#don’t know how to add page breaks or whatever tho

[sincerelyrki]

My Carrd tutorial 💗

my carrd

so first i started with a blank canvas, but i deleted the center text

for the background colour/ style i didn’t want it to be white so i just chose a very light pink that was a bit off the white ?? ( #F9E9EC ). i pasted the colour i was going to use for the hearts and then chose a colour on there.

then for the background i chose animated hexagons (under the patterns option) and went to redketchup (a colour picker) and chose the same colour as wonyoungs lips ( #9B384A )

then i edited my page. my style is box, position is center, width is 22, padding for both vertical and horizontal is 0.5, corner rounding is 0.5. My border is the same colour as the hearts, ( #9B384A ), and the width is 2. i added a drop shadow, the colour is the same as the hearts and border. the angle is 0° and the blur is 2°. Then i went to mobile and changed it to manual, with my size being 11.

then i chose container and changed the type to columns, both 50%. next i went under appearances and changed the padding. vertical and horizontal both go to 0.5. I changed corner rounding (under margins) to 0.5 as well. Next i changed my border colour to another colour i chose off the same wonyoung photo ( #7C5655 ), with the width of 2.

Your container will show up stacked in the mobile view if you do not edit the mobile layout. you’ll want to change the mobile to manual, then the layout to default. if you don’t change it to default it could stack it (below is before and after, the after having the default layout rather than the stack). if you’re working on computer it will look like the default layout until you change to the mobile option (the phone option at the top right corner) but for iphone users or whatever it will automatically stack it.

i then chose to add an image (go to the + and choose image) when you go to add a photo it will ask you about cropping but i didn’t crop it, if you press the top square-like option twice it will get rid of the little cropping thing. you can drag the photo and drop it on whichever side you desire. (for my first photo i chose the left side, and for the next i chose right side)

Now you add a text (under the +) you can choose whichever font you want (i chose abril fatface) and the font colour will be the same one we’ve been using (for the hearts, etc). you can make the size of your text however you’d like, for my name i used the side 0.875, for the drop shadow i chose a colour that was similar to the font colour, but way lighter. (i chose #E3274C) i made the angle 245° with the blur at 1.25. i also changed the mobile to manual (do this for like everything).

i used a new text box for every different thing (likes, dislikes, my name, everything) also make sure it’s all centered (under alignment)

For the next text (the highlighted bit) i made it the same font and colour, just changed the size to 0.6, line spacing to 1.5c and gave it the same drop shadow as the text before. to highlight it there is a formation that you follow. this is what it should look like.

For my age and pronouns i used the same font size (0.875) that i used for my name, and same colour (same colour for all the text). for my likes i used the same size as my highlighted text (i luv nicknames) which is 0.5. i decided to underline the song title just to make it stand out a bit more. i followed the same formatting as listed above. see below for reference.

I copied and pasted my likes and just changed the text, same for the dni.

for the quote i wrote i did the same process of changing my container to columns. only difference was that i made my left column 75°. i copied and pasted my name’s text (if you don’t know how to copy and paste, it’s the button beside the trash can). i dragged the text down into my new container and onto the left, larger, column. for the heart you go to the + and choose Icons, it will show you the email option but all you have to do is tally down the options and change the type. i chose the heart (which is 8 down from the email) you can choose whichever icon you want, add as much as you want. i just chose the heart because it looked cute and matched my background. i dragged the icon into the smaller column, the 25% one.

for the next container i didn’t ch abe anything about the container type, i left it a default rather than choosing to do columns again. i inserted my photo, cropping it to the height i wanted. i then added a link, where is also found under the +. when you tally down the links you can change the label and url. then you want to go to appearance. I made the style underlined, the colour and the font the same. the text size is 0.75. and the drop shadow is #E3274C, angle 245°

The next part i only did for every other container (the quote, the tumblr acc container), which is a drop shadow. the drop shadow is the same colour as the one we used for the text dropshadows. ( #E3274C ). the angle is 90°, distance 1.75, blur 2.

for the title (“my tumblr accounts”) I just copied and pasted my pronoun text and dragged it down above my final container .

And finally i went to the + and added a divider, dragging it up to go under my instagram link and above my tumblr title.

OKAY I THINK THATS IT??? pls tell me if you have any questions or whatever. this is a pretty basic carrd, but i think it’s pretty. it seems a bit difficult but i promise its not, for the top and bottom column (my tumblr acc one and intro) you can just copy and paste it, and whatever.

@baevsxii i hope this answers it♡

[deactivated-deadpool-anon]

Tw: heavy vent, topic of suicide, and self harm

I’ve had this in drafts for a few weeks just added on as I felt sad so if it seems jumbled that’s why

Idk how to add the little page break thing on tumblr mobile so if you’re sitting here scrolling for a minute I’m genuinely so sorry

So every winter my depression gets extremely bad as it does with most people so it’s no shocker that I’ve been in a slump for the past month but it’s bad this time the last time I could remember it being this bad was when I went through with my first attempt in 7th grade and I’m ngl I’ve heavily been thinking about trying to make another attempt on my life I don’t only for my younger siblings I can’t handle the thought of them walking in on my dead body which they inevitably would (my brother wakes me up every morning) and everytime I think about this scenario I start spiraling it’s hell but yeah not gonna kill my self ig. I’ve been using quite literally all my strength not to relapse and start self harming again I’ve been clean since November and I’m really trying to break the addiction but it’s so hard and I don’t really have any other coping mechanisms. In all honesty tho the real reason I don’t go back to cutting is bc I threw away what I was using to do it and I have like actual knives but I’m scared of going to deep (kinda ironic ig). So I’ve had a group of friends since last February (feb 2022) there’s been 3 main people with others along as well I don’t feel like going into our whole history but a cliff note version of it is we started hanging out in feb in may I started dating person B in July I broke it off with B and ever since it’s basically been me vs B (the others occasionally joining me) well I started talking to B in November after not talking to him for 2 months and shit was great it was basically how it was back before we got together he even got me a shiny Pokémon for my birthday (which means a lot to me) but practically since it’s been new year’s he went back to how he was in September (when we first stopped talking) just an asshole we obviously were annoyed by each other then we got in a “fight” so we stopped talking again anyways so that was Sunday I didn’t have school Monday but Tuesday and Wednesday he’s still been hanging around my group which is fine they’re his friends to but like I hate it bc they’re not talking to me pretty much at all throughout the day bc the only time I see person A and C person B is also there… it feels like he’s stealing my friends from me even my moirail (person A) is hanging out with him more and they don’t even like him so I feel left out completely I feel invisible and alone but not alone bc when I was alone it didn’t even feel this painful I just sit there in silence tears in my eyes but not letting them fall I stare off into space with one AirPod in trying to now ignore the outside world making little stories in my head with my f/os but in reality I just want my moirail to hug me and let me know everything’s alright and that I’m not losing anyone and that if I were to kill myself they would care they would be upset by it stuff like that but no nothing. I haven’t been able to do any school work bc of my mental state even if I take my meds (adhd meds I should probably clarify) which is weird bc my meds always keep me on track but not now ig fuck for example I have like 6 algebra assignments that become 0s tomorrow and I frankly just don’t care. When people I know tell me they don’t have tiktok i always laugh at them like c’mon it’s not that bad but it is it is that bad for example I posted a few videos of my face today and I got tons of comments fat shamming(which really helps my eating disorder but whatever),being called poor, and genuine trans + homophobia I have some pretty tough skin when it comes to these comments usually but if you haven’t noticed I’m a single problem away from violently killing myself so these comments got so bad that I had to private my account which in my 8-9 years on the internet i have never had to do. I think that’s it idk.

Oh there is actually one more thing I want to mention this happened months ago but has been pissing me off since so to put this lightly I had a dream where Murdoc from Gorillaz sexually assaulted me (yes Ik he would never do this but I can’t control my dreams) I have trauma when it comes to stuff like this bc I was sa’d as a child and I’m on the asexual spectrum so I don’t like to think of my f/os in a sexual light anyways I go to vent in my discord server that has all my friends in it looking for support (even though they were all asleep venting then makes me feel better) so I feel really dirty and sad bc again this was a sa related dream I post a kinda detailed version of the dream in #venting channel then Person B starts typing and replies with “nice fanfic” and I wish I fucking screenshoted that bc wtf dude it’s bc he’s never had/really heard about a sa situation i understand that but still why?

Vent Over

if you read this thanks ig it’s just nice to know an another living body knows my problems so I’m not necessarily suffering alone <3

TL;DR I really need a hug ffs

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Eventuality (C.D.)

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: The reader pretends she doesn’t care that her best friend has moved on

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: this gif of cedric tho.... i fell in love

You watched as he broke the surface, gasping for air and pulling her along with him. The crowd roared as he was pulled from the water with his hand wrapped around her waist. He pumped his fist in the air in victory, him having been the first out of the lake. She threw her arms around his neck in celebration and you pretended that it didn’t sting. You looked away with your arms crossed, not being able to bear the sight before you. 

Cedric and you had a complicated past. You had been friends, though that was hardly the proper word to describe it, at some point. But as of late you were strangers. The friendship had always been dysfunctional as you were in a different house, but it had always been special. Slytherin and Hufflepuff friendships were always unique but steadfast as both houses highly regarded loyalty. The difference between your houses had always been apparent in your relationship with Cedric but it was valued. You taught a young and shy Cedric how to stand up for himself and he reminded you that you were not like your parents and that you could choose your own path. 

There had always been an underlying tension in the friendship. Lingering stares and hugs that lasted too long indicated that there may have been something more to it. You had always assumed that you and Cedric would be an eventuality, that someday you would finally make your way to each other. But the beginning of sixth year had proven you wrong. 

Cedric had boarded the train with a lovestruck look in his eyes and began telling you stories of Cho Chang. The whole ride to Hogwarts he described her long, shiny hair and her beautiful amber-brown eyes. He spoke of her intelligence and wit, describing her grace and humor. You sat through it all in pain, a fake smile plastered across your face. You tried not to cry when he told you that he planned on asking her to Hogsmeade and you tried to act happy for him. 

Your friendship had become strained in the following weeks. He spent every waking moment with Cho and you pulled away, not being able to bear watching the boy you loved chase someone else. The final nail in the coffin was when he told you that he was entering his name in the goblet. 

“You can’t honestly be serious,” you had practically shrieked. Cedric furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Do you not think I can handle it?” he asked, anger seeping into his voice.

“No, it’s not that! It’s dangerous you idiot, you could die,” you responded. Cedric scoffed.

“It’s not that serious, I probably won’t get chosen anyway,” he said, crossing his arms angrily. 

“It is that serious you git! Did you not hear Dumbledore,” you replied, “And of course you’ll get picked. It couldn’t be anyone else.” Cedric had rolled his eyes.

“I think you’re overreacting,” he said, his voice venomous. You huffed and stepped forward, pressing your finger to his chest.

“You do not get to tell me when I am overreacting,” you growled, “And I am just trying to tell you that-”

“You don’t get to try and tell me what to do! Not after avoiding me!” he had shouted back. You looked away and bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back your anger. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you, you’ve just been busy running around with your little girlfriend,” you spat out. It was a lie, you had been avoiding him. But you wanted to say something that might urge him to apologize. You had no such luck. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Cedric said, narrowing his eyes. You shook your head and looked away. 

“Whatever Cedric,” you said. His eyes widened and he stepped back. You hadn’t called him by his full name in years. You had a vast array of silly nicknames you used instead, and it was a low blow to use his given name. 

“Whatever,” he said before shaking his head and storming off. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken since then, only glaring at each other in the halls. You truly and deeply missed him but he seemed fine without you. He was doing well in the challenges, he and Cho seemed to be attached at the hip, and you had watched him smile and laugh at the Yule Ball. It was obvious that he had never needed you in the way that you needed him.

Once all the other champions came out of the water everyone began to vacate the stands. A crowd formed around Cedric and he was smiling wide, basking in the attention. You rolled your eyes, remembering all the days you had teased him for being an attention hog. Cedric thrived on validation and you assumed that his ego was receiving a hefty boost. Cedric turned and his eyes snapped to yours for a quick moment. He seemed to have frozen in place, his mouth hanging open slightly. You couldn’t bear to look away, your heart still yearning for him. Someone grabbed his shoulder to congratulate him and he tore his eyes away. You sighed and began your trek back to the castle. 

You were in the library later that day, avoiding the sounds of celebration coming from the Great Hall. All anyone could talk about was Cedric and you didn’t think that your heart could handle it. You were reading when you sensed someone watching you. You turned around quickly to see Cedric idling by a bookshelf, seemingly debating whether or not to talk to you. When he noticed that you saw him he sent you a brilliant smile that made your heart clench. But you knew him too well and you could sense his lack of confidence. 

“Hey,” he said softly. You gave him a curt nod before turning back to your book. “I saw you by the lake today,” he said, looking down at his hands. 

“Yes, Fleur and I have developed a nice friendship and I went to support her,” you explained stiffly. It was true, you and Fleur were close, but you truly went to make sure that Cedric would be okay. But you’d never let him know that. He blinked in surprise. 

“Oh. I just thought- never mind,” he said, looking away. You snapped your book closed and looked up. 

“Thought what?” you asked sharply. Cedric rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I thought that you might have come to watch me,” he admitted sheepishly. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“You thought that I was watching you? Don’t flatter yourself…” You said. Once again it was a lie, but you desperately felt as if you needed to shield yourself from the boy in front of you. Cedric frowned and looked away. He stood up and rapped his knuckles against the table.

“Well um… Sorry to bother you then,” he said. He turned to walk away. He lingered for a moment by the shelves. “What happened to us?” he asked softly, not turning back to look at you. You sniffled and looked down, fiddling with the pages of your book. 

“I thought that we were something that we weren’t,” you said softly. Cedric slowly rotated so that he was facing you. 

“What?” he breathed out softly. You sighed and avoided his gaze. 

“I thought… I thought that we might have been more than friends. But I was clearly wrong and I let it ruin everything,” you answered. Cedric’s face seemed to break and he ran a hasty hand over it. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly after a moment of silence, “I thought my feelings were one-sided so I tried to move on.” His confession hung in the air as you tried to process what he said. “I thought that you could never love me back so I chased Cho instead,” he said. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“But you like her. You pulled her out of the lake today,” you pointed out, unable to believe him. He sighed. 

“It’s not like that. She and I are friends. And after you stopped talking to me, she’s pretty much the only real friend I have. She’s important to me, but not in that way,” he explained. 

“But she’s so perfect! How could you not like her?” you exclaimed, “She’s smart and she’s so gorgeous,” you said. Cedric took a step closer. 

“But she’s not you. And you’re all those things too. You are so unbelievably smart, smarter than I’ll ever be and you’re beautiful you know that?” You just gaped at him. “Please believe me,” he pleaded, walking to stand directly next to your chair. You pushed out your seat suddenly and stood chest to chest with the boy. 

“I want to believe you,” you said softly, “But how can I know for sure?” Cedric rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheek. 

“Let me prove it,” he murmured. You nodded softly, staring into his beautiful gray eyes. Slowly, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours. He tilted back, a question in his eyes asking if it was okay. You grabbed his collar and pulled him back down towards you, years of pent up longing finally surfacing. The kiss was sweet and tender, his love shining through. You wished that you hadn’t spent months apart and that you had been able to tell him how you felt earlier. But it turned out that you had been right all along; no matter what separate roads you and Cedric traveled down, you’d always find each other eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

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add yourself here

[dodo-begone]

ALRIGHTY! LOYAL HERE COMING IN WITH THE CIRCUS HAHAHA

Btw, I’m like 90% sure that I fell asleep while writing so it just stops. Like, there’s no ending/summary/whatever word I’m looking for but can’t think of at the moment and my bird is currently chewing on my phone case oh my god can she please stop—

__________________

I believe the concept of yanderes ft. a isekai-d reader has been mentioned by Shepard and her anons, tho it’s been mainly for Origins SMP. So, I come to you with ideas for the Dream SMP because that’s all I’m familiar with HAHAH—

Also, I apologize in advance because this thing is borderline an essay with how long it is. I’m so sorry—

For example *cue dramatic lighting and a cheesy flashback monologue thingie* oh my god I think I’m losing it, I’m so tired

Y/n and their younger sibling, Frisk, had just finished up another press conference regarding Monsters being back on the surface. All seems to be going well until the ground beneath their feet vanishes and they fall unconscious a few moments later. When they awaken, they notice they’re surrounded by humans—wait they aren’t all humans, what the fuck, since when are there hybrids? They knew everyone from the underground—by name, no less—and had never heard of any currently living hybrids. Only of ones from before the war. Besides, Monsters have been on the surface for a month at most, so there is no way for... oh boy, their head is spinning.

After some very...tense...introductions (“Hi, I never saw you guys Underground, nor have I heard of you, no offense. So, uh, which monsters are you guys related to?” “OI, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT TUBBO IS NOT A MONSTER!”) they come to the realization that y/n is most definitely not from this world, or even this universe. Y/n’s adamant refusal to fight the “real monsters” that roam this land (“I did not spend countless timelines weeks putting my life on the line to befriend every monster, break the barrier that trapped them Underground, and defend them against my own god forsaken race just to turn my back on them.”) was a pretty big sign, after all. That, along with species of monsters that the SMP members have never heard of and how y/n talked about Souls as if they were a tangible thing.

It’s a rocky start before any sort of friendship is formed: y/n, wanting to be cautious, (and also not having Sans there to CHECK for them) decides to ask everyone what their LV is. It’s risky, and they had no way to prove if anyone is (or isn’t) telling the truth, but it was worth a shot. “Our levels?” A small goat hybrid asked, his head slightly tilting to the side. Everyone assumes that y/n is talking about enchantment levels. “I’m at 26! Ranboo, you’re at 30, right?” “I’m at 37 now, actually.” “Well, I’M at 58. Clearly I’m the superior one here. A real big man, a very manly man, aren’t I?” And a few others pipe in. Color drains from y/n’s face and they take a few steps back, hands shaking as their eyes dart between each person in the room and the exit. ‘How many lives have they each taken to make their LOVE so high? Why do they seem so proud of it?’ Yeah... that was an interesting experience.

- even though they have been reassured multiple times that the monsters of this world are nothing like the ones from their home, y/n still refuses to kill a single one, as I had mentioned earlier. They also refuse to kill animals. It takes a couple tries at explaining LV or LOVE—Level Of ViolencE—along with EXP—EXecution Points—but eventually everyone is on the same page

- Y/n is hesitant to bring out their SOUL when asked. First off, though they’re now friends with those from the Underground, they can’t help but be reminded of every spear, knife, bone, petal, gaster blaster, and fireball that has been aimed at them with the intent to kill whenever their SOUL was drawn into an encounter back then. Second of all, showing your SOUL is something you do with those you trust with your life—after all, you’re literally putting your lifeline out on display when you do so. There are so many different ways that the SMP members can see it

- Perhaps a monster appears

- Eggpire or Dream attack

- Someone forces y/n into an encounter because everyone is too curious to just let this opportunity slip by

- When y/n discovers that the people of this land have more than one life, they’re confused. There is no way that all of these people have SOULS of Determination, and there’d definitely be some issues if people kept rewinding time to their last save point. Besides, only one Determination SOUL—the strongest one—should be able to respawn. Then again, they only know what Frisk had explained to them. They were never able to see the save stars that Frisk would interact with in the different sections of the Underground. So they only have so much to go off of.

- Battle for them is completely different. Despite being in a different world, the mechanics from their world still apply. They can FIGHT, ACT, use an ITEM or show MERCY.

- They use Frisk’s tactic and flirt their way out of a fight or two. They never understood why Frisk did it until now... ‘I mean, I...wow. That was actually effective.’ They’re impressed.

- Oh no, maybe that wasn’t the best idea...they might have some yanderes after them bc of it...

- They probably have accidentally called Philza ‘Asgore’ and Tubbo ‘Asriel’ because both hybrids remind her of the two males from her world. Similar personalities AND Tubbo is a goat hybrid. The poor child is going to be so confused

- If Tubbo’s a yandere oh boy it’s going to be so easy for him. Y/n will probably be constantly at his side and telling him stories about the first fallen child and how they were adopted by the royal family, who are goat monsters! And just explaining the history of the underground and how important the goat family is. Talks about Asriel a lot as well. Probably makes him butterscotch cinnamon pie and tries to recreate golden flower tea to share with him as well. Or, they do that and he’s not yandere and it’s just wholesome.

- If we follow the headcanons that some fans have made, perhaps Frisk (and/or y/n) gave up half of their SOUL to give to either (or both) Chara or Asriel so they’d have another chance at life

- Not only does y/n refuse to kill, which leaves them vulnerable, they also only have half a SOUL, which means they’re incredibly weak. Someone needs to protect them, someone needs to keep them safe, someone needs to—

- Y/n is incredibly agile thanks to all the battles they’ve faced Underground. With their SOUL always out in the open during an encounter and the fact that they refuse to harm anyone, it’s required. I’m imagining them moving like a dancer, using jumps and spins to help them avoid any weapons swung at them.

- This is gonna be annoying for any yandere that wishes to lock y/n up. Even if they won’t physically hurt someone, they WILL put up a fight and make it as hard as they possibly can to be dragged into isolation or imprisonment

- When it comes to who goes yandere, I believe what color of SOUL y/n has (their personality, in summary) would play a big role. Here’s a few of my ideas, feel free to move people around or add to it, I’m really tired and can’t think of many characters LOL

- Red (determination): Wilbur, Technoblade

- Orange (bravery): Technoblade, Dream, Tommy

- Yellow (justice): Sam, Technoblade

- Green (kindness): the kids of the server, Fundy, and Ghostbur

- Cyan (patience): Ranboo, Ghostbur, Karl

- Dark blue (integrity): Tubbo, Philza, Sam

- Purple (perseverance): Dream—this man would love to see how long it would take for your perseverance to run out. I wouldn’t be surprised if your perseverance is the only reason he’s interested.

__________________

From what I saw of the end of what I wrote, it is DEFINITELY cut short. At least I mentioned every SOUL type lolol.

Also, I found a whole other note that’s a continuation of this concept but for y/n being from another game what the hell was I doing—

Expect that to come in another ask once I eat dinner

Sorry i took so long to answer!! I kept getting distracted!

That stuff is so pog man!!!! Puffy might be called “Toriel” once in a while because mom energy and she sheep,,, close to goat!

Gosh all the flirting will bring in so many yanderes or make ppl like “yo wtf??” And there’s a very small amount that are inbetween.

OKAY BUT WITH THE MONSTER STUFF ON THE DSMP- they’d keep the monsters in their house. They’d give them food and everything. Some def become very friendly and will defend. Haha giant spider go prrrrrr

I’d write more but there is so much amazing stuff I don’t think I could add to some of them anyways!!! Plus my mind is just racing other places rn haha

[kuiinncedes]

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

--

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

--

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

--

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

--

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

--

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom���s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

--

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

--

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

--

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

--

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

[sukirichi]

heeeey do you have any advice for newbie writers?

writing advice for newbies!

disclaimer: the advice i’m going to give (funnily enough) is not something that i always personally do. i’ve been writing both fiction and non-fiction for years, i only came to tumblr because i wasn’t satisfied with how i kept pressuring myself to write “high literature” after gaining awards and recognition for my stories. my fanfiction here in this blog...it’s unrefined, definitely not what i used to write before because i’m a lot less serious about it and i’m just writing freely. but the advice i’ll list below is personally some stuff that has helped me a lot in my entire writing journey! Some are technical, some are personal! down below will also list some tumblr related writing advice! 

1. Keep writing! No one is born a great writer. Before I actually started publishing/posting my stories, I remember I spent at least five years writing the most random crap just so I can get a feel for what my style is. Plus, the more you do things repeatedly, it’ll come eventually like second nature to you and you’ll find the words are flowing. Keep writing, keep writing, keep writing! Even if you’re not satisfied with your first work, that’s okay, just keep going on!

2. Be mindful of what tense you’re using. NOW I KNOW I DON’T REALLY FOLLOW THIS BUT THAT’S BECAUSE I DON’T EDIT MY FICS LMAO, but you could totally do this! So in writing, we have “voices.” The narration will always use tenses of whether the entire story will be past tense or present tense and it’s important this remains consistent in your entire story. This one is TECHNICAL, this just help improves the flow and formality of your story. As for me though, I don’t really care about the tenses anymore because like I said, I just write freely with no regards for “creative writing techniques.” an example of past tense is: Suki jumped to Naoya’s arms. “My love!” she called, wrapping her arms around him. (RIP EXAMPLES) and present tense is: Suki jumps to Naoya’s arms. “My love!” she calls and wraps her arms around him. (this could be real flexible tho, this is just an example ehehehe)

3. Be mindful of dialogue tags! There’s a huge difference between putting periods and commas after dialogues. Like for example, “Suki loves Naoya,” she declared. If it’s followed by an action, the comma is best. Or example, Suki said, “I really love Naoya.” If the statement can stand alone, then it can be “Suki really loves Naoya./I really love Naoya.” There’s better explanations here! And one more thing, you should put the commas/periods inside the quotation marks. There’s more variations/explanations here but generally, this way of writing,,,example: “Suki really loves Naoya”, LIKE??? if it’s a dialogue, put the commas/periods inside the quotation marks.

4. PARAGRAPH BREAKS. I cannot stress this enough. There should be a variety in the sizes of your paragraphs. Long paragraphs should be followed by smaller ones, varied with medium paragraphs and then so and so forth. There’s no formal sequence that it should be LONG – MEDIUM – SHORT – MEDIUM – LONG, writing is flexible, just make sure you’re varying the lengths because reading long, chunky paragraphs with no end is equally annoying as reading paragraphs that are always 1-2 sentences and then a paragraph break.

5. Outline, outline, outline! Whether it’s long fics or short ones (excluding drabbles, I don’t think you need them that much) outlines will help you have a more solid feel of your story, and you can easily track your story flow when you have your ideas plotted out. or me, my outlines is in the form of Dialogue Outline, where I write out all the dialogues first so my pages will be just conversations then I’ll add the monologues/actions later. That’s personally what works for me, you can discover your own writing style <3

6. Research! Now this is pretty funny for me to say this because I don’t really do research, at least not the “how to effectively write this type of role” or whatever. Of course it’s better if you try to learn more about the concept you’re going to write about (like if you wanna do a vampire AU then read Twiligh – JK THAT’S A BAD REFERENCE, SORRY NOT SORRY, love the memes tho!) or you can do my own way of researching, which is reading other people’s fanfics! Not only do you get a vibe of how this character is like, but you also get to support other content creators!

7. You don’t need verbs all the time. Sometimes I see stories wherein ALL dialogues have “said” “screamed” “explained” on EACH line and here’s the key: as long as the readers can understand which character is speaking, you don’t need dialogue cues all the time. 

8. PUT THE KEEP READING TAB. I cannot stress this enough, but please put the keep reading tab. Drabbles are fine without them, but if it exceeds maybe 400 words then you’re going to need that. Sure, it’s easy to scroll past a long text, but some fics are super long and without the keep reading tab that it can be quite a hassle to whoever sees it.

9. Have your own writing safe space. Now this could be more personal than technical, but I absolutely cannot write or focus when I’m in a public space or when I’m being bothered. So if you want to write, SHUT THE WORLD OUT and dive deep into your imaginations, let the noise of your fantasies be louder than distractions.

10. Take your time! I guess that would be my best advice. You don’t have to rush anything at all, and one more thing, DO NOT OVERTHINK! Maybe this is just me but I honestly don’t really try to dive too deep in the technicalities anymore :// I’ve been in Creative Writing class for years and it stressed me out that my writing teachers always told me “not to use big words because no one will understand that” or “don’t try to paint the picture too clearly because not everyone has that big of an imagination” and I was like ISN’T THAT THE POINT THOUGH, TO MAKE PEOPLE IMAGINE THINGS? but yeah anyways, maybe this is just me again, but I find that I write better when I’m not overthinking too much on how to write a “perfect” story. I don’t always have the prettiest words to use. I don’t always have the most intricate plot. I don’t always have the most poetic content that is “inspiring” or “moving.” Sometimes I write stupid shit that has no plot at all, and that’s okay. Just write whatever you want tbh, I’d say my biggest advice is to not worry too much about having the “perfect” story. It’s still great to do research and want to improve your writing skills, but hmm...I guess I’d say the most important thing is that you enjoy what you do!

11. “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” – Ernest Hemingway. This is one of my favourite quotes because it’s true, writing is both complicated and simple, but as for me, writing is something that I don’t want to stress too much about. There isn’t really an actual right or wrong, there isn’t a law, just some techniques that could help you improve, but at the end of the day, it should be about the steady state of progress or the “creation flow” that matters the most. Just write, that’s it. You’ll get there eventually and you’ll start creating magic before you know it. Just let the words flow and build, worry about quality later when you edit it. Or you know, if you’re lazy like me, just post it when you’re done LMAO. really though the BEST advice is to enjoy the process and not stress too much about it!

here is a previous ask i answered that may be of help too! 

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Yeah, forget side content, just gonna steam on ahead with the Sports Festival and onwards. I might not actually stop and start trying to do overarching plot stuff until ~chapter 100 (more specifically, post ch 97, the last chapter of the Kamino Arc) because then there will be enough material to actually like. Do stuff. Might also have something smaller after the Sports Festival since that’s ~chapter 50. Shrugs.

Anyways, onwards. Don’t you miss the days when the main trio of the series was Izuku, Tenya, and Ochako? Man, don’t I. :(

[No. 22 - That’s the Idea, Ochako!]

Character sheet! I am honestly laughing super hard at everything because just. ‘Very Ochako.’ Thank you, Horikoshi. A few things about the sheet:

1) god I love that her fingerpads are called soft. Like. Actual cat paw pad fingers going on here. just imagine if you like pressed one of them like you do with cat paw pads and like, she had cat claws that would extend. cute but also menacing.

2) strong legs. leg day squad. her, izuku, and iida all doing leg day workouts together tho... katsuki wishes he had the leg strength of those three y'all

3) That quirk description… that’s not quite how centrifugal forces work, but I mean. Superhero comic physics. At least he made an attempt at explaining her quirk. 

Anyways, onto the actual chapter.

We open up in a staff meeting in a conference room at UA, with Tsukauchi presenting the results of the police investigations. He states that the one called Shigaraki has a quirk that allows him to disintegrate anything he touches. They (the police) have been through the list of men in their twenties and thirties in the quirk registry with no luck - and nothing turned up on the ‘warp gate’ user Kurogiri either. With neither registered, both using aliases, and no quirk records, they’re pretty much confirmed to be members of the underworld.

God sorry, I’m just distracted with the sheer size difference between Toshinori and Nedzu here.

What the fuck. Why did you put the largest person in the room next to the smallest?

Whatever. Snipe surmises that they know next to nothing, but they need to learn fast, or the leader of the villains, Shigaraki, will heal up and be back again. Toshinori is thoughtful as he mulls over the use of ‘leader’, which Nedzu catches quickly and inquires into. Probably still heavily banking on Toshinori’s instincts here since he was technically right about his bad feeling about the USJ just two days before.

I mean, how it has to sting Nedzu that all his state of the art systems meant to keep out intruders and alert UA to situations on campus failed at the critical moment, while Toshinori’s instincts on something being wrong had been absolutely on point and, if Nedzu had let him go, might have solved the situation that much sooner.

(I mean, there’s arguments for what could have happened if All Might did arrive early, so. Shrugs.)

And so we get into the segment I like to fondly consider a prime example of the fact that yes, Toshinori does in fact have a 6/6 intelligence score for a reason. 

He brings up how nothing about the situation feels normal. It was an especially daring attack - and not just in the meticulous planning! Shigaraki had started going on about some ridiculous ideology… and though he didn’t say anything about his own quirk, he couldn’t keep himself from bragging about the nomu’s quirk. And when things didn’t go his way? He threw a tantrum. Toshinori then admits with grit teeth and clenched fist that the business about quirks was meant to provoke him, and that it did hurt.

Nedzu says that even so, it’s foolish for villains to reveal quirks in a battle against heroes and so waste the element of surprise. 

Toshinori surmises his previous observations about Shigaraki - spouting a plausible yet deluded ideology, bragging about the toy he brought along, simple-mindedly assuming all would go his way. If they thought about how the attack was carried out, it seems clear that Shigaraki couldn’t hide his childish nature, the sense that he does what he wants, and then flat-out calls him a man-child.

Vlad King sums up Toshinori’s words as Shigaraki being a kid with too much power. Midnight adds on how Shigaraki might never have received general quirk counseling in elementary school; Vlad wonders whether that even matters. 

Tsukauchi steps back into the conversation to give the rest of the arrest results - a total of 72 villains were apprehended at the USJ. He states that all of them were just back-alley thugs, but the question is why so many of them would agree to follow this ‘man-child.’ He points out that modern society is saturated with heroes, so small-time villains like them, who always get kicked around, might have been drawn in by that sort of pure, unaffected evil. 

Toshinori having a flashback here, though his expression… I wonder if he’s having doubts already. And honestly, that flashback bit has me wonder just how common ‘uncontrollable’ quirks really are… and what COUNTS as ‘uncontrollable’ in their society. 

To avoid a longer derail, Tsukauchi finishes up by saying that thanks to the heroes, the police can focus on their investigation. They’ll expand their search and devote efforts to apprehending the perpetrators. 

Nedzu finishes out the scene by musing over the use of ‘man-child,’ stating that in one way, Shigaraki is a lot like their students. He has potential to grow, if only he had a proper mentor to follow. It’s difficult to think about these things.

And so we shift scenes back over to 1a. I doubt this sports festival talk is happening at the same time as the staff meeting, if only because Aizawa should have been at said staff meeting. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to be there at all and the homerooms were meant to handle themselves that morning? Wait, hold on-

That clock reads 8:25. This is happening during the homeroom period, which means that the other classes are having independant homeroom. Which also means it’s no surprise that Aizawa isn’t at that meeting, because he’s busy hobbling to his class to announce the sports festival. He probably had to be caught up on the meeting stuff later. 

Anyways. The class is surprised over the announcement of the sports festival, someone calling it ‘totally ordinary’ while another (I think Mineta) questions whether Aizawa’s sure about this, since they just had that villain attack. Aizawa states that it’s necessary to demonstrate that UA’s crisis management protocols are sound - or that’s the thinking, anyways. There will be five times the police presence of previous years. Oh, and also the sports festival is the greatest opportunity the class will get. It’s not something that can be cancelled over a few villains. 

Mineta (again?) asks if he’s sure about that, muttering about how it’s ‘just a stupid sports festival.’ Izuku seems completely horrified at the idea that Mineta might have never seen UA’s sports festival, which Mineta hastens to correct - he has, that’s not what he meant. 

I’m sorry just. That face. I can’t with this kid. Jdsjlgkd.

Also, we finally get to the page that had me double-take when I got to it because, well.

So yeah, apparently the BNHA timeline didn’t have certain current events happened that would force the cancellation of the Olympics. (I mean, obviously Hori had no way of knowing the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo would be cancelled, but it’s still like a huge sign of how long this series has been running that this is here.)

Moving on, basically the above surmises for readers that the sports festival is as big an event to them as the Olympics are to us. So basically, super hype. Momo notes that all the nation’s top heroes will be watching and scouting. Kaminari adds on how the heroes will be looking to hire the hero students as sidekicks after they graduate. Jirou makes a cutting retort how a lot of those sidekicks never manage to go solo, stuck as sidekicks forever, before telling Kaminari that’ll be him. 

Shot through the heart.

(Also a total aside I just realized: current manga events likely mean there will be no sports festival for 2a. I mean, I would say the events happening there are large enough in scope that UA just doesn’t have the inclination or interest in broadcasting vital information the villains could use. And like, no scouting, no internships, no purpose for it.

And I mean, even if they did, would any of the kids even be able to focus on doing their best? God knows how stressed and nervous they all must be with how society is basically collapsing outside the school.)

Aizawa tells the class that they’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if they’re picked up by a big-name hero. However, their time is limited. They need to show the pros what they’re made of to make futures for themselves. This happens once a year, so they have three shots. If they want to be heroes, this is an event they can’t miss.

The whole class seems to be taking this seriously, but Izuku…

Well, he doesn’t seem as enthused as expected.

Anyways, I’ll cut it there and leave the rest for next time, since there’s a time break in here anyways. It’s not quite halfway, but eh.

[tyonfs]

hey i really love ur writing !! do u have any tips for overcoming writers block and writing full length fics ?

hihi anon !! 🤲 PLS tysm and ofc i’d be happy to give you some tips

TIPS FOR WRITERS BLOCK —

there isn’t a clear-cut answer for this one. my advice is to write, write, write. even if it’s nonsense and has nothing to do with your book, just getting all the fuzz out will clear your head and you’ll get back in the groove of writing!

i fall into slumps myself every so often. most of the time it’s burnout and not having the energy to write, so personally i indulge in other hobbies for a little until i’m feeling up for writing again LOL because i want to keep time for other things

when it comes to inspiration on plot or if you’ve hit a roadblock on what to write next, then i would go back to my point and just say writing whatever’s on your mind is very effective. another thing that helps me is just taking a break and indulging in other activities. plot points come to mind naturally when i’m doing other things like going on a hike, playing a game, or watching a show!

you can also prevent or help it by planning out your fic! here’s a google sheets template that you can use to get your thoughts out!

there’s also this website that can help with writers block! it’s sort of a mini game where you choose a character, a “monster” to fight, and set a word limit of how much you want to write. so you click the fight button and you have to keep typing so the monster’s hp goes down :’)

but i hope any of those are of help!

TIPS FOR WRITING FULL-LENGTH FICS —

long fics can be a hassle but so, so rewarding. i think it really depends how long you’re going for! i definitely recommend more initial planning when plotting out a longer fic. for my shorter fics (1k-10k words) i just go in blind LOL, like sort of flashlight method it, but i make sure i know how i want it to start and a vague idea of the ending

i would go back to the google sheet i linked before :)) i am not that organized so i just make a google doc and list down everything i want to happen, note characters, and any information to add to my world building! for example, i’m writing a txt space au rn and since it’s a bigger project, i’m writing it on the side and investing more time into it. so i have a plotting doc where i write down all the alien species, their traits, spaceships, and other planets/galaxies.

it can be v tiring tho so it’s good to plot beforehand so you can go back for inspiration when you’re feeling burned out! i recommend using notion too — i make pages for my longer fics there so i can see all my ideas in one place :’)

a mistake i notice a LOT of writers making tho is focusing too much on the word count itself. i would remove the “view word count” option if you’re writing on a google doc and just write whatever comes naturally to you! sometimes people get too caught up over getting a higher word count that their story then just feels dragged on and the flow is awkward

it’s also important to be interested in what you’re writing. dont force yourself to adjust to tropes that you don’t enjoy writing !! write smthn that you are passionate ab :)) my first long oneshot was around 10k words and i wrote it in two nights bc i was just super hyped to write it 🏃‍♂️

and honestly take a break if it gets too much. grinding on a huge story can be mentally taxing and the exhaustion will show in your writing. when i was around 20k words for my yuta fic, i realized i’d need like 5k more for a satisfying ending (even tho it ended up being 27k words), and the thought just made me so tired that i postponed the date when i expected i’d finish it

i think it also helps to be able to talk to your friends and bounce off ideas about your fic! i talk to my friend about my fic ideas and she does the same with me, and it rlly helps me clear my head with my own story 💓 some people invest in beta readers and i do not have a beta reader but it could definitely be helpful to get second opinions on your fic

lmk if you have any more questions and i hope that helped anon !! ♡

[ric0cheted]

okay folks, i'm stoned & sappy as balls right now and i'm stuck on this dumb geraskefer fairytale thing

--jaskier gets cursed. obviously jaskier gets cursed. it is an established, incontrovertible fact that jaskier's always the one who gets cursed. who's it this time?? cuckolded spouse?? creative rival?? someone trying to hurt geralt?? a powerful rando that jaskier happened to insult?? truly, the possibilities are endless. it adds spice to their lives! jaskier claims.

--it is therefore literally impossible for geralt to come up with a comprehensive list of potential suspects. truly unfortunate, since the culprit didn't show up to cackle and gloat about it.

--(it happens with baffling frequency. jaskier thinks it's fantastic and has taken to incorporating tidbits from the monologues into rude songs he writes afterwards. sometimes jaskier's unconscious during it and complains unless geralt tells him what happened. the whole thing does make curse-breaking much easier, though, since geralt can just. like. kill them. they're right there, after all.)

--geralt, specifically, has to be the one to try to make this list, because jaskier is like. asleep. totally alive, seemingly fine, except for the part where he, yknow. can't be woken.

--through some smart thinking and keen investigative work--nah lmao just fuckin with you. geralt's a moron. he's gotta call in the intellectual cavalry. let's say yenn is off doing mysterious sorceress business and geralt's near triss's turf, so he goes to her.

--triss helps geralt figure out that it's a full sleeping beauty-style true loves kiss situation. this presents a unique opportunity for geralt! given that he is in love with jaskier. tru, he thought it might be reciprocated, but he's also a coward. this way, he gets to save jaskier's life, and doesn't have to lead with mouth-words.

--geralt kisses jaskier, right on the mouth. very soft, full of longing and promise. deep down, he thinks it'll work.

--jaskier doesn't wake up. it doesn't work.

--there is a long, deeply awkward (triss) and emotionally devastated (geralt) pause when they realize that it hasn't worked. big yikes. triss bounces to let geralt lick his wounds in peace.

--this obviously has geralt Fucked, but in no universe would he abandon jaskier because of it. ride or die baby! he's gonna fix this.

--it feels wildly invasive, but as an absolute last resort, geralt goes through jaskier's notebooks. like, the ones where he writes his songs. to try to figure out who else he might be in love with. there's plenty of geralt in there, which makes the situation both more painful (jaskier was probably really in love with him at some point!) and also super confusing (some of it seems pretty recent??)

--geralt finds other names--man, jaskier really fuckin hates valdo marx!--but none of them are Romantic. not until the later on in the book, the more recent pages. and only one name. (other than his.)

--it's yennefer's.

--there's a lot of terrible purple (hah) prose but some of its actually. good. with a lot of obvious primo yearning. geralt hasn't heard any of it played, but it's got the same flavor as a bunch of the stuff about him. he knows they've gotten to know each other more, that their interactions have shifted and evolved, but. like. this??

--listen. geralt is just having a day. several, really. this is more emotional turmoil than he's had in past couple of years combined. is he sad? is he jealous? is he consumed with a bittersweet longing?? who knows! least of all him.

--geralt calls yenn anyway. ride or die baby!! emphasis on the dying! emotionally, that is. yenn's done with whatever she was doing so geralt fills her in. her face does a number of truly complicated things that geralt very simply does not have the emotional intelligence to assess.

--anyway, yennefer portals over, takes one look at jaskier, and kisses him right on the mouth. geralt feels some kind of way about it, which is to say, he is very much about it. he expects the mortification of that to haunt him for the rest of time.

--it still doesn't work. jaskier doesn't wake up.

--they're both. so confused. geralt has 0.18 braincells, so he's trying to think of who the fuck ELSE jaskier might be in love with. yennefer has 1.82 braincells, so she's trying to figure out if they could've been wrong about the curse. eventually they rub their combined two (2) braincells together and consider the possibility that true loves can be both a possessive and a plural.

--they make a plan. it's so gross & cutesy that yennefer is, frankly, embarrassed. but. they each post up to the right and left of jaskier and, at the same time, kiss him on the cheek(s).

--it works! jaskier wakes up, geralt on one side, yennefer on the other. this is the least explicit version of this dream he's ever had. but hey! he still gets to dream of his two extremely unrequited loves at once. beggars, choosers, bards.

--still sure that he's asleep, jaskier says as much. geralt and yennefer don't cry because they're too busy wondering how they fell in love with this dumb fuck. it's a close call tho. jaskier probably does cry, just a little, after they explain.

--because emotions and endorphins are high, yennefer is like. explicit version, you say. how intriguing.

--they bang. the end. geraskefer rights.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Book Four - Part 9

Dapper wakes up somewhere new, feeling unwell, while Trick struggles alone in his room. Red, Blue, and Dok come home to help.

Tws for imprisonment, major illness, psychosis, sedation, and verbal and physical aggression from Anti.

Part 9 - The Locked Room

Anonymous asked: Sorry for saying you were a joke... it's just that your source material didn't really paint you in a nuanced or multidimensional way, and that's mostly what we're all basing our understanding on... You're a bit of a prick tho

Your camera comes back to life in unfamiliar hands as afternoon light spills across black hair and turns it to gold. Silver turns you gently in his palms, curious and bright-eyed, the panic of the night before gone from his face. Closer up, you can see some of the ways in which he is not Mark - a pair of small scars across his chin, a habit of picking at his lips that leaves them raw and red, a gauge in one ear.

As for your camera, the tiny symbol of an eye that usually resides in the corner, either opened or unopened, has been replaced by a small, presumptuous G.

“Hi,” says Shep, sat on his bed and looking at you. He hears footsteps down the hallway outside his room and furtively tucks you against his side, waiting for the steps to pass before he draws you out again.

“Hi,” he repeats, beginning to smile. “This is cool. I actually have a way to talk to you. Yeah, no, it’s okay. My source material is a joke, that’s why I said it even before you did. But - a prick?”

He pauses, glancing away.

“A prick,” he repeats in a mumble. “I think that’s new… I like that, let me just…”

He hops out of bed and takes a journal from one of his dressers, and then opens it up to reveal a long list of descriptors, some more inane than others, all printed in scrappy handwriting down the lines of his notebook. There are general adjectives in some places - “strong,” “bold,” “foolish,” “cute,” “conniving,” “selfish,” “clever,” “sweet” - but other places have full phrases or apparently random words - “you fucking annoyance,” “loves kids,” “buddy,” “your own kind of superhero,” “my soldier,” “a joke Mark forgot about,” “martial arts nerd,” “eats all the fucking candy in the house” - and it goes on for pages and pages.

On the first open line, he pulls out a pen and writes “a bit of a prick.”

Anonymous asked: damn, shepard. what happened to you lot?

Shep puts down his pen and turns to you, grinning. “Ah, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that. It’s been a long… eight years? And you haven’t exactly kept up to date with me. Which isn’t your fault. I guess. Not really.”

He side-eyes you, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“Anyway, this is my first year back in Dark’s houses for a while. I was living in the city for a few years after Dark kicked me out because I kept, uh. Bringing criminals back to the house for interrogations. They said I brought too much attention to us, so they had Google throw me out. Guess I deserved it… it turned out to be mostly okay. I had my own apartment for a while. My own pet rat. I was teaching martial arts and making rent. Then I kind of got into some trouble trying to be a fucking hero again… and I got lonely. Stressed all the time. Can’t keep a girlfriend. Rat died. Kind of a breaking point for me. So I came back here. Because of course I did. Because I always do. Because I don’t have any purpose without somebody else fucking giving it to me.”

He sighs bitterly, scratching at the web of cuts on his leg from Anti’s vines last night. Some of them are fairly deep, but he’s just stuck a mess of Band-Aids over the top and went to sleep with a towel beneath his legs just in case.

Anonymous asked: are you happy with this, shep? i'm trying to figure out how much we can trust you.

“You can trust me entirely, we’re just not on the same side,” answers Shep frankly, raising his eyebrows at you. “What’s not to trust? I belong to Dark. That’s true. There you go. Make of it what you will. And as for being happy, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve done much nastier things for Dark and enjoyed them much more. Parts of my life are still hard on me, but I’ve done what Dark tells me for the better part of eight years, ever since I pulled my head out of my ass and realized Mark was never going to come back and make me a real hero. So now I make my own choices. Sometimes I make ones he probably wouldn’t make for me. Sometimes I make ones almost no one else would be able to make. And that’s freedom. That adrenaline… that knowing that you are changing someone else’s life, that you matter, even in the worst fucking way possible… that’s freedom.”

Anonymous asked: are you doing ok, shep? seems like your life's been a bit of a mess.

“Yeah,” laughs Shep. “Honestly, things are fine now. I’m just never getting out of this house, you know? I don’t know. Ippy moved out two years ago. Yan’s in prison and nobody wants to bust her out after what she did. Dark has Google throw out or kill anybody who annoys them. Wil travels half the year, Eric works at the aquarium, Host’s published, even the twins have jobs, haha. And Bim…”

Silver scratches bitterly at his legs, maybe trying to draw a little blood now, bored of the scabs.

“Ran off about four months ago,” he mutters. “I miss him. Asshole. Didn’t tell me where he was going. Doesn’t answer his phone. Could have taken me with him. There was nobody quite that chaotic. I don’t know, maybe Dark just killed him to stop him from making our faces too public like he always wanted to, the little showman. But no, it’s okay. I’m like Google, you know? I’m just always going to be stuck in this fucking house. But I like it pretty well. Dark keeps me busy. And I like when the others come visit. I’m pretty much friends with everybody. Maybe I’ll get another rat soon.”

He flashes you a sudden look of alarm, his hands drawing away from his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m… first time I get to talk to you in years and I don’t have anything worth saying, I just - I can tell you stories! Maybe. Uh. I’m not good at telling stories. Ask Host. I should have taken video then so I could have something to show you. You’re going to forget again and then all of this will be for nothing and no one will even see me differently. Eight years! Fuck. Do you want to go talk to somebody else? I bet you do. Well, sorry I’m not good enough for you, okay? Guess I never was. Whatever.”

He shoves the camera onto the bed, picking tersely at his mouth.

The door swings suddenly open. A figure in a long coat leans against the doorway, crossing his arms.

“I can hear you being a little bitch all the way from my room,” drawls Host.

“Oh, fuck off!”

Host laughs and leaves him again. He’s not interested in chatting.

“This story isn’t about us,” he calls back at Shep. “Don’t damage the narrative integrity with your need for their attention. Let them see their baby brother. He’s not well.”

Anonymous asked: hey, shep, don't you start saying you're not good enough for us. no matter what mark says or did to you, made you a joke or whatnot, that doesn't mean you can't become something different. and i have no doubt that one day, people will know you, and people will love you. maybe you'll have your own story. you just... can't rely on mark to write it for you. sometimes you have to do things like that for yourself. and for what it's worth, i think you're pretty cool. you're different. for example, what's up with that book you just wrote in?

Shep grins weakly, acknowledging the foolishness of his own outburst.

“I try to get rid of the thoughts of him,” he says. “You should hear Dark snarl about the stories Mark told about them… but I’m just jealous. It’s stupid. And you guys - you never - ”

He shrugs and lets out a huff, the irritation fading again. He knows it’s all useless and unfair, but it never stops eating at him. What could have been. But he tries to cheer up for you.

“These are just things I am or might be,” he says, hefting the book. “Things other people have called me. I try to figure out which ones are true. And which ones I want to be. I’m not good at that part so much, though. Sometimes I decide I want to be, like, nice, but then next thing I know I’m shouting at somebody for looking at me wrong, ha. I’m glad the others put up with me. I mean, some of them are dicks. But we kind of make a team together.”

“I’m not what I was then,” he adds after a moment. “So maybe I broke away a little. But at the same time, I’m not sure the story I’ve told is the one that I wanted. Or the one that I want.”

Anonymous asked: it's okay, shep, we don't mind hearing you talk. could we go see dapper, though? i'm a little worried about him.

Shep lets out a sigh, breathing out some of his anxiety. “Yeah. Sure. Is that actually his goddamn name? We’ve got some pretty nutty names around here, but not ‘Dapper.’ I guess it’s kind of cute.”

He gets to his feet and scoops you up, wandering down the stairs. The house is quiet but for the whirling of a fan overhead and the buzzing of a show somebody left playing on the TV. Out in the yard, you catch a glimpse of a few of them playing badminton, dropping the birdie most of the time and then racing each other to pick it up and bring it back to their side. Wilford’s booming voice drifts into the house as though from much farther away than it is. Around their feet, barking joyfully, is a dog almost as enormous as Anti’s wolf-like form, wagging its tail furiously and racing to the birdie along with its owners.

“Actually,” says Shep, pausing outside the only door with extra locks. “I’m not sure Ippy will want me inside. Let’s see if he’s in here.”

He pushes the door gently open. Edward only glances up for a second before turning back to his notes. It’s a makeshift clinic room, barely even the size of the bedrooms, and it’s cramped with a desk and a bed and some examination equipment and dressers with supplies in them. Dapper’s on the bed, tucked up tight, asleep.

“What’s that?” asks Ippy.

“Uh, a camera.”

“Is it now?” he answers dryly.

“There’s an audience or something.”

“Is there someone who can tell me what’s going on with my patient?”

“Well. I guess. I think.”

Ippy reaches out, beckoning for the camera. Shep hands it over and Ippy drops you on the bed, still scrawling in his little notebook. “I’d like medical history, please, allergies, recent injuries, notable behaviors, sleeping habits, blood type, next of kin, etc. Start talking.”

Shep chuckles at his bluntness and pulls up a chair beside him, grinning at his friend as he works.

“What are you looking at?” mutters Ippy, and he reaches out to shove playfully at Shep’s head. “Called me in on my day off for this, huh. Fuckers. You’re lucky he’s actually sick or I’d be peeved.”

Anonymous asked: you can always change. seriously, shep, it's never too late to become someone different. and i'm sorry that none of us did anything. it's difficult, when mark made so many videos and gave so many more characters attention and left others with nothing. you did not deserve that, and i'm genuinely so sorry. does mark still even make videos? we haven't heard anything about him in a long time.

“You’re talking to them about this?” asks Ippy.

Shep shrugs, settling down in his chair.

“It’s very simple, Shepherd. Mark doesn’t have much control of his power and even if he did you were still early enough that you would have been created.”

“I know, Ip.”

“Telling a story about you would only limit your freedom and subject us to more publicity, which is dangerous.”

“I know, Ippy.”

“The audience can’t do anything for us without videos and them dwelling on the thought of us does not make you any more of a - ”

“I know, Edward!” snaps Shep. “Okay?”

Ippy rolls his eyes and turns back to Dapper.

“Mark makes videos sometimes, but he focuses on bigger productions,” adds Shep with a sigh. “I think he mostly wrapped up ego stuff, but you never know with him. We don’t talk. And ever since he got that bigger deal as a real producer - ”

“Can we not talk about Mark?” asks Ippy. “I don’t like hearing about him. He’s fine, I guess, but I just prefer to live a Mark-less life at this point, thanks. A life unmarked by Mark, as it were.”

“You really are peeved today.”

“I just have boundaries, Shep, maybe you should learn some.”

.

Dok wakes to the buzzing of the lights in the bathroom.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling his back protest, but the cold plastic of a hospital chair is much better than waking up in that room back in the house, aching on the unfinished floor, dreaming of spiders crawling over his skin. He shudders and sits up, pulling his - oh. This is Red’s hoodie, wrapped around him. He sighs and glances at his brother splayed over the side of Blue’s bed, dead asleep.

The bathroom is silent but for those burning lights. He waits a long time, but nothing moves.

“Blue?” he calls wearily, getting to his feet. He knocks his fist gently against the door. “Okay? Want the nurse or something?”

Blue doesn’t answer.

“Hey, Blue, no silences,” he begs with a sigh, rubbing at his head. “Too many nights finding Trick hurting himself in the bathroom. Come on.”

Blue mumbles something. Dok grimaces and pushes open the door.

He’s okay, which he’s grateful for, though he’s almost too tired to be relieved. He steps forward and takes Blue carefully by the wrists. He was just standing there staring at them. Too intently. Too blankly.

“What’s going on?” asks Dok.

Blue turns to look at him and his eyes are fogged and all but blind. Dok touches his cheek to ground him, sighing in his brother’s stead.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry. Tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t… know. Just… looking at myself. So weird.”

“What’s weird?”

Blue reaches out and touches his own reflection on the surface of the mirror.

“Not me,” he mumbles. “More and more often, it’s not me. Not real. It makes me feel really… I don’t… I don’t like it.”

Dok shifts on his feet and pulls his sibling’s fingers away. “That’s called dissociation,” he says. “I get it too sometimes when Anti uses me. It can’t be easy having been possessed so often lately.”

Blue shakes his head numbly, managing to fix his eyes on him for a moment. “Dissociation,” he repeats.

“Let’s ground. Tell me three things about your body.”

“What?”

“Look. In the mirror. Tell me three things about yourself. Anything. Obvious things. It’s okay.”

Blue stares into the mirror, blinking. His mouth parts. But he doesn’t say anything. After a moment, there are tears welling in his eyes.

“Blue,” breathes Dok.

“Sorry,” repeats Blue frailly, turning away from the sight of himself, covering his face with his hands. He doesn’t want to see himself. He doesn’t want Dok to look at him. He doesn’t want anyone to look at him ever again.

“What’s going on?”

“I just want Anti’s fucking head, alright?” snaps Blue. “I just want to murder him. And then I’ll feel like myself again, and I’ll get my magic back, and then my body back, and we can have a chance to be okay again. And until then I just have to deal with this. Until I rip his goddamn throat out. Like I promised him I would. When my hands are covered in his blood, then I’ll feel better.”

Dok looks at him, taken a little aback. His hands curl together nervously on his stomach. He stares down at the floor.

Blue sighs bitterly through his teeth, shaking his head. “I know you don’t like talking about blood. Sorry.”

Dok shrugs. “Is fine.”

“Dok, I just can’t take much more, you know that, I know you feel the same way… surely you get this same bloodlust, don’t you, my darling? He’s been torturing you. Don’t you want to torture him back?”

Dok’s stomach turns. He takes a step back, shaking his head.

“I would not like to ever torture anybody ever again,” he says quietly. “I have had my fair share, thank you.”

They stand side-by-side in the bathroom, frowning together, cold.

“What if it doesn’t make it better?” asks Dok.

“What?”

“What if killing Anti doesn’t make it feel better?”

“Killing Anti will solve most every problem of mine I can think of,” answers Blue soundly, straightening up.

“Oh, goodness,” grumbles Dok, rolling his eyes. “I’m not even going to start with you.”

“Better not, you sassy little monkey man.”

“Monkey man? I am monkey man? How dare you say this.”

“Yeah. You’re bananas.”

“Blue, I will end you.”

But he’s laughing now and that’s what matters. Dok snorts and rolls his eyes, trying to let himself laugh a little too. He leaves the bathroom and flops down on his chair, gazing at Blue as he limps back into his bed and sits down. They look at each other for a long moment, trying to make each other smile with their own tired grins.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” whispers Blue. “I wish I could keep all of you safe.”

“Don’t have to be sorry,” Dok says again, letting his eyes slip shut. “I know you’re trying so hard. It’s not your fault at all.”

“I’ll kill Anti for you,” Blue swears, his eyes shining through the haze that seems to lie over them most days. “Then we can be okay again.”

“And what if we can’t?” asks Dok, barely even registering the words before he feels them leave his mouth. “What if we can’t kill him, Blue? What happens then?”

Blue stares out at the smog of the sky, wishing he could see the stars.

“Then I think he’ll kill us instead,” he answers simply. “And then, either way… it’ll be over.”

Dok nods slowly, not opening his eyes. Blue reaches out. They hold each other’s hands in the low light.

.

Anonymous asked: Hey there Ippy, we don't know much about Jameson medically, besides that he has schizophrenia and takes the medicine Haloperidol/Haldol, and he's allergic to rowan (as though he might be a chageling?). He's not a regular human either, he's basically Jacksepticeye's version of you guys.

“Ohhh,” says Ippy, standing slightly outside his clinic, arms crossed over his chest and eyes wide. “Schizophrenia. I’m relieved, actually. Because if this was fever delirium… we would have a problem.”

Google leaps out of the room, synthetic blood dripping down his neck, and slams the door hard behind him, panting. From within the room, hissing.

“Kid’s fucking nuts,” Gigi snarls.

“Kid’s fucking delusional,” answers Ippy sharply. “And that’s not his fault. This is on you for kidnapping somebody with a psychotic disorder.”

“He would have died there anyway,” sneers Gigi, stalking past Ippy. He has a red shirt now instead of blue. “That little monster wasn’t going to get him any help for that infection. And if you don’t do something fast, he’ll die here instead. He’s exhausting himself. Sedate him again.”

“No. Too much sedating. We have to calm him down. I’ll give him his Haldol intravenously so he can’t throw it up with this fever. You just have to steal some for me.”

“I only take orders from the Darkness,” answers Google.

Ippy sighs and shakes his head, turning stonily back to the door of his clinic. “If this doesn’t change, I’m sending him back to his brothers.”

“That place has no family. And Dark will speak with him before he’s let go. You get him well enough that he can have a discussion, then he’s free to go.”

Anonymous asked: JJ, honey, are you doing alright? I know you must be absolutely terrified right now, but at the very least you're getting medical treatment and they plan to give you back to Anti after you have a discussion with the Darkness. I know it'll be absolutely terrifying, but I think it's the only way to get home. Ippy is going to give you Haldol, if you'll let him? You'll feel much clearer if you do, then maybe you can make plans on what to do next.

JJ has not struggled this much with his symptoms since he and Red were homeless in Columbia and he knows it.

But he can’t make it stop.

“Tell my big brothers to come get me if they have to kill everyone in this house to do it!” his hands scream, and that is the last coherent thought you get out of him.

He moves! He has to move. He doesn’t just pace, he darts around the room, he races. His hands strike strike strike every surface. He pauses only for a moment to be sick over the waste basket, leaving him pale and dizzy, but even then his body is consumed by wracking spasms and shakes. He spins in a circle. He can’t stop looking at the lights no matter how hard he tries. His eyes are up, up, up. Fluttering, rolled back. Watching the light. Fixed on the light. If he looks away bad things will happen. The cameras told him so. Didn’t they? Someone did and he knows it must be true. He has to look at the light or the Darkness will get him.

“I’m already here,” whispers Dark’s voice in JJ’s head. He spasms and jolts back with terror, rubbing at his arms and shaking himself like he’s trying to act out a seizure, but despite his frantic motion and his fear, his face is numbed to any emotion, blank as it was when Red would struggle to understand him in Columbia. Dapper starts to sign wildly, but the words don’t make sense together to anyone but him.

“Skin. I was in. Blood up tree branch he made me go there and I didn’t want to! Can’t Red come? Miss candy and bedsheets, where? The radio, turn down. Does my blood come up? Does my blood rise?”

Ippy peeks his head inside the room. Dapper turns and sends a lamp flying towards him, smashing it against the wall, and Ippy ducks away again. Dapper grins joylessly, with his teeth, his eyes rolled towards the lights on the ceiling. He holds up his wrists and his hands dangle as though on string. Then he crumples to the ground, dazed and panting, scratching at the fever in his face.

“Jackie,” he begs. “Chase.”

Anonymous asked: dapper, jamie, my dear. you're okay, yeah? we would tell you if we thought you were in danger. and now i'm telling you to try to be calm, okay? we'll tell you if we think you're in danger. i promise.

For just a moment, he manages to drag his flickering eyes over to you. There’s a red light on the camera. That counts, right? Does it? His hands search the floors for his bear. Trick packed his things. Didn’t he? But what if it was a trick? Isn’t that why he named him that? Also guns and grey shirts.

He rubs at his aching, pounding head, and swats at a tactile hallucination on his legs. Just a snake, though, and those you don’t have to worry about. It’s dogs and cats that will tear their teeth into you.

He registers the promise vaguely, but his paranoia is so high he could be home safe and sound and still feel that Dark was slowly killing him. He casts his eyes over your message, counting the y’s. Nine. Does that mean something? He knows it means something. The universe is trying to talk to him. God is trying to talk to him. He just needs to listen.

Anonymous asked: ippy's gonna get you your haldol, okay? he's kind. he won't hurt you. do you think you can agree to that, dap? that way, if you are in danger, it'll be clearer, and if it's a hallucination that'll be clearer too.

He would like his Haldol. He would. That’s one of the only mercies Anti usually grants him. He registers that someone is coming into the room and you said it was okay. He rocks his head back and forth, trying to think, feeling drool clinging to his lips. Where is he?

Ippy tries again. Creeping, patient, quiet.

“Are you feeling up to talking?” he asks quietly, when he manages to get into the room without being assaulted. Dapper learned from Anti and when he does not have a blade he makes use of his teeth and his mean white fingernails.

Dapper rocks his head, still trembling from the catatonia, burning with fever.

“I don’t know where to fucking start,” Ippy mumbles, kneeling down beside him. “You’re going to puke up your medication. Google might get you some of the liquid stuff, might not. Depends how generous he thinks he’s being. And what Dark tells him…”

Dapper shudders, baring his teeth.

“Please turn down the radio,” he says, clawing at his ears between signs, but it just looks like more frantic movement to Ippy. “So many people talking all at once.”

“Can I give you something for the fever?” asks Ippy, getting up to get him some water and medicine. “Yeah? Try to keep you hydrated? I need to look at your wrist.”

Dapper clutches his arm to his chest, squirming. “Anti? You’re playing games with me? Can I come out, please? Been good.”

scunneredzombie asked: Jay, they're going to give you some of your medicine. You have a really bad fever right now, it's most likely making the psychosis much much worse. We're here to help and so is Ippy. You will be okay. Breathe, Dapper, just breathe. You will get through this. Remind yourself of things you know are real, things that are unchanging and true no matter what. Cling to those for now. That's what I do during my psychotic episodes.

What’s real? What’s unchanging? What’s true?

Dapper squints his eyes up at the light on the ceiling and tries to think. His hand is still searching for his things. Ippy passes his backpack towards him and Dapper finds his bear, dragging his gaze down to it. Red and Blue and Dok got it for him for Christmas this year. He’s had it for months, even in Columbia. The fur is alpaca. It doesn’t feel quite like any other texture. Cloudy and thick at the same time. Warm. It still smells, faintly, of their home in Peru.

He tries to breathe.

“Okay, I’m going to try to give you some medicine here,” Edward warns him carefully, moving closer. “It’s good for you. Just to bring the fever down a little. I’ll look at your wrist again here in a minute.”

JJ scoots away, shaking his head, but it only makes him dizzy. A hundred voices speak to him. Edward’s is rich and deep and all too familiar. He concentrates on the faint beep of the camera, a sound he’s grown used to over months and months of what would otherwise be total loneliness.

He hopes Trick is okay at home. He’s sorry he left him alone.

Anonymous asked: yeah, you're doing well, dap. just gotta hang on a little longer, okay? and ippy will help you, dap. you don't have to trust him, but you trust us, don't you? and we trust him. it's okay, dap. you're gonna be okay.

Ippy takes his chin in his hand and angles him towards him.

Nope.

Anchors fall away and Dapper feels something inside himself snap. This has always been the rule. This has always been the rule, the rule he has learned since his creation: no one touches him but Anti and his brothers.

No one.

And the punishments he’s seen Anti inflict on those who broke that rule -

Dapper does not often wish for a voicebox that works. But right now, all he wants to do is fucking scream.

His teeth flash and bite down hard on Ippy’s hand, making Dark’s look-alike yelp in alarm. Dapper slams their heads together and grabs him by the throat, burning with fury, burning with fear, burning alive on a pyre he did not set, and then Google is there, and he has him by the hair, and he shoves a needle deep into the neck of Anti’s most savage attack dog.

Dapper quails, gripping frantically at Gigi’s hand. He chokes and looks up into deep brown eyes. There is no red glow.

He slides to the ground, asleep. Google lets him go.

“Alright?” asks Google quietly.

Ippy swears under his breath and puts his hand to his forehead, teeth marks indented in the skin. “I’m fine, goddammit.”

“Keep him asleep til he’s better,” says Gigi. “I will not tell you again.”

Edward shakes his head slowly, biting his lip, but he doesn’t protest.

Jamie sleeps. The fever is burning in his flesh.

Anonymous asked: Trick is right, Anti. You keep asking, multiple times now, "why did this all fall apart?" And the answer is because you constantly excuse your cruelty, excuse your abuse and all the pain you cause, by blaming Jack and saying you "can't control yourself". You, sir, are just as capable as anyone else in the world of controlling your temper and controlling your aggression. You need to stop making excuses. They will leave over and over and over if you do not change.

“Leave over and over,” mutters Anti under his breath, his eyes angry, aglow in the morning light through the great window in the master bedroom.

Trick is still asleep, though he shifts now, his hair mussed around his eyes. The roots have turned brown. The bright green is beginning to fade to yellow.

Anti wraps his arms around his waist, tugging him close. Trick rolls over with a yawn, trying to rise, but Anti’s grip holds him in place. Trick cracks open an eye and finds himself pressed against him.

“Anti, hey, wake up,” he mumbles, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Lemme go. I want a shower and some coffee.”

Anti is already awake, but Trick can’t see that, and he doesn’t move. Trick pauses. He starts trying to squirm out of Anti’s arms without moving enough to wake him if he is sleeping, but he doesn’t have much luck. Anti tightens his arms around him as he tries to escape.

“Anti?”

Anti glares out the window, ignoring his wriggling. Eventually, blinking in surprise, Trick just stays in place.

Leave over and over. Anti grips his ribs until his fingernails put cuts in Trick’s shirt. Leave. Ha. He isn’t going anywhere.

Anonymous asked: are you alright then, anti?

Anti gets out of bed after a half hour has passed. Trick is hot and uncomfortable, needing to stretch and change out of his sweaty sleeping clothes and use the bathroom. But he’s stopped struggling by the time Anti releases him.

The glitch gets to his feet and picks out an appearance for the day in the mirror, settling on the younger man he wore when Dapper was created, ruffling teal hair in the mirror. Trick sits up and gives him a smile. Anti doesn’t answer your question, but the way he looks at Trick - he focuses on the bruises someone left in his wrist as they pulled him along. Something simmers in Anti’s eyes. He turns towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asks Trick, hurrying out of bed. “Hey - Anti? Come on, have breakfast with me or something. Don’t leave me, dude.”

“I have to go get your little brother,” answers Anti. “Just stay here, Trick.”

“Anti, I - ”

He glitches away.

Trick stares at the door, mouth slightly parted.

Anonymous asked: You gonna do something that will stop Dark from kicking your ass a second time?

“Where in the narrative did Dark kick my ass?” snaps Anti, stalking into the forest. “Last I checked I was tearing them and their fucking soldiers a new one when Bubblegum McGee scoops my kiddo off the ground and disappears like the deranged little thief he is. And then all of them went sprinting for the hills. No. When I find Dark, I’m burning down everything they love and tearing apart that mangled excuse for a spine of theirs. Then we’ll see if they remember me.”

Anonymous asked: Trick? You want to talk for a bit?

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” says Trick, trying to recover quickly, nodding his head and straightening up. “Yes, please. House is super quiet without anybody else! Last time I was this alone was when Blue was in hospital and I’d come back to the house and try not to worry about everybody else too much. But I do have Noodle! He’s always got my back. I’m just going to get changed and then we’ll go make some breakfast and check on kitty cat, yeah? Doesn’t have to be a sucky day just cause things are trying to go bad. I can stay positive.”

Anonymous asked: Alright, we'll just have a bit of a "you" day. Decompress a bit. It's good to check in on yourself and have a little time off. (Give noodle some pets please!)

“Yes,” laughs Trick. He worries at his hands, yes, kneading his fingers into his palms, and you can see the edge of a breakdown somewhere in the back of his eyes, but he has survived a lot and he wants to prove to himself that he can be okay even without Dok sometimes. Maybe even to be okay when Dok isn’t, so he can look after him better. So he can look after all of them better.

Next time they’re scared enough to run away, he wants to be someone they can trust.

“Decompress - play some games, probably - chill with my cat - cook a ton - swim, maybe… yeah!” Trick pulls his shirt over his head and turns toward the door, grabbing the handle. “I’ll - ”

It’s locked.

Trick stops. Tries it again. Stares. Glances at you. Tries again.

It’s still locked.

He stands in front of the door. His hand rests on the door handle.

Outside, a mewl.

Anonymous asked: can the window open, trick?

“The… window?” he asks. “Yeah… yeah, it can. But I’m on the second story.”

He moves to the window and lets it swing open. The fresh air and the scent of the forest are refreshing, but the red brick of the patio is still several meters down.

Anonymous asked: where's noodle?

Claws pick at the carpet outside Anti’s bedroom. Trick hurries back to the door and kneels down, crouching to try and see his cat through the crack beneath it.

“Mrow,” complains Noodle loudly, scraping at the carpet with his claws out. “Meehhhh.”

“Daddy’s here, kitty cat, I’m right here.” Trick reaches for him as though he could pull him beneath the door. Noodle attacks one of his fingers, chewing on the end, but Trick doesn’t even mind. “Are you hungry? I’m sorry I didn’t let you out last night. Things were crazy, baby. But I’m coming, boyo, I’ll… I’ll, uh…”

What is he supposed to do?

Anonymous asked: do you think anti will be mad if you leave the room?

“I don’t know. It was probably an accident.”

Noodle yowls on the other side of the door. Trick stares at his kitten’s paws, his eyebrows drawn back in worry. You see him look down at his feet.

He knows it wasn’t an accident. And he wouldn’t have locked it if he was okay with Trick leaving.

Anonymous asked: Okay unless we know a for our window downstairs is unlocked, I wouldn't use the window, don't want you getting locked out of the house entirely. You think you might be able to find a key or break the lock if you need to?

“It’s… maybe I could? I don’t want to get in trouble. But there’s no keyhole on this side. I’d have to really bust the door up. And then he’d be so angry.”

Trick steps back from the door, chewing on his nails. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “Okay. I wish he hadn’t done this, but he did. I’m safe in here. I have a bathroom with water and all the stuff I packed into a bag in case I got kidnapped is here. Dapper was keeping food in the drawers. I’m okay. But my poor cat…”

Anonymous asked: for now, at least, you can make sure noodle has food, right? is the food only in there? maybe you can grab a little something and push it under the door

“That’s a good idea. Okay, let me look.”

He goes back to the bottom drawer and pulls it open to reveal Dapper’s stash. He recoils a little, scrunching up his nose - he hadn’t realized how bad it smelled in the panic of last night, but now he notices.

“This is kind of nasty… we’ve only been here a couple weeks. Why would he keep - ugh, cheese!” Trick chucks the hot string cheese towards the trash, making a gagging motion. “He has to know this would go bad right away, right? Why even take it? Look, my cookies from last week. Hard as rocks cause he didn’t even ask me to wrap them. There’s lint on them. He just shoved them in his pockets. Fuck’s sake… oh!”

Here’s some stuff that should still be edible. Crackers still in their packs. A couple apples. Tupperware with brownies. One pack of raisins, one pack of dried cranberries. And a little pack of Dapper’s favorite - jerky. Most of it is gone, but there are a few good chunks still at the bottom.

“At least I can give him something, then,” says Trick, taking a breath.

Anonymous asked: Anti keeps his favorite trophy locked up in a case when not in use

Trick looks at you, eyes wide, and then away, trying to make himself scowl. He crouches down beside the door and pushes dried meat towards his cat. Noodle seems to accept the offering. He goes quiet and Trick hears him chewing. It’ll take him a while to get through that.

Trick sits back on his heels and stares at the door.

“Always wanted to be Anti’s favorite trophy,” he mumbles, something frightened and tired passing across his face. “Or thought I did, I guess.”

Anonymous asked: you have a choice, then, trick. do you want our help in leaving the room, to go to noodle? or will you stay here and wait for anti to come back and let you out?

Trick sighs and slumps down against the door, rubbing at his face. He stares out the window and thinks.

“You know… I think I’ll try to stay here for a while,” he says, giving you a smile that looks more like a grimace. “It’s not bad. We’ve definitely stayed in much worse places! I have lots of room and a clean bathroom and everything I need. Maybe I’ll take a bath. Yeah… it’s okay.”

He glances around the room. How long has he been in here? Two hours? Oh, twenty minutes. He bites his lip and sighs. He puts his head between his knees and rubs at the back of his neck.

“Always kind of knew it couldn’t really be fun for anybody to be locked in a room all day. But I thought maybe, with Dapper’s nerves, it was better for him just to stay up there with Anti. And when I imagined it, I guess I made everything nice. Him getting to eat his own food, sleep whenever he wants, just working on his art all the time. Doing whatever he wanted, you know? I usually imagined Anti actually… being here, though. Yeah. I guess that I thought that when he loved me, I’d be able to feel it.”

Trick pauses, looking up. Looking out at the sun.

“That’s always the thing with me, though,” he says. “Even when I know for a fact people love me - it doesn’t always feel that way. And I thought - well, Anti, he just… with his power, it’s like he can make me feel that way. Or maybe it’s just him. But those days when I would just spend all my time praying to impress him… and then he would brush his hand across my hair or smile at me… it would be my favorite part of the week. Like I finally got it all right. Like I’m finally worthwhile.”

He puts his head down again, looking at the carpet, his fringe falling into his eyes. It occurs to him that he doesn’t really like bright green. Or dying yellow.

“I love him,” he says, a little hollowly. “But I think maybe Dok was always right. Nobody else can magically fix me. I need to stop expecting Anti to put everything right in my head. That’s not fair to either of us. I should have been happier just being with Dok. Cause Anti gave me these bursts of joy, yeah, and he’s trying to be better to me these days - but Dok has been the earth beneath my feet for months now.”

He stares at the food in the drawer, rotting. He tugs uselessly on the door handle. He stares around the silent, empty room, and the silence stares back, and says nothing.

“I shouldn’t have been jealous of my little brother,” says Trick, heart sinking. “I should have been making sure he had ground to stand on too.”

Anonymous asked: yeah, i get that, trick. and i think anti does love you, as much as he can love someone anyway. although, trick, you don't have to answer this now, and if you don't want to talk about this right now i'll stop, but trick? if given a choice between dok and anti, who would you choose?

“Oh, hey,” protests Trick, a little weakly. “That’s family both, we don’t talk like that. Hey, it’s okay to love people in different ways, and I know you don’t like Anti. But the truth is that just because I’m closer to Dok, I would never ‘choose him’ over any of the others. We all gotta just love each other in the way we need. I want to do what’s best for all of them. If… if Dok and Red and Blue need some space from Anti, well… maybe they should have some. But even if I lived with some of them instead of the others, it’s not because I’m trying to pick someone as my favorite. We just all need different things at different times. Whoever needs me most is who I ‘choose.’ Whoever I can help. And I hope it’s always… all of them, you know? When you’re a family, helping one person is good for everyone.”

Anonymous asked: It's easy to fall into a "grass is greener" mentality but abuse is abuse no matter if you're crouched by a window with a gun, locked away in an attic, or running through the streets with stolen drugs. I don't blame you for wanting a higher standing with Anti but he's not going to give you what you want, to no failing of your own.

“Ha! Okay, fair… maybe being in the basement and being in the attic both kind of suck. But I’ve always had Dok. Having someone there with you is what makes it not sucky. Look, this house is fucking awesome! But there’s no one here with me right now. And that does kind of suck, even worse than when Dok and I were sleeping in the same pile of cheap blankets beside a window in a broken down cabin during a Norwegian fall. We had a good time in Norway, didn’t we? Before everything went wrong? Do you remember… we got fish in a restaurant in town, ha… and I got my crinkle paper…”

Trick pulls it out of the pocket of his basketball shorts and presses his fingers to the crinkly baby paper, familiar and fond. He smiles while his eyes grieve.

Anonymous asked: Those sound like fair conclusions, Trick. It sounds like you've been thinking a lot about yourself and how you've interacted with your family in the past. That's really good; well done. For what it's worth, I am really sorry you got left here alone. You don't deserve that. Are you sure you don't want help leaving, or looking for something else to do?

“Aww, you guys are like my therapists now,” laughs Trick, genuinely pleased. “That’s sweet, thanks. No, um… I’ll stay here a while, I guess. Think Dap would mind me looking through his sketchbooks? Maybe I’ll draw a little myself. Or… write, maybe. Yeah. Maybe I’ll write a little.”

Anonymous asked: trick, that's admirable. and i do mean that. you have a lot of loyalty. but trick, it's not just that they need some space from anti. anti has hurt them, time and time again. family doesn't hurt each other like that, trick. anti has gone too far, many, many times.

“I am loyal,” he agrees quickly, because that’s something he’s always known and one of the few things he’s almost always liked about himself. “Yes. Mh.”

He pulls his eyes away from the rest of the message uncertainly, fiddling with his hands as he sits down on Anti’s bed and pulls Dapper’s latest sketchbook off the bedside drawer. He’s grinning for a minute. They’re mostly pictures of animals. Some people scattered in there - dancers and babies and old people in love. Dapper’s good and he’s gotten even better since the last time Trick checked in on his art, which was… how long ago?

But there are other things in the pages too.

Faces that almost hurt from how familiar and yet unrecognizable they are. Images Trick recognizes from Dapper’s hallucinations, painful and threatening. One baby that is not like the rest in a way Trick can’t express. And… himself?

Himself burning?

Trick takes a moment to realize what this is. The night he got the burn that now laces from his palm to the back of his hand. He hadn’t realized Dapper remembered, or was even there, watching, as it happened.

In the image, a dark figure shoves him towards the fire. His shirt sleeve is already ablaze, his hand consumed, and yet - despite the fire, despite the pain, his eyes are like those of a monk in Mass, wide, adoring, tear-filled - and those eyes are fixed on the creature pulling him into the flame.

Trick shoves the sketchbook away from him, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he croaks, turning his face away from you. “Later. Okay? Later, I promise, just… not right now.”

It is the second time he has pushed your concerns aside in as many nights. There are messages waiting for him that he’s avoiding. But he still isn’t ready to hear it.

Anonymous asked: okay. that's okay, trick. do you wanna talk about something else, then? i can tell you a funny thing one of my birds did, if you'd like.

“Ha. Birds, wow, that’s awesome. Yeah, sure! Tell me.”

Anonymous asked: alright! so, my sister has an obvious favorite, and the bird knows it, and likes to hang out on people's shoulders and stuff. and today, she flew up onto my arm, and then stared at me face very curiously, and so i started talking to her, and she immediately tried to eat my teeth. very smart bird, who apparently does not quite get what is or is not food. she's very funny.

Trick snorts and covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh, no! I do not like the sensation I am imagining. A beak picking at my teeth, haha. Geez. Sounds like a funny bird. Noodle likes to try to eat toes when we move at night.”

Anonymous asked: oh, yeah, my friend's cats are kinda like that too. for a while, when they were kittens, we had to be careful because they would try to attack our feet. is noodle chaotic like that?

“Half the time he is nuts-o crazy boy, and then half the time he pretends he’s a perfect angel and he just wants all of Daddy’s attention and all of Uncle’s attention and everybody’s attention one hundred percent of the time. And he looks up at you and cries until you scratch him.”

Anonymous asked: oooo, do you write, trick?

“Well, I thought since I’m sure jabbering your guys’ ears off, I could write some shit down. Dok had me do that for a while once. It was right after… well, there’s blurry spots in my memory. It was right after I started being his twin. I was pretty low. I was, um. Self-harming a lot. Losing a lot of my memories. So he recommended I write stuff down. Whatever I was feeling. And he said even he wouldn’t read it, he promised. We were in this kind of warehouse place at the time, and there was nowhere to sleep. Not a lot of privacy except my pieces of paper. They’re gone now. But I think they kept me focused on something, at the time.”

He holds Dapper’s pencil in his hand, taking a loose sheet of paper. But his eyes get fixed on the stretched out sketchbook on the floor once again. He looks away from the image of himself with a grimace.

That night - that look on his face - that wasn’t what he remembers. Not exactly.

Want to know a secret? he writes.

He has scrawling, beautiful, messy handwriting.

I was pissed at you that night. You left me and Dok to freeze. I don’t even think I started that fire because I was trying to keep Dok warm.

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. Bites on his lip. Puts his pencil back down.

I wanted to make you angry. I wanted there to be a confrontation. I was angry at you. But I didn’t know how to tell you because you didn’t care about me back then and that was what burned, more than this goddamn scar on my hand. I wanted to hurt you for hurting me. But all you did was hurt me worse. You act like you want things to be good between us now but we’ve never even talked about

He stops and sighs and scowls before crumpling the paper up, scratching at his scalp.

“Forget it,” he mumbles. “Not that. Just…”

Noodle mewls at the door, beginning to get bored with his jerky. Trick smiles softly and chuckles, turning away.

When you were a kitten your body was like a slinky and I could feel every one of your bones. Hot little spine rubbing against my wide palms. Big fuzzy leaf ears. When you were a kitten you made a weight beneath my throat and when I breathed I would feel the tiny thump of your heart. You are the memory of someone I lost.

And Trick is stopped again, closing his eyes again, turning away again.

“Maybe I’ll just go get a hot bath. Relax a while. I’m okay. Poor kitty cat. Don’t be lonely, okay, baby boy? I’ll be back in a while.”

Anonymous asked: Keep your head high and your standards higher, Trick.

“My standards for this rich guy’s bath are high as fuck right now,” he says, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Motherfucker got bath bombs and everything. This better be some Spirited Away experience or I’m out. Minus the evil lady, though. Just the big steamy bath and the nostalgia, please. Hey, keep an eye on my kitty for me, yeah? You’re still in the cameras all over the house? I’ll be out in a little while. Maybe a long while. Thanks, guys. Uh. For real.”

Anonymous asked: I'm sure noodle is going to be okay, Trick. If you're worried about him just stay near the door and he should be fine óvò You might want to try to slip him something to eat tho, I have no idea when was the last time anyone could've fed that kitty

Trick slips him one more piece of jerky and lets him chew on his finger for a moment before he slips into the bathroom. Noodle has his snack happily outside the door, and then, deprived of Trick’s presence, he goes exploring.

Trick has made toys for him out of anything he could find. He plays with string and a ball that makes a jangling sound. He zips around the house for a while. He searches for Trick and Dok, or anybody to give him some attention.

Usually they’re down in the basement. Usually they all stay down in the basement, Noodle himself shut in most of the day to avoid Anti, though he’s perfectly content to stay down there with everything he needs. But today, he gets to explore. The door was opened while Dark’s soldiers searched the house and he’s free to roam. It’s a little exciting.

He’s okay. For now, he’s okay. Trick has fed him and there’s a little water still in his bowl by the door. He’s okay.

But Trick was too hot in his bed for a reason. And he’s right - the windows do open.

Noodle gets tired of the basement. Noodle gets tired of his toys. Noodle wants to see Trick and the others.

He explores. The fresh breeze and the smell of the trees - the movement of the grass and the warmth of the sun - the song of the birds, the scurrying of mice, the cool water of the pool - they call to him.

He has not been outside since he was too small for anything but milk. Not until today.

He slips out through the window of Red and Blue’s room, and he explores.

Anonymous asked: hey, shep? dapper's brother has a golden cat, who we just saw leave, but he's away from the cameras at the moment so we can't tell him about it yet. could you and the others keep an eye out for the cat? his name is noodle, although i don't know if he knows it or not.

Shep hears the beeping in his pocket and pulls the camera out immediately.

“Shep! Come on, throw it in!”

“Just a second!”

His eyes scan your message and brighten, a hint of gold from the sun lighting up the brown curve of his irises. He feigns disinterest for a moment, pausing to kick a soccer ball back towards someone on the lawn. You can hear a dog barking and voices chatting. The sun is overhead. It’s a beautiful day.

“Would that make you happy?” asks Shep. “If I found the cat for you?”

He looks up at the forest.

Outside of the sunlight, Darkness reigns in more ways than one. The trees are thick and tall and heavy, shrouding the earth in a loving chill. Animals scamper across the dirt and lean plants curl up from the ground and latch onto the broad backs of trees, clinging to damp red wood. And for miles - for miles - it stretches on before him.

“Okay, then,” he says. “I will.”

Anonymous asked: it would help. thank you, shep. anti doesn't like animals, so i wouldn't recommend bringing the cat back to the house they're in, but you can bring it here and we'll tell the brother about it.

“I’ll start looking right now,” he says. “It’s a big forest. But I can do it.”

Anonymous asked: sleeby jj...Soff sleeby bean.. get well soon

His eyes slide open to your familiar light.

He stares at you for a second, his eyes heavy with shadowed circles.

Then he registers the message and manages to roll his eyes for the first time in days, huffing out a bit of a sigh.

“Not a bean.”

It’s only as he signs it that he realizes he’s no longer restrained.

He sits up slowly, pressing his palm to his forehead and grimacing. He doesn’t feel well at all. His stomach swims with nausea and he can feel his blood chugging sluggishly through his veins. But it’s better than the last few days.

He glances around the room, blinking slowly. He’s alone and there’s light streaming in through the barred window.

Alright. He’s had his nap. Time to start trying to escape.

Anonymous asked: Jj, think about this first. Anti is already coming for you, and if you try to escape you'll be in miles and miles of unknown forest, with no haldol, no medication for your fever, and no way to be sure you can get home. At least maybe wait until you've gotten over the infection and until you can steal some haldol to have with you? Just trying to analyze the situation fully before action is taken.

“I am not going to sit quietly while the monster who has haunted my nightmares - well, one of them - keeps me prisoner. I only do that for Anti. Come on, don’t be boring! Help me get out, yeah?”

He struggles to his feet, but as soon as he’s found a moment of balance he loses it again, tumbling into the wall and holding himself there on shaking arms and legs. He swallows thickly and turns towards the windows, yanking on the bars with his good hand. The other one is swaddled so thickly in bandages he can barely feel it, but at least his fingers stick out to let him speak most words.

That being said, he has about four good yanks on those bars before his head is swimming. He slumps against the wall, clinging to the metal. His whole body aches.

“Maybe you have a point,” he admits sullenly, rubbing at his face.

Anonymous asked: Haha, sorry Jay, not trying to be boring! I just want to make sure you've got a second voice to help think clearly. Look around you maybe? See any spare haldol or fever medication you can swipe and save up for when you do the grand escape?

“Thank you,” says JJ, grinning slowly, though nothing quite makes it to his eyes. “Okay, let me look. I think I must have something in me now because my psychosis is a lot less intense right now.”

He glances around the room. He isn’t hallucinating and his thinking is much clearer, but his expressions are still dulled, his face is twitching, and he isn’t sure what’s true and what’s not. He needs rest and a lot less stress.

He checks the drawers, but everything’s locked up.

nikkilbook asked: JJ, remind me again why Dark frightens you so much? I’m sorry, but I can’t remember clearly. He doesn’t remember any of you either. He showed up that first time because he didn’t know why Anti was trespassing in his territory.

Dapper looks over at you.

He turns away for a second, chewing on his nail. Shrugs. Sits down on the bed.

“Not a fun time,” he signs eventually.

scunneredzombie asked: Rest up, if you can, JJ! I'm almost completely certain you'll be safe here. Darkness won't hurt you because they want you healthy enough to talk to them. You need rest and to let your haldol take effect.

“Dark can do a lot worse things than hurting anybody,” he answers. “It’s the talking to them that’s more likely to fuck me up than anything. And I never want to see them again. Tell them to leave me alone! Where’s my big brothers? Are they coming to get me yet?”

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling, JJ? Still burning up?

“I actually feel quite cold.” He hugs his arms around his sunken chest, staring around the room. His lips are chapped to blood and his face is the color of bleach. He doesn’t look well.

“This is miserable,” he admits, his signs soft. “I remember when I was created I always had energy and felt strong and healthy most of the time, even when I got hurt. I bounced back. The last few months, I’m just… every day I’m sicker. My bones break and I catch every cold and infection. Keep have psychotic episodes. Don’t sleep well.”

He realizes he’s just complaining and makes himself stop, digging his nails into his palms. Won’t help anything. He needs to get out.

He creeps to the door and takes the handle in his hand.

“Going somewhere?”

He turns, spitting, back to his bed, the hair on the back of his neck standing up like an angry cat’s as he snatches a pen off the nearest counter for self-defense.

Wilford nods patiently, following his movements as he swings his legs on the side of the little clinic bed. “Very good, very good.”

“You stay away from me.”

“Oh, my dear, forgive me, I don’t understand a word of that. Shall I get you paper?”

Dapper steps away from him, watching him with glittering eyes. After a moment, he nods.

Wilford pulls a pad of paper out from behind his back as though it had been there all along and sets it on the bed beside himself, smiling.

“What are you so frightened of, young man? Come on, then, calm down.”

Anonymous asked: Are you wearing your dress-shoes? The heel might be good for smashing the locks off the drawers! Though you'd have to be uh... as quiet as smashing can be haha.

JJ looks down at his bare feet. He scowls. Just like the day he was created.

But Wilford has boots on. “Give me those,” he demands.

Wilford doesn’t speak sign language, but he gets the gesture. “Sure,” he says, tugging a boot off and tossing it to him.

Dapper slams a desk drawer handle remorselessly. A loud clang signals the death of the handle as it flies to the ground. Dapper yanks the drawer open.

“Ippy says you’re all sorts of unhealthy,” says Wilford cheerfully, still kicking his legs, halfway bootless now. “Do you feel better today? He said you have so little Vitamin D he could probably break your bones with a pillowcase. You need some sun, dear boy!”

Dapper searches through the drawer, but there’s nothing but cotton swabs, gloves, tongue depressors and everything boring. He raises the boot and smashes another dresser handle, a little breathless.

scunneredzombie asked: Anti is trying to find you right now, I'm pretty sure. I understand not wanting to see them, they're frankly a terrifying jedi-powers 3D glasses fender-bender in you all's life. You'll be home soon, JJ. But you need rest right now, you could end up hurting yourself if you're in a bad mindset or not with the proper medication. I know being careful is no fun, but right now it seems like the best option. I know this sounds fucked, but trust Anti to find you. Like he'd give you up that easily, ha,,

“You don’t want to see Dark?” asks Wilford, finally sounding genuinely wounded. “Oh…”

“You stop,” signs JJ fiercely, whirling on him. “You’re lucky you’re out of your mind or I’d call you a creep for staying around that horrible - that horrible - thing. Whatever. Leave me alone. You’re a killer just like them.”

“I think your camera’s right. You ought to sit. You don’t look very well.”

Dapper glares, panting a little. He glances around the room again, a sense of despair shuddering its way over him. Always locked in his room. Always locked in his room. Always locked in his room. He grips at his hair, breathing through his teeth.

“Hey,” says Wilford. “It’s okay. Can you hear me at all? Do I need to be writing things down too? My handwriting is very good. Would you like some water?”

He clears his dry throat, his eyes flickering over to Wilford. Actually, he would. He’s parched.

Wilford nods and gets up. He disappears for a second and returns with a glass of water. JJ takes it from him with shaking hands, sinking down onto the bed.

Anonymous asked: Hey Wilford, you're not... planning on hurting JJ, are you? You don't seems like you have any intention of it but knowing you we can never be too wary >_>

“Excuse me!” Wilford waggles his finger indignantly, making a noise like pshaw! again and again. “I have never hurt a living soul in my life. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m a pacifist, actually. Excepting that door-to-door salesman who would NOT stop coming by…”

Dapper hisses out a breath, pressing at his forehead, feeling faint again. He scoops up Wilford’s pad of paper and sets Ippy’s pen to it. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” he scrawls out in a bitter, looping cursive.

“Do you?” spits back Wilford just as quick, a little fire flashing through his eyes.

Dapper sinks in on himself, exhaling. “No,” he writes. “Not ever.”

Wilford eases again, grinning his nonchalant, slightly dazed grin.

“Why’d you come in here?” writes Dapper.

“To see you,” answers Wilford eagerly, clapping his hands together. “Finally, a new ego with a real aesthetic!”

“I’m not a new ego, Wil. Look, I don’t look like you.”

“No, you’re not like me - well, like him,” insists Wilford, undaunted. “You’re one of the boys that runs around with him sometimes. He can create things too, that’s alright. You can still stay here.”

Dapper softens a little, quirking his eyebrows. “You’ve met Jack?”

“Seen him! They made a lot of videos together for a while, do you remember? Every day!”

JJ laughs, shaking his head. “You’re thinking of Ethan.”

“No, who? Noooo. The brown-haired one. Loud? Bouncy?”

“They’re both - ” JJ cuts himself off, laughing into his hands. “Never mind.”

“I don’t have my glasses on.”

“Apparently.”

Anonymous asked: Hey JJ, did you and Wil knew each other before the whole timeline mess?

“No, not really,” JJ signs to you gently. “I’ve never really had anyone outside of Anti.”

“Are you mute?” asks Wilford politely. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

“I’ve never been able to talk,” he writes out. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t be able to stay for long.”

“Oh,” says Wilford, face falling. “Oh, I thought that was why you came.”

“You took me from my house. Do you remember?”

“No… you’re thinking of one of the others, I think?”

Dapper lets out a sigh and smiles. “Never mind. Just - ”

It’s then that Edward enters the room.

Dapper stiffens, rubbing his shoulders and staring down at the floor. Ippy looks relieved, stepping carefully into the room, as though approaching an animal caught in a fence.

“Hi,” he breathes. “Feeling any better?”

JJ looks away, uncomfortable.

Anonymous asked: Hey Dap? I just wanted to let you know that it's ok to be experiencing symptoms right now. You're under so, so much stress, your body must be having hell and two pence. It's ok if you feel apathy, have a hard time with facial expression, hallucinating. You will be okay. You will get out soon, and you will have time to de-stress, you will see your brothers again soon. Know even through the fear, everything will be okay. You were made for happy endings.

“Do you have symptoms like these often?” asks Ippy.

Dapper plays with the edge of his paper, unsmiling.

“Your, uh… friends? Said you had a psychotic disorder. When was the last time you saw a clinician about that? Seems like you’ve been on Haldol a pretty long time.”

Dapper draws circles on his pad, not looking up.

Ippy sits down in one of those backless chairs that doctors roll around their offices in. “Are you aware that you have a Vitamin D deficiency? Serious enough to be impacting your bone strength?”

Dapper glances at Wilford but doesn’t answer.

“Broken rib… infected wrist… some pretty serious scarring…”

Dapper leans down to write something. Ippy waits patiently. Dapper turns the paper around and he’s written “stop talking to me” across the whole page. Ippy rolls his chair away and lets out a grumble beneath his breath, getting up to -

“Hey! Who broke my drawers!”

Wilford and JJ exchange glances.

“Probably the dog,” answers Wilford wisely, and it almost, almost makes JJ smile.

It’s okay. He’s okay. It’s okay for him to be psychotic. He’s just got to get through it, like he always does. It’s okay to struggle.

Anonymous asked: Hey now! Let the doctor take care of you, bud. You deserve some proper medical attention, you deserve some healing after everything you've been through.

“That’s not my doctor,” signs JJ bitterly, glaring Ippy down as best he can, though he mostly ends up looking like he’s squinting. “Give me back to my brother.”

“Five questions,” asks Ippy. “Yeah? Then I’ll give you some space.”

“One question.” He holds up a finger.

Ippy holds up three.

Dapper turns his head away. Tries to glare again. Nods. Fine.

“When was the last time you saw a psychiatrist?”

He’s never seen a psychiatrist. That’s why they mostly just call it a psychotic disorder. Schneep says it’s probably schizophrenia, but he’s a surgeon. Until Anti stole Dok, he would just tell Dapper that Jack fucked his head up as bad as his voice.

“I don’t have a psychiatrist,” says Dapper. “The Haldol is fine. It manages most everything.”

“Most of the positive symptoms, I bet,” says Ippy. “And even if antipsychotics are helpful, they still need to be adjusted sometimes, and you should probably be seeing a therapist for behavioral therapy.”

“What’s positive about psychosis?” asks Wilford. “Is that like the fun kind of psychosis? A little LSD, anybody?”

“Wilford,” sighs Ippy. “Positive means something added. So things like hallucinations, delusions, hyperactivity, disordered thinking - those are positive symptoms. Most antipsychotics work best for those. But there are negative symptoms too - depressed mood. Flattened expressions. Lack of enjoyment or pleasure. Feelings of hopelessness.”

Dapper stares at the floor. After a moment, he writes “question two” pointedly.

“Why do you look like Mark’s friend?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is. Don’t waste either of our time.”

“Dark says Jack doesn’t have videos with you or any of the others.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, grumbles Ippy, rubbing at his forehead. “Forget it. Who gave you all your scars?”

Dapper’s eyes flicker. He glances away. “Self-harm,” he writes.

“Liar,” answers Ippy evenly. “They go all the way to your back.”

Dapper hisses, tucking his pad up against his chest for a second. He lets out a breath of air, shaking his head.

Anonymous asked: His ribs are broken because his "big brother" nearly beat him to death then left him sitting in filth for hours until he passed out. He's deficient in vitamin D because he spends his entire life locked inside one room and that same brother almost never lets him out. He's scarred from year of torture and abuse. Let's just say he doesn't have the easiest home life.

Ippy sits back, setting his clipboard aside.

Dapper closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t feel well.

“Please just leave me alone,” he writes. “There. You got your answer. My brother did all of it. Go away.”

Ippy gets up. He takes Dapper’s bear off the bedside table and hands it carefully over to him. Dapper swallows and accepts it, pulling the familiar warmth and texture and smell to his chest. It’s grounding.

“Want to come sit in the sun for a while?” asks Ippy.

Dapper looks up at him, eyes wide. Ippy waits.

Dapper sighs and shakes his head, curling up against the wall. Even if he wanted to accept anybody’s niceness right now, he’s too tired.

“Okay,” says Ippy. “You don’t have to. But you should know - now that you’re awake and talking - ”

“No,” Dapper is already writing, the pen shaking in his grip.

“They just want to talk. That’s all. They won’t - ”

“Tell Dark to stay away from me,” writes Dapper frantically, tears budding in his eyes. He underlines it. Again and again.

Tell

Dark

To

Stay

Away

Ippy gets to his feet wearily. He unlocks one of his drawers and sets a Haldol and a Vitamin D tablet out on the dresser beside Dapper.

“Get a little sleep,” he says. “You’ll feel better.”

“I want Dok,” writes Dapper. “Please.”

Ippy is already shutting the door behind him.

nikkilbook asked: Edward, do you have any contacts in the city that work with homeless shelters or other kinds of emergency housing? I think that’s where three of his brothers are.

Edward’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? Sure, there’s some shelters. I usually refer them to LAAG. Sets you up in a hotel for a month or two if you’re out of somewhere to stay. Mostly for moms with kids, though. There’s some men’s and women’s shelters in town. Lot of homeless people out here, unfortunately. Hey, Gigi.”

“What?”

“What’s the closest homeless shelter?”

“Are they finally kicking you out of that pigsty you call an apartment? The closest homeless shelter is Missionaries of Charity Relief Services, 23.6 miles away. There is an adjoining soup kitchen.”

“There you go.”

nikkilbook asked: Could you send someone (non/less threatening, if possible?) to ask after them, see if they’d be willing to come and help you with JJ? Though one of them, Marvin, is hurt really bad as well because of some messed up dark magic crap that Anti thought was a good idea. Schneep, the doctor that JJ keeps referring to, is doing his best, but he’s technically a surgeon with holes in his memory.

“Excuse me,” Google cuts you both off, stepping forward. “You have to run decisions like that past Dark.”

“Then ask Dark,” answers Ippy mildly. “I’m sure they’d love to worm their way into somebody else’s heart. They wanted that other kid that was there, right? Bet they’d be happy with you if you brought the other three back to them.”

“You think you’re very clever.”

“But I got you thinking about it, didn’t I?”

Google glares at him.

Then his composure breaks, just the smallest bit, and you see a smile on the edges of his mouth. Ippy laughs and trails past him towards the kitchen. “Come on, you goddamn sycophant. It’s curry night. You can help me make it.”

“I’m not your maid,” says Gigi stubbornly.

But he follows right after him into the kitchen.

Anonymous asked: Does seeing outsiders reaction help you realize it JJ? How horrible Anti really is to you? You're dying, Dapper. You might be dead if you hadn't gotten medical treatment. You have all the scars because of his actions. All of your pain was caused by him. You have a psychotic disorder and he's never /once/ taken you to a psychiatrist. If he was your brother, if he loved you beyond being his pet, he would have at least taken you to therapy. Can you see the damage he's done, Dap?

“Save the realization tactics for my brothers, my friend,” JJ signs quietly. “I’ve always known exactly what Anti is. I used to stay because I was scared of what he’d do to me if I tried to get away. Now I just know there’s no escaping. Not for me.”

And that is when the light from the sun flickers and dies.

Dapper closes his eyes. He knows. Right away, without pausing.

“Dark,” you see his mouth move.

“Feeling… hopeless?” asks a voice that echoes. “I can help with that.”

“No,” says Dapper. “No, you can’t.”

And he gets to his shaking feet.

Anonymous asked: They made a deal JJ. This is the last time. If you don't allow yourself to escape, allow yourself freedom and family, true family, love... Then I fear you'll be stuck with him forever. Let yourself escape. Let Jameson Jackson live. Let your soul breathe again.

JJ holds the camera close to his chest, sinking down beside his bed as his legs give out on him. It makes Dark tower over him. He closes his eyes.

Family, true family - what he wouldn’t give for them to be here right now. And it’s odd to him because most often, when he wishes for family, he wishes Anti were here to protect him.

Today, he doesn’t wish for Anti at all. Even if Anti would protect him from Dark, it doesn’t matter. He wants… fuck, he just wants Red and Blue and Dok and even Trick, because every one of them, he has begun to realize, would take care of him if they ever had the chance to. Blue would be shouting at Dark to back off, Red would already be on the attack, Dok would be making him feel better, and Trick, he thinks, would just be wrapped around him, holding him, just like he did when Gigi and Shep came to take him away.

Maybe he wasn’t stuck up in the attic or in the backroom or in Anti’s bed because everyone else hated him or didn’t want him around. Maybe it was always just Anti’s barriers.

“How interesting the pair of you are,” Dark says, looking down at JJ with your viewpoint in his hands. “To know him intimately… to speak with him. Even when I talk to you, it’s always me on the one side of the camera, and you never able to answer… Mark sees to that. How interesting, though, to be the ones to tell him he’s loved.”

Dapper takes the writing pad in his trembling hands. “What do you want?” he writes.

Dark leans down, too close to him. “I told you. Let’s talk. I want to know everything about that monster you live with - and just how I can get rid of him.”

Dapper creeps along the wall away from Dark, shaking his head minutely. He and Anti have their struggles, but he doesn’t sell his brother out, and especially not to Dark.

“Come on, little one. What are you so scared of? My soldiers have all seen the markings all up and down you. Wouldn’t you rather let me extract a little vengeance for you?”

“Not little,” writes Dapper. “What do you want with Anti? Why kill him?”

Dark cocks their head coolly, eyes flashing red and blue.

“If you don’t remember him, there’s no reason to be angry.”

Dark doesn’t answer. Dark never answers if they don’t have to. They don’t give up information, period.

“I hope you know I hate your guts,” says JJ.

And then Dark’s hand is on his throat.

JJ wheezes in alarm, grabbing Dark’s arm as the room seems to flood with a darkness so thick it seems to shove at his bones like a fist or a car collision. He kicks his legs desperately and, for a moment, manages a shrill whistle of alarm - and then Dark makes him still.

The calm is like an infusion of something, settling into his lungs and chest and softening his violent terror into a whimpering fear. Dark drags him back to his bed and throws him onto the mattress. And Dapper, shaking and petrified with a weepy, muted alarm, curls his body into a roly-poly and hugs his bear to his chest, staring up at Dark with huge, watering eyes, because the times when he acts childish and too cute to hurt have never been anything more than a fear response.

“There you go,” says Dark, sitting down in the chair beside the bed and leaning back, their eyes closing for a moment from the strain it puts on their spine. Anti’s attack has left them physically shaken and weak, the pain haunting them through waking and dreams. For that, they will have revenge - and for the way that the thought of Anti has haunted them for more than a week now. “Be good now and tell me how you know me.”

“My brother brought me to you some years back to reset me even better than he can alone,” writes Dapper shakily. “He manipulates thoughts and he can possess people. You manipulate souls and emotions. I woke up a different person. Since then I feel like I have a different personality every day. You and Anti took who I was from me.”

Dark shakes their head faintly, squinting for a moment. They glance at Dapper, at his eyes, at his chest. They don’t say anything.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore,” writes Dapper.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” says Dark gently, and they try to make it feel, in Dapper’s heart, that this is true, but all he does is close his eyes and hide.

Anonymous asked: hey, jamie, dapper, my dear. i know you've been hurt by dark before, and i'm not saying you have to forgive them, or trust them, or anything. but can you try to trust us, when we tell you that you are safe? i wouldn't say that lightly, dap. but right now, you are safe. deep breaths. we're here to help you.

“There, that’s right,” agrees Dark quietly. “Don’t be scared.”

Dapper shudders under another wave of their power. Affection and faith well up in his chest, and this feeling, at least, has an anchor of truth in his head, a foundation it can stand on. Yes, he remembers the days when you have kept him company, the days when you have warned him of danger or convinced Anti to leave him alone. He remembers Trick and Dok taking him for fish and chips, presents you picked out for him, and the beeping of the camera on so many of the nights in the past seven months where he would have been completely alone without you.

He sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“If I met you and your brother,” says Dark. “Why don’t I remember?”

“You are a creature manipulated by the stories your creator tells,” writes Dapper slowly.

“Mark did this?”

“No. Another storyteller. My creator gave me his power of manipulating stories. Last year I changed things without meaning to. There are inconsistencies now - people who remember things that never happened in this timeline, and people who have forgotten things that happened to them in another life. And then there are things like you, somewhere in the middle - torn between memory and loss.”

Dark’s eyes narrow, smoke curling off their shoulders.

“I know you don’t remember Anti,” writes Dapper. “But at the same time, you do.”

“Enough,” says Dark. “Quiet. Let me think.”

Deep black eyes pierce into JJ like a scalpel. He stares up at the light, trying to breathe.

“The truth is you know nothing of what’s happening around you,” Dark murmurs.“You’re delusional and ill. You remember things that haven’t happened because you have a disorder.”

“No,” signs JJ, shaking his head. “No.”

He does have delusions sometimes, very intense ones. But he won’t let Dark tell him that he doesn’t know his own power - the piece of himself that Jack gave him.

“Look at you.” Dark shakes their head, eyes glittering, and smoke curls around them like creeping cats wandering through the air. “The moment you’re away from him, you crash, is that it?”

Dapper closes his eyes, turned up to the lights.

Dark hums and gets to their feet, drawing out wine and glasses as though from the shadows themselves. They pour two cups of rich, black wine and press a cool cup into his hands. Dapper’s fingers wrap around the glass slowly, his eyes blank.

“Why did you become psychotic the moment you were away from him?”

His gaze flickers up to Dark’s. He doesn’t answer.

“Of course,” mutters Dark, backing away and sitting down in their chair. “You live with a mind manipulator. I bet he makes the voices quiet, doesn’t he?”

Dapper’s mouth parts, a gleam of something hard appearing for moment in his eyes before shifting away again, leaving him tired and only vaguely annoyed.

“Admit it,” says Dark. “You rely on him. Don’t you? You wouldn’t last on your own, not without him. The medication manages some of it and he manages the rest. When he’s away, you can barely survive. You need him – desperately.”

You can hear Dapper breathing now. His eyes are fixed on the light above. He holds his wine too tightly in his fingers.

“And he tells you so,” adds Dark slowly, staring at Dapper’s face. They tilt back their wine and they drink. “Doesn’t he? Constantly, I would guess. You and him both know that you need him – and he loves it.”

Dapper doesn’t have anything to say to them. He wants to be far away. He hates them.

“It must be difficult to be both – ”

“Don’t even fucking start with me, jackass, as if you know anything about what it’s like to be mute and psychotic and abused by the person I love most in the world, as if you’re not the one who fucking triggered my schizophrenia, as if you know anything about my life or what I’ve done to – ”

“Calm down,” says Dark gently, and Dapper feels a rush of unnatural calm flood over him. For a second of raw terror, he is completely aware that he’s being forced to feel something he doesn’t really feel, and then, the next moment, he is slumped back in his chair, letting out a low sigh of relief.

“I can’t understand sign language, so you’ll have to write for me,” says Dark. “We can have a calm conversation if you stay level-headed instead of getting so out of control. I’ll forgive you because of your fever.”

Dapper reaches dazedly for the writing pad, trying to keep his thoughts straight. This is happening again. He’s losing himself again.

“You talk about my brother controlling me and then shove your way into my chest yourself,” he manages, his handwriting scrawling and small. “Just tell me what you want from me or let me go home.”

Dark drinks from their glass again, never breaking eye contact.“What do you think I want?”

“I think,” Dapper scrawls. “That you don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.”

It is Dark’s turn for their eyes to gain a hardness. Something glitters in black irises.

“And you hate that, don’t you, Darkness? More than anything. More than anything.”

Dark does not answer.

“You want to know how to kill Anti because you remember him,” writes Dapper. “The fragments of the memory of him haunts you because you hate not knowing and you hate being confused, and the thought that I somehow changed your story is second in bitterness only to the knowledge that Mark has already told it for you. Of course you don’t want to admit you don’t remember. It means someone else changed you without your permission. Your greatest fear.”

“Watch your words,” warns Dark.

“Anti hated you at first. We would agree that you were a creep, a control freak, an asshole. But you were insistent. How pretty he was, you would say, and how you had finally found someone who matched you in ferocity. After a while, it started to flatter him. He decided he was some sort of exception to you. You would be terrible to everyone else but good to him. He loved that. The thought of being special to someone. His abandonment issues made him look past everything horrible about you.”

“You’re making this up.”

“You taught him to dance,” writes Dapper, his words coming faster and faster beneath his scrawling hands. “Do you remember? Your hands on his waist as he finally trusted you enough to put his head on your shoulder. You would bring him flowers, roses he pretended he didn’t want and then put in a vase by his bed, purring to me about how wrapped around his finger you were. You would go hunting together and let him have the kill because you loved to see him lose his mind with the power and the fun of it all. His sadism was wild any time he was with you. He would come home and hurt me on accident - mostly - because he was so violent and worked up he couldn’t control his energy and his excitement. Do you remember?”

Dark’s eyes are raised to JJ’s now, staring at him, their mouth faintly parted.

“Have you been dreaming, Dark?” asks Dapper. “Killing him won’t make it stop. Speak with him. I don’t think the two of you know what love is, but you loved the time you spent together.”

“You’re sentimental as well as delusional,” answers Dark, tilting back their wine.

“I would listen to me if I were you,” writes Dapper. “Because at this point, Dark, there are outcomes - you cool his fury, or he will kill you.”

Red and blue in Dark’s eyes. Bone through their rotting fingers.

“My brother has taken on power he should never have stolen,” says Dapper. “You can’t beat him with Blue’s power combined with his own. Calm Anti down, Dark - or he will burn down everything you love.”

Dark blinks, revealing, if only for a moment, an unsettled look on their face.

Outside the window, the others are laughing and talking. Dark catches a glance of Wilford’s bubblegum hair and the movement of the enormous dog you spotted earlier. Host’s voice murmurs down to them through the ceiling and someone is cooking in the kitchen, making the house fragrant with garlic and spices.

“Please leave me alone now,” says Dapper.

“One last thing. Is it true that you can time travel?”

“Yes,” Dapper answers. “I know you can feel the power in my chest.”

“I could take it,” says Dark. “If I wanted to. Your power is a part of your soul and that, my darling, is my specialty.”

Dapper flips a page on his pad and writes across the full page:

“It would burn you alive.”

A flicker of a small on Dark’s coy mouth.

“Yes,” they say. “I suppose it would. I’m not as stupid as your brother.”

“Whatever you say,” writes Dapper dryly.

Dark gets to their feet, draining the last of their wine.

“Can I go?” writes Dapper desperately.

“Hm? Oh, no. We’re not finished, doll. Hey.”

Dark reaches out to cluck his chin, but Dapper jerks back, terrified. Dark laughs and takes their hand back, leaving Dapper with a sudden and painfully intense feeling of exhaustion. He crumples against the bed, his eyes flickering shut.

“Get some sleep,” murmurs Dark, turning their back and beginning to disappear back into the shadows. “Hostages are no good to me dead.”

Dapper fades into darkness.

.

Blue wakes up to a hand on his shoulder. “Mh? What is it?”

He hears his twin chuckle softly above him. “You make cat noises when you’re waking up.”

“Mmmhhhh,” protests Blue sleepily, cuddling down deeper into his blankets.

“You can go back to sleep,” Red whispers. “I just wanted you to know I’m heading back to the house for a couple days. Stay here with Dok and I’ll - ”

Blue is awake. He almost flinches out of the sheets, sitting up fast and grabbing Red’s sleeve. “Wait, no. I’m coming with.”

“No, Blue, you need to stay here and rest.”

“I’m feeling much better,” replies Blue, his tone brooking no argument. “And I am NOT going to be miles and miles away while you go back to an Anti who’s no doubt furious. I need to see the others too. I have to make sure they’re okay. That’s my job.”

“I’m coming too,” answers a quiet voice from the doorway - Dok slipping into the room with three cups of hospital coffee.

“Guys, no,” protests Red. “Please. I’d rather you be here. Dok, Anti threatened to kill you.”

Dok shrugs, placing coffee down on the bedside table. He plucks at his necklaces. “We might need these,” he says, picking at each raven talisman in turn. “And I… I need to see Trick.”

“We’re both going, Red,” Blue insists, touching his arm and squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here.”

Red smiles weakly at the both of them. “Just… promise me you won’t try anything stupid, okay?”

“Promise,” says Blue.

“I never do,” answers Dok dryly.

The twins laugh quietly at his answer. It does not, however, hide the fear that trembles in Dok’s fingertips and rattles the insides of his chest.

He can do this. He can. He has to.

immabethehero asked: Good luck dudes!

“Thanks,” says Ro, looking up at the house. “Yeah, thanks, we appreciate it.”

Blue and Dok are behind him. He can hear them whispering to each other, but he doesn’t want to interfere. Blue is wrapped around Dok like a vice, rubbing his back as he tries to reassure him, and Dok clings to his necklaces and his sibling and hides.

“Is, um.” Ro stares at the windows and door. “Is Anti really angry? Is he in there right now? I don’t really know what to expect…”

Anonymous asked: uh, trick? i believe noodle has decided to go exploring. outside. i'm going to tell the others, so they can look for noodle too, but i thought you should know.

“Noodle?”

You find Trick kneeling by the door, scratching at the carpet and trying to catch his cat’s attention. Yesterday, he waited patiently for Noodle to come back. Today, four days after Dapper was taken, Trick has only seen Noodle twice, and the light in his eyes has become desperate and frantic.

“Baby!” he hollers, sticking the last piece of jerky under the door. “Come here, sweetie! Daddy’s upstairs. Where are you? No, no, no, he can’t have gone outside. Noodle, come here! He’s never been outside in his life. He’s always been with me. Noodle!”

He wipes at hot tears on his face, back shaking from how long he’s been crouched there. Anti has let him out of the room a couple times, but he’s been with him the whole time, so all he’s done is make himself dinner a couple times or watch a movie with Anti.

He wants things to go back to normal.

“Noodle! Please come here! You’re scaring me!”

Anonymous asked: Dok, what if you feigned that you were "taking off" your necklaces, but quickly clasped the animal one around Anti, then got him weak as you could and used the light? Or perhaps told him the only way to stop their power was for him to wear them, then put the animal one around his neck? Do you think a plan like that would work?

“Yeah, if I can manage that I would like to do this,” says Dok frailly, gripping Blue’s hand so hard it’s beginning to bruise. “Might not be able to trick him, but could maybe act fast and hurt him.”

“Remind me what all of these do,” murmurs Blue, touching his brother’s collarbone.

“This one is light, this one is transformation, and this one keeps Anti out of my head,” Dok whispers. “They said I should give the light one to a warrior.”

Blue glances at Red, pacing his way towards the house. He wants to be the first one inside, to bear the brunt of Anti’s fury. Blue pulls Dok after him, trying to think.

Anonymous asked: Trick has been alone for such a long time, and Anti has been locking him all alone in one room most of the days, he really needs you Dok, needs you to help him fight. As for Anti, he's been in and out of the place, we're not sure what he's doing.

“Anti locked Trick in his room?” asks Red.

“Let’s go,” says Dok, pulling away from Blue and hurrying towards the house.

“Dok! You don’t know if Anti’s in there!”

“He’s already seen us on the cameras from this close,” answers Dok, yanking open the door to the house and moving inside. “If he wants to come after us, he will. There’s nothing we can do about that. Right now, I just want to see Trick. Where is he?”

He runs down into the basement where they’ve been staying, but Trick isn’t there - and neither is Noodle. Dok returns to the ground floor, where Blue and Red are looking through their own room. Blue shuts the window that’s been open for days, making the room hot and airy.

“Where’s kitty?” asks Blue.

“I’m sure he’s just with Trick,” answers Dok. “Right?”

Anonymous asked: Trick is locked up in Anti's bedroom, and Noodle is missing, he escaped outside. Trick's been alone with no one but Anti for this whole time.

Blue and Red exchange wide-eyed looks, Red already pacing towards the door to look around for the cat. Dok races upstairs, feeling more awake than he has in weeks.

“Trick!” he knocks rapidly on the door and shuffling sounds greet him from the other side.

“Anti?”

“Trick, it’s me,” Dok calls.

“Dok!”

The way he calls his name is almost a sob. Dok scrambles with the lock on the door, turning the stiff lock to the right. Trick shoves the door open and meets his eyes.

“Are you okay?” croaks Dok.

“Fine,” whispers Trick, though his hair is limp and dry and his eyes hollowed out. “Are you?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Listen, Trick, I just - ”

Trick crashes into him and hugs him to his chest. They fall back against the wall, pinned together, skulls pressed together and arms wrapped around each other’s ribs.

“You don’t have to explain,” says Trick. “I should have protected you better, so you didn’t have to run away. I’ll be better for you, Dok. I’ll take better care of you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have been someone you could trust.”

“Trick…”

They wrap tighter around each other, rocking each other’s bodies against the wall, safe in each other’s grips.

Anonymous asked: He's here.

Blue is hugging Trick and Dok to himself, babbling at them about how he loves them, about how he missed him, about how happy he is to see him. Trick is relieved to feel less alone for the first time in days. He tells Blue he looks better and that he loves him too.

It’s Red who sees Anti.

He’s leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at him with cold blue eyes.

Red swallows. Anti doesn’t say anything.

He signs “come here.”

And then he walks away.

Red feels a shudder down his whole body. He glances back at his brothers, celebrating the mini-reunion together, talking about everything that’s happened.

He doesn’t see Dapper. Anti must have him with him.

Red needs to see him.

He swallows once again, clearing his throat this time. He won’t be afraid. He can’t let himself get lost in Anti’s lies again. He sees what he is more clearly than he has in years and now - now he has to protect his brothers from the monsters in the middle of them.

He moves down the stairs after Anti.

Anonymous asked: Uh guys, look out, the big-bad wolf is here

“Big bad wolf…”

Anti turns back to Ro for a moment in the middle of the hall, his eyes burning red.

“That’s me, then, right, Jackie?”

Ro’s blood seems to frost over in his veins. He stops short in the hallway, mouth parted.

Anti narrows his eyes and turns away, leading Ro further down the hall. Red can barely bring himself to follow, but his nerves are tempered by his confusion.

Anti has never called him Jackie before.

“Where’s Dap?” he asks quietly, stepping after Anti.

Anti doesn’t answer. He steps into the office room where you once found Dapper drinking and waits.

Red steps in after him, chewing on his lip.

Anti closes the door behind him and sits down at the desk, propping his feet on the table. He glares at Ro, flipping a knife in his hands.

“You got a deathwish or something,” says Anti.

“No,” Ro manages. “No.”

“Tell me why you went,” Anti snaps.

“You were threatening Dok. Blue was sick. I got scared.”

Anti stares at him, eyes burning with flame.

Anonymous asked: Anti Blue was dying and you were threatening Dok. Don't punish Red for being their protector, that's literally what you make him be. Thanks to his action, neither of them are dead. You have him to thank for the time away you got to think about your temper.

Anti takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. “Was that all it was?”

“Yes,” says Ro quietly. “I just didn’t want them to get hurt. Anti, you can’t threaten to murder Dok and expect me to - ”

“I can do what I want,” snaps Anti. “What’s your name?”

“What?”

“What’s your fucking name?”

Ro licks his mouth anxiously, glancing around for a second. He wishes Blue were here.

“It’s Red, Anti.”

Anti sighs, shaking his head at him. His posture relaxes slightly, letting his head thump back against the office chair.

Anonymous asked: Dapper isn't with him because Dark's soldiers stole him away. It seems like Anti can't find him.

“What?” asks Ro, incredulous. “Wait, you mean you actually let that monster get their hands on him?”

“You weren’t here!” shouts Anti, glitching to his feet and making Red stumble back. “You were the one I chose to protect them, Red, but you ran away without him or Trick like they meant nothing to you!”

“I thought you would keep them safe!” cries Red.

“I would have been able to if you had been here and I had known about Dark!” Anti snarls back, slamming his hand into the office table, a slight tremor in his palms. “But you and them both turned your backs on me! I can’t trust anyone but myself!”

“You were going to hurt Dok!”

Anti’s palm connects with Red’s face, sending him staggering back. He feels blood rush to the handprint on his cheek and he grips at his face weakly, looking up at Anti with watery eyes.

“You would have been useless if you were here anyway,” growls Anti. “You’re terrified of Dark. Fucking coward boy. And to think, Jack called you a hero.”

Hurt and fury light up in Ro’s chest. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, straightening his back again and clutching his hands into fists.

“I found Dark today,” says Anti coldly, turning away. “We can get Dapper back. If you help me, maybe I won’t fucking slaughter you for running away like the little bitch you are.”

“I’m not a little bitch,” says Red. “You… you’ve never liked me.”

“Correct,” answers Anti.

Anonymous asked: Jackie's throwing caution to the wind, you're willing to throw everyone's lives to the wind. Even moreso now that this is the last run-through, right?

“If you turn on me like that again,” says Anti. “I’ll kill you like I promised you I would.”

“You expect my loyalty,” says Ro. “But you don’t even like me. You threaten us and hurt us. How do you expect me to stay?”

“You’ll stay because if you don’t I’ll end all five of you,” snarls Anti, Jack’s teeth in his mouth giving way to those of a dog. “What, you think you did a good job, running away from me? Think you saved them from anything? I know you were staying in Ashley Valley Hospital Room 412.”

Ro’s blood is cold.

“I know the fake names you used, I know the food pantry where Dok was getting you food everyday, I know what Blue’s doctors said, I know, I know, I know. You can’t get away from me, Red. You never will. All the more because you’re a spineless, needy moron who can’t think of anything but a man who doesn’t love him anymore and whatever bullshit your mind fixates on on any given day. You’re broken, Red. Same way Jack made Chase and JJ broken. Even when you were Jackie, you were still pathetic.”

“Wonder why Marvin and I were able to beat you to hell, then,” says Ro.

It’s a mistake as soon as he’s said it. It’s a mistake. It was a bad choice. He shouldn’t have said it.

But he doesn’t regret it.

Anti takes a step back towards him, his eyes narrowed like a cat’s.

Jackie takes a step towards him too, fists clenched.

“When I said that you made me forget important things in the past,” he says. “I meant that you made me forget people I loved and the places I come from. But there are other things you made me forget too, Anti. You’re not as untouchable as you’ve always told me you were. And you know what else?”

Anti’s eyes are pupil-less, iris-less, white.

“I think you’re still afraid of me,” he says. “I think that every time you flinch back from a bird at the window, you are flinching away from the memory of just how bad I hurt you the first time you stole my baby brother.”

Anonymous asked: Stand strong, Jackieboy man. You've got a war to fight.

Stand strong. He straightens his back. The others need him.

“Come on, then,” he snaps, taking another step forward. Anti takes a step back. “I can see it in you. That you want to hurt me. It’s a look I’ve gotten used to. That you want to see me begging so you feel less scared.”

“You shut your mouth, Jackie,” says Anti.

“No,” spits Ro, clenching his fists. “No, I won’t. I’m tired of you silencing me. I’m not stupid and I’m not a coward.”

Anti strikes him, harder than the first time. Red backs off, grabbing his face with a gasp. Tears water in his eyes. He straightens up again, seething.

“You’re the fucking coward, Anti,” he croaks out, something snapping in his chest. His little brother really has always hated him, no matter how hard he tried to love him. “I won’t let you tell me differently anymore.”

Anonymous asked: Hey younger brothers, you miiight want to go to the office with Red and Anti, something tells me it's about to go downhill from here, and you'd be stronger together, protecting each other.

Blue blinks and looks around, realizing only now that his twin is gone.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes.

He turns and races down the stairs, tearing towards the office.

Anonymous asked: You are not pathetic, Jackie. You are a hero, through-and-through. You've spent your every waking moment protecting them from abuse in any way you were able. "Broken" is just Anti being an ableist, abusive asshat. You are stronger than him. You always have been, no matter what he tries to convince you of. Break free of him, Jackieboy Man.

“Yeah, you know what, they’re right,” Jackie continues, lifting his chin up and glaring at Anti as bruises form on his face. “You know what I think, Anti? I think you’re so desperate to believe that our creator - that Jack - ”

“Don’t say that name!” screams Anti, slapping him again.

Red laughs. “I think you’re so desperate to believe that Jack was in the wrong that you tell yourself he did something wrong to us just because of things like me being autistic. And that’s pretty fucked up, Anti. There’s nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with Dap and Trick. Honestly? I think Jack was probably an okay guy, and you’re the one who’s always been the villain.”

“Stop it!” screams Anti, driving his fist into Red’s chest. Red steps back, but doesn’t falter. “Stop it, stop it!”

“You like to act like you’re in control and you can’t even control your temper and your fucking daddy issues!”

“Red!” shouts Anti, his eyes flashing. “Stop it! You’re just like Jack, you’re just like Dark, everybody turns on me eventually! You were always just Jack’s little soldier, his failsafe! You think I made you a guard dog? Jack used you for years to get what he wanted.”

“Jack was trying to protect us from you!”

“You don’t even remember!” Anti grabs Red by the throat and slams him into the wall, crashing his head into wood. “Who have you been talking to? You - ”

“Hey, stop, stop!” cries Blue, appearing to grab Anti’s hands, trying to tear him off his twin. Anti kicks his cane away from him and sends him crashing to the ground.

“I ought to put both of you right back in the hospital!”

“Anti, don’t hurt him!” shrieks Blue. “Dapper’s not here! You can’t fix this if it all goes wrong!”

Anti’s grip tightens for a moment on Red’s throat. Ro chokes, gripping at his fingers.

Anti drops him to the ground.

“You’re right,” he spits, turning to grab Blue by the hair, dragging him back up to a sitting position. “So I’ll deal with you two once I have my boy back.”

[ashleyinwondrland]

I rewrote the ending of PLL with A as the capital A!

So I rewrote my dream ending for Pretty Little Liars.  Its stupidly long.

After Mona went to Radley, Ezra was mad about which direction the book was going in (he was obsessed) so he became A so he could control the story and found it to be more exciting than just writing. It was like he writing everyone's lives, he was the ultimate writer. Every writer wants to think their words will influence people, Ezra got to see it first hand. And he would get to write his own ending.

He used it to track down Ali and hired Charlotte, and made her think that she was actually Uber A and was the master mind when he was really pulling the strings.

He was obsessed with Aria more than the others and wanted to be able to keep her if everyone found out which is why he was slowly trying to isolate her from her friends. If he was the only one who Aria had to turn to, then he would never lose her. The perfect romantic ending, the two against the world. Romeo and Juliet but with a honeymoon.

When she found out about the book Ezra had to take a break from being A or else they would connect the two, so he hired Shana and handed the reigns over to Charlotte for awhile and orchestrated himself getting shot (tho it wasn’t aimed well) to get back in Aria’s good graces.

During the time he gave Charlotte, her working from France at first with Shana, Jenna and others doing her bidding, Charlotte became more obsessed with the power and Ezra lost control of the game. Charlotte went off the rails, and took it too far. She was writing chapters that Ezra wasn't able to edit.

He couldn't just rip out the pages of the dollhouse, the family connection or Charlotte turning herself in. She wrote an ending to the book that didn't satisfy Ezra. Even though he was now in clear of all charges, and he could technically move on, his book, his life's work was now no better than a paper back in the bargain bin at a pharmacy.

Ezra spends the next 5 years trying to recreate the magic he had with that book. Everything he writes is meaningless compared to the story that slipped out of his hands. Every bottle he drinks he prays has the answer at the bottom. But then his prayers are answered when he hears Charlotte is being released.

He realizes now it’s time to get back in the game but first he has a loose end to tie up. A perfect way to bring the game back and get rid of the person who ruined it. He called Charlotte, under the pretense of talking about bring A back. He knew the hospital would never be able to really cure her, and she took the bait. They met at the Church where only meant to push her out of the window. But once she got to bragging about being a better A than him he lost control and strangled her before tossing her out.

Now the game was his again. Which mean he would have to call on another old helper.

He had to call on the person who else who was just as invested in the girls lives and had access he didn’t (to Radley specifically). Someone who knew everything but like him had never been implicated, which is where Wren came in. Ezra knew about Wren and him flirting and kissing Spencer. So when Ezra sat down to an unsuspecting Wren they got to talking. After buying a few rounds Ezra slipped in that these Rosewood high school girls are such teases. Wren took the bait, going on about Spencer and how she was always playing him hot and cold.

Wren joined team A and gave Ezra access to whatever Radley files he needed and helped Charlotte be able to get in an out without questions. Wren also gave Ezra access to his cabin to be used for backup A head quarters just incase Ravenswood got found.

Ezra had the perfect partner in his British friend. Wren also had his own help, Melissa, who didn’t know quite what she was involved with but she knew it would protect Spencer and Ezra having found out about her burying Bethany when Melissa accidentally confessed it to Wren used it to blackmail her into becoming the Black Widow. As far as Melissa knew, Wren was also being blackmailed because he wanted to protect her and she had no idea Ezra was behind it

Jump forward to when Ezra finally got back with Aria and everyone was happy, he knew it was time to finish the game, the last chapter. Which is why he proposed to Aria and tried to rush her into getting married.

But he had to be sure he could truly trust her, over all of her friends. That if everything came out that she would side with him, even if it meant silencing her friends. He gave her the file, and tried to get her over to team A. Watching her choose him made him fall in love with her all over again. She didn't need her friends, and now he knew if something happened to them then she wouldn't fall apart. Because she had him. And he would always have her.

During the game Mona started to feel her A addiction again. She needed to focus and win this time. Her medication was just getting in the way. She went off it and started to recall things from Radley, visitors who came to see her, who came to see Charlotte, and who came to take the game away.

She doesn’t have all the pieces together when she accuses Ezra in front of everyone of being AD, and no one believes her but finding out she is off her medication they decide to get her help and don’t think twice about her accusations. She screamed they were in danger but none of them, especially Aria would listen.

Jump forward a year and Wren goes back to hospital to take care of Mona. But Wren doesn’t have the strongest will and Mona convinces him that they need her. She started the game, they needed her to end it.

Ezra and Aria are about to get married and be all happy so Ezra surprises her with a new house, the one Toby built. He told her it was poetic, that they live and love in a house their friend's love built. It was a house meant for love. Aria is so excited but what she doesn’t realize is the under ground bunker he built, where all his AD stuff is and also would be a comfy place if say your wife finds what you have been up to and you have to keep her somewhere.

Spencer goes to the brew and finds Wren there arguing with Ezra in hushed tones (about not killing Mona, leaving such a giant loose end) she had no idea they knew each other. She confronts them and they make a stupid lie about Ezra spilling coffee on Wren.

She asks Wren what he is doing in town and he just says business and tell her he has to leave but they should catch up soon. Wren, being the flip flopper that he is, still didn't know which Hastings lady he would take down to the bunker, should the time come. But seeing as Spencer was standing in front him, gorgeous as ever, he was leaning her way. Part of the deal Wren made with Ezra when he explained about the bunker was that Wren got to also bring a “friend” down. Ezra starts to get panicky, he knew Mona was out and about. He knew that she wanted the game back but he couldn't let her ruin his ending. Aria dismisses it as pre wedding jitters.  

A day before the wedding Aria goes to the new house to take some pictures as reference for when she is furniture shopping and to sending little photos to her friends. Ezra suggested they not bring visitors by until after the wedding and they get some furniture. She goes out back to the tool shed, notices the ground is uneven and finds a secret door in the ground. She goes under and finds everything, but what she doesn’t know is Wren is already down there and he hits her over the head, then calls Ezra and tells him they have a problem.

Ezra planned to tell Aria everything about the book on their honeymoon and if she reacted badly was going to claim and accident happened where she goes missing but keep her in the bunker (he had practice making someone go missing) but now Aria was in the bunker and he couldn’t just let her out. He goes to the bunker where Aria is terrified and won’t go near him, he thinks she just needs time to cool down. He tells her that she will understand everything soon, and they will be happy. That if he trusts her as a writer then to trust the love story he has written for them.

He takes her phone and sends a text to everyone saying “we can’t deal with the wedding stress and our parents constantly arguing over useless things like table cloths, we decided to leave for our honeymoon and elope. I’m sorry and we love you all.”

He figures that will keep everyone busy for awhile while he tries to convince Aria to get on board, reminding her how she betrayed her friends for him and how their love story would go down in literary history. She already chose him over her friends more than once, what would make this any different.

In the mean time, the girls are hurt Aria left to get married without them but they understand, except for Spencer who feels like things don’t add up because she had spoken to Aria just a couple hours before and she was excited for the wedding. Spencer looked back through her texts with Aria and looked at one of the house pictures to realize she knew the house. Toby had built that house. She decided to go over to make sure that everything was alright.

The girls all disperse, Emily and Ali talking about how they need to get home to the girls and Hanna to see if she can refashion the bridesmaids dresses into something she can show to a client, though after they leave Spencer realizes Emily’s Fitbit fell off and sends her a text that she will hold onto it til they see each other again and put it in her pocket. Spencer gets to the house to see all the lights out. She goes up to the porch to peak in, but figures they must have left for their honeymoon. She turns to go only to come back to face with Wren, but before she can question him she feels something slam into the back of her head and everything goes black.

Spencer wakes up in a cell across from Aria, her phone missing and Ezra & Wren are just standing there, both looking concerned. Ezra apologizes for hitting her so hard. They explain they didn’t want things to work out like this, and once they calm down it is very comfortable and nice in the make shift home they built down in the bunker and when things were settled they could all move away to a much bigger place so the girls would have more room. Ezra knows that they will still have questions so he leaves them both with his manuscript, detailing all the events, with a little creative editing and with the ending that has yet to unfold.

They jump to the end and read that Ezra plans to be the hero, and pin the entire thing on Spencer, who became AD as a way to keep the girls together after realizing how much she missed them when they came back for Charlotte’s trial and used Charlotte’s death, who she killed, to keep them in Rosewood

He planned to make it seem like Spencer followed them on their honeymoon, making use of Melissa by having her getting on a plane as Spencer so they had her on the flight manifest, and tried to kill Ezra for taking Aria away while confessing she was AD and Ezra, in self defense, pushes her off the side of a cliff. Aria freaks out how the man she loved could even think about her best friend while Spencer keeps flipping through looking for clues.

Meanwhile, the others grow concerned they haven’t heard from Aria, who should’ve landed and always texts after a flight or Spencer, who wasn’t at home when they checked and wasn't answering her phone.

Mona shows up and tells them AD is back and is ready to end the game, for good and she knows at least one person helping is Wren but she doesn’t know who AD is yet. She knows if she says Ezra again they will try to throw her back in the hospital. They assume at the very least Spencer was probably kidnapped and after Caleb can’t pin point her cell phone Emily remembers Spencer has the Fitbit and maybe they can track her with that (might have to bend reality) and Caleb is able to find a location, the house Toby built. They make their way there.

Spencer and Aria try to break out, Aria manages to toss a bobby pin to Spencer. Ezra comes back asks how far they are in the book and what they think of it so far, he actually sounds genuine for their feedback. Realizing this is the only chance they might have, Aria tried to distract him by asking him questions like what will happen to Melissa after. Ezra thinks for a moment and then goes into that why they were perfect for each other, because even after everything she wants to help him with her writing. He then admits that Melissa would end up being the one he actually pushes over the cliff. While Ezra is still facing Aria, Spencer gets the lock open and  uses her copy to knock him over the head though she knows he won’t be down for long so she opens Aria’s cage and they run not realizing they have no where to go.

Above ground, the others get to the house and start to look around when Toby sees the shed and mentions he didn’t build a shed. When they open the shed they see Wren inside who is starting to open the trap door who tries to make a run for it but Hanna manages to trip him and he hits his head on a rock. The guys work on tying him up while the girls look for Spencer, thinking Wren is AD and the bunker would be safe now and they come across Ezra who looks dazed and convinces them that AD kidnapped Aria and himself and that the girls have to get out of the bunker before AD comes back.

He starts to lead them out when they run into Spencer and Aria who yell that he is AD, Ezra acts quickly and grabs Ali as a hostage while pulling out a knife. He tells Ali that this whole mess started with her anyways, it should end with her.

Behind him is the sound of a gun cocking, aimed right at his head, Mona says “Actually this started with me, and I am going to be the one to finish it.”

Ezra and Wren are taken into custody, where the both face charges of extortion, stalking, kidnapping, murder, building a creepy bunker without a permit and statutory rape

The girls all agree it’s time to finally leave Rosewood, for good

I don’t get paid for it nor have years to plan it out but thats another story and please write your opinions at the very least in the tags !! Also if you add your opinion in the discussion comment thing or in your tag, a calorie free cookie is in your future !

[hitachiinmisadventures]

hey how about hcs for the twins as parents (individually)?

also i’m sorry you’re having a bad day :( i hope you feel better soon!

Holy shit you are one of my favorite blogs I think I can die happy now k bye

By individually, you mean each of them as parents right? That’s what I’m going with and I warn you this is going to be a long one

With this, I’m going off the basis that they didn’t grow up basically one of the riches people in Japan as that generally affects how kids our raised and Money Is Literally Power™ in the business world

If I were to keep them rich, chances are they would be away working more often than not (both twins have stated in canon their parents where rarely home). In most, of no all, shows/anime/cartoons I’ve watched and manga I’ve read regarding high-status wealthy families, the child/children grow up being raised by staff and feel alone or forgotten by their parents. Yes they have money, but money isn’t physical affection humans thrive on.

In my college au idea (that I don’t think I ever posted on here...) I stated the headcanon Hikaru had gotten someone pregnant in college. Ngl, I really think this is something that would happen bc he’s never been one to think before he acts.

 As for Kaoru, uhhhh he’s the tougher one to put this together for as I’ve never really thought about it for him. He canonically isn’t straight, so for this headcanon we’ll say he’s bi and had a wife first, then a husband

Hikaru upon finding out:

with his first kid, he was utterly terrified the moment she said the words

He was barely an adult and now he was going to be a father the world was against him

The first person he told was (surprisingly) not Kaoru as they were going through a rough spot and not talking to each other

So Mori was the first person he told. It was on the roof of their dorm building at 3 in the morning 15 minutes after Hikaru texted him saying it was urgent and he needed someone to stop him from doing something utterly stupid bc his head was a rushing mess and he had no idea what to do

When Hikaru finally got his head out of his ass and showed up at Kaoru’s dorm a week later (also at 3am, that’s just when this boy has his breakdowns) he broke down and told Kaoru everything. That they we drunk at a party. It was a one night stand. They honestly never expected to have any ties afterwards. And all that was shoved back in his face

He honestly thought (and he thought long and hard about it) about not being in the kid’s life bc he wasn’t ready to be a father

Kaoru knocked some sense into him, figuratively and literally

“Next time, keep it in your damn pants idiot”

Telling his parents was even harder than telling Kaoru. He just called Hikaru and idiot. His father didn’t talk to him for three days. And his mother was torn between being upset or being excited to be a grandmother

He was terrified

But then he heard the heartbeat for the first time

He will never admit it, but he cried

And the sonogram technician told him the we having a girl

A daughter. He was going to have a daughter

He grew more and more excited and less and less terrified

He could do this

Her water broke 6 weeks early and the doctors tried to stop her labor but she was dilating quickly

No he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t ready

Kaoru actually punched him bc Kaoru tends to knock sense into this idiot more than anyone else

“That woman in there is alone which so many strange people with her and the one person who should be in there with her is out here in the waiting room trying to get his shit together. She’s just as terrified as you are, if not more. So take a moment. Get your shit somewhat together. And get in that delivery room”

The waiting consisted of: His parents, her parents, Kaoru, Tamaki, Haruhi, Kyouya, Honey, Mori, Renge, even Kasanoda was there—everyone was ready to meet Baby Girl Hitachiin

Holding his baby girl for the first time was single handedly the best moment of his life

His second kid was planned, he was married by then

His two kids have different mother’s but Hikaru, first baby mama, and step-mother/second baby mama co-parent like goddamn pros)

Hikaru as a father:

He’s a little immature for the longest time and with his daughter he makes a lot of mistakes

His mother is on speed dial and that woman is a saint when it comes to helping

“She has a rash Mom—no I don’t know what kind of rash! That’s why I calling you—no, I’m not sending pictures this time—because it’s down there Mom—a fucking diaper rash?”

He has very little experience and boy does this guy need lots of help

Parenting books, the internet, his mother—he’s using every goddamn resource he can find

Haruhi actually offered to watch his daughter literally any time he needed a babysitter—which brought on many long discussion between the two of them about kids

At one point, Hikaru made in offhand comment to Tamaki about their (Tamaki and Haruhi) future with kids and Haruhi about died on the spot

His kids are 6 yrs apart

By the time his son was born, Hikaru knew what the hell he was doing and totally had everything figured out

quit laughing Kaoru he’s trying his best

His son was named after Kaoru

The differences between how Hikaru raised his kids really show sometimes

With his daughter, he let her get away with a lot more than he should have growing up, he was very lenient and he didn’t quite understand parents aren’t supposed to be their kids’ best friend so she basically got anything she wanted for a long time and that was a hard habit to break for both Hikaru and his daughter

(and considering she was the first kid and between all the hosts and the first grandchild in the family, she was spoiled a lot)

With his son, as his son grew up in a two-parent home with his older sister being at her mom’s 50% of the time, he tried being more strict—he learn his lesson letting his first kid having whatever she wanted—although it was hard as he and his wife weren’t always on the same page when it came to disciplining their son

Hikaru and his wife discussed having another kid, but 2 ended up being plenty (even if the oldest was back and forth between Hikaru and her mother and only spent half the time and every other holiday/birthday with him)

He really is trying his best tho and all he hopes is that his children grow up knowing that

Kaoru upon finding out:

Unlike Hikaru, Kaoru was married for several years before his first kid

They actually tried for a little over 2 yrs to get pregnant with no luck for the longest time—he was beginning to think something was wrong—until Hikaru told him his wife was pregnant, then Kaoru’s wife found out she was pregnant (they were born 3 weeks apart)

Kaoru was super exited for have his first kid

After all, he had all that practice with his niece and his little sister (who was born as they began college)

In all honested, Kaoru was physically and financially prepared for parenthood (buuuut probably not mentally)

His first kid was a boy born at 2 in the morning after 36 hrs of labor, he was exhausted, his wife was exhausted, everyone was getting cranky and Hikaru’s first baby mama made labor look easy and Kaoru was not expecting it to be so bad—or that his wife had such a strong grip on his poor hand—but hot damn holding his son for the first time made everything worth it

I don’t have anything else to add here my brain hurts

Kaoru as a father:

Respectively, Kaoru had more experience with raising kids than his brother did (and he learned a lot from his brother’s mistakes)

Although with all his previous experiences, nothing prepared Kaoru for actually parenthood—it was nothing like watching his niece and little sister

He worked nights for a while so someone would be home with the baby

He didn’t want his son in any kind of childcare facility—nothing against them he swears, he just doesn’t like the idea of someone else taking care of his kid that he doesn’t know

Kaoru and his wife started having problems when their son was around 1-1&1/2yo, but trying staying together for their son’s sake. They ended up  divorcing when their son was 5 after Kaoru had fallen out of love with her

Co-parenting wasn’t as easy with Kaoru and his ex-wife as Hikaru and his baby mama made it look (damn Hikaru had to be a pro at this point)

He didn’t get to see his son a lot after the divorce as his ex-wife had custody. 

This killed Kaoru. All he wanted was to be there for his son. He grew up with his parents working a lot and being away and he swore he would never let his kid grow up without him around. He ended up only getting his son every other holiday/birthday and during breaks from school

Kaoru treasured every minute of it

Kaoru remarried a few years later and his husband treated his son like he was his own kid any time they had his son

They ended up adopting a little girl (about the time his son was 7 or 8) and a little boy a few years later

 Kaoru didn’t really have the best relationship with his oldest until he was in his mid-teens

I know I didn’t stay exactly on task here and I kinda went off and stated headcanons based around their lives as parents rather than how they are as parents and I apologized for that. This was very fun to write for and I enjoyed every minute of it. Thanks for the ask! Sorry it was so long, I’ve been working on this literally since the ask hit my inbox...

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 36

time travel arccccccccccccc yessssssssss

I have been waiting SO LONG to reread this arc hhhhh yessss

starting off strong with the sexy roller cover. nice

I love the disconnect of ‘orion pax: outlaw’ compared to the last time we saw him in shadowplay where he was orion pax: supercop

he’s still punching people for JUSTICE or whatever so I guess not much has changed

oh my god this is the issue with the many many two-page spreads...the first time I read this issue I didn't realize that was a thing and GOD I was SO fucking confused. there's already a lot going on in this issue/arc but this made things so much worse hvbhjkdfbsk. I powered thru and still managed to understand most of the arc despite reading half this issue out of order (essentially) bc the website I read it on split the pages up and I couldn't tell they were supposed to be doubled (and also I'm dumb so I didn't figure it out)

anyways, the actual issue...windcharger is out here using his powers to rip a dudes arms clean off. wow!

and there's skids getting punched in the face. Ls

and glitch! a totally minor character of course...

MANNNNN I SO adore the panel of all the lost lighters appearing in a cloud of purple smoke, all posing epically....SO fucking good, peak sci-fi coolness vibes, A++

as usual jro killing it w/the titles, ‘elegant chaos’ is such a great name for a time travel arc

also reading the tfwiki has shown me that many of jros titles are song or album titles, to which I say - that's epic and I love it. with jro doing it, I feel like it straddles the line between referencing music and the very fanfic-esque ‘title things after music’ vibe. I love it

oh god I forgot they use bs cybertronian time units in this sometimes lmao...I mean of course they do but still like, what the fuck is a cycle. is that a day. I feel like these words all have no meaning/the meanings change drastically depending on continuity. I cant keep up and also I'm lazy and don't care enough to try

I love rodimus did u know

poor riptide looks so confused lmao

IS....IS REWIND PIGGYBACKING TAILGATE...THATS SO FUCKING CUTE....I cant fully tell bc of the page layout but ooomg so precious. minibot buddies

whirl saying ‘chuff’ just reminded me how british jro is hvbhakjhdsfbs sometimes it just Jumps Out in mtmte and I'm like Oh God Britain Is Real

I really like the mtmte approach to time travel and paradoxes and whatnot. its just complex enough to be interesting but not too convoluted that it bogs down the story. perfect sci-fi fun!

mannnn chromedome talking abt brainstorm :( I'm sad abt those two hhhhh

and I love how at this point, nobody in the cast ACTUALLY knows brainstorm well enough to know what he’s really doing - including chromedome, who’s ostensibly his closest friend, somebody he’s known for a while - and even the readers don't really know what he’s up to...I like the mystery tbh

cant believe rewind wrote orion pax’s biography, omg. completely forgot abt that detail

cd saying ‘I love it when he talks history’ about rewind....hhhh I love cdrw so muuuuch

godddd the line rodimus says abt whirl - how they need people like whirl around who are ‘happy to get in the way’ of danger and death - that shit haunts me man like...rodimus is basically saying that he’s bringing whirl along to potentially die in place of someone like orion pax (nevermind the fact that whirl dying would ALSO fuck up the timeline)...like, how deep does it go?? is he saying that bc he knows whirl has been trying to get himself killed for a while now, or just bc whirl likes violence? mannn I cant...the character intricacies...man

anyways...I love rodimus he’s such an interesting character. you have that fucked up moment and then in the next panel he’s saying ‘if you want to call it a time phone, I wont stop you’ about the quantum walkie-talkie. he has the RANGE

oh and then rodimus casually volunteering chromedome to do mnemosurgery on anyone who might accidentally find out about them time traveling, which is again fucked up on multiple levels. the raaaaange

vjaksbhdhfusajbfdjk that panel of the lost light squad just standing there like idiots reminds me of that post where someone said abt that panel ‘these characters have a collective 3 brain cells’ or something hvbjadkfnksfdl

rodimus IMMEDIATELY breaking his own rules by trying to reassure pax that they're good guys by pointing at his autobot badge, even tho the autobots DONT EVEN EXIST YET at this point...my boy PLEASE go purchase some brain cells from the store 

and the fact that rodimus introduced himself to pax w/his real name...shouldn't he go by an alias or st??? that seems like a good time travel rule since optimus and rodimus definitely know each other later 

and like, did they not anticipate that some of the people in the past would recognize some of the lost lighters hgbajkhdjfnjksf like cd and whirl get Instantly recognized...great job guys

they are all SO bad at this hvbahskjdhfbasjkf I cantttt luckily for them the orion crew is handing them easy alibis 

‘the dugout’ is that a baseball reference????

also I love the scenery here, the bg looks like rock but there's metal piping and stuff running thru it, its so cool...really adds to the whole ‘cybertron biomes are made of metal’ thing

‘ancient history’ rodimus are you KIDDING ME-

cyclonus time travels to the past and IMMEDIATELY finds a window to stare broodingly out of. icon

tailgate thinking orion pax is SUPER COOL continues here from shadowplay and I love it...tailgate is so cute

and the tg saying ‘don't you think that's awesome, cyclonus?’ hhhhh so cute

one reason I love this arc so much is that this is the arc where the gay Really amps up 

TRAILBREAKER.... oh man ;_;

are you telling me that this outlaw base they're in has ONE bed for all of these people. what the hell vhbaksjhfnsal

cant believe rung sampled roller’s steroid juice box

also cant believe robot steroids exist. except yes I can and I love it

oooh roller’s a 0/1%er? I forgot abt that 

cant believe orion pax just grabs some random phone that belongs to these weird new people and answers it. WHO does that

goddddd megatron and orion’s conversation....destroy me

HHHHHH like...the HISTORY....the regret...the missed opportunities...its all so palpable....goddddddd

and of COURSE, the whole thing is steeped in tragedy...the ideological differences that will become the foundation for a 4 million year long war...megatron, who believes that you need to burn things down and start again to really make change stick, and then orion, who says ‘reform is the answer, not revolution’....AUGHHH the intricacies. mannnn

‘you sound lost’ 😭😭😭

‘its tragic.’ yeah, that about sums up their relationship, especially at this stage and in this continuity 

anyways. [cries about old man megatron talking to young naïve orion pax] goodbye

AUGHHH and then we jump to rodimus ONCE AGAIN breaking his own rules and trying to save trailbreaker...IT HURTS MAN...god I love rodimus, I feel like him being broken up about crewmembers like trailbreaker dying is one part regular sadness over people he knows dying for tragic reasons, and one part personal guilt at someone under his command dying, even if he’s not involved/at fault. I love the dichotomy of this emotional reaction that comes only partially from empathy/emotion, but also comes from a kinda self-centered need for success as measured by people under your command staying alive. and taking into account rodimus’s life it totally makes sense that he’d act like that...GAH I love it. the complexity of it all!

orion pax saying ‘you should read [megatron]. it’s powerful stuff’ I'm screaming, so many LAYERSSSSS

I fucking love time travel AHHHHHHHHH like the opportunity for interactions like these....chefs kiss

‘hey, best friend! miss you!’ rodimus is such a shit hvbdajkfksjhfd 

‘very sus’ rodimus ahead of his time w/the among us lingo

oooh and then they realize that the senate is trying to kill the sparks...gotta save the babies!

tailgate scolding cyclonus for bluntly stating that you'd wanna be subtle when killing newborns...hhhvbhsdfhhhhhh I love them sm

ooooh and rewind has an interesting suggestion - that the senate is actually trying to irradiate the sparks into being outliers...rewind is so smart I love him

and the fact that he’s using history from his database...love it

rodimus sending cyclonus and whirl out like pokemon

ROLLER NOOOO DONT GO OUT THERE

also wow this is literally the 5th (I think) double page spread in this issue...the confusion I felt the first time I read this...lmao 

and now this is literally one of my favorite issues so I'm glad I know what's going on lmao

oh man rodimus telling cd not to erase trailbreakers memory even tho that could jeopardize the entire timeline... :( 

oh man I didn't even notice but roller getting debris blasted into his face like that makes the whole ‘roller is tarn’ theory even more legit considering tarn’s face scars....

‘tighter the better’ hhh don't say that orion. but also, that’s the companion phrase to megatron saying ‘the deeper the better’ hvbhasjkhdfbaksjlf

I do love the semi-campy action hero antics that orion pax gets up to. its just so fun, even when the stakes are high and things are serious

‘this is the greatest thing I have ever seen’ tg ily

THE REVEAL THAT THE SPARKS WENT TO NYON...so rodimus just saved himself, basically...time travel is so trippy

GODDDD ND THEN TRAILBREAKER...HVHHHHHh 😭😭😭 THATS SO CRUEL MAN

oh man that last panel of trailbreaker holding up roller’s juice box...iirc the first time I read this I thought that was roller (cause of the juice box I guess? idk I'm an idiot) so I was like oh ok he must've come back or something. very much related but I didn't really think about tarn being a particular pre-established character and totally didn't read the whole ‘roller is tarn’ thing that was going on 

which in my defense ruth also didn't pick up on any of that while reading this and eventually like 2 issues before the reveal I had to prompt her like ‘you should maybe be wondering WHO tarn is’ vhbahjksdfbaksjdf

so! issue 37! this issue is a solid favorite of mine, id say definitely top 5 or even 3. I'm super biased bc I fucking LOVE time travel, it’s seriously one of my favorite tropes ever, and this issue hits all the time travel beats I love. characters traveling to the past and interacting with people they know! conversations that have multiple meanings bc of TIME TRAVEL! trying to save someone who meets a terrible fate in your future! fun time travel action! the time traveling characters being generally terrible at hiding the fact that they're time travelers! ITS SO GOOD. 

and I love the clever way everything is tied together here - where we get a nice continuation of shadowplay, with this taking place shortly after that with a lot of the same cast, and time travel classics like the good ole ‘if we hadn't travelled back in time and done what we did, the future we came from wouldn't have existed at all,’ in the flavor of ‘rodimus saving his baby self’ and ‘rodimus NOT saving trailbreaker’ and ‘everyone forgot about roller :(’ 

ok but like, did the lost lighters just go ‘oh well, guess rollers gone now.’ like they DID realize that the outlaw crew would have no idea what happened to him if they got their memories erased, right?? did the lost lighters figure that since roller never reappeared after this time period, that was how history was ‘supposed’ to go and they shouldn't mess with it? am I overthinking it? as usual: yes, probably. I love overthinking about comics, in case that wasn't obvious

basically...I love this issue soooo much. so so good and a bunch of fun tropes that I love. I mean the whole arc is like that for me since I love time travel so much. so I cant wait to (re)read more!!

[vangoghcean]

Hey! Are you currently in uni/ college? I’m just looking for any kind of motivation during all of this happening 😅🥺

hello! yes !! i am currently in my last year of college (though the school system works a bit differently than most where i live)! i TOTALLY feel u! this year was ‘supposed to be’ THE GRIND for me! i was gonna study super hard, work crazy hours and apply for a visa to go move out to live in NYC next year! now, without knowing if any of that is possible (and honestly: not knowing if that’s even what i want anymore??) i’m lacking such motivation. on top of that, i 100% recognize that i’m in such a fortunate and comfortable position at this time and that people are struggling much much worse! this should motivate me but somehow makes going to school online feel even stupider!! it’s honestly making me question the trajectory i want my life to take because why am i here if not to help people??? but many of the seemingly practical ways to help people are through corrupt systems in which i want no part?? CONFUSING. for now i’m dedicated to putting what i can in mutual aid funds & highlyyy recommend that if you even have $5 to pop in every now and then that you do. this feels like the future. IN ANY CASE. motivation for studying online (i’m assuming this is the sitch). it can be tricky. my tips are probably the most basic ones you’ve seen over and over but here goes:

MAKE YOURSELF A REGULAR SCHEDULE. set a wake-up alarm for the same time every day. if you find it hard to not just hit snooze, get ur early bird friend to call u up in the morning and chat to u as they get ready until u can secure the caffeine. 😂 but fr, alarms are ur best friend. u can use them to schedule in break time, work periods... and u can use your agenda to mark down days off, due dates, etc. try to estimate how long each project/reading will take you and allot specific times of the day for it. really try to hold yourself accountable! or find a friend to check in on your progress!

GET READY EVERY MORNING. you probably don’t feel as motivated to work in your pyjamas. put on clothes you’d go to a job interview in. doll yourself up if you need to! you’ll feel so much more prepared to work!! (+ if you wear slightly uncomfortable things like jeans, if you’re like me, you’re much less likely to laze around)!

WORK ANYWHERE BUT YOUR BED. set up your station at a desk, your kitchen table, your kitchen counter or in even in a bathtub!! literally ANYWHERE but your bed or a couch. separate your work space and rest space as much as you can. i know this is not always easy (personally, my desk is not even a meter away from my bed and they’re against opposing walls... but do your best!)

MAKE TIME TO BE SOCIAL. you don’t have to go out to a pandemic party in your spare time, but taking a minute to facetime your friend or go chat to your sister or literally have a conversation with the person at the post office (u.s. pals pls support the USPS if u can) will help your mood and motivation immensely. study in silence over facetime with friends. take 3 seconds to scroll through the meme group chat that you’re part of. it’s about the little things 💗

BE ACTIVE. you don’t have to run a marathon, or even follow a chloe ting ab workout (although 10/10 would recommend i actually love that workout!). if you just take 40 seconds to do some jumping jacks in between classes or while the teacher is lecturing and you cannoootttttt sit still anymore, this can boost your mood! it can help you be able to concentrate better and also helps your blood circulation (every 20 mins you should get up and walk around for a bit ideally)!

KEEP YOUR STATION TIDY. don’t clutter your space with things if you can avoid it. computer, headphones, notepad, literary texts/textbook, paper, pencil, eraser, sharpener, pen, whiteout. BOOM. done. that’s it. (well, maybe except for coffee/water/tea, which, btw, i’d recommend keeping in a bottle or thermos that you can lock so that u can avoid frying your technology!!) everything else can be stowed away somewhere and pulled out when needed. if you’re in art school or some other program where things can get messy, create a system that makes all your materials accessible but not immediately in the way. (also, as someone with a very tiny space, i’m here to tell u there is ALWAYS a way to do this!!! & it’s ok to ask for help!!! if your space is not conducive for work? borrow a few screws and a screwdriver or a nail and hammer from ur neighbor! get a lil plank of wood from the store or the side of the road or someone you know and bang a shelf into your wall! or grab moving boxes from a buddy and stack em in your corner to make a storage space! there’s always a way.)

USE. AN. AGENDA. i think i already touched on this one but HONEY if u don’t have an agenda or a calendar WHAT ArE You DoInG???? once, i didn’t have enough money to buy one, so i literally paid 2$ for colourful construction paper at the dollar store, drew the dates in and stapled one together. there is not really any excuse to not have one! you can use the back pages of your unfinished third grade math notebook! it doesn’t matter! you just need a space to write things down because this is probably one of THE most essential tools for staying motivated (writing down ur goals) and staying on track (writing in due dates, etc.)!! u can watch cute bullet journal videos and fill it with stickers if that motivates u! or do what i did this year and buy one that’s way expensive so that u feel bad about how much money u spent and therefore HAVE to use it 😂 whatever works for u!

JOURNAL. this may sound kind of irrelevant, but i found that i was SO much more motivated to go to online school when i had a space to just let out all my negative emotions towards it. in my journal, i would dump out all my feelings of disdain towards doing theatre school online and missing my friends...so then when it actually came to school, i was pretty much over it and was just excited to see them and my teachers (even tho it was just virtually!)

maybe u weren’t asking for advice lol but i felt like going OFF!! 😂 if anyone has tips for motivation/success at online school in this wild global pandemic era we’re living in reblog and add em! we can make this a cute little chain!! hope you’re all taking care! i believe in u and u r going to do AMAZING this school year i feel it ✨💞

[serialreblogger]

some of your post/reblogs were so relatable to me that more and more I think I may have ADHD (I'm like, at least 70% sure of this and the 30% is me searching for a psychiatrist/therapist that I can trust/afford, anyway) so, since your how to essay post Im talking myself to ask if you have some study tips or tips to focus, anything to help, really. I'm in college and I can't focus to read 2 paragraphs which makes me anxious and makes me procrastinate because I can't study and I HAVE to study so I avoid everything but then I think NOW I have even less time to study and I got stuck in this circle. And because I can't read anything I also cant bullshit my way writing papers that I have to so I don't do this too, so I'm just spiraling more and more with this which also doesn't help with the depression. And I'm so, so SORRY to dump my problems on you (this isn't my intention here) but if you have some tips or don't mind talking about what you do to study I really appreciate it with all my heart.

oh friend, i’m so sorry to hear you’re goin through that, it’s EXTREMELY relatable tho. everything you just wrote basically sums up my entire first year of university (just add in a couple dozen spiralling panic attacks on the basement floor and you’ll be me), and while i wish i had advice i could promise would solve the issue, i don’t... know? that i would recommend doing exactly what i did? because while i made it through university with ridiculously good grades, i also exacerbated a pre-existing anxiety disorder to the point where i literally could not bear being alive for a while there.

but for whatever it’s worth, and bearing in mind that you need to prioritize your own well-being WAY above whatever grades you get on a stupid piece of paper, here’s some tips on how to get through course readings, based on what i’ve learned through blood, tears, trial and error:

don’t read the full two paragraphs, to start. ADHD makes reading academic articles hell, but (and i genuinely don’t know if this is possible for anyone else, the chemical cocktail of debilitating anxiety that was my brain at the time made me do things i otherwise couldn’t and definitely shouldn’t) i did manage to finagle a way to make it work for me.

See, the thing about academic papers is that they’re very nicely organized. every paragraph is dedicated to making an individual point, which is introduced at the beginning and summarized, more or less, towards the end. this means you can get a very handy-dandy trick, because here’s the thing about ADHD brains: we’re VERY GOOD at making connections.

so here’s the trick: you don’t actually have to read the paragraphs. Not the full ones, anyway.

Let’s break it down:

First, what is the overall reading meant to address? What’s the title of the book or article? Is there a heading or subtitle to provide you with extra information?

Second, what is the thesis statement in your paragraph? Yes, every essay has a thesis statement, but every paragraph also has a specific point to make, which is stated in a sort of mini-thesis, typically right at the beginning.

Once you know this thesis statement, the rest of the paragraph is just fleshing out and providing evidence for that statement. You can keep reading if you need more information to understand what the author’s getting at, but once you’ve got that thesis statement, the rest is just there to get in your way.

For neurotypicals, I think, it’s maybe necessary to read this stuff all the way through? I don’t know. What I do know is that, for ADHDers, we tend to be very, very good at making extrapolations from very minimal information, based on all the surrounding context.

You don’t need to do the full readings. You just need to read the first sentence, process what it’s saying, and skip over the rest.

(if the first sentence of the paragraph is nonsense to you, don’t panic. often the first sentence or even the whole introductory paragraph is intentionally confusing, so if there’s something you don’t understand, disregard it and move on to the second sentence, or the next paragraph.

this happens often, because a lot of academic writing is just a power play on the part of the writer. “Look How Smart I Am Compared To You, You Have To Work So Hard To Figure Out What I’m Saying,” etc. Don’t buy it, tho--the true measure of intelligence isn’t how thoroughly you can confuse someone else, it’s how effectively you can share the knowledge you have. Intelligence is useless if you can’t share it.

Do whatever you can to make it through essential readings, but don’t be intimidated by them. If you can’t understand them, it’s not because you aren’t “smart enough,” it’s because they’re badly written.)

Final notes: this process is meant to walk you through reading papers, but it also lowkey applies to a lot of insurmountable tasks in academia.

You look at a 5-page paper, look at your attention span, and immediately despair because yeah, that’s impossible. The solution is not to expand your attention span, because that’s also impossible. So, instead, don’t look at the 5 pages.

Look at an impossible task, and break it down into its smallest pieces.

Don’t look at the 5 pages, don’t even look at the first two paragraphs. Make a plan for how reading a single paragraph might be possible for you (in this case, break the paragraph down into its own components, and skim over most of them in favour of reading only the most necessary portions). Then focus on finding those one or two sentences you need in the very first paragraph. That’s doable.

You do that, and then you move onto the next.

It’s extremely difficult, especially for ADHDers, to limit your mental vision to the most immediate task and stop looking at the big picture, but it’s also necessary. If you can find a way to make the smallest tasks possible for you, you can break the big, impossible ones down until they’re made of tiny chores. You can do tiny chores. You can read one sentence, take five minutes to process it, but you can read it. That’s all you need to be able to do.

Read one sentence. Skip the rest. Move on to the next paragraph. Repeat.

That’s the real secret, the one that got me through university. It’s impossible to complete a biology lab, it’s impossible to read this entire interminable textbook, so don’t think about the impossible tasks. Think about the single step directly in front of you, focus entirely on that, and eventually, the impossible tasks will be done.

(The other thing I recommend is not taking a full courseload. Please, please, please make sure that in addition to getting your schoolwork done, you also have enough time left over for you to truly relax, and not feel guilty for doing so. If you’re getting intrusive thoughts halfway through an essay, but instead of terrible things you’re thinking about your latest favourite TV show and feel like your brain is thirsty to watch it? You’re working too hard. Take it from someone who ignored their own mental needs until it wrecked them past the point of continuing--burnout is not fun, and you deserve to protect yourself from it. Take it slow. Your wants are just as important as your needs, and both are way more important than your schoolwork.)

[navegandoaciegas]

the love you deserve II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: almost 3k, ops

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve. Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, hurt!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires. This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 2, please comment and reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I plan on writing at least another part, maybe two.

What do you think of the reader?

Part 1

The day before

Las Vegas, Nevada

Vegas is hot and dry as hell. It’s also a lot of fun, so the movies did not lie about that at least. They did exaggerate how fun the casinos would be tho.

You’re at a pool party, sipping on a drink, silently judging the moves of the sweaty people who are dancing around you.

You just got off a facetime call with Jaime, and god you miss him and Alpine too, but life is good and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, your best friend is getting married to the man she loves and you’re having the time of your life with your girlfriends.

“So, you’re not having cold feet, are you?” you hear Hannah question Jade.

They’re basking in the sun around you.

Jade hesitates as she douses herself in sunblock.

“I gotta say I’m kind of scared but I’ve been dreaming about this for three years, so no? I guess. I don’t know. I love him.”

“That didn’t answer the question.” you observe.

“Are you sure you’re ready to commit to one dick only for the rest of your life?” Raven asks, and you all laugh and roll your eyes playfully.

Ever the commitaphobe, just like you. Well, like you used to be before you met Jaime.

You hate rush hour after work, you hate it so much in fact that you’d rather go to your work’s gym and workout even though you’re exhausted than catch a packed train.

By the time you get to the station most people are home already.

He’s here today.

You’ve seen him quite a lot in the past few weeks. The first thing you noticed about him is the way he seems to fold in on himself, his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

His bad posture aggravates you beyond reason, and you just wish you could go there and straighten his back without looking like a weirdo. But you can’t, so you just admire from afar like the good creep you are.

He’s always wearing a baseball cap over luscious but questionably greasy hair, huge winter jackets and leather gloves; still, underneath all that it’s clear he’s handsome. You always had a thing for men built like brick houses.

Today is the day, you think, today is the day I finally strike a conversation with the guy, it’s now or never.

Truth is, the loneliness he exudes breaks your heart and the way people avoid him like he’s got the plague enrages you for no particular reason. Somehow the ever indifferent New Yorkers would rather stand on a moving train than sit next to him, and that something about that that irks you way too much.

You really don’t understand why. Sure he’s intimidating, he’s a huge man, but he’s quiet and calm and he smiles softly when he spots a dog on the train. He gets off at same stop you do and no matter how isolate the station and the streets are by the time you get home, even if you two are the only ones there, you’ve never felt uneasy.

So you go and sit next to him, you smile when he looks up in surprise and you say hi.

He stutters an ‘evening ma’am’ and you’re proud of yourself because you’ve got it in you to made the big scary guy blush like a schoolgirl.

“Not to be a creep or anything but I’ve seen you around quite a lot, we commute together almost every day.” You chuckle and you introduce yourself.

“I uhm-” he’s cute when he furrows his brows “ I’m Jame- Jaime. I’m Jaime.”

You smile at the memory.

Jaime turned out to be a lot less shy than anticipated. He was a stuttering mess on the first few dates but the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to show his true sarcastic, snarky nature, whilst still being a gentle giant and an absolute sweetheart.

He’s thoughtful, cocky and sweet at the same time. He makes you melt in a puddle whenever he snuggles Alpine on the inside of his jacket, and the rumble of his voice is enough to make your brain short circuit and your panties dampen.

“There goes that look again, you’re such a love sick fool.”

“Oh God, you should see her when she’s with her precious Jaime, they literally have heart eyes, they’re so cute together it makes me sick to my stomach.”

You laugh and shake your head at Raven’s and Jade’s teasing.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, you should have seen yourself the day you met Matt, bitch, you looked like you’d never seen a man before. I ain’t forget.” you retort.

Hannah laughs and adds “When are we going to meet mystery man? It’s not fair that Jade only to got to see him. And word on the streets is that he’s real pretty.”

“When you three learn how to behave. But I can show you a picture, just please don’t be weird about it.” you finally relent after five months of avoiding the topic.

“He’s very, very hot ladies.” Jade quips.

You send her a side glance (goodnaturedly of course) and show them how pretty your sweet boy is.

Raven’s jaw goes slack as she clutches your phone and gawks at the picture.

“Lucky bastard, he’s literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, where did you find him and how did you convince him to be with you of all people?”

You laugh at Raven’s blunt remarks. They playful banter between the two of you has been going on since freshman year of college.

“Now I get why you have that dumb love struck face on you at all times.” Hannah adds.

Grace tho, she’s unusually quiet, and she stares at him with a scowl on her face. Her eyes travel slowly from your phone to your face, and the anticipation to know the reason why is killing you.

“Uhm, you’re dating him? And you said his name is Jaime?” she hesitates.

Whatever is going to come out of her mouth, you already know you’re not going to like it.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong and I’m mistaking him for someone else but I’m pretty positive I’m right and, ah” Another pause, you’re about to faint. “There’s no way to break it down to you in a way that won’t hurt but” she sighs “he’s lying to you.”

Ice fills your veins. You can feel dread crawling up your spine.

Is he someone else’s boyfriend? Are you the other woman or is he cheating on you? Is he a professional scammer?

“What the hell are you talking about Gracie?” Jade almost shouts, and you’re one heartbeat away from fainting.

Grace looks at you with all the pity in the world and you want nothing more than to erase that expression from her face.

“He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

The world around you stops spinning for a second as the ring in your ears get louder. You just wish the ground could open up and swallow you whole.

All of a sudden you start laughing hysterically like she’s told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard, you laugh so ugly that a few heads turn in your direction and give you funny looks, so loud that your friends are startled and even more worried.

Jaime, your sweet baby boy who adopted a three legged blind cat no one else at the shelter wanted to save him from being euthanized.

Jaime who volunteers at the VA with his pal Sam to help war vets reintegrate in society after they get back home, because he knows what it’s like to have your life turned around, to find yourself with no commands to obey all of a sudden and more trauma than you know what to do with. He knows what it is like to know no peace, to sleep a couple hours a week until you’re hallucinating so bad you’re begging the universe to just end your suffering.

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve.

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly.

Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

He goes grocery shopping for the elderly couple next door whose kids never visit, because they are too weak, too sick, too tired to leave the house.

“I’m sorry sweetie, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have know.”

Grace hands you a phone, open on his Wikipedia page.

Jaime’s sky-blue eyes stare back at you.

You really let him play a number on you, didn’t you?

You feel a hot surge of blinding anger and you want to tear the world apart, you want to take Jaime- no, not Jaime, James and bitch slap him in the face so damn hard you convey the humiliation you’re feeling right now, knowing that the man you love and thought you knew lied to your face for five fucking months.

Did he ever consider coming clean, revealing his true identity?

Was he ever planning on telling you? Or would he move in with you, wake up and go to bed with you every day feeding you lies upon lies?

Would you end up married to a man that doesn’t exist and have kids with a ghost?

Grow old with a guy who said he was 33 but is actually 99?

Would he never get undressed in front of you? How was he planning on hiding is metal arm? Surely one day you’d be intimate and you would see it? The whole “I want to wait cause I’m old fashioned like that” would eventually need to stop.

Or maybe it wasn’t a serious relationship at all for him, not in the way it was for you. Not in the way you wanted to spend the rest of your days loving him and making him the happiest man alive. Not in the way you were ready to commit to him, body and soul, for all eternity.

Now the endearing terms he used to call you, his babydoll, his little doll, they taste bitter on your tongue.

A doll, literally. A little toy to play with and toss aside once he got bored of his little game.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out like this?

It reminds you of that time in your junior year of college, you were dating this guy back then, and you liked him, he was fun, the sex was good, he supported you in your endless hours of cheer practice.

One day he told you he was sick and couldn’t make it to your afternoon study date. That same night you ran into him at a frat party with his friends. Wasn’t so sick after all.

You broke up on the spot, shed a few tears while your teammates held you and moved on with your life with your head held high, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life no matter how many curveballs the universe throws your way.

You vividly recall what hurt the most: the feeling of being lied to and toyed with. The hot humiliation that burns your cheeks and makes your eyes water when you realized you have yet again misplaced your trust. The inevitable question that plague you for days on end: what else did he lie about? How could I be so damn stupid?

His name was Tommy, and sometimes in the following years your first instinct when a man told you anything was to obsess over whether they were being honest or not. Until Jaime, that is, you trusted Jaime with your life, you would never question him, and look where that got you.

You’re aware you’re overthinking and maybe overreacting at this point, and that wailing in your own misery while your girlfriends are out having fun in a club is doing you no good, nor is it changing your current predicament. But you never listen to the voice of reason, and you won’t start today.

The room feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

You’re sweating but your body is shaking. You’re breathing but the air you inhale won’t reach your lungs. You’re blinking your eyes frantically but you only see darkness. You hear your own heart beat out of your chest.

It seems like the room you’re in is closing down on you and there’s no space left, you’re being crushed by those walls around you, you’re drowning, you’re suffocating.

Is this what heartbreak feels like, or is it just a heart attack?

Turns out it’s a panic attack, you know because you typed your symptoms on Google.

You are painfully aware you’re spiralling out of control.

Get a grip.

All you can think about is how you want him to suffer, you want him to feel the same humiliation you’re feeling right now. You want him to feel his chest compress, his throat tighten, you want him to know what it’s like when your heart is breaking in a thousand pieces and you can’t even breathe.

You want his world to come tumbling down on him and crush him under the weight of his mistakes.

You don’t care why he did it. You don’t give a single fuck about his reasons.

Because the truth is, no matter who he was in his past life, no matter how many he killed or tortured, you would have loved him all the same. You would have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders if it meant he could sleep soundly at night.

But he didn’t give you a chance to.

And because you never fucking think before you act, you put your best dress on a join the girls at the club they’re at, and you hope the tequila is going to drown your sorrow and dull the pain burning you from within.

Tonight you don’t want to feel anymore.

Four months ago.

Brooklyn, New York.

Every morning, Bucky wakes up at 5.30 am and joins Steve Rogers on his jog around the neighborhood, and every morning without failure Bucky is grumpy about it. He hates the early mornings, especially in the winter, but he can’t find it in himself to refuse Steve anything.

Steve is smart and too observing for his own good and he knows that something has changed. He knows it in the way Bucky’s steps are louder and bouncier, his back is straighter, his smile is easier, his eyes shine brighter.

He knows it because underneath the sandalwood scent of Buck’s deodorant and the musky smell of his sweat, he can sometimes detect the less pungent fragrance of coconut and peaches.

“So, who is she?”

The question catches him off guard. Bucky stops dead in his track and looks at his friend like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

At that he has the decency to blush.

“She’s- she’s perfect. I met her on the ride home from the shelter. ‘member when we were kids, we used to dream about the future? I swore I’d get myself a pretty wife and love her for the rest of my days and have a bunch of kids?”

“Yeah, I used to tell you you’d have to stop dragging me in those god awful double dates, or else you wouldn’t get any of those pretty girls to stick around.”

The two share a bittersweet smile as they reminisce how their life could have been.

“She’s pretty, you know, she’s sweet, she’s a bit of an asshole but the good kind, she’s so damn smart, you know all those science things I used to like before the war? She knows them all. She’s an engineer. I know my Ma would have approved of her, and Becca would have died to have her as a sister.”

“So why’s that long face?”

Bucky snorts.

Of course, how could Captain America understand? People don’t avoid him like he’s got some infectious disease, they don’t give him dirty looks, girls don’t cross the street when they see him, mothers with kids on their hips don’t cover their children as if he was the Boogeyman. “She didn’t recognize me, and well I- I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t want me, and I like her too much to mess this up.”

“Buck.” Steve gives him his best stern look. “You have to tell her, she has a right to know who she’s seeing. If she’s the one she’s going to love you all the same, but don’t lie to her. These secrets can only backfire in the long run. It’s going to ruin your relationship.”

Bucky nods absentmindedly and continues running without uttering another word.

No one could ever love his true self, he thinks bitterly. No one could help him carry the weight of his past on his shoulders.

If only he had known back then how right Stevie would be, he would have told you everything four months ago.