#like water or housing. not a fucking fast food chain. i hope you get killed and eaten !!

[makedamnsvre]

so mad at my sister for being obsessed with chickfila like she was on the phone with her boyfriend like "i wish you didnt have a severe and potentially fatal peanut allergy so that you could eat chickfila" are you insane. i wish i could do some kind of like evil cocomelon pavlov shit like playing hypno stuff while shes asleep to like associate chickfila with some kind of horrible trauma so that whenever she even thinks about it she gets horrible flashbacks or ptsd or something. i hope every chickfila gets bombed and they go bankrupt and that the people who own chickfila are brutally killed and cannibalized live on national television in High Definition

[peantutbutter]

69. “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.” with Michael, Gavin and Jeremy please!

 69. (nice) “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

Trigger Warning for brief mentions of animal abuse. Nothing is graphically explicit and everything turns out ok and the dog is rescued, but the thought of an injured animal is triggering or otherwise too emotionally distressing for you, go ahead and keep scrolling

The Mad Lad’s Animal Rescue Agency [ao3]

It’s odd.

As far as Michael knows, both Gavin and Jeremy are what he would consider cat people. Pets aren’t allowed in the penthouse, of course, but both get swept up in conversations about what they would name potential future cats, and both go out of their way to set out food and water for the strays of the city.

So when the two come to him cooing and gushing about a sweet looking pit bull they’ve met, Michael is a little astonished when they start telling him their plans for whisking her away in the dead of night.

“We’re not stealing someone’s dog,” he deadpans, and he can’t fucking believe that he has to say it.

“Awww, c’mon Michael, why not? Lookat her!” Gavin whines, shoving his phone in his face.

And, yeah, alright, she’s fucking cute — chocolate brown fur; a light pink tongue lolling out of her mouth; a tail that’s blurry because it’s wagging so fast; and large, shining brown eyes that are staring adoringly at Gavin in the selfie he’s taken — but Michael can’t just let his boys go off and steal a dog for no good reason. “Because it’ll shit all over the goddamn floor!” he argues. “Where are we gonna keep her, Gavin? We gonna make her ride an elevator every time she needs to take a piss?”

But the thing about Gavin is that once he gets something in his head, there’s really no stopping him. And with Jeremy involved, really, all Michael can do is hope to mitigate the inevitable collateral damage.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning when Michael pulls into what is possibly the most boring middle class neighborhood and parks across the street from a house that looks like the dozens of others surrounding it. He cuts the engine of their unmarked van and looks to Gavin and Jeremy making their last-minute preparations in the back. The entire vehicle smells like peanut butter and Gavin slaps Jeremy’s hand away from the bag of bacon he had fried up before leaving. “That’s not for you!” he hisses.

Jeremy pouts indignantly, but lets it be. They grab a pair of bolt cutters, while Gavin stuffs his pockets full of treats and clips various dog toys to his belt. A brightly colored rope dangles from his hips, and right beside it a squeaky chicken. He pauses for a minute, tennis ball in hand, and frowns thoughtfully, trying to figure out where to place it.

Ultimately, he sets it down, deciding that his skirt of toys is sufficient.

Jeremy pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a leash dangling from a hook. They shoot Gavin an eager look, which he eagerly returns.

“You look like fucking idiots,” Michael says, because one: it’s true, and two: he apparently has a compulsive need to kill the mood if it’s stupid, like this one. Gavin and Jeremy just look at him, still smiling, mischief gleaming in their eyes. Michael rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “Go get the damn dog.”

The other two excitedly scramble out of the car and crouch-run their way across the street, like they’re on some sort of actual heist. Michael barely suppresses an eye roll. It’s not like the hazy moonlight or streetlamps are illuminating the street or anything. Idiots.

He watches them stealth their way to a chain-link fence. On the other side, Michael can make out what appears to be a ramshackle doghouse, and a tiny figure curled up just outside it. He can’t hear it, but he assumes Gavin whistles or does something to get the dog’s attention, because the figure’s head pops up and it pushes itself onto it’s legs.

Or at least it tries.

Jeremy is clipping away at the fence when Michael notices how the poor thing’s back paws are dragging uselessly along the ground. Her tail wags furiously as she crawls over to Gavin, but she isn’t moving very fast.

Oh. That’s why they’d been so adamant about doing this.

His knuckles turn white, and the steering wheel creaks under his grip. That familiar burn courses through his body, licking flames up and down his arms and legs. The vein in his jaw throbs, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Going in and beating the owner senseless is tempting — “How does it feel, huh? How does it fucking feel? — but running in blindly, fists flying, would be reckless and stupid. And while he has his moments, tonight he’s the sensible one.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself. But when a light flicks on in the house while Jeremy is in the middle of unhooking the dog’s chain and latching their own, all of Michael’s self restraint leaves him. There’s a shadow moving throughout the house, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He pulls the baseball bat from the passenger footwell and tears out of the van.

Gavin exclaims loudly as Michael rips past.

“Get the dog outta here, I’ll cover you!” Michael yells, and his lifetime of hopping fences pays off as he effortlessly scales the wire structure. His feet land on the ground with a soft thump and gets into position on the other side of the sliding glass door. He chokes up on the bat, ready to swing.

Jeremy finally manages to slip the hook of their leash through the loop on the dog’s collar just as the door slides open. The man inside is screaming angrily, but Michael doesn’t hear what he’s saying. He’s more focused on how he’s going to make this dickbag scream for another reason.

The guy steps outside, not seeing Michael where he hides just behind him, and he reaches for something tucked in his waistband. The second Michael realizes it’s a gun, he pounces, striking the guy in the back of the knees and bringing the bat down on the guy’s back with a satisfying crack.

He fucking whales on the guy, letting all that righteous anger course through him. Each strike shakes his bones, and he’s pleasantly reminded why this is his primary weapon of choice. There’s something so deliciously personal about taking a guy apart with a big stick. He keeps swinging until he’s sure Gavin and Jeremy have pulled the poor pup to safety. The bastard is curled into the fetal position, and his gun, which Michael had kicked away, lay just out of reach.

The horn of the van blares — one of his lads letting him know they’re clear — and Michael brings the bat down for a final strike. It makes a wet crunch against the back of the guy’s head. He’s not one hundred percent sure whether the guy is unconscious or actually dead. He doesn’t particularly care. He’s got no love for people who beat their animals, and, frankly, he’s killed for less.

His arms burn, and as he wipes blood from his face, he realizes that the lights in the surrounding houses are flicking on. The sound of an approaching siren kicks him into gear. He scrambles over the fence — a feat more difficult now that his limbs feel gooey with exertion — and books it across the street.

The engine revs as Jeremy puts the key in the ignition. Sirens are growing closer, and tired civilians are emerging from their homes to see what the fuss is about. The doors to the back are wide open, and Gavin, gently cradling the dog, yells at him to “Hurry up!”

Michael flings himself into the back of the van, and Jeremy takes off like a bullet, tires squealing against the asphalt, leaving behind the scent of burned rubber.

They fly out of the neighborhood, and Jeremy takes a few random turns, shaking any potential pursuers off their trail. All the while, Gavin is cooing at the creature in his arms. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good Bella?” he asks. “Who doesn’t have to worry about that mean old man ever again? Yes, it’s you!”

He pets Bella until she calms down, mindful of her legs, which rest gingerly on the seat. Slowly, her eyes drift shut, and she falls asleep under his touch. He smiles softly, and Michael can’t help but do the same at the scene before him.

Then Gavin turns to look at him. “Thank you, Michael,” he murmurs, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Michael shrugs. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me why you wanted to steal this guy’s dog in the first place.”

“Ah, well…” Gavin pauses for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to say. “Lil J and I kind of figured you riding out your rage would be the best cover in case we got caught. And that’s something that only really happens in the moment. So we needed you going in blind.”

Michael stares blankly for a moment, blinking slowly, trying to understand the reasoning. “You didn’t tell me,” he says slowly, “because you wanted me to be pissed off enough to attack a guy in case he caught you.”

Gavin presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah.”

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You two are fucking ridiculous,” he says. Then his gaze travels towards the peacefully sleeping dog. “What are you going to do with her?”

Gavin shrugs. “Gonna get our medic to take a look at her and see what he can do. After that…I dunno, try to find a nice place for her to live. Fredo’s been saying he wants a dog, so maybe he’ll be willing to take care of her.”

“So you never planned on her living in the penthouse, did you?” Michael asks.

“Of course not, Michael boy,” Gavin answers easily. His eyes sparkle with humor. “We’re not gonna make her ride the elevator every time she needs to take a leak.”

[frostedfaves]

Taken

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped by a perp whose real objective is her colleague and boyfriend Jake. Will he get to her in time?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, angst and more angst

-

There is at least one big moment in every young woman's life that she regrets immensely. Sometimes it's dating a horrible person and realizing far too late. Or maybe it's that outfit that truly belonged in a dumpster but somehow ended up in your closet instead. My biggest regret was being considerate of Jake's sleep.

We went to his place after work for date night because he'd finally found an old movie we were looking for and I didn't have a DVD player. We've been together long enough to love each other and we do, the topic of living together brought up a couple times before we both realized that neither of us are quite ready to give up our separate spaces yet. So we go to Jake's and we watch a movie.

-

"In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best mood to set on date night," Jake muttered as he turned to me, wiping a few tears from his cheeks.

"Nonsense! I think ugly crying to a great American heartbreaking tale with my boyfriend is completely romantic!" I countered through chuckles to cover up my lingering sobs, causing Jake to laugh with me.

"You're a riot." He helped me clear my cheeks as well before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm exhausted. Wanna call it one? I'm too tired for sexy times but I'm willing to compromise and do hand stuff."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him as I allowed myself to sink into his hold for a moment. "No, I shouldn't stay."

"What? You always stay on date night. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Everything's fine. The surgery scene just reminded me that I'm supposed to drop my mom off in the morning for a minor procedure before work. My mom's house and the hospital are on the other side of town and if I leave from here, I'll have to wake up like half an hour earlier."

"I don't mind getting up with you, babe."

"Jacob." I pushed myself into a sitting position, my tone falling flat so he knew to take me seriously. "You've been busting your ass for weeks now to catch your perp, and you got the next best thing--his right hand man. You deserve every second of rest you can get."

He stared at me for a while, a slight pout on his lips. "Alright, fine." He sighed heavily as he stood, pulling me to my feet as well.

"You'll see me in the morning, I promise. I love you, Jakey."

"I love you, too. See you tomorrow."

-

Tomorrow is here and I still haven't seen Jake. The windowless cement block of a room couldn't tell me how long I was unconscious, but the ache in my stiff muscles told me it was well past morning. A range of emotions hit me as my eyes focused on my current reality.

Fear.

I feared where I was, of course I did. I can't check my surroundings if it's all just gray walls, the only difference being the rusty chains that held me to one of them.

I feared not knowing who brought me here, how many there were, the intention behind bringing me here.

I feared time. How much had passed, how much I had left. How much of it I'd spent in such deafening and suffocating silence and what would finally disrupt the still air.

Worry.

I worried about not being the only one stolen from what I deemed to be my normal life.

I worried about the mess of blood that hadn't been cleared away from the side of my head.

I worried about the foggy in-and-out single stream of consciousness that I just barely held onto.

I worried about whether or not my mom made it to her surgery or if she spent the entire day in the police station worrying even more than I was.

The thought caused anger to rush in like an uninvited guest.

What could I have possibly done to end up here? I arrest criminals all day long, but none of them are capable of this. I'd love to rip these chains out of the wall and tightly wrap them around the throat of my captor. The thought alone caused the nausea bubbling up from my stomach to turn into something else, something stronger, something that was destined to get me into more trouble.

"You mind letting me the fuck out of here?!"

Like that. That kind of trouble.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere as they announced the arrival of another person. With the knowledge that someone else was in fact here came the return of worry. Or maybe it was fear. I can't quite tell the distinction over the little voice in my head that scolds me for being the thing to break the quiet.

A piece of the wall opened up and spit out a tall figure drowning in black fabric. From the tip of their worker boots all the way up to the ski mask that hid their identity from me.

"You want something?"

A male voice was all I was able to catch. I stayed quiet and kept my head down, hoping my silence would irritate him into talking more.

"What, you lost your tongue or something?"

I still couldn't tell who it was on voice alone.

"Oh, I get it. You want to do this face to face."

I lifted my head just as he ripped off his ski mask, and I quickly bit my lip to stifle my gasp. I recognized that stupid face. Unfortunately for me, he could tell.

"You know who I am, baby?" His steps were the only sound in the hollow space as he came to kneel in front of me. Before I could even blink, he had my jaw held tightly in his left hand, his right hand pushing the end of a blade into my skin.

"Say my name," he practically growled, sending shivers down my spine. I quickly obliged, well aware that I did not have the upperhand in the situation.

"Marco."

"My whole name," he demanded as he pressed further into my skin, responding to my involuntary whimper with a shake of his left hand. "Say it."

"Marco Fallio."

"Good." He quickly pocketed the knife, keeping his gaze on me. "I can't wait to hear you scream that later. It's gonna be fun." He winked as he stood finally, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as he turned his back on me.

"What am I doing here, Marco?"

"I figured since Detective Peralta took my right hand man, I was free to take his."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I saw you two disgusting lovebirds kiss after stuffing my boy inside the back of a cop car." He faced me again suddenly, pulling out a burner phone as he approached me. "What's his number?" He noticed my hesitation and laughed. "You want him to know I have you, right? Or should I just kill you now and send pieces of you until your boyfriend gets the hint?"

I sighed, closing my eyes as I recited the number to him. I listened to him dial, only opening my eyes again when the ringing stopped.

"Peralta."

It was only one word, but it was enough to break my heart. He sounded so defeated and tired, like the rest I begged him to get did nothing but further exhaust him. The thought brought tears to my eyes instantly.

"Hey Peralta, buddy. Fallio here."

"If you're calling to negotiate your friend out of jail, it's not going to happen. He's going to lead me straight to you."

Fallio laughs in a light way that suggests he was talking to an old friend, and not a detective that wanted him behind bars. "You know, I thought you may say that. So I got something that I think might change your mind."

In a few lightning fast motions, the knife was out again, slicing the fabric of my jeans and the skin of my thigh underneath. A strangled yell crossed the threshold of my lips before I could stop it as the burning sensation pulsated through the newly opened wound.

"Y/N! Marco I swear to God, you better--"

"Yeah, yeah. Talk soon!" He ended the call with a grin, turning his attention back to me. "Don't worry, I'll call him back. Let's have a little fun first."

-

I want death. I want to die. It seems to be the quickest and possibly the only way to escape Marco Fallio, and at this point, I'll take anything.

Maybe I'll get lucky and survive this, and I'll apply to work for the FBI. With all the cuts and bruises and dried and not so dry blood that now covers so much of my skin, they'll be sure to think I'm tough enough to handle any case.

Or I could quit law enforcement altogether. Become a baker. I'm good at it, and there's less of a chance of this happening again when you're just minding your business and selling fresh food. However, in this baker fantasy I'd still be dating Jake. So this could very well happen again.

Jake. I miss Jake. His name is the only constant thing I remember every time I come back. Every time I open my eyes and remind myself that I'm locked in this room in God knows where for who knows how much time. Jacob Peralta, the only thing I hear in my head as Marco does some other series of painful acts that makes me scream until my throat burns from the force, or until he pushes just a little too far and I pass out again.

"Hey, wake up."

I feel the light but aggressive pats on my face, a long groan pushing from the depths of my lungs and falling out amidst a heavy breath that smacks right into Marco's face immediately. As he has been for the past seconds, days, months, years, he's entirely too close. Which means I'm in for another beating.

His rough hands pull me off my pathetic position on the cool floor and thrust me back first into the wall behind me once again, gripping my jaw to hold my head in place. His thumb forces my bottom lip to part from the top as he begins to carefully pour water into my mouth.

"You're giving me nothing and this is growing old. Time to light some fire under your man's ass."

He pulled the phone out again and talked as I focused on swallowing the water, struggling to keep my eyes open. I felt the phone being pressed to my ear followed by Marco's voice.

"Any last words, Y/N?"

My mind flashed back to the movie Jake and I watched together. The main character's last words were in a suicide note she'd written to her boyfriend. It was a long shot, thinking that Jake would even remember this or that it would help him at all, but as Jake would say, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!" So I finished swallowing the water and took the shot.

"I knew about everything. That's why I died."

His hand released my jaw as he hung up again, allowing me to slide to the floor again. I could only hope now that I'd done enough. That by connecting the dots he'd realized that I--like the main character--was dying slowly in a cement room underground at the hands of someone else after being forced to craft last words to the love of my life. He'd already found Marco's three warehouses. A little more digging would tell him that two of the warehouses don't have basements, so I must be at the third.

-

Time zoomed past again as I floated away into unconsciousness, brought out of it once again by a gentle slap to the face. This one felt softer but more urgent. Then came voices, all of them fuzzy except for one.

"Y/N, can you hear me, babe?"

Jacob Peralta. The only name I could think of as I fought through the searing pain of every cut, every punch, every moment of being strangled or burned. The only voice I could hear calling my name as I sat there pathetically and waited to be rescued like some princess caught in a tower.

"The ambulance is almost here, Y/N. Can you open your eyes? Come on, baby, please."

Jacob Peralta, the last person to see me before I became a hostage.

"Fuck, Rosa, her pulse is weakening. What do I do?!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Baby, stay with me, come on!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Sir, we need you to clear the area, so we can properly assess her injuries."

Jacob Peralta. The one who kept me alive.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Make It Through The Night (Part 1)

Summary: One year into the apocalypse, the reader winds up in a bad way when the mysterious Dean Winchester shows up. He ends up saving her but also revealing that he’s the one who caused the end of the world in the first place too...

Masterlist

Pairing: Apocalypse!Dean x reader

Square: Flannel

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, death, injury, angst

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo​​​

_____

“Shit,” you said, the bear trap clamped down tight on your jacket sleeve. You were lucky you’d seen it at the last second and it only caught the fabric. Wearing a heavy backpack did not help and you sighed, hoping you would find a sturdy branch close by to pry it open instead of breaking your knife on it.

“You ain’t a fox,” said a voice behind you. You looked over your shoulder, two men with rifles walking over. 

“Did it get you?” asked the other as they approached carefully, the one walking around.

“Just my sleeve,” you said as one of the men knelt down.

“You’re lucky. That would have messed up that arm of yours pretty good,” he said. You swallowed when you saw them glance at one another but the one put a key into the trap and unlocked it, your arm coming free. “You ought to be more careful.”

“Thanks,” you said, standing quickly and backing away. 

“You with anyone?” asked the other man, walking around the trap and towards you.

“I don’t think that’s your concern,” you said.

“Otis,” said the one in front of you. You saw the rope in his hands and took off, a shot ringing out. You heard another as your arm was grazed but you kept running.

“Don’t let her get loose,” said Otis. “She’ll bring enough food for the month.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, tripping over a log. You spun around on your bottom, hand reaching for the gun on your holster when a different shot rang out. You saw Otis and the other man freeze, staring at something behind you. You stayed still, hearing soft footfalls behind you.

“Ben. Otis. You two weren’t injuring and selling people off again, were you?” said the voice. They swallowed and looked at one another. “I told you what I’d do if I heard about you two coming into my territory.”

Ben moved fast, aiming his gun and pulling the trigger in the time the man you’d yet to see had shot twice. Both of them fell to the ground and you should have been happy about that but your shoulder felt wet and your head was dizzy. You were out cold before you could even tell if you’d gotten yourself in a worse situation.

“Ah,” you hissed when you woke. Your shirt was off, bra still on but the strap felt like it was down. Your arm was in a bandage, shoulder achy but that appeared to be wrapped up too. There was something damp on your forehead, a washcloth and you closed your eyes again.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up.”

You turned your head and saw a bearded handsome man with some of the fluffiest short hair you’d ever seen cleaning some guns at a desk.

“Where’s my shirt,” you groaned.

“Garbage,” he said, tossing a too big flannel at you. You sat up slowly and pulled it on, buttoning it before you leaned back against the headboard and sighed. You pushed the washcloth aside and took a few deep breaths, looking around to find yourself in a bedroom. “Your jacket is trashed.”

“Bullet holes and bear traps will do that to you,” you said, wincing as you moved.

“Don’t move. I didn’t just dig a bullet out of your shoulder for nothing,” he said.

“You knew those guys?” you asked.

“Same way you know how there are pests in your house. Like ants? Yeah, those two were ants. I got sick of the ants,” he said.

“You said they were in your territory.”

“I’ve warned them once before to stay away from here. I’ve heard rumors of what they do. I warned them to stay away and they didn’t. You don’t strike me as the kidnapping and sell people type so I don’t have that issue with you,” he said.

“No. I don’t do that,” you said.

“Dangerous to be on your own these days,” he said.

“The groups I’ve joined over the past year never seem to turn out too well,” you said.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?” he asked, picking up a gun he’d finished with.

“Why?”

“I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

“I’d like that too.”

“Sweetheart, if I were the bad guy, you would have woken up much worse. So. What is it?”

You looked away and closed your eyes.

“I got all day,” he said.

“Last group I was in...I killed six people. Poisoned dinner,” you said.

“Well that’s...extreme.”

“They killed weaker members of the group. I knew I was the bottom of the food chain. I took the precaution,” you said. “Plus they killed my dog so that pissed me off.”

“Sorry about your dog,” he said with a nod. “That how many you kill? Six?”

“Humans? More than that,” you said.

“Tell me about those ones too,” he said, cocking the gun.

“Why? You gonna shoot me if I don’t?” you asked.

“Answer the question.”

“My parents. My neighbor and his wife and their kid. Chick I met up with not too long after this place went to hell. Two brothers I ran with for a while. A single dad and his teenage daughter. You want me to keep going?” 

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because they stopped being them,” you said, glancing at the man. 

“The infection got them,” he said and you nodded. “You know...they ain’t people after that happens. The person that was in there is gone.”

“They were still people,” you said.

“That’s the answer I thought you’d give me,” he said, nodding his head as he stood up. He walked over and flipped the gun around to you, holding the grip out. “You’re free to stay.”

“What’s with twenty questions?” you asked as you took it, finding it was your gun.

“Most people, even if they aren’t infected, they’re dead on the inside. You...you still seem like you give a shit,” he said. “You kill monsters or in your head out of mercy for people you cared about, or you kill to survive. No malice, just survival. I can work with that.”

“You didn’t have to kill those two guys. They weren’t gonna bother you,” you said.

“Oh, I know. I never said I was like you,” he said, going for the doorway. “Bathroom is down the hall to the left. I’m around the corner on the right. You need to rest up before you walk around. Shout if you get hungry or need something.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Dean. Dean Winchester,” he said.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” you asked.

“Probably because I started the apocalypse,” he said with a dry laugh. “It was all over the news the first day before that went out.”

He let you stare a moment before he nodded.

“You?”

“Y/N. Y/L/N.”

“You should sleep more, Y/N while the pain medication is still working,” he said before he left the room.

“Good luck with that.”

Somehow you were able to catch a few more hours though. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in a bed which was probably why. When you woke, you explored the room a bit, trying to figure out where exactly you were.

The door was still open when you wandered out, going down to the bathroom Dean had mentioned. You cocked your head at the sink, wide eyed when you saw clean water come out.

“Are you just gonna stare at it?” asked Dean. Flinching, you saw him in the doorway, raising an eyebrow. “It’s fresh. You can drink it. The shower has hot water too.”

“How do you have running water?” you asked.

“Same way I got electricity, heat...don’t worry, it never runs out,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll save the bathing for when I trust you a little more,” you said.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, rolling his eyes and walking away. “Just don’t use my shampoo.”

“What…” you said as he left. You sighed and locked the door behind you. It’d been so long since you’d had a shower. 

You looked around, opening a door to discover a closet packed with a variety of bathroom goods. You sighed when you saw an exfoliator scrub, immediately grabbing it along with some soap. There was a spare set of sweatpants and a shirt in there too.

It was dangerous to trust someone or leave yourself vulnerable. But he also already had ample opportunity to already do what he wanted with you.

And it’d been so long since a hot shower…

You quickly undressed and grabbed some supplies to take into the shower. The water was surprisingly hot and a good pressure. You sighed as you stepped under and watched the layers of grime be stripped away.

It was difficult to avoid your shoulder but you only got it slightly wet and the pain wasn’t too bad. You were smiling as you brushed your teeth when you were finished, wrapped up in a towel, skin soft and clean for once.

The knock at the door startled you out of your happy little bubble though.

“I left some fresh bandages out here since you probably got that one all wet and won’t let me change it for you...which is stupid by the way,” he said. 

You went to the door and slowly opened it, Dean stopping from where he’d begin to walk away.

“Do you want me to change that?” he asked, not turning around.

“I want that knife in your back pocket and then you can change it,” you said.

“Not happening,” he said. “You’re not the only one who isn’t sure if they can trust someone yet.”

“Make it an even playing field and we’ll work on that,” you said.

“You have a gun behind that door. How fair is that?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Change it,” you said, opening the door wider, the gun hanging loosely in your right hand, the other on your towel. “Please.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“If I was telling, you would know,” you said. He nodded and you stepped back into the bathroom. He picked up the supplies and walked inside, making sure to take a wide arc around you so you were closest to the door.

“You smell better,” he said, tearing off the old bandage.

“Well thanks, dick,” you said.

“I bet you were working some dead end, low level job you hated when this all started,” he said.

“So basically everyone?” you said, his fingers spreading before he looked over your wound. “You said you started this. The end.”

“Mhm,” he said.

“How?” you asked, Dean cleaning off the injury. You hissed and stomped your foot, nearly crumpling over.

“Sorry,” he said as you got some air back. “Monsters.”

“You made the monsters?” you asked. He shook his head and started to wrap you up again, his calloused fingers gentle as they worked.

“No. I used to fight them. I used to fight all kinds of bad stuff. I was a hunter. But I screwed up. Made the wrong choice. Pissed off someone close to me and got them killed,” he said. “Started this whole mess.”

“I seriously doubt you started an apocalypse. You probably just hate yourself,” you said. He stopped working and stared at you. “Am I wrong?”

“No. Most people don’t pay attention to that sort of thing anymore,” he said, tucking the bandage in. 

“Thanks,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a clip, setting it on the counter. “Your gun has blanks. These are the real deal.”

“Of course,” you said, shaking your head as you looked at the gun.

“As long as you don’t use this on me,” he said, taking the gun out of your hand and swapping the clips. He handed it back to you and you sighed. “Deal?”

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to,” you said.

“I can agree to that,” he said. You nodded and he walked past you. “It’s getting late. I’m going to make some dinner.”

“Alright.”

He left and you shut the door behind him, changing into the new clothes. You tucked the gun in the waistband and headed out, wandering the halls for a few minutes before you came across Dean with his back to you, working over a stove.

“I hope you like eggs. I eat lots of eggs,” he said.

“You have chickens?” you asked.

“Mhm. They aren’t for meat. Just eggs,” he said.

“Eggs sound pretty good,” you said, looking around the space. “So is this like your doomsday bunker?”

“Nope. Just my everyday regular bunker,” he said, a tiny laugh in his words. You took a careful seat on the stool at the counter, Dean glancing over his shoulder. “Been awhile since I’ve had company.”

“Don’t make it creepy,” you said.

“Yeah, well you’re setting the table,” he said, nodding to some shelves with plates and silverware. You grabbed two and a pair of forks, setting them down on the counter with a wince. You took a deep breath at your shoulder and sat down. A minute later Dean dumped some eggs on the plate and then started to walk around the island. It smelled good and was warm when you took a bite. 

A smile found its way onto your face and you shut your eyes, relishing the taste.

Dean shifted around you and your eyes flew open, ready to stab him when you saw fabric go past your face.

“It’ll help,” he said, picking up your arm and resting it in a makeshift sling. “Been there before.”

“You should be more careful,” you said as he took a seat next to you. “Almost wound up with a fork in you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. He ate quietly and you quickly polished yours off, your stomach letting out a large growl. He stared at you, halfway through chewing. He picked up his plate and pushed most of his food onto your own. 

“I-“

“Eat. You need the protein. I got other stuff I can have,” he said. He made himself what looked like a spoonful of peanut butter on some crackers, wolfing it down as you ate the rest of the eggs. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday morning,” you said. “There’s some food in my pack.”

“I have plenty. Although I’m going to have to get something out of this if I’m going to be sharing half my supplies with you,” he said.

“Who said I was staying?” you asked, spinning around in your seat.

“You’re injured. Not to mention low on supplies and in this area, you don’t get supplies without dealing with the person that owns it. Me,” he said.

“Fine. Let’s make a deal so I can get what I need and move on,” you said.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“No? Well fine. I’ll leave anyways,” you said. You stood and headed for the doorway, Dean walking in front of it. “Move.”

“No. You used my medical supplies, my food, my shelter. You owe me. You can pay it back after you’ve healed,” he said.

“Or we have a problem,” you said, pulling out the gun from behind you. He stepped in front of you, getting close. 

“Go ahead,” he said. “Do it.”

“Freak,” you said, brushing past him, Dean ripping the gun out of your hand like it was nothing. “Hey!”

“I think we can both stop pretending. You don’t kill unless you have to and I’m not a threat to you. I need help around here and you need to recover from the road. That is the deal. Understand?” 

“Whatever. Asshole,” you said, storming off back towards your room.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 1 : Section 4 : Pharmacy Break-In

Trick, Dok, and Dapper were let out of the house with money and a modicum of freedom for once. Now well-supplied – except for one vital need – they returned home only to find that, during their day of happiness, Jackie and Marvin have been “reset” by Anti. Their memories gone and their attachment strengthened, the oldest twins struggle to come to terms with themselves, their brothers, and their master, but they’ll have to do it quick – another day, another crisis on the horizon, and Dok is in danger.

Trigger warnings: hypnotism, major abuse, torture, trauma reactions, breaking and entering, and mentions of psychosis.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

 Part Four of Chapter One: Pharmacy Break-In

musical-in-theory asked: Mar- *sigh* Blue? Can you hear us?

Blue peers over Red’s shoulder, blinking. His face has begun to go more yellow than white and he holds himself like he’s in pain, sheltered behind Red’s body. “I can hear you,” he says. “Who’s talking?”

“I think they just talk,” mumbles Red.

They give you twin looks of distrust.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, Dapper? You boys might want to hurry on home...

“We should have,” mumbles Doktor, backing slightly towards the door. “We should have, we should have.”

“Dok,” whispers Trick, gripping at his shoulder. “Let’s stay calm, man, let’s stay calm. No close-offs tonight.”

Doktor wrings his hands together, cursing the tears in his eyes. “Red?” he calls, shakily. “Do you know who I am?”

He already knows the answer.

Red stares at him skeptically. “Anti said Doktor,” he answers.

“But don’t you know - ” Doktor chokes on a sob, refusing to let Trick draw him towards the nest. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Red opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Sorry,” he manages finally.

Doktor screams, slamming his fist against the door. Trick begs him to be quiet, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t bother Anti, please don’t bother Anti, we’re okay, we’re okay…”

Anonymous asked: Is blue gonna be okay? Poor boy doesn't look like he's feeling too good

Blue’s swaying slightly in place, pressed against Red’s shoulder. “You know,” he mumbles, swallowing back nausea. “I think I want to sit down.”

Red turns to hold him.

“Your bed is over there,” mumbles Trick, avoiding their eyes. “You should probably… take it easy.”

He half expects Red to snap at him for suggesting anything at all to him, but Red seems to have lost his interest in him along with his memory. Trick doesn’t know why this puts a hard lump in his throat. It’s better if Red ignores him. It’s better if Red doesn’t remember him. Isn’t it?

That’s my brother, says some part of his mind, with grief. That was my brother.

And Trick, turning away, tells that part of his brain to shut the fuck up.

Anonymous asked: Hoodie? How're you feeling?

Red leads Blue around the island to their sleeping bags - there are two of them now, not that Red sees the difference - and they crash to the ground side by side, sitting with their hands close together on the floor, trying to process.

“I feel pretty sick,” he mumbles, staring down at his hands. “My head really, really hurts. And my wrists…”

You see that they are rubbed raw. He must have been chained up. “I don’t remember… anything,” he whispers. “Just Anti… and Blue. And - and - and nothing, just… fragments… dreams… I don’t know how this could have happened… I think we need to go to the hospital…”

He touches his head, groaning.

Anonymous asked: Red, your heads unwrapped. Did your injury reopen? Where does the dye end and the blood begin?

“Oh, fuck, his head’s open?” Trick stares over at the island. “Dok, you gotta go check on him.”

Doktor is biting back bitter tears, hidden against Trick’s shoulder, clinging to his jacket. “I don’t want to see him like this,” he sobs. “I don’t want him to have forgotten me.”

“Fuck, buddy, he just - he just - he won’t be so different, okay? Anti must have just - Anti must have had his reasons.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” sobs Deutsch. “What if he didn’t, what if he just did that to him? What if he just does that to us, someday? What if we all forget each other? What if we already have forgotten, forgotten important things, forgotten who we were?”

“Dok,” snarls Trick. He grabs his shoulders tightly, fear lacing his trembling voice. “Don’t you say shit like that. Don’t you dare say shit like that. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Doktor whimpers, tears cascading down his cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t want to be - I don’t want to be mindless - I don’t want to forget - ”

“Enough,” Trick demands, shaking him. He knows he’s being harsh and it doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is getting him to stop fucking talking. Because if he doesn’t, they’re going to get beat to shit. And Trick isn’t watching him go through that again. Not a chance in hell. He’s seen Doktor dying too many times in his life. He’s seen Doktor weak and suffering too many times. And he’s learned his lesson - you shut the fuck up, you shut your twin up, and you don’t get hurt.

No matter what else you have to sacrifice.

“Enough, no more. Stop crying. Now, Dok. Go, go over there and look at Red and Blue.”

“Trickshot - ”

“Don’t argue with me. What’s the rule? When one of us is upset, the other one…”

“Does what he’s told,” chokes Dok, trying to swallow back tears.

“Right. Right.” Trick wipes at his nose and sniffs, trying to stay calm himself. “Good man. Go on, then. Go patch them up before Anti gets mad. Now, Dok.”

Anonymous asked:

Blue... Are you bleeding? Two other anons had similar questions added.

They’re injured.

They’re bleeding.

Doktor sees it as soon as he rounds the corner, finding the two of them sitting on either side of the island, but no longer looking at each other like they did the day before - looking now with a strange sort of intensity, a confused tension hovering in the air between them. He sees, vividly, an early memory of him and Trick - sitting across from each other in a jail cell, trying not to stare at each other, wondering, Who the hell are you and why do I feel like I love you so much?

Anti never resets without leaving something behind. And sometimes, when your brain is blank and you’re exhausted, he leaves behind things that weren’t there before.

Doktor doesn’t remember much of the person he used to be.

But he knows that that person is different from who he is now.

He’s fairly sure that person was… kinder than who he is now.

Pain burns in his chest. He swallows it back like a pill. Take twice a day without food. Without water. Just take it. You don’t have any other choice. Swallow the pill or choke on it.

“You look like you need a doctor,” he manages, trying not to look as miserable as he feels.

Red turns to look at him, paranoia written all over his angry face. Always so angry. The memory of pain can be washed away, but it still leaves its scar behind, and Red has always met blood with fury. The reset is like pulling pushpins out of a bulletin boards. The markers are all gone now, but the marks remain.

“Are you one?” Red asks, a little sharply.

Doktor sighs. He’s about to reach the end of his rope. “Asshole, did you miss the part where Anti told you my goddamn name?”

“Fine, fuck!” snaps Red, unloosening a little. “Pretty sarcastic for someone who’s supposed to do what I say.”

“Tell me to shut the fuck up,” says Doktor coolly. “And I will.”

Red lapses into silence.

Doktor begins by examining him, running his hands carefully through his hair while Red squirms uncomfortably. “Why was it dyed today?” he asks.

Dok tries to be sensitive of just how agonizingly lost he must feel. “I don’t know,” he says softly.

“It just doesn’t make sense. I hit my head and decide to dye my hair?”

He doesn’t like it when Anti lies, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He wraps Red’s head back up carefully, washing clean the little stripe of dye above his fracture, which must be stinging awfully. He hopes he isn’t punished for washing it out.

Blue scoots steadily closer to them the whole time he is working.

“Anywhere else you have pain?” asks Dok softly, drawing away from Red.

“My head hurts,” he admits. The admission itself may as well be a cry of agony from Red.

“I’ll give you both something for that,” says Dok.

He’s just going to knock them the fuck out with some sleeping stuff. They don’t deserve to live through a night of exhausted confusion.

“How you are feeling, Blue?” he asks, turning to the other twin.

Not well.

Blue has gone very, very pale, the area around his eyes mostly yellow. He breathes a little too fast, reacts a little too slowly. His cuts are open. His cuts are weeping, weeping, weeping.

“Can I please have something for the pain?” he whispers, sinking down against the cupboards.

Red reaches out to grab him as he collapses, startled by the ferocity of protectiveness that rises inside him like magma. He barely remembers who this person is, but he must have fucking adored him. Oh, the poor cuts covering his aching body, the poor blood and bruises…

He gives up on trying to look tough and buries his face against Blue’s chest, sobbing.

Doktor cleans them up in silence. Restitches cuts from being tortured. Splints the aching bones from being thrown down the stairs. Washes everything clean.

They don’t even remember how they were injured.

But Doktor does.

Doktor remembers.

Doktor is angry.

He watches them swallow their pills.

He decides to take one himself, too, and returns to his nest, to his little corner of his safety, to his little brother, the only thing that ever seems to stay the same.

“Are you okay?” asks Trick, without words.

And Doktor, turning away, does not answer.

spicydanhowell asked: dok he's not gonna do it again. all five of you are here now, no more changes, he just wanted red to have a clean slate with his twin so theyd be close like you and trick. i promise he'll remember you, please go take care of him

“Thanks,” mumbles Doktor, flat-voiced, staring straight ahead out the window. Trick’s hand rubs the low of his back, a warm, reassuring weight on his spine. “I hope you’re right.”

Anonymous asked: blue... are you okay? is red ok?

Blue and Red lie beside each other in the darkness.

“Are you?” murmurs Red. “Okay?”

“Are we?” asks Blue, his voice faint.

Red stares at him like he can’t take his eyes away.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t remember who he is or who this person is - all he knows is that he loves him, and he loves Anti, and they’re together.

So that… that will have to be enough right now. He’s too tired for anything else.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers.

Blue stares back at him. His eyes are oceans.

“Then I’m okay,” he says.

And tonight, when he reaches out, just gentle, and grips Red’s hand -

Red squeezes his hand back, and smiles very softly at him.

At his twin. At his brother. At his friend. At his Blue.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.

Blue is already there.

Anonymous asked: Anti, I don’t think erasing Red’s memory was such a smart plan. Why take that kind of risk?

“What risk?” yawns Anti, pulling Dapper’s coat off him and pushing him towards the bed. “Here’s the wonderful thing about my brand of hypnotism, darling - it sticks. I’m very careful with my power. Very careful with my resets. Wash this away, leave this behind, take that out, put this in… The surface is gone, but the substance remains. He’s still my Red.”

He pauses beside the bed, staring out the window for a second.

“And I’ll have to be careful,” he murmurs, anger making his mouth curl. “That there is nothing left of your Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: You’re actually wrong. No matter how many ‘resets’ you do, their love for one another still seems to hold strong.

“Only when I want it to,” answers Anti. He is shaking slightly and he hides his trembling hands from you. “Or haven’t you noticed that there is no love at all left between anyone but my twins? Trickshot and Red hate Dapper, Dapper wants no one but me, Red slaps Doktor and Trick around more than I do, Blue will learn to do the same soon enough - no, all’s well. All’s well. I’m in control. I’m the one in control now. I’m the one who makes the characters. They’re mine, they’re mine.”

He hisses and turns away from you, his face glitching.

Anonymous asked: That’s it Anti I think I have enough spite in me to astral project through the screen and at least get one good hit on you. I’m not strong but MAN AM I MAD

Anti laughs, shaking slightly as he crawls into bed beside Dapper. “That’s how I know it was a good day’s work!

“Not strong but mad,” he giggles. “You’re like this kid here, huh?”

He pinches Dapper’s cheek hard. Dapper flinches but doesn’t respond, staring dully up at the ceiling. Anti kisses his cheek. Anti kisses his throat. Anti bites his ear. Dapper whimpers and covers his face with his hands. Anti bursts into laughter, drawing him to his chest. “Give me a kiss!” he laughs. “Give me a kiss, come on.”

Dapper turns on his side and kisses his brother’s cheek without emotion on his face. It stings his mouth.

“Good boy,” purrs Anti, wrapping his arms around him. His face is sallow with exhaustion, he leans his head down heavily on Dapper’s shoulder. Safe on Dapper’s shoulder. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.

“You are okay?” asks Dapper, with a slight flicker of concern. “Anti?”

But Anti is already unconscious.

Most of Dapper’s discomfort washes away. He whimpers and snuggles closer to his brother, hugging him in return, rubbing his back, even if it does hurt to touch him. He presses the reassuring weight of his clock against Anti’s chest, readjusting his brother on the pillows, and curls against his body, letting out a deep sigh.

It was a good day. But it’s time to put it behind him and go back to the way he always lives. There’s no point in anything but duty, after all. There’s no point in the past or the future. All he knows is that he is on the night watch now, and nothing - nothing, nothing - will harm his brother as he sleeps.

cest-mellow asked: hey dapper? are you feeling alright up there?

Dapper stares at you, wrapped up in Anti’s arms. He looks exhausted, but he’s a patient kid.

“Doing okay,” he signs slowly, refusing to disturb his brother. “Should stop expecting anything. Should have known he only let me go so he could reset M… Blue.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, do you know exactly what Anti may have done to Red and Blue? What they went through, I mean?

“Happens often,” says Dapper, his eyes darkening wearily. “Reset. Some things go, some things stay. First day is worst.”

He stares down at Anti for a moment, ensuring that he is asleep, and then up at you.

“Don’t tell Anti,” whispers his hands. “But sometimes, in the days that follow the reset… some things can be recovered, before they are lost forever.”

cest-mellow asked: do you know how we would recover them? just.. hypothetically?

Dapper stares at the floor.

“No,” he says. “Someone tried, once… but it wasn’t enough to save me.”

Anonymous asked: that’s good news!! but how can we get those memories back without anti knowing?

“I think it’s more about the substance of a man,” says Dapper vaguely. He’s untangling himself from Anti a little, setting his brother gently back against the pillows, stroking his fingers through his short green hair. “I wouldn’t know. I can never even find myself, these days. As far as ‘day’ has any meaning. As far as anything has any meaning.”

Anonymous asked: Regardless of memory or time or blood or how it all comes together or crashes down around you... It all has meaning, Jameson. YOU have meaning. I promise you that.

Carver starts and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. He tries to find a response, but his hands are empty and his chest is full.

Until anger comes crashing down on him.

“You’re wrong,” he signs bitterly, drawing his knees to his chest. “I give meaning to other people, but me? No. No. Just… a clock, wound up and changed to fit the time someone else asks for.

“Crashes down around me, crashes down around me… the world crashed down on me a long time ago, or maybe it was only yesterday, and I am the last working piece of the rubble.”

He scratches dully at his wounded head, rocking himself gently, gently.

“And barely working, at that.”

Anonymous asked: Maybe this is convoluted and unfair to ask of you considering that you're the one that CAN answer but... between resetting someone's mind and resetting a time frame, which strikes you as worse?

Dapper pales in the evening light, his hands stammering slightly as he tries to find the right words to answer you. “Well - well - no harm to a time reset,” he cries, distraught. “Is there? I didn’t do anything bad, did I? No harm, no harm - I can know what comes but - I wouldn’t take your autonomy. It’s just - a day! Just an hour! Just…”

He sits back against the headboard, chewing on the nail of his thumb, distressed.

“Then again, there are nice parts to resetting your head… to make the pain fade away into the background…”

He breathes out deep.

“To free the person you were from the sin of the man you’ve become… To be Carver, not… J… to forget what used to make you happy, so you can stop hoping for it, and live misery more peacefully…”

Dapper stares out the window. The northern lights are breathing through the sky, and he quiets, watching them, forgetting what he was talking about.

“And then Anti loves you better,” he adds softly, his hand on his brother’s head. “So… what else matters?”

florenceisfalling asked: is anti still asleep? dapper, do you think you could help... salvage?

Dapper grins a little strangely and points at the rope still lying on the floor, a snake sleeping but not dead. He is unlikely to venture downstairs without permission. He winces slightly and closes his eyes, rubbing at his throat.

cest-mellow asked: is it real love though, jamie? why would someone hurt you if they love you, even if you did something bad, or if you simply didn’t do a thing. why would somebody who loves you hurt you the way anti does? i’m not trying to make you upset. maybe this is something someone else needs to hear, downstairs. but i think you need to hear it too.

“What would you have me do?” asks Dapper distantly. “Even if I left Anti, could I flee my own violence? There’s nothing left for me without him.”

A sudden energy rises in him, powerful enough that you hear him choke, once, twice, as he rides it through, and then he sits up, and his eyes are not silver but blue, blue, blue.

“Do you see that who I was is destroyed and who I am is Anti’s, and if I am not Anti’s then I am no one’s and nothing, and would swiftly kill myself in his absence, as he has always told me I should do if he were to die? Do you understand that I cannot without justification bear the weight of the things I have done? Is it real love? Broken things can love truly! But not well, not well, badly, even - yet a second broken thing expects nothing better than a shattered handful of affection to keep him alive every other night. Where would you have me go? What would you have me do? I can’t pull myself out of these chains. I can’t remember except on the nights when I can and I can’t bring the people I’ve forgotten to remember along with me. Do you understand that only my family could save me, and my family is fucking dead and gone?”

He slumps down beside Anti, covering his face with his hands.

“No, you don’t understand… neither do I… I don’t understand anything anymore… please, tonight is not a confused night, though I wish it were not, as these are the most painful nights to survive, because I am more aware than ever of just how much goddamn pain I’m in - and just how truly I can never, ever be free of it. Just how truly I can never, ever, be Jameson Jackson again.”

There is a long pause. He breathes harshly in the darkness, hiding beside his brother’s body.

Until, finally:

“Anti is someone I could run from,” he admits, very softly.

“But Carver?”

He breathes. The sky breathes. Time breathes in and through and with him. And none of it, none of it, none of it - none of it means anything to him anymore.

“Carver I will never be free of.”

He wishes Anti had reset his memory again. Perhaps the fifth time would work better than the first four.

“Carver I will never, ever, ever be free of.”

Anonymous asked: You have meaning. You're more than a clock. You CREATE, J. You make ART. Those are your thoughts and feelings brought to life. And even if your artwork never makes it it of that room, it's still there and it's yours. You don't need to make them and yet you do. That's a choice and you make it for yourself and that means everything.

Dapper bites down hard at his lip, teary-eyed, a protest rising and dying on his hands, and then something different registers with him, and he blinks, and sits up straight, his eyes widening -

“I,” he stammers, his face losing all color.

He clutches at his heart, trying to breathe, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I forgot to grab my art things… I forgot to grab my chalk and paper.”

cest-mellow asked: can i ask you.. was carver someone in you before anti made you dapper? or did he only become someone after all this?

Dapper gives a soft, breathy moan, clutching at his heart. “Don’t remember… just remember… knife, blood, crying, asleep. Stolen, killed. Red.”

Anonymous asked: I imagine you don't mean red the color. Y'know. All things considered.

Dapper stares at the floor. “The color was the only thing it meant, back then… we never - ”

A hand jolts up to grab him by the throat.

Carver slams his skull back against the headboard, giving a desperate gasping scream. His hands fly up to scrabble at the fingers around his neck, but Anti is holding him tight, glaring up at him, bored and irritated, from the mattress of their bed.

“Anti,” Carver begs, writhing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up - didn’t mean to be loud, move too much - didn’t - please, please, please - ”

Picking at the nails of his free hand, Anti gives no answer but a low, impatient sigh, waiting til Carver’s spasms are reduced to desperate gasping, and then to a slight tremble, and then, at last, an unconscious body in his hand, sinking down into the mattress, its owner’s mouth slightly blue…

Anti drops Carver onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. With all the air of an artist re-arranging a sketch figure, he pushes Carver into a position that’s comfortable for him and lies back down on the boy’s warm chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and falling back into a deep, cozy, and undisturbed sleep.

nikkilbook asked: Red’s wrists are raw? But... didn’t he have a dog bite wound there? And... what do Blue’s wrists look like?

Red stares sleepily up at you, morning light casting gold over his red and brown hair. He reaches up stiffly to stare at his wrist, licking his dry mouth.

“Dog bite, is that what that is?” he mumbles, looking at the bandages. He turns to Blue and picks up his hands as he sleeps, examining the splint on his brother’s wrist. “His is broken… and both of us have these… chain burns…”

He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t remember how we got them…”

Anonymous asked: Why do you feel the need to constantly remind yourself that they’re all ‘yours?’ Dont you understand that the hatred they feel is only making them more miserable? Your so called ‘characters’ are feeling nothing but pain, and misery. Characters are meant to grow and learn and be satisfied in the end. Any good ‘creator/writer’ should know that, but I guess you really aren’t one after all

Anti filters dully through messages, dozing against Dapper’s arm, but at this he jerks up, venomous, glaring at the camera.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarls, dragging Dapper closer to him. “You think I care about any of them? You think I care about anyone? I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything! Shut the hell up! Maybe they could find some satisfaction if they would goddamn do what they’re told! Useless little things, useless, useless, useless…”

He snarls and shakes, sinking suddenly back down towards the bed, a low gasp falling from his mouth. His skin is translucent and his hand grips Dapper’s shirt tightly.

Dapper whines in his sleep and turns over, cuddling up closer to Anti’s chest. Anti softens, humming, playing with his hair. “Mostly, anyway…”

cest-mellow asked: anti, do you actually love your brothers? part of me feels like you do but the other part... i don’t know.

Anti looks up, eyes narrowed.

Eventually he turns back to Dapper.

“What does it matter?” he says finally, without emotion.

“No one knows what I am,” he adds a moment later. “No one… no one knows what I am. Do natureless things have a telos? Can an endless thing have a need for love? Is there love without a telos?”

He sighs and puts his head back down on his pillow, looking sick and human.

“I need to stop downloading philosophy right before bed.”

Anonymous asked: Functionality, uselessness, so many different standards... that is one frankly unhealthy fixation of yours, and it makes me wonder if you’re projecting just a little of your own fear onto them. Because being useless is being weak, right? And you can’t have that from yourself. Anybody else but you.

Anti jumps out of bed, heading for the camera, but before he gets there you see him stagger back, falling against the mattress again. “Everyone is weak compared to me!” he shrieks.

Dapper groans, panting through a nightmare on the bed, his hands covering his ears.

“Everyone is weak and stupid and fleshy and pointless! Shut the fuck up! A fixation, what am I supposed to do, don’t you know I was born full of hatred, it’s his fault, it’s his fault! And he was weak and he was useless and he’s gone now, he’s gone!”

He drags himself back to his feet and throws the camera across the room, hard. Your screen cracks down the middle, giving you a shaky, glitching image as it tumbles to the ground to lay on its back.

“Projecting… I’ll show them motherfucking fear… I don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

skyewardlight asked: Ooooo looks like we hit a soft spot huh? :3c

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

immabethehero asked: Anti, how are you not questioning the talking cameras?

“They’re not fucking talking, they’re just goddamn messages. And they do whatever I want them to, they’re my cameras. Everything with electricity for lifeblood is me, is mine. Talking cameras…”

Anonymous asked: fuck... anti... i respect you. pleeease don't hurt the boys because one of us said something cruel to you. we know you're very powerful. we don't doubt you. i'm sorry.

Anti’s rage simmers a little lower and he shrugs, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, a little thickly, rubbing at his face. “Nothing you can do to me. As if it matters… doesn’t matter…”

He sighs, stretching out his arms and tired, aching neck, looking calmer.

Anonymous asked: You know what would give everyone in this house some life blood? A space heater, Anti. Everyone's cold.

“Space heater,” he repeats. “No, we won’t be in this part of the world long enough to need that. Besides, have they really done anything to earn a space heater?”

spicydanhowell asked: yknow what i think though... and let me phrase this delicately because carver was so well behaved all day but... he and dok and even trick... they all still love each other, or at least care for each other

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” hisses Anti. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be. Only on my orders. Stupid little brats. What reason would they have to still care about each other? I reset them and pitted them against each other like dogs in a ring. No, no, don’t be silly, pet.”

He staggers back to his bed, waving a hand, trying to get the camera to turn off.

“That’s enough out of you,” he growls, sinking back onto his blankets, his arms trembling as they lower his weight down again. “I brought you here for one reason and this is not it. I’m the one in control… I’m the one in control…”

The camera blinks off.

cest-mellow asked: hey red, you feeling any better? do you remember anything? even little things like smells, sounds, the way something felt or looked like. anything at all?

Red sits back, smiling slightly at the question as something warm flickers through his mind, a memory so distant it can barely be seen.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

He looks around. Golden light drifts over his body. He soaks in it, staring out at the forest.

“I think there was… a house,” he says softly. “And it was… warm.”

He looks down at his hands, considering.

“But this isn’t that house.”

nikkilbook asked: How’s my boy doing? He’s gotta be overwhelmed. On like. Every metric.

Red stares at you, his mouth beginning to tremble.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, and breaks into sobs, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t handle - ”

His twin stirs beside him, rubbing at his eyes. A brief moment of utmost confusion covers his face, but after a moment, it changes to only “mostly confused” and he reaches out to touch Red’s sleeve, avoiding skin, mumbling his name.

“What’s going on?” he asks, soft.

“Don’t remember anything,” chokes Red, rocking himself gently back and forth. “Don’t feel good, hurt, hurt.”

His brother sits up, murmuring reassurances. He’s there to put a warm, steady pressure on his arm. No matter what happens, at least he gets to be there beside his friend, and make sure he’s okay, or, if not okay, still with him, at least.

Still with him, no matter who he is.

Anonymous asked: anti how exactly did it go reseting marvin? i guess red probably took it okay, but, like, what did you actually do to them to make them forget? how did you manage to get marvin to cooperate?

It’s evening and Anti’s only now bothering to rise from bed. His face is still starkly white, though he occasionally glitches back to green, rubbing wearily, angrily, at his face. Dapper’s not currently in the room, but shuffling nearby assures Anti that his pet has not gone too far. In fact, you can hear a sort of clapping coming from the hall.

“It went well enough,” murmurs Anti, satisfaction ghosting over his face. “Yes, you have to be rough to get them to cooperate. I came to grab him while he was sleeping, but then even Red got so upset - went into one of his little fucking freak-outs and wouldn’t come down into the basement with me. So I had to tie him up too. And then it’s just - power like an ocean, and the sound of them crying as they feel themselves drift away.

Like sand from the beach.”

He pauses, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

“I love when they’re so dopey and confused,” he hums. “Love, love, love them looking up at me like that, waiting for me to tell me who they are… just like Jack must have felt, don’t you think? Just empty slates, waiting to be formed. I love that… but I almost hope there’s a little of the cat left… I want to see him…”

Anti pauses and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I want to see him humiliated by what I’ve turned him into.”

Anonymous asked: (Answer whenever)Why can’t you see that weakness doesn’t make you useless and uselessness doesn’t make you weak. You’re blinded by your constant crave for control, and anger that you don’t see that you yourself are being puppeted around by your own emotions. You can’t make a family forget their love for one another no matter how hard you try, and it pains you. Denial will not get you anywhere. It may be his fault that you’re like this but that doesn’t mean you should enable it for the worse.

Anti is up on his feet, searching through the drawers of the bedside table. Your words draw a low, dangerous hiss out of him, and he turns to you with mismatched eyes, lips drawn back.

“You’re a fool if you think I’m not in control of everything here,” he growls, turning back to the drawer. “I know everything they do, everything they think, everything - goddammit!”

He holds up a little orange prescription bottle. Four tiny white pills rattle around the bottom.

“Okay, you know what,” he says, as horns curl out of the back of his head and the scraping of dog’s claws echo through the air around you, accompanied by the soft snarling of something that you have never heard before. “Maybe there is one thing I can’t control.”

He sets the pill bottle in his hoodie pockets, his face cold as he turns to the light.

“Chase Brody’s unbelievable stupidity.”

He looks back towards his door.

“Red!” he calls. “Go tell Doktor and Trick to wait for me in the basement!”

Anonymous asked: The question is, why exactly did Anti allow us to observe and communicate in the first place? We may taunt him and try to get through to the egos but we're not really a threat while he maintains control.

“You want to know why I allow you to use my cameras? To watch, to see, to speak?”

Anti picks the camera up and holds it in his hands as he stalks out into the hall and back towards his room. Downstairs, you can hear frantic argument. Dapper scoots back against the wall of the hallway as you pass him, clutching something to his chest.

“It’s because I think it’s funny.”

He opens his closet door and pulls out a small wooden box, opening it to reveal a set of gorgeous silver knives, tipped with a different color each. Gently, he pulls out the orange-tipped one, gripping it warmly in his hands, holding it up to the twilight.

“I think it’s funny that you’re still here even after he is gone. I think it’s funny that you sit here and watch as I fucking torture them. I think it’s funny that you lost and you’re still here trying to win, I think it’s funny that my boys find any comfort at all in the things you say, and I think it’s the most ridiculously hilarious thing I’ve ever fucking heard that you still think you can save them.”

The cool blade of the knife glimmers and the light dances at his behest.

“You can watch all you want. Because I hated Jack, yes.” He turns to you.

His teeth are gritted. His eyes are black. The strength of the anger radiating off of him is powerful enough that you can feel it like a physical force, taste it in your mouth, sense it on the ends of your fingers, like when you hear the rattling of a snake but cannot see it yet.

Not yet.

“But some days,” he whispers, teeth bared. “I hated you more.”

There are birds crying in the trees. There are birds fleeing from the trees. The sky is rapid darkening.

“This is my victory. Drown in it.”

And he turns to head downstairs.

skyewardlight asked: Looks like someone's overcompensating about his control. You constantly mentioning that you're in control doesn't convince us Anti. You sound like a child constantly stating they're an adult and throwing a tantrum when someone else says that they aren't. Heh.

“I’m about to show you control,” he says.

The sound of his boots coming down the stairs silences the whole house. Red and Blue cower as he passes, hiding behind their island, not yet sure what’s going to happen, though memories both dull and sharp are rising harshly in their heads, memories of blood and agony.

“Overcompensating… he belongs to me. He’d be nothing without me. And he’s still foolish enough to fail to look after my little one, well.”

He flips the knife around and around in his hand.

“He won’t forget my puppy’s medicine again.”

Anonymous asked: Will hurting him make you feel better? Will hurting him make him love you more? It won’t. He is human, he forgets. You should not punish him for being the way they he is. Brothers are supposed to love one another. Not make the other feel miserable, and helpless. Why can’t you understand that it’s okay not to be in control?

Anti pauses on the stairs towards the basement, panting harshly.

“He shouldn’t forget,” he snarls, scraping his knife against the wall. “He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he should know better, I taught him better! He’s not human, he’s less than that, he’s just - ”

Anti screams and gnashes his teeth, throwing his head. “He’s just a piece of him! And I’ll fucking show him what happens when he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to! He belongs to me, to me, to me! No one else, no one else, no one else!”

Anonymous asked: anti, please, you didn't even tell him to get it. carver didn't even mention it. trick didn't do anything wrong

“Red said it, that Dapper was near to out. He should listen better to his big brother. He never does. Always the littler dog snapping back when he should just roll over. Doktor and I are the only ones he listens to, and sometimes not even then. Besides, he should know what the little one needs. What, he expects Dapper to remember? No. Trick has to change.”

Anonymous asked: Aaaaghhh there was a pharmacy! It was right in front of them and we didn't realize, nooooo! I thought they got everything at the store why!! I feel so deceived!

It was a very small detail!! Red only mentioned it off-handedly and the pharmacy was thrown in among a lot of other details. I think you guys still did a good job checking. Anti’s standards, as you can see, are near impossible to meet.

cest-mellow asked: anti, anti, take a second. everything is okay, red or you can just go out and grab the medicine, right? trick forgot, but he didn’t mean to! he got everything else you asked him to get, didnt he? and i can guarantee he feels absolutely awful about forgetting once he realizes, not because of you but because of dapper! you’re such a good brother, you know that? don’t you think you should be a little more gentle to them so they can be better to you as well?

At the top of the stairs, Anti hears Trick and Dok stop in their panicked discussion with each other, still panting through the darkness. He grits his teeth, growling softly, and a sob echoes off the walls.

Anti rolls his eyes, thinking.

“They would be relieved if I didn’t punish them,” he admits. “But he should… know better, he should… I can take it a little easy on Doktor, maybe. But he should learn, don’t you understand I have standards? No, no, no, there’s no excuses for his bad behavior. What would you have me do if not torment his Doktor? That’s always the best way to teach him.”

Anonymous asked: This is not right. You shouldn’t be doing this to your little brother. He loves you, and would do anything for you. You already make him do so much, and now you’re going to hurt him for accidentally forgetting. What kind of brother tortures the other? They may love you but they do not believe that you love them, and I’m starting to think that, they are right.

Anti bristles with a nasty sneer, stalking down the stairs again. “Oh, you don’t think they love me?”

The boys jolt as he appears before them, backing closer to each other. Doktor tries to keep Trick behind him, Trick does the same with Doktor, and they end up pressed side to side, almost gripping each other’s hands.

“Trick,” he says, snatching him by the throat. Trick screams, lifted into the air - Doktor, at his side and to his credit, does not flinch away. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, yes!” screams Trick, gagging, clutching at his brother’s hands. “Yes, so much, please!”

Anti drops him on the ground.

“Please,” wails Trick. “What did we do?”

“Where’s Dapper’s refill?”

“R-refill?”

“For his medicine, Trick! The shit that keeps him from tearing his fucking face off because he sees dogs eating him alive!”

Trick can’t breathe. His mouth hangs open as he stammers too much to speak.

“We’ll go back and get it,” whispers Doktor, stepping slightly over his brother’s body. “We promise. No harm done, master.”

“‘We,’ no, no, your stupid twin is on his own. If he wanted your help, he should have remembered.”

“D-didn’t - mean to - Anti,” gasps Trick. “D-didn’t - ”

“No, you shut up! Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re lucky your little audience is less bloodthirsty than usual. For once, no one seems to want to see your brother tortured.”

Trick sobs dryly, reaching out to grab Doktor’s pant leg. Anti reaches down to grab him by the hair and yank him to his knees.

“Dapper has two days worth of refills left.” He holds up the little orange bottle and rattles the pills. “So you have two hours, Trickshot. Come back with his medicine. If you make it in time, I won’t touch your twin. If not, we’ll be having fun without you.”

Anti drops Trick again and turns to you, shoving the camera back onto the table by the door. “And if you want to see him safe so badly, then why don’t you save him? Take your camera, Trick.”

For a second, a smile plays across Anti’s mouth like the wriggling of an entrail.

“Your little friends are going to help you on your way.”

Anonymous asked: Money! He needs money!

Trick glances up at Anti for a second, panting.

“I gave you your money,” says Anti coolly, pulling Doktor away from his twin, who gives him one last desperate glance and manages to sign “H-A-L-D - ” before he is yanked to Anti’s chest. Trick hesitates again, trying to think, and a second later the back of Anti’s hand collides with his face, striking him hard enough to make his head spin. Choking, Trick dashes up the stairs, trying to hold back tears, always, always, always trying to hold back tears.

“Trick? What’s going on?” asks Blue, his voice haggard. In a blind panic, Trick considers just dashing away from him. It takes more than half an hour just to run to town, let alone to get the medicine and return, and he already feels so weak and shaky with terror that he can barely stand.

Anonymous asked: Im trying to see the good in your Anti, but sometimes its hard to admit that you’re not a straight up dickwad. He admitted he loved you out of fear and nothing more. They only love you so they can survive another day. Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull? You need help and actual love, and so do they. I know you want that. You’re just afraid that they’ll leave you alone, or that you’ve broken them past the point of no return

Anti screams, a horrible sound, enraged and exhausted, low on power and lower still on patience. “Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up, shut up!”

He turns his head towards you with a horrible burst of light from his eyes and the camera shorts out entirely with a painful screech, leaving you with no eyes in the basement and a last memory of the sight of Doktor’s face, blank and yet terrified as he sinks, helpless, to the ground.

Anonymous asked: H-A-L-D. Does that mean anything to you, Trick? Can you make anything out?

“I - I don’t know, no, I don’t know anything! I don’t know where the pharmacy is, I don’t know what his prescription is or what fake name he goes by, how much it costs, I don’t have any money, but it doesn’t matter because it’s night and I think the pharmacy is closed and I - ”

He has to heave in a desperate breath, gripping frantically at his hair, tearing, tearing, tearing -

“Trick,” cries Blue, getting painfully to his feet and coming to his brother’s aid. He tries to grab Trick’s hand, but he draws away, frantic, eyes wide.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Blue demands.

“No, no, no, no, Anti said alone - ”

Blue grabs his hands again, successfully this time. Trick stops, gasping, and turns to meet his brother’s eyes, bluer than denim dye. “Trick,” says Blue, softly.

And there is a moment where the name that Trick was told to forget rises to his brain like a sedative, warm and reassuring and tired, and the man looking at him is not just Anti’s, but his own, is someone he remembers, very distantly, very softly, very warmly…

“Marvin,” whimpers Trick. “I don’t know what to do.”

Blue blinks, drawing slightly away.

“I forgot to get Dapper’s medicine and now Anti is angry and he’ll hurt Doktor if I don’t bring it back in two hours but I don’t have anything I need and I don’t know - I don’t know - I don’t - ”

“Amata,” whispers Marvin, touching his cheek. “Breathe. Breathe. What do you need?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re hurt, you’d slow me down. And I can’t ask you for much,” whimpers Trick. “Anti could get mad if he realizes you helped me.”

Marvin’s eyes flash. Red is watching from behind the island, shaking.

“Is there anything I can do?” asks Marvin.

Trick stammers, shaking his head uncertainly, turning to you with eyes wide. “I don’t know, is there?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, has Anti ever accidentally killed anyone downstairs and had you go back to fix it? I was going to ask him this directly but I realized if this has happened, he wouldn't know...

Dapper is sitting in his room, happily drawing with his chalks, which have apparently been returned to him. “Look what someone left on the stairs!” he crows cheerfully, holding up his sketchbook and chalks. “Trick or Doktor, I guess. They must have sneaked up the stairs and everything, just for me, just for me!” His cheeks are flushed with delight. For a second, he just sits drawing, processing your message slowly, slowly, until his chalk has come to a standstill in his hands.

He pauses, staring at his paper, his mouth falling sorrowful again.

“I’ve undone a lot of bad things,” he says. “They blur together. You don’t know how many times I watched Doktor rise up out of that body bag… In the end, I couldn’t even prevent the bullet from striking him, but he did not die. And some days, Trick or Red have not returned home, and I have redone the day again and again. But Anti, killing someone downstairs? Not one of my brothers, maybe enemies.”

He curves the beak of a crow, thinking, his mouth taut.

“Once,” he says, slowly. “Anti told me that he had broken someone, and so I had to undo it… he was very gentle with Trick for some days after… he let him sleep and sleep and sleep…”

Dapper sighs and readjusts, pulling his sketchbook close. “But I’m just glad those things didn’t end up happening!”

Anonymous asked: This is all dappers fault.

The smile dies on Dapper’s lips. “What’s my fault?” he asks shakily, dropping his chalk to the ground. “What did I…”

Paranoid, he rubs at his throat, glancing around, frantic. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked something up and then forgotten about it, only to be punished minutes later. Tears pool in his silvery eyes.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Trick, Dok!! Please be brave for each other. Remember today and how happy you felt!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” chokes Trick, biting on his lip til it breathes. “I have to be - I have to be brave for Doktor. I have to be brave. I have to be brave.”

He tries to take deep breaths, working hard to calm down. He can do this. He can do this.

Anonymous asked: dapper, im sure you won't be able to but - do you think you could fix today? is that even possible?

“Fix today? I could go back before it. But only if Anti told me to. Otherwise I wouldn’t know the password and then he would be angry when he saw my silver eyes. Why, something’s wrong?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you've done nothing wrong. You're medication was forgotten and Anti is pissed but that's just him being... himself, I guess. It's nothing that can't be fixed though okay? What are you drawing?

“Oh.”

Dapper stares down at his paper. After a moment, he sets it unhappily down to the side and gets to his feet, rising to stare out the window. His face is quiet and tired. There are blue bruises all around his throat.

“I hope it can be fixed. He gets so angry…”

He rubs his face, stressed.

“I was just drawing Poe,” he sighs. “But I don’t think she’s coming back anyway. Will Anti hurt the other boys, for forgetting? I should have… I should have remembered.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dappper, it might be in Trick's best interest for you to redo the day. He and Doktor are in serious trouble!

Dapper chews on his nail. “I’d like to help, but it’s not a quick decision, you understand. First of all, there’s no point to a redo unless there’s something I can do to change it. Otherwise we’re just looping. I’m the only one who will remember the change, but Anti will see that I am tired and silver and then he will ask me for the password or a good explanation, and I won’t have it. Then I’ll be in a great deal of trouble, and things still may not be fixed. I need to be able to interfere. Usually, that means I tell Anti something went wrong and he changes his approach or comes to the aid of the brother in trouble.”

Anonymous asked: I don't know what Marvin can help you with, but Red has picked up Dapper's medication before! He should know the medication and the other details. (PS, pharmacy is near the store you had been shopping at for the other supplies)

Marvin whirls on his twin. “Red, tell him what you know.”

Red stares between the two of them, making calculations in his head. Doktor will be hurt if Trick doesn’t come back fast enough. That’s guaranteed. Red himself may be hurt if he helps Trick, but the likelihood is lower, and it could save Doktor. If that were all there was to it, he would take the burden of responsibility without hesitation. Anti said he was the leader, so it’s his job to protect the others. However, things have changed from – oh, he doesn’t even remember, he just knows things have changed. He has a twin now. Like Doktor punished for Trick’s mistake, Blue could be the one punished for Red’s decision.

“You understand,” says Red. “That if I tell him, you could be hurt.”

“Yes,” snaps Marvin, without hesitation. “Stop being a little bitch and tell him.”

Red laughs aloud. If he could remember, he would know it has been a very long time since he laughed like that. He’s starting to see why Anti picked this one for him.

“Fuck,” he laughs, a little hysterically. “Trick, come here.”

Trick, anxious but relieved, hurries to his side and kneels down beside the cupboards with him.

“I was rummaging through the cupboards this morning,” says Red. “Trying to figure out who I was.”

Trick winces at the sadness of it.

“I found all these IDs. They’re for different countries, different names, different ages, different everything. There’s about twenty-five of them and the pictures could work for any one of us. I don’t remember which one I used to pick up Dapper’s medicine.”

“Fuck,” gasps Trick, taking the box of IDs from him. “Fuck, okay, we can do this. There’s Irish, Norweigan, American, French, German, and Dutch IDs.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty white,” says Red.

Trick startles. “Did you just make a joke? I’ve never heard you make a joke.”

“Um - ”

“Never mind. Which should I take?”

Anonymous asked: You use krone as currency, you're in Norway!

“Are we?” asks Red. “I could have fucking sworn we were Irish.”

“We are,” says Marvin, and then pauses, confusion clouding over his eyes. “Are we?”

“It doesn’t matter,” snaps Trick, sorting out the IDs. “There’s five Norweigan IDs. Which should I take? None of these look like Dapper!”

“What sort of differences would Anti use to distinguish Dapper’s ID from everyone else’s?” asks Red. “Or should you just take all five?”

The boys stare between each other, trying to think.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I mean, Dapper is his favourite. Is there any extra care taken on any of the ID's? There has to be something!

“Some of them look newer than others… the birth dates are different…”

cest-mellow asked: red, blue? can you tell me any information about dap’s medicine? what name he uses, what kind, how much it costs? everything you say? this is important, anti is involved. trick is also into town to grab some stuff so if you have some change to spare for him..? thank you boys!

“I’m trying to remember,” sighs Red, sitting back on his heels. “I wish I could just go for him, I might remember something if I could see it. Medicine, medicine, medicine… I feel like the name of the prescription is on the tip of my tongue. Maybe it started with an H?”

“How about money?” asks Marv, coming up beside his brothers to help sort through the IDs. “You got anything stored?”

Red sighs. “Doesn’t matter. Store’s closed by now, I guarantee it. We’re getting close to nine at night and this is a small town, they don’t do twenty-four hours. You’re going to have to break in. You need the name Dapper uses or the name of the prescription, and preferably both.”

Trick jolts. “No, no - stealing shit is your job, I’ve only done that once and we were desperate!”

“Oh, you’re not desperate now?”

Trick whimpers, clutching at his hair. Marvin grabs his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Red, don’t you have anything that could help him?”

Red turns back to the cupboards, searching again. “There’s nothing tech-related down here. I’m assuming Anti keeps everything in his room. We could go up there and - ”

“No!” cries Trick. “No, no! Anti might let you off just for giving me advice, but if you go upstairs he will beat you into a fucking pulp, guaranteed. Dapper’s the only one upstairs and I’m not sure I want him involved.”

He pauses, biting his nails.

“I’ll… bring Doktor’s gun. And a hood and a mask, and try to break in on my own. The things upstairs would be nice, but it’s not like I can talk to Dap anyway.”

“What are you talking about, breaking in someplace?” protests Marvin, alarmed. “Is that something we do often?”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” frowns Red. “But maybe I’m wrong.”

“Fucking goddamn,” hisses Trick, exasperated. “I think I prefer no-memory Red, but he sure is useless.”

“Hey!” snaps Red, punching his shoulder. For once, Trick isn’t afraid that there are more blows coming, and he can’t help but laugh, wiping at tears in his eyes and shaking like a leaf caught beneath a door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there one that looks the closest to Dapper?? You're running out of time...

“No.” Trick’s voice is teary, he knows you’re right. “No, maybe I should just take them all and go.”

Anonymous asked: Does anyone know how many different countries you've been through before this place?

“Oh, I do.” Dapper’s picking anxiously at a splinter on the sill of his window. “Anti tells me and Red, says someone should know. Not that he’ll remember now, poor bloke. The three of us were in good old England for a while, then Ireland, Sweden, the Netherlands. Stopped once in Italy, then back to the Netherlands. I liked the Netherlands the most, we lived right by this great river, and Trick and Doktor were in the next room over, and I would listen to them talking and pretend I was talking to them too. And there were cats that would come up to the window and meow for fish. I loved it there. But we’re here now. I have a very nice view and I like the lights at night.” He sets his head in his hands, his mouth sad. “But I don’t expect we’ll stay long. We never do.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dapper, do you mind showing us your bottle of medicine? That way we can tell Trick what kind to get for you

“Sorry, I don’t see it in my drawer. I think Anti took it with him downstairs.” Dapper rubs his hands together, looking stressed. “I can’t help with anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so useless.”

Anonymous asked: Well, if you're breaking in, you probably won't need the right ID, right? You just need to find meds that match one of the names on the IDs. Bring all of them! And remember that it starts with H, Doktor was saying something like Hald?

“That’s a good point.” Trick looks relieved. “Okay. Let me grab the mask and the gun. Anything else I should bring?”

Anonymous asked: Which one has the youngest birthdate?

“Oh!”

Trick sorts excitedly through the IDs. “This one, um - born October 31, 1993 - Kayden James? Does that sound right?”

Anonymous asked: Haldol? It's an anti psychotic!

“Haldol.” Red snaps his fingers, delighted. “That’s it, I’m sure that’s right.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, I hope you realize that there is more at risk if Trick goes and gets the medication. What if he gets the wrong prescription? Or what if he's caught doing something he shouldn't?

The camera upstairs fizzles and glitches, casting Dapper momentarily in red light.

“Fixes all their mistakes,” plays across the screen in glitching green words.

For a second, Dapper gives the camera a disparaging look, as if he knows what’s being said.

“He’s getting overconfident,” he signs darkly, looking suddenly angry. Then he draws his arms around his chest and sits down on his bed, rocking himself gently, glancing over at the wall that separates his room and Anti’s office.

Anonymous asked: Do you have something you could use as a crow bar maybe?

“All the good stuff is upstairs or downstairs,” whimpers Trick, nevertheless sorting through the cupboards. “I wish I had some of the tech Anti usually gives Red. It’s - oh, fuck, what the hell is this?”

The boys pause to stare at it. It’s a short and very sturdy… stick?

“There’s a button on it,” says Marvin.

Trick presses it. They all jump hard as the stick expands into a full-length staff, Trick tumbling back onto his ass.

“Goddamn!” he snaps. “This is yours, Red.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a fighting staff.”

“You might be able to smash some shit with that. I’m more worried about locks.”

“Well, what’s that if not a lock picking kit?” Marvin points down at a little wrapped up pouch, inside which Trick finds a row of picks.

“Thank God,” he breathes, shoving them in his pocket.

“You know how to use those?”

“Yeah, actually. Fuck, well…” He glances longingly up the stairs at Anti’s room. “I guess that’s it.”

Anonymous asked: Let's see, mask so no one can see your face, gun to threaten people or break windows or something, ID to know which meds to get... unless you have a way to get you there and back faster, you might just want to go now, if no one can think of something else you might need. Time is of the essence.

“Right, right.”

Trick breathes out slowly, trying to steady himself. Fuck, he wishes he could do this with Doktor.

But he can’t. It’s up to him. He has to save his brother. Nothing else matters.

He turns back to the twins and jumps as Marvin presses the mask to his face and tugs the strap down over the back of his head. “Steal more than the Haldol, so the cops don’t trace it back to us. Narcotics or something. They won’t realize you’re anything more than a junkie. Take your brother’s big coat too,” he advises. “Keep the hood up and zip it all the way up, to hide your mouth.”

“Why are you helping me at all?” mumbles Trick, savoring the feeling of Marvin’s hands carding through his hair, just once. “We’re strangers. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

Marvin pauses. Trick stares up into his eyes. Soft hands, wrapped in warm gauze, descend to cup his face.

“I don’t remember much,” says Marvin, very quietly, so only Trick can hear, and the sheer tenderness of it is enough to bring tears to his eyes. For so long, Dok has been the only one who has cared about him. “But I do remember, little brother, that I love you very much.”

Trick snuffles, trying to hide his teary face as he swallows back the sudden pang of a very warm memory - someone holding him in a hotel room, promising him that everything will be okay, that he’ll be looked after, magic swimming quietly around their heads. He doesn’t want Red to mock him - but to his surprise, his oldest brother comes over too, and sets a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I can’t go in your stead,” says Red, and he sounds it. “Come back to us in one piece.”

Commanding but not cold. Not cold.

“That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” manages Trick.

He packs up his things as fast as ever he’s prepared for anything, snatching Dok’s coat from their nest and tugging the hood over his head, zipping it up from his mouth. Panting hard already, he takes off at a sprint down the steep path from the mountain to the village.

One hour and thirty minutes remain.

They watch him go, tortured twins wrapped in bandages.

“Can I ask you something?” asks Marvin.

“Yeah, course.”

“Why’s your hair red?”

“Fuck if I know. Yours is blue, after all.”

“Mine is what?”

Anonymous asked: Guys, you could just break down in front of the owners and say Dapper's very sick and you have no money....

By the time Trick makes it to the pharmacy, night has fallen dark about him and he is panting hard after the long run down the mountainside toward the sea. He slows as he reaches the village, tugging his hood lower over his eyes, darting behind buildings on his way to the store. There are people out and about, unfortunately, just across the street at the bar and restaurant where he and his brothers got fish just yesterday.

He almost chokes on the memory. He’d give anything to go back to that moment right now, watching Doktor eating fried food until his stomach was full and his mouth was smiling. He wonders if he’s afraid right now. He wonders if he’s in pain. He doesn’t know if Anti will keep his two-hour promise.

“Break down in front of the owners,” repeats Trick, panting as he makes his way to the back of the pharmacy. “I don’t know who the owners are - the shop is closed for the night and there’s no one home. I don’t speak Norwegian and don’t know if they speak English. I don’t know that they would give it to me, and if they did, I’d already have drawn too much attention to myself. But by all means, if you find a solution to all those problems, let’s fucking go for it.”

He rubs anxiously at his face, tears pricking in his eyes. “I don’t mean to snap,” he croaks. “I’m just stressed and - goddamn, no!”

He recoils from the door at the back of the pharmacy as though it’s stung him.

“I was hoping it would just be locked!” he cries, staring in dismay.

The door is locked with a digital number key pad, listing 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, and * all in a mockery of him. Trick grips at his hair. “This is a tiny town, why does it have any tech security at all!”

If he shoots it or tries to break it, he expects an alarm to go off. He needs to know the pass-code or risk breaking in while the cops respond.

Trick groans, turning his face away from the security cameras that watch from the door above, hoping he’s staying covered enough to hide. “Don’t suppose you would know the code? Please? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, please.”

juju-on-that-yeet asked: Look at the pad and see which numbers are the most worn down/faded. That'll give you a place to start, at least.

“M-maybe the 7?”

Anonymous asked: Do you know the address of the pharmacy, where it is on the street? Maybe the code is something like that, easy for employees to remember.

“No, I’m not sure… I’m scared to go around front and look. Or maybe if I could find their phone number online… but I don’t have any way to look that up.”

spicydanhowell asked: TRICK THE CODE IS 3677* (This was a number hidden in the tags of other posts)

Trick stares at you, panting hard. For a second, a million doubts run through his head - they could lie to me, they could make it up so I go to jail, they could be trying to get me away from Anti, they could be Anti trying to trick me and punish me, they could just be messing with me, I don’t even know who they are, how they’re talking to me, why they’re here, what they’d know -

But Dok is waiting for him. Dok is waiting for him and he doesn’t have any other choice and maybe there are some things that are worth putting a little faith in anyway, so he turns and presses his palm to the sensor, plugging in 3677*.

The handle turns in his hand and he gasps aloud, nearly collapsing from the relief. But time is of the essence, as you told him, and he needs to keep going, to be brave for his twin’s sake.

“Thank you,” he signs, tears in his eyes, and he shoves into the store, where bright lights flicker on in response to his movement.

“Okay, okay,” he chokes. “Now I just need Haldol, under the name Kayden James, and to steal something controlled so they don’t track it back to us and it just looks like I’m an addict looking for a fix. What did Blue say? Narcotics or something?”

spicydanhowell asked: a bunch of different stuff, trick, it hardly matters what, just get in and out. Two anons had similar advice added.

“Okay, you got it.”

Trick busts open the master-locked cupboards in the back, using Red’s fighting staff to smash through the wood - to his credit, he’s right that a small town pharmacy lacks good security for the most part, and no alarms go off inside, though he’s certainly been spotted by the security cameras staring down at him from all sides. He finds the prepared prescriptions arranged by last name and grabs at the J’s, finding the orange bottle marked “Haloperidol - James, Kayden” almost immediately, chock-full of the tiny white pills that help his little brother function. Nearly crying, he kisses the bottle and shoves it into his pocket, glancing back at the cold white clock on the back of the pharmacy.

He’s got fifty minutes to get home. He’ll have to run, but he can make it.

Just grab something. Just grab something.

But he doesn’t want people to not get their medicine. He’ll go for the unprepared stuff, the full boxes of medicine.

He turns to the shelves full of boxes and starts rummaging, looking for anything you listed, but nothing here is controlled, nothing addictive or used to make addictive shit, not that he can see, anyway. He glances toward an ancient safe with rusty hinges set on the table in the back and grins.

The hinges break after five furious strikes. There’s a crash as the door tumbles to the ground and he winces, his heart rate picking up. Someone on the street might have heard that. He needs to go.

He grabs two boxes of Percocet and three orange pain killer bottles. He turns back to the prepared prescriptions and scatters them across the floor. They won’t notice one missing in the middle of that, or they’ll assume it was just lost somehow.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Time to fucking go.”

He takes off, pressing back through the door again, staggering into the alley -

Where a small child is standing, staring curiously at the open door.

Trick freezes still, gasping, his hand clutched around Doktor’s gun.

It’s the boy from the shop, the one sitting on the counter while his grandmother checked them out. Trick realizes, distantly, that he was there when he bought this green coat.

The boy is staring at the gun at Trick’s side, fear making his eyes widen.

Trick tries to speak but can only stammer, his brain giving him no words at all. He doesn’t know what to do, and he is afraid.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Run, Trick. Just Run! The longer you stay, the worse things will get. You have everything you need! Four other asks, from florence-is-falling and three anons, gave Trick conflicting advice and were added.

Trick starts and then stops again, staggering slightly. Too many options - he’s not used to having any options at all, Anti or Red is supposed to be with him on missions, telling him what to do, making sure everything goes smoothly - this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t be happening at all, he wants to go home, he wants Doktor to hold onto him and rock him through this nightmare, until he falls asleep, and wakes up in the morning knowing it is far away -

Oh, fuck, he has to focus, he has to be brave, has to get this medicine home for Doktor, has to, has to!

“H-hi,” he manages finally, remembering your order to change his voice and quickly adopting the accent he always imagines Dapper’s signs in, clear and English. “Hi, there, love, it’s okay.”

The boy stares up at him, his little hands shaking, wrapped around a stuffed dolphin toy. He’s not well bundled up, only wearing a little coat, unzipped, for warmth. He’s perhaps seven years old. A kid this age shouldn’t be out on his own after light’s fallen, should he? And before Trick can think, the words are out of his mouth:

“Why are you out so late? Where’s Mum and Dad?”

A blush rushes up his little cold cheeks. He looks down at his dolphin, picking at its fin, mouth trembling.

“Oh,” says Trick, a little teasing now. “Snuck out, now, did we?”

“No,” squeaks the boy.

At least he speaks English.

“You’re sure?” asks Trick, slowly tucking the gun away in the hopes that the boy didn’t see it at all.

“Why were you inside the store so late?”

“Um,” stammers Trick, swallowing, trying to assert himself. “Um, well - because - because I thought someone had broken in. See how the door’s left open?”

The kid nods slowly, his face twisted up in thought.

“I was worried there was a bad guy inside,” adds Trick, nodding sharply. Okay, he can go with this. It’s a small kid. They’ve both caught each other. It’s okay. It has to be okay. This has to work. “So I went to try and stop him.”

“Ohhh,” says the boy, relaxing. “That’s why you have a gun.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“The police don’t have guns, though…”

Goddamn Europe and their safety laws. “Well,” he bullshits, his eyes flickering around desperately as he hears people walking down the streets. “I’m not a cop. I’m a - a superhero.”

The boy’s eyes widen. Excited. Wasn’t he drawing storm troopers yesterday?

“Like a Jedi,” adds Trick, nodding. “I have to use the gun because my lightsaber’s not working right now. Want to see?”

“Yeah!”

He grabs Red’s staff and pulls it out, extending it in one press of the button. He’s beginning to sweat - do you think the clock is ticking as fast as his heart beats?

“Wow,” breathes the child. “How are you going to fix it?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t talk right now. I’m in a rush. My - my brother’s in trouble. So I have to go. Okay? You need to go home to your parents, right? Shouldn’t have been sneaking out, should you? So tell you what - I won’t tell anybody that you snuck out, and then you don’t tell anybody you saw me here. Okay? Cause you know superheroes get in trouble with the police sometimes.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Please, bud,” gasps Trick. “Please, um - what’s your name, love?”

“Hunter.”

Trick stops breathing entirely.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter.

Why does he know that name - a little boy - mousy dark hair, big brown eyes, freckles and a smile on his mouth, crinkle paper and stuffed toys in baby hands, his baby, his baby, his baby -

He should have just run, or knocked him out, or threatened him, like you told him to. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s just a little boy. He’s just like his little boy.

He turns away from Hunter and takes off at a sprint, tearing along behind houses and buildings, back into the forest, sprinting, the stitch in his side gone, the pain in his chest gone, nothing remaining at all but the desperation to get home to his brother, and the memory that haunts him, the memory of a little boy all alone.

He moves faster than he’s ever moved up the pathway, branches striking across his brother’s coat. Behind him, he could swear he hears the snapping of dog’s teeth at his heel, the harsh breath of hounds hunting him down, teeth, teeth, teeth always waiting to devour, and he runs, runs, runs, even though he is beginning to lose hope that safety awaits him at the end of the road.

cest-mellow asked: dok? are you doing alright downstairs?

The camera is barely working, but someone must have restarted it. It flickers to life in shaking hands, and you see Doktor’s face.

Anti’s given him new glasses, unshattered, a bizarre show of affection preceding a torture session if Trick doesn’t hurry. He’s alone as far as you can tell, wiping slowly at his eyes as he cries steadily, breathing painfully thin.

“Can you please - ”

He pauses, swallows, restarts, water cascading down his cheeks.

“Can you please tell me if Trick is okay?”

He rubs at his cheeks. Everything he does is strangely slow - you’re pretty sure he’s too clammed up to move any faster. His voice sounds like it’s been put through a straining record player and his chest trembles with the effort of continuing to draw air.

“Anti… hasn’t… hurt me,” he wheezes. “But I think - I think I’d like - I want to go upstairs now, p-please…”

Anonymous asked: So, Marvin, hey, good to see you!! What do you remember? How do you feel?

Marvin’s sitting on top of the island, staring blankly at his hands. You’ve caught him and Red in the middle of a conversation, and his twin looks up at him with worry in his eyes from the floor.

“Umm.” Marvin is looking himself over, tugging down a strand of blue hair to see its color, opening his coat and examining his shirt and pants and jewelry. He doesn’t recognize any of it.

“I’m not even sure this is my body,” he mumbles. His hands shake minutely. Pulling back his sleeves, even Jack’s old tattoo fails to comfort him. They all have one of those. Running his hands through his hair does not give him the correct sensation - he has forgotten the tug of his long hair, but still he can feel that it is missing - he knows that the weight on his fingers is not the one he is used to, that these are not the shoes he is used to watching as he walked, that nothing is - nothing is right, nothing is - all of this - wrong, wrong, wrong -

Oh. On his wrist, there is a small flower, inked into his skin.

“Blue,” murmurs Red. “Doing okay?”

“I don’t remember anything,” whispers Marvin. “Do you?”

“I think there are flashes coming back to me… but not much.”

Marvin swallows, staring down at the flower. “Do you feel like… the person who you see in the mirror… is the wrong person?”

Red stares up at him, wearily. “Only a little,” he answers. “But the sensation is familiar.”

Marvin’s head snaps up. He stares directly at you.

“Is this how Anti always treats them?” he asks. “Sending them into terrors, threatening them for small mistakes, cutting up our hair and changing us without permission? Keeping the other boy in the attic? How long have I been here? Have I always been like this? Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Blue,” warns Red, staring frantically down at the basement. “Blue, careful what you say.”

“Because this person,” continues Marvin, ignoring him. “This person who Anti tells me I am - this is not the right person. I don’t think this is right. I don’t think Anti is right.”

“Blue,” hisses Red. “Blue, shut the fuck up. Do you want to get killed?”

But, though his memory is gone, his courage is not. And he needs to know. He has to know.

“This is not who I am.”

Anonymous asked: Trick is coming back, he's a little shaken but he's fine!

“Oh, he’s coming back, he’s coming back…”

Doktor hides his face against his knees, breathing harshly.

“Always comes back for me… H-hurry, Trick…”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: Blue!! BLUE!!??! NO! YOUR NAME IS MARVIN! MARVIN!! WE CAN'T LOSE YOU, TOO! NO! WHY... why... I - we can't... lose you, too... not you... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!! IS THIS SOME SICK WAY OF RUBBING IT IN OUR FACE!!?! I SWEAR, I WOULD MAIM YOU IF I COULD, AND I'M PRETTY SURE MARVIN FEELS THE SAME WAY! NOT BLUE, MARVIN! YOU SICK, DEMENTED PHYCOPATH!! (dapper, we might need a time rewindal...) (you did say that you would relive this day right?)

Red winces every time you say the name, covering up his ears and hissing out a warning, but Marvin only smiles, nodding slow.

“Yeah, that sounded more right than Blue when Trickshot said it… but that’s not his name either, now is it?”

oasisofgalaxies asked: I wont say your name right now if it hurts you. Blue, you were someone great, magnificent. a magician, a sorcerer with great power. You cam here because of your heart, your heart always filled with love for your brothers. You came because your brothers were in danger. You came here because Anti stole your brothers from you and turned them into people they aren't. You came here and were captured. You fought so hard, but you fell into the role Anti laid out for you. A role of shackles and chains.

Marvin stares down at his hands, thinking. “You were calling out to me days ago,” he guesses. “But I couldn’t hear you.

“A sorcerer, huh?”

Blue light flickers through his eyes. Red is beginning to look afraid. Your camera screen glitches.

“My brothers in danger…”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, you're a good person. You're a magician without his mask, but remember that underneath whatever clothes anti makes you wear or whatever name he calls you, you are Marvin and you are good.

“Good,” mumbles Marvin, thoughtful. “Strange, I… I’m not sure about that one… there’s this great self-hatred inside of my chest… But I guess goodness is a choice… and I think I’d like to choose it, if I could sort all this out… I have to sort all this out.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re a wonderful man who loves his brothers very much. And by brothers, I mean Red, Trick, Doctor, and Dapper. All of them. Not just your twin. You want to keep them safe and together. You sacrificed a lot to try and keep them safe.

“Did I? Sacrifice for them, try to keep them safe? Looks like I did a pretty fucking awful job.”

Tears spark in his eyes. He closes his eyes and his fist, grimacing as cold washes of memories return to him in blurs barely meaningful - Chase and Henrik hiding behind him, Jackie’s empty bedroom that terrible morning, Jameson dragged away from him, all his power come to nothing -

“But you’re right about one thing - all of them are my brothers. Not just Red. This is my family.”

musical-in-theory asked: You are a magnificent man who loves his brothers, all 4 of them. You are a magic man who does tricks for the delight of others. A kind man. A beautiful person who doesn’t belong in this terrible place

“Tricks?”

This brings a small smile back to Marvin’s face. “Really, like a performer? That’s wonderful. Ha, tricks… and you’re right, I am quite beautiful.”

Laughing, he tries to throw his hair, teasing, only to find it cut short again. “Ah, right… I’m Blue now…”

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you around? Are you okay? Do you know where Anti is?

Dapper’s laid out on his floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“Anti’s everywhere,” he signs dully. “I can feel him summoning up his strength. He feels… angry. You should warn my brothers to be careful. Whatever they’re doing, he doesn’t seem to like.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: You asked us to remember your name when you forgot it. And that's what we'll do, Marvin. Marvin, the Magnificent. The man who had a deeper understanding of things we'll miss you, Marv. Can I at least say goodbye? Please? Before he is truly gone forever? Bye, Marv. We'll miss you... sorry... this... is all our fault. Sorry.

Marvin stares at the ground. Red has come to stand beside him, gripping his shoulders, trying to keep him quiet.

“Maybe you should say goodbye,” he calls gently. “Give up the old name, please. I’m afraid Anti can hear you. Just - just say goodbye. Anti would like that. Yeah? You don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want - I can’t bear to see you hurt, please, please be quiet,” begs Red, shaking his shoulders. “Say goodbye, Blue, come on.”

His twin closes his eyes, trying to think.

oasisofgalaxies asked: You heard me!! You’re ok! I’m so happy, but now you have to be careful. Anti knows what you’re your up to, or at least he can sense it. Be careful Marvin. I’m worried that if he gets even more mad he’ll do something worse.

“Right, right,” murmurs Marvin. “I need to be quiet - these are his cameras - if he hears me, he could hurt Red to punish me.”

Anonymous asked: I'm with Red on this, Marvin, be very careful what you say and ask. There are eyes and ears everywhere. But no, Blue is not who you are. Anti is lying to you. You might recognize some names - cover your ears if it helps, Red - Jackie, Henrik, Chase, or Jameson? Jack?

Marvin looks up, his eyes full of light.

He wants to say the names out loud, so much it’s almost painful to hold them back, but another look at Red, distressed at his side, stops him short. Squeezing his twin’s hand, he quiets, thoughtful.

“We should change the subject,” he murmurs.

He looks up at Red. “Enough about me,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Red pauses, his eyes flickering around anxiously.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says. “I’m just… Red.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, just take everything as it comes okay? I'm saying this for your sake and your family's. We want to about a family field trip to the basement. Your name is Blue and what's important is what's here now. We can't worry about what's past.

Marvin swallows, clinging to Red’s sweatshirt. “Right, right… okay, yeah. I’m - I’m Blue now.”

He closes his eyes as though in pain, but only for a moment, because Red’s relief is enough to reassure him.

“There you go,” cries Red, pulling him into a crushing hug, which makes Blue laugh. “Fuck, now stop saying stupid things!”

Blue tries to shove him away, laughing hard. “Hey, fine, fine! Asshole, get off me!”

“I will not, you’re too stupid to be left alone - ”

Blue hugs him back, chuckling.

With his arms wrapped around his neck, Red thinks he remembers something, vaguely - a younger man in a cat mask, clutched tight to his chest, warm days at home, just the two of them, and then their joy, later, as their little house filled up…

He closes his eyes, pushing away its comfort. The past does not matter and to rejoice in it is dangerous. What matters is here and now. And what he has, here and now, is a family all its own. He can’t let the past matter. He can’t let himself remember. Blue’s hands are warm on his neck.

Your screen glitches.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey guys? Not to cut the sweetness sesh short or anything, but I'd be on your guard. Dapper is worried for you guys. Can you sense anything down there?

Blue and Red glance around, concerned, still holding each other’s arms.

But nothing seems to move.

Everything is quiet.

Still, they both get the sense that something has changed.

Footsteps in the hallway above them.

They exchange glances, confused.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, everything's okay here! Just Blue and Red, hanging out, being goofs. Nothing to see! Maybe you guys can go to the window and watch for Trick for a bit, since he's on an errand and not on watch?

“Sure,” says Blue, swallowing. “Um, yeah. Inconspicuous, right?”

He ends up too tired to get up the three little stairs to the nest, his stitches aching painfully, but Red manages to get up and sit beside the window, watching for his brother.

Anonymous asked: Can you guys be ready for Trick when he comes home? I don't want the door being locked or something stupid like that tripping him up...

“Okay,” agrees Blue, limping to the door and pulling it open. He sits down on the porch and waits, hopeful.

“I don’t expect he’s got much time left.”

Anonymous asked: Trick: *steals child* this is mine now

“I wish I could tell you,” pants Trick, drawing near to home. “That I wasn’t fucking tempted.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Marv, Blue if it keeps you safe, you should keep an eye on Trick when he gets back. He met a boy called Hunter. Not /Hunter/ Hunter obviously (I assume he's safe with his mum and sister) but it almost stirred a memory in Trick. If anything happens and he begins to properly remember, I'm sure he'd appreciate his brother trying to be there for him as best he can. I mean, I'm saying all this and I'm not even sure you remember who Hunter is.

“Oh, no… I don’t remember who Hunter is, but I think I get the gist. I’ll keep an eye on him… that’s all I can do, right? I’ll ask him how he is, keep an eye on him.”

Anonymous asked: Trick are you running? How close are you? Similar asks from florenceisfalling and cest-mellow were added.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Do I still have time?”

He’s panting hard, but there, in the distance, he sees Blue, sitting on the stairs. His brother rises as he approaches, calling for him.

“Yeah, I got it!” he cries, rocketing up the porch and practically leaping into the house, brushing past Blue. “I got it, I got it! Where’s master?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t seen him - ”

Trick yanks open the door to the basement and sprints down the stairs, sliding slightly on old blood. He finds Doktor curled up against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, shaking hard, but he doesn’t see Anti. He pauses to give his twin a quick kiss, promising him, “I got it, I got it, he won’t hurt you now!” before dashing back up the stairs.

“Where is he, where is he?” he cries, staring frantically around. “Anti, Anti, I got the - ”

Blue grabs his shoulders tightly, silencing him by his intensity. His vivid ocean eyes are fixed on the staircase.

Trick turns his eyes to look too.

Steps come down the stairs. Red, Blue, and Trick watch uncertainly as the silhouette appears.

“Dapper?” asks Trick softly.

Dapper’s body is at the bottom step.

Anti shakes his head no, slowly.

“Oh,” stammers Trick, backing up slightly against Blue’s chest. “Okay, um…”

Anti wears Dapper looser than he did Red. There is no stiffness, no scars, no pain. Dapper’s body fits him well. He tugs up the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt, complete with a bowtie, and reaches out an empty hand.

Panting roughly, Trick holds out the Haloperidol. The pills tremble in his fingers and steady in Dapper’s.

Anti regards them coolly, his head tilted. Curls of light brown hair tumble into ink and pitch eyes.

He turns to go, waving a disinterested hand at the basement. Trick, nearly wheezing, sorts his priorities out and decides not to question, darting back down the stairs to get his twin.

“Anti?” asks Red, summoning his courage.

Anti pauses, turning to look at him.

“Not questioning, sir,” says Red softly. “But is there a reason I should know about that made you decide to, um… wear… Dap?”

Fear and rage burn in Blue’s throat like vodka as he stares at the monster wearing his baby brother. A recollection awakens in his chest - Jameson, less haggard but no younger, curled up against his chest, teaching him sign language with careful, patient movements of his hands, laughing sweetly every time Marvin messed up. He swallows hard, squeezing tight his trembling hands, feeling magic curl like dragon-fire against his palms.

Anti turns and looks directly at him.

Looks directly at Marvin.

And then he turns around, in silence, and heads back up the stairs.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I hope one day you realize, Anti, that this isn't how you show love. There is a HUGE difference between love and control.

Anti is shadowed in darkness. He moves up the stairs, looking up at you.

“Maybe,” he signs. “But the difference no longer matters.”

 End Section Four of Chapter One.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

[savage-rhi]

GenexHiggs ☺ - for a happy kiss

Gene took in a deep breath, giving herself one last glance over in the mirror before she braced herself. It shouldn’t have been this hard, and days prior, she had treated this upcoming day as just another one, but as she started to head out of the home Higgs and she had finished, Gene felt herself getting cold feet. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to go through with it, but a plethora of emotions weighed in her mind. First, Gene never thought given the life she led as a porter she’d commit to someone like this. Second, Higgs was the one that suggested it. Usually, no matter how bat shit insane his plans were, Gene could always find the silver lining in them. Higgs was intelligent despite his general mannerisms, but Gene was beginning to wonder if he had truly gone off the deep end this time around. 

As Gene exited the house, she looked around the woods they lived in. The place was beautiful. The North had provided a haven for them both and then some since they escaped America all that time ago. It had been two years since then, and around four years they had known each other. Looking back on it, Gene was amazed at how fast it had gone by even with the horrible events that Higgs and her experienced. 

Gene could feel the morning dew of the grass hit her legs as she traveled to where Higgs was going to meet her. They both decided to hold this event at their favorite place, nearby a lake that had once been a void out crater marked by a BT. It was nearly a two-hour walk, but well worth the view especially when the sun barely started to come up over the mountain tops; the lake basked with trees all around as far as the eye could see minus a few patches of grassland. There was even a small river that begun to form due to a waterfall on a cliffside being nearby. This place was one of the reasons Higgs and Gene decided to settle and establish their new lives. The world couldn’t encroach on them, but they weren’t too far away if they ever wished to return to society, however that may look like. 

Gene let out a deep breath as she finally came to the spot, a clearing going out towards the lake. The water was clear to where it looked like the sky had fallen to the earth. She could see Higgs from afar, looking outward towards the edge of the lake and watching as the first rays of the sun began to rise. Some part of Gene wanted to kill him for requesting this be done early, but as she looked ahead, Gene understood why Higgs had been so damn adamant. It was beautiful, just like what they were about to do. 

Gene quietly made her way to Higgs, standing at his side as he continued to look out at the water. A small smile began to form on his lips before he turned to Gene. His eyes roamed over her face and body, admiring the small braids she had on her left, the golden flowers tucked in her hair, how she was wearing a casual dress along with her pants and boots. He held back a chuckle, adoration in his eyes at how Gene didn’t compromise anything about herself or appearances for this day. 

Gene took a moment to look at Higgs, searching his eyes. She was already getting lost in them after not seeing him for days. He was wearing black eyeliner with gold highlighting the marks, mimicking that of Pharaohs and royalty. His hair had been trimmed on the sides; the top barely messed with and his scruff had been groomed. He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black, and gold tribal cuff on his left wrist, and a long black cape with a hood similar to his old Homo Demens attire except it was adorned with golden hieroglyphics in the interior. He was beautiful as he was handsome. Masculine and feminine.

“You look much prettier than me, holy shit.” Gene murmured as Higgs let out a chuckle. He couldn’t stop smiling at her as he shook his head. 

“I’ll slap you if you say that again,” Higgs warned, his tone teasing as Gene snorted and shook her head in disbelief. 

“Already, here we are fighting like two assholes. You sure you want to do this?” 

Higgs nodded, and despite the deep affection in his features, the small creases on his face indicated how seriously he took the moment as his smile diminished some. 

“I’m sure of it.” Higgs took in a deep breath, his smile returning in full as he glanced over Gene one last time, right hand cupping her face as his thumb gently caressed over her skin. Gene’s hand reached up and touched his arm as she leaned into his touch. They both savored feeling each others skin again. 

“You ready?” Gene asked as Higgs nodded, retreating his hand away. He began to dig through a pocket on his pants as Gene did to her own. Gene took out a red ribbon and Higgs took out a golden chain. They both faced each other, looking down at their left and right hand respectively while they began to wrap the material around each other, lacing the ribbon and chain through their fingers and around their wrists, taking time to be gentle. They also took a moment to exchange items that were important to them: Higgs’s golden knife, and Gene’s necklace that was a key her father had back in Middle Knot. She put it around Higgs’s neck and afterward, Higgs tucked his knife into Gene’s pocket.

When they were finished, their hands locked together in full while they both sighed. Gene could tell Higgs was just as nervous as she was given she could see his pulse faintly beat in his throat as he stared at her. 

“Do you want to begin?” Gene asked as Higgs nodded, his eyes glancing back and forth across Gene’s face like he was reading a book.

“I will, I just want to remember how you look right now darlin’.” Higgs said quietly as Gene smiled, trying not to get flustered as he swallowed. 

“I am yours, and you are mine.” 

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Gene replied back. No hesitation on her part as Higgs was nearly beaming from ear to ear. Whatever it was they were going to say, whatever dedications they had practiced saying aloud on their own went out the door. They spoke of their loyalty and love through each other’s eyes, their gazes procuring everything words couldn’t touch before meeting in the middle with a kiss. 

Higgs and Gene both smiled against one another as they deepened the kiss, their free hands reaching each other's faces to caress and hold. It wasn’t the most passionate they shared, but it was enough for them as they parted. Their foreheads pressed against each other as they took in a deep breath.

“We’re married now, you feel different?” Higgs asked quietly, suppressing as laugh as Gene grinned.

“I was hoping you were gonna say we’re together in holy macaroni.” Gene admitted as they both burst out laughing.

“Fuck you, it was gonna be pepperoni.” Higgs said in between breaths as they remained close, barely pulling away.

“Macaroni is better.”

“Darlin’ you’re full of shit, pizza is the staple diet of all junk foods.”

“I want a divorce already.” 

“I’ll personally deliver the papers to ya.”

“Shut up.” Gene laughed, shushing him with another kiss. Their hands that were bound by the chain and ribbon freed themselves, falling to the ground as they wrapped their arms around one another. Higgs was the first to part as he nuzzled his nose against Genes, breathing her scent in as he held her tightly to his chest and kissed the top of her head. They both looked outwards towards the lake, seeing the sun was fully up.

“What do you want to do now?” Higgs asked as Gene looked up, her chin resting on his chest. A devious smile spreading across her lips as Higgs returned the affection.

“You.” 

Higgs let out a snort, pressing another kiss to Gene’s temple as he hummed in thought. 

“You’re terrible. I like that.”

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[lisinfleur]

Under Her Skin

Author’s Notes | I would like to thank this dear anon for this request. Such as the one I did for Sigurd (Here, for the ones who want to see!), this request treats about a very delicate and important theme that must be shouted out to the four corners of Midgard: eating disorders aren't mimimi or bullshit. They're real, they're diseases that can consume a person entirely and drag someone into an endless vortex that will lead whether to permanent sequels or death. Always treat this theme with patience, comprehension, and dedication. Be gentle, kind, and supportive with a victim of these conditions. Many times, support is everything a person needs to get rid of Mia’s chains or Ana's cold embrace.

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW6. Suggested soundtrack: All I need (Within Temptation) Words | 2264 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of eating disorders, romance. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

You thought he was stupid.

Hvitserk was convinced you thought he was stupid enough to think that small stains of sauce in your plate were enough for him to believe there was food over that surface and your fingers were really cleaning your mouth with that absolutely clean napkin in your hands.

He was observing you through the last months since his fingers noticed your stomach were flatter and your waistline reducing...

You stopped making your meals with him, dedicating yourself to make company to your husband, sometimes even serving his food in his mouth, but almost never taking pieces to yourself.

It started when Torvi asked you if you were pregnant in the last time his brother Björn feasted in your house with his wife and kids. You were surely in your fertile days - after years by your side, Hvitserk was used to see how your lines and curves were more attractive when you were in these days - but somehow you took his sister in law's curiosity in a different way and now, you were thinner and thinner and somehow any food he could buy or hunt for your cabin was lasting longer...

Of course. The two of you would devour a pan of stewed rabbit with vegetables in a day. But he would take two meals to finish the same pan.

And making the math, sometimes he was taking really twice the time to see the meat finished at the pans or the leftovers going out to the pigs and the cattle to avoid the loss of good vegetables...

You weren't eating.

And now he was sure, for you weren't even disguising it properly anymore: you were so used to his lack of perception that you forgot to simply mess with the food into the pans to pretend it was eaten this time: the rice and mashed potatoes were untouched. Your plate was dirty only with a small stain of the meat's sauce.

Hvitserk giggled, disgusted. The cap of the pan in his hand.

"What? Is there something wrong, husband?" you asked, afraid you had cooked anything he didn't want or didn't like.

You were sure that was one of his favorites!

Yet, he looked at you, serious and seeming to be angry.

"Why are you lying to me, wife?"

That question caught you unprepared and you frowned at him, surprised.

"What are you talking..."

His anger was so vivid that Hvitserk didn't let you express your confusion, bringing the subject straight to the table and taking the surprise away from your face, putting on a horror expression when you realized he discovered what you were hiding so far.

"Don't play me the fool anymore! You're not eating, Y/N! And don't come to me with this stained plate pretending you did anything but spread some sauce in this thing. You didn't eat, such as you didn't eat today at breakfast, yesterday at dinner... Such as you have been skipping meals all the time, thinking I'm stupid enough to not to notice my wife is fucking disappearing inside her clothes!"

You weren't expecting to be uncovered this explicit way and your first reaction was, obviously, trying to keep the disguise, giggling at his absurd comment.

It was absurd, right? You weren't "disappearing into your clothes" as he said. Instead, your dresses were awfully strange in your body and you were sure it was because you were fat like a pregnant woman swollen with the child the gods still didn't have brought into your marriage, but you were already showing in your large body.

If it wasn't like this, why would Torvi insinuate you were enormous enough to be confused with a pregnant woman?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hvitserk. I'm not losing weight..."

But again, he interrupted you, coming closer.

Those wrinkles in between his frowned eyebrows causing his face to look pretty annoyed.

"Do you think I'm blind?"

You weren't understanding all that anger in his eyes, but Hvitserk was pretty annoyed with that whole situation. Did you really think he was that stupid to not to notice such a change in your life?

"Do you think I care this few about you? To miss such a thing like you skipping all the fucking meals we should be doing together? This is how you see me as a husband? A careless bastard who cannot see his wife's skin gluing to her bones?"

His pride was offended. But his words were making no sense for you! You were fat! You were sure it was the reason why Torvi was so sure of your pregnancy! How could he think you were thinner this way with such a small time and little effort?

Right, you weren't eating more than an apple per day, hiding the parts in a napkin into the kitchen to eat a quarter of it in each meal and it was keeping you kinda alive; drinking water enough to fill a barrel and that was it. Hiding from Hvitserk's eyes by dirtying your plates and pretending you had eaten before him or throwing up the food you were obligated to eat in the collective feasts at the Hall by his side.

It wasn't that much for him to be so annoyed or worried... Was it?

"I... I have been trying to lose some weight, but... It's not that much, husband, I don't see a reason for you to be so annoyed," you said, really confused by all that anger in his eyes.

But he giggled again, looking at you in disbelief.

"You don't see a reason maybe because it must be hard to see yourself in the mirror! For the gods' sake, woman, you're starving yourself! You gonna find a way to get yourself sick! Now stop this shit right now and put some food for yourself or else I won't eat as well and then we can see which one of us will faint first!"

He was so pissed... Why?

Weren't you trying to be pretty for him? Wasn't him your reason for all that effort? Why was he so pissed off when you were trying to prevent him from being mocked because of his wife's terrible appearance?

It wasn't fair! And it annoyed you he was being so rude. Well, he could go to Hella's embrace if he wanted: you wouldn't become a whale just because he didn't know how to be grateful!

You placed a full plate for you, filling it as much as you could and looking at him disappointed and annoyed.

"Are you satisfied now, Hvitserk?"

To what he answered annoyed as well.

"No. The plate is still full. Sit and eat, wife!" he almost ordered, causing you to grunt in anger.

How could he be so ungrateful?

You ate that food until the last grain, pushing it inside with the bigger amount of water you could drink in between the portions. The bigger was the quantity, the easier would be throwing that up after that meal, so you didn't try to economize.

But Hvitserk already had observed that behavior in you as well. Whenever you were in a feast on the Hall, you were eating like that, unnaturally filling yourself with mead, water or whatever there was to be drunk, swallowing the food in large portions. Getting up as soon as you finished.

"I hope you're satisfied. I'll go out to piss now if you don't mind this as well, husband," you said, aggressive.

Out to piss...

Hvitserk didn't miss that either. His eyes followed your steps and he waited for some minutes before following you outside to find exactly what he was predicting: you, on your knees near the bushes, vomiting out everything you had tried to swallow so fast.

"I knew you were doing this!" he pointed out, furious, scaring you, causing you to almost choke and cough a lot. "I knew you were fucking throwing up! What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?" he complained, helping you to put yourself straight and pushing a cup of water into your hands. "Why are you fucking doing this, uh?"

He was being so rude! So, you decided to be rude against him as well, drinking the water just to put yourself straight enough to answer him with the same angry tone he had against you.

"I'm doing it for you, you idiot! Cause I don't want you to be mocked by the others because your wife is a damn whale! I'm fucking doing everything I can to keep me pretty for you and this is what you give me in exchange!” you yelled, hurt.

Feeling he wasn't being fair to your sacrifices.

His face twisted in a shocked expression.

"For me? You're fucking killing yourself and you think it would be something good for me?"

Why was he being so extreme?

"I'm not killing myself, Hvitserk. I'm not even thinner!"

"The fuck you aren't! Y/N you used to have curves! Now look!" he placed his hands around your waist and his fingertips almost touched each other in a perfect circle: index near index in your back, thumb near thumb in front of your belly.

Your flat and small tummy you thought was swollen...

You looked at the fabric of your dress, compressed in between his fingers, almost as if it was the only thing preventing his fingertips to touch each other surrounding your waist perfectly. His hands were shaking in nervousness.

"You're fucking starving to death, Y/N! Throwing up meals, fucking skipping them, drinking more water than I never see a human being able to hold and do you really think I didn't see you chewing the pieces of that damn apple you cut in four every day?"

He was so nervous...

It wasn't anger. Your eyes faced his and he didn't look angry for you anymore.

Hvitserk was... Afraid?

"I'm fucking seeing what you're doing! I have been watching you! Stop freaking lying to me!"

He was cursing so many times... His voice was trembling just like his hands and he pulled you into his arms, causing your heart to skip a beat when you felt his heart rushing so fast into his chest.

"You're fucking killing yourself! I'm fucking losing you and I don't know what to do to make you stop! Fucking stop, Y/N! Just stop! Please..."

You could feel his hands into your hair and around your waist, his kisses to your forehead and the top of your head.

"Stop..."

His voice was so cracked, so worried. His heartbeat so fast.

You were doing that for him but... It wasn't making him smile. Or proud. Or happy.

Instead, Hvitserk was scared in a way you never have seen before, holding you as if releasing that embrace would mean losing you to whatever was taking you away from him.

You held him back, slowly. You never wanted him to feel so worried or scared that way.

"I... I just wanted to be pretty for you," you mumbled. "Torvi thought I was pregnant that day... And... I didn't want you to be mocked by your brothers... Or the others... I just wanted to be pretty for you, I swear."

You were shocked. You never thought you had gone so far.

You were feeling weaker these days, but you thought it was a normal thing for someone in a diet, right? You never thought you were that thin...

The image of his hands around your waist was kinda impressed into your mind.

"You are pretty. You are the prettiest woman in Midgard and I don't need you to starve yourself this way! You say you're doing this for me. I don't want to, Y/N!" he said, cupping your face, touching his forehead to yours, "I don't want you to do it. I don't want this. It's not making me happy. I don't wanna fucking lose you, Y/N!"

Your poor sweet prince... He was so scared! So full of fear...

Your hands touched his face, caressing his beard softly the way you knew he liked to feel. And he held your hand, kissing your palm, allowing you to notice there was really a huge difference between your fingers and his.

"Promise me you won't do this again..." Hvitserk asked, kissing your fingers. "Promise me you won't leave me, Y/N."

Leave him...

You wouldn't think about such a thing. Ever.

But his fear was so palpable... Maybe you were really hurting yourself that much.

"I... I don't wanna leave you, my love, I never wanted this to happen," you said, keeping the small caresses, feeling his thumb sliding through your cheek.

"Then stop it. Come back inside. I'll make you some tea to heal your stomach. Then, you'll eat with me, every meal. You don't need to eat that much! But eat with me, like you used to do... I don't mind your curves, Y/N. I love every inch of you and you're taking my inches away..."

You laid your head against his chest, nestling in his neck, kissing softly his jawline, nodding in agreement to his ask, feeling the way he seemed to slowly relax with the idea that terror was over and you wouldn't fight him about that anymore.

"I don't feel hungry..." you mumbled, "But I'll try to make it for you."

"Yes," he mumbled back, near your ear. "This is something I want you to do for me... I want you to live with me, love. I want you to stay with me."

If he wanted that, then you could try.

For him, you could do anything.

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[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

“Us” (2019) - Thoughts (SPOILERS!)

So I watched Jordan Peele’s “Us” today at the cinema and I just need to get some stuff off my chest about it because I went alone and have no one to discuss it with xD

Please do NOT read if you want to avoid SPOILERS!!!!

This movie creeped the fuck out of me - it wasn’t a particularly jumpscare-filled movie but it was creepy as fuck

So the movie opens with Adelaide going to this funfair/amusement park and wandering off into a house of mirrors. There she meets an exact clone of herself (Red) and she’s not the same since. She’s traumatized and can’t really speak about it, though they say she takes up dance or something as a way to express herself

That opening with the creepy choir music and rabbits? What the fuck? I did not need that nightmare fuel?? :))

I literally had no idea about the amount of tunnels that are apparently under America but woW OKAY THAT’S NOT UNSETTLING AT ALL

Fast forward to present day and she’s an adult with a husband and kids, and they’re at the beach where the above stuff happened, and she’s super freaked out about it.

The Tyler family are literally so white privilege - and I say that as a white person. It’s fucking hilarious. “It’s vodka o’clock” - lmao that really is such a white thing to say

Also the twins?? They were Ross and Rachel’s daughter, Emma, in Friends when they were babies?? 

I actually liked most of the humour to be honest, it kind of lulled you into a false sense of security

Zora pretending to turn off her phone and then continuing to use it once her mom had gone was so relatable tbh

I probably shouldn’t have taken my glasses off and redone my hair at the exact moment the Tethered people showed up because I’m blind as a bat and it was a blur for a full minute whilst I tried to rearrange my goddamn headband

Pluto (Jason’s ‘Other/Tethered’ person) was literally so fucking creepy; maybe it was the mask, maybe the movements, maybe everything put together...but holy S H I T. NIGHTMARE FUEL

The story that Red was telling about the shadow?? Y I K E S. 

Also Red needs to drink some water, it was super unsettling

I’m never going to look at scissors the same way again

Yo the Tylers getting murdered happened so fast WTAF 

Love how we were tricked into “oh they’re out there?? oh no they’re not, haha cool...fUCK o_O”

I probably should not have laughed so hard when Kitty called out to “Ophelia” to “phone the police” and it went “now playing fuck the police” XD

Also “Ophelia”?? I see you with your “Alexa” parody, movie!

Can I just say that the twins and their Tethered selves doing gymnastics freaked me out way more than anything else in any other horror movie yIKES

The scene where Kitty’s doppelgänger (Dahlia I think?) puts on lipstick, goes to hurt Adelaide but then cuts her own face open instead and laughs?? Literal chills, man

Being a gore fan, I really appreciate the sheer amount of blood in this film, 11/10 high-key recommend 

I can’t believe that every time we eat anything, the Tethered versions of ourselves have to eat raw rabbit like??? gross?? definitely not having nightmares about that...

The white people’s boat is called B’Yacht’ch I fucking cannot

Also usually in horror movies, it’s a cliché that the “token black person” dies first but in this film it’s the irritating white people who all die, and all of the black family survive this is good content

The soundtrack is A+

The fight scene/dance duel scene? With the remix of “I got 5 on it”? BEAUTIFUL. POETIC CINEMA I SWEAR

THE TWIST AT THE END BYE

I am so confused and questioning everything I know, what the fuck Jordan Peele

Okay so the “twist” deserves it’s own section because bitch the FUCK

So the huge twist (SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER) is that Adelaide and Red switched places right at the start of the movie - so the person who we think is Adelaide is actually Red, and vice versa

I’m not saying the twist was bad but I kinda knew already that Adelaide and Red were switched at the beginning of the movie - I mean the moment is heavily implied in the trailer!

I think they drop so many hints/clues throughout the film that it starts to add up quickly

First of all, the fact that Adelaide-who-is-really-Red only drinks water and barely eats anything. Like she repeatedly refuses to drink any alcohol too

It’s mentioned that Adelaide-who-is-really-Red doesn’t talk a lot, and at first it’s like “oh it’s the trauma of whatever happened in the funhouse” but then it makes sense that it’s actually Red

Adelaide-who-is-really-Red REALLY did not want to be back at that beach - again you assume it’s because “trauma” but nah, it’s because she knows what she did

The way Adelaide-who-is-really-Red killed one of the doppelgängers was kinda reminiscent of how the Tethered were killing people

The story that Red-who-is-really-Adelaide tells about giving birth to those ‘monsters’ seems oddly human for something supposedly without a soul (since she mentions that the experiments duplicated the human body but they couldn’t do the soul) - and then it’s like “...oh fuck”

Red-who-is-really-Adelaide knows that ‘real’ people eat proper food because she ate it herself; ‘real’ children get proper toys because she did too, etc. 

The reason that Red-who-is-really-Adelaide’s voice is so hoarse/raspy is because Adelaide-who-is-really-Red choked her into unconsciousness before taking her place

To add, Red-who-is-really-Adelaide is the only ‘Tethered’ who can actually talk

The fact that the beginning of the movie shows Red-who-is-really-Adelaide watching an advert for People of America on TV (the people holding hands across the country), it’s on her t-shirt when the switch happens and then that’s exactly what the Tethered start to do. Also, near the end of the film, you see her cutting up those paper-chain-people who are holding hands 

The Thriller t-shirt; right at the end of the Thriller music video, there’s the whole identity question of “is he who we think he is”? (I think)

So, here are a few gripes I had despite overall liking the movie;

It started off kinda slow, which was good in some ways because of tension and character establishment etc, but putting a whole two to three minutes opening credits thing really slowed it down a lot after the opening (though I did like the soundtrack during those credits)

Despite the switch being relatively well-done and a good twist, it just seemed really obvious after seeing the trailer

The twist sort of brought some plotholes but I’m going to bring that up in my question section in a sec since it may be intentional (you’ll know what I mean in a second)

I feel like a few times during the film, it was building up tension to be terrifying/scary but then the “punch”, as it were, came too soon to reach its full potential - like it peaked a tad too early

Finally, questions I have after the movie! (and boy, do I have questions)

Does Red-who-is-really-Adelaide not know that she’s not one of the Tethered? Did she forget completely? Like why does she want and plan to kill all “normal” humans? She must retain SOME memory because she talks about food/toys, plus the People of America/holding hands thing. 

Also does Adelaide-who-is-really-Red not remember that she’s one of the Tethered at all before the end of the film? 

The Tethered are all shadows of the “normal” people (for lack of a better phrase), so why is Adelaide-who-is-really-Red able to a) speak normally, b) dance so well, c) move more “normally”? And why does Red-who-is-really-Adelaide not move “normally” (eg. the dance parallel) when she’s “normal”?

^^ I wonder if over time they both forgot or repressed those memories, and only fragments remained. And then Adelaide-who-is-really-Red only remembers at the end that she’s actually a Tethered-person.

Adelaide-who-is-really-Red is a Tethered-person, right? So does that mean that the “normal” Zora and Jason are half-Tethered? Is that why they manage to survive so well or...?

Why does Red-who-is-really-Adelaide want to kill everyone in the outer-world? Is this supposed to reflect not separating “us” vs “them” or something? She clearly got loose from being cuffed to the bed, so why didn’t she escape after and go back home?

^Also, who uncuffed her? And why? Was it the Tethered?

Sometimes it’s like the Tethered completely mirror the “normal” versions, and then other times they don’t. Which is it? Why?

What happens next?? What is the purpose of the Tethered all holding hands in a line? What are they hoping to achieve? Are they trying to send a message?

Jason seems to realize that Adelaide-who-is-really-Red is...well, actually Red - and so does she now. What impact does this have? Is she going to go crazy and kill her family? 

Do Tethered have feelings? Or emotions? Because Adelaide-who-is-really-Red married Gabe so...? You know?

Is the fact that neither of them remember the switch that well/they both adapted supposed to signify that souls aren’t a real thing?? Because supposedly that’s what the Tethered lack?

Are there Tethered for ALL of America or just Santa Cruz? And what about the rest of the world? Do I have a Tethered-version of myself??

Finally, if there is a Tethered version of me out there, I’m sorry for eating so much since that means you’ve had to eat a fuck ton of raw rabbit :’( Please don’t kill me, we can be friends!

Overall, though, I did enjoy the movie! :)

[arcanesupern0va]

Rick In The Water; Ch11: Exit Wounds

Summary: The night of Ryan's death from Nova's perspective.

A/N: This chapter was so fucking hard to write. It broke my heart to put myself in the fucking shoes of Ryan and say such horrifying things about my bb. The next chapter will deal with Nova dealing with the trauma of the aftermath of everything that happened. My poor sweet girl 😭 Also, next time I do interwoven chapters I will absolutely try to do them so much better. I wasn't thinking about using the hospital scene in this chapter but I wanted to kind of try to explain why she was acting the way she was and I just don't think it's the best. It's not the most important part of the chapter so I'm going to leave it alone. I tried really hard to word it right but I just couldn't get it to feel the way I wanted it to within the parameters I'd set in the last chapter. In any case, this story is a trial and error of me trying to hone my skill again after years of being unable to focus long enough to tell a story of this caliber and length so I just kind of hope you guys bear that in mind when you're reading. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, it really means the world to me! -Jess♥ CW: There is heavy violence and extremely abusive language within. Please continue with caution. Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 7179

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch10: Nothing Follows, Nothing Stays| 

+Nova+

The previous night

The car ride to get Madison was the kind of terse silence that should be used to torture information out of violent offenders. I was ‘lucky’ to even be brought along on the trip but rumors that I had become a recluse was tarnishing Ryan’s reputation earned me my first painful steps out of the house.

“You have one hour. I want you looking put together and refined,” he demanded sharply. I had been in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters down as per his request when he stormed in angrily. “People think you’ve become some fucked up hermit after losing your job. I’m going to see to it that you put an end to it.” I nodded obediently, dropping what minuscule crumbs that had been on the counter in the trash and hurried upstairs.

I was in and out of the shower in a flash, sitting down at my vanity to dry and style my hair. I avoided meeting my own eyes in the mirror, unable to bear the sight of the large bruise that circled my eye, courtesy of a misinterpreted offhand comment. I brought my hair into a high braided bun, simple enough but also didn’t allow any extra leverage if Ryan decided I had done something to upset him. I started on makeup, struggling to make any real change to the dark circle. I went over to my closet, retrieving a long halter sundress and a light cardigan to cover the hand-shaped bruises that covered my arms and legs. I posed in the mirror meekly, surveying myself carefully. The dark around my eye still drew the most attention so I dug around for a little while, finally extracting a pair of large sunglasses from an old purse. Their tint was dark enough to mask the bruising while the frame large enough to cover it.

I returned to the vanity to touch up my lipstick but I found myself staring out into space as anxiety seeped into my resolve. I was terrified of having to confront him, all these bruises, my busted lip; they had all been for this night. Once Madison got home, I was going to wait until Ryan went to sleep for the night and finally make my escape. The plan was to go straight to Beth’s house. If Ryan showed up, the cops could be called or if worse came to worst, Rick would just kill him. It was tempting but the thought of Madison growing up without a father who loved her reminded me too much of how I grew up. I couldn’t let that happen to her too.

I couldn’t let her end up like me.

“What in the fuck are you doing? We’re going to be late!” Ryan swore as he flung the bedroom door open, glaring down as he surveyed my outfit carefully. “I guess this will have to do, put on those sunglasses. We’ve got to fucking go.”

I grabbed the closest pair of shoes, unfortunately not my trusty running shoes, but a pair of high heeled wedges. Ryan grew frustrated quickly as he watched me wobble across the carpeted floor, grabbing my wrist to pull me behind him. I managed the first few steps but stumbled despite my best efforts, colliding into the wall as a sharp pain shot through both my ankle and my brow line. Ryan groaned in frustration as blood trickled down the curve of my nose.

“You have got to be fucking kidding.”

He released my wrist with enough force to send it in to the wall as well. The old wound ached at the impact as tears streamed down my face. I limped into the bathroom, gingerly inspecting the damage in the mirror. A large gash now split my brow as blood continued pouring out. Wetting a washcloth, I pressed it to my forehead as I searched for the liquid bandaid I kept for things just like this.

“(Y/N), stop fucking around, let’s fucking go,” Ryan bellowed, walking into the bathroom. He watched my methodical application of what was essentially glue, a small smirk forming over his face at every wince of pain. Was he enjoying this? Was watching me suffer this much of a thrill to him? I returned my sunglasses to my face, relieved when they covered most of my brow line to conceal the wound, pulling my bangs back down to cover the rest. I popped a couple of painkillers to try to mitigate the pain still shooting through my ankle.

“I’m ready,” I announced timidly. I walked carefully, trying to ignore the shooting pain I felt with every step. When I was outside, I didn’t dare look anywhere near the Smith household. I couldn’t see Rick right now. I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to throw myself into his arms again, to feel that overwhelming sense of protection I hadn’t even noticed until it was ripped away from me. I could feel his eyes on me but with Ryan putting on the show of dutiful husband, I couldn’t chance it.

*+*

The drive was long, only the dulcet tones of the talk radio he enjoyed so fervently. A man droned on and on about stocks and their rising and falling but I found my usual comfort in staring out the window. If I closed my eyes for a moment, I could tell myself this was Rick’s ship. I could pretend, even for that short moment, that it was Rick next to me just taking me out on another adventure. The illusion would inevitably be shattered by the mind-numbing voice on the radio, a poor replacement for the low music always playing in Rick's ship.

“When we get home, you may mend your ankle but for the time being you are to act as though nothing is wrong,” he told me as he swerved in and around traffic. “We will be stopping for dinner on the way home, I won’t have time to wait for you to make it yourself.”

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Quiet. I am in no mood to listen to your voice.”

Picking up Madison went as smoothly as I could’ve hoped. The pain killers had their intended effect, numbing the pain enough for me walk smoothly in the high heels. I was able to keep my sunglasses on, never going inside or anywhere else that would have warranted their removal. We made small talk with the other parents and Ryan even told jokes. Everything a normal and happy couple would do; Ryan’s mission seemed to be completed, at least for today. The other parents seemed overjoyed to see me, assuring me of how happy they were as a couple of the husbands nudged him with remarks of how they were glad we hadn’t killed each other yet.

When we finally climbed back into the car, Madison shoved her earbuds into her ears, blasting music to drown out the world around her. Ryan glared into the rearview mirror but said nothing to her, instead, berating me in a low voice for allowing this kind of behavior at all. He begrudgingly stopped at the closest fast-food chain that was still open this late; ordering for the car in the drive-thru before parking the car and divvying out the food. I was given a salad and muttered comments about my weight, my cheeks burning red. It tasted like ash in my mouth but I swallowed every bite knowing there would be repercussions if I left a single leaf to waste.

I was relieved when our exit finally appeared, knowing the car ride from hell was almost over. This life from hell was almost over. It was dark now, my sunglasses now being used for me to fiddle with anxiously. I straightened up in my seat, earning me a reproachful look from Ryan as he looked me over suspiciously. I slunk back into the seat at his piercing gaze and returned to the window, praying silently that this nightmare would truly be over soon.

I dared a glance at the Smith house as we pulled into the driveway, surprised to find the garage dark with the shutter still wide open. As Ryan delegated tasks to me, I dared a glance over to the garage, spotting a familiar blue glistening in the moonlight. I offered the most minute of smiles at the garage but the feeling of protection allowed to smile to linger allowing Ryan to quickly put two and two together.

“Madison, take this inside,” he ordered, handing her suitcase to her. He watched her disappear inside, before gripping my arm tightly.

“Don’t fucking think I didn’t fucking see that,” Ryan muttered as he twisted my arm behind my back. “Get in the fucking house.”

Obediently, I grabbed as many of Madison’s belongings as I could and carried them into the house without a second glance to Rick. Tonight was only going to work if I was careful. If I wanted to get out of this house with Madison and me intact, I had to focus on the task at hand, not Rick. I carried Madi’s bags up to her room, stopping to kick my wedges off by the door. My ankle cried out in anguish as I made my way up the stairs to her room, the painkillers finally wearing off. I knocked gently before pushing her door open to find her sitting on the side of her bed scrolling through her social media accounts and catching up with her friends.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come downstairs?” I asked, sitting the bags down by the bed and holding my hand out to her. If she was distracted, she wouldn’t unpack. If she didn’t unpack, she would be ready to go as soon as possible.

“No, that’s okay Mom,” she replied, not even looking up from her phone, “Dad seems like he’s in another mood. I’ll just hang out up here.”

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

My eyes welled with tears as I played with hair, twirling it around my fingers. Her brown hair was longer, almost reaching the small of her back. The sun had done well to lighten it a few shades in exchange for deepening her tan over the summer. She looked older and her general demeanor had seemed to mature as well.

“I missed you too, Mom,” she groaned, detaching from her phone long enough to smile up at me before immediately returning to it.

“I guess I’ll just leave you to your phone,” I teased. Kissing her head softly, she groaned at me loudly again before I finally took pity on her and left the room, leaving her to her friends to catch up. I stopped quickly in my bedroom, changing out of my long dress and into a tank top and sweats before taking a deep breath, steadying myself before heading back down the stairs.

“What were you and Madison talking about?” Ryan demanded, stepping out of the living room with a furious glare plastered on his face as my foot came in contact with the bottom step.

“N-Nothing Ryan,” I blurted out, stumbling back in surprise, “I just told her I missed her and asked if she wanted to come downstairs and spend time with us.”

“Mhm.” He watched my face carefully as I slipped around him into the living room, trying to find any inkling of a lie. “You really think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

“U-Up to? I’m not up to anything!” I lied, proving only to make him angrier.

“You’re going to take Madi and try to run away tonight, aren’t you?” he accused as he followed me, hysterics beginning to leak into his voice. “You are not taking my daughter anywhere and I will be damned if I let you go running back to your senior special.”

“R-Ryan, I am h-here. With you. Not Rick-”

“Don’t say his fucking name,” he spat. “You sound fucking pathetic.”

“Ryan, it was nothing. What happened between him and me, it meant nothing-”

“Shut your fucking mouth (Y/N). I don’t need you fucking insulting me. I’m not fucking stupid, at least not completely. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me this past fucking summer but that shit is over with. You are my fucking wife until death does us part. Don’t fucking make me speed up that process.”

“Ryan-”

“I fucking said shut up,” he bellowed, using the back of his hand to throw me into the couch. “Don’t you fucking start crying either. Don’t start fucking screaming. If anyone shows up here, I don’t care if it’s a fucking Mormon missionary going door to door, you’re going to fucking regret it. But don’t worry, you won’t die. Although, I'm not sure what the life expectancy is for a mother who lost a child violently.” He paused, eyeing me maliciously as the true threat of his words sunk in. “You’re out of control (Y/N) and I will do whatever it takes to put a stop to it and restore order to this house.”

I didn’t speak, but I couldn’t stop the silent tears that streaked down my cheeks. He had gone too far threatening Madison. I brought my hand to the stinging on my face and it seemed that even silent, the emotion still offended him. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently as veins bulged in his forehead.

“I fucking told you not to cry.”

His shaking was getting harder yet, my head flinging forward and back sharply. I knew if I didn’t start fighting back soon, he wouldn’t stop until he snapped my neck. I brought my arms up between his to push his hands away from me, managing to take him by surprise and break out of his grip. I slid out of his reach, crawling away as he recovered. He caught up quickly, grabbing my ankle and pulling me back to him on my stomach. He flipped me over, doling punishment out by colliding his knuckles into my cheek violently as I tried to squirm away. On my back, I was able to deliver a swift kick to his groin, dodging out of the way of his onslaught. I pushed myself off the floor as he doubled over gasping for air. In a last-ditch attempt to buy myself some time as I fled the living room, I quickly flipped the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.

I headed to the kitchen, desperate for any kind of weapon to defend myself with. I could hear him groaning behind me so I flicked the light off behind me, trying to silently root for any sharp object to keep him at bay.

“Where are you, you stupid bitch?” he growled into the darkness. I sunk against the counter, trying to keep out of sight as he searched for the light switch. Light poured around me as I pressed myself against the counter, listening for his footsteps to edge toward my location. I tried desperately to press the panic button Rick had implanted in my hand what felt like ages ago. I never stopped trying to use it even though I knew it was in vain. A small part of me hoped that he could repair his, that he would realize I needed his help but it all seemed so hopeless. Deep down I was sure he had taken my words to heart. He had given up on me.

“If you stop this stupid shit, I promise I’ll make it fucking quick.” His footsteps turned around the kitchen island I hid behind, breaking me from my feelings of hopelessness as I continued inching around the island, trying to get around it before he could find me.

“I never understood why they called you Nova, you know? You, a star? That’s fucking comical,” he taunted, trying to lure me out. “The most you are is a fucking black hole.”

My ankle spasmed under my weight as I turned the corner and my position was blown when I face-planted onto the floor. He chuckled darkly as he rounded the island, glaring down at me.

“The reason they call me Nova wasn’t because of fucking stars you idiot,” I hissed, pulling myself off the floor with the knife extended in front of me. “If you’d ever paid a fucking iota of attention you’d know it was from fucking Planet of the fucking Apes. There was a charact-”

“You really must be a fucking moron if you think I actually give a fuck.” He shook his head in disbelief before launching himself at me. The impact forced me back into the wall, my head coming in contact with the wall and everything going dark.

*+*

“I’ve spent way too long fantasizing about this.”

My eyes blinked, quickly adjusting to the inky darkness of my bedroom. My back rested against the foot of my bed as Ryan stood over me, sneering as I returned to consciousness. I tried to stand, only earning another backhand for my insolence. The small chair from my vanity became the next subject of his rage as he picked it up and broke one of the legs off. He inspected the sharpest end before turning to face me again.

“My parents told me women with bad childhoods were guaranteed whores, but you always seemed so fucking genuine. Somehow, my stupid ass fell in love with you and God only knows why I went and had a baby with you.”

“You’ve never loved anything in your life,” I hissed weakly.

“You’re probably right, it always kind of seemed like a waste of my fucking time,” he nodded, “but there I was, getting married to a girl with every red flag my parents warned me about. Mommy didn’t love you? Check. Daddy maybe loved you too much? Check. Abandoned by most of the adults she came in contact with? Fucking home run.”

“You’re fucking wrong.”

“Oh come the fuck off of it (Y/N),” he glowered, “The only reason I wanted you was because I already knew you could be beaten into submission if that’s what it took. You’d spent your entire life that way, you wouldn’t even know the fucking difference.”

“Fuck you.”

“I could make time for that if you wanted.” He offered darkly, his eyes glittering with malice before rolling at my cowered form. “It wouldn’t be worth it, you’d only be thinking of Colonel Blimp next door.”

“What are you going to tell Madison?” I asked desperate to change the subject. “How are you going to explain to her that you killed her mother? She’s not going to just forgive you. She's smarter than you've ever given her credit for.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that stupid brat,” he scoffed with another roll of his eyes. “She’s too fucking much like you.”

I couldn’t muster a reply. My blood ran cold as my heart raced with fury. He watched my face, seeming to relish in the fear of my revelation. He truly did not want me to have anything. My daughter, my friends, they were all allowed purely because they could be taken away.

“Why me?” I uttered finally, tears brimming in my eyes as I watched him twirl the broken chair leg around in his hand.

“You were pathetic. I took you home and fucked you on the first date.” He shrugged smugly. “I knew your kind, I knew the words that it would take to get what I wanted from you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a calming breath before pushing myself off of the floor to look at the man who had made my life a living hell in the eyes. I groaned as I put pressure on my ankle only to stumble back onto the bed. Ryan laughed at the sight, his chuckling continuing as I awkwardly pushed myself back up, swaying as I stared up at him.

“Like I said, you abusive piece of shit, you don’t fucking know me at all.”

My words set him off and he pushed me back into the bed, my head ricocheting off the headboard with a loud yelp. I stood back up, my head spinning from the impact as I tried to catch my balance again. Being disoriented made it easy for Ryan to overpower me again, forcing me back onto the floor and holding the chair leg to my stomach.

“When are you going to fucking learn (Y/N)? You’re fucking nothing,” he declared smugly, pushing the improvised weapon into my stomach. I cried out as it broke my skin, pain searing out from the wound through my entire body. My body screamed at me to fight against him but with every minuscule movement, he drove the spike in deeper.

“Rick-” I cried out weakly, my voice raw with pain.

“He won’t save you, (Y/N). Why would he want to? He left you once before and it seems it was easy for him to do it again. Where is your savior (Y/N)? Why isn't he here to save you if he loved you so much?”

A light appeared under the doorway, calling my attention to it quickly. The door burst open quickly, relief coursing through my body. Ryan was wrong. He had come to save me.

“M-Mom?” Madi stepped in nervously, stepping in the pool of blood that had formed next to me. “D-Dad, what are you doing? Stop hurting her!”

“You should’ve stayed in bed Madison,” Ryan hissed, driving the spike into my gut completely, leaving me to scream out in pain.

I clawed desperately at the wood now buried in my gut as Ryan chased Madi out of the room, trailing my blood behind him. He returned mere seconds later, a crazed look forming over his face as he lumbered back over to me, picking me up by the straps of my tank top. He drew back, bringing his fist down to crash into my cheek repeatedly. I wanted to fight back, to do anything to stop his assault but my arms only hung loosely by my sides as broken English began pouring out of his mouth. The ringing in my ears prevented me from understanding a word he was saying and my eyes were swelling shut so when he abruptly stopped, I simply assumed I was dead.

“Nova!” A  gruff voice cut desperately through the ringing and I swore I saw the blue hair that reminded me of home as I finally allowed myself to slip into darkness.

*+*

That man sure has an oddly shaped head.

“She’s going to need to be put under, we have to open this wound further to get the shards of wood out.”

I wonder if his brain is the same shape as his head, he must be really smart.

“Sh-She was attacked, I-I think she was stabbed with a wooden spike.”

He sounds like Rick. I miss him so much, where is he? Where is Rick? He said he would save me.

“Sir, I promise you, we will help her. You just have to allow us the space to do so.”

“H-Her name is Nova. P-Please, don’t let anything happen to her. I can’t- I can’t lose her.”

Rick?

*+*

The world around me was dense, lush forest surrounded us as Rick and I sat hand in hand as we watched the waterfall in the distance cascade into the small river beneath it. I dared to glance over to him, receiving a playful smile as he averted his gaze. I giggled, turning my own gaze away, I peeked over again only to find Ryan in his stead, leering down at me viciously. My blood ran cold as I saw Rick’s mangled body beside him, contorted into an unnatural form as he stretched his arm out to me desperately before Ryan finished him off. With one last crushing blow from his boot, Ryan extinguished any form of life in Rick’s eyes, something he assured me of by bringing the optical gore mere inches away from my face. I cringed, looking down to avoid the view only to find the chair leg wedged into my gut once more. I looked up again desperately, only to find myself completely alone save for the gurgling corpse a couple of feet away.

“He’ll never be able to protect you from me (Y/N). You can run as far away as you want but I will always find you.”

“Nova? Is that your name?” a gentle voice asked. I blinked as I awoke, wincing from the blaring light filling the room. I slammed my eyes shut again as the voice asked his question again and the bed lowered next to me as he sat down.

“N-Nova,” I rasped, trying to nod in confirmation. My neck was stiff, making any movement impossible. “Wh-Where am I?”

“You’re in an alien hospital. Well, it’s alien to you, to me it’s just a hospital,” he informed me genially. I tried to open my eyes again, squinting to find the same oddly shaped head I’d seen in my dream.

“H-How’d I get here?”

“Your family brought you in. You had a deep wound to your torso.” My eyes widened as I brought my hands to my stomach, surprised to find none of the pain it provided previously. Instead, a low ache reverberated throughout, far more manageable than the searing pain from before.

“Wh-What happened to me? My husband- Ryan, he-he…” I fumbled my words, tears stinging my eyes at the memory.

“We were able to repair the damage done by the wooden spear he lodged into you,” the doctor informed me, “You’ll be back to normal in no time my dear, just have to wait for the stitches to heal away. They’re medicated with a serum that hastens the healing process. It should only take about a week until you’re back to normal, physically speaking.”

“M-My family, where is my daughter?” I asked tearfully, taking time to survey the room, expecting them to pop out at any moment.

“She’s out in the waiting room with the rest of your family and when you’re ready, we can send them back. We should also be able to discharge you soon, as long as you’re feeling up to it.” I nodded eagerly, sitting up a little to be more presentable. He smiled wisely, saying nothing more as he left the room presumably to go find my family. I continued straightening myself up, taking a moment to peek under the hospital gown to get a look at the long scar now gracing my body.

“Mom!” Madison cried out as she entered the room, rushing to my side a tearful mess. I held her tightly, patting her back soothingly as she wept and muttered apologies into my hair, “Mom, I’m sorry. I should’ve done something sooner, I should’ve tried to stop him, I was just so scared. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, there’s nothing you could’ve done. You did the right thing, getting out of there and going to Beth’s. I’m so proud of you.” I left a watery kiss on her hairline, as Beth finished talking to the doctor, turning to survey me.

“Nova, how are you feeling? What happened?” she asked urgently, finally tearing her gaze away from the pulp I called a face.

“Jeez Mom, calm the hell down,” Summer chastised her before I could answer. She met my gaze with a watery one of her own, “Aunt Nova, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Madison left my side briefly, allowing her surrogate sister to hug me tightly. As Summer pulled away wiping away her tears, my eyes fell to Beth again, decidedly ignoring the lanky man who’d been watching me intently with a look of painful regret.

“I’m okay you guys,” I assured Beth, “The man with the oddly shaped head said I’ll be able to leave whenever I’m ready.” She forced herself into my arms, sobbing into my shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you, Nova,” she sobbed. I rubbed her back as I’d done for Madi before she abruptly pulled away, wiping away her tears roughly. “He’s gone, Nova, he’s dead.”

My eyes flicked to Rick quickly, trying to fight the horrified rage boiling into my gut. Ryan was dead and Rick had been the one to kill him. Exactly what I hadn’t wanted to happen. I couldn’t be completely enraged, but it was easier and more justifiable to just be angry. How was I going to explain this to the police? I was going to lose Rick for sure now, and despite the feeling of relief welling in my gut, an inexplicable heartbreak was squashing it down at the thought of losing him when I finally became free to have him. If even he still wanted me.

“What happened?” I asked quietly, finally meeting Rick’s sorrowful gaze.

“His heart gave out. I didn’t even have to lay a finger on him, it was pretty anticlimactic really,” he explained with a careless shrug. Just the sound of his voice was making my heart race and a part of me wanted to climb out of the bed and fling myself into his arms but I hardened myself to him, turning to Madi instead.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart,” I offered to her softly. She would never know the cruel things her father said about her, she knew he was a monster, but she could at least live under the illusion of his unending love for her.

“I’m glad he’s dead Mom,” she told me sharply, standing up from the bed.

“Y-You don’t mean that sweetheart.” I insisted. I didn’t want this for her, I didn’t want her to go through the same pain I went through. I pulled the blanket off of my lap, relishing in the cool air the swirl around my legs.

“I do mean that. Dad was a monster a-and after what he did to you? He deserved to die,” she assured me coldly. I didn't have it in me to convince her otherwise and I slumped back onto the bed in defeat.

“N-Nova, sweetie, what happened?” Beth asked cautiously, her eyes flitting to Summer’s quickly to stave off another interruption.

“I-I don’t want to talk about it, not here.” I brushed her off, standing up from the bed, a ghost of a pain shooting through my ankle. I was grateful it hadn’t lingered, seemingly repaired along with my other egregious injuries. I moved to the chair next to the bed where I found a bag containing my clothes.

“When we get home, I promise I’ll explain.”

Beth conceded, ushering the kids out of the room so I could change. I dug through the bag, dismayed to find only the blood-soaked clothes I been wearing when I got here. Rick stayed behind, still watching me awkwardly as I pulled the stained sweats out of the bag.

“D-Do you need some help?” he offered timidly as the door shut with a click. I shook my head quickly, stubbornly pulling the sweats on under the gown. “Y-You don’t have to wear those, I can get you something else.”

“No Rick, don’t worry about it,” I hissed, pulling the sweats up over my hips before grabbing my shirt.

“Come on Nova, let me get you something else, let me help you-”

I took a deep breath, trying to stop the anger and terror I had been living with for the past few months from boiling to the surface. I didn't want to snap, I knew I had hurt him but as my gaze found Rick, despite the look of sorrow that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, the sight of him only made me angrier. All of that talk of protecting me and he still fucking left me high and dry. Again.

“Oh, now you want to fucking help?”

He grabbed the shirt out of my hands, solidifying my anger as I spun around, looking up at him with all the hate I could muster. Every feeling of hopelessness and terror coursed through me as I looked into the eyes of the man who claimed he wouldn’t leave me, not again. Not unless I asked.

“Y-Yes?” he sputtered, looking confused at the sudden turn of my mood.

“That’s pretty fucking funny, could’ve used it a lot fucking sooner.” I yanked the shirt back out of his hands, pulling it over my head.

“N-Nova, you told me to leave you alone. You told me you didn’t want me anymore. I didn’t know what to do, B-Beth thought you were waiting for Madi to come home-”

“N-No!” I bellowed back at him, “I mean a fucking hours ago when my husband almost fucking killed me.”

“Wh-What? I was there as soon as I could be- as soon as I heard anything,” he insisted, running his hands through his hair.

“The moment we walked in the door, it was over. He was out for my fucking blood.”

“I-I didn’t hear anything Nova, I’m sorry,” he apologized. Seeing him look completely defeated, my rage softened. Rick was someone who was always five steps ahead. Seeing him like this, looking so lost, broke my heart. “You didn’t use your panic button- I was going to get you out of there tonight, I-I didn’t know.”

“I did use my fucking panic button,” I assured him venomously. Just as soon as my heart softened to him, the mention of that useless fucking piece of technology enraged me all over again. “But I guess it doesn’t fucking work when the body housing its receiver is floating through the fucking vacuum of space.”

I watched as the blood drained out his face at the realization and I couldn't help but feel justified by his reaction. I had come to terms with it, knowing he hadn’t even thought of it since we hadn’t even used it since I moved in with Beth. I couldn’t blame him, not entirely. It hadn’t crossed my mind either and when I left, it had been so abrupt- there had been no time.

“I didn’t- I didn’t even think about that,” he confessed, despondent, “I just thought- I mean I heard you guys fighting but I thought if he was hurting you-”

“I used that fucking panic button every fucking night.”

“I’m sorry, Nova, I’m so fucking sorry. I let you down,” he murmured sadly, staring at the floor.

“I thought you gave up on me. I know what I said to you was cruel but I thought you would be smart enough to see right through it. Guess you let your ego get in the way.” My voice was distant, unable to sustain my anger anymore. I didn’t want to be upset with him, I lived, I was going to be okay, at least physically.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he cried. The sound of his wavering voice crumbled my resolve, allowing me to finally move closer to him, prepared to offer him some comfort, “I never gave up on you. I just-I thought you had a plan, that you were just waiting for Madison- I just let myself believe what you said so I wouldn’t beat down the door and put her at risk.”

“I was waiting for Madi. You were at least right about that,” I relented, pulling the torn and bloodied shirt off with the gown underneath. I watched as his eyes found the scar that now distorted my torso. “I can’t wear this shit, can you find me something else?” I offered, extending a metaphorical olive branch.

“Of course.”

He opened up a portal stepping through it and re-emerging with fresh clothes, including undergarments and my running shoes.

“Did you just go into my house?” I asked, almost horrified at the clothes presented to me.

“I mean, I don’t know your sizes, I just figured-”

“These are fine, thank you, Rick,” I interrupted him, pulling off my sweats, tossing them and the tank top into the trash. It was somehow strange to be standing here, completely naked in front of him but I didn’t shy away, didn’t take any extra care to hide my dignity. He wasn’t leering down at me like I was a piece of meat, he just wore a look of concern carried in his furrowed brow.

“Beth knows,” Rick told me softly as I finished tying my shoes. I froze a moment, looking up at him in horror at the implication.

“Sh-She knows…?”

“About us,” he confirmed with a curt nod.

“H-How did she- Oh she must be furious,” I rambled, running my hands through my hair as I started pacing.

“She’s not mad,” Rick assured me, grabbing my shoulders to stop me in my tracks, “She thinks it's… strange but she said it kind of made… sense?”

“Sh-She did?”

He nodded quickly, pulling me into his embrace. I melted into him completely, finally able to allow myself to release the stress on my shoulders. There was so much. Burying Ryan, dealing with the police, the house but right now in Rick’s arms, that all fell along the wayside.

*+*

It didn't take long for my entire world to fall apart. The moment I stepped through that portal, it seemed the entire world felt wrong. Gone was the comforting, if not brazen lights of the hospital. I spent my first week back dealing with the police answering every single one of their difficult questions.

“Where did the blood come from?”

“What happened that night, is it possible you did something to set him off?”

“Your injuries have never been reported and you have no visible wounds, we have no history of abuse in this household.”

Rick had offered to just make Ryan’s body disappear but I knew there would be people who would be looking for him, his parents, his coworkers. This path, however, resulted in me spending a night in jail. It didn't last long though, Rick stormed in demanding I be set free within the first hour I was there. When he was met with opposition, he merely nodded and asked to speak to the chief of police to straighten things out. He would never fully explain what he said to the man but when he emerged from the now docile police chief's office, I was released and free of all charges. My house was still a crime scene but I had no interest in going home. Beth eagerly welcomed me back into her home instead, clearing out Jerry’s office completely to put a bed in, allowing me some form of sanctuary. She even snuck over to my house and grabbed my living room TV to mount on the wall for added comfort.

This didn’t stop the frequent nightmares, however. Most nights I would wake up screaming, and depending who woke up first either Rick or Beth would appear to soothe me. Despite this, Rick and I hadn’t returned to our previous level of comfort with one another and I desperately missed it. The little kisses snuck in whenever there had been an opportunity, him playing with my hair while we watched TV… I missed it all. I missed it and yet I couldn't quite bring myself to broach the topic.

“Nova,” Beth called, knocking on my door softly one afternoon, about a week after I’d been released from custody. I knew why she was here already, she wanted to talk about Rick, about what happened before and after Ryan’s death. All the things I desperately wanted to avoid. I had given her cliff notes of that night and she seemed to be satisfied. Now she was just interested in understanding my relationship with her father.

“Come in,” I sighed wearily, gearing up for the conversation I had been dreading. I focused my attention on my TV, desperately trying to seem invested in whatever adult cartoon was playing to put it off even another minute longer.

“Nova, I wanted to talk to you,” Beth started, her eyes flicking up to the TV. I sighed again, muting it as I turned to her. “I just wanted to talk about you and… Dad.”

“I figured as much,” I conceded, cringing at her. “What, within reason, do you wanna know?”

“Well, how did this start?” She asked timidly, not quite able to meet my eyes.

“When he came back,’ I assured her, resting my hand on hers.

“I-I know that. I meant, when after he came back?” she pressed gently.

And so I launched into our sordid story. Starting with the dampener and only editing some of the details like the encounter with Unity and the first time we’d slept together, mostly just to save her the trauma. I told her about the Council of Ricks and how Ricks and Novas were a common occurrence in most of the dimensions. He and I were just two people that fit together like puzzle pieces. She stayed silent as I spoke but I took care to note that she wasn’t angry, she wasn’t upset, if anything, she almost looked satisfied.

“Ryan caught us i-in the garage. We had been… m-making out and he had walked over, looking for me. That’s when he dragged me out. That’s the end of our story,” I concluded, unsuccessfully fighting the mournful tone from creeping into my voice.

“Why do you say it’s the end?” Beth asked, her brow furrowing the same as her father's would when logic seemed to run out.

“I hurt him and he hurt me.” I shrugged. “And for once, his part was actually accidental whereas I broke his heart to save my daughter.”

“As bizarre as this feels to tell you, I think you need to give my dad a little more credit,” Beth chuckled softly. I cocked my brow at her and she elaborated, “I just mean- I talked to him the night Ryan died, about you. About what this thing is between you two. I think you need to talk to him, sort this stuff out and see if you can’t move past your pain.”

“If Rick had anything he wanted to say to me, he would’ve already. He’s not exactly a beat around the bush kind of guy,” I told her flatly, returning my gaze to the TV.

“Dad also doesn’t do emotions,” Beth reminded me gently, “When you’re ready, just try talking to him, okay?”

I nodded softly, as Beth stood up and thanked me before leaving the room. I stared into the TV as I considered her words, finding them to be the most obvious path but I couldn’t will myself off of the bed to go confront my issues. I’d had enough of confronting issues in the past two weeks to last me a lifetime and I just wasn’t eager to run off and go fight some more. I rolled over, tucking my blanket under my chin as I curled up into a ball and the haze of exhaustion flooded over me immediately. The dulcet sound of the TV lulled me to sleep and I didn’t even bother trying to fight it.

+Down With The Rickness - Ch1: Such Small Hands+

[dear-indies]

Eight Legged Freaks (2002) Quotes! - trigger warnings: spiders, guns, and nsfw mentions

Inspired by @syfyhq​​!

“I will be self-assured and confident around women.”

“ I will not fear the unexpected.”

“They’ve been like this all week.”

“Must be something extra tasty in the water.”

“The sun is going down, my nocturnal hunters.”

“It’s time to come out and feed.”

“I’ve calculated a growth factor of twelve percent over the last forty-eight hours.”

“All from eating these bugs? Maybe I should try some.”

“Run, little guys.”

“They can’t outrun the food chain.”

“Imagine yourself the size of that fly. A scytodes spitter would be as big as a Cadillac.”

“You’d be spider chow, kid.”

“Are the new tarantulas in here?”

“That is too cool.”

“Male tarantulas compete for the female’s attention.”

“Each one tries to bring her the best present.”

“The prey is cocooned alive so she can eat them in her nest.”

“You know how women love breakfast in bed.”

“Take a look, the female of the species is three times as big as the male.”

“She fills her prey with digestive acid to liquify the internal organs.”

“Now watch... She’ll drink her victim from the inside out. While it’s still alive!”

“And you wonder why my mom doesn’t like me hanging out with you.”

“Arachnids have been roaming the earth for millions of years.”

“And they’ll be here long after the human race is dead and buried.”

“Do that again and I feed you to the parrot.”

“Hope you like bologna!”

“The spitters fire poisonous snot.”

“The tarantulas mummify their prey.”

“NASA uses spider webs in outer space. And for medicine.”

“Better late than never.”

“Hang on, babydoll!”

“Party’s over, gentlemen. Off the bikes.”

“There is something very sexy about an older woman in uniform.”

“Her nine-millimeter gives me a stiffy.”

“You just bought yourself a reckless.”

“Can’t you give ’em a break?”

“No sweat, babydoll.”

“Relax, bee-otch. It’s all good.Do you get off on humiliating me?”

“This bad girl act doesn’t suit you.”

“You are so over protective.”

“You need to start trusting me.”

“I thought you wanted to get out of town.”

“As I was saying, Chemical Technologies has been looking for viable storage sites.I think most of us are insulted that some outsiders thinkzour town is a perfect place to dump toxic waste.”

“Isn’t this just your latest getrich quick scheme?”

“Your mall has more employees than customers.”

“With one phone call I could put together a deal that would make us all very rich.”

“Let people know the aliens walk among us.”

“I don’t think it’s fair for one person to wield that much power.”

“I want him locked up!”

“I didn’t give them permission to go into the mines.”

“I asked you a question, you greedy son of a bitch!”

“I’m trying to keep the peace.”

“Where did you learn that it’s okay to talk to me like this?”

“He’s hot for an old guy.”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“Oh something’s broken? What else is new?”

“You need to pay these by the end of the month.I’m glad you like my bologna sandwiches.”

“And maybe you didn’t know him so well after all.Stop screwing around...!Work it, babe.

“I’m just going to the mall.”

“I can’t finish if you keep interrupting!”

“The bug spray is on aisle five!”

“You want mousetraps!? Is that it?! Aisle five!”

“That’ll be three fifty-two.”

“I had spiders at my house too.”

“We need an exterminator not a sheriff.”

“Everyone’s having pest problems!”

“I’ve found more tracks. Even larger now.”

“That was a trapdoor spider’s burrow.”

“What if they didn’t stop growing?”

“What if they broke out of their tanks.”

“That could be why the other species are coming out into the open.”

“They’re trying to get away from the giant spiders.”

“The ecosystem is out of balance.”

“When I medal at the X-Games, Honda will give me full sponsorship.”

“I thought you loved me.You don’t have to play the good girl.”

“I told you to back off!Please! Open the door! I’m sorry!”

“Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“Get out of here! They’re coming!”

“The phones went down for some reason.”

“I wanted to surprise you with a special dinner.”

“Have you noticed anything strange in the mines?”

“Were they running away from something?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Spiders shed their skins when they grow.”

“This is a tarantula’s leg.”

“It’s an exoskeleton, to be scientific.”

“See! Male tarantulas wrap their prey in webbing.”

“Those are quills! Tarantulas can flick them at you like darts!”

“Giant tarantulas?”

“If there were giant spiders roaming the desert, don’t you think somebody would’ve seen them by now?”

“The jumpers hunt in daylight. But not the others. They only come out when the sun goes down!”

“Remind me never to let you do my laundry.”

“I’m doing spider research!”

“Wow! A scytodes spitter!”

“The scytodes spits a gooey discharge to immobilize their prey.”

“Watch its fangs!”

“The spitter’s fangs move from side to side as it fires!”

“There aren’t enough wine coolers in the world to calm me down!

“Spitters, jumpers, orb weavers, tarantulas...”

“We need to make an emergency broadcast.”

“Giant spider invasion.”

“A pack of rabid coyotes is loose in town.”

“Arm yourselves with any weapons you can find.”

“Stay together and head for the mall.”

“Trapdoors! They’re all around us!”

“Be cool, little dude.”

“They’re locked.”

“You pump the slide to jack in a fresh round. Point at your target and squeeze.”

“They can’t handle the sunlight. They were waiting in the mines for the sun to go down!”

“They’re growing very fast.”

“They need food to sustain that kind of development.”

“Hey, loverboy... you’ve got a town to save.”

“I didn’t know you wore cologne.”

“It’s spider repellent.”

“This always looks so easy on TV!We’re being attacked by giant spiders!”

“The entire town has been overrun!”

“Defend the human race!”

“They’re trapping us like ants in a log! Once they have all the exits blocked, they’ll come in through the last one!They’re going to kill us, you stoner!”

“We should be able to hold them off for a little while.”

“Don’t waste your bullets.”

“I thought you were a goner, boy!”

“We’re trapped again!”

“Toxic waste.”

“Ewww... what’s that smell?They don’t have hair. They aren’t fully grown tarantulas.”

“This is our chance to kill them all.”

“When the power comes on, the bulb will ignite the methane and torch them!”

“I need to set the fuse as close to the spiders as I can.”

“I hate spiders.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

[spellbounding-slytherin]

So, talking about my Novels a bit more....

Hey there its Vira!

Thought I would talk about my novels a bit more, just so you guys know what you all would be getting into.

So, lets talk about Novel 1.

The Rings of Gallilea: Sworn to Rebirth

(Aka: TROG/ TROGSTR)

So here are the main plot points of the novel:

It is the sacred duty of the Celestial Trinity (the Sun, Moon and Earth) to protect the life in their solar system from outside alien threats

An imperial speciest race known as the Cantillians dub Humans inferior to them, thus sparking a war between them the Celestial Trinity.

The nine planets ally themselves with the Celestial Trinity to protect themselves from a God-destroying weapon created by the Cantillians known as the Catalyst.

The Rings of Gallilea are formed in an attempt to protect the solar system.

The goddess of the moon utilizes their influence on humanity to create a re-birthing curse. As long as humanity shares legends of the gods they will not die.

During a battle with the Cantillian emperor (known as the Serpent) Earth is hit by the Catalyst, destroying his physical form.

One-by one the Rings of Gallilea and the Celestial Trinity fall.

Eventually it is only Mercury The god of knowledge, Moon, the goddess of magic and Pluto rhw God of Alchemy left

In order to save humanity, Moon forces Mercury to give her an "unforgettable" curse so she will retain her memories as a goddess.

Moon uses what is left of her magical power to trap the Cantillian emperor in a diffrent dimension, before she is killed.

Moon falls to earth taking on the form of a human infant.

She is found by the son of a former cult leader and raised moon aware of her godly identity.

Out of gratitude, moon grants her new father figure the "Power of The North Star" and shares a magical bond with him

Their mission now, is to locate the fallen Gods and prepare them for the fight against the looming Cantillian threat.

In summary:

The Rings of Gallilea is a magical Sifi adventure, with sub themes of romance, and drama. The message of The Rings of Gallilea is self-sacrifice, defying fate, humility and mercy along with second chances.

Lets meet our cast!

Luna Abyss- our female lead, Luna is the Goddess of the moon and Magic. Before what Luna refers to as "The Fall" she was regal, elegant and refined. Growing up on earth with her drunkard guardian Victor, and running from government officials who seem to pick up on Luna's signals wherever she goes changed her quite a bit. Luna uses her twin blades Artemis and Frigga to fight off the Cantillian forces sent by recon forces. Luna likes dancing to loud music at ungodly hours, getting fast food at midnight, dogs, and exploring places she probably shouldn't.

Terra Greenwood- Our male lead, Terra is the God of Earth, Nature and humanity. Terra grew up with his Grandma after his dad walked out on his drug-addicted mother. Terra is a member of the Apache Indians, and lives on a reservation in Greenville New Mexico. Terra, despite struggling with depression and minor anger issues, dreams of living a normal life. Getting a good education, a well paying job, taking his grandma and moving far away from Greenville....that Is until Luna shows up. Terra fights with his magic spear Gia, and can command Earth and Nature on a whim. While his abilities are still weak, with some training there is no doubt that Terra can return to his former Glory. Terra enjoys driving his old pickup truck down town, while listening to the hard rock radio station, helping his grandma take care of her garden, and hanging out with his best friends Mitchel and John.

Stella Brighton- our rich mean girl archetype. Stella is the goddess of the Sun. Stella grew up in her mother's mansion sheltered away from the middle and lower class, until one day she forms an unlikely friendship with Terra. An Unlikely friendship turns into an unlikely crush and an unlikely romance. That is until Stella's hopes and dreams are crushed when she discovers her mother and Stepfather have planned an arranged marriage for her. Stella breaks off her relationship with Terra and keeps her head held-high. Stella fights with her fiery bow, Apollo, and can spark a wildfire wherever she pleases. Stella enjoys shopping, traveling, taking selfies, and flaunting her status as Student Council President.

Mitchel James- the Nerd boy archetype, Mitchel is the God of Mercury, Knowledge and Communication (arguably revenge as well) As a young lad, Mitchel idolized his dad, who was in the military. Oftentimes it would be him and his mom while his dad was on deployment. Mitchel took a liking to computer science and technology, because thanks to that he was able to keep in touch with his dad even when he was far away. When Mitchel was 8 years old his dad died in active duty, and it wasn’t long until his mom took to a Sugar Baby lifestyle to try and provide for Mitchel without having to get a job. Mitchel is bullied at school for being the scrawny nerd boy, and takes revenge on his bullies by hacking into their computers and leaking their search history. After Luna rolls into town Mitchel's world is flipped upside down. Suddenly he isn’t armed with just brain-power but physical power. Mitchel fights in a way that is unique to the Rings of Gallilea. Mitchel can create Angels to fight as champions for him. He also uses a Chackram named Athena. Mitchel enjoys hacking into local security cameras to see whats up around town, exploring the dark web, arguing with radical political activists on-line.

John Kingsman- The play-boy Archetype, John is the God of Jupiter Kings, and lightning. John lives what is arguably the best life of anyone in the rings. His parents breed police dogs. Meaning his house is always full of puppies. John's dad is a former military officer, and both him and his mom are current police force members. John is the baby in his family, but is held to high standards. Be home before 7, get good grades, and take care of the dogs. John fights with his Claymore Sword, Odin, along with special abilities like lighting and psychological manipulation. John, obviously enjoys taking the dogs for walks, playing basketball, and going to the shooting range with his mom.

Hotaru Kawaguchi- The goth archetype, and Goddess of Saturn, Time and Death. Hotaru's parents immigrated to the United States after the death of Hotaru's older brother, Hikaru. They came here to give the intellectually gifted Hotaru better opportunities as she grew older. To help support her, the family opened a restaurant in the down town area that quickly became one of the most popular spots in town. Hotaru never really got over Hikaru's death, and took comfort in the macabre. Over summer, Hotaru picks up a second job to earn enough money to afford her dream car, working in an occult shop. She also finds herself involved in an unlikely summer romance. Aside from being able to freeze time and communicate with the dead, Hotaru fights with her staff, Hades, that can transform into a scythe. Hotaru loves books and quite sunny spaces, she likes painting, meditation, watching Elvira specials, and helping her mother and father learn better English.

Aries Vailakis- the Jock archetype, God of Mars and war. Just like Stella he too grew up with rich parents. His family comes a from proud Greek heritage, and own a chain of Mediterranean style restaurants. Aries is a star member of the football team, and is expected to take over the family business when he gets out of college. Most people think there isn't much to Aries other than food and football, sometimes Aries thinks that too. But being a competitive teenage god, can lead to some intense shenanigans. Especially when family, love and blackmail are involved. Aries fights with some seriously thick brass knuckles that spit fire. His brass knuckles can also transform into a large shield, Neiro. Aries likes cooking, working out, watching horror movies with his S/O, and very secretly likes looking at minimalist homes in the Greek countryside in homeowner's magazines.

June Smith, the flip Archetype, Goddess of Venus beauty, seduction and battle. June's mom divorced her dad to be with another man when she was young. Years later June would find out she died of cancer without telling her or her father. Needless to say June had a rough start in life. Given that her dad was the high school principal, she couldn't even act out and punch some nerd in the face. In the day light June masquerades as the nerdy turtleneck loving teacher's pet kinda girl. At night June flips ditching her turtle neck for something low cut and preferably leather. Sneaking out under the ruse of sleep or studying, June slips out to hang out on the edge of town with the local biker gang known as the Black Cat Bikers. Junes got the best of both worlds, her dad wrapped around her finger, and her legs wrapped around the back of her boys bikes. June fights with the sword Atalanta, and can change into any weapon June sees fit. June can also manipulate peoples hormones, making them fall for her or anyone. June will never admit it, but she likes wearing pink fluffy sweaters, she also loves getting fucking drunk, going out to see drag shows, sleeping in until noon, and playing with makeup.

Serena Paisley- The hippy archetype- Serena is the Goddess of Neptune, the ocean and family. Serena is the younger twin sister of Heath. Serena grew up close to her mother, who was somewhat of helicopter parent. Serena’s mother owns a brewing company, and is heavily involved in the Greenvile political scene. growing up in a spotlight Serena wanted to use her spotlight to encourage others to do good, and can often be found doing charity work. One big secret Serena has, is that she is a big fan of smoking weed. being a politicians daughter was a stressful job after all. Serena, can command any body of water and has great people skills. Her very loyal weapon is her trident, Namaka. Serena’s hobbies include Yoga, smoking weed, collecting crystals, playing the pan-flute, and thrift store shopping. 

Heath Paisley- The rich boy archetype- Heath is the God of Uranus, Ice, Snow and Vengeance. Heath, is the polar opposite of his sister. He grew up chasing the affections of his long-distance father, who is an actor in Hollywood. Heath has a cold demeanor, and takes a some-what sadistic pleasure in controlling others. He is the student council president at the private school he and Serena attend, Hayden Heights Academy. Heath is secretly insecure about his sexuality, and is in denial about being attracted to men. Heath spends a majority of his time covering for his sisters ‘distasteful shenanigans” in student council meetings, or following in the footsteps of his politician mother. Heath has the power to control Ice, and cold temperatures, he can also force criminals to admit their deeds.Heath fights with twin sickles Poli’Ahu and Endymion.His hobbies include: casual business luncheons, bossing his underclassmen around, and he secretly likes it when his S/O leans over his shoulder while he is trying to work. 

Romeo Barns- The rebel archetype- Romeo is the God of Pluto, Alchemy, and Transformation. Romeo has always felt like a social outcast, specifically because he discovered his godly powers at a young age. Romeo lives with his overly preachy preacher uncle, who believes in only one good god above. Romeo, being a sarcastic little shit, decides he needs to be everything his uncle isn't. Romeo sells weed for the Black Cat Biker Gang, his true "Family". Which is how a filthy little grunge rat like him became friends with Serena Paisley. Roemo's godly body grows organic blade-like structures which he can use to defend himself. His clawed-gauntlets, Thanatos and Cerberus add an extra punch. In his spare time Romeo can be seen around town riding his motorcycle. At night he is out spraying unique and vulgar messages on billboards. At school he likes to read the "boring unpopular books" like Catcher in The Rye and Lord of The Flies, and strumming along to his favorite songs on his base guitar

And thats just novel number 1! I'll make a second post about novel number 2 since this is already a quite lengthy post.

Let me know what you guys think, and if you wanna see more.

See ya later

- Vira!

[itsthesinbin]

A Reminder (Roadhog&OC&Junkrat)

Thank you, again, to Zephos for commissioning me! I love your oc and the plot you gave, so I was able to crank this out pretty fast!

Warning: This has some violence and blood, but nothing too graphic.

The oc in this fic is 15 years old, and this is purely platonic. If I catch anyone being nasty they’re gonna catch these hands.

This is a bad idea, Jenny thought. This is a REALLY bad idea. Roadhog and Junkrat- outcasts of Junkertown- guard their farm with as many traps and explosives as possible. But damn if Jenny wasn’t going to get some of the damn good scrap they like to hoard for themselves.

Greedy bastards, keeping all the good equipment and scraps to themselves… Let someone else have a chance at having good weapons, assholes!

Jenny stalked through the sparse, coarse grass that surrounded Roadhog’s old farmhouse. She’s sweating, can barely see as it gets darker, and nearly got her arms and legs caught in bear traps and explosives along the way. Good thing she knows how to disarm these simple traps.

The garage was so close… Whatever fuckin’ deity is up there, please look after her as she tries to creep in.

A slow series of beeps began as she set off a tripwire. She took a sharp inhale through her nose, scrambling away from whatever fucked up explosive Junkrat built to guard the garage. She screamed as a harsh rope clenched around her leg, yanking her up into the air. The explosive nearby beeped rapidly.

This was it. Her face was going to get blown off, and who knows what these two are going to do with her body.

She screamed as the crudely-made mine exploded into… a bunch of confetti. She got hit with pieces of metal, but was able to cover her face without it doing too much damage. She stared, dumbfounded, at the colorful strips of paper floating to the ground.

“Seems we caught another one, Roadie,” she heard, faintly, from inside the house. A man cackled, his footsteps uneven as he scurried out onto the porch. Someone even bigger stomped out after the squirrely man. She couldn’t look behind her, towards the porch, but she knew who they were. And she knew she was dead. She swallowed, thickly, as they walked over to her.

The two walked around, so they were in her sight. She looked up at their faces, seeing Junkrat’s grin, and Roadhog’s mask. Her eyes widened, and she took a few ragged breaths as the blood began running to her head.

“Tiny little thing,” Junkrat laughed, poking at her cheek with his peg leg. Jenny smacked the appendage away, nearly knocking the man over. “Feisty, too!”

“L-Look, I’m sorry- I’ll go I-I was just… I’m trying to find scrap-”. “So ya tried to steal ours,” Junkrat huffed, crossing his arms. Jenny swallowed again, trying to think of a way to defend herself. It’s so hard to think when the fear of death stabs at your heart, and the blood rushes to your head.

Roadhog’s hand moved, and his infamous hook dangled near her head. She stared at it, trying to ignore the awful feeling of her eyes watering and her tears pooling at the top of her eyes.

“Any last words, little pig?” Her mouth opened, but her brain wasn’t working right.

“Uh… what’s my meat gonna be used for- bacon or a pork roast?” Junkrat couldn’t help but snort at that one, a manic giggle escaping his mouth. Roadhog sighed. Hoping to appeal to Junkrat’s comedic side, she spoke again.

“Maybe instead of killing me, you can keep me around and I’ll hunt for Truffles?” Another laugh, another growl from Roadhog. Jenny let out a shaky grin.

“I may be a potbelly, but I got more fat on me than actual meat- you wouldn’t like it anyway”. Junkrat cackled as she patted her stomach.

“This one’s actually pretty funny, Hog! Not all the mess with the crying and the piss that we gotta clean outta the traps”. Oh, gross… Junkrat crouched down, sharp grin catching her attention.

“You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous tonight, kid. How about you stay here tonight- don’t need you screamin’ when some raider or something tries to come by in the night- and we’ll send you on your way tomorrow”. Not wanting to make him angry by turning the offer down, she nodded, not able to find her voice. Junkrat stood, nodding to Roadhog.

“Cut ‘er down, Hog”. Jenny screamed as she suddenly fell to the ground. She groaned, not wanting to move after the painful landing. Junkrat laughed, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. She almost fell over again, but the tight grip on her small arms kept her upright.

“So,” Junkrat started, wrapping an arm around her roughly and nearly dragging her inside. “What’cha comin’ here for, again? Scrap?” Jenny nodded slowly, trying to ignore the giant looming behind them.

“I, uh… need some good scrap and, uhm… equipment to make some… some thingamajigs for myself”. What the FUCK was the word she wanted to use? Junkrat let her go when they were inside, giving her a curious look.

“Thingamajigs?” “You know… big stabbies”. Junkrat snorted loudly, cackling and coughing a bit from the sudden laughter. Jenny felt her pale cheeks flush in embarrassment. Even the stoic guard behind them chuckled.

“BIG STABBIES! Ya mean knives, mate?” “YEAH those”. He snickered, walking to the small kitchen. He mumbled “big stabbies” to himself, before a whole new round of laughter poured out of him.

She slowly walked into the living room, looking around curiously. It was decorated eccentrically- showing that Junkrat had been squatting here for a while. Junkrat’s little logo was on many papers and broken pieces of inactive bombs. As well as a spare peg leg.

Some… weird costumes were hung on a coat rack nearby, but she really didn’t want to know what they were for. Canisters of some kinda… stuff were laying around, as well. Jenny avoided moving anything on the floor as she, slowly, sat on the old, nearly broken couch.

Roadhog moved over to a small station that’s clearly his- spare gas masks sat on the table, and extra lengths of chain hung on the sides of the bench that made up his sitting area.

Junkrat plopped a glass of semi-clean water on the table in front of her, almost knocking the rickety coffee table to the ground.

“About your big stabbies,” Junkrat started, ignoring the glare Jenny gave him. He grinned slightly, flopping on a dusty recliner that let off a plume of dirt and grime.

“You got a blueprint on you, kid?” “Why would I bring a blueprint with me from home? Work on the go?” “Don’t get snippy with me,” Junkrat snapped, leaning back into the chair. Jenny took a sip of the water, grimacing at the taste a bit. Warm, dirty water. Yum.

“Left my blueprints at home. I was hoping to pop in, grab some scrap, and hurry back home”. “What kinda knives you tryin’ to make?” Jenny grumbled a bit, trying to get her thoughts together to describe her project.

“They’re like… knuckle-knives. Brass knuckle grips with pretty long blades”. Junkrat looked at her, curiosity and excitement in his eyes. She shifted nervously, avoiding looking at him for now. She was still a little nervous about ending up dead.

“Sounds pretty good, if you like getting your hands REAL dirty,” he laughed- a sick sound that makes a shiver crawl up her back. Roadhog grunted from his spot.

“Leave her alone, Rat. You’re freaking her out”. “Ah, shut up, Hog- if she’s talkin’ about slicin’ people up, it ain’t gonna bother her if I make a few cracks about it”. Jenny chewed on the inside of her cheek, taking another swig of water to avoid the conversation. Junkrat, not picking up on obvious social cues, turned back to her.

“So, you got anyone in mind to use those on? If not, I have a couple’a ideas,” he laughed, manic giggling- and grin- returning. Roadhog let out a low rumble. Jenny couldn’t tell if he was laughing or growling in annoyance.

“N… no one in mind, no. These are mostly for, uh… self-defense. I just… thought the designs were cool,” Jenny replied, looking down at the table. Junkrat mumbled- she caught the word “boring”- before looking her up and down.

“You even old enough to hold that thing right?” She frowned, sneering at him a bit angrily.

“I’m not a baby- I’m fifteen”. She heard Roadhog stop for a second behind them, but didn’t turn to look at him. The behemoth slowly returned to whatever he was doing as Junkrat barked out a laugh.

“Fifteen?! How’re you walkin’ around Junkertown at night, trying to steal from US?! You’re young AND stupid!” Jenny was quiet. Yeah, she was kinda stupid tonight. Just… blinded by the idea that she COULD do this. She didn’t think about if she SHOULD’VE.

Right now, she REALLY wished she hadn’t. This man was making her uncomfortable, and she was still worried she’d get a limb blown off, or her gut ripped open by the giant hook quietly jangling behind her.

“Anyway,” she started, crossing her arms. “I think… I’d rather just try and get home”. She stood, heading towards the door. She heard Roadhog stand, and stomp after her, making her pause. He gripped her shoulder tightly, before opening the door a crack.

Screaming could be heard from near the entrance to the actual town, as well as a few gunshots. She didn’t even realize a whimper left her throat as Roadhog shut the door.

“You’re staying here,” he said simply. “Rat, leave her alone before I throw you out there to the dogs”. Junkrat feigned hurt, putting his metal hand to his chest in mock horror.

“I can’t believe YOU’D threaten ME, Roadie! After all we’ve been through together!” Roadhog grumbled, pushing Jenny back towards the couch. He went over to the wiry man, grabbing Junkrat by the back of his shirt. He all but dragged him to where his sleeping area was, making Junk whine and almost lose his footing multiple times. He was all but tossed onto the mattress.

Jenny watched as Junkrat grumbled and flopped onto his side. Roadhog sat down in Junkrat’s old spot, passing something to her across the table. Jenny looked down, seeing a barely-good apple.

“Not much- gotta get more food soon,” he huffed, leaning back into the worn recliner. She picked up the fruit, biting into it without much thought. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she swallowed that first bite.

Being scared for your life sure makes you hungry.

She avoided looking at him. Jenny didn’t even know if he was looking at HER, with that mask in the way.

“Your parents know you’re out here?” She paused, giving him a look that told him to drop the subject. Thankfully, he did. She’s sure Junkrat would’ve pressed the matter until she threw something at him. Even then, she doubts that would deter him.

“.... I’m actually gonna leave the building, alive, right?” The question didn’t surprise Roadhog. Junkrat was… finicky with who he did, or didn’t, like. Many people came in when he finds them funny, fewer came out after he decided they weren’t. Roadhog sighed, and nodded.

“Yeah. Rat may be an ass, but he doesn’t like hurting kids”. If he can avoid it, anyway. Some people have gotten caught in the middle of their heists- in the wrong places, at the wrong times. Jenny wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but she went back to eating anyway.

The silence was unsettling. The only sounds were her crunching on the apple, and the small riots going on outside. She forced down her current piece of apple, looking back up at the giant in front of her.

“Where… am I sleeping,” she finally asked. He let out a small hum, nodding to the couch she was sitting on. It was lumpy, half broken, and she knew she’d wake up with a sore neck and back. She knew better than to argue, though. Can’t be picky when these men wanted to kill her just a while ago.

He got up, going over to a box against the far wall. He pulled out a ragged blanket and an old pillow, tossing the items to her. The pillow hit her in the face, but she caught the blanket. Both smelled stale. Guess they don’t get guests often.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, tossing the apple in a nearby trash can. Roadhog nodded, before finally going back to his own sitting area. She wrung the blanket in her hands, bringing her feet up and tucking them under her.

There was no way she could sleep here. Maybe she could try and escape later- when they’re both asleep, and the thieves nearby finally go away? That’s her best bet… She doesn’t want to end up as another blown up arm on the yard for someone to find on their property.

She dropped the pillow against the arm of the couch, slowly laying down and covering herself with the blanket. She didn’t even know she drifted to sleep.

Roadhog looked over when he heard her quiet breathing. He stood, walking as carefully as he can towards the couch. He peeked over the back, seeing her sound asleep. He huffed out a quiet laugh. She was either stupid, falling asleep in a house where the men were ready to kill her, or just exhausted after fearing for her life. After hearing her talk about her future weapons, he can’t decide which one is more likely.

With her asleep, he took off his mask to breathe. Rubbing his face, he sat back down at his bench. This kid was a moron- everyone in town knew not to try and steal from Junkrat and Roadhog, let alone just go onto their property unannounced. And she came here to take some damn scrap you could find literally anywhere?

He chuckled. This kid had balls of steel. He could respect that, but there were much better ways to get what she needed.

He finally stood after another hour, heading over to his own bed. He dropped onto it, rolling over to face the wall. He wasn’t worried about this kid trying to attack either of them. They’re light sleepers.

She woke up about forty-five minutes after Roadhog fell asleep. She took in a sharp breath, slowly sitting up. The lights were out. Both of the men were asleep. Rubbing her eyes, she threw the blanket off of herself. Alright, they’re asleep. Everything’s quiet- everyone is quiet. She can make her way back to her tiny home in the town.

Man, she really should’ve just risked the junkyard.

She checked to make sure the door wasn’t trapped, then slowly opened the door. She slipped out, closing the door behind her. She stared out into the dark slums, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Okay… she’s about to go back to the town, at night, without a weapon, when people were recently being attacked and possibly murdered.

That’s safe, right? Sure it is!

She took a deep breath, puffing out her chest, and striding down the actual path off of the trapped property. She made sure to keep a good eye out for any stray traps or mines that could be littering the path.

So far, so good. At least, until the door behind her slammed open.

“OI,” Junkrat screeched. “WHERE YA GOIN’, YA IDIOT?” She screamed, booking it down the path and out into the streets of the slums. Roadhog slapped Junkrat on the back of the head.

“Come on,” he grunted. “Why bother, Hog? If she wants to get herself killed, that’s her problem- not ours”. Roadhog let out a growl, putting his mask on and grabbing his weapons.

“If you’re not going, I am”. “Alright, alright- let me grab me launcher”. “Hurry up”.

She didn’t even know if the men were chasing her- she didn’t bother to stop, or look behind her. Not that she would really be able to see them, anyway. She can barely see in front of her, let alone- and, down she goes. What did she run into?

“Well, look at what we found”. Ah. She found some motherfuckers. She tried to catch her breath, grunting as her arm was grabbed and she was yanked up. A woman grinned down at her, dirty black hair nearly covering her missing eye.

“I know you- the little scavver that hangs around the junkyard. What’re you doing in the slums, girlie?” Jenny stayed quiet, opting to try and struggle away from the grip on her arm. The woman in front of her grabbed her jaws, forcing her to look up.

“When I talk, you answer, got it?” “Fuck you”. A harsh slap sent Jenny’s head jerking to the side. The woman snarled.

“You don’t talk to me that way, shrimp-”. An explosion caught everyone’s attention. A hook suddenly caught the person holding Jenny captive. They screamed as they were dragged back, only to be silenced by a junk shot to the face. The woman stared, slack-jawed, at her companion’s bloody body. Roadhog snarled, swinging his chain at his side.

“I suggest you get outta here, before my friend here turns you into a pile’a mush,” Junkrat laughed, popping another grenade into the air. It soared over the woman’s head, landing just out of range of her. It scared her enough, though, and she hightailed in the other direction.

Roadhog threw his hook anyway, snatching it around her and dragging her back. She screamed as the barbs dug into her stomach. Roadhog grabbed her shirt, lifting her up.

“You even think about touching her, and I’m dragging you to the outskirts myself. Got it?” Knowing better than to call Roadhog on a bluff, the raider nodded. He pushed her to the ground, where she scrambled up and ran with her tail between her legs.

Too shaky to stand, Jenny sat on the ground. She trembled, watching her attacker run as fast as she can towards town. Roadhog put his chain on his belt, before going over to the girl.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed,” he growled out, moving to help her stand. Once she was on her feet, he let her go. That lasted for about five seconds, before she caught sight of the bloody mess nearby and, promptly, passed the fuck out.

Roadhog quickly caught her, grumbling a bit as he picked her up.

“.... Come on,” he finally said, walking back to the house. Junkrat followed, mumbling something about how he wishes he could’ve actually blown something up. The younger junker stared at the unconcious girl, then at his companion.

“When’d you get such a bleeding heart, Hog?” Roadhog was silent for the longest time. He let Junkrat open the door to the house, and he went to put the girl back on the couch. Roadhog stared for a moment, before letting out a tired sigh. He covered her up with the old blanket, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment.

“Brings back some memories, is all,” he said quietly, going over to his bed. Junkrat grunted, showing he heard, before dropping onto his mattress. Roadhog took his mask off again, looking over to make sure she was actually asleep this time. Her quiet breathing was overshadowed by Junkrat’s snoring and whining. Roadhog sighed, getting in the bed and laying down.

Hopefully everything will settle down, tomorrow morning.

No one woke up until after noon.

Roadhog was first up, as usual, but the stress from last night made him sleep in way longer than usual. He was making whatever tea they have left, when Jenny shot up from the couch. She patted herself down, as if expecting herself to be missing items- or limbs.

Roadhog walked over to her, setting down a glass of water and some toast and eggs on the table in front of her. She blinked tiredly, looking at the food, then at him. The events of last night finally came to her, as her eyes widened when she recognized his mask.

“... Thanks,” she said quietly, taking a sip of the water. At least it had ice this time. She slowly ate the toast, stomach growling after she took the first bite. He grunted in reply, nodding to her. He sat across from her with his tea and egg sandwich. He pulled off the mask, setting it down to eat.

Jenny looked at him, taking in his scarred face and thin beard. He had an underbite, and it sometimes looked like his bottom canines poked through his lips, giving the illusion to tusks. Fitting, for him.

“... Thank you for… saving me, last night,” Jenny finally said, after getting half way through the small meal. Roadhog nodded. Junkrat yawned loudly, getting up and putting his prosthetics on. He fully stood, heading to the bathroom.

“You make me breakfast, Hog?” “Yeah”. Junkrat grumbled out an acknowledgment, going to the toilet. Jenny stared after the half-naked Junkrat, cringing as he just begins to scratch his ass on the way to the bathroom. She turned back to Roadhog.

“How do you put up with him,” she snickered. He smiled slightly, a small huff-laugh escaping him. He shrugged slightly, taking another bite of his food.

“... I need to get home, soon”. Roadhog nodded, wiping the crumbs off of his hands and taking a swig of his tea. Once he swallowed it, he spoke.

“I’ll take you, soon. Need to get food, anyway,” he said. Jenny finished her own food, finishing off her water as well. She fiddled with the blanket across her lap.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “You’re probably busy- I don’t wanna send you to the other side of town for no reason”. He shook his head.

“Don’t wanna send you alone, with her still around”. Jenny kept quiet about that.

“... At least, once I get home, I can get my weapon and work on my damn knives,” she mumbled. Roadhog fixes his mask back into place when his tea was gone, getting up to take the dishes to their dirty sink.

“You can bring your equipment here. Use my scrap to make your knives, instead of going to the junkyard like you’d have to”. Jenny hesitated, brow furrowing and lips pressing together.

“What’s the catch,” she asked, narrowing her eyes. He shook his head, watching Junkrat going to get his food and sit at a stool.

“No catch. Just expect Rat to get nosy and try to butt in”. “Mate, I just got up, I don’t care what you’re talkin’ about right now,” Junkrat snapped, making Jenny flinch a bit. Roadhog chucked a small bolt at the other man, making Junkrat yell in pain as it nailed him in the temple.

“Shut up. She’s coming back to fix her weapons. She’ll use my workbench,” Roadhog said. “Don’t want you bothering her when she does, got it?” Junkrat glanced over, tired grin on his face. He held up two fingers.

“Scout’s honor, Hoggy”. Roadhog mumbled out a “shut up”, going over to his bed to grab his things. Jenny stood as well, assuming he was getting ready to take her home.

“I’ll be back, Rat. Don’t blow yourself up until then”. “Can’t promise nothin’,” Junkrat laughed, downing his tea as Roadhog led her out of the door.

Jenny took the lead, letting Roadhog fall into step behind her. He towered over her, his intimidating height and stance making everyone back off and let her through.

“... You really won’t mind if I come back?” “No,” Roadhog answered. “Just don’t get Rat worked up”. She has no idea what that means, but she’ll try her best. She wonders if that means just… talking about weapons, in general.

“... Why’d you even help me, last night? You could’ve just let me go”. Roadhog was silent. Slowly, he patted her head- almost affectionately.

“You remind me of… certain things, from a long time ago, kid. Might just be getting old, but,” he hesitated, removing his hand. “... Might just be getting old”. Jenny remembers some stories of the older junkers- the ones who were around before the Ominium exploded. She can get an idea of what he’s talking about. She nodded, letting the subject drop.

She stared up at the door to Junkertown, watching it slowly open. She hesitated, before looking back up at him.

“Mind if I go ahead and come back with you, after you’re done?” He snorted a little, patting her back.

“No- although, Rat might”. “He can get over it”. Roadhog let out an actual laugh, albeit a short one, making her grin.

“Yeah. He can”.

[sweetness47]

New Coffee, New Chance Part 8

Pairing Misha x reader

Warnings: violence, language, smut, forced sexual favors, assault, MATURE 18+

Summary: Daryl has kidnapped you and Misha, and is forcing you to do anything he wants, in front of your love. Misha isn’t angry at you, he knows it’s not your fault. He has sworn that if he ever gets the chance he will kill your asswipe of a husband. And what about Jared and Jensen? Are they safe? Will they be able to find you before Daryl does the one thing you dread most?

A/N: I am going to write some of the story from Misha’s point of view, and from Jared’s. I will make sure each area is clearly marked as to who’s telling the story.

 ========================================================

Jared’s PoV:

One of the guards that Daryl had shot while kidnapping Misha didn’t have a fatal wound, and managed to make his way to the studio, and I caught him limping out of the corner of my eye. Nudging Jensen, we ran to him and helped him to a chair. While the director called 911, the guard told us what happened. Jensen and I immediately called our families, who assured us they were fine. We informed the police of Misha’s kidnapping and possibly Y/N’s as well. Assurance was given that the police protection around our families would double, and they would do everything they could to find our friend and my cousin. And for as much as we wanted to let the cops handle this, we knew Daryl was beyond dangerous, with his biggest obsession being Y/N.

Jensen and I knew filming would be suspended until Misha was found, so we decided to do some investigating ourselves. I went to my cousin’s house to see what I could find there. Jensen went to Misha’s house. We made arrangements to meet up in an hour at the studio. Jensen had the police come to Misha’s home when he discovered the bodies of the guards and the unconscious home care aide. He procured Y/N’s phone before the cops came, and showed it to me when we met later. I didn’t find much at her apartment, other than the fact that it had been gone through, and not neatly either. Clothing and furniture were strewn everywhere. Dishes were broken and the windows were all smeared with food and dish particles. Two of them were broken. There goes the damage deposit.

I was extremely happy to see my cousin’s phone. I knew she had implanted a tracker under her skin, not visible or detectable to anyone or anything. I was the only one who knew. Using her phone number I activated the tracker through her phone, and then set up Jensen’s phone to do the same, in case we got separated for any reason. Night was falling fast, meaning we were running out of time. We ate and grabbed a few hours of sleep, knowing we needed to be alert when we went hunting.

Misha’s PoV”:

“You fucking bastard, I swear when I am free of these restraints I will kill you! Do you hear me?” I was livid, watching Daryl abuse Y/N like that. Every part of me wanted to rip his head from his body and burn it. I shook with anger, and all I saw was red.

I tried to soothe her after he left. I couldn’t reach her to hug or comfort her the way I wanted, but I tried to at least consol her with words. She smiled weakly, nodding, but I knew she was ashamed of what had happened, what Daryl had forced her to do.

“It’s not your fault babe. He is a monster, not you.” I paused, watching her cast her gaze down to the floor. “Y/N, look at me please.” Tears stained that beautiful face as she met my eyes. “Honey, you have done nothing wrong except try to help me. I am not angry with you. Please rest, help is coming soon. I promise.”

I watched her finally drift off to sleep and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. I could only hope that I sounded sincere. Jared and Jensen had to be looking for us by now. They would have the police involved, but I knew my friends, and I knew they would be looking themselves. My wrists ached and were covered in cuts and scrapes. The shackles that held us were quite sharp around the edges, and the more I struggled against them, the worse the cuts got. But none of that mattered, Y/N was what mattered. She had become my entire world, and I couldn’t bare to lose her. I was grateful when I finally drifted off in slumber, albeit restless, broken slumber, but rest none the less.

Y/N PoV:

I woke up stiff and sore. I glanced over at Misha, still sleeping, and felt horrible for what had happened the night before. He assured me that I wasn’t to blame, that he wasn’t angry with me. The love I saw in his eyes made me believe him. My heart floated to cloud 11, just when I thought I couldn’t love the man more.

Booted footsteps coming down the hall snapped me out of my daydream, and woke Misha as well. Daryl strode in, took one look at my soiled state, and went out of the cell, only to come back with a fire hose. I cringed as he turned on the water and sprayed me down, not even caring about the fact that it was cold. Well cold is an understatement, it was ice cold, freezing. I screamed and tried to avert my face as the force of the water slammed into me like a tidal wave. I shivered as the frigid streams covered me from head to toe, my thin, torn clothing providing no protection from the onslaught.

Once he was done with the hose, he came over and tore off what remained of my top and shorts. He also made quick work of my undergarments, and grabbed one of the dusty blankets on a nearby bed. Quickly and with no regard for gentleness or personal space, he dried off the cold droplets and then left me to shiver on the floor while he brung in the food he was originally going to serve us. It was cold, stale bread and old, half-cooked eggs. I gagged as he shoved the plate in front of me and ordered me to eat. He gave one to Misha as well. I could only assume he wanted to keep Misha alive to keep me submissive.

He left the cell, locking it as he went. I shivered, my teeth chattering now. I looked at the food and shoved the plate away with my foot. I tried as best as I could to huddle in the cover, but with my hands and feet in the chains it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t reach half my legs, and I couldn’t bring my knees to my chest or cross my legs to sit. Great, I thought to myself, I get to die from hypothermia. Fan-friggen-tastic. I look at Misha, who is watching me intently, making sure I’m ok.

“I’m fine, just a little cold.” I state, earning a raised brow and a smile from him. “I can’t feel my feet though, they feel like icicles. And I can’t stop shivering Misha. I guess I’m beyond cold, I’m fucking frozen. I think Elsa moved in next door and got angry or something.” Misha smiles at my movie joke, but he can’t hide the concern in his eyes.

“Y/N, just hang on. Try to focus, think of my arms around you. Think of us sitting by a fire, holding each other, with only our skin as our blankets. Think of us on a warm, tropical beach, soaking in the sun. Please, just hold on baby.” Misha’s words penetrate the icy wall around me, bringing my eyes to meet his. I have stopped shivering now, just the heat from his gaze warming me, his desire shooting straight through to my core, melting it, making me hot with lust and with an overwhelming love for the man in front of me.

We are interrupted again, as the cell door swings open and Daryl looks down at our untouched plates of food. He scowls and kicks the shitty meals out of the door. Then he comes toward me, a wicked grin on his face, and all my warmth is now gone, replaced by a fear, freezing me in one spot, unable to move as his large dirty hands make a grab for me. Too late I try to dodge him, and get a boot in my ribs for my effort. Misha strains against his chains, shouting all kinds of profanity and threats as Daryl takes away my blanket and tosses it aside. Then he pins me down with his body, making sure Misha has a clear view of my vaginal area. Then he shoves three fingers inside me, forcing me to open for him, and I scream. He fucks me with his hand, trying to make me orgasm, while making Misha watch. I close my eyes and think of the worst images I can, anything to keep from giving Daryl what he wants. It seems to work at first. Who knew that uncooked raw meat and mealworms weren’t romantic images?

Daryl begins to get angry, seeing his plan to force my orgasm isn’t working. He ups the ante then, using his mouth to give my clit pleasure while his fingers continue their assault. It’s almost too much for me to ignore, but I manage to fend off the growing heat in my core. I hate Daryl so much, I’ll never willingly give him the satisfaction of pleasuring me. Unfortunately my body begins to cave, and my hips begin to buck, trying to make me cum. I scream, desperate to make it stop. Daryl slaps my inner thigh, and then bites my clit. I yell at him, and struggle to break free from this nightmare.

“Give in to the orgasm bitch, or your boyfriend will become a one-handed wonder, and you will have to watch him bleed out!” he sneers. Misha shakes his head, yelling at me to ignore Daryl. But I can’t. Misha is my world. I can’t let him get hurt.

My body spasms as I cry out, the intense waves crash over me, my pelvis bucking to meet his fingers as he rides out my roller coaster that is my orgasm. I blush and turn away in shame and anger, then vomit, as a new hatred of Daryl fills my mind. Misha, still struggling to break free from his bonds, calls out to me, and shouts new threats and profanity at Daryl. Daryl responds by licking my wet throbbing pussy in front of Misha, then walking over and kicking him multiple times in the ribs. I yell at my husband to stop, begging, pleading. But it falls on deaf ears. When the beating is finally over, Misha is groaning on the floor, in horrible pain, and Daryl walks away laughing again.

I scramble over as close to Misha as I can once Daryl leaves, calling his name, trying to see how bad the injuries are. He rolls towards me, and I can see him coughing up blood. “Hang on Misha. Please. I’m so sorry.” I am crying again, fearful that my fucking asshole of a husband may have finally gone too far.

I hear more coughing as he tries to sit up. “Y/N. You can’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. I’m fine. You need to get that blanket around you and get warm.” He says, still more worried for my well-being than his.

I grab the blanket and wrap it around myself as best I can. Misha is trying to rest his body, and I can hear his breathing struggle. I know his ribs are seriously injured, and the ribs have punctured a lung. If he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he could die, drowning in his own blood. Then I will kill Daryl myself, making sure his death is worse than what Misha’s would be.

I let him rest and silently pray that Jared and Jensen find us soon. I check my intimate areas for injuries resulting from the earlier assault. My inner thighs have bite marks, but aren’t bleeding. My clit is swollen and there is some blood where Daryl bit me. There doesn’t seem to be any life-threatening damage though, thankfully. Right now my focus is Misha. I can’t lose him. But I’m powerless right now to help him, and I don’t trust Daryl to help him either. I trust Daryl about as far as I can throw him, which is like in the negatives.

Daryl comes in a couple of hours with some food that is supposed to be our lunch. Moldy cheese and stale bread with rusty water…yum. I take one look at the plates and dry heave, since I have nothing left to actually throw up. Daryl kicks the plate toward me anyways, and shoves one toward Misha. He leaves as he calls out “Eat up sweetcakes, you’re gonna need that energy later. We are going to have some great fun!” and walks away humming. I gag more, my stomach turning at the thought of what he plans to do later. My worst fears spring to mind, and I have flashbacks of that horrible night again.

Jared’s PoV:

We woke up a few hours later, and set to work tracking Y/N and Misha. Jensen and I knew we needed to find them quickly. The tracker was faint at first, and it was hard to follow. Jensen said they might be in a warehouse basement, which would explain the crappy signals. We just had to keep trying, and the warehouse idea gave us our first search area. One by one, we went through all the industrial areas within a 20 kilometer radius. The tracker wouldn’t be detectable beyond that range. The first two were unsuccessful results, but we got lucky on the third. The signal slowly got stronger, but was bouncing from building to building, all the electrical panels and low radiation levels confusing the signal. At least we had the right area now. We stopped the car and decided to split up. There were 5 buildings that fit the qualifications. Both Jensen and I took out our own personal handguns (yes we had permits) and went to work. We sent word to Jensen’s cop friends, letting them know where we were, and to send units asap.

Having done hunting on the TV show, we knew the drills for being careful. I started with the building labeled ‘A – Red’, looking for any way in. I finally came by a door with an old boarded up window and a cheap lock. I ran back to the car and grabbed a crowbar, then went back to the door. The lock broke easily enough, and I went in quietly, thankful that the door didn’t squeak. Slowly, flashlight in hand, I searched every square inch of the main floor and upstairs, ruling those out. Then I found my way to the basement area. Opening the entrance I peered around the corner and down the stairs, noticing there was lights on and voices. I also heard screaming, and breathed a quick sigh of relief as I recognized my cousin’s yelling. But that also meant she was in great danger. I had to act fast. I sent a quick text to Jensen, waited for it to send, and then cautiously made my way down.

@legion1993

[luisprada]

The Most Boring Summer Ever (or, How To Set Your Arm On Fire In 5 Easy Steps)

I wish there were still a bold line separating summer and the rest of the year. School used to go on seemingly without end until one day it just stopped and an extended months-long playtime began. Now summers camouflage into the rest of the year in one large blob of work and responsibility where, in the middle, my inner thighs get sweatier than usual.

No obligations and hardly any adult supervision laid the groundwork for a period devoid of the downers that taint adulthood. Even then, I knew how rare those days of bliss were.  Those months satisfied the need for adventure and fun that the school year forced me to suppress. We rode bikes beyond the streets our parents told us we couldn’t cross. We swam during thunderstorms after they told us we’d get struck by lightning if we kept it up, which only made us do it more. We explored the spooky burnt down house at the end of the block. The dread of the looming school year crept as the calendar marched on to the final week of August when classes started up again. Those summers were about discovery, of myself and the world. I never wanted them to end.

They ended the summer I set my arm on fire. All that freedom shit I was romanticizing can, if you’re not careful, lead to being consumed by flames that were kindled by a mix of boredom and stupidity so toxic it requires a HAZMAT suit to approach.

Looking back on it, I don’t just see the moment I set my arm on fire as a single scene. I see the sequence of events that unfolded over months that led to it.

When I Decided Not To Attend Summer Camp

Boredom is a powerful tool that can lead to creative breakthroughs maybe 2% of the time. The other 98% is guys laughing as they punch each other’s dicks after having exhausted all other entertainment resources. If not for camps, my summers would have been slogs I’d use to later become either a creative genius or a supervillain with a volcano base.

Unlike in movies where kids returned to the same camp every summer, the camps I attended changed every year depending on what my friends and I were into. I begged my mom to pull me out of a Boy Scout camp halfway through. I’m not a fan of Mother Nature’s severe lack of TVs, especially when this camp’s idea of wilderness was a park with 10 trees in the middle of a residential neighborhood across the street from a Best Buy and a Taco Bell. I was in a roller hockey camp where every day I and fellow campers donned all of our pads in the sweltering heat of summer to play a game of chicken against heat-induced delirium. It was like if child abuse was fun for the child. I was in another where we went on field trips every day. Mondays we went to a spring water pool in a beautiful local coral quarry. We bowled on Tuesday, went to an arcade on Wednesdays, and so on. It explains why, for a small stretch in my life, I thought we were rich. The illusion of wealth was shattered the day my mom couldn’t afford the camp fees anymore, which I found out minutes before I hopped on the bus for our weekly laser tag game. I was shuttled off to hang out with the rest of the kids who couldn’t afford the Premium Platinum Plus Executive Level summer camp experience. I got into a 4-on-1 fight within the first hour. Those kids were animals.

By the time I hit middle school, I felt I’d outgrown camps. I was fast approaching adulthood. I should be getting a head start on being a listless loser with no future who sits around all day while his friends are actually doing something with their lives. Rather than spend another summer socializing in the sun, I figured I’d take the first steps into maturity by spending this summer the same way I use any brief instance of free time I manage to scrounge up as an adult – doing as little as humanly possible and basking in every glorious second of it.

 When My Family Thought It Wise To Have A Candy Bowl of Lighters In Our Home

My home was a smoker’s paradise. Not a school year went by where at least one teacher or classmate who caught a whiff of me as I walked by didn’t ask if I had been running an illegal gambling ring out of a basement. In fourth grade, a classmate asked if I smoked cigarettes after catching an intense smoky whiff of my Sesame Street book bag. What a dumb question. How did he not notice me enjoying a couple smokes under the monkey bars every day during playtime?

My mom smoked one cigarette a day, just one to unwind after work. My aunt would pop in and out to snatch a smoke at odd intervals like she was an audience favorite sitcom character who’d have to wait for the applause to die down before she delivered her first line. My grandfather knew he was impervious to the Grim Reaper’s touch, so he’d chain smoke to rub Death’s futility in his bony face. To accommodate the smokers, there was always a candy dish filled with lighters and matchboxes somewhere around the house.

I wandered the apartment that summer struggling to find the reason I left the camp life behind. The desire to spend your free time relaxing at home rarely takes into account how little there is to do at home, especially on a weekday. Daytime TV was all soap operas and judge shows. I still can’t watch them without feeling like I’m in a waiting room about to get my braces tightened. I couldn’t rely on my Sega Genesis since the only games I had were Sonic Spinball, where the fusion of Sonic the Hedgehog and pinball into a punny title was the game’s only redeeming quality, and Math Blasters, a game I will never forgive for trying to trick me into liking math. The excitement the technological toys lacked I found in the primitive destructive powers of fire, which could be created with any number of the lighters and matchbooks lying around.

I improvised little fire-based games, like “Melt Plastic Sandwich Bags” where you won by melting clear plastic sandwich bags while trying to not boil my flesh or pass out from the fumes. Another fun one was “Let’s Burn Wooden Kebob Skewers For No Reason.” I was undefeated. Both of these eventually gave birth to a third game called “Try To Hide Signs of My Pyromania From Mom,” which I never won. The lighters were just sitting there, begging me to figure out how to use them to kill time and possibly myself and everyone in the building.

When I Shoplifted A Knock-Off Zippo Lighter From Spencer Gifts

When the boredom became too much to bear, which happened after I ran out of things to set on fire, I’d walk a few blocks to a local mall. I’d make routine stops at Electronics Boutique to gawk at all the non-Math Blasters games I couldn’t afford and then at Sharper Image to sit and groan with sensual pleasure in the massage chair until I was asked to leave. I’d circle the food court collecting free samples of chicken slathered in the traditional sugary chicken sauces of mysterious far-off lands.

No trip was complete without a visit to the Spencer Gifts hidden in the dark corridor at the ass end of the mall. All malls are required by federal law to have at least one Spencer Gifts or be heavily fined. It’s a loadbearing store. Spencer Gifts is where people with bad taste make a pilgrimage to stock up on fake dog poop, edible underwear, and novelty shot glasses emblazoned with fun slogans celebrating alcoholism. Today, it’s mostly filled with people deciding if they should buy a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles snapback flatbrim hat or pay their bills. The placement of this particular Spencer Gifts suggested it was this mall’s greatest shame. In my memory, it looks like the kind of place you suspect launders money for a local crime syndicate. Part of the proceeds of every glow-in-the-dark Jimi Hendrix poster went to buying off a couple cops and a City Councilman.

It was there that I saw it, the object that would save my summer: a knock-off Zippo lighter with a picture of a woman’s ass with a black thong running up the crack. Since anything that could be even vaguely described as porn was hard to come by for at least another year until I finally had internet, anything that showed off a woman’s body was a holy relic worth sacrificing my life to obtain and protect. One day between classes in middle school, some classmates and I came across an issue of Hustler lying on the grass out in the open. There was a woman showing off her vagina right there. How did no one else see this? Were we dehydrated wanderers being deceived by a mirage? We pounced on it at the same time and tried wrestling it from each other’s grasp, titties and pubes flying everywhere. We had to fight for our porn then. There’s only so much scrambled cable TV porn that looks like people are fucking in a Dali painting that a pubescent boy can take. One clear picture of a naughty part is all we asked for, and this knock-off Zippo with a thonged ass delivered that and fire. I was a budding pyromaniac in the throes of puberty and I kind of wanted to have sex with this lighter. But I had no money. The only way to make this truly terrible lighter mine was to steal it.

I cased the joint in the days leading up to the big heist. Their security system was no more than the bored guy in his early 20s working the cash register and hoping he’s not this store’s manager by the time he’s in his early 30s. There wasn’t a camera in sight. No scanners at the entrance. This wasn’t the Ocean’s 11 Bellagio heist. I grabbed it and headed over to the rear corner of the store, as far away from the register as I could get with plenty of aisles and novelty piggy banks shaped like boobs between me and the sole employee. I ripped open the packaging and slid it into my pocket. I probably could’ve told the cashier I was taking it and that he wouldn’t have broken his thousand-yard stare into the void of boredom enough to stop me. But in the moment my heart was racing, my temples were sweating, and my veins were pumping with enough adrenaline to lift an excavator off a baby if need be.

I walked home with the butt lighter in my pocket, terrified, thinking a squadron of waddling mall cops would be hot on my tail. I relaxed when I stepped into my apartment, and more so when I entered my bedroom. I had made it. The knock-off Zippo with a woman’s thonged butt was mine. My boring summer was about to become legendary.

All of this was the beginning of my brief but prolific career as a petty shoplifter. My youthful dabbling in criminality would come to an abrupt and fitting end a few years later when I got caught stealing Sonic Adventure for the Sega Dreamcast from a Target a block from home. When I die, the Grim Reaper will visit me in the form of Sonic the Hedgehog and together we will loop-to-loop over spike pits into the Great Beyond.

When I Ignored My Own Really Good Advice

I’d spent all summer searching for meaning in the boredom. I almost found it in the bowls filled with lighters, and again in the melted sandwich bags, but I wound up having to steal it from a Spencer Gifts. The lighter was the reason I left summer camps behind. It was the discovery of self at the end of a spirit quest. More than anything, it let me set things on fire with a butt.

When I wasn’t fiddling with it, it was never more than an arm’s length away. I’d spark it again and again, so often that I’d go through a bottle of lighter fluid every couple weeks. The cheap plastic gas station lighters in the candy bowls were functionally identical to the butt lighter, except the butt lighter had meaning. I earned the butt lighter. Each flame burned as hot as my desperation to not be so fucking bored because I made the horrible mistake of not going to summer camp. The flame, with its mysterious alluring powers to ruin and purify, became my Savior, and because of it I now totally understand how religion got started in the first place.

One day, I sparked the flint and it wasn’t followed by a flame. Out of fluid. No worries, though – I had some hidden away in my bedroom desk. Zippo-style lighters don’t have an enclosed inner chamber like cheap plastic gas station lighters. They’re filled with cotton stuffing that keeps the wick moist with absorbed lighter fluid. I slid the fluid tank from its casing and flipped it upside down to expose the cotton over the kitchen sink. The stuffing is so absorbent it can be hard to tell when it’s filled. The time between when the fluid peaks over the top of the cotton and when it’s dribbling down your forearm is roughly the same as a single flap of hummingbird’s wings or the length of my attention span. I got lost in thought and the fluid overflowed. It ran down my left forearm, streaming down my elbow. I knew the muscle memory wanted me to give the flint a flick after sliding the tank back in its casing, so I over-prepared by repeating a single mantra to prevent a worst-case scenario:

“DON’T SPARK THE LIGHTER!”

It echoed in my brain. It was my only thought.  

“DON’T SPARK THE LIGHTER!”

“DON’T SPARK THE LIGHTER!”

“DON’T SPARK THE LIGHTER!”

 When I Sparked The Lighter

As I watched the flames race up my left pinky to my elbow in an instant while making that dramatic “WOO-UUF!” sound fire makes in movies (which I can assure you is the sound it actually makes), I remember thinking, “Well, see, now this is pretty rad.” A second later I went into the customary “I’m on fire” panic, but not before I took a second to appreciate how, despite the horror, being on fire makes you feel pretty fucking metal. I wouldn’t suggest it to spice up a dull evening at home or an uneventful cocktail party, but it is a nice change of pace that can liven things up a little.

Stop, Drop, and Roll is an easy to remember tip that could save your life if you’re ever on fire, assuming you remember it. But being on fire really screws with your priorities. So I did not Stop, Drop, and Roll. Instead, I just went with the flow and did whatever my spirit told me to. My spirit was telling me to wave my arm around and scream. It wasn’t really helpful, but it felt right. That’s what really matters when you’re on fire.

The screaming wasn’t from the pain. It was from the shock of being engulfed by flame. I don’t remember the pain. Being on fire is a spectacle just uncommon enough in real life that it only makes sense in a movie, where the hero barbecues a henchman with a flamethrower who flails around screaming before leaping out of a window to splat on the street to end the pain. Something heroic like that. You don’t imagine setting yourself on fire in your kitchen on a Tuesday afternoon. I may have felt pain in the moment, but I was too distracted by being on fire to feel it, if that makes sense.

Something I’ve always marveled at is how, in a moment of desperation, the ghostly spirit of instinct will possess your body to guide it to safety. While my eyes and most sections of my brain were busy trying to comprehend how part of me was on fire, instinct launched my right hand over to the knob on the sink. I twisted the faucet open with a swift spin. In one fluid swipe, my left arm cut through the stream. The momentum swung water spotted with the black ashes of my arm hair across the counter to my right.

The fire was out.

The little wisps of burnt hair smoke I inhaled trying to catch my breath made me want to vomit. There was a defining line of forearm hair that had been scorched away. Hair, hair, ha—BALD. The few hairs that remained had singed tips that smeared into dust. I caught my breath then wiped down the counter. I lit an incense to mask the unmistakable funk of burning me. I pieced the lighter back together and sparked it again.

Yep. It worked.

The hinge on the lighter top snapped off a couple months later. I never used it again. I kept it in my desk for a few years longer as a memento of that time a woman’s ass set me on fire. I didn’t go back to camp the following summer, or ever again. My instinct was right. I had outgrown summer camp. I had chosen the worst way to end that chapter of my life. I hung out with friends and generally tried to spend more time away from places I could accidentally self-immolate in a fit of boredom. 

Summer came to a well-earned end a couple weeks later. The hair on my arm had mostly grown back by the time I stepped foot into homeroom for the first time. I didn’t let the lingering summer heat stop me from wearing long-sleeved shirts to hide my arm stubble.

Most school years began with dread. Not this one. For the first and only time in my life, I couldn’t wait to go back. I hated school like it murdered my family and only kept attending so I could destroy it from the inside, but at least it wasn’t so boring that I had to set myself on fire to make it interesting.

[superanimenatural]

Snatched (1/2)

Joker x reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Death, Swearing, Alcohol.

4643 Words

   I listened to Michelle going on and on about how she was planning on sleeping with as many men as she could tonight, and her bedroom would be off bounds. I didn't mind that she wasn't here to meet anyone, since she didn't need a relationship if she was planning on moving away.

Michelle showered, dressed and got ready in one part of the room and I was in the other, I wore a tight black dress, thin straps, and my arms were bare. The bottom of the dress came to just above my knees, leaving my legs bare. Slipping on a pair of black heels, finishing off my classic look and that was how I liked it, you could never go wrong with a little black dress. My hair was left down and it came to the middle of my shoulder, it was straight, I had attempted to curl it but it never held, even with a lot of products in it, it just hung loose. I turned to Michelle who was wearing an even shorter dress, it was tucked just under her backside, and it was strapless, and then she had to keep pulling it up, and then down, but she smiled and headed to the door, her hair was up and her makeup was done, she headed down and made sure everything was perfect.

Within the hour the house was full. I wasn't even sure who was who, but it was loud and it was a brilliant night. I moved from room to room and some people stopped me, I knew a few and they introduced me to others they were with, I was enjoying myself. Who knew it was going to be short lived?

 Later into the night I knew that I had too much to drink and I was laughing with a bunch of people and one of them was a young man. He was cute enough and the fact that I didn't care anymore helped. What was one night? We don’t have to swap names, or numbers. I could have one night and never see him again! Finally, the group moved outside to be by the pool, which might not have been such a good idea because they ended up jumping in. I stayed on the side and laughed at the others jumping in. The cute guy grabbed my hand and pulled me to one side, his other hand came up and rested on the side of my neck and he leaned down to kiss me and I kissed him back, he then grabbed my hand and pulled me further away from the others and towards a darkened place in the garden where we couldn't be seen. It was somewhere near the wall that surrounded Michelle's home. Once fully out of sight he pushed me up against the wall, his body pressed against mine, his head pushed into the side of my neck and I stupidly let him, his hand grasped my backside and then tried to move down and grab the bottom of my dress and tried to pull it up, "Sorry pal, this isn't your lucky night," A deep voice made us both stop and the guy turned to see a tall man standing beside him. "Fuck off pal, I ain't sharing," he turned back to me, and he didn't look happy, "I wouldn't touch the bitch with a dog catchers pole," The new man snarled then he grabbed the cute guys tee shirt and pulled him away, then his hands moved up and wrapped around his head and twisted. I looked to the cute guy who was now lying on the floor, trying to make sense of what I was witnessing. His body laid crumpled and his head was at a different angle. The tall man made a grab for me and I managed to swat his hand away. I swore but not sure if it was out loud or in my head. If I had been sober I could have put up more of a fight but with all the drink it was making me sluggish. He came at me again and I managed to move out of his reach and tried to run back to the house, but he grabbed my hair and I was pulled back. He had pulled that hard I was flung backwards and I hit the wall. A bit dazed I felt that his hand was wrapped around my throat, he moved closer to me and he didn't look happy, anger filled his eyes as his fingers tightened, "We need her alive boss," Another voice added from the dark. The man sighed and let go of my throat slightly, but not enough for me to slip out of the grip, but he pulled me forward and then pushed my head back. It was hard enough to hurt and to make me fall into the darkness with the thought I had seen him somewhere before, and I was sure he had green hair.

  I woke with a sore head, the first thing I thought about was how much did I have to drink? My head was thumping. I tried to lower my arms as they were stiff with being in the same position. However, I moved to pull them down but something stopped me as they wouldn't move, frowning I opened my eyes and winced at the light, my eyes hurt more than my head, but I tilted my head back and looked to my wrists, they had thick metal manacles around them, and were fasted to the wall above my head. I pulled but it only ended up hurting my wrists. I moved to turn over so I could get a better pull, but as I moved my feet I felt the same restraint. I managed to look down and seen both of my ankles were fastened with the same thing as my wrists. Now the panic started to set in.  Then the events of last night hit me. The guy that was kissing me was dead, his head was turned around so he had to be dead.  "Oh, my father is going to kill you!" I screamed and thrashed around on the bed, but I only resulted in hurting myself even more. I stopped and looked round the room, there was nothing but a half a wall near the corner, there was a camera in the corner and it was pointing in my direction so I flipped them the finger.  "Wait till you come in here pal and I am going to kick your ass," I yelled at the camera, my anger grew and I tried to pull at the chains again. I gave in when my skin began to rub and eventually bleed. My shoes were gone and with all the thrashing my dress had ridden up. My throat was dry and sore from shouting. 

  "Will you stop," A deep voice came from my left so I turned my head. A tall man with a red smile, pale skin and green hair stood there, his arms were folded, I could see the guns in the holders but my anger didn't fade

  "No, not until you let me go," I snapped at him,

 "Not until I get what I want," He growled out and I glared back at him,

  "Let me off this bed and I will give you something," I rattled the chains and he smirked,

  "Get comfortable Miss (YLN), you are going to be here a while," he made a move to leave, "I need to pee, you have to give me that, you cannot expect me to lie in my own filth," I shouted and he stopped and moved to the end of the bed, he looked as though he was thinking about it but the he smirked,  "Oh you fucking arsehole!" I struggled again, if I could just get my feet free I would kick that smug look off his face. He shook his head and walked out. "You might want to watch your language to the man who now controls your life," He said as the door closed. "You don't control me, and you never will!" I screamed and took my anger out on myself mostly by pulling at the chains which in turn dug into my skin, "Let me go," I howled.

   "She isn't going to give in," Frost looked up to his boss, then back to the screen, watching as the girl screamed and thrashed around the bed.

  "Luckily there is no one around to hear her scream then," Mister J sighed, he could see the blood on her arms and ankles when he walked in.

  "When do we let her father know?" Frost sighed.

  "Give it a few days, let him stew," Mister J placed a hand on Frosts shoulder then turned and walked out of the room.  "Seriously you lot are going to regret me being here, I will make your lives miserable," I laid my head down and closed my eyes, my head still hurt and I wanted to sleep, but I wasn't going to give in, I couldn't! What if they did something when I was asleep, there was a hissing noise and I tried to look round the room. "Oh, you bastards," I rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly, there was a small jet of gas coming out of the wall on my right, then another hiss and another bit of gas on my left, I struggled to keep my eyes open, and I fell into a sleep.

I woke and my arms were down by my side, I jumped up and shivered. My hands and one of my ankles were free. I  was able to get off the bed and I took advantage, but as soon as I stood up I almost fell over, the whole entire room began spin, my hand shot out and steadied myself against the wall, I wanted to be sick, I hoped the wall in the corner of the room was hiding a toilet, and then I sighed with relief as I threw myself down to the toilet and threw up everything my stomach had left in it, then I fell back against the cold tiles, in this half of the room where the toilet was the walls and floor were tiled, then it was painted concrete for the rest of the room. There was a noise of metal grating on metal and I flinched, I leaned to the side to look around the wall and saw a tray with food on it being pushed into the room. I stood up and moved to it. There was some sort of mush, it was a grey in colour and there was a piece of bread and a glass of water. I removed the glass and then I picked up the tray and threw it across the room. I sat against the door and sipped on the water, my hand moved up and touched the back of my head, there was still a slight bump and it hurt, then I looked to the huge manacle that was still around my ankle, it was huge, the marks on my wrists and ankle from the others were rubbed raw and there was dried blood on my skin, they were going to leave a few scars when they finally healed.  The other end of the chain ended at a hole in the floor, the chain moved in and out as I moved round the room, but as I tried to pull more up it locked into place. So, choking my guard was out, I thought.

I wasn't sure how long I had been here, but I had received five meals, three of them had made it across the room but I kept the water. By time the fourth was delivered I was so hungry, I gave it a try, and it was disgusting and I pushed it away. The fifth meal wasn't any better and so I suffered through it, if they thought that they were going to break me then they were mistaken. I washed my mouth out with the water, but my teeth now felt furry as I hadn't been able to brush them since I got here, and then there was a shower, I felt dirty and grimy.

I bounced off the bed as the door opened and the green haired man walked in. He pulled a face as if he could smell something, and I stood with my hands on my hips and glared at him. "Time to talk to you father Miss (YLN)," he stood there with his hands in his pockets, he looked so relaxed, I nodded and walked round the bed slowly my head down. I had to make him believe I had given in and as I got closer I launched myself at him, at first he was surprised and he tried to catch my wrists as I tried to hit him, then I tried scratching his face, my feet were involved as I managed to kick him in the knee and he grunted, but then my leg was pulled out from beneath me, and I had to hop a few steps but then I fell, the chain was retracting back into the hole pulling me back with it. "NO!" I yelled and tried to find a handhold, my fingers made it to the doorframe and I pulled, my body stretched as I was in a tug of war, but the chain were winning as the tension on my ankle grew, my fingers slipped and I tried to hold on, my nails dug in and one of them broke off, I let out a cry and my fingers slipped. I noticed as I was pulled back that he was straighten out his clothes and glaring at me.  "We will try that again some other day," He moved to grab the door handle as I cradled my hand to my chest, willing the pain in my nail to go away, it throbbed with every heartbeat,

  "I hate you, and when I get out of this room I am going to kill you!" I screamed as the door closed,

Only when the door was firmly locked did the chain loosen and I could move again. I looked down to my nail and half of it was gone and it was bleeding. I wanted to stick it in my mouth, but my fingers were grubby. I was going to get an infection in the open wound! I moved to the glass of water and dipped my finger into it, sighing as the cold water soothed it. I shuffled back to the bed with my wounded pride and leaned back against it, resting my head back onto the thin mattress, then I threw the glass with a yell of anger. Pulling my knees up and resting my head on them I refused to give into the tears, even though I wanted to sob my heart out, just to give in and cry until I couldn't do it anymore.

It was a few days later the door opened again and he stood there and looked at me, "Are you going to behave this time?" He asked and I stood from the bed and pulled myself up to full height and squared my shoulders, "Of course," I tilted my head and he stepped in. I could tell he didn't trust me, but those blue eyes watched me,

  "Hands," He said as he moved to stand in front of me and I held my hands out, he fastened handcuffs on and then kneeled and unfastened the chain on my ankle but left on the manacle. He grabbed the top of my arm and walked me out, I wondered why he would bother doing this himself I knew this man had many men to do his work for him.

Outside there was a long corridor and there were doors, about six doors on either side, and then there was one at the end, I realised there was no way out of here, even if I got out of the room I still had to get out of here and there was a finger print scanner at the end for this door, but once the door was opened I was in another world. The room on the outside was like a palace, high ceilings, stone pillars, huge paintings, marble floors, side tables against the walls, and it went on forever. He pulled me through this room and turned to another corridor, this one was full of windows down one side and I looked out, there was nothing as it was pitch black outside, "Look all you want Miss (YLN), but there is no getting away, not unless I let you go," He said gruffly and his fingers tightened on my arm.

  "What leave here? A gorgeous place like this? I might never want to leave! You have been so welcoming!" I gave him a bright smile and he frowned at me, but his grip tightened as he continued to pull me.

We ended up in another room and I looked around. It was almost empty except for chains hanging from the ceiling and the computer at the other end of the room on a table, and there was a huge cabinet filled with knifes, whips and other things that looked as though they could skin me alive. "Hands up now," He moved me to under the chains, "Oh honey I don't think I’m ready to step up our relationship to this level," I pulled at my arms but he was so much stronger than I was, and my handcuffs were fastened, my arms were pulled above my head and I was on my tiptoes, "Hey could you bring them down slightly, make them a bit more comfortable?" I tried to move my head round so I could see him, but he had moved to the computer and was pushing buttons, then came my father’s voice and something inside of me wanted to cry and break down and cry for my daddy to save me. He pulled the table closer to me and I could see my father’s face in the screen, I tried to smile and a few tears fell.  "Oh, my sweet thing, are you all right?" he moved a little closer to the screen, "This is the worse place I have been to, and I have stayed at Uncle Gordon's! The food is disgusting they really should sack the chef. And I would love a shower, but not sure if they have any," I tried to shrug but I couldn't move.

  "Are they hurting you?"

  "Only with the food," I gave him half a smile and I heard a growl from Joker.

  "You want her back, you have something I want, and now I have something you want," Joker slammed his hand down on the table and the monitor shook.

  "You will give her back Joker, I will hunt down every one of you, for every hair on her head that you touch I will kill one of you," my father snarled into the camera on his side.

  "You go dad," I cheered “Do nails count?" I called out and received a glare from Joker, his hands ran through his hair and he looked to be taking in a deep breath.  "You brought this on yourself," He straightened and walked to the cabinet and pulled out something I couldn't see, but I felt it and heard it as there was a lash across my back, and I heard the crack of the whip, my body jumped and I let out a cry. The next one landed on the back of her leg, there wasn't much pain to it, but more the noise and the touch,

  "Joker I swear I am not kidding, leave her alone," my father shouted,

  "Where is it?" Joker shouted and I lifted my head, had my father taken something belonging to Joker, who was crazy enough to do that, then there was another crack and I felt that one, the man with the whip was getting angrier,

  "I will kill you," my father shouted,

  "Not before I do," I said through clenched teeth,

  "Every mark will be given tenfold back to you," my father shouted, spit covered the camera and Joker stopped and came around to the front,

  "Do you still have it?" Joker sounded relieved, all the tension left his body,

  "Not for much longer, I will remove a part of her for every day you have my daughter," my father leaned forward and switched the monitor off Joker screamed and grabbed the computer and threw it across the room, I tried flinching as he grabbed the table and threw that as well, then he turned to me and my eyes widened. I didn't want his rage, and he came to stand in front of me, his hand came up and grabbed my chin, holding my head in one place, "If he hurts her, I will kill you!" his voice was low and menacing, his eyes were dark and deadly, and I swallowed, he meant every word.  "W..wh...who," I stuttered,

  "I am not telling you anything, you are going back to your room, if he does what he says he is going to do, then I will remove from you what he took from her," He reached up and unchained me and my arms dropped,

  "Why not just give him what he wants, to get her back," I let him pull me out of the room, and I stumbled slightly, but he pulled me back to my feet,

  "Enough, this is none of your business," he snapped and continued to pull me, his grip wasn't as tight as before and I pulled free and ran. I had no idea which way to go, but I went, I turned my head trying to find somewhere to run to, I looked behind me to see if he was following, but he wasn't and for a moment I thought I might be able to escape. There was the front door, it had to be the front door, it was a huge wooden thing that I might have expected to see more in a castle than in this kind of house. I grabbed the huge round metal handle and pulled, it didn't budge an inch, my feet dug in and I pulled with everything I had, still nothing, there was no lock, or it looked like it didn't need a lock, turning I saw him just casually walking towards me, like he didn't have a care in the world. "Have you had enough," He asked bored with the whole thing,

  "If you could just open it and give me a five-minute head start," I shrugged and he started laughing but he kept on walking, "I don't think so, now enough with the games come on," He held his hand out and I looked round and seen a table beside the door and it had several objects on it. I moved to it and picked the first thing up, it looked like marble and had a pointy end, so I threw it. He dodged that one but by the time he focused on me again I had thrown something else and it had hit him, he flinched and then when he looked at me again I was throwing something else. "God dammit woman," He hissed and came at me through the missiles. I had kept one in my hand and I lashed out with it, he managed to stop my arm that held the object. "Damn woman these things were expensive" He was too busy keeping an eye on my arms that he held and wasn't expecting the knee and I landed it straight on target and he groaned and dropped away from me. When he was down the object I had been holding now came down on the back of his head, and he slipped into the darkness for a moment, and I was worried that I had hurt him, rolling my eyes I stepped over him and tried to find another way out of the house. I ran through the corridors, not taking time to look at anything. I didn't care what I was passing, I just wanted out, or a phone, even a phone would be good.

This was like a maze, I moved through room after room, corridors on top of corridors, there in front of me was glass doors, it was a large room filled with bookcases and a large wooden desk, on there was a laptop. I moved over to it and flicked it on keeping an eye on the door. I swore as I seen the screen on the laptop asking for the password. I wanted to throw it! But I stood up and headed to the glass doors, before I could even get my hand on the handle my hair was grabbed and I was pulled backwards, my feet left the floor and I moved through the air and hit the bookcases, then crumpled to the floor. Pushing myself into a sitting position I looked up to him, there was blood on the front of his shirt from where I had hit the back of his head and it had dripped down when he fell, and it looked so much redder than usual against his pale skin

 "Bad head?" I smiled and he looked so angry,

  "It hurt, but it will heal, you can't get out Miss (YLN)," He moved to me and I lashed out with my hands and feet,

  "You will say anything to stop me from trying," I squirmed as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me further into the middle of the room, he then managed to sit astride me, he grabbed me wrists and pinned them above my head, and he lowered down so his face was inches from mine, "Trust me sweetheart there is nothing outside of this house for you, there is nothing,"

  "And I don't believe you! You just want to keep me all for yourself," I tried to squirm free and he grinned, 

  "Oh, keep moving baby girl," he laughed, his blue eyes bore into mine. "I want your father to give me what I want," His body moved down mine, and he separated my legs with his, I knew he would see the fear in my eyes now as he pressed himself against me,

  "Just let me go," I whispered and I tried too hard to stop the tears, but one escaped from the corner of my eye and rolled down into my hair,

  "As soon as your father co-operates," his eyes moved over my face, and then down to my throat, he let out a growl and got up abruptly and pulled me up.

  "What happens if he doesn't?" I pulled back and he sighed,

  "You don't want to know," He snatched back at my arm and pulled me out of the room, and took me back down to the cell. He pushed me in and then moved to the chain and fastened me back up,

  "Could you at least let me have a shower?" I moved to sit on the bed and stared up at him. He looked down and seen the softness in her eyes, gone was the hardness, I was trying so hard to keep the walls up, 

  "What do you say Baby girl," he came to me, his hand cupped my chin, I stared into his eyes. he had leaned down so closely now, "Please," I whispered and he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

  "Good girl, but you will have to behave," He stood up and walked out.

@zomtompham

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s03e06 About Face review - or more aptly named, introducing Joe Mantegna as David Rossi and me screaming over a certain scene that had my heart going super fast and unhealthily so

Episode 06 – About Face

Hey guys! So last episode was kind of low on the funny factor, which was a bummer, considering we had a child abducted and she could have died in Hotch’s arms and it was kind of heartbreaking and I don’t like it when my superheroes’ hearts are broken.

Let’s hope this one will be slightly better.

All right, let’s see what happens

Ooh, pretty lakes! Birdies!

Wait. Was that a gunshot?

Who’s the old guy?

Doggy!!!!!!!! A doggie doing the doggy-paddle.

Oh he shot the duck? Good aim!

And that doggie is so well-trained.

He just told Strauss he’s coming? And he’s giving her orders? Oh damn. This is one important old guy.

Okay.

And clean-shaven. I like him.

He sounds Italian. And has rings. He’s really important.

Oh. He’s a retired FBI agent? Wow.

What’s with the chain?

So just so we’re clear, we just had almost an entire minute of just seeing this guy come out of retirement? Well, either they’re out of ideas, or he’s going to be really prominent in this show.

Hahaha, the old guy and Strauss facing each other. This has gotta be good.

“What’s to understand, Erin?” oh shit! This David guy just called Strauss by her first name. he’s probably one of the most important FBI agents on the show. Oh my god. He looks so good here! But I like him scruffier like in the beginning of the episode.

“Well, this is getting boring.” Oh my god, he did not just say that. I love you, David! I wish I knew your last name!

“A completely selfless act.” “Is that so hard to believe.”

And I cannot believe Strauss told him yes. Fuck you, bitch.

Okay, Texas. That’s where this episode’s case is. Cool. Yee-haw.

Why is there a picture of herself taped to her door? I don’t get it.

I really don’t like this detective just dismissing her fear of seeing a picture of herself taped to her own front door. I really don’t like him. One bit.

Oh god, his wife is dogging on him for making fun of that lady. Oh my god, I love you Molly, even though I haven’t seen you yet.

Wow. That house is immaculate, man. I’m impressed.

What’s that noise?

Why is the tap running?

The food is still on the table.

What’s going on?

Where the fuck is Michelle?

Oh I bet she’s dead, dude.

Oh crap. Why is that room full of her pictures? What the fuck is that mask for? And why does it have ‘one’ written on it? What the fuck is going on here?

Joe Mantegna is the name of the actor who plays David. Cool. He looks cute. And he seems like he’ll be a good addition. I hope lives up to it.

Erasmus: “What else is the whole life of mortals, but a sort of comedy, in which the various actors, disguised by various costumes and masks, walk on and play each one his part, until the manager waves them off the stage?” AMAZING! I want that framed above my head. Someone make that into a poster or one of those quirky wooden signs that’s made up of letters and send it to me please? I love it so much!

Oh my god, first of all, I love it that Reid is going so meta and is walking around the bureau with a mask of Frankenstein, handing out candy.

And oh my god, he just scared Derek shitless! I love you so much, poodle!!!!!!!!! Oh my god, I just died laughing right now.

You know, from what I’ve seen on Tumblr, it looks like Matthew is a kind of awesome, and he likes Hallowe’en as much as Reid, I think they tapped into that here.

And Derek’s all like, who’s this bitch? And why is he so happy about a scary night?

“Are you telling me you’re scared of Hallowe’en?”

“I didn’t say I was scared, I said I was creeped out. There’s a difference there, youngster. You should look it up.” Oh my god, why are men so afraid of admitting they’re scared? LOL oh my little brave puppy is scared of Hallowe’en, I love you.

“I don’t like folks in disguises.”

“That’s the best thing about Hallowe’en. You can be anyone you want to be.” Oh poodle.

“Nah, I’m pretty good just being me.” You do you, cupcake.

“Yeah, why is that neither of those points of view surprise me?” EMILY YOU LITTLE SHIT!

“You know what, though? On the flip side, it does provide a pretty good reason to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Hallowe’en honey.” You know what? Shemar is probably the only person I’d ever watch a scary flick with. Cuz he has all those yummy muscles to cozy up to, and then those broad, sexy shoulders to hide in when I’m scared, and oh my god I’m getting myself wet. SHUT UP BRAIN!

Emily, how can you be creeped out by him? He’s literally sex on legs.

So David and Aaron know each other? Cool. Now Strauss will really be pissed and I’m happy as a clam.

Ah, finally they reveal his full name. David Rossi. Cool. He��s pretty famous, then. Damn.

Excited to learn about him.

Oh my god. I love David already. “Wow, we didn’t have that ten years ago.” And Hotch is all like, wait, is he gonna make a move on JJ? Cuz that’s not … “Communications coordinator.” Ah. So he’s still a funny man. Cool.

Oh god. I like him.

Oh my god. He introduces everyone, and when he gets to Reid everyone’s like, oh shit, he’s gonna embarrass everyone with his fanboy crush. Shit.

Oh god, I’m so happy with this addition to the show.

And Rossi’s micro-expressions are so awesome!

And Morgan’s like, is he for real right now? Shit.

You can literally SEE Thomas trying not to laugh here. Oh my god.

You goofballs, I love you guys so much.

“Hallowe’en brings out the fool in everyone.” Oh puppy.

Oh shit. That lady was raped and left in the water? And her face was fucking removed? FUCK

DRAMATIC PENELOPE ENTRANCE! “Oh, my god! What is that!” I love you so much, goddess! And I love your hairstyle!

“Is it gone, JJ?” I love you, Penelope, spirit animal of mine.

Oh god, I love it when my goddess is freaked out like that, because it’s so funny and Kirsten is such a good actress. I love you.

Oh my good Lord, I love Penelope acting all flustered for embarrassing herself over her freakout, oh my god this is glorious.

And Derek, why are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed by your GIRLFRIEND’s actions? Am I sensing a secret affair going on? (yeah, this is gonna be a recurring question throughout the series, just so you know, every time they do this… cuz seriously, they act like a married couple and it’s not fair to my heart).

“She’s different.” “You have no idea.” NOPE.

SHEMAR MOORE EYEBROW APPRECIATION (also recurring, get used to it), and bring back the goatee, I loved it! Made me want to go 

all up in his grill.

“Creepy. I rest my case.” Oh honey.

Seriously. Why would boys think it’s fun to throw eggs at stuff? I’m with this lady all the way.

Oh boy. This lady is up next. Shit.

Take the doggie and run!

Pensive Rossi. I like it.

Wait. He’s having waking nightmares about a case he had a while back that was connected to the charms he has? Damn.

“Well, she’s pretty.” Easy there, Tiger.

I’m with Derek. Reid may be good at methodologies, but Derek is on point with emotions. And if he removed her fucking face, raped her, and drowned her, then he’s got to be some kind of nutjob on a rampant rage.

“Thanks, baby girl.” Yup. I love it with the pet names. I love those two so much! Make out already!

My hottie’s on the move.

Wait! So the bad guy was like “I will have you my pretty, and your little dog, too!”? that’s straight out of Cruella Deville or something.

Oh god, my poodle is rambling and David’s like, dude, focus, let’s see what we have here.

Damn, this guy is on point like crazy. Walking the crime scene to try and understand it from her point of view? I love you.

My hottie surrounded by lush green.

No one should look this hot when saying ‘shotgun’.

You know, something isn’t sitting right with me. Why is David making notes and not saying anything? Why isn’t he sharing stuff?

Wait. Hold up. Enid is alive? Oh shit. She’s good. Please someone save her.

Oh damn. He got her.

Shit.

In 20 minutes.

Fuck.

At least the doggie is alive.

“Speak and be recognized by your empress, mortal.”

“Is this the technical analyst girl?”

“Who’s this?”

“Dr. Reid said this was your direct line from the team.”

“It is.”

“This is agent Dave Rossi. We met yesterday.”

“Of course, of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

Oh my god, I love Penelope so much. She’s like. Wait. Who the fuck is calling me right now? Why isn’t he laughing at my awesome jokes? Oh shit! It’s fucking Rossi! Someone bury me alive. Never, baby girl. Derek needs you.

Wait. Hold up. Rossi is calling up Garcia to do some snooping of his own? Without the team knowing about it? He doesn’t even want Hotch to know about it? Oh that is stinky.

“I will get back to you super fast. Scout’s honor.” Oh pumpkin.

That girl is really trying to help you, Rossi, try and be more cooperative and not secretive, okay? It goes both ways.

Hey sweetness.

So the guy doesn’t want to be ignored? He gets pissed off at that? And he kills those who ignore him? Oh my god.

“Have you seen me?” Oh, believe me, I’ve seen you gorgeous.

Wait, circling back to that first part of the line above. Hold up. Are you telling me those fliers were about the unsub? Oh shit.

Wait. How the fuck did the police get a hold of pictures of the masks? What? Why the fuck would Rossi contact the media and give them information Hotch was trying to keep private? What the fuck is going on?

Did Rossi just pull the ‘I’m older than you and I know my job’ card? Oh hell no, Italian sugarcane.

You work as a team, not as individuals. Come on, Rossi.

I mean, sure, Rossi was right in that he would call and demand the FBI, but he can’t just go over the rest of my superheroes’ heads, they don’t work like that, buddy. Get with the program.

Wait. What? How the fuck did Rossi deduce he’s inside the police station? What the fuck is wrong with you dude? Why would he provoke him like that and cause him to state he’s going to murder Enid White?

I’m with Derek, I’m highly skeptical of Rossi’s tactics.

Wait. Hold up. He lied about the security cameras capturing the unsub? Oh god. And all because he thinks the guy is completely off his rocker and won’t be careful because he’s psycho? I’m not sure about this.

And I’m with Derek, again. I’m seriously starting to get spooked by Rossi’s recklessness.

Wait, so Rossi can just feel the unsub is in the lobby? Oh god, he spooks the besjeezus out of me. I don’t like this side of him. I liked him when he was appreciating the team.

They’re trying to spook him into action by displaying credentials. Hotch, you smart puppy, you.

SHEMAR MOORE EYEBROW APPRECIATION #2 - I think my obssesion is getting unhealthy, just a tad

Aww, poodle found the unsub’s desk.

OH MY FUCK NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THANK FUCKING FUCK!

Don’t ever do this to me again, you fuckers!

ROSSI YOU SON OF A BITCH DON’T YOU DARE POINT A GUN WHEN MY BABY BOY IS IN THE LINE OF FIRE, I WILL CRUSH YOUR NUTSACK INTO A PULP AND YOU’LL WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN!

Sorry, I’m protective of my TV babies.

I’m not happy.

Okay I’m happy again, my poodle is handing out treats to the kids.

AND SO IS MY BABY BOY! YOU PRETTY LITTLE PONY!

Baby is back home. Safe and sound.

Oh my god, David, you are in serious trouble now. He did not just pull out the ‘Hotch didn’t tell me he broke up with Hayley’ card, that is low, Italian sausage, super low.

I’m not really sure what to think of Dave right now.

What unfinished business, Rossi? You have someone to kill? To save? What’s hiding behind that immaculate tie and sassy beard?

Did Rossi just take up Gideon’s office? Oh god. This is hard on me, dude.

Again with the charm.

Oh god, now it’s official. My heart.

 Okay, so this episode was kind of weird and really annoying and awesome all at the same time. So we learned that Derek really is just a softie scardy-cat who hates Hallowe’en and I love him forever and ever for it. We learned that my poodle loves Hallowe’en. And David Rossi joined the team. Now, listen, I liked him in the beginning, he was a sassy awesome ball of Italian goodness that had me really impressed, but I don’t like that he’s THAT old school that he doesn’t let my band of superheroes in and help solve the case as a team.

Like Aaron said, “There is no I in team.” Well, he didn’t say that exactly, but it was implied.

I’m really curious on how they plan to evolve Rossi’s character. Joe is really good at showing micro expressions and I’m super psyched for this.

All right, I have to go and get ready for bed, had a weird day, cuz I had to go twice out on errands, then entertain my siblings who came to visit me, and now I’m super tired yet need ot take a shower.

So I’ll see you all next time, and till then, keep the likes up, guys! You’re so amazing for acknowledging my weird obsession with detail, lol <3 au revoir, mes amis