#it has been SO long since I’ve played and I miss her chaotic stupid ass 🤧

[imogenkol]

Submitting another eligible bachelor to the oc dating pool 💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut

[elphiej]

Be My Light: Prologue

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader, possible OT7 X Reader (Undecided)

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: N/A (Yet)

*Summary: In the city of Central, a dark shadow rises as an evil from their past threatens to destroy the members of Bangtan and seize control of the city. While struggling against the rival gangs, as well as their own inner turmoils, they find their journey intertwined with a girl who’s past is a mystery, even to herself. She is lost and broken, but finds she has little choice but to trust the gang members as she becomes a target of the rival gang and drug lords. As they protect their new charge, the boys start to feel things they haven’t thought they would ever have. Can she help them fight against the shadows of their past? Can she melt the cold persona of Bangtan’s second in command? Can they be a beacon for her in own darkness? And can they help her unlock the secrets of her past and help her find her inner strength? 

(I’m terrible at writing summaries. Please let me know what you think)

              Be My Light 

               The last few stars in twilight sky illuminates the chrome skyline, barely a soul was awake, as a black SUV pulled up to the curb by a half-constructed office space in the lower part of the City. Hardly anyone who lived in the massive metropolis was about at such an early hour. Especially in this lower section of Central City, where it was mostly cheap apartments, shops, and construction. Central City- barely anyone remembered its true name after the ‘First’ Gangs bestowed the code name upon the citizens. The driver gazed across the empty street to the massive skeleton of a building that loomed in the fading twilight, not liking the ominous feeling that radiated from it like heat from the car’s air conditioner.  Nothing about this seemed right and his anxiety settled deep within his gut. This was not the usual drop zone and too far from their own territory. The construction cranes and bulldozers that were deadly still, like a warning, loomed about the shell of the shopping center the civil government thought would bring some life and safety back to this part of the city. The massive, five story building had too many unknown factors for him; there were too many places to hide, too many shadows, too many things to use against them should things go south. He sank lower into the driver seat, anxiety settling like a stone in his gut. It didn’t matter how many of these drops he had done or how many times he had seen things go one way or the other, he still got nervous. He turned his attention to the other member in the car, trying to distract himself.

               In the passenger seat, seemingly asleep and unbothered, was a young man who was older in years but shorter in stature than the driver.  He had pale skin and platinum blonde hair, dressed up in a simple black shirt and ripped black jeans, with a blood red, long hooded coat, that gave him a vampiric or bringer of death vibe. Fitting for what may happen, the driver thought. His arms were crossed against his chest and his head was leaning against the window. The eldest had been in the same position since they had left their garage a few hours ago. He seemed almost calm, which the younger allotted to his hyung’s experience with the rival gang.  However, quite the opposite was the presence in the back, who had stretched himself to lounge on the back seat. There laid an angelic youth with golden, wavy hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was yin and yang personified to those who had seen him in action. The angel had his phone above his face, tapping furiously in a game, the light illuminating his innocent features and smile. The driver knew that once they entered the building that the innocent look would change to something scary once they entered the building. If looks could kill, the driver trailed off. Having both his hyungs with him and both seeming calm should help put him at ease. It was a good team they had in the car and had done much harder things before. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that loomed over him.

               “Hyung,” he said, softy, looking at the sleeping passenger. The other seemed dead to the world, so he repeated himself louder. Only when the other made a noise of acknowledgment did he continue. “Are we sure this is the place?”

               The passenger opened his dark eyes and looked across the driver to the construction site. His eyes moved to out his own window before nodding. The angel stopped playing his game and sat up longer enough to confirm with this companion. It wasn’t quite the reassurance the younger man was hoping to get.

               “Hyung, I don’t like this” he said. “This doesn’t feel right. We’re doing a drop, right? This isn’t hallowed ground. It’s a half-constructed building that none of us have any knowledge of. This can’t be the site.”

               “This is where RM said to go. This is the place the asshole wanted to do this. Said they feel safer here,” the passenger said, his voice low and rough from being woken.

               The angel leaned forward between the two of them, thumbs still moving quickly across the screen. “Those guys are just scared,” he said, his voice as light and airy as his appearance. “They keep losing men because they don’t train them right. Once their boss disappeared, they can barely keep their heads above water. They think being on their turf will scare us or something. Think we’re more likely to agree in order not to cause any trouble. That we’ll be too cautious to draw any blood.” His eyes shifted to the driver, and the devil within shone through for a moment. “Not like that would stop us, right Jungkook-ah?”

               “Ease the blood-shed, Jiminie,” the eldest warned. “This is just an exchange. We get in and get out. They promised a standoff, no weapons. So we should oblige the goons.”

               “Then why do we have a weapon stash with us” Jungkook asked with a playful, knowing smile.

               “Because we’re not stupid. Ji may have been bound by the Accords, but he was still a deceitful fuck, played by whatever rule got him to where he was. And he taught his dongsaengs to do the same. Now that he’s disappeared, they’ve gotten more chaotic. Look what happened to Hoseok last month when they jumped him in the middle of the street. They’re getting messy. We’re lucky Moonbyul and some X-ers were in the area, else Hobi and some civilians would have been worse off.”

               “Come on, Hyung. Are you tell us that if Choi’s in there, you’re not gonna give him a couple more bruises to match the old ones? I’m sure he’d like a matching set,” Jimin said leaning back in his seat.

               “We’re not gonna stoop to their level. We’ll show them how to act. But,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade, and smiled, “if he is there and wants to start shit with me, I’ll be happy to give him a scar like he tried to give Hobi.”

               Jimin and Jungkook looked at each other, grinning. Within their own group, they were all remarkably close, basically family. They all looked out for and took care of each other. But their Yoongi-hyung was even more protective of his younger brothers, always secretly doing things for them when they least expected it. On the outside, he was hard, quiet, and calculating. But on the side, they knew he was softy (though they dare not say that in his presence).

               Yoongi slipped the knife back into his red trench coat’s inner pocket and checked his watch. It was not quite time to meet with the Royals, though they knew them better as Goons or Jackasses. But it was time to check in with their secret surveillance. He pulled out his phone and made a call. Ringing filled the silent car through the speakers. It did not take long before the ring stopped, and deep voice replaced it.

               “Hyung,” it whined, “you finally call! I’ve been freezing out here since sundown, watching this damn building. I’m cold and lonely!”

               “Lonely my ass, Taehyung. You’ve been texting Jimin since you got there and playing that damn mobile game since two. You do realize you’re supposed to be look out. Or do I need to find someone who actually care about our safety to replace you next time?”

               “What? Hyung, no! I’ve been doing my job, I swear,” Taehyung said frantically, his voice wavering as if he was about to cry. “I can multi-task, I swear. We’ve only played a couple rounds, I promise. Please, Hyung, have mercy on me! You know I don’t like being alone. Please don’…,” his voice trailed off.

               Jimin grabbed the phone from Yoongi. “Taehyung-ah, it’s okay. Yoongi-Hyung is just kidding. He’s smiling, really.”

               “If that’s what you want to call it,” Jungkook laughed.

               As quickly as Taehyung’s sobbing began, it just as quickly turned into a deep laugh. “I know. I can hear it in his voice. Not nice, Yoongi-shi. We really need to work on your people skills”

               “Anyways, what is happening out there?” Yoongi loomed forward to look out the windshield to the building across from the meeting place. A top the highest building, he could just make out the body sitting there. Had he not known what he was looking for, or had an idea where Taehyung had positioned himself, he would have missed him. The lookout had positioned himself across from the back of the building where the Goons would be entering at, in order to stay a few steps ahead of them.

               “Barely anything has happened since I got here. Once the sun went down, all the people cleared the street. It’s been quite here. The civilians are probably worried about the Goons’ new recruits causing trouble at night. Only three cars have come down this way. And you’re number three. There’s some more construction to the west, some little family shops and alleys to the east, and a couple apartment housings to the north of here. So the civilians are safe from the cross-fire, if there is any.” He stopped talking for a sec, only to let out a loud, triumphant ‘yah’. “Got you, Jimin. That’s for cheating last round. I win! You owe me some honey rice cakes.” Said cheater threw his phone on the back seat with a growl, which only made Taehyung laugh more.

               Yoongi rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “Why did I not ask Jin-Hyung to come with me?”

               “Because Jin-Hyung is taking care of Hoseok-Hyung. And RM-Hyung is trading that ‘equipment’ we picked up with Solar’s crew for some more fire power,” Jimin explained, leaning forward to rest his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Besides, we’re the dream team right here. Taehyung’s a great lookout with his attention to details. And he’s a strong back up in a brawl. Jungkook’s the most daring getaway driver, next to Jin-Hyung, and is the muscle. And you and I are the best shots. How can you top that?”

               Yoongi shrugged Jimin off him. “Fine, but stay focused. No more games, you two.”

               Taehyung chuckled deeply. “Ok, Grandpa. I promise.”

               From his place atop the building, Taehyung smiled down at the SUV. After so many hours of nothing happening, their reunion had woken him up and gave him some much-needed energy. He listened as Jungkook started asking Jimin about the game, and Yoongi grumbling every now and again. He stretched his long arms up, and checked on the screens in front of him. The time of the drop was approaching but there had been no activity in the building across from him. He and Jimin had snuck into the building a few days earlier and placed some hidden cameras all over. He tapped a few buttons on his screen, switching from floor to floor, his eyes taking in every detail. No change. The building was just as empty as it was when he first got there. He checked the time in the lower corner of his screen; it was only a few minutes before the appointed time and still no sign of the enemy. If there was one thing Taehyung liked about the absent head of the rival gang was his attention to time and arriving to an appointment early. Time was everything and, without him, they lacked it

               You’ve got shit timing, a voice echoed from the farthest reaches of his mind.

               His fingers froze on the keyboard. Why was that making an appearance? That deep, sinister voice had been lurking on the edge of his attention ever since Hoseok was jumped. His hyung didn’t remember most of that attack, let alone who was the spearhead. He recalled being jumped from behind by some lower level recruits that he may have recognized, and that he dealt with a few of them before they pinned him on his knees. And he remembered a pair of expensive, designer shoes coming into his line of vison before a cane cracked him in the face. Moonbyul, a member of the Mama gang from the Northern side of town, had been one of the first to come to his aid. Taehyung had only met her once but remember that she was a strong and intimidating, and a fierce fighter. Joohyun and Shownu of the X-ers he knew better from all their gangs’ interactions. They had been looking for a good restaurant when they heard the commotion and sprang to help. Joohyun swore that he saw the elusive Choi there in fray, yet neither Moonbyul or Shownu were sure if he was there or not. Choi had always been like a shadow, appearing and disappearing when he pleased. No one had heard of his actions for almost four years. And, in the two-year absence his leader, Ji, no one was quite sure who had taken over as temporary leader. There had been clues that Choi could have returned to take over; he was the oldest member of the generals, had been a right hand man for Ji, and was more secretive of his doings then some of the other Generals would have been. The idea of Choi being back in Central made Taehyung anxious; old, painful memories had started to resurface. Things that Taehyung had worked through and had lapsed into a comfortable mindset when they thought that bastard had disappeared. Just the thought that Choi may be back made him wonder if that meant Ji was back too and what that may do to his members.

               Taehyung didn’t have much time to dwell as movement from one of the cameras caught his attention. He clicked into the camera that was stationed on the opposite side of the construction site, where the back-loading docks were to see three black Royces with their lights off came to a stop. Here we go, he thought as pulled a folded bandana from his jacket and slipped it up under his dyed gray locks.  Zooming in, he saw a few Royal members that he recognized from past fights. Some were boxers and a few MMA fighters, but they were slower than his trim and light members. The rest looked new, young and jittery. Maybe just a training run, Taehyung thought. It wouldn’t be out of place. RM and Jin had taken him on drops and exchanges when he first joined.  Altogether, there were twelve Royal members. That alone made Taehyung nervous; there were too many factors playing out in his head. He knew that between himself, Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi, they could deal with them if they decided to do something stupid. One member Taehyung, Chen, knew well enough from their encounters was a high-ranking member and was normally the leader of the squad. He was slightly decent about following the Accords. Maybe this will go fine.

               That was, until he watched Chen go to the third Rolls Royce and opened the back door.

               The first thing that came into view was a pair of expensive, silver dress shoes. Then a matching ornate cane. Taehyung could feel his breath catching in his throat. Out of the car, dressed in a light colored three-piece suit with a white fur coat draped over his broad shoulders, stepped Choi. His gloved hand ran through his quaffed frosted hair as he gave instructions to his minions. The little smirk that appeared through the computer screen was all it took for Taehyung’s mind to instantly transport him back to the worst night of his entire life. He could feel those gloved hands on his neck and shoulder while Choi’s companion laughed like a crazed child behind him. That sadistic smile was one of the last things he remembered seeing before he was shoved deep into the freezing darkness.

               Here’s your punishment for your disrespect. Do me a favor and don’t die too quick. My brother wants his turn to play with you. Now, deep breath, Choi breathed in his ear.  

                    His heart started to beat harder and panic began to grip hold of him. He didn’t want to think about it, not now. He thought he was past all this. But, with the chances of seeing the general who tormented him, only made his breath check in his throat. Get a grip, he mentally screamed, get over it. Don’t let him win! But all he could focus of was the wet, chill creeping up from his toes, his lungs restricting, the muted sounds in his ears…He gripped his phone like a life-line, running through what his team taught him when he got like this. Taehyung closed his eyes and tried to count. He tried to focus on a happier memory, but the onslaught of panic surged onward. He tried to force himself to take an unsteady breath, shaking his dyed gray locks from his sweaty face. Focus, breath. He kept repeating it. But his lungs felt like they were in a vice, like they were filling up with ice cold fear. There were hands gripping him, dragging him deeper into the dark memory. And he felt like he was swimming against a current. It wasn’t until Jimin’s voice seemed to cut through the rushing in his ears that he felt he had a lifeline. Where his silence may not have seemed like anything to the others at that moment, Jimin seemed to sense the change, even without seeing him. Taehyung clung to his best friend’s words and took a shaky breath into his burning lungs. Then, another and another. Just like he did when this same nightmare plagued him for an entire year. And as quickly as it came on, the dark hands pulled back into the deepest part of his memory.

               Jimin called out to him again as his eyes opened, and Jungkook’s followed asking if everything was alright. Tae let his eyes fall on his computer screen to ground himself back into his reality. Everything is fine. Focus on the screens. There were only two men by the cars now, blocking the loading dock from any surprise attack. Where did the others go? Tapping quickly on the keyboard, he cycled through the different cameras. The ground floor was only occupied by the large support beams and boxes of different building material. The second floor had empty shells for stores. The third and fourth were much of the same, with only scaffolding, tools, and more large boxes. The fifth floor was were the designer had wanted to put an event hall based on the layout; wide open with decorative columns lining the middle of the space, windows that looked out to the distant skyline of the city, and a marble floor that hadn’t been finished yet. Like the other floors, metal scaffolding and work tables littered the area, and unpacked crates and such were dispersed. At the edge of the camera Taehyung had placed by the entrance, he finally spotted Choi and the rest of the goons. As his eyes darted about the screen, taking in every detail he needed, he sat a bit straighter and shifted from the playful Tae into a different being. Now in the position of lookout and back gunner was V.

               “Tae, you ok up there? You’re too quiet. I think Jimin’s about to scale this building to check on you,” Yoongi’s voice rang through the phone, behind it was Jimin’s quite voice asking the same.

               “Suga-Hyung,” V voice was much deeper and serious than Taehyung’s, signaling to the car that something was up, “They’re here. Three cars at the back-loading dock. Two men stayed with the cars. There are thirteen in total.”

               “That’s more than normal for a drop like this,” Jungkook wearily said.

               “Hyung,” V continued, “Choi is with them.”

               From his place in the car, Yoongi nodded silently. That was all the info he needed to know that this wouldn’t be a normal interaction like they had hoped. The confirmation that Choi was, indeed, back in the picture meant that the game was about to be much more dangerous. He looked across to his younger friends, knowing from the look on their faces that they understood that too.

               “Where are they V-shi?”

               “Choi and the others are in the fifth-floor hall like they said. Their situated in the back of the room. Take the elevator on the ground floor and it’ll open into the space. There’s enough room to keep some distance between you guys and there are enough obstacles, in case. I can’t see from this angle if they’re true to their word about the weapons but there’s a couple boxes I didn’t see when I set up.”

               “Good job, V,” Yoongi said. “Once we get into the building, make your way down and to the back. Pay the two lookouts a visit. Then, keep low in case we need you. I’ll have the in-ear if something comes up. Jimin, you’ll stay with me. Jungkook, you stay a little behind with the package. Everyone just follow my lead and stay alert. Let them think we’re as dumb as Choi likes to think of us. Got it?”

               Yoongi had slid into Suga, the mafia persona he had adapted over the years. Suga was calculative, alert, intimidating to those who didn’t know him, and able to set the world on fire with a turn of phrase. He straightened his red coat and flipped up the hood to block against the cold as he pushed open the door. Jungkook let out a breath, nervous energy still rampant but his drive to succeed against all odd weighted it out. He mumbled a ‘goodbye’ to Taehyung and turned off the car, shoving the keys into his black hoodie’s pocket. He let his gaze wander in the rearview to see Jimin had already slid his rose-tinted glasses he had grabbed before leaving their hideout onto his face and ran his finger through his blonde hair. A bit of his bangs slipped back across one of his eyes. And with that simple gesture, the angelic, mischievous persona had been replaced with a devilish powerhouse one who wouldn’t stop until the job is done. The differences between normal Jimin to gang member Jimin would make anyone wonder if two different people. It still creeped Jungkook out when his hyung’s happy mask would slip when they got into a disagreement. Said hyung noticed Jungkook staring, and those dark eyes melted a bit when the younger’s doe eyes quickly looked away. He smiled a bit and reached for the black bucket hat that Jungkook had thrown into the back seat when they left.

               “Don’t look so worried. We’ll be good,” Jimin said, placing the hat over Jungkook’s long dark hair. The maknae wasn’t entirely sure if Jimin meant that the meeting would well or if that they’d behave. Honestly, he didn’t think it’d matter.

               Suga leaned his head back into the car. “Jimin, why don’t you let our guest out? I’m sure they didn’t appreciate all those pot holes JK decided to hit.”

               JK gave a small smirk as the wickedly, mischievous glint reappeared in Jimin’s eyes. He slid from the back seat and made his way around to the truck. He gave the metal a good kick before opening the hatch, the person inside letting out a surprised yelp as they were yanked out and down to the cold asphalt. The rat was blindfolded, gagged, and bound. He had tried to infiltrate one of their warehouses. He was young and inexperienced, trying to blend in with the new batch of recruits. And he almost went unnoticed, had they not had the best surveillance known to any gang in all of Central. Jimin almost felt sorry for him. Lord knows, he was treated better with them than his own group. But that wasn’t enough for Jimin not to scare him a bit more with a couple good shoves and breathy threats as they made their way through the crisp early morning air towards the uncertainty that lay inside the building.

               With each step towards the towering building, no longer were the three the friendly band of brothers who had spent the two hours driving around, laughing, talking, and singing obnoxiously loud to the radio. With each step, they were the most feared gang to walk the streets of Central since the Royals were in their prime. They were the most powerful group to rise from nothing to the greatest empires in the history of Central.

               They were Bangtan.

[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.”

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 002

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all~ Down the rabbit hole. TW: Teenagers can be the worst. Bullying. Fatphobia. Slut shaming. Cruel boys being cruel boys.

Chapter 2: A Million Dead Stars

   All Evie had to do was wait patiently. For Heather to pop out back and for Billy to swoop in and make his bold move.

   The goofy grin Heather walked back in with did not disappoint. Not at all.

   “Hey, you.” Curls bounced when Evie cocked her head and Heather plopped down with a drink. They tapped red plastic cups.

   “So, I just had an...amazing conversation.”

   “Yeah...?" Evie sang softer. "Pray tell."

   “Just...wow. Billy Hargrove. Him too, huh?”

   “We knew it would happen. He was being way too cool around us at lunch when the guy has been nothing but shitty toward me since moving here. He gave me a ride home, it was obvious. And so…?”

   “Where to start?” Heather put her arm up on the couch and took a long drink, laughing. Pretty in pink girl. “First he brought up Jane Austen. Said they were studying it in English which was a total bluff.”

   “We’re not.” Evie confirmed. “He’s in my second period.”

   "You gave up choir for that specific period with Bowers." Heather recalled more so to herself.

   "No, I just," Evie scrambled, "I just didn't want to do choir anymore. The teacher played favorites. Got sick of it."

   Another longer drink and she went on.

   "So, continue..."

   “He brought up Pride and Prejudice. Which, okay, but Emma is way better.”

   “You’re wrong, but I still love you.” Evie curled up to face her friend. Heather laughed and took her hand, leaned her head on the couch to gather herself in a fit of giggles. 

   “He said Mr. Dancy.”

   “No?” Evie died there. "And I hoped he might learn something."

   “Yes!” Heather smacked at her. Music pumped behind them. Teens roaming and making a mess of the nice mansion. "I felt bad because...I snorted about it. In his face."

   “You know, I’ll give Billy a point. Go on.”

   “Museums. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, I love you...but I’d soon jump into a pit of alligators before going to a museum for a date. Bowling or mini golf please.” Heather was chuckling. “Ballpark hot dogs are way better than cheeseburgers. Popcorn over cheese fries and a damn milkshake? Slushies or nothing. I’m lactose intolerant. He was trying to bore me to death or poison me, Eve.”

   Evie broke to laugh again, barely able to speak.

   “I know! That’s why I suggested all of that.”

   “You bitch.” Heather was giggling still into her shoulder. Hands clasped. They broke to drink. “Oh! And campy action adventure movies or rom-coms only for Heather Holloway. I don’t get why you even go for horror, you wouldn’t hurt a fly and you squirm.”

   “He bombed.” Evie covered her eyes, wiped a tear aside. “I almost pity him.”

   “What’s funny is you like all that stuff. I’m not sure if he was faking it well, but he seemed kinda into most of it.”

   “I’ve been running out of ideas when your followers scramble. Sue me, Heath.” Evie pushed up. “I definitely need another drink.”

   “Fine, fine. Hey,” Heather laced their pinkies together, “teen boys are the worst. Thanks for bouncing another off me. Billy’s cute and all, but hell, I have too much on my plate for a boy right now.”

   “Got that right.” Evie weaved between dancing crowds to the punch bowl. Passed some guy puking into a vase and another group cheering on an arm wrestling match. Spooned herself a full cup. Was mid gulp when she turned to a pair of scathing blue eyes. Oh, Billy.

   “You fucking-”

   “I’m going to stop you right there, Hargrove, and walk that a-way.” She gulped again and passed him.

   “You think that shit’s funny?” Billy had a fistful of her jacket collar. Snarling like a mad dog. "She laughed at me."

   The humiliation of it seemed to make Billy the angriest.

   Evie felt that resonate bitterly because he sounded wounded and oblivious to what life threw her way.

   “Funny? Only after the first ten boys.” She shrugged. “Now it’s just sad. I’m not stupid.”

   “I’d say jerking me around is pretty stupid.” Billy was clearly smashed. Smelling of beer and weed. Eyes red to hell. “Maybe you’re so fucking single and miserable, you make sure your friend stays that way too, huh.”

   Billy knew a nerve was plucked at that by the way she stilled to go colder. Brown eyes molten at him.

   “You don’t know me. You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I think we both know which one of us is miserable. Go show off for the school all you want, you don't fool everyone with those pretty blue eyes.” Evie shoved off him. Wondered if she caught that same frayed nerve.

   "Hey, we got a problem here?" A Hawkins football player towered. Couple of his buddies from other schools that weren't Ridgemont made a barricade between Billy and Evie.

   "I'm talking to Fenny, dickweed. You mind?" Billy spat. Evie huffed and rolled her eyes.

   "You're talking to the girl who kicked Brock Tannen's ass. Show some respect." Another meathead joined in. Evie hid amusement because this was an odd change over the year.

   "Guys, stand down, you really don't have to do this for me." It was...weird. Frankly, Billy looked like he was about to take on all of them.

   The boy in front gave Billy's shoulder a comical brush and they went off like a herd of happy buffalo.

   "The fuck, are you teen royalty somehow?" Hargrove made a face at her tired expression.

   "No, just some lucky idol they keep around. I still get stepped on in the hallway and I pass everyone's love notes for them." Evie sipped. "I don't care that you like Heather, I care that you pretended to be something close to kind with me to get at her."

   "Don't worry, I'm not interesting in being kind to you again." It came out nastier than he meant it too. Alcohol did that to his old man as well. Disgust welled and Billy had nowhere to put it so it flowed out. "No one here gives a shit about what you have to say, Fenny. Don't count on them trying either just because you're some freak they keep around for one sick story. They're all gonna laugh at you."

   Evie blinked a few times. Saw Billy's shoulders sink while they stared into each other, both searching long and hard. Finished her drink in one swig and tossed the cup at his shoes.

   “You fucking insecure asshole, check a mirror in five years and let me know if you like what you see. Not like you even do now, I bet, so enjoy denial. And stay away from me, Hargrove.” She went down the hallway beyond a spiral staircase and almost ran into a huge chest. As if this night couldn't get any worse.

   Fuck.

   Brock Tannen. Poster boy of rich asshole quarterback from their main rival school. Chestnut hair and chiseled good looks covered evil.

   “Fat Fenny. Oh, sorry. Old habit. Evie. Missed you around these parts.” He nursed a can of beer and leaned into the wall. “Go psycho on anyone lately?”

   “The year isn’t over.” She moved to pass him.

   “Look.” He jolted in front of her. “Admittedly, I was a real shithead. I know that now. My folks even got someone for me to talk to. I'm working through all my shit. But, I was an ass to you.”

   “We knew this.” Evie tried to go the other way, but his shoulder blocked her. She caught sight of his chain. A silver playboy bunny charm he loved to show off.

   “Listen, the year is almost up. I want you to know I don’t hold it against you. You went through some shit at home too. Truce?” No response. A beat before his chin lifted. “You never went crying to your slut mother about me. My dad said she sucks the mailman off.”

   "Don't say shit about my mother." Evie was on her toes. Hands clenching.

   "Didn't cry to daddy either, oh...my bad. You can't." Brock's laughter rang sirens around her head. He was begging her to go off again. "Why didn't you tell mommy about me? We almost had fun."

   “You didn’t get far with me if that’s what you mean, you think I’d give you my tears? Just embarrassed that you bat at fat chicks and get turned down. Eat shit, Tannen.” She got around him, staggered away.

   “Maybe I’ll convince you. I just want to be friends. It’s going to be a new year soon.” His voice lingered along the hallways. "Just messing with you cause I like you is all." More chuckles followed.

   Guys like Tannen secretly wanted her. Unobtainable and strange girls who didn’t conform to stupid high school stereotypes, it really pissed people off. Exotic, which was truly the worst word. Evie was easy to fetishize. 

   Billy got over Heather because Evie passed him moments later with his tongue down some Ridgemont girl’s throat.

   The boy was all mouth and hands. Sucked face like a fucking giant squid attacking a ship at sea.

   "Ick. Fucking Cthulhu." She got away from that, drank more to forget.

   Heather pulled her friend into the dancing. Lights blasting all directions. Music pulsed. Couple more drinks and they were stumbling to Heather’s place. Sneaking up the stairs to fall into a queen sized bed.

   “Can’t believe we didn’t wake my parents.” Heather rolled to her front, smudged the pillow with makeup. Evie was on her side snickering. “Hey, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

   “Nothing is wrong.” Brown eyes blinked. Heather nuzzled her pillow and breathed even, searching.

   “You changed last year. After, what happened at home… I know you miss your dad.” Delicate fingertips ran over Evie's arm. Slipped away.

   “He left.”

   Evie remembered coming home from school. He was just gone. Clothes and all. Mona crying at the table. Pictures down. Like he never existed.

   And her mother never really explained why. Just said they had problems and her dad wanted to be with someone else. He never called. Mona cried that day and hasn’t cried since. Evie couldn’t even remember the last thing she said to him. 

   People vanish. They have that power.

   “After...what happened with Tannen. You got all distant with me. I just worry about you a lot.” Heather’s fingers curled into Evie’s sleeve. “Kids are cruel, I don’t understand why. Why they're so mean...”

   “Some people don’t know where to put it when they hate themselves.”

   “I don't think I hate myself. Sometimes I hate that myself isn't enough, you know? Enough to please my parents all the time and enough to help other people out."

   "You're more than enough for me, Heather." Evie heard a sniffle.

   "D-Do you hate yourself?” An airy tone slurred.

   “I don’t know.” Evie sighed. “I’m fine, Heath, I’m happy. I dealt with it.”

   “Happy or pretending to be?” Heather mused, pulling at her hair scrunchie to relieve brown locks. “I just don’t see you a lot, like you’re always with someone else. You never wanted to hang out over the summer.”

   “I’m just busy with stuff, it’s nothing.” Evie peered at the walls plastered in their friendship. Felt every smiling version of herself in those old photographs wince at her lies. Stars exploding in total silence.

   “You’re going to leave Hawkins and sing your songs for people on a stage. You’re going to be world famous and I’ll get to point and say, that’s my best friend.” Heather grinned. “Keep breaking that shell. I can help you.”

   “I’ll try.” Evie scoffed. “You’re so drunk.”

   “I am…” Heather hummed. “Just talk to me, okay? I want you to be so happy again. Like we used to be when we’d go to the park. Play on swing sets.”

   “I won’t shut you out.” She replied as Heather settled, started to snore. “Goodnight, Heath.”

   “M’night.”

** ** **

   Billy was still raging into that night. Stumbled out of a bedroom pulling his tee back on, rooting around for his jacket. Most kids were starting to pass out on floors and couches.

   “Hey, this belong to you?” Brock plucked up leather so Billy snatched it. “Good to see you, Hargrove. You know, they say Hawkins would have finished out the basketball season with the title if you stayed on the team.”

   “They played favorites. Got sick of it.” Billy passed him, lightning a cigarette.

   “Come outside, sit with the guys.” Brock cocked his head, square jaw setting when he smiled.

   “Hey, B.” Tommy was stoned out of his mind. Looked at Billy like he was trying to find him in a haystack. Not with Carol so they must have had some fight. 

   Billy eyed the clear covered pool. Lights played up to touch his face before he plopped into a metal chair. Boys from Hawkins and other schools gathered around a glass table, drinking and shooting the shit. A joint was passed. Mostly rich, sporty types.

   “Hargrove. Hear you’re the Hawkins Keg King. What the hell happened with Harrington?” Brock faked interest, hands clasped.

   “Crashed and burned, man.” Tommy chortled, smacking Billy’s arm.

   “Who?” Just play dumb.

   “Don’t play coy, man, we all know you beat the shit out of him. Knocked the pretty boy down a few pegs.” Brock only grinned there. “So, you’re in the circle now.”

   “Oooh, do I get a medal?” Billy flicked his smoke aside and swiped Tommy’s beer to drink.

   “I like this guy, Hagan.” 

   “We can trust him.” Tommy winked, sitting back.

   “You’re not going to hunt me for sport, are you?” Billy inhaled sharper, unworried. Laughter erupted.

   “It’s funny you say that,” Brock took the floor, “because we are going to let you in on the deepest secret between the high schools. Something that brings all the boys together. Hawkins. Ridgemont. Hill Valley. Bates. We have this little tradition we do between Homecoming and Prom.”

   “Skirt Safari.” Brock’s right hand man chuckled, sucking the joint down. Few boys echoed it with laughter.

   “The hell is that?” Billy drank, shaking his hair out.

   “Some of us guys throw this big dance party. Rent out a nice place in town, pour some good money into a pool.” Brock shrugged. “You take a girl and we vote.”

   “Vote?” Billy puffed. More cruel smiles.

   “Yeah, on which girl is the ugliest beast.” Hyena cackling followed. Billy just stared with his brow raised.

   “Ah...What the fuck is this? Are you joking?”

   “Open season, man.” Another boy chimed in.

   “Walk with me, Hargrove, you have something special about you.” Brock got up, swiped the joint to finish it. Billy looked irritated and followed. Fresh air cleared his head. Behind them, teens chattered. “I think you’ll fit right in here. You live on Cherry Lane, right?”

   “What’s it to you?” Billy chucked the beer aside.

   “Next to that Fenny girl. Kinda cute in her new little outfits if you like something extra to grab onto.” Brock shrugged. Turned from Billy to eye the sky clearing up.

   “Didn’t she beat your ass last year?” A sly grin crossed.

   “Ah, you heard. Rumors have been exaggerated. Just like you and Harrington I’m sure. Getting booted from the team over a tiff.”

   “I left on my own, fuck them.”

   “Fenny had a thing for me and I said no because I was with someone, so she got emotional. Girls are like that. They get attached and upset when we don't give them what they need.” Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She’s untouched, you know, so I heard. Flaunting her shit now and not letting us grab the goods. Asking for it man, but too afraid to follow through. I hate that teasing shit. They say the bookworms are wild in the sack. Bet you that musical girl can sing too.”

   “You obsessed with her now and her little outfits?” That earned Billy a brief heated expression. The boy was more observant than he was given credit for.

   “I just wanted to raise a challenge for you. Get Fenny to go to Skirt Safari as your date. New Years Eve, we’ll give you the address. Kiss her before the clock strikes twelve. She won’t earn you the win, but I’ll bet you money that you can’t get the famous ice queen to go.”

   “Man, this is so fucking stupid.” Billy clearly didn’t fit with this crowd of uppity shits. Heels spun to go.

   “Is three hundred dollars stupid?” Brock watched Billy skid. Blue eyes shifting to see him again. “Ah, I have your attention.”

   “Cash?” Billy could use it. Three hundred would go far for him. Brock Tannen knew that immediately about him.

   “I can show it to you if you like.” Brock displayed his teeth, almost glowing and sharp. “Show us that Hargrove charm and break the unbreakable. If you're the Keg King. Prove it. Let us see you in action.”

   “I take her to the shitty party and you give me three hundred bucks?" Billy asked carefully, eyes darting. "She doesn't have to find out about this vote shit you guys do?”

   “No, not a word from us. I'll even pay your end of the pool as a token. Just an innocent kiss before the ball drops. You don't have to screw her, unless she's your thing. Easy enough?” Brock held out his hand. Billy eyed the campy bunny chain around Tannen’s neck, huffed out his nose.

   Took the offer with a hard expression.

   “Deal.”

** ** **

   Evie rubbed her eyes the next morning and said bye to Heather, raking fingers through curls as she was dropped off. Jacket pulled close while she fumbled for keys and Heather drove off.

   Not even a second after, a blue Camaro was pulling up next door. 

   It was annoying how great Billy looked even with a hangover after a hard night of partying. He stunk of beer and smoke and his hair was ratted, but glowy as always. Evie groaned when he spotted her and got the key in the door.

   “Hey, Evie.” Was that her name he just used? “Hey, wait up.” Boots clicked to hurry toward her house. A stronger hand yanked the front door closed and Billy held his ground there. "Wait a second, I'm trying to talk to you."

   “Aren’t we both too hungover for this?” Already on the defensive. Makeup smeared around her eyes. She turned, applying some chapstick and sighed out. "What?"

   “Look.” Billy pushed his hands into his back pockets, eyes flicking away and back. “It was a dick move. The whole Heather thing.”

   “Yeah.” She waited for him to go on.

   “And I’m…” Sorry? “It was shitty.” He craned down toward her. "The stuff I said, I was fucking wasted."

   "And you're..." She tried to spell the word out with her eyes. Billy blinked innocently.

   "An asshole."

   Evie flattened.

   "Yes, but not what I was...ah, look, it doesn't matter. I was drunk and I jabbed too. And I am...sorry." A shrug before she tried the door again.

   Billy pulled it shut once more like this was a game, earning a sigh of irritation.

   "I'm still talking at you. I was...I am...a shithead." He couldn't wrap his squid tongue around a fucking apology. Christ.

   Evie looked expectantly, leaning in as if more should come.

   Billy sucked at this so he decided to jump right in.

   “I wanted to make it up to you. There’s this dance up in the city. Real bar. Real drinks. New Years Eve bash. Go with me.” It sounded like an order.

   “Go with you?” She blinked in shock. Grew pointed. “Ah, no, Billy.” Evie got her front door open again and pushed by him. Wondered if he was used to rejection in any form. So, she pushed pride aside. “But, Heather thinks you’re cute okay. Just ask her. It’s fine.”

   She got around the door and hid half behind it. Billy’s hand went flat to stop it from shutting.

   “I don’t want to ask Heather, I’m asking you.” He shrugged with big eyes. Bet ladies fell for it. Evie searched him, beyond confused. She hated confusion. It was too much. “You’re single, it’s this or some lame ass high school party.”

   He noted she opened her mouth and decided not to protest the single part. The hesitation was odd.

   "I...I happen to like lame ass high school parties." She stammered out.

   "Oh, sure." He winked.

   "Y-Yeah, I just love them actually because kids our age are very stupid. It's better than public television."

   "Right. Right." He sounded not convinced.

   "And, you're Billy Hargrove so any girl will jump at the chance, just ask-"

   “I’m asking you, Angel. Deal with it.” He lowered his tone and got closer. Flashed a darling smile then bit his lip. Slid that tongue over it. "Don't make me beg. You know I will."

   “You...I… Look, I’m...flattered but, I can’t. I, uh, have a thing.” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry.” The door shut.

   Billy gave this growl low in his throat. 

   “We have time, Fenny, I’m fine asking again.” His voice picked up. Silence. "All you gotta do is nod that pretty head of yours."

   Billy knew she heard it. He turned and dropped the grin when he spotted Max there on the sidewalk, skateboard in hand. Watching.

   "Are you asking Evie out?" She narrowed on him.

   "Mind your fucking business, shitbird." Billy stepped off the porch. "She's going to a party with me."

   "Sounded like she just said no to you."

   Billy swerved to get angry. Remembered a nail bat crashing between his legs. Shut his mouth.

   "Whatever." A puff.

   "She's nice," Max trailed after him, "you should, you know...ask her to something if you... She's cool. Cooler than you."

   He slowed, eyebrow raising.

   "Doesn't matter."

   "It's Saturday." Max explained, red hair catching the sunlight to flame up.

   "I know what day it is, Max, leave me alone." Billy was going up toward their house.

   "She probably said no because you stink so bad."

   "What the fuck?" He wheeled around again, chest puffing.

   Max smirked at him and Billy found himself matching it. Bold little shit.

   "I know what I said. And it's Saturday, that means she'll probably be helping her mom at that salon later. You should shower and show up. Girls like spontaneous stuff, it's thoughtful and you suck at that."

   Billy scrunched at her.

   "Since when do you care about...?"

   "About what?" She shuffled there on the grass. Peered at Neil's car in the driveway. "We're family now whether we like it or not. Which means I'm stuck looking out for you. Right, Billy?" Max dropped her skateboard, popping it up with one foot. "I like Evie and I don't want my brother being a jerk to her. Or anyone."

   Billy scoffed, near amused.

   "Right." He grumbled. Went up and paused to turn once more. "Max."

   "Yeah?" She readied to ride off.

   "Watch the board around my damn car, will you?" Billy heard her snort. "I got shit to do now, stay out of the way."

   "Take a shower and show up. Try asking instead of telling. See what happens." Max rode off with a clatter of wheels on concrete. He only shook his head again. Smiled to himself without thinking before he went in.

   Billy decided to take the advise on all accounts. She'd go with him.

   Certainty crept the more he looked at himself in the mirror and applied his aftershave. Maybe he forced the feeling so often, it was second nature. Fuck, looking at his reflection was never this difficult. Evie's words rang harder this morning.

   He didn't blame her for once.

   All these false fronts Billy showed the world. Old photographs flashing like a million dead stars. That was all we ever saw of them. Somewhere else, Evie heard those same stars dying too. Decayed and twinkling too pretty even still. It sounded almost like a cruel fate.

   A tongue swept over his lips before he tried something new. Eyes averting to speak quietly like someone might hear. Fingers twisting the silver ring about his middle finger.

   "Sorry."

   He resumed fixing his curls. Polished up that Hargrove charm until it shined bright.

   What Evangeline Fenny didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her, Billy reasoned.

   Right?

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, chat with me if you have time! Tried to push another chp out quick. Imma pass out now XOXO TAGGED: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​  

[believerindaydreams]

I was not expecting to channel Tuco Ramirez energies into a young pregnant hatmaker but Carla has very promptly become the sardonic loveable glue in this ongoing ball of poly!energies

This'll all show up on a03, properly edited. Eventually.

Into the fire, part 3

"He's scared stiff," Carla says, looking at Arcade sleep. "I mean, literally stiff. Look at how tightly his hands are clenched."

She fluffs a pillow to put under his head and I'm falling in love with her all over again, just to see her. That calm, sure way she moves, the sparkle of earrings she ground herself from broken beer bottles. Utter self-confidence wrapped in a hand-knit shawl.

"He's not as important as you. Nobody could be."

She snorts. It's cute. "You keep thinking you need to surrender something for me. That's not true and it never has been."

"Might be this time. Uh- we weren't planning to stay in the Mojave. What with him both of us being marked by Legion assassins, a friend of ours was gonna help us get out."

"Ooh. Friend friend, or-" She gestures, disgracefully. Makes me bark with laughter.

"No. Dyed in the wool lesbian. On the outs with the Brotherhood...she says she can get us cross-country. I don't know if it's by Vertibird or what, but if she says she can do it, she can."

"Are you sure she's trustworthy?" Hell, just the way she wrinkles her nose half kills me. Manny used to tease me about the way I'd keep on about her.

That was before he met her, though. "Yeah. If she wanted us dead, she had plenty of chances she didn't take. And we didn't tell her anything about...you know."

"I still say we need a better way to refer to that." A big smile appears. "Maybe we could say baby names. That's personal but not strange in a conversation."

I run my hands along the inviting bump of dress; she's pretty far along now. "What happens when the baby's born, though?"

"We can say we're planning for the next one." She laughs, pins my arms back in a bear hug; and I don't mind a bit. "But hey. If you were planning to go, let's go. God knows I'm hardly stuck on this two-bit town."

Whatever that means. Her Vault had some funny expressions. "I'd like to say it'd be safer to stay put...but honestly, it wouldn't be. Not while I'm still here."

"And I am not letting you wander off without me," Carla says, cupping my chin in her hands. "Bad things will happen. I want you where I can see you."

"...okay. Then I guess we'd better pack. Your sewing machine is under the bed."

"Not anymore," Carla says, tapping a footlocker with her bare toes. "Manny fetched it for me, all the way to Arizona and back."

"Guess I wasn't up to much compared to him, was I."

"Listen," Carla says, her small face suddenly turning intensely serious. "You're here, I'm here, Manny is here. And your new boyfriend. We're all alive, that's what matters."

She makes me blush, sometimes; and it doesn't help when Manny comes out of the bath, drying his hair with a towel and butt naked otherwise.

"Damn. Your Arcade looks cute curled up like that."

"He says it's a habit. Bedrolls aren't ever long enough for him."

"I can fix that with my magic sewing machine," Carla says, grinning dryly. "And I'll make him a hat. That's an important order of business."

"Don't know what I did, to deserve you two...look. You're sure you're okay, him coming along?"

"Would you be here if he hadn't helped you?"

"...no."

"Then let's bring him," Carla says conclusively.

"If it's good enough for your wife," Manny says with a wink, "it's good enough for me. Besides. That ass."

"Definitely one of the more shapely asses populating this wasteland," Carla agrees, straight faced.

"Fuck...you two don't talk about me that way when I'm asleep, do you?"

Manny gives me a patient look. "Don't be stupid, Boone."

"Huh."

"Of course we do."

***

It's ridiculously late by the time Arcade wakes up; and he has a pretty good idea why. There's a part of him that never quite feels safe falling asleep, without the hum of conversation and a trustworthy guard around; and he hasn't really had that since the Old Mormon Fort.

(Avoided going places for exactly that reason, if he's being honest. He's still never seen the Strip.)

He looks at the Sierra armor, frowns, puts on light doctor fatigues instead. It's hot already, that's a fair excuse.

Manny's asleep on a spare mattress, but there's no sign of the other two. He heads out and finds Carla cooking at the motel campfire, a tired Boone besides her.

"Oh good," she says when he approaches, poking her husband. "Boone, go to bed. Someone else is here to play bodyguard."

"Mmm...'s Manny?"

"No, it's Arcade. Go to bed."

He grunts and goes, slightly to Arcade's surprise. Carla looks after him fondly.

"They always were a little paranoid, even when we thought Novac was safe. And it wasn't really good for them, being on opposite shifts...they missed each other." She shoves beans around in a cast iron pan, takes the lid off a milk crate filled with tortillas. "Would you enjoy a burrito for breakfast? Or I can just give you some caps to buy from Cliff, if pre-war food's more your thing."

Right. After being taken as a slave and then dumped into a pre-war casino he is in fact broke right now, at least until he and Boone split the pre-war money stashed in the room. "Burritos sound fine. Trust me, you don't have the luxury of choosiness at the Old Mormon Fort, it's too chaotic."

"Sounds terrible. But then I'm a luxury hatmaker and I enjoy what I do, I'm probably the last person who'd understand charitable impulses." She places a tortilla on a grill to warm. "It did seem simpler in the vault, when we used lotteries and left morality out of it...my other vices include overpacking, an impatience with village idiots who think that three cornfields equal New Vegas, and I will bite you if you hurt Boone or Manny. Hard. Just getting that out of the way upfront."

"Ah." He's been expecting something like this conversation, but had rather expected he'd have to go first. "Um. I'm a poor liar, despite being privy to more secrets than I ever wanted to know. I seem to have mislaid an inherent pacifism in favor of wanting to shoot any Legionary I see, which despite Boone's opinion I can't really see as an improvement. And despite my ostensible position with the Followers, my medical capabilities leave almost as much to be desired as my bedside manner."

"You seemed to handle it well when my husband passed out."

"Battlefield medicine is one of the things I can do, yes. Along with making broc flowers grow anywhere and boiling homemade bagels."

" ...actual bagels? You're hired. Damn shame no NCR caravan imports lox yet, Boone took me to Shady Sands for our honeymoon and that's the only time I've had it...do you want to make bagels? Do you need ingredients?"

"Uh. I would need to buy a few things, yes, and it would take time to grow a new culture." He thinks with a mild pang of the last sourdough he had going, left unattended in a Followers tent. Hopefully someone found it before it started to smell. "What I mostly did for the Followers was garden, actually. We've figured out ways to emulate stimpaks with herbs, but they always put the subject in a fever, and there are ailments that's contra-indicated for. And of course nobody wants that on a battlefield...except the Legion, apparently, they don't seem to care."

"A crafter rather than a soldier. I'm not outnumbered anymore, that's great news." She has buck teeth and it shows when she smiles. "Honestly, I've had to become a regular Crusoe just because the boys aren't. Want them to turn any kind of ammunition into any other kind, they'll do that for you. Anything else, it's strictly DIY." She forks a piping hot burrito onto a plate, hands it to him. "There's sour yoghurt in the fridge if you prefer topping."

"Mmm...this is fine." Better than fine, actually, there's grilled iguana in the mix and a hint of jalapeno. "You've read Crusoe?"

"Oh, we had education machines in the vault, they worked great. Mr Gutsy reading your ABCs to you and blasting radroaches...we were happy." She starts on her own burrito, looking a little pensive. "I'll never forgive Mr House for that, never. Half the kids my age ended up in the Gomorrah turning tricks for sleazeballs, a lot of the others signed up for the NCR and died right away at Hoover Dam...there was a rumor going around," Carla says, a little vicious now. "That House cut a deal with the NCR, so many warm bodies in exchange for not appropriating the Strip. I'd believe it, but then I'd believe anything of the bastard."

Arcade nods, mentally notes one more vice: Carla, for all her sunny disposition, certainly can hold a grudge.

But then, she is Boone's wife; not entirely surprising. "So you got to Novac and hoped it would be home sweet home?"

"If such a place exists, it isn't here," Carla says; and violently pokes out the fire.

[dylinski]

do 1-100, coward

I AM NO COWARD

anyone who actually reads through all this, god bless you. you can blame leigh @thessaia, i give you full authority.

1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

of those three, pandora. although, i prefer apple music.

2. is your room messy or clean?

LMFAO. CLEAN? I DON’T KNOW HER

3. what color are your eyes?

brown, but they’re lighter than that in the right light. almost a caramel with a dark chocolate ring on the outside.

4. do you like your name? why?

yeah, i don’t mind it. its always been there. lol i mean i used to have different nicknames or pretend to be other people. idk i told my parents when i was like five i was going to change my name to Felicia Franchesca Sarahmichelle Lynn. don’t ask. in fifth grade (before dylan o’brien was even famous) i begged my parents to call me dylan and refused to respond to any other name for like a year. also, don’t ask.

5. what is your relationship status?

single as dingle

6. describe your personality in 3 words or less

CHAOTIC, SMARTASS, STABBY

7. what color hair do you have?

answered

8. what kind of car do you drive? color?

kia forte, although my dad calls it an orte since the “f” is missing. funny story, i  got pulled over and gave the dude my license and registration and shit but apparently, he didn’t look at it cause he put on the warning “orte” which i promptly laughed my ass off to. if he had given me a ticket i could have absolutely fought that bitch in court in won. SIR I DO NOT DRIVE AN ORTE. IS THAT ITALIAN? DO I LOOK LIKE I CAN AFFORD AN ITALIAN CAR? I DRIVE A FORTE SIR.

9. where do you shop?

ONLINE

10. how would you describe your style?

very idgaf

11. favorite social media account

tumblr

12. what size bed do you have?

full, it takes up my entire room so i couldn’t go bigger if i wanted to

13. any siblings?

answered

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

uk, always wanted to live there idk

15. favorite snapchat filter?

idk what its called but it has this higher temperature tone to it and gives me cute little freckles

16. favorite makeup brand(s)

i don’t wear make up, i used to use stilla (i think that’s how its spelled)

17. how many times a week do you shower?

i usually shower like every other day unless its hotter than a pair of saggy tits

18. favorite tv show?

that changes with the weather tbh. i can’t say i really have one. for a really long time it was supernatural though.

19. shoe size?

womans 11.5 (us) i think its a men’s 9?

20. how tall are you?

5′ 3″ or 160cm

21. sandals or sneakers?

sneakers. god i hate sandals.

22. do you go to the gym?

uh, no.

23. describe your dream date

answered

24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

thats funny cause normally i don’t carry cash but i actually have $20 atm

25. what color socks are you wearing?

im not wearing any atm

26. how many pillows do you sleep with?

answered x2

27. do you have a job? what do you do?

not technically? i’m an hourly temp but i hardly get any hours since i cover for the full-time employee.

28. how many friends do you have?

irl: 0    online: too many to count

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done?

oh god, i honest to god have no fucking clue. i don’t think about this stuff. i’ve done some stupid ass shit but my short term and long term memory are both shot to tits.

30. whats your favorite candle scent?

i think i answered this one for a different ask game. i hate most fragrances and artificial smells, even non-artifical ones. i got a sensitive sniffer. im chill with like vanilla though if its not too intense.

31. 3 favorite boy names

Dylan (not even cause dylan i’ve just always liked the name idk why), Jeremy, Jacob (the other two are random)

32. 3 favorite girl names

i know these are random as fuck, but i’ve always liked them so shoot me.

Andromeda, Persephone, Franchesca

33. favorite actor?

i like a lot of actors, way too many to fucking name and remember off the top of my noggin. for sanity’s sake, we’ll say dylan.

34. favorite actress?

god, again way too many to count. i can’t even think of any right now even though i know i have some. lets say Emily Hampshire

35. who is your celebrity crush?

answered36. favorite movie?

answered37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?

i would love to read but my adhd makes it really hard to concentrate. i’ll have periods of time where i’ll read a bunch its insane and then i’ll just kind of stop for a while idk. i always loved because of win-dixie or a wrinkle in time, bridge to terabithia, and american assassin.

38. money or brains?

brains, then you can work for the money and you know shit

39. do you have a nickname? what is it?

sawahbwear, sassafras, whiskey, sar

40. how many times have you been to the hospital?

good lord, i don’t even know. way too many. definitely more than ten.

41. top 10 favorite songs

answered42. do you take any medications daily?

not anymore, i kept forgetting to take them so it fucked me up not being on a regular dosage so i just stopped taking all of them.

43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

see, im weird af. cause like my skin is oily af, but also fucking dry and i have shitty eczema 44. what is your biggest fear?

answered45. how many kids do you want?

idfk. i mean for as long as i can remember i always wanted them, but tbh idk if im the type of person to have any…

46. whats your go to hair style?

messy bun

47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)

small, row house

48. who is your role model?

dont have one.

49. what was the last compliment you received?

probably from michelle i think, or alaina. idk i don’t keep track. unless you consider kiana calling me insane a compliment. 🤷‍♀️

50. what was the last text you sent?

“thankies”

51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

tbh, i don’t think i ever thought he was real…pretty sure i could put in time out in preschool for making a kid cry cause i told them leprechauns weren’t real either.

52. what is your dream car?

mustang or challenger

53. opinion on smoking?

conflicted

54. do you go to college?

disappointingly

55. what is your dream job?

no clue

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

rural, but still close enough to shit it doesn’t take me an hour to go places.

57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

haven't been to a hotel in a long ass time. i do but i never use them.. FREE SHIT

58. do you have freckles?

yeah, but you can’t see them unless i’ve been outside in the sun all day for hours.

59. do you smile for pictures?

relatively

60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?

5604

61. have you ever peed in the woods?

yup, and in a parking lot, and in public.🤙

62. do you still watch cartoons?

i hardly watch tv anymore, but if i did, fuCK YEAH

63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

WNEDYS ALL DAY ERRY DAY THE RED HEADED BITCH IS MY HOE OKAY

64. Favorite dipping sauce?

ew, no.

65. what do you wear to bed?

tshirt

66. have you ever won a spelling bee?

answered

67. what are your hobbies?

writing, coding, listening to music??, reading

68. can you draw?

NOPE

69. do you play an instrument?

also no

70. what was the last concert you saw?

like two years ago, circa survive with thrice and a third band idr

71. tea or coffee?

neither

72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

neither

73. do you want to get married?

idk

74. what is your crush’s first and last initial?

DO

75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?

idk, part of me wants to but most of me doesnt want to

76. what color looks best on you?

i look good in all colors except white.

77. do you miss anyone right now?

yeah

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?

closed cause i still live at home 😖 but if i didnt probably open so my cat could come and go as he pleased

79. do you believe in ghosts?

ghosts, no. spirits, yes.

80. what is your biggest pet peeve?

answered

81. last person you called

my dad

82. favorite ice cream flavor?

mint choco chip

83. regular oreos or golden oreos?

damn, regular.

84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

RAINBOW BITCHES

85. what shirt are you wearing?

supernatural. dean and sam with baby

86. what is your phone background?

mitch rapp

87. are you outgoing or shy?

im an ambivert

88. do you like it when people play with your hair?

FUCKING YES

89. do you like your neighbors?

the ones on the right are bearable and the ones on the left can fuck off with their insane semen demons

90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

neither, but i should.

91. have you ever been high?

nope

92. have you ever been drunk?

answered

93. last thing you ate?

hot dog

94. favorite lyrics right now

answered

95. summer or winter?

fall

96. day or night?

night

97. dark, milk, or white chocolate?

dark

98. favorite month?

umm, august? idk

99. what is your zodiac sign

aquarius

100. who was the last person you cried in front of?

i don’t remember, it’s been a really long time since i cried in front of someone.

[ill-skillsgard]

Dirty Demons, Part 2 - Axel Cluney/Zeitgeist

Title: Dirty Demons

Description: It's nice to have a companion on the road to total self-destruction - a continuation of Sweet Demons

Warning: 18+ for sex/language/violence/drugs/kinks of all sorts etc.

A/N: Fun Fact: This part has one of my favourite smut scenes in it that I have ever written, for some reason.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A wicked sense of déjà vu hit me hard when I sat across the table from Axel at a breakfast grill a few miles down the road from the Four's clubhouse. I sipped my black coffee out of a white china mug and watched him cut through a stack of maple syrup-doused pancakes using a fork of questionable cleanliness. He had complained to the server about the table syrup and had her bring him a dozen packets of what he dubbed "the only real syrup. None of that twenty-five percent less sugar bullshit." His green eyes flitted about as he chewed and avoided my stare. It had been a long two years since the weekend we met but when I sat back and sighed I felt like no time had passed at all. He looked the same, sounded the same, carried himself the same and even smelled the same though he insisted nothing about him was the same as I remembered. I ate a bowl of fruit and the orange slice that had come on Axel's plate as garnish. He tossed it into my bowl, complaining that citrus gave him heartburn. It had been a long time since I had had anything to eat that wasn't deep-fried or came frozen in a vacuum-sealed package. I picked away at my strawberries, melon, and bananas while he scarfed down his pancakes. The tinkling of cutlery and plates filled the atmosphere but not the tension that sat like its own entity on our table, grinning at us, forcing our heads together encouragingly. An hour prior he had been calling me 'mommy' and begging me to make him come. Now we were sitting adjacent to each other with nothing to say. There was much I wanted to discuss with him. So many questions burned inside my chest begging for answers. I didn't want to seem pushy but then again, he had this hold on my curiosity and I figured since he had bailed on me without a shred of an explanation that I had some sort of entitlement to answers. After all, he had tracked me down voluntarily which was a pledge to his devotion. It made me hate myself to inwardly admit that I missed him. I missed the hell out of him. When I sat there across from him and watched his mouth move or his eyes wander I couldn't help myself. I wanted him. I had spent nights by myself in recollection of how he had come into my life like a storm on a motorbike and shook me down for sex, destroyed the driveway and caused a rift in what would have been another normal, drunken Friday the Thirteenth. How could I possibly forget someone as chaotic as Axel Cluney? Even then in the restaurant, people stared at him with curiosity. He was equal parts eye-catching as he was menacing. He was suave and liquidy and partial to clothes that had seen as many years on the road as he had. A rockstar with no band. His instrument was his bike and he played it well. "Are we really just going to sit here in silence?" I asked, pulling his attention from his plate to my face. "Are you really only going to eat a fucking fruit salad? You're going to need to keep your strength up if you're going to ride with me, baby girl. And I mean that in more ways than one." I popped a red grape into my mouth and scoffed at the same time, "I see that you're still rude as fuck." "Yeah, I know. But so are you. Look at you, all squirmy in your seat. Bet I can tell you exactly what you're thinking right now. That's how fucking in tune with your body and mind I am," he pointed two fingers at his right temple like a gun. "Try me." "Well, right now you're remembering how good I fucked you earlier because you can still feel it. You're also dying to ask me to explain everything to you, isn't that right? You want to know so badly, don't you? It's eating you alive. I can see it. Your eyes don't lie well to me." I shrugged to stave off his suspicion that I was anything but indifferent to the history of the two years spent apart. Inside I cursed because he was right. "Of course, I'm curious. You told me you would come back and it took you two years to make good on your promise. Do you know how much shit can happen in two years? What if I had gotten married and had forgotten all about you?" Then it was Axel's turn to scoff at me, "you wouldn't. You would never." "You don't actually know me that well," I casually reminded him. "The only person that you could possibly picture yourself getting married to is sitting right across from you now. You wouldn't have married anyone... not without tracking me down first," Axel claimed. I blinked at him in awe for a moment as he pushed around the last scraps of his food through a pool of syrup still left on his plate before opening his mouth and shoveling it in. He leaned over the table and laughed at me, looking cheeky with his eyes squinted as he chewed and nudged my boot with the toe of his own underneath the table. "You're fucked," I snickered. Axel wiped his mouth with a white paper napkin, crumpled it and tossed it onto his sticky plate, pushed the dish aside and leaned back with hands clasped behind his head. He was positively pleased with himself and it dawned on me that he could have been the most arrogant son-of-a-bitch I had ever met in my life. "You gonna eat your cantaloupe?" He asked. "No." "Good. Let's pay and get the fuck out of here then." Axel wrapped his arm around me as we walked from the restaurant with full stomachs and smiles that were hard to hide. When he let me go and circled around his bike I had to have a better look at him and all of his leg, tattooed arms, slicked back hair and the shadow of a black eye that stayed as a reminder to others that he wasn't a man that cruised through life easily. He was so far from normal it almost felt like I was walking through a thick film into a world from a dream I had long forgotten. A dream I had given up on. During the ride back to the clubhouse I had time to think about what Axel said about me never being able to be with anyone but him and as much as it knifed me in the side to admit it, I knew he was right. There was nobody else but him. He rode up beside me on the road, nodded and sped up to pass. I watched the back of his bike through my visor and smirked as he sped up, taking advantage of the sprawling empty pavement. When we pulled up we drew the attention of a few men that were posted up around their bikes in a front lot of the clubhouse. Apparently whatever they had been talking about wasn't as important as them getting a good look at us. Axel chugged in before me, doing the stupid thing and roaring up right beside the group that had their eyes on us. I didn't recognize any of them but they had D4T patches which told me that they would be friendly once they found out who I was. I swung in beside Axel and by the time I turned off the engine and dismounted Axel was already approached. "Real fruity looking chopper you got there," one of the men said to Axel. I tore off my helmet and jogged over to intercept the conversation, "hey Axe, let's just go find Roy so we can get out of here, yeah?" "What's a little kitten like yourself trying to find the boss so quickly for? Don't you know there are a couple of levels to get through first?" A man with one broken front tooth and a head full of greasy salt and pepper hair asked me. "Read the fucking patches, dipshit," was the first thing out of Axel's mouth. "You're talking to the new owner of Motorcity." "Oh yeah? Is that so? Well, then who the fuck are you because you certainly don't look like anybody I've ever heard of." "He's with me," I declared though it didn't seem to make a difference to any of them, especially not Axel. "You not so good at reading, mister? I said read the patches," Axel sneered. "Zeitgeist. Yeah! What the fuck's a Zeitgeist, huh?" "Oh! I have heard of you! You're the fucking freak deserter from the Sweets, ain'tcha?" "I didn't desert shit." "Yeah, yeah, yeah! You did! I remember Calvin talking about some faggot on a green bike that supposedly swallows acid and spits it back up. Made a big fucking mess of some guy's face down in Florida and went nomad on the Sweets. By the rules, you're lucky I'm not unloading a clip into your deserter fuckin' brain right now!" My eyes must have gone wide enough to cut through the clambering hostility of the situation. I watched as hands reached behind backs to be ready at the trigger and felt my stomach twist with dread. If what they said about Axel being a deserter was true then by the rules any patched member of an affiliated charter was obligated to detain him or shoot and ask questions later. "Everyone just calm the fuck down, right now! I'll decide what happens to him! Do you even know who my father is?" "You mean was. Last I heard Al was dead and there's been a spat about the rightful heir. That don't make you no president though, sweetie. Hate to burst your sexy little bubble but the only person that has a say over this piece of shit acid-eating freak motherfucker is Max Sweet." "You're a fucking idiot, Max Sweet is practically my brother! Where the fuck do you think we're going? I'm bringing him back to Motorcity." "You trying to make me believe that a little girl like yourself is escorting this giant, wall-eyed fruitcake all the way across the country? Do you think I'm stupid? He could turn around and beat your ass and leave you on the side of the road to die. Now, now honey, you leave the escortin' to the boys with the guns." Axel clenched his fists not because he was going to swing but because he knew that if he made one move towards them there would be three gun barrels pointed at him. I had to do something quickly or else Axel could have been executed right in front of me without a moment of hesitation. The only violence I had ever witnessed was back home and it was usually drunken fights on the Thirteenth but I had never witnessed a gun actually being drawn. "I want a parlay right now with your president! RIGHT NOW! You can call Max Sweet and he'll tell you to back off and let me take my deserter back to our own charter!" The three men stared at me and for a moment I half expected them all to burst out laughing at me trying to pull a rank card and the tension grew thick enough to make me start sweating beneath my leather. Of course, I was lying. Max Sweet had no idea where I was and according to the new revelations, he didn't know where Axel was either. They could have easily called me on my bluff but I felt the deflation take hold and they began to realize that there was the potential for a war to start if any of them harmed us. "Yeah, that's right. I'm here to talk to Roy! Like I fucking said! Axel! Let's go, now!" I yelled. Axel beamed at me and hopped to my command almost instantly. The rest of them gawked and gaped but I wasn't finished. With a brand new sense of courage, I strolled up to the asshole with the greasy hair and the Captain Hook nose and pointed my finger in his face. "If you ever call me sweetie or talk to any fucking woman like that and I find out about it, I'll have your fucking balls and that's a damn promise. You think you knew Al and how he rolled? Well, I'm ten times fucking worse." Crunching the gravel down with my boot as I spun around, I walked towards the front doors of the clubhouse with Axel quick to follow. When we were far enough away he scoffed at me and nudged me with his elbow. "Holy fuck, mama. That was a boss fucking move! That was so hot, holy shit." "How about you shut the fuck up too, deserter." I snapped at him as I pulled open the door and entered without so much as glancing at him. If Axel really was a deserter than this all had the potential to become extremely volatile. I was in danger just by being around him if what they said were true. I had to get the information I needed from Roy and then bolt the hell out of there before any bad word got around that I was pretending to be part of the Sweet Demons. In reality, I had nothing to do with the actual club and was more of a legal landlord to the property that housed the original clubhouse. These days it had become more of a landmark or tourist attraction and much less of a place where any club business went down. I had made sure of that. Roy was in the club meeting room at the head of the table on a cellphone that looked comically tiny in his massive mitt of a hand. He motioned for me to wait as he ended his phone call gruffly. In front of him were three other cell phones of varying levels of archaism. They must have been burner phones because I hadn't witnessed anyone voluntarily using a  flip phone in over a decade. "Angel! Good morning. Who's this that you've got with you?" "My... Boyfriend. Listen, Roy, I'm really in a rush to get moving. Please tell me you found something for me. Anything." Roy sighed and shook his big tattooed head, running his animal balloon fingers over the skin and then down the front of his beard. "Kid, it's hard to say. Your ma pretty much ghosted everybody. All I could find out is that she had been in a trailer park in Mumby. Whether she was stopping in or living there is another guess. One of my guys says he was up there at Lovesick Park for some party and recognized her from back in the day at the rallies. He didn't say much to her though and took off the next day." "Where the fuck is Mumby?" I asked. "Way the hell up North. You're talking sixteen hours and across the border." Usually, the idea of riding another day exactly the way I had come from would drive me to the brink of tears but I looked over at Axel and saw the perfect riding partner. We hadn't even left and I already started enjoying the thought of getting on our bikes and ripping off together. Even though he had a lot of explaining to do, for some reason I was looking forward to the argument. "Roy... Thank you. Honestly. I'm so glad I came to you. And thanks for everything. You've been a huge help." "You're welcome to stay another night if you want to. It's nothin' to me." "No. I can't. Thank you though. I really appreciate everything. You've done more than enough for me... More than you needed to." He nodded and the lines in his boxing glove face wrinkled up as he smiled. "Anything for Al. That man changed the game." Axel followed me out of the meeting room once my business with Roy was concluded and upstairs so I could shove all of my things back into my knapsack. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The risk of one of those guys deciding to follow up on my bluff was so high I was tasting copper at the back of my throat. "Angel... Slow down. Can we like... Talk for a second?" Axel pulled at my elbow. "Oh, so now you want to talk, do you? Now that your element of surprise was blasted wide open and you no longer have a piece of juicy meat to dangle in front of me? Yeah. You're a deserter and I could get my ass killed for defending you!" "I'm not a fucking deserter! I swear to God. Max knows!" "Knows what? Knows that you abandoned your charter after something happened in Florida? Were you going to tell me that? Or were you going to keep your dirty secrets all to yourself and dole them out like little fucking dog treats to me? Fuck you, Axel. If you're going to ride with me you better fucking tell me everything!" "I will! I am! I was... Fuck! I was obviously going to tell you. I didn't expect the three fucking homophobes outside to call me out in the fucking parking lot!" Wrenching open the drawer I had dumped my clothes into, I tossed him a glare and began hauling out everything by the fistful, shoving it all haphazardly into my bag. Once I had all of my effects in order, I slung the bag onto my shoulder and came up in front of Axel who had been standing at the door watching me with panic heavy in his eyes. "Hey! Hey... Listen to me," his voice softened and he reached out to touch my face but I dodged him. He didn't much like being denied the touch so he took one step closer to me and did that thing where he peered down menacingly like a bird of prey from on high. "Angel... I said I was going to tell you everything and I meant it. Why the fuck do you think I drove for days just to find your ass?" "To fuck up my life and get me killed?" "Maybe! Just maybe! But not today! Not right after I finally found you. Like... months down the road or maybe even years I'd do something stupid enough to get us both shot." "Yeah, well, I just lied right to their faces. I'm no fucking VP. I literally have no pull with the Sweets by the rules. If Roy finds out that you're actually a deserter and I'm taking you anywhere besides straight to Max, then guess how many people are going to be on our asses?" "Four fucking thousand?" "That's right." "Well... Maybe you shouldn't have lied then," he had the gall to admonish me. "I just saved your ass, Axel!" He put his hands on my shoulders and swayed me around playfully. "Because you love me. You looove me! I am your boooyfriend! You even saaaid so!" Axel continued to tease me through song and I turned bright red. "That was... Another lie! You're not my boyfriend. You've only been back in my life for half a day and shit has already hit the fan!" The tall, tattooed, dancing idiot gripped my face and bore into my eyes with his. "It's because we have so much chemistry, isn't it? We're just a couple of matches ready to get dragged down that strip called road." "Man... You are a fucking fruitcake." ~*~ We managed to pull out of the clubhouse parking lot unscathed by angry bikers that would never pass up an opportunity to uphold the outdated laws of the road. I had to admit that I had never been so excited to get back on my bike with my helmet on and my backpack straps pulled tightly around my shoulders. Even though the sun was starting to peek out from the smokey grey clouds and warm up the pavement, I donned my tight, custom leather jacket that had been made especially for me by a woman that frequented the Thirteenth rallies. She was a leatherworker by trade and an artist by passion so naturally, every line, seam, and stitch of the jacket was handmade lovingly with great attention. It was my most favourite article of clothing because I had her embroider my dad's riding name above the left breast pocket. All covered from helmet to sunglasses to facemasks, jackets, jeans and boots we rode along the right of the road until we hit wide open cement and took advantage of the long sprawling landscape to ride side by side. You could see for a mile in every direction and it was all fields and farmland for a little while until we cut through the country and ended up right in the middle of a city that was bustling with afternoon traffic. Axel had fallen a few spots back but I could see him in my mirrors. He looked like a mantis seated on a threatening viridian horse that never stopped snarling with his big black round sunglasses and his acid-green bandana tied around the lower half of his face. I had to laugh to myself and shake my head. Axel was not a subtle man and every detail about him screamed something in your face on purpose. He was such a blight of green and holy shit that people liked to honk their horns in tribute and children stared with their sticky hands and faces planted on the windows of their parent's SUVs. I knew that my appearance was no more modest than his. During the first year of Axel's absence, I had poured myself into building the bike that I had started with my dad when I was twelve. It was supposed to be a pink crotch-rocket that suited my size completely but after my mom had left us I didn't want to have anything to do with bikes ever again. The incomplete machine got covered up and put in the back of the garage to remind my father and myself that some things just exist to remain incomplete. By the time we dragged it out, it was a relic of our strained past but also a token to our relationship. Despite all of his flaws and tarnished legal record, one thing remained certain; he had been the best father anyone could ever ask for. It became obvious as we took the bike apart that an update would have to be in order. I didn't want a speedy little sleek bike. I wanted a beefy, crawling candy pink chopper with obnoxiously high handlebars and blazing chrome details on every inch possible. I wanted her to be fast but comfortable and we spared no expense on parts. She was made of the finest metal a biker and his kid could procure. Gazing down at my gas meter, I noticed that I was getting really low and I signaled to Axel that we needed to gas up. We slithered slowly through the cramped city streets, thrumming loudly between lanes of people trying to get back to work after lunch. It took a while for us to come up to a gas station but it was out of the main knot of the city and close to the highways. I wanted to avoid riding through cities as much as possible because of Axel being the call-to-attention that I did not need. "Fuck, I'm starving again," Axel told me after untying his facemask and yanking off his helmet. He kept his sunglasses on and I could see sweat and condensation glistening on his face and in his mustache. "Just grab a bunch of snacks from inside," I suggested. "God. I hate gas station food," he grumbled. "We can stop at a Denny's and get you some more pancakes, princess," I teased. "I could go for that. Breakfast again." "Can you grab me an energy drink and oh! Check if they have those little cream-filled cupcakes. I have to take a piss." Axel smiled at me, "I'm going to make you into a little cream-filled cupcake." "Fuck you," I jested, pushing him away lightly. "I sure fucking hope you do. Listen... We have to haul for a few more hours then I want to find a hotel. You and I have a lot of catching up to do." "Fine then, deserter. Gas up and grab some food. I'll see you back out there." Axel leered and grabbed my shoulder, swooping in with his eyebrows notched together angrily. "Fucking call me that again. That asshole back at the Four's club was right when he said that I can literally beat your ass and leave you in a ditch and nobody would know about it." I shrugged him off, equally as appalled by his words. "Fuck you, Axel. I was just joking!" He shook his head and stood up tall again. "The amount of fucking disrespect I've received the last few weeks I've spent trying to find you is really starting to wear me down. I don't need you accusing me of shit when you don't even know a thing about me!" "Easy! I said I was joking!" "You're stupid, Angel! Why the hell are you even out here? And without any protection at all? You can't tell me you have a gun up your ass. No, you're just cruising out here telling people about your Daddy and fluttering around like a little butterfly thinking one of these motherfuckers won't spike your drink and rape you." "You are being SO dramatic!" I yelled at him. A middle-aged man that was paying at the pump for his gas looked over at us and our parked bikes and then pretended like he saw nothing. "Angel, I've seen some shit. Some real fucking shit that would make you yack. For you to be perusing around biker clubs by yourself is dangerous." "Well guess what?" I stood up on my tiptoes and poked him hard in the chest, "I've been fucking fine without you so far! So I suggest you shut up and take the fucking joke! You can hop on the road going backward, buddy! I don't need you at all! Arrogant prick... You think I can't move the fuck on with my life without you? Go fuck yourself, Axel!" I gasped as he gripped my jaw and started backing me up so quickly I thought I would certainly trip over something and fall but he had me in place and the last car in the station was just pulling away. When I hit a wall Axel ducked in and kissed me hard. The prickle of his facial hair caused me to wince but the taste of his lips made it worth the pain. He pulled me along the wall, gripping blindly with his tongue in my mouth for the door handle to the bathroom. Wrenching open the door, he shoved me inside and pulled the door shut. Already breathless, I pointed at the knob. "Lock it." "Get the fuck on your knees." "Axel, lock the door first." He took one looming step forward defiantly and the blaze of anger on his face only strengthened. "Did you fucking hear me, little girl? I said get on those knees." When I sank to the dirty floor Axel took another step closer to me. I didn't expect him to come at me so aggressively and for a moment I felt like I could be in real danger. After all, I didn't actually know a thing about him even if I pretended to. He could have been a murderer. He could have been in jail. He could have done something terrible like what those guys back at the club had said. I tried not to picture Axel melting someone's face into steaming liquid slurry. "How are you gonna say sorry to me? You make me so very upset when you say mean things. Don't you know it's not nice to call names?" "Um... I'm sorry," I said, voice small and shaky. "Don't be scared, kitten. You remember my safe word, don't you?" I nodded and felt a wave of nostalgic arousal send the first wave of endorphins shooting through my body. Axel smiled and caressed my jaw with his gloved hand. "Well, what is it?" "Mercy," I replied. "Mm-hmm, that's right. Good girl, you remember." It was pathetic how easy it was for him to tame me. Then again, he was so damn bad and gorgeous that it figured he could tame most anyone. He was a living lightning rod of pure erotic obscenity and even more so to me because I couldn't get off to any thought other than the ones I had of him reducing me to a whimpering, wet mess. Nothing else did it for me. Only the memory of him fucking me in a tool shed and refusing to go down on me could get me close to the edge. "Now, if you please, open up that little mouth and show me your tongue," Axel asked, tone shifting politely. As I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, Axel popped open the button of his jeans and pulled them down. A bulge of arousal pressed tightly against the crotch of his boxers and I loved the way it looked all bound in fabric and growing. "See what you do to me? I can't even look at you with your mouth open and not get hard. It's like your mouth was made for me to fuck it. Don't you agree, sugar?" "Yes," I said, leaving my mouth open and my tongue out for him to gaze upon. He stroked the salty pad of his thumb over the slick muscle hanging out between my teeth and purred like an engine. "Oh, the nights I spent thinking about this dirty fucking mouth. Your sweet lips wrapped around my cock... That tongue running over my balls. Fuck. Yeah, I think I need that again." The blinking fluorescent light in the dingy bathroom glinted off of every wet surface in the room. There was a puddle in the corner, a leaking faucet, yellowish-brown nicotine stains dripping down the tiled walls and a fat, clear nacre of precum taking form on the front of his boxers that aroused my appetite despite our squalid surroundings. Even though the stench of a thousand bowel-movements permeated the air, I still let my mouth hang open as he angled his hips closer to my face so I could lick at the warm bubble of his arousal. He treated it like my tongue was cold and he was oh so hot, seething just by me sucking on the already wet material. "Shit... You are a filthy little thing, aren't you? God, that's what I like about you. So willing to fuck me and please me anywhere I need it, huh? Such a good girl I almost forgot about your disgusting mouth from earlier. Almost." I reached up to pull down his boxers but he stepped away to leave me clutching at air. "No, no. Not so fast. I know you're just begging to be fed but you have to finish what you started first. Now go on, suck up all of Daddy's precum." He had to bend at the knees for me to be able to reach him but it didn't hinder him from tilting his head back and moaning loudly as I sucked a big dark blotch through the cotton of his boxers. The vulgar feeling of wet material in my mouth made me eager for him to actually pull his cock out so that I could run my tongue along something that didn't feel sopping and gauzy. When he finally hooked his thumbs under the waistband and let his erection fall out I squealed pleasantly and reached a hand up to grip it steady. Axel batted my hand away though and lifted his shaft up himself to keep me from latching onto him. "No cock until you've played with my balls first. Come on, sugar. Suck on Daddy's balls like a good little kitten." I opened my mouth wider so he could drop himself onto my tongue while he stroked his shaft above my head. Even though I was terrified somebody was going to walk in, I couldn't help but hum around him enthusiastically just so I could hear him moan from the feeling. Moisture from the ground started seeping through the knees of my pants and I was growing hot in my jacket so I stripped it off and got back to licking every inch of what he would allow me. Soon he needed the heat of my mouth around the head of his cock and he forced my head back so he could hit my tongue with it. "Yes, yes. Good girls love cock, don't they? Don't they?" "Yes," I replied. "Tell me what you love," he pressed me for the answer he wanted like a parent dredging up the truth from a fibbing child. "I love cock." "Whose cock do you love?" "Your cock, Daddy." "Say it." "I love your cock, Daddy." He smiled and touched my cheek lovingly, "I know you do, sugar. Open up. I want to see the back of that throat." My mouth was assaulted by his shaft thrusting in and out of me like my head was merely a hole for his pleasure and his pleasure only. He didn't concern himself with my ability to breathe between thrusts and I had to gasp for air each time he pulled out to make sure I didn't faint from how hard he shoved his cock down my throat. We only did that for a little while until drool started pouring down my chin and dripping off his head. He pulled my head back by my hair and smiled at me proudly. "You can really take a good throat-fucking. Now, get up. Pull down those nice tight jeans. Daddy needs to pump his little cupcake full of cream." It was disgusting and I hated how when I watched him kick the lid of the toilet seat down so he could sit on it that I followed him. He motioned with two fingers for me to sit on his lap. "Come on, pants off, pants off!" He urged. I scrambled to get them down as I stood between his parted legs. He grabbed me by the hip, turned me around so I was facing away from him and slowly brought me down. We both gasped when the head of his cock aligned perfectly with my open and I eased the rest of my weight down onto him, fully submerging him in the tight heat of my wetness. He lifted my legs up and slung them both to one side so he could hook his arm under my knees and support my back with the other arm just like if I were his little baby and he was rocking me to sleep. "Oh, Christ. I love being balls deep in your pussy, baby. Do you like it too?" "Yes, Daddy." "Oh, fuck, hold still, sugar." Axel used all of his upper body strength to lift me up and down but soon realized our position wasn't going to be sustainable for long and stood up with me still in his arms. He tried again to fuck me standing up but had to put me down when my boots and jeans proved too difficult to maneuver in. With a growl of frustration, Axel ripped off his jacket and tossed it on the grimy floor near mine. "Fuck it, bend over the sink." Only Axel got to watch himself fucking me in the mirror because I was held down with my face nearly eating the faucet. He was wildly rocking into me and grunting, only taking pauses to spank my ass loudly and call me dirty little pet names. "I'm going to come inside that pussy. Know why?" He asked through his clenched teeth, fingers wrapped harshly around my hips so he could pull me in to meet his thrusts. "Because my pussy belongs to you?" I whimpered. "Yes. That's right, baby and you know I like to feed my hungry little pussy all the cum she wants." I started feeling weak when he reached around and toyed with my clit almost like an afterthought. I was so lost in the shroud of lust and adrenaline-laced fear of being discovered that my heart began to beat as quick as his pumps into me. "You like it when I touch your sweet little clit while I fuck you?" He asked rhetorically. Of course, I loved it. My tortured moans were indication enough and when the slaps of our skin became claps and our fragmented breaths became deep panting I knew that it wouldn't be long before we speared ourselves on the sharp peak of orgasm together. He promised to keep rubbing my clit as long as I squeezed my pussy tighter around him. Nodding, promising, begging and doing anything I could to convince him that my body was his to use, he shoved his fingers down my throat and came hard. I was crushed up against the sink with his entire weight and his cock twitching inside my spasming walls. After he pulled out of me the trickle of his cum immediately followed. Out of breath and dizzy, Axel shuffled over to the toilet paper dispenser and began unrolling wads of it to clean up the thick white mess leaking down his shaft. He kicked the toilet seat open once more and dropped the soiled paper in the water. I was still a mess bent over the sink and only smiled after he brought me my own huge wad of tissue paper to mop up my inner thighs. "Fuck, it stinks in here. Let's get out of here and get some fucking snacks. Now I'm really starving." I cleaned up as much of the stickiness that I could but when I hiked my jeans back up and began taking steps towards the door I felt more of his seed working it's way out of me to stain the crotch of my panties. Axel stopped me and nodded towards the toilet. "Go pee. We're not stopping again for another couple of hours." Ever the gentleman, Axel held the door open for me when I was done and smiled as I stepped out of the gas station bathroom back into the light of day. I felt like a sex-crazed vampire that had just emerged from its filthy, bodily-fluid ridden hole. He had been right about us needing to find a hotel because the thought of a shower was the only thing keeping me from feeling one hundred percent like I had just crawled out of a gutter. As if nothing had happened, we walked into the gas station and were greeted by the clerk behind a counter full of scratch tickets, candy bars, cheap phone chargers, and nine-hour energy shots. Axel whistled at me to get my attention and waved a blue package at me. "Look, honey, they have your cupcakes!"

[kickflipradio-blog]

Too Much Monkey Business: 4 Songs Talking Rhythm In Rhyme

A tongue twister, battle cry blood blister. Rhythmic rhyme, why don’t people do it all the time!? Now, There are a few reasons that make Chuck Berry a nasty rotten jailbird. There is also an awesome amount of evidence that explains why he is the master and the poet laureate of Rock N Roll. Chuck went on to influence countless pockets, patches and blankets of culture; he will as long as human beings exist. It’s just in the chemistry. The chain reaction since the dawn of time and he was a big link in the chain.

The dude started a trend of songwriting that would later lead to music that remains infinite in our human existence. He has songs himself such as Johnny B. Goode and Maybelline that will forever be heard as the roots of Rock N Roll. These songs put Chuck in the stars, but his poetic, rhythmic genius is completely exposed with one track in particular. Written and released as his 5th single from Chess Records, A track titled, Too Much Monkey Business, was released in September of 1956. A song that runs a string of complaints in a whimsical, humorous, ironic fashion.

“Run and to and fro,

Hard-working at the mail,

Never fail at the mail,

Here comes a rotten bale.”

Or how about,

“Pay phone

Something wrong

Dime gone

Well I oughta’ sue the operatah’

For tellin’ me a tale...ahhh”

Too Much Monkey Business with Lyrics

The rebellion of routine recognized. The “botheration” expressed in rhythm and rhyme. A comedic, Shakespearean perspective on everyday life is thrown into a two minute and fifty-three-second track. Listen to Chuck’s attack on,

“Same thing, every day,

gettin’ up, goin’ to school,

no need me to be complaining,

my objection overruled...ahhh”

Badass attitude. Tone makes everything. From the tone in a sunset, to how you talk to your mother. This rabble-rouser tone is nearly mimicked later in 1965 when the world would get flipped and swing the “Gates of Eden” open to a cultural renaissance.

The boot that kicked clean through the barn door, where culture was lying dormant, opens up with Bob Dylan’s evolution of “Another Side.” The opening track on the debut of Dylan’s electric brilliance, puffs up, slicks back and bohemianizes Chuck’s “Monkey Business.” Subterranean Homesick Blues reflects the rhythm and rhyme of Too Much Monkey Business and is righteously reinvented.

“Maggie comes fleet foot,

Face full of black soot,

Talking that heat put plants in the bed but

Phone’s tapped anyway,

Maggie say ‘the men they say must bust in early may,’

Orders from the DA.”

Dylan attacks the ironic unfairness of expectation that society holds, much as Chuck does, but Dylan nearly interrogates it under a spotlight. It’s like Dylan has this special lens that allows us to observe a million little ants who don’t know how the hell to work together and they’re all bumping into each other, trying to figure it out. Chuck is more day to day, profile to profile, person to person. Dylan reaches a bit further going chapter to chapter. Verse by verse he compares the hustle of the city to the hustle of the farm; hinting at civil rights, cultural phenomenons, stuff like that. Dylan is literally warning you “Look out kid, this is what this hard life has to offer, here are some obstacles I’ve observed along the way; let me explain in my alien-like, Shakespearean, Chuck Berrian original dialect.

“Get Born (Get Woke eh? Dylan was woke AF, am I right?) keep warm,

Short pants romance,

Learn to dance,

Get dressed, get blessed,

Try to be a success*,

Please her, please him, buy gifts,

Don’t steal, Don’t lift,

20 years of schoolin’ and they put you on the day shift.”

*In the famous music video Dylan shoots in 1965 for Subterranean Homesick Blues, he flips through poster cards that follow the lyrics of the song. When the line “Try to be a success,” comes up, Dylan holds a card that reads, “SUCKCESS.” His warning is rhetoric and my personal interpretation is that this world kind of tells you to try to be a kiss ass, suck a lil pee pee maybe? On another note, he also holds a card up that reads “It’s hard” during the line “hard to tell if anything if gonna sell try hard, get Bard” The warning plays back simple and clear, “it’s hard.” Also telling everyone to “get bard,” get hip to willy the shake….Billy Shakespeare.

Subterranean Homesick Blues Music Video

Two rhythmically similar approaches to songs, that paved the way to a new way of thinking. An honest, hysterical, fresh way of thinking. The Earth is perfect, but the world is unfair and the human species is competitive. The real heroes are the honest ones who can practice patience, recognize and relay that reflection of chaos and stupidity that we, as a whole culture and species, are functioning under.

So the 70s happen and most of the 80s happen where time has allowed generations to digest the cultural phenomenon and renaissance that occurred at the latter half of the 20th century. This band in November 1987 puts out a single that supposedly was inspired by being hyper-aware, anxiety, and a dream in which a party was full of people who all had the initials,  L.B. The 80s-indie rock band R.E.M. releases It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine). To be honest, I thought this song was a 90s song, and it certainly sounds like it could have come out in 1993. R.E.M.: great band; ahead of their time.

“Six o'clock, T.V. hour, don't get caught in foreign tower

Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn

Lock him in uniform, book burning, bloodletting

Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate

Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down

Watch your heel crush, crush, uh oh

This means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steering clear

A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies

Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline”

More stream of consciousness and way more chaotic, surreal and nonsensical. However, the songwriter, Michael Stipe still created a piece that belongs in this group of rhythmic rhyme. It’s a whimsical perspective on the human tragedy. Its’ surreal, revolving, apocalyptic take, still hints at rebellion and liberty from societal routine. ‘Everyday at 6pm, the news comes on and oh boy look at all this chaos...yipee! Maybe I should do something about it, light a candle for someone, try to get some action going on the streets….ah there’s so much to do and nobody’s listening and they’re telling me not to do it anyway, but ah fuck it.’ Songwriter, Michael Stipe effectively carries on the similar cynical helplessness in this fun, whimsical rhythmic rhyming pattern we see from Berry and Dylan. It’s possible I’ve missed other examples in between 1965 and 1987, and if did, please let me know! I’d love to hear from you and talk music history!

It’s The End of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) Music Video

2 years later, Billy Joel writes and releases a single in July of 1989 that captures accurate historical moments and tense emotion spanning from the end of the Second World War to the present day of 1989. We Didn’t Start The Fire continues the legacy of Too Much Monkey Business with the rhythmic rhyming pattern that Chuck started back in 1956. Joel uses historical points as well as cultural and political icons to reflect the human collection of events that are placed on the scales of judgment. A moral test of ourselves. Chuck’s rolling eyes from “botheration,” Dylan’s weighted tongue sticking out at America’s societal routine, Stipe’s dizzying anxiety of becoming overwhelmed and now Joel’s judgment.

Joel steps back and looks, not only at America but the world to examine, essentially, the ripple that has been rolling since the bombing at Hiroshima using the same rhythmic-rhyming method as Chuck and Bob nearly 3-4 decades prior. I like to think of where these artists were when they were picking up influence for a piece like this. Was Joel listening to R.E.M. a couple of years prior on the radio and heard something click in his head? He had to be a fan of Chuck and Bob. Maybe he wasn’t even conscious of the similarities.

We Didn’t Start The Fire Montage

We Didn’t Start The Fire Official Music Video

We Didn’t Start The Fire- The chorus implies that the generations before us kind of made a mess so big that the next generation could never avoid stepping in it. Now I get that my tone may sound negative, but with a grander perspective, it doesn’t have to be so cynical. In fact, I think that Chuck and Bob use a more of an ironic, cynical tone as opposed to Billy who uses more of a mature, mediating tone. ‘Okay so, I wasn’t in existence when y’all were throwing shit on the fire, but now I guess I’m here and it’s all kind of getting out hand...maybe we should do something about it? No? Maybe? Yea, we should probably take care of this, right?’

“We didn’t start the fire, we didn’t light it but we’re trying to fight it.”

The 80s gave us a heroic tone and hopeful songs about changing for the better and the how the world had to take a good look at itself in order to do so. Joel still uses a great amount of condemning and controversial examples of how the world isn’t in its best state.

“Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon Back Again (Whoops)

Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, punk rock.

Begin, Reagan, Palestine, terror on the airline.

Ayatollah’s in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan

“Wheel of Fortune”, Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide

Foreign debts, homeless vets, AIDS crack, Bernie Goetz

Hypodermics on the shores, China’s under martial law

Rock and roller cola wars, I can’t take it anymore.”

In the end, it seems that it all has become too much. There is still hope in this song. The other three don’t hold the tone of hope as much as they do cynicism and tragic hilarity. Subterranean Homesick Blues and Too Much Monkey Business complain and warn us, as It’s the End of the World  As We Know It is more like a kid punching one fist in the air offering incomprehensible stream of consciousness with a radical attitude.

How the four differ: Bob doesn’t use a chorus, he uses a hook, “Look out Kid, It’s something you did, don’t matter what you did, you’re gonna get hit, they keep it all hid.” The other three have a distinct repetitive chorus separate from the verses. Bob throws the hook in the latter half of each verse to bring his thought around to a satisfying conclusion only to continue kickin’ that rock n roll. Like I said, a boot through a barn door.

We can conclude that these four tunes share multiple patterns and techniques that make them stand out from other songs. We witness an evolution of the observation of societal decline. They all use quick, rhythmic rhyming patterns that make these songs catchy, memorable and well...hit singles. Make a playlist with these four songs in order from Too Much Monkey Business to We Didn’t Start The Fire. Find out for yourself. Let me know if you discover anything. Let’s talk about it!

There aren’t many songs like these four, and well this article/blog/piece-whatever you want to call it- is just recognizing that and nothing more. Maybe we can learn something from it...but I’m just going to try writing a quick, witty, whimsical, ironic, rhythmic, rhyming observation on the societal decline and see what comes out. Maybe it’ll be a “hit single” yea right..and maybe roosters won’t peck me every time I try to give ‘em a kiss!

Aloha and always cheers,

Fisher the Lloyd

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Thirty-Four.

HELLO! WELCOME BACK!

Previously, we watched T’Challa and Nakia finally get married! Praise Bast, it’s proof that T’Challa finally got off his ass and popped the question!

This week, we’ve got a nice, little interlude with Okoye, Ayo, Aneka, and Djabi. We’re long overdue for a girl’s night, after all.

Rating: Probably a solid PG to PG-13.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku, T’Challa x Nakia, Shuri x OC, and Ayo x Aneka x OC.

Warnings: Consumption of alcohol. This one’s pretty tame, all things considered.

@skysynclair19, @the-last-hair-bender

Invest in your friends as much as you invest in your romantic relationships, my dears. Nothing is certain in life, and it’s easier to weather life’s uncertainties with people you trust and care about by your side.

“This is long overdue!” Djabi announced as she set a package of pastries down on the coffee table.

Aneka grinned as she uncorked a bottle of wine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

They were settled in the Dora Milaje break room, taking advantage of the evening and the empty space to have a much needed girl’s night.

Okoye smiled as she set down her contribution to the night --several containers of moderately unhealthy, mostly fried vendor food. “It seems like we’ve barely had time to sit down and talk since last New Year’s.”

“Blame that on the dissolving international political arena, the sociopathic technopath, and the demonic cyborg,” Ayo muttered with a huff.

“No!” Djabi pointed fiercely at the Commander. “Absolutely not! You are not bringing work into tonight. I refuse!”

Aneka poured four glasses of wine, handing them out to her friends and partner in turn. “A toast,” she said, lifting her glass.

“To what?” Djabi asked.

Aneka mulled it over, then grinned impishly. “To King T’Challa, for finally getting past his freezing.”

Okoye laughed as she clinked her glass with her friends’. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Drink to something that’ll never happen?” Ayo snickered. “He’s married to Nakia now. He’ll be freezing every damn day.”

“Well, at least he got off his ass and asked her,” Djabi said with a grin.

Okoye took a sip of her wine, then set the glass on the table and settled back in the chair she was sitting on. “Alright. We need to catch up. What’s been going on with all of you lately?”

“Gaslighting,” Ayo grumbled into her glass.

“Oh, get off it!” Aneka laughed. “Stop being so dramatic!”

“I’m sorry, but what else do you call a torture session that is portrayed by the torturers as for the victim’s own good?”

“I’m lost,” Djabi said. “Because, unless you’re talking about a sadism session gone wrong, I can’t put together what you’re talking about.”

“O’Chenga and I finally took her to a furniture store to get some basic necessities,” Aneka explained.

Ayo rolled her eyes. “You call it a store. I call it hell...”

The overhead lights glared like miniature suns, making the concrete floor gleam forebodingly. Garish displays of color, design, and style were strewn everywhere, creating a chaotic, indecipherable field of obstacles and paths. Countless other prisoners --shoppers, whatever--ambled around, mindlessly swaying from one patch of furniture to another.

She’d braved countless battles, looked foreign diplomats in the eye without blinking, and gone several rounds in the sparring ring with the best fighters that Wakanda --that the world--had to offer. And yet, as she surveyed the setting for the oncoming battle, Ayo wasn’t confident she’d make it out of the damn store in one piece.

Aneka’s hand was a vice on hers, unrelenting and inescapable. She scanned a strategy map with cool precision, nimble mind undoubtedly plotting out the best course to ensure total victory.

Ayo had always loved her girlfriend’s keen intelligence and wit, and now she was devastated --blindsided--to find it being so callously used against her--

Okoye howled with laughter as Aneka swatted at her girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Oh, knock it off! If it was that bad, it’s only because you were being so moody and melodramatic!”

“I am not melodramatic!” Ayo insisted, indignant.

“You called the other shoppers ‘prisoners,’” Okoye pointed out between gasps of laughter. She clutched at her stomach. “Oh, Bast, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard something that funny.”

“It isn’t funny,” Ayo said sullenly. “I barely survived.”

“Yes, it is,” Djabi chortled. “Aneka, you’re gonna have to tell the story if you don’t want it to turn into a tragedy film.”

Aneka huffed as she set her half-eaten pastry on a napkin. “Really, it wasn’t anywhere near that bad. The three of us stopped for breakfast first --and Ayo agreed ahead of time that we’d go shopping--”

“I agreed to go shopping!” Ayo snapped. “I did not agree to going to that hellsite against my will!”

Aneka shook her head, smiling anyway. “Honestly, it was a pretty good time, once you get past Ayo’s dramatics...”

Aneka perused the pamphlet that showed the store’s layout. She already had a general idea of what styles she wanted to aim for --she and O’Chenga had spent several months going over different design choices--and she didn’t want to flounder about needlessly through a bunch of different sections that wouldn’t have what they wanted. As much as tormenting her girlfriend was fun, she didn’t want to sour the experience with incompetence.

O’Chenga’s hand was warm and loving on her arm as he peered over her shoulder. “Do you have our route figured out yet?”

“I do,” Ayo grumbled, still upset at being duped. “Right back out the way we came. It’ll take less than a minute.”

“Oh, hush,” Aneka chided as she tugged her girlfriend to the right. “This has been a long time coming and you know it. If we go this way, we can loop around the whole store and end at the checkout aisles.”

She and O’Chenga compared prices, fabrics, and colors as they meandered throughout the store, while Ayo trudged along with them.

“I have gotten this far in my life without throw pillows,” she griped when the two of them started setting options on the couch they’d picked to see which patterns went best with the soft gray stripes that ran along the fabric covering on the cushions. “I don’t need them now.”

“They look nice,” Aneka said as she eyed the plush, yellow polka dot pillow directly in front of her. “They can be used for extra support and cushioning. They’re fun!”

“They’re meant to sit on a couch and look pretty,” Ayo said, unimpressed. “And don’t pick yellow! I hate yellow!”

Aneka and O’Chenga shared smirks before going back to narrowing down their choices.

“Whoa, wait,” Djabi said as she scooped fried plantains onto her plate. “You didn’t say which pillows you ended up going with.”

“Oh, we went with the solid royal blue ones,” Aneka said. “We all liked the color best.”

Okoye grinned teasingly at Ayo, who was pouting --as much as she pouted--dejectedly. “You picked out throw pillows?”

“All I did was ask them not to get the yellow ones,” Ayo grumbled as she gulped down a swig of wine.

“Djabi, how’d your family reunion go?” Aneka asked as she patted Ayo’s arm.

Okoye raised her eyebrows. “Wait, you already made it through? How’d I miss that?”

“Because,” Djabi groaned. “My mom managed to swipe my communicator on the first night and ‘lose’ it. And I made it through by staying mildly buzzed for the most of it.”

Djabi liked her family. They were loving, fun to be around, and enjoyed a good meal as much as she did. Plus, everyone was fairly laid back, which meant there weren’t stupid bouts of drama every other week.

Unfortunately, for as laid back as they were, her aunts, mother, and grandmothers loved playing matchmaker.

“Look at you,” her Aunt Djani remarked during the second day of the reunion. “In your prime and without a man at your side.”

“And just what is wrong with that?” Djabi muttered as she poured more whiskey into her glass.

“Nothing,” her mother said as she took the bottle and set it out of her daughter’s reach. “It’s just that we worry about you being lonely. We want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Djabi mumbled into her glass. Especially when I’m not being set up with every single guy in the territory.

It wasn’t that she disliked men. She enjoyed them just fine.

She also enjoyed being independent. As much as she admired Okoye and M’Baku’s relationship --or Ayo, Aneka, and O’Chenga’s--it wasn’t something she wanted right now.

Not that her aunts, grandmother, or mother believed her.

“Sleeping alone isn’t good for you,” her eldest Aunt, Zidwe, said. “It can lead to depression.”

“Actually, people sleep better alone because their sleep cycles are less likely to be interrupted by their partner’s movements,” Djabi shot back. “And I’m not depressed.”

“Not yet,” her grandmother muttered.

“There’s a young man--” her mother swatted her arm lightly when Djabi rolled her eyes “--he’s a friend of your cousin’s. He’s the son of one of the sector leaders. Very respectable, a year younger than you.”

“And he’s got shoulders for days,” Aunt Djani added.

“He’s actually here; we managed to talk your cousin into bringing him along,” her mother said. “He’s by the food tables, in the bright red shirt.”

Djabi looked over her shoulder surreptitiously --and, well, her aunt hadn’t been kidding.

He did have shoulders for days.

Djabi smiled internally as she turned around again. Maybe this family reunion won’t be so bad after all.

“Wait, so did you hook up with him or not?” Ayo asked.

Djabi smirked. “I did. More than once. I actually have his number for my nights off.”

Okoye clapped a hand over her mouth as she snorted. “Oh, Bast. Your aunts and your mom found you a booty call.”

“Hey, it’s their fault for always trying to set me up with someone!”

They all laughed together, doubling over and pressing their hands against their mouths.

“Anyway,” Djabi said once they calmed down. “What about you, Okoye? What’s new with you?”

Okoye shrugged. “Not much. I’ve been pretty busy here. Although...”

She did her best to keep her face smooth as M’Baku walked towards her. How did I get roped into this again?

She’d agreed to act as a ‘decoy’ for Shuri and Dewani --yet another escalation in the ongoing prank war between the Chief and the two teens. If she listened carefully enough, she could hear them giggling on the balcony above.

At this rate, they’ll give themselves away. She smiled as M’Baku kissed her cheek. “Thanks for meeting me out here.”

“Of course. You said you needed me, my love?”

Fortunately, she didn’t have to think of some random, plausible enough excuse.

There was a sharp laugh from the balcony overhead, and then Shuri and Dewani dumped a bucket of ice water straight onto M’Baku’s head.

He let out a yelp as the frigid water hit him. He stared down at his soaked clothes and the puddle at his feet, then glared up at his sister and her girlfriend. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

Dewani and Shuri cackled in unison.

“It is!” Dewani crowed.

“It’s for ALS,” Shuri said as she filmed the Chief. “It’s good cause!”

“You will regret this!” he shouted as the girls darted inside the palace. He huffed, then fixed his glare on Okoye. “Really? You decided to help them?”

She smirked and stepped towards him, placing her hands on his chest. “I figured I could make it up to you.”

“Oh, really.” He hefted her over his soaked shoulder before she could dart away and carried her into the palace. “We’ll just have to see about that, ‘koye.”

“And so, the mystery of how Okoye manages to walk properly ever lives on,” Ayo said. “Seriously, though--”

“You’re making the mistake of assuming M’Baku’s on top all the time,” Djabi interjected.

Ayo pointed at Djabi. “That would do it.”

Okoye rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible.”

[pinknerdpanda]

Heaven Sent - Part 3

Word Count: 1,601

Characters: Y/n, Castiel, Dean, Sam (Mentioned)

Warnings: Snark, Heaven-Induced Insanity, Language, Angst if you squint

A/N: This is Part 3 of a mini-series I wrote for @ellen-reincarnated1967’s “Andi’s Back in the Game” challenge. Beta’d by @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch who also helped me to brainstorm and nail down exactly where I wanted to go. Thank you both so very much!

A/N 2: This takes place roughly midway through Season 4

Tags are at the bottom - please send me an ASK if you would like to be added (or removed).

Need to Catch up? - Series Masterlist

Heaven Sent Part 3

Y/N

“Come again?” Dean’s face is twisted up like he’s just smelled shit. Idiot.

I sigh. “Exactly which part is it you are having trouble with, Winchester?”

“Oh I don’t know...all of it? Guardian angels. That’s a thing?”

“So you have no problem believing in the existence of angels in general. But the guardian bit is what gets you?” I frown up into his big, dumb face. “That’s a bit racist, don’tcha think?”

“There is a specific class of angels that were created to protect and guard over certain humans as they live out their days on earth,” Castiel drones from behind me and I grind my teeth together.

“Certain humans, but not all,” Dean looks down and his eyes flick back and forth like he’s reading a book. “Why not all? Why me?”

“Well, ya see Deano, there are certain humans that have a...oh what’s the word...predisposition for poor life choices. And sometimes those humans have integral roles in the ‘grand scheme of things’.” I sound like a kindergarten teacher talking to their class on the first day of school, and it’s obvious from Dean’s expression that he’s not happy about it. Oh well. “So angels like me are assigned to follow around imbeciles like you and keep you safe.”

“So wait, your job was to protect me?” He raises an eyebrow at me and narrows his gaze. “Let’s see; broken bones, electrocution, gunshot and stab wounds, death...you’re terrible at your job. No wonder you got the sack.”

I’m on my feet poking him in the chest before he can react. “Actually, I was the best at my job.”

“Right. That’s why they locked you up in angel-jail then, huh? For being so awesome?” He towers over me in an attempt to intimidate me. It’s laughable, really.

“Tell me, Dean. How’d you enjoy your stay in hell?  I think you may have been standing a little too close to Lucifer’s butthole. That whole hellfire-tan thing is so last season.” The muscle in his jaw quivers and I am close enough I can hear his teeth grinding together.

“Enough! Both of you!” Castiel shouts and flicks a finger in our direction. Dean and I go flying in different directions and land ass-over-teacup on opposite sides of the room. We both glare at him and he returns the looks, sighing.

“We have bigger problems at the moment than whatever grievances you have against each other,” Cas turns to face me. “Y/n, how did you get out? What is wrong with your grace?”

“I don’t really know. While you were busy rescuing Ken Doll over here, and requesting reinforcements, things got chaotic, they must have forgotten about me. My cell was just open and I just kinda...walked out and made a break for it. I didn’t realize until after I’d gotten to Earth that my grace was so diminished. Apparently the journey zapped most of what little I had left.” I tuck my feet up, placing my chin on my knees. I hate feeling powerless, but more than that, I hate having to admit my weakness in front of him.

“That stuff can just run out?” There’s no mocking or accusation in Dean’s voice as he looks at Castiel.

“Once admitted to the HARP facility, they limit the amount of grace you’re allowed for the duration of your stay,” Castiel looks at me, his nose wrinkled up. “You are unable to teleport then. And the frequency of the angel communication? Can you hear it?”

“Not since I got here,” I swallow back tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes. Stupid humans and their stupid emotions.

“So what can you do then?” I can tell he’s not asking to be a jerk, but really? He couldn’t have phrased it better?

“I can still kick your ass at pool,” I snap.

“Touche,” Dean smirks and then sighs. “Ok, so stopping Lilith, getting your grace back, curing cancer...just another day at the office.”

“Wait, what?” Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. I’ve done nothing but call him names and insult his intelligence...though I would argue neither was unwarranted nor unfounded...and now he’s gonna help me get my grace back? There’s gotta be a catch.

“What?” He looks as confused as I’m feeling. “Your grace? Well, I mean it sounds like it was my fault you lost it to begin with. I figure we can use all the help with Lilith we can get, and when we’re done and that bitch is back in the pits of hell where she belongs, wouldn’t the God-Squad be willing to reconsider their stance?”

He looks to Cas for confirmation and he nods noncommittally. I manage to contain my remark about Dean knowing his fair share about bitches in hell. It’s a shame really; it was a good one. I appreciate his offer, but the idea of being anywhere near him or his abomination of a brother, much less Lilith and all of her seal nonsense is marginally less appealing than roaming the earth mostly human.

“You know what, I think I’ll pass, but thanks anyway, Dean.” I stand to leave and he charges across the room.

“So what? That’s it? ‘I think I’ll pass’?” He grabs my upper arm in a furious grip. “You don’t care that Lucifer could be coming back topside at any moment? That the world could be ending?”

“I mean, I know I should care,” I jerk my arm from his hand. “But ya know? Turns out, insanity has it’s perks.”  

I wish I could say that the decision to leave that hotel room has had no effect on me; that the image of Dean and Castiel’s faces - all disbelief and anger - don’t haunt me as I’ve wandered from town to town. I mean I could, but what’s the point in lying?

That’s not saying that my “world tour” as I’ve deemed it has not been completely void of small victories. It’s not like I lost 95% of my grace and suddenly I’m not an angel anymore...ok well, bad example. That’s basically exactly what’s happened. But I am still compelled to help people; that’s one thing that no one can take away from me. Which is good, because apathy is certainly a plague upon humanity as a whole.

In Des Moines, I performed the heimlich maneuver on an elderly man at a Biggerson’s who’d literally bit off more than he could chew. His wife was quite emotional and asked how she could repay me. I explained I was just passing through and high-tailed it out of there before the paramedics could arrive.

I was people watching at a mall in Peoria, enjoying a delicious Sbarro calzone when I saw two men flanking a teenage girl. Thanks to the convenient portability of said calzone, I was able to continue enjoying my lunch as I caught up with one of the two men. It’s amazing how fast flashing a long, silver stabbing object and mumbling threats of bodily harm around mouthfuls of cheese and pepperoni can make a couple of hooligans rethink their life choices.

Huntington though, that’s where I had my epiphany. I’d found a lovely park on a lovelier day. The sun was burning bright and warm overhead as the sounds of birdsong intermingled with the laughter of the children playing. One thing I’ve noticed about humans these days is their inability to be present. The worst is when parents get so wrapped up in capturing the moment digitally that they completely miss the subtle nuances of those moments as they happen. That day in Huntington, I’d watched this mother take at least 18 different photos of her young son swinging, completely ignoring his pleas for “higher Mommy!” until he’d crawled to a stop entirely. When she finally did give him a second gentle push, she immediately went back to her photo taking.

I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong, but I suppose she was too concerned about the composition and lighting to realize what was happening. Having a full charge of grace certainly would have made the whole thing easier, but even running on nearly dead batteries, I made it there in time. Just as he slid off the seat of the swing and fell backward toward the ground, I was able to scoop him up; no harm done.

As he looked up at me with those large, hazel eyes, still shrouded in fear, he said “Mommy says there are angels watching over me; to protect me and keep me safe. You must be one.”

I know in his childlike naivete, he was simply trying to reconcile things he understands as fact, with the realization that a stranger was now holding him, having saved him from harm. But it was like he was seeing into the essence of my being. “You must be one.”

I must be one. It is my job. I must perform the duties I was created for and assigned to accomplish - not out of obligation, but because that is who I am. I can save a dozen kids from unnecessary ER visits or even 100 young girls from being attacked, but if Lucifer rises and destroys the earth, none of it matters. As much as I hate to admit it, Dean was right. But mark my words, I would rather die than let him hear me admit that. Those two idiots are the key to stopping the apocalypse and I have no idea where they are, but I have an idea of who might.

Read Part 4 HERE

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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Heaven Sent Tags: @peppermint-teas @night-thinker-23 @lavieenlex @mariahoedt

[rufousnmacska]

final (nsfw!) part of this little modern manorian au

(also now on ao3)

Dorian scanned the room for Manon but he didn’t see her. The reception hall was a mass of people trying to find their seats, drop off gifts, ohh and ahh over the cake. Chaol clapped him on the back and pushed him towards their table.

He and Manon had spent the entire ceremony staring at each other like lovesick teenagers. He hoped she wasn’t catching hell for missing her cues to hold Asterin’s bouquet and arrange her dress. It wasn’t a big deal, and neither the bride nor groom seemed to care. But Asterin’s mom was a hardass, running this wedding like a movie production.

Finally. He caught sight of her heading quickly to the long bridal party table. Apparently she’d been busy after the photos had been taken. She still had the ugly dress on of course, but she’d removed the makeup and rearranged her hair into a simple braid. Although he liked this look better, he couldn’t hold in a laugh as he thought, She’s pushing the envelope. Monster of the bride is gonna be pissed.

He sat next to Chaol at the very end of the table, about as far from her as he could get. But she looked for him before sitting, flashing him an incredible smile when their eyes met.

He was done. There was no moving on from this.

All through the tedious dinner he sat quietly, thinking about what might come next. Assuming she even wanted a next. This is absurd, he thought. I’ve known her for two days.

Chaol nudged him and said, “So when are you moving here?”

Dorian’s brows creased in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know exactly what you’re thinking. ‘How long do we have to wait before we move in together so people don’t think it’s weird.’ No less than a month. That might even be too soon.”

“Jesus Chaol! We haven’t even kissed.”

Chaol laughed and used his bro voice. “You better get on that dude!”

“I’m serious,” Dorian said. “We’ve known each other for a couple of days. You’re jumping the gun.”

“I don’t think I am,” he replied. “I know you. And I’ve never seen you like this. I’m betting Asterin has never seen Manon like this either.” He held up a hand to shut Dorian up before he could interrupt. “I’m not saying you need to run off tonight and elope. But don’t let stupid shit like where you live, or what your parents might think get in the way of this.”

Dorian hadn’t even thought about how his parents would react to her. A struggling artist. Living in Portland. Surrounded by a loud, chaotic family. He looked down the table to find Manon watching him. She gave him a you ok? look. He nodded, pointed to her, then himself, and mimed them dancing. She laughed and got pulled away by a cousin.

He realized that not considering his parents’ opinions was a pretty good sign that he didn’t give a shit what they thought.

“I’ll hold off on the ‘I told you so’ until you two get married,” Chaol said.

Dorian shook his head. But he couldn’t help thinking that would be the first time he’d love hearing those words.

“Oh shit Connall, I’m sorry!” She flung her heels off towards their table.

He laughed as she stepped on his feet again. “You’re distracted Manon. It’s ok. I would be too if Dorian was looking at me like that.”

Just like during the ceremony, their gazes were locked on each other. But as they were now being forced to dance with their bridal party partner, it made for some painful missteps.

Manon didn’t know where her aunt had found whatever hardcore wedding guide she was working from, but she hoped it was out of print. Moira had gone ballistic when she saw Manon with a clean face and unsprayed hair. She was probably pissed that the maid of honor was now barefoot.

She didn’t care though. The photos were done. If she ever became a well known artist, she’d regret having that crap on the internet. But she wasn’t going to worry about it now.

“This… song… is… allllmooost… There. It’s done. You’re free to go,” Connall said, flicking her long braid.

She smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “You’re free too. Go find Sam.”

The instant he walked away, Dorian was there to sweep her into his arms.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you how nice you look today Mercedes,” she teased.

As he led her around the edge of the dance floor, he feigned offense. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? I’ll have you know Trooper, I’m wearing the hell out of this rented tux.”

Once their laughter died down, they both seemed to realize at the same time that they’d never been this close before. Heat sprang up between them, and Manon smiled. Before she could say anything, she stepped on his foot.

“Apparently, I can no longer dance,” she said.

“Here.” Dorian stopped, then pulled her close, guiding her bare feet onto his shoes. “Is this better?”

Manon wasn’t sure if she could breathe as they were now inches apart. She managed though, and his scent filled her. It reminded her of the mountains where she loved to hike. Fresh, chilled air. Verdant, green trees.

“Much better,” she whispered.

They danced like that for hours. His hand sliding up and down her back, hers moving from his chest to his arm and back again. Talking, laughing, ignoring whatever music was playing to make slow circles in their corner of the floor. They hadn’t even noticed the ring of kids who formed around them for the chicken dance until it was almost over.

As the room began to empty, Manon was finally pulled away to help gather some of Asterin’s things. She gestured for him to wait for her, though she didn’t think he was going anywhere.

Once everything was settled and Asterin and Fenrys had left for their apartment, Manon found her shoes and made her way to where Dorian was waiting. She’d never been one for the high class preppy look. But seeing him in his disheveled tux, jacket thrown over his shoulder, messy dark hair… And the way he was looking at her.

I am done, she thought. No. Decided. She’d decided.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him out to the parking lot. Her car was closer so they ended up there.

"So what do you have going on tomorrow,” Dorian asked? His face and voice had an edge of nerves, like he was worried that with the end of the reception would come a final goodbye.

Manon played with his loose bow tie. “After waking up next to you, I didn’t have anything planned.”

His mouth parted and she watched his brilliant blue eyes darken. Watched him close the space between them.

His thumb grazed her lower lip as he said, “So I could keep you in bed all day.”

She grasped his shirt and pulled until his mouth was almost touching hers. “Actually I don’t have any plans until Thurs-”

Before she could finish the word he was kissing her. Soft and easy, a flick of his tongue, a brush of her teeth. When their lips parted and she tasted him, her only thought was Finally.

Their hands ran over each other’s body, through each other’s hair. Slowly at first but becoming harder and more urgent as the kiss went on and on.

Minutes or hours later, Dorian pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. Breathlessly he said, “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”

“Why are you stopping then?”

His laugh was low and his voice rough as he said, “Because I’m not going to fuck you in a car.” Dipping his head, he not-so-gently bit her earlobe. “At least not yet.”

“Fuck,” Manon exhaled. She was about to argue with him when she heard car doors closing nearby. He was right. This wasn’t the place.

She dragged herself away from him and nodded towards her car. “Get in.”

Thank god Manon lived nearby. Even the ten minute drive felt like forever. She parked in front of a large warehouse and he followed her in, assuming she had a loft space and studio inside. He was right, and became momentarily distracted by her work.

“This is amazing,” he mumbled, only able to make out some of the shapes from the street lights filtering in from outside. Clay sculptures of stylized animals were scattered around the room. Some with flowers for fur or trees growing from them, others chimerical mixtures of different animals. All waiting to be cast and forged into metal.

Grabbing his hand and pulling him through the large, open room, Manon said, “You can see it tomorrow.” Then quickly added, “Or, the next day.”

Dorian let her lead the way.

The instant they were in her living space, she turned and had him pushed up against a wall. As badly as he wanted her, he held her away. He wanted them to take their time.

But she pushed through his hold to take his bottom lip between her teeth. Dorian groaned and his head fell into the wall. When she was done nibbling, she whispered, “We have time. All the time we want.”

Manon stepped away and walked him to her bedroom.

As she moved to tear the dress off, not so much in urgency as in hate for the damn thing, Dorian rushed to stop her.

“Wait! You can’t ruin such a wonderful reminder of this weekend,” he said with a grin. “We should get it preserved somehow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but her expression changed when he walked around to stand behind her.

Moving her braid aside, he bent and ran kisses down her neck. She shivered, and he continued slowly down her spine while he unzipped the dress. It still clung to her shoulders as he kissed his way back up. His hands followed his lips then slid around under the fabric to cup her breasts. Manon moaned and arched into him, grinding her ass against him.

“God Manon,” he breathed. They’d barely started and he was already losing control.

As if sensing it, she turned and stepped back. She shrugged one shoulder, then the other, and just like that, the dress was pooled at her feet. Dorian’s eyes roamed all over her, lingering on how her full breasts spilled out from her bra. How her panties were slung low on her hips.

He mumbled something about the dress looking better on the floor. A dumb line, but it was true. And who the hell knew if he’d said it out loud or not.

Her smile was wicked as she moved towards him and said, “My turn.”

He just stood there watching her eyes, her hands, her lips as she pulled the bow tie free and began to unbutton his shirt. She kept her golden eyes on his until she was able to slide his shirt off. Then she took some time to admire him, running her hands over his chest, pausing at each nipple, making him gasp.

“You looked so fucking hot tonight,” she said. “You still do.”

Manon’s fingers reached his zipper. She crouched down slowly as she undid it and pulled his pants down. The whole time, her eyes never left his. Even when she rose, going slower, making sure to rub herself against all of him on her way back up.

He kicked the pants off, and that seemed to be the turning point for both of them. They collided in a kiss, Manon losing her hands in his hair, Dorian lifting her up by her ass. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, already moving her hips. He spun, hoping he was headed for the bed.

Finding it with his shin, he swore but managed to keep them upright. For about five seconds. Then, he was on his back and she was writhing on top of him. 

Underwear somehow removed and tossed aside, they rolled around, kissing, rubbing, licking, biting… until they were both driven mad.

Dorian broke first, groaning out a plea. “Fuck. I want to be inside you Manon. Please…”

“Such good manners,” she rasped into his ear. Her tongue followed her words, leaving him shuddering from the touch. The distraction let her roll them over so she was on top of him again and could reach over to the bedside table for a condom.

She straddled his legs and he sat up to kiss her as they worked to get it on. When they were ready, she smiled against his mouth and then raised herself up. Breaking the kiss, he held her face close, watching her as she slid onto him.

Dorian’s eyelids fluttered and he gasped in air as he filled her. But she kept her eyes on his and didn’t breathe, letting all the sensations wash over her.

She began to roll her hips atop him. “You feel so good,” Manon moaned.

He laid back down, hugging her close as she continued to move. “I can’t get enough of you,” he said.

“That’s good,” she breathed, lifting her head to catch his eyes. “Because I don’t ever want you to.”

His hands gripped her hips and he took over, thrusting into her, eliciting moans, cries of his name, cries of hers. Until too soon, Manon was reaching the edge. She wanted to stay suspended in that moment. But she needed this release. Craved it from him.

Rising part of the way up, she pulsed up and down, faster, until he was deep inside, then almost out, rubbing her just the right way, over and over and

“Oh god Dorian,” she cried. “Oh fuck yes…”

Heat flooded through her as she contracted around him. He kept thrusting, pressing his fingers against her clit as she moved, prolonging her orgasm into something more intense than she’d ever experienced.

He followed before she could gather her breath, squeezing her ass into him as he came, repeating her name until he too ran out of air.

Manon collapsed on top of him and he held her close. They stayed that way for a long time. Exchanging quiet words of love - without saying the L word. And soft kisses and caresses - which conveyed the L word anyway. 

The next morning, she woke to Dorian brushing her hair off her cheek. “Good morning Trooper.”

She smiled brightly, a rare event considering she hated mornings. “Car nicknames huh?”

"Yup. That’s how we met right?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not giving you a nickname associated with that dress.”

She watched him for several moments. “I’m totally falling in love with you,” she said in quiet amazement.

Manon’s eyes grew wide at the word that had just come out of her mouth. Worried she would scare him off, she tried to think of something, anything else to say. But before she could, Dorian was kissing her. When he pulled back, he said, “I’ve already fallen.” Then with a cheeky look he asked, “Any chance you might want a roommate? In a month or so?”

Manon’s laugh rang through the loft only to be cut off by another kiss.

They knew it was fast, knew what others might say, but they also just… knew.

Several months later…

Nesryn ignored her phone. They were in the middle of a Harry Potter marathon and she was not going to be interrupted. Even if it was paused for Chaol to get more food.

But then his phone buzzed. And then both phones went crazy.

“What the hell,” she muttered, giving in to see what was going on.

Her messages were flooded with numbers she didn’t know. Based on the few names that showed up, she figured it was something to do with Dorian and Manon’s Antarctic trip celebrating her installation at Olympic Sculpture Park and his first book deal. When she got to the original message and opened it, she had to enlarge the photo to understand what she was seeing.

“Chaol! Get in here! You’re not gonna believe this.”

Chaol was already on his way back in, arms loaded with bags of chips and popcorn, a jar of salsa, and a few beers. “What? Did you start it without me?!”

Nesryn was laughing, all smiles. “No. Look at this!” She held up her phone. “Wait, put that stuff down first.” When he did, she handed it to him.

It took a few moments for the the image to sink in - Dorian and Manon, in a tux and dress, standing near a group of penguins, holding champagne.

Chaol threw his hands in the air and yelled. “Yes!! I told him so! And they eloped! I don’t have to be in another wedding!”

[userlando]

Faking It (G.E) Part 10/10

Summary: Your bestfriend Grayson is attending a relative’s wedding and he needs you to act as his girlfriend. Cue lots of pining from both your sides, smug looks from Ethan and their family pressuring you into marriage and babies. Word Count: 2,457 Warnings: None. A/N: We have reached the end my lovely friends. I wanna thank you all for supporting me through my first mini series and making it a memorable one. I’ve had so much fun writing this and I hope you liked this series! Let me know what you thought! x

The Dolan cabin was chaotic the next morning. Every person in the cottage was running around like they had caught themselves on fire, as they tried to balance eating breakfast, fighting over who gets to take a shower first and getting dressed. The bride, groom, best men and the brides maids had all made their way to the church hours ago, but you were still a lot of people in the house and it was hilarious to watch how everyone ran around.

You had woken up early to avoid the line to the bathroom and taken a shower, taking your time to wash your hair and body before jumping into some sweats. Right now you were sitting on the kitchen counter beside Cameron, she was eating her cereal while you were nibbling on your granola bar, hair still wrapped up in a towel, legs dangling back and forth.

“Is it weird that I’m actually gonna miss this cabin?” You asked, looking around, feeling weirdly nostalgic. Even though you’d had your fair share of painful memories, the good memories overrode them by far.

“Not weird. I don’t wanna go back to college,” she paused, scooping up a huge bit of cereal in her mouth. “Now, that shit is painful.”

Lisa came into the room then, hair rollers on her head and she scowled.

“Cameron, language!” She scolded her, wagging a finger your way.

You and Cam looked at each other, giggling before you followed Lisa’s movements with your eyes, watching her rummage through the kitchen drawers before producing a pair of scissors. She hummed in satisfaction and began walking out of the kitchen, halting her steps in the last second.

“Aren’t you gonna get off your butts and get ready? We have to leave soon.” She asked, cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘move your asses before I drag you both upstairs’ before disappearing out of your sight.

Cameron sighed reluctantly, hopping off of the counter and placing the spoon in the sink, bringing the rim of the bowl to her lips so she could slurp the milk up. You chewed on the last bit of your granola, watching in amusement as she let out a small satisfied aahhh.

Grayson was standing in the middle of the room, facing the large mirror as he struggled with his bow tie. You whistled jokingly as you walked in, laughing when he stuck out his tongue at you.

“I can’t get this right.” He whined, letting his arms fall to his sides.

You rolled your eyes as he pouted, crossing the room to help him with his bow tie that he had managed to twist around in the complete opposite way, correcting it for him.

“You clean up well, Dolan.” You said as you took a step back, patting his shoulder with a limp hand and turning around to get rid of the towel on your head.

You draped it across the back of a chair and went to hunt down Cameron for her hairdryer.

* * *

Your dress was on, your heels were on, your make-up looked perfect and your hair was up in an elegant, twisted updo that Cameron had insisted on helping you with. Lisa knocked on Cameron’s door, yelling through the door that they were leaving and that you two would have to catch a ride with Ethan and Grayson. Cameron made a sound of acknowledgement, too busy trying to snap a decent enough selfie of the both of you to put up on Instagram. When you had deemed a few good enough for the social medias to see, you walked out into the hallway. Grayson was by the top of the stairs, tapping away on his phone while he waited for you.

“Cupcake, can you go grab Ethan? He’s been fussing with his hair for ages now and if I go, then I’ll probably end up strangling him.” Grayson pointed to his bedroom door and you nodded, suddenly feeling nervous.

You hadn’t talked to Ethan since last night while you two were dancing. During the morning you had seen him twice, once when you had bumped into his wet, half-naked body as he was stepping out of the bathroom, and the other time when he was ironing Sean’s shirt, laughing when he accidentally went ahead and burnt it by the collar. You smiled at the memory of Ethan laughing, so far into your thoughts that you halted in your steps when you found yourself by the doorway of Ethan’s room.

He was wearing a black tuxedo with a matching black bow tie and his hair was slicked back in the front, little wisps of it crooked by his forehead. You admired the strip of color that once was purple, it had now faded to white and it fit him so well.

Ethan looked up, body jerking with a gasp as he caught sight of you in the doorway. He breathed out, placing a hand on his heart. You giggled.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” You said, taking a step inside.

Ethan gave you a crooked smile before it quickly dropped, eyes roaming your body as he took your appearance in. You felt something tug at your heart when you saw his jaw slacken slightly, arms getting limp by his sides.

“Y/N…” He breathed and you blushed, jokingly twirling around slowly. You had intended it to be a joke to ease the mood, but when you faced Ethan again you almost stopped breathing. He was looking at you with emotions in his eyes you had never seen before, hands clenched into fists as he shook his head. “You look breathtaking.”

You refrained from biting into your lip, not wanting to get lipstick on your teeth. Nothing killed the mood more than lipstick on the teeth, or anything on the teeth for that matter.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, E.” You said, nothing but sincerity in your voice as you took him in. He looked gorgeous, and suddenly you felt stupid for having been hooked on the wrong twin.

Ethan gave you a smile, looking down at himself as if he had forgotten what he was wearing before locking eyes with you again.

“You think? Should I have my hair like this or just change it?” He frowned and you wanted to laugh at how conflicted he sounded.

You took a few steps forward until you were standing in front of him.

“I think you look handsome.” You whispered and his frown dissipated, an easy smile overtaking his beautiful face, cheeks dimpling.

You held your breath as you saw from the corner of your eye, his hand moving up your arm, spreading goosebumps all over your skin. Your eyes fell on his hand and then back up to his face, breath hitching as you locked eyes. His eyes seemed so much darker and he was so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your lips. Just a nudge and you’d close the small space between you two.

But of course, Grayson’s impatient voice echoed through the hallway, reaching the suddenly silent room you two were standing in the middle of. Ethan angled his head to the side, sucking in a breath as he closed his eyes and you stared at him in silence, scared to move. You resisted from gripping his arm when he leaned even further down, pecking your shoulder quickly before sidestepping.

“Let’s go.” He said and you breathed out, feeling a bit light-headed as you followed him out of the room, trying not to wobble.

* * *

It took everything in you not to cry as Lola and Tim said their I do’s, standing in front of their families and friends, sniffling. You had patted Cameron’s hand as she sniffled beside you, cursing under her breath. After the long undergoing process of taking pictures, you all migrated to the venue where the wedding reception was being held at.

The venue was beautiful and wherever you looked, you could see a happy face. You were at the moment standing by a corner, nursing a soda as you giggled quietly at Cam’s and Gray’s antics. They were trying to befriend the bartender, trying to get their hands on drinks that weren’t alcohol free. And judging by the looks of it, it wasn’t going well; the bartender had narrowed his eyes, rolled them, raised his eyebrows and snorted at every attempt made by the siblings.

“Y/N, dear..” You felt Lisa’s hand touch your shoulder and you turned to her. She engulfed you into a hug, patting your exposed back in a motherly way. You were confused. “Grayson came clean. I’m so upset with him for putting you through that.”

You felt your eyes widen before you could stop them, staring at Lisa, uncertain of what to even say.

“But I’m so glad that he has a loyal friend like you, my dear. I trust you to take care of them now that they live so far away from home,” she paused, smiling sadly. “Thank you.”

You looked at her, confusion still evident on your face probably. But you smiled at her and took her hand, squeezing it as response.

~

The night had gone well, people were a bit more tipsy now, having loud conversations and laughing while reminscing. You were sitting by the table with Grayson, Cameron and Ethan, sipping on your champagne that Cam finally had managed to get you. Ethan kept giving you looks from across the table and you were playing along, smiling into the rim of your flute as you took small sips. Your cheeks felt warm and flushed and they ached from all the smiling. Cameron rolled her eyes as she looked between you two, leaning in to whisper into Ethan’s ear. Ethan smiled at you and you smiled, looking out onto the dancefloor just as the song switched into Michael Bublé’s Everything.

“Wanna dance?” You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed Ethan get up from his seat, but he was standing in front of you with his hand outstretched.

You glanced at the other two siblings who were smiling like they knew about a secret that you didn’t.

“Sure.” You responded, putting your hand in Ethan’s, letting him pull you up.

He lead you to the dance floor, laughing when you stumbled over your long gown. You pouted, narrowing your eyes at him and he stuck his tongue out. The song picked up speed as it neared the chorus and you giggled as Ethan pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around your waist and yours going around his torso. You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his cologne as you both swayed slower than the beat of the song.

You danced through the song and when it was over, you went to pull away to get back to your seat. But Ethan had other plans as he held you in place, right in his arms. You hummed in content as you squeezed him closer to your body, hearing him laugh.

It was funny how you had been pining over Grayson, thinking that your feelings for him was anything beyond friendship. And you suffered through half of this trip, relying on Ethan to pick you up whenever you were feeling down. Thinking back on it now, he was the one who had always been there for you, trying his hardest to make you laugh and smile, offering you his shoulder to cry on, taking your side in a lot of arguments and stopping you whenever you were doing something wrong, keeping you on track.

He was the one. The one who’d go to the end of the earth for you, and you had been too blind to see it. But now, swaying in his arms as Keith Urban’s song blasted through the speakers, you felt happier than you had felt in a long time.

You didn’t know what prompted you to do it, maybe it was the strong surge of affection and love that crashed over you, or maybe it was the champagne. But you pulled away from him, leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“Meet me outside the toilets in two minutes.” You whispered, dragging your lips against the edge of his ear before pulling away. His eyes had darkened and he looked at you as you giggled, turning to strut away. You made sure to put an extra sway to your hips, knowing that he was watching.

You made it to the long hallway, sending a quick thank you to the sky as you realized that it was completely deserted. You bit down on your lowerlip, wondering how you would stand, debating whether this was a good idea or not. Footsteps made you turn though and you saw Ethan stalking toward you, smile creeping up on your lips as he smirked.

“Eth- Oh!” You squeaked as he wrapped one arm around your back, backing you into the wall and chasing your lips with. He gave you a blistering kiss, pressing his body against yours as he deepened it and you couldn’t help but moan. You grabbed the sides of his arms with your hands, pushing forward to make the most of the kiss.

You didn’t know for how long you stood there, so far gone in everything that was Ethan, his scent, his taste, his eyes, his touch. But you snapped out of it when you heard footsteps from a long distance, pushing Ethan back slightly. He moaned against your lips, leaning foward to go in for more but you giggled, pushing at his shoulder harder.

“What, baby?” He asked confusedly, hands tracing your naked back as he stared at you. You refrained from kissing his swollen lips, biting into your own instead.

“Someone’s coming.” You whispered and it seemed like that was what snapped him out of the state he was in, frowning when he heard the steps getting closer.

He pulled off completely, going to lean against the wall in front of you in a casual manner and you pouted at him, already missing the warmth of his body against yours. Your head turned as somebody rounded the corner, probably a relative of Ethan’s because he smiled politely at her, nodding in greeting. You stared at him in awe, something twisting deep in your stomach as you took in his disheveled state. His mouth was subtly stained with your lipstick, hair laying curly and flat on his head, strands sticking out in different directions, tuxedo wrinkled and cheeks flushed. 

He looked like a mess, but as he locked eyes with you, you couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t want him any other way. He was yours.

THE END! I’m so emotional :’(

[ciathyzareposts]

Ween : The Prophecy – Alternative paths and Final Rating

Written by Alfred n the Fettuc

Before submitting WEEN to the PISSED rating, we need to study the alternative paths that you can take through the game. I counted two (but I might also have missed something), one using the fish amulet to breathe underwater, and the other attainable by choosing the second door when you exit the temple, just before the ant garden.

The first hint about an alternative path comes from our friend URM

First alternative path : Sea monsters eating each others.

Restarting the game, I scan once more every screen to see what I could have missed but don’t find anything before the lake itself (I still don’t know if I can do anything with the bolt I found on OHKRAM’s balcony by the way). Turns out that on the first venom/pollen puzzle, there is a very tiny leave hidden in the corner of the screen.

Obvious isn’t it?

Considering all the pixel-hunting I had to do in order to progress later in the game, I’m really surprised I didn’t spot the leaves on my first play-through. I think at this point of the game, I didn’t really need to search every nook and cranny of every place I went. Anyway, I make the monster appear on the bridge, get the feather, use it to make the venom and pollen appear in the chest, and mix a potion of growth out of the two reagents. And what do you know…

More strawberries!!!

I call URM and give him the strawberries. Joyful, he drops a small ingot of gold that fits perfectly with the half-statue to make a complete fish amulet. Guess it means that URM had the amulet since the very beginning and just didn’t give it to me because I didn’t have enough strawberries in my pocket… stupid greedy bat. Using the amulet on the water allows me to enter it and breathe underwater. URM comes back afterwards and get back the Elixir from me, so the hint of an alternative path works whatever path you choose. Nice touch.

Do fishermen dream of electric fish?

Just before arriving on this screen, I witness a little cutscene with a big barracuda-like fish eating some kind of metal pole. When I click on the seaweeds on the left of the screen, a little fish appears and get eaten by the same barracuda-like fish, that WEEN describes as a wurk, a greedy fish that could eat anything. I’m starting to suspect that we’ll have to make him eat the electric fish one way or another. Clicking on the staircase sets a trap where iron bars appear from the wall to stop me from going up. Messing with the electric fish gets me zapped. I spend some time looking around until a little bug appears… it’s our friend the useless mosquito sent by KRAAL!

Hey there little buddy, I thought I would only kick your ass much later in the game…

I catch it pretty easily and feed it to the electric fish… Just when I was wondering if it meant that taking this alternative path would make the mosquito disappear from the rest of the game, another one quietly arrives and lands at the exact same place. I’m guessing KRAAL has an infinite army of mosquitos underlings for some reason. Knowing that the electric fish seems to love mosquitos, I get the other insect and drop it near the hole where the wurk is hidden. It exits and eats the fish, resulting in death by electrocution. I grab the glass piece on the ground and cuts the wurk open.

Gross

I use the steel bar found into the belly of the beast in the small hole near the door, making it bigger. Clicking on the hole now makes another marine monstrosity appear as a moray eel tries to catch me. Messing with the seaweeds on the left make another innocent fish wander around and gets eaten by the moray eel.

Underwater massacre

Inside the fish I find a harpoon point (what do they eat in that lake?) that I combine with my metal bar to make a perfectly fine harpoon. Trying to use it in the moray eel hiding place doesn’t work though. Looking in the seaweed to find another fish, I catch it with my harpoon before it gets eaten and then feed it to the moray eel, hoping it would choke on my harpoon, but no. It just eats the fish and spits back my harpoon. What a nice monstrosity. Pixel-hunting the place once more, I discover a crack on the side of the barred staircase. Destroying a part of the wall with my harpoon, and trying to climb the staircase once again breaks the trap. However, the iron bars are now stuck in the stone.

Not for the marine life around here, that’s for sure.

Using my trusty harpoon, I catch another fish from the seaweed and put it between the iron bars. It works! The moray eel catch the harpoon point and forces the iron bars open with its voracity. Now that’s what I call one hungry fish! Finally, I’m able to exit this horrible place and get to the entrance of the dragon temple with the wasp trap and the snake.

So all in all, this path allows me to avoid the goblin-looking statue with its sword and the Orivor puzzle. I kinda prefer the underwater path as I think the puzzles are more fun. However, I’ll probably never go in a lake again in my life now that I’ve seen what’s in it…

Second alternative path : Laser-eye petrifying dinosaurs

After getting the three grains of sand and exiting the temple (and before the two dimwits lost my haversack), I was presented with two doors. The door on the right, that I chose, brought me to the ant garden puzzle where I had to mix a digitalis meal for the ant queen. Selecting the door on the left brings me to another garden, where some kind of huge laser-eyes dinosaur petrifies URM the second we get in!

We hold the winner in the Coktel Vision teeth contest

PETROY appears and tells me that KOR, the deity that’s pictured on the left, can help URM, but I need to give him offerings. Namingly, the power of thunder, the star of light and the wealth of the tide… Just that. I grab what appears to be a net (probably in order to get the wealth of the tide. I knew I should have brought another dead fish from the underwater segment). Trying to operate the well tells me that I need a handle to work the pulley. The right of the screen allows me to exit to another part of the garden.

A grill? Maybe I’ll be able to barbecue the wealth of the tide…

Getting the grill allows a huge orange crab to exit the trap. I grab a fish from the river with my net. Clicking a second time on the river makes the fairy of the river appear! She tells me that in her river lives a crab with sharp pincers (doh!), and that great riches can be found in the water. Trying to use the grill as a sieve doesn’t work though. Not finding anything else, I go back to the statue of KOR in order to offer him the fish I just caught. No reaction. So I guess the wealth of the tide refers to actual wealth. Pixel-hunting the first screen, I find that I can remove the hoop from the barrel.

You know? For kids!

Using the grill in the hoop, I make an actual sieve. Using it on the river allows me to get a few gold nuggets. Going back to the statue, I can put the nuggets at the feet of the statue but nothing happens. I guess he wants the three elements before doing anything. I realize I still have a fish in my inventory and go back to the river. Putting the fish in the trap next to it makes the big orange crab come back in order to devour this meal. I catch the crab (with my bare hands… WEEN is clearly braver than me). Not finding anything to do with it, I try using my other inventory items everywhere. Putting the sword in the hand of the statue, it attracts lightning! After hitting the sword, the lightning falls on the ground and I can grab it in my hands.

Pretty sure that’s not how lightning works.

Trying to put the lightning on the pedestal to offer KOR the “power of thunder”, WEEN tells me that he’s got far better things to do with this object for the moment… So first, thank you, protagonist, for this hint but could you please do as you’re told? Secondly, ok, what else can I do with a solidified lightning? Use it as a handle for the well of course! I pull up something that looks like a chest from the bottom of the well and I can put the lightning on the pedestal afterwards. Thank you, WEEN! The chest is locked by a heavy metal chain that I use my crab to cut. It still doesn’t open, though, so I get my sword back and use it as a lever to open the chest (swords used as levers during the game : 4). Inside the chest is a key that I use to open the lock under the beast statue. In it I find a sun effigy, which is sure to be “the star of light”. I put it on the pedestal and KOR reanimates URM, who doesn’t take long to be his normal self again!

Ungrateful fruit-eating bastard

And then I arrive at the garden with the view on Volcano Island, the worm and the giant mushrooms. I tend to prefer this path also to the one with the ant queen, if only because I spent way too much time on the ant queen screen turning my copper ball into a pipe and a cauldron and vice-versa…

FINAL RATING

Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. I tend to be a bit afraid of the PISSED rating because I know this game is fondly remembered by many, but I’ll try my best to give it a fair trial.

Puzzles and Solvability

The puzzles are pretty fun overall. The game is a nice suite of inventory-based puzzles and there are a lot of them. However, the game is a bit on the easy side and a few of the puzzles are repetitive without enough differences between them. The room with the fireflies comes to mind where you’re supposed to repeat the same tedious steps five times. The other problem is that you stumble a bit too often on the solution instead of wanting to do something and successfully do it. That’s usually the issue with games with a single “action” button (as opposed to a list of verbs or a parser), in my humble opinion, but in this kind of games where things happen because “magic”, I think that clicking on random things and see what happens is a big part of the fun, like a less chaotic version of Gobliins 2.

When the game avoids being too easy, however, it tends to fall pretty quickly in the “obscure” territory. The dragon battle, for example comes to mind, or the potion mixing.

Never forget the mighty battle of the cat and the beagle.

Thorough pixel-hunting is a huge part of the game as well and it can be infuriating at times, especially when you think you have the good solution and can’t make it work. Globally, the game could do with a little more hints, even subtle ones. Too often was I stumbling in the dark just trying to make something happen with no clear objective of my goal.

Having two branching paths (even if it’s for a short period of time) is great though, and adds replayability, which is still rare enough in adventure games to be underlined.

Final Score : 6. Overall, the puzzle design is solid, pleasant and there are a lot of things to do. A few roadblocks are difficult enough without being unsolvable. The fact that you are too often stumbling in the dark is what prevents it to get a 7, but just quite.

Interface and Inventory

As was noted by Ilmari in his playthrough of Gobliins 2, the interface shares some similarities, which is a novelty for a Coktel Vision game. It’s probably because it works. You can combine inventory items, use items on yourself, etc. I think the guys at Coktel were working on something that would be used in all of their games at the time if only because they left the “fast movement” icon in the menu without using it once in the game. It was Coktel’s take on something similar to the SCUMM engine, even if not as brilliant.

There is even a notepad to keep track of whatever seems important (like potion recipes)

The interface is overall pretty functional, but it has a few flaws that really get irritating in the long run. I’ve rambled enough on the transformations of the copper ball/sword/pipe/cauldron. It’s because you do that ALL THE TIME. And what is a charming little animation in the beginning of the game are excruciating when you do that fifteen times in a row because you’re trying to solve a puzzle and don’t know which tool to use. The fact that you have to go through the copper ball transformation every time you want to change the sword into a cauldron is more irritating than it has any right to be.

There are other issues as well. Using the glue on the firefly works but not the other way around. Granted, it makes more sense in this order but when you’re trying to find the solution to an obscure puzzle, you don’t necessarily try the two sides of an item interaction. There is also a little “slugginess” to the whole game (like a few milliseconds too long) that makes the whole thing a little too slow for my taste. But it might also be the emulator I used so I won’t take it into account.

The integrated joker system is a nice touch. In a time before the internet, it was always a solution to make some progress in the game if you’re completely stuck. I tried it here and there after my playthrough, though, and it could beneficiate from a little subtlety by guiding you on the right path instead of telling the solutions outright. But still, it’s always better than throwing the game disks against a wall in frustration.

Final Score : 4. Functional, but a few issues tarnish the whole experience here and there.

Story and Setting

Well… this one is tricky. I’m pretty sure the story as a whole made some kind of sense to someone at Coktel Vision (or they were under a lot of drugs), but after having completed the game, I still have little clues about exactly who is OPALE, what the REVUSS is, what the BORGOL is, why the two stupid twins change their height every five seconds, etc… The whole story comes out as quite a mess, and it’s not a translation issue as I’ve tried the french version and it’s more or less the same thing.

I still want someone to explain to me why my haversack was an owl the whole time…

Then again, the whole “it’s magic” works with this universe and the sense of mystery permeates everything, but that’s something that enters in another category. As a story in and by itself, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’d also love to have some kind of confrontation with KRAAL at the end instead of an over-complicated Bond villain scheme to foil. It’s like if at the end of Legend of Kyrandia, you just had to disarm a trap instead of confronting Malcolm while you’ve spent the whole game chasing him.

The same can be said about the places you’re exploring. Once you exit the cave complex from underneath OHKRAM’s house, you spend your time going in and out of caves and gardens with little coherence. It’s not a big deal in itself, as most of the puzzles are self-contained to one screen, but it doesn’t make you feel like you’re making any progress, more like you’re being lugged around random places.

Final score : 3. The story is serviceable, nothing else. You solve puzzles and sometimes, someone talks to you spouting nonsense.

Sound and Graphics

In the visual department, the game suffers from a strange dichotomy. The places you explore are mostly pretty and nicely detailed. The catacombs and temples are creepy enough and the whole “sunsets and moonlight” ambiance suits the magical atmosphere overall. However, I found the monster and creature design to be quite hideous, to be honest. The dragon, the orivors, the mosquitos… I guess a monster is supposed to be ugly, and it’s also a matter of taste, but I frankly disliked the overall creature design.

The horror… the horror…

And then there are digitized actors in Halloween masks integrated in all this. If you remove UBI and ORBI little dance, all of them are mostly shot in close-ups and there is a little “cheap” feeling about all this, like a bad short-feature horror film. On the other hand, it’s nice enough to have integrated digitized actors in the first place in this day and age.

On the sound department, the whole ambiance is great and the music is pretty nice (even if it could have benefited from a little more tracks because it tends to repeat itself pretty quickly). The sound effects have nice swishes and swooshes that add to the magical theme and all of this is of pretty good quality overall.

Final Score : 5. Pretty good overall but a few hits and misses in the design department. Good music though.

Environment and Atmosphere

Despite the odd design choices and a few elements that I could easily have done without (UKI, ORBI and your little dance, I’m looking at you), if there is something that you can’t reproach Ween : The Prophecy for, is its atmosphere. The whole game is full of magic, weird things and every new screen is an invitation to explore and find what new kinds of surprises the game holds for you. The mysterious statues that are found everywhere, the magical beings you’re encountering… Add to that the whole sunset/moonlight feeling that you have for most of the game and you have the feeling of a magical world ending.

When the sun in the sky looks like this, it’s time to go to the nearest shelter

The use of colors is also to be commended. The whole game is painted in dominant colors (mainly orange and purple) and it really adds to the atmosphere (despite a few clashes here and there).

However (because we always need a however), once again, a few choices go against the whole thing. There is sometimes goofiness that would be more in its place in a Gobliiins game, sometimes alternating immediately with something more mysterious. I think the developers were trying to alternate between mysterious and funny, but it sometimes doesn’t work. Managing a “hot and cold” ambiance (like, let’s say, the early movies of Tim Burton, for example) is something that’s really hard to achieve and I can’t help but feel like the developers should have chosen a direction and stick with it instead of trying to alternate between serious and goofy.

Final Score : 6. Great magical atmosphere, marred sometimes by odd goofy moments. Dialog and Acting

Like I’ve said earlier, a lot of the exposition text and dialog is pretty nonsensical. Sometimes, the ORACLE or the BORGOL (whatever the latter is) appear and tell you a lot of things, much of it not making a lot of sense… Some other times, OHKRAM appears and tells you you’ve gained a grain of sand even if you weren’t really trying to do so… Most of the interactions with the animals and sentient beings you cross path with are nice without being really noteworthy.

The exception to this rule is URM, your vampire buddy, which is the most competently written character. His lines are sometimes funny, especially when you call him for no reason. He’s helping and mocking in equal measures and is a pretty good sidekick.

And he really seems to enjoy doing evil deeds, which is a good thing in my book

The rest of the sidekicks are not that great. PETROY spends most of the time telling you “he can’t tell you anything about that” when you ask him for help, but sometimes, he drops a clue that’s mandatory to understand the puzzles. And I think I’ve rambled enough on UKI and ORBI, but let’s say that every time their ugly mugs appear, you know you’re here for what appears like full minutes listening to their stupid dances and songs. And the fact that you can’t speed up the dialog doesn’t help, especially if you reload to earlier stages of the game you’ve already suffered through.

The acting in itself is mainly digitized people in Halloween masks waving and doing over the top gestures to make their point, so it’s nothing to write home about. At least, the final animation of KRAAL apparently trying to peel his face off is satisfactory enough.

Final Score : 4. Apart for URM, nothing really stands out, and the twins are consistently cringeworthy.

Final Score

So without further ado, the final score equals (6+4+3+5+6+4/0.6) = 47! I’ll add one discretionary point for the fact that, despite all its quirks and errors, the whole experience was overall pretty pleasant and I think it’ll stick with me as a good memory. And I realize now that doing so gives it the exact same score of the first Gobliiins and five points above The Legend of Djel, so kudos to Coktel for upping their game since Bargon Attack and Emmanuelle!

Congrats on your score guess, Lugh, you earn CAPs!

I’m glad I was able to finally play through this game. I had memories of it for a long time ago and being able to make some real progress on it instead of being stuck on the second screen like the stupid kid I was made me feel like an achievement! See you around and thank you all for your attention and your comments!

CAP Distribution

100 CAPs to Alfred n the Fettuc

Blogger Award – 100 CAPs – for playing through Ween for everyone’s enjoyment

115 CAPs to Joe Pranevich

Vohaul Award – 5 CAPs – for letting us know that Infamous Adventures have just released a new version of Space Quest II

Festive Blogger Award – 60 CAPs – for blogging through A Christmas Adventure with a bonus interlude for everyone’s enjoyment

Classic Blogger Award – 50 CAPs – for blogging through Crash Dive for everyone’s enjoyment

105 CAPs to Ilmari Jauhiainen

Djel Historian Award – 5 CAPs – For giving us worrying details about DJEL and AZEULISSE real relationship

Classic Blogger Award – 50 CAPs – for blogging through Growing Pains of Adrian Mole for everyone’s enjoyment

Classic Blogger Award – 50 CAPs – for blogging through The Price of Magik for everyone’s enjoyment

70 CAPs to Will Moczarski

Classic Blogger Award – 50 CAPs – for blogging through The Institute for everyone’s enjoyment

Intermission Award – 20 CAPs – for a 1981 Summary of Med Systems Software

51 CAPs to Vetinari

True Companion Award – 20 CAPs – for playing along

Alternative Award – 6 CAPs – for giving hints about the alternative paths

The Ball and the Cauldron Award – 5 CAPs – for agreeing with my rambling about the copper ball transformation and alerting me about the potion mixing nightmare.

Psychic Prediction Award – 10 CAPs – for  being the closest guesser to the Price of Magic PISSED rating

Psychic Prediction Award – 10 CAPs – for correctly guessing The Institute’s PISSED rating

32 CAPs to MorpheusKitami

True Companion Award – 20 CAPs – for playing along.

Back Of His Hand Award – 5 CAPs – for sharing his interesting insight on a game that he knows very well

Djel and Azeulisse Award – 5 CAPs – for guessing that Djel and Azeulisse were probably deadbeat parents

Alternative Award – 6 CAPs – for giving hints about the alternative paths

Size Does Matter Award – 5 CAPs – for engaging in a discussion about the two stupid twins real size

Lost Bet Award (Unaward?) – -10 CAPs – For betting against me that I wouldn’t find the answer to the snake puzzle

Ho Ho Oh… Award – 1 CAP – for remembering a Christmas game we could play… but not knowing we’d already played it

20 CAPs to Mr. Sack

What’s Your Story Award – 20 CAPs – for submitting his answers to our What’s Your Story questions

15 CAPs to Lugh

Psychic Prediction Award – 10 CAPs – for correctly predicting the PISSED rating

Gene and Dean Award – 5 CAPs – for telling us about the Ween band that might have (or not) something to do with the title change

10 CAPs to Rowan Lipkovits

33 and 1/3 Award – 5 CAPs – for the surprising news that games have actually been distributed on vinyl records

Do Androids Dream of Kindle Paperwhites Award – 5 CAPs – for knowing how reading in dreams works

10 CAPs to ShaddamnIVth

Minotaur Award – 5 CAPs – for actually programming a labyrinth while studying

Do Androids Dream of Kindle Paperwhites Award – 5 CAPs – for knowing how reading in dreams works

5 CAPs to Jonathan

The Doctor Is In Award – 5 CAPs – for giving us chilling details about the digitalis and its effect on rats

5 CAPs to Deano

Cold As Balls Award – 5 CAPs – for letting Ilmari know the likely background to the brass monkey puzzle in Price of Magik

5 CAPs to Andy_Panthro

Alchemist Award – 5 CAPs – for finally explaining to me why people bite gold

5 CAPs to Laukku

Pixel Filtering Award – 5 CAPs – for alerting me that my emulation software was filtering pixels

5 CAPs to Mayhaym

Wario Ware Award – 5 CAPs – for appreciating that sometimes you need to pick the nose of a demon dog

5 CAPs to Corey Cole

Rutabaga Award – 5 CAPs – for answering Will’s question, and adding more historical context to a character from The Institute

5 CAPs to Lisa H.

The Shape of Watercraft Award – 5 CAPs – for pointing out that all submarines are long, thin and full of seamen

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/ween-the-prophecy-alternative-paths-and-final-rating/