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my-brothers-corrupted · 11 months ago

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My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Two

As they arrive in Ireland, the brothers try to find a place to settle and handle some crises as best they can. Masterlist

Tws for rejection-sensitive dysphoria, discussion of past abuse, arguing and shouting between brothers, and stress over money/poverty. Tws may not be completely exhaustive - keep in mind the heaviness of the fic and look out for yourself.

Thank you to @lehhoh7822 for taking the time to compile this book!

Anonymous asked: Hey guys, not to be a downer on your plans, but didn't Anti burn down the house inside the mirror portal? I swear I remember him bragging about that.

“He did,” signs Dapper quietly, even as Blue looks up at you and shrugs.

“We need that safe space, that’s the important part. If we have to rebuild we can. Or just get a fucking tent, ha. Go camping permanently. Do you - do you remember the mirror dimension I made, Dap?”

Dapper looks up at him, nodding. “Sometimes. It was nice there. I showed the cameras once. There are trees all around and the house in the middle.”

“But Anti burned it?”

“I remember him setting it alight. I don’t know what happened after that.”

Blue sets his chin in his hand, his mouth twisted up as he thinks. He gazes out the window as the flight attendant gives a speech about what to do if everything crashes and burns.

aether-mae asked: Is noodles okay? Don’t put him in a suitcase or anything, poor baby

“Here’s my sweet boy,” says Chase, lifting up a cat carrier inside which a very restless golden cat is scraping at the bars. “I’ll get you your harness once we dig it out, baby, yes I will.”

Jackie is burrowing in a blue gym bag, tossing things out as he looks for the harness. He’s just handed you to Henrik, who picks at a sticker on the side without speaking.

“Camera’s up and running,” sighs Jackie, pushing at his hair. “Let’s just find Blue and Dap and get somewhere to stay for the night. Hi, by the way. Fuck, that flight. Glad we’re here. Yeah, Chaser?”

Chase raises his eyebrows at you. Being stuck between a dead silent twin and a very bored, nervous Jackie for twelve hours was not his idea of a good time.

“Yep.”

“Here, snacks.”

He hands Chase a pack of peanut butter crackers and they tear it open like raccoons, their stomachs growling, and split the crackers between them.

Anonymous asked: Hey maybe jacks old cabin is vacant?

“What’s that?” asks Chase through a mouthful of crackers.

“I’d love to have a cabin to stay in right about now,” says Jackie. “But anything that doesn’t have warding against other magicians finding us isn’t safe. We really need to find that house we used to stay in again. But in the meantime, I mean. I guess we just lay low and hope that Blue and Dapper can hide their power. And that the Irish magicians are less aggressive than the British ones.”

nikkilbook asked: Random nature fact, but it turns out that Lapwing-the-literal-actual-bird things tend to chill in a lot of the wetlands, and that there’s an estuary where loads of the native duders live—as opposed to the summer and winter visitors from the continent—called Shannon Calloway where there can be tens of thousands of the little guys.

It happens to be in County Offaly.

Don’t know to what degree magicians mimic their birds, but if we’re avoiding Lapwings right now, maybe don’t go to Jack’s old cabin just yet.

Jackie giggles, handing Chase the harness and shoving a book out of the bag. “I hope they can all turn into little fat birds and fly around. I wish Blue could do that. His only fault, hahaha. Well, maybe we can see some real lapwings while we’re here.”

Henrik sets you beside him, bending down to pick up the book that has spilled out of the bag. It’s the little golden novel they bought in a shop in Norway - Thornton Wilder’s the Bridge of San Luis Rey. He strokes the cover, turning his eyes towards the trees.

“Want to see some birds?” Jackie asks him fondly, reaching out to tug playfully on his hair. After hours trapped on a plane, he’s about vibrating with energy. “You still like to go for walks, huh, Dok? We can go for walks now.”

He tugs on Henrik’s hair and clothes and hands, chattering incessantly. Chase’s gaze darkens the longer it goes on.

“Jackie, give him a break.”

“We can go all over if you want, Dok-Dok.” Jackie ruffles up his hair, laughing and knocking their heads together, and Henrik just sits there, blinking. “Whatever you want, bud.”

“Stop touching him like that, Jackie, cut it out,” snipes Chase, eyes flashing. “He’s not a toy just because he doesn’t talk anymore.”

Jackie draws back, startled. He turns away. They fall into silence. The birds are chirping.

nikkilbook asked: Hey, guys? Can we have a quick conversation?

Jackie, can you explain, as best you can, why you decided to physically engage with Schneep?

Chase, can you explain why you felt his behavior was objectionable?

Even though the two of you are brothers, and even though you both have so much love to give, you speak different languages most of the time. I suggest we set up some kind of quick-and-dirty translation guide for the both of you, before anything blows up.

“You don’t just have to - grab at him like that,” grumbles Chase, clutching Noodle to his chest. “Are we just going to pretend he’s normal forever? Just our weird silent brother now? Is that what we’re - oh, fuck, Jackie, don’t - fuck.”

He’s turned away from him and crying, his hood tugged low over his eyes. Chase groans and sinks down on the bench, rubbing his face. “You’re kidding, you’re kidding.”

Now he just feels bad.

nikkilbook asked: (So who’s going to give the camera little robot arms so I can start handing out hugs? I feel like this is a long-overdue modification.)

Jackie, what are you feeling right now? Try and doodle it on something if you can’t find the words. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay, but I think it might need to exist outside of the echo chamber that is your head.

You too, Chase. What thoughts and emotions triggered your statement? What’s the connection between physically touching Schneep and pretending like this is normal? And why is that something bad? Neither of you are mind readers.

“He’s my twin, okay?” says Chase. “Not yours. He’s my job. And he’s hurt right now! He can’t tell you if he wants you to touch him or not while he’s like this. Probably he doesn’t! So I just wanted you to keep your hands off, okay? Cause he’s not himself and I don’t know why we’re all just pretending he is.”

He looks up at Henrik, aching for a second for anything familiar to register through his brother’s eyes.

Henrik is buried in that book, his fingers sliding over the pages, his eyes taking nothing in. Esteban, reads the chapter title, and Chase feels something burn in his eyes. He takes the book from him and slams it shut, shoving it into the suitcase.

“I’m here, Dok,” he mumbles, touching his brother’s hands. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you again.”

Jackie cringes, pulling at his hoodie strings. He’s exhausted and overwhelmed and the airplane was loud and hot and crowded and his ears popped. Now he’s being a bad brother again. Too touchy, too stupid, too mean. Chase still thinks he’s going to hurt them again. He probably will. He’s just rage and anxiety and dumb decisions.

“Jackie, I’m sorry, I just overreacted and snapped a little. I’m not actually mad. You don’t gotta cry, man.”

He’s bad. He can feel it down to his chest, so intense it stings. He needs to throw up. He chews on the strings of his hoodie, clenching his fists in and out. In and out. In and out. He should have stayed with Blue and let the others go together so only his twin would have to see him like this - the wreck he really is.

crystalninjaphoenix asked: No harm was meant here. Chase is protective and just lashed out. Jackie didn't understand that contact would lead to a reaction. You're both on edge. Just remember no harm was meant.

“I’m sorry,” mumbles Chase. “But don’t freak out, okay? I just lashed out, they’re right.”

Jackie nods frantically, hiding beneath his hood. He wants to not be upset. He knows he’s overreacting and it doesn’t help for a second.

Chase sighs. “Want Noodle?” he offers weakly.

Jackie pauses, sniffing. After a second he nods. Chase hands the cat over and lets his brother hide his face and bury his fingers there in the golden fur of the kitten.

“I’ll guard,” he sighs, and you see him straighten and compose himself, finding a comfortable position and settling down to watch for danger so Jackie can rest. This is what he was meant to do.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, listen to me for a second. Focus on the little words on my little camera face.

Your brain is trying to protect you from something. It has noticed something and has decided that it’s a threat. It’s trying to help. What is it trying to warn you about? What’s the threat? What is going to happen to you?

Now, what evidence can you find—actual things you can observe or remember observing—that confirm that? What evidence can you find that contradicts it?

Your brain is trying to help you, Jackie. It’s just been through a lot and the wires are kind of messy now. The red alert button is the only thing it can find sometimes. You and me, we have to spend a bit of time trying to unravel the messages. What is your brain trying to tell you right now?

“That I’m a bad brother,” cries Jackie. “And when I’m bad I - ”

His own thought process stops him short suddenly. He bites his lip and stays buried low against Noodle, who just purrs enthusiastically.

“You’re not… a bad brother. I just got mad,” sighs Chase, picking unhappily at a peanut butter cracker. “Jackie, you’re like the toughest guy I know, but sometimes when we say little tiny things, you take them really really hard and think about them forever. The - the evidence, if that’s what you need, is that I told you I forgave you for what happened between all of us weeks ago, and I like you a lot, and I know you’re trying to take care of us. Look, you got me crackers and you’ve been looking out for us this whole time.”

Jackie sighs and sets his face to the side, calming down a little.

“All I said was that I didn’t want you touching him too much, and that was a little harsh, and there was nothing about you being a bad brother in there.”

“I make everyone angry,” mumbles Jackie. “Like that guy on the plane who yelled at me for kicking his seat.”

“Whatever, Jackie, he was a dick,” says Chase, scowling now. “He was probably just grouchy from being stuck on a plane like we were.”

“That’s all? You were just grouchy?”

“Just grouchy and worried about Henrik.”

Jackie scratches at his beard, nodding slowly. That does make more sense than Chase secretly hating him. But the truth is that the logic won’t do much to stop the self-hatred from burning into him later, cause Chaser is right - he takes everything too hard. It’s not something he can help.

“Sorry I’m a baby.”

“You’re not a baby,” laughs Chase, and it actually perks Jackie up a little just to hear him say it. “Dude, you just get a little freaked when you think someone’s mad at you. And, um. I get it, you know? Cause I know… I know what would happen when Anti would get mad at you. ”

Ah. There it is. Jackie and Chase go quiet again, kicking their feet against the pavement.

“Maybe we can talk about something else,” suggests Jackie.

“Sure,” agrees Chase wearily. “Yeah, sure.”

nikkilbook asked: I remember him bragging too, but I don’t trust that he was telling the truth anymore. He struggled so much to keep Marv’s magic at bay that I wonder how much he could do to a place like that. He bragged that he killed your cats, and I believe Max saw their bodies, but I don’t think I trust that either, because they weren’t ordinary flesh-and-blood cats. He used Athanasius’ name as a code word for Dap at one point, though I don’t know what that means. Basically, I don’t trust a word of what he said about anything, because he was a liar, even if he used statements that were factually correct. Anti always lied.

“He did lie a lot,” mumbles Jackie.

“Thought we weren’t talking about this?”

“But do you get that too?” asks Jackie, almost desperate as he whirls on him. “Do you get scared that you’re going to get hurt whenever someone raises their voice or snaps at you? Whenever someone moves too fast somewhere in your vicinity or you smell oil? Do you get that too?”

Chase stares at him for a second, mouth pursed with uncharacteristic reluctance. He turns away again, quietly clearing a leaf off Henrik’s shoulder. “Anti didn’t really hurt me like that, Jackie.”

“What?”

Chase shrugs, too interested in Henrik’s torn white coat.

“Sure he did. He screamed at you and kicked you around and smacked you. I saw him, lots of times.”

Something flickers through Chase’s eyes, faint and timid. He shakes his head a little, mouth taut.

Jackie turns away again, frowning. Dok always used to tell them that they shouldn’t challenge Dapper too much on his delusions if they were helping him cope. Maybe this is the same. Maybe he just needs to let Chase cope a little, and come back to it when he’s seeing a therapist or something.

“I get scared when I hear the rest of you calling out,” says Chase after a long moment, and Jackie turns back to him, wide-eyed. “You… nightmare in your sleep, Jackie, did you know that? You shout. And then I can’t move. Even if I want to wake you up. I just lie really still and hold my pocketknife and hide under the covers with Dok. Cause… that’s what I’ve always done. And I’m sorry for that.”

Jackie stares at him, head turned.

“I’m sorry that you had to be everybody’s protector and I just hid and stared out the window all those years.”

“Not your fault,” murmurs Jackie, as if on instinct. “Being able to protect any of you, even just for one night - that’s the only thing that ever kept me functioning, Trick.”

“Chase,” he reminds him gently.

Jackie blinks, nodding. “Right, sorry. Sorry. Chase.”

Chase brushes his shoulder gently and sighs out.

“Okay. Topic change again. That’s all I got in me for now.”

nikkilbook asked: For later, when you have the space in your brain and heart to think about this, this is what I gathered from what you said:

Threat: people are mad at you because you are a bad brother/person, and that means that you are about to be physically hurt or attacked.

Evidence for: when Anti lost his temper with you, he told you that you were being a bad brother, and then he punished you for it. When Trick was angry at you or scared of something you had done, he lashed out verbally and reinforced the idea that you were a bad brother.

Evidence against: Chase has forgiven you for what you did while you were trying to be Red, and has said that he does not believe you are a bad brother and that he knew some of your aggressive actions were actually to protect him and the others from Anti. Your actual brothers have never physically harmed you for being “bad,” unless Anti’s shenanigans were involved. Since you defeated Anti, no one has physically harmed you or “punished” you, unless they were douchecanoe xenophobic Robins in another timeline.

Conclusion: Anti punished you when you were bad by his standards. Anti is dead, and your brothers do not share his standards. Their anger does not result in physical harm or punishment. Nothing you have done has been out of malicious intent, regardless of whether or not it ended up backfiring in some way.

You’re a good person, Jackie, and a good brother. If you’re up to it, maybe talk to the others and find out what their boundaries are, so you know what their definition of a good brother is. It’s nice to know what the rules of engagement are, at least until you feel more confident in your new dynamic.

“Douchecanoe,” Jackie laughs, and you see Chase relax again at the sound of it, because when Jackie’s okay, everbody’s okay, and that’s been the way things have gone for a long time. “Huh, yeah… all written out like that, yeah…”

He pauses, picking at his beard. “Nobody’s… hurt me at all since he died.”

Chase gazes down at the ground, eyes dark. They look at each other a moment later and both try to smile.

Henrik glances between the two of them, patient in his silence. He’s picked his book up again at some point, and it’s open to the same chapter: Esteban.

“He’ll come back to himself when he’s ready,” adds Jackie after a moment.

Chase pushes a strand of hair from Henrik’s face. “I hope you’re right,” he says.

“What’s that book about, anyways?”

Chase shakes his head. “It’s sad. I don’t know. It’s about some people dying. It’s short and he memorized it the first time he read it through, but he still always kept it.”

“It’s about people dying?”

“Yeah… about some people who all fall on a bridge. And this monk tries to figure out why, but then it’s more complex than he thought. Cause even the good people had secrets and the bad people loved other people. And at the end… it’s just about death, I guess, and how you love people as long and as hard as you can even though you’re going to lose them some day.”

“Who’s Esteban?”

Chase stares down at the chapter. “Just… one of the people who dies. That’s all.”

Henrik’s fingers are resting against the word.

“I got to use the bathroom. I’ll run inside with him if you’ll watch Noodle. Be right back.”

“Hey, wait, just leave him with me,” laughs Jackie, touching Henrik’s shoulder - gently now, though, not plucking or teasing. “He’s fine for just a minute.”

Chase pauses, staring down at his twin, but after a terse smile, he goes inside. He knows Jackie won’t hurt him.

“Want me to read?” asks Jackie gently.

Henrik looks at him. He’s got those big starry eyes like Dapper has these days. Jackie tugs fondly at a strand of his ear and then leans over the book, and begins to read, slow and jilted. He isn’t much of a reader - always found the focusing and the spelling to be both impossible and humiliating, and literary devices escape him for the most part - but he’d read for hours if Henrik asked him to.

Or even if those big star eyes seemed to soften just a little as he spoke.

“On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below…”

“Dammit, Rojo, you promised me we would stay out of illegal shit. Promised me! If we get caught - ”

“We won’t get caught!”

“You are so wanted they’d ship us off to America or Italy or Peru before they could even figure out which one of us is which.”

“We don’t have the cash to stay anywhere else, Blue!”

The five of them found each other at the library two days ago and, exhausted from traveling, ended up crashing in an abandoned bus halfway across town. Jackie’s grateful it’s summer, but sitting cramped against chewed-up cushions and spending the whole night listening to the others try to convince Dapper that the bus was not, in fact, driving them towards Purgatory or about to fall in on itself was not particularly restful.

Then again, breaking into this house just because a couple neighbors told him that the Humphreys are out of town for a month or two isn’t exactly safe either if they get caught.

“Honey, focus, please.” Blue plucks wearily at the dog tags on his brother’s hoodie, his eyes hollow with fatigue. “Let’s just go back to the bus. That’s not breaking and entering.”

“Dapper needs somewhere safe and quiet, Blue. Hell, you’re the one who was worried he was going to attack the lady on the plane just for handing him a Coke. We all need somewhere stable. We need real rest.”

Chase and Henrik watch in silence as their siblings argue, Noodle chasing a bug around the garden nearby. Dapper is lying across Chase’s lap, eyes closed.

“We could spring for a hotel just for a couple nights,” suggests Blue. “Just until we can make some cash or find another place.”

“How are we going to make any money, huh?”

“We’ll figure something out, Jackie.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s not fight,” sighs Blue, touching his shoulder. “We’re on the same team. Let’s just ask the cameras.”

“Okay. Sure, yeah.”

Anonymous asked: Did we miss the flight? Well I guess it would be hard to keep cameras with you on an airplane. Where are you boys now?

“I don’t even remember what fucking city,” sighs Blue, rubbing at his head. “Yeah, we’ve been here a day or two.”

“We’re in Waterford,” says Jackie, moving towards the house despite their ongoing disagreement and beginning to inspect the locks. “Suburban neighborhood with a little space in between the houses. We can hide out here just fine. No sight of any magicians yet, thank God.”

“It’s not good if we can’t find anyone to help us get to the mirror dimension.”

“We can figure it out on our own.”

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, I just did some research—when you get to Ireland, try and make it to Malin Head on the Inishowen Peninsula, at the northern tip. (Hopefully there won’t be any UK Robins there, I don’t know how much magicians pay attention to colonial boundaries). Apparently that is the best place in Ireland to see the Northern Lights, and if I’ve got my realities straight, the aurora brings magic to the surface. Marvin may have gone to see it regularly before.

“When I was young, it felt so out of control. But I would come up here where the aurora summons all magic to the surface, and suddenly I could feel how it was a part of me… how it belonged to me.”

If that fails, try going to the University College Dublin, to the National Folklore Collection. You might be able to find naturally magical places that way. Look for fairy forts, raths, sidhe mounds, fairy roads, etc. I know Marvin’s magic isn’t exactly the same as the folkloric magic, but it might be worth a shot. Maybe look for ones near Offaly, where Jack grew up.

“See, maybe that could be something,” says Jackie, pointing back at the camera. “A library that might have info for us instead of talking to any asshole magicians. We could maybe take a trip up North sometimes. Although, right now we just need to get a little settled.”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: I say its too risky to try and break into a house. For now, at least. We don't want any run-ins with police or magicians

“Thank you,” sighs Blue. “Boys, let’s go back to the bus or find a hotel. I think there are even shelters in the area, if - ”

“You know how I feel about shelters,” snaps Jackie. “Too many eyes on you. I don’t care how sweet the nuns are. Someone will notice how off we are and then Schneep’s in the psych ward or people are asking too many questions - just no.”

“Okay, geez, I get it. Let’s just keep it in mind.”

“Blue, I said no,” says Jackie, louder now.

Blue stares at him for a second, eyes hard. After a second he scoffs and turns away. “C'mon. Let’s go.”

“No,” says Jackie. “No.”

Chase glances up at them, exchanging a look with Dapper a moment later.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, you doing okay? You’re repeating yourself, and getting a bit monosyllabic. I can see you’re looking out for your brothers’ wellbeing, and I’m really proud of you for that. Are there any other options we can talk through before actually breaking and entering, just to make sure you’ve covered all possible bases? If this is the only option then it’s the only option, and we’ll go for it. But we’ve still got some spaghetti in the pot that we haven’t thrown at the wall yet, we can take a second to see what what else might stick.

Blue lets out a deep breath, centering himself before he moves back towards Jackie and lays a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his sleeve. “I know you haven’t been getting much sleep and that you’re under a lot of stress,” he says. “But I’m afraid of what would happen if the cops found us and we could get a hotel or go back to the bus, okay? What makes you not want to do that?”

“Money,” mumbles Jackie. “And the bus is not… good.”

“Good? What do you mean?”

Jackie shakes his head, eyes focused on the lock on the door.

“What’s wrong with the bus, Jackie?”

“I want a house. I’m not… I want you to have… to have a house.”

“There are more important things right now, aren’t there?”

“No.”

“Is everything okay?” asks Chase.

“Yeah, fine, sugar,” sighs Blue. “Just give us a second. Look, the cameras seem to agree with me, and they usually lead us well, yeah?”

“Hmm.”

Anonymous asked: First off, this is great communication, I'm proud of both of you. Second off, Jackie, what is it about specifically a house that is important? Can you tell us that?

Jackie winces, shaking his head. Blue’s just looking at him and so is everybody else, it feels like. He drags his eyes away from his twin’s, rocking on his heels.

Dapper looks back up at the stars, blinking through a wash of memories.

He was Anti’s first in England, and they stayed in a small home in the country where Anti broke so many laws they eventually had to run even from non-magical cops. There was an apartment in Japan and then, gaining Jackie, they moved through Italy and parts of the surrounding world in villas and townhouses and once even a castle that Anti rented just for fun, cackling as he ran his hands over the ancient strength of the walls. A cabin in Norway and an old medical building in Peru, complete with a kitchen and bathrooms and beds. A mansion in California.

On occasion they would stop in a warehouse or spend the night waiting for an airport layover. But Anti always found them somewhere stable to stay soon enough, glitching out information to make it looked like he owned the property, paying for it with stolen money, or just over-throwing cameras to keep them well-hidden. It was a talent of his. Anti always found them somewhere stable to stay.

Jackie looks miserably back at his siblings. Anti was a monster, but he could always get them food and medication and security and a place to stay if he just decided to care. He doesn’t know why he can’t do that. He pushes at the door like it will swing open and welcome him inside.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, what is it about a house that is so important? What does a house have that a shelter/hotel/bus/tent doesn’t?

“Trying to be… good,” mumbles Jackie. “I don’t want to be a bad big brother anymore. And I hate that bus anyway. Scratchy and loud and there’s bugs and rain. I want - I want something to be ours. Mine. I just…”

He wishes Dapper had never taken him back in time and shown him that perfect little house where his whole family was healthy and happy. Where he had a room all his own and everything was neat and quiet and exactly where he wanted it. He just wants that now, now, now. He’s so tired of waiting when things never get better. He sinks down against the porch of the house, holding his head in his hands.

Blue sits down beside him.

“You told me things would be better after he died,” Jackie whispers.

“This is better!”

Jackie looks up at him, anguished.

And dammit, Blue can’t hold his gaze. He closes his eyes, letting his head thunk back against the door of that house, exhausted.

nikkilbook asked: I’m so, so sorry, Jackie. I’m sorry it isn’t better yet. I’m sorry it’s still so hard. And I’m sorry, but this house won’t be your house either. It doesn’t have your room, it doesn’t have things where you want them, and you’d have to be so careful about not leaving a trace of you and looking over your shoulder and hiding from everything still. It’s a house, but it’s not your house. And I’m sorry for that.

Jackie’s mouth tenses, his head tilted aside. He glances at his siblings just for a second. White bandages and a torn doctor’s coat. Hollow faces and circled eyes. Mussed hair and faded, worn-out shoes.

He thinks he understands why Dapper always used to call them ghosts.

He had hoped revelations like that would stop after they cut their infection out, but the wound that festered is still lying in their flesh, barely even wrapped up, still oozing blood. He wonders if maybe that wound will still kill them.

“Jackie,” says Blue, that firm, warm hand on his shoulder again. “Don’t get too deep in your head. I need you right now, okay? We - ”

Jackie gets up and breaks the lock in one vicious shove of his arm. Blue jerks back, mouth gaping.

“No, it’s not my house,” says Jackie calmly, dropping the broken handle. “But we’ll stay here for a couple days. Come on.”

“Ro!” snaps Blue. “Are you kidding? The cameras and I both said - ”

“I’m the one in charge!” screams Red, whirling on him.

Silence in the garden. Chase and Henrik stare at him with huge eyes. Dapper might be laughing, splayed across Chase’s lap, his chest shaking and a manic grin on his mouth.

“I’m big brother. I make the decisions. Not you. Not the cameras,” says Jackie, taking one cold step towards his twin. “So I want everyone to stop acting like I don’t know what’s right for them. I can be a better brother than Anti, fuck! I’m in control and you’re the caretaker. That’s what you do. So how about, instead of questioning me, you get my brothers inside and take care of them because that’s your damn job.”

Blue’s hands are clenched, his teeth gritted. He seethes even as his eyes water up. Jackie turns away from him, mouth only trembling for a moment.

“What if I don’t?” spits Blue.

“You will,” Jackie answers sharply.

He does not look back as he disappears into the house.

nikkilbook asked: Hey Jaimer, a thought for you: do our cameras have a viewport you could look through? Or ways for you to take a picture and what we see? What are we, like a GoPro or a DSLR or something? I remember we sent you a picture of a shaggy highland cow once, back in Peru.

If there is a way for that to work, the next time you see Anti, point us at him and take a picture. This might not work the way it works with other people’s hallucinations, since Anti’s code is part of why we exist in the first place, but it’s worth a shot.

And Jaimer? Next time he shows up, tell us what he’s doing. Specifically, tell us how he’s interacting with your brothers, if at all. And then tell us how you think he would have interacted in the past, before the forest. I almost wonder if having somewhere to write this down would be helpful. For science, ya know?

“I saw him just now,” answers Dapper dreamily. “Did you see him? He was yelling at my brother.”

Anonymous asked: Family isn't a job. Family isn't a cast list of roles to play and those roles only. Your decisions are your own but they make their own decisions too. Sometimes you need to make decisions together, and most often, you'll need to compromise. But forcing your decisions to override everyone else's in the name of family due to a familial "rank" ... That doesn't sit right, Jackie. What you want, what you need, and what you have might not align right now, but rash decisions and clashing amongst yourselves won't achieve those goals any faster.

“No, this is how things are!” shrieks Jackie, striking the wall with his palm and making Henrik jump. “That’s how it goes, that’s what we do, that’s what it is, don’t - don’t try to change every - just - you don’t get to tell me - ”

“Stop fucking yelling!” screams Blue, charging into the house after him. “You are scaring my little brothers!”

They stare at each other, both panting, stances poised. Jackie sucks in one harsh breath and turns to rush away from him, shoving into the first bedroom he finds and slamming the door shut behind him.

Blue shakes in the doorway, swallowing hard, tears dripping down his face. He turns to look back at the others. All three of them stare at him in silence.

“It’s okay now,” says Blue.

They’re all just blank-faced and quiet, looking at him or picking at the grass. He supposes they’re just used to it by now. Or at least that they know how to keep a low profile and bury their panic until it’s safe to let out.

Fuck, they are fucking all this up.

“Let’s go, guys, come on.”

And they get up and follow him in.

Anonymous asked: Oof. Jackie, I understand you're stressed and overwhelmed and things are bad... but maybe take a second look at that interaction. Not now, maybe, but just... at some point in the future. And just... remember that you're all more than your "roles."

“Yeah, not now,” whispers Blue, helping his brothers pick up their bags. “Not now. That’s why he ran off. Cause he knows he’ll just yell and get angrier, cause he can’t take it right now and he knows himself well enough. He’s just trying to protect us from his own temper. He didn’t mean to yell.”

“I think we have a lot of problems,” says Chase steadfastly.

Blue laughs weakly. “What gave it away?”

“But we don’t really work on them.”

“What?”

“We have to talk about all this at some point,” says Chase.

Blue closes his eyes, sighing. “Amata… Jackie really needs some structure. Once we’re settled - ”

“Yeah, once we’re settled, once we’re medicated, once we’re safe, whatever,” mutters Chase, sliding an arm around Henrik’s shoulders and walking towards the door. “I get it.”

“None of us are stable enough to have big conversations right now, Chase!”

Chase looks back at him, and Blue sees that frustration in him, that exhaustion. Blue reaches out, worried for him, and touches his cheek, letting their eyes meet.

Something odd happens in that moment. Blue isn’t sure what when he looks back. But Chase’s expression changes - his eyes blink and then glaze just a little, and his body relaxes, and his mouth goes soft and quiet.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Just… well, tomorrow’s another day.”

Blue frowns, drawing back from him as he moves towards the house. “Um. Yeah. Right. Tomorrow.”

Dapper’s at his side, looking up at him. “Something the matter?”

“What, on top of everything?” he grouses.

Dapper doesn’t answer, and Blue turns to him in apology, putting his arm around his shoulder in mimicry of the twins. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep. Doing okay?”

“Fine,” signs Dapper flatly, and his face is as blank as his signs, his body stiff and twitchy. Blue knocks their heads together for a moment, sighing.

“Tomorrow I’ll see about getting you to see a clinician. If our identities are in the health care system we can go right to an urgent care place. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, the difference between you and Anti, while it partially lies in powers, is that you chose to care. Most of the time Anti didn't chose to care for you all. He treated it like love and stability was something you had to "earn". You know that's not true though, I can tell. You want to protect them simply because you love them, and you care very much. You can do this, you're strong and resilient, and you love with all your heart. You can make it through this darkness, Jackieboy Man.

He’s tense in the darkness of an unfamiliar house, and he’s already awake by the time he hears the crying in his doorway.

“Blue… hey, I’m… I’m sorry…”

He rubs at his eyes, turning over to see the silhouette of his twin slinking towards him in the darkness and pausing anxiously at the foot of his bed.

“I know you are, Rose,” he sighs, making room in the bed. “I know. Come on, then.”

Jackie crawls into bed beside him and wraps around him like an octopus, still fully dressed, burying his face in Blue’s shoulder. He cries into his shirt for long minutes, contrite and exhausted, repeating apologies again and again: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not good at this. I’m a bad brother.”

“You’re not a bad brother. Just worn out. I know. I know.”

He’s run out of energy for anger. Honestly he isn’t even that concerned for Jackie right now. Too tired to feel much else but this deepset and painful apathy. He stares up at the ceiling and rubs Jackie’s back.

“Are we failing at this, Blue?” whispers Jackie after long minutes, when his crying has trailed off and his breathing is steady. “Weren’t we supposed to save them from all this? Wasn’t that the plan?”

Blue doesn’t know what to say.

“We’ll get through this, Ro,” he answers finally, because you don’t always have to believe in comfort to pass it on. “We’ll get through the darkness.”

They spend the night side by side.

nikkilbook asked: Jaimer... which brother was he yelling at?

There’s a figure curled around a mug on the back porch of the home, blowing carefully on his tea as he waits for it to cool. “Does it matter?” he signs shortly, setting the mug beside him. “He’s always gone again when I come to. Or look through the cameras, like you said…”

He picks up the little camcorder and gazes out at the trees, one eye pressed to the sight. “See? Now all the monsters are invisible. Just talking to me, that’s all they do.”

nikkilbook asked: Hey Jaimer—do you remember in Peru, I think right after Christmas, after Jackie got in trouble, when your meds were still super weird? I remember you playing a game with yourself and talking to Bro Average, and you kept talking to/about your brothers and saying they were ghosts, that Anti had killed them. That’s why you got so upset with Red at the gas station, because you felt like he had killed Jackie, that he was more Anti than Jackie now.

When you see Anti now, what happens to your other brothers? Do they stay and he’s separate from them, or does he take their place? Is it like at the front door just then, where he was yelling at your brother? I believe that you see him. I believe you more and more each time.

I have a thought that I’m still putting together, and I was wondering if you remembered.

Dapper pauses, staring away from you. His blue eyes have morning light in them. He takes a pensive, tired sip of his tea, steeping the bag up and down, up and down, before setting it aside again.

“I don’t usually see him as himself. He doesn’t appear with a bleeding throat or mismatched eyes or the black clothes and gauges. My proud, vain twin. Sometimes he comes to me like that when I’m alone, but usually… no, I don’t see him like that.

I can’t tell where he is, you know? He’s hiding somewhere. Under someone’s skin. He whispers to me all the time so I know he’s close. But where is he hiding? He changes. Somedays he’s wearing Blue or Red or Trick or even Dok, when he’s quiet, and I see his eyes fixate on something cold or very red. But mostly I think he’s in all of us, and if he really wanted to make me hurt someone, he could still do it. I’m not in control. Just voices, and I can’t find JJ under Dapper and Anti and Carver and all the other monsters who have eaten me up over the years. I think JJ did die. I’m not sure if the others did - Jackie and Marvin and Chase and Henrik. Sometimes I see them, but only acting sometimes like themselves, and sometimes it’s Anti pretending, so who’s to say? Everybody’s always talking to me. Sometimes Red is right beside me but Jackie is yelling in my ear, screaming that he’s going to save me, that he’s going to save the both of us, that we’ll go home. But the radio is so loud too…”

Dapper rubs at his forehead for a second, expression vaguely pained. “I’m losing it. I’m losing my mind again. I always do. Crazy Dapper.”

nikkilbook asked: Have you ever heard the poem “The Future”? The poet, Neil, he talks about all the irrational things he’s done because of his mental illness. That particular poem he mentions being bipolar, but in a different poem he mentions schizophrenia. There’s this one particular stanza that has always stuck with me—

They keep telling me seeing things that aren't technically there

is called "disturbed cognitive functioning." I call it

"having a superpower." Once, I pulled over on the 110 freeway

and jumped out of my old Jeep because I saw it burst

into flames twenty seconds before it actually burst

into flames.

I’ve had this theory for the last several months, or maybe since I first heard that poem years ago. I’ve heard that part of schizophrenia is that sensory information goes in, something scrambles, and a completely different message makes it to the “this is what’s what” part of the brain. And I’ve wondered, what if the message that comes out the other side is still trying to tell you something about your environment that is rooted in reality? Like, if my sensory receptors smell smoke or oil or hear something or see something, and my brain can’t figure out how to translate that into Swahili so it just starts pantomiming and trying to get the point across by coming up with a visual hallucination.

And I don’t want to be the reason you completely clock out from reality. It’s like I told Jackie—if my brain sends a red alert, it is trying to warn me of something based in reality, but that doesn’t mean that reality actually warrants a red alert. I just wonder what it is you’re noticing around you that influences what you see.

We know there’s an echo of Anti left behind in us. We’ve seen him. I made him disappear in a poof because he’s been reduced to a couple of pixels and the emotional maturity of a toddler. He has no power in us—he can’t turn us off or direct our gaze.

But I think maybe there’s an echo left in each of you, too. And sometimes it comes out.

“Sometimes my delusions and hallucinations are pieces of real warnings,” Dapper signs gently, the wind brushing against that slightly-overgrown hair at his nape. “Maybe sometimes I do see pieces of him still alive in them. A part of me would like that, but I usually see him in anger, mocking me, shouting, losing his temper, making threats. I guess when you come down to it that’s the echo he left me.”

It burns in JJ’s eyes for a second, angry and hurt.

“I always knew he was a monster. But he was the monster that was real and tangible and predictable in a sea of terrors I could never get a read on. Because some of my hallucinations and delusions and psychosis - they come no matter how safe and cared for I am. The big red monster who stares at me from the closet, the birds that pick at my face and my legs in my sleep, the over-powering paranoia that everything in the world wants to hurt me - they don’t connect to anything. They’re just my brain. Just my psychosis. Just my demons. And those won’t leave me even if I could convince myself my brother is dead.”

A bitter sip of his tea, full of sugar. He closes his eyes.

It’s now that pounding footsteps come racing towards the door, and Blue races out onto the porch, yelping as he almost trips over his youngest brother. “Dapper! Red’s gone. Have you seen him? Oh, fuck.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, JJ, be kind to each other and be mindful of each other. You're both dealing with Anti's death in very different ways, and it could result in arguments or in-fighting, when what you both need most right now is a brother to be there for you.

“Blue,” signs Dapper, tugging on his shirt as he tries to race away from him. “Wait, wait.”

“What?” snaps Blue, whirling on him. “What, where’s my brother?”

Dapper sinks in on himself, his expression torn somewhere between timid and dangerous, a unique cocktail he’s perfected over the years. “He just went for a run, Blue. He’s fine.”

“Oh, so I have to break into a house when he tells me to but he’s allowed to go off for a run without telling anybody whenever he wants?” shouts Blue, advancing on him. “How does that fucking work, huh? Tell me that, Dapper.”

“He told me,” signs Dapper, shrinking away from his sibling.

“I mean someone who could do something about it if he was in trouble,” Blue shoots back.

Dapper looks away, burying himself in his tea. Blue stands shaking for a moment, his hair askew and his face still lined with pillow indentations, before he glances down at your message and feels guilty. A deep breath enters him automatically and he sinks down on the porch, sighing out again as he sits.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says.

“You did,” answers Dapper calmly. “You’re right. I’m useless right now.”

“Dapper. You’re not.”

“Yeah? What am I good for then?”

Blue stares at him, face heated with embarrassed regret. “You don’t have to be good for something, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby!” signs Dapper, striking his hands together hard. “I’m not your goddamn baby!”

They fall into shocked silence, both surprised by their own behaviors.

“Sorry,” whispers Blue after a moment.

“Me too,” signs Dapper. “You and Red just have such bad tempers lately.”

“I… I know. I’ll try harder.”

Anonymous asked: Chase is right though. There are so many issues plaguing your family right now, you're all exhausted, traumatized, messes. You need to talk things out when you get the chance. Holding back all these feelings from each other will only drive you apart and make things more difficult. Check up on each other and be willing to listen. I know it sounds like a broken record, us cameras, but maybe the reason for that is that some of us know a thing or two about healing, and we care about you in a way that makes us want to help. You boys need each other badly. Don't let your family be torn apart over miscommunication and hidden emotions.

The door behind them creaks meekly open and a tousled head of yellow-brown hair appears behind them.

“Guys?” asks Chase softly. “What’s the yelling about?”

Blue beckons his little brother forward, and of course Henrik follows after him, eyes lighting up a little at the wind and the smell of last night’s rain. He tries to walk down the porch and Chase pulls him gently back, sitting him down on the swing chair and rocking them both along, until Henrik’s gaze is fixed on the movement of their feet.

“How’s he?” asks Blue.

“Mh,” hums Chase, carefully re-adjusting a bandage on his twin’s cheek. “Slept good. Bruises fading a little. Does not like waking up to fighting, though. It makes him shake.”

Blue closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe you were right.”

“About what?” asks Chase. “What, me? What was I right about?”

Blue chuckles, running his hands over the smooth wood of the porch. “I guess we all need to talk, huh?”

Chase glances at Dapper, who hides against his tea again, blinking up at him.

“Okay,” says Chase. “Let’s talk.”

nikkilbook asked: My dudes, Not-a-Therapist here, but in all honesty—you need some kind of first step. You’ve got plans that are twenty miles down the road, and I don’t think you even know WHICH road. You’ve got a couple milestones here and there that might maybe point you in the right direction, but you don’t have a first step. Which is why you are in someone else’s house with a busted doorknob now.

I’m seeing two threads here: get your brains screwed back on right, and get to your mirror house. They’re interconnected, but I don’t think you should wait on one before you start on the other. You need some kind of first step, something that will point you even vaguely in the right direction.

I don’t know, maybe you AREN’T in a space where you can have huge heavy conversations, but you can have small ones. Chase and Jackie had one like a day ago. You need professional help, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start working on some of this yourself.

I’m worried about what will happen if you don’t. You’ve each got a little Anti left inside you, I think, and I don’t know what happens if you don’t figure out what to do with it.

“I think that’s a really good idea,” says Blue, getting to his feet. “We need to know where we go from here. We need a plan.”

He moves into the house even as Jackie appears down the path from the trees, fully hoodied and gloved even in the heat, the heel of one of his torn old running shoes flapping beneath him. “Hey,” he calls, surprised to see them all up and together. “What’s going on? See you made yourself at home, Dap.”

Dapper sips vengefully at his tea. “You’re the one who broke in, mister. And this is real tea. Finally.”

Jackie laughs and pats his head as he passes, meeting his twin in the doorway, his face ruddy and bright from the exercise and the freedom, still as refreshing as it was the day he burned his faux brother to ash. “What are we doing, Azul?”

“We’re talking about our plan from here, honey,” says Blue, plucking at his twin’s dog tags for a second before sitting down on the steps beside Dapper again. He’s fetched a few napkins and a pen. “We want to decide at least our first steps for what we need to do for ourselves and what we need to do to get back home.”

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” says Jackie, plopping onto the swing beside Henrik and Chase. “I got a plan.”

“And what is that?”

“I got some ideas,” says Jackie, frowning slightly. “We can talk about it together, just the two of us.”

Blue blinks around at his brothers, but nobody else protests.

Anonymous asked: Uhhhhhh you sure about that 'just the two of us' bit, Jackie? I mean, we're trying to stick together, right? Y'all are a unit, you need to work with each other.

Jackie throws his hands up for a second, glancing uncomfortably around and you and his siblings in turn. “Blue, can we talk about this for like, two seconds?”

And Blue’s mad.

Blue’s mad, so mad it hurts in his chest, so mad he recognizes the emotion, a moment later, as pure grief for something Anti took from his brothers.

Why won’t Chase or Dapper say anything when Jackie does that? Why didn’t they say anything yesterday when he and Jackie were arguing about where to stay without asking them once what they wanted to do? Is that part of the reason Henrik is so far away from them now, because no one was listening anyway? How long did it take Anti to convince the youngest three that they couldn’t make their own decisions?

“No, Jackie,” he says, meeting his eyes directly. “No. We’re all in this mess as a family, so we’re going to deal with it as a family. Why are you so opposed to all of us figuring this out, huh?”

“Blue,” says Jackie, a little sharper. “Please just come talk to me for a second.”

“Why don’t you tell your little brothers why you don’t respect their opinion instead of expecting me to keep your secrets for you?”

“I respect - ”

“Do you?”

“Fine!” shouts Jackie, striking the swing so hard that Henrik grips the armrest tight. “I’ll tell them if you want! All three of you are too fucking fragile, alright? All you should have to do right now is heal because you can’t handle anything else! Chase and Dapper have both tried to fucking kill themselves in the last year and Henrik is barely even there anymore! You’re broken the fuck in half and I’m not going to stop taking care of you now just because he’s gone!”

The silence is so deeply strained that Blue is surprised that all five of them don’t break out into a cold sweat. The birds sing and they glance at each other, stare at the wood of the porch, or pretend the others aren’t there. Jackie keeps Blue’s gaze, too long, too intense, before crumpling back against the swing, closing his eyes.

And Blue just wishes - Chase, say something. Dapper, say something. Henrik, wake up for a moment, please.

But Chase is quiet and Dapper drinks his tea as Henrik rocks himself, gently, on the swing.

“I’m in charge,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “I am, I make the decisions, I’m in control. Blue helps. But the rest of you… fuck. Please just get better. Please. Cause I can’t watch you collapse in on yourselves again. I already… already lost Dok.”

“Not lost,” whispers Chase.

Dok rocks. Rocks. Rocks. Smiling faintly, his eyes faraway.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, everyone needs to be in on this. You’re all brothers—and, if I may be so blunt—none of you are actually twins. That was an invention of Anti’s to make you codependent. There is no inherent division between you, and everyone needs to be equally involved in what the plan is. And it’s not just the “find the house” plan, here. It’s the “find out who the heck y’all are now” plan. You’re brothers, and you’re equals. You’re all adults, capable of making decisions, and you all deserve the agency to make those decisions, especially after who knows how long with Anti taking that away from you. You know this, Jackie. It’s just like with Jaimer at the airport. Just because you’re big brother and you’re looking out for them doesn’t mean you get to control them or keep them in the dark. Remember, Jackieboy—you love by telling the truth.

There’s a slight rearing back from the camera from the four oldest, while Dapper just fixes his haunted eyes on you, mouth taut.

“Hey, hold on,” laughs Red nervously. “I am Blue’s twin. Always.”

Blue chews on the end of his nail, looking at the grass. “But not literally.”

“What’s the difference?” snorts Red, shaking his head. “We don’t remember anything before Anti reset us and we’re pretty much identical.”

“But so are all of us,” adds Blue.

“Look, this is the way things are,” says Jackie, his anger turning more and more rapidly into distress. “Why are we trying to change things? You’re my twin, and Dok and Trick are twins, and Dapper’s the little brother, okay? And I make the decisions when Anti’s not around. That’s how it goes. That’s how it goes!”

“Ro,” protests Blue. “Look, I know you got used to us living one way, but it was a monster who taught us to live like that.”

“I don’t care,” snarls Jackie, his eyes starting to burn. “I don’t care, that’s - that’s how things are. That’s how they are!”

Blue rubs at his face, shaking his head. The others are beginning to notice something wrong now too, Chase laying his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. Jackie pushes him away, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“You’re just parroting things Anti told us,” says Chase. “I don’t think you even believe that I’m too dumb or broken to make my own decisions, and I think you already knew we weren’t all biologically twins. I think that’s just the way things have always been.”

And Jackie does not like change. Blue grits his teeth as Jackie strikes the swing a second time, scaring Henrik again.

“Jackie, you have to stop. We can’t keep doing this day after day. You have to stop. I don’t know what to do to help you be less overwhelmed. I know making change is hard but - ”

“Stop telling me what to do,” protests Jackie, his shouting turning into whimpers. “Stop, stop. That’s not how this goes.”

He clutches his head, eyes squeezed shut. Chase reaches for him again and Jackie shoves him away, drawing a gasp out of Henrik.

“Stop cause you’re scaring Dok,” says Blue firmly. “Jackie, take a break.”

Jackie seethes through his teeth, eyes still closed, and for a second Blue thinks his brother is going to lose it again, lashing out, wild and out of control, but Jackie just sinks to his knees on the porch and curls down over himself, his forehead against the wood, bowing to the forest and hugging his knees.

“Okay, let’s just breathe for a second,” whispers Blue. “Okay. We’re okay.”

nikkilbook asked: Not sure how else to say this, but yes, you are messed up. That would be the trauma. The pathways and frequencies in your brain have been significantly altered because your brain has stored a whole mess of memories in unhealthy places, and that’s on top of the atypical wiring your brain already had. Regular stimuli goes in and who the frick knows what’s coming out the other side. It’s hard, and it’s upsetting, and yeah, it’s messed up. It’ll be okay—we’ll make sure of that—but that doesn’t make it less messed up in the moment. Jesus rose on the third day, but he was also kinda dead for the other two.

“Do… you guys really think Dok is just… lost?” asks Chase weakly, when long minutes of slow breathing have passed, and the wind has been the only one speaking.

Blue opens his mouth with optimism, because it’s his job to comfort Chase, to reassure him, to make him feel better -

No. That was his job. Now he’s his equal. His sibling. His friend. And maybe he needs to be a little more honest, not just for Chase’s sake, but for his own, because he thinks this despair might just eat him alive if he keeps it in any longer.

“No.”

He sees the movement of Dapper signing in his periphery and blinks as he realizes that a moment of silence from him and Red has allowed their youngest brother to speak.

“No, he’s still Dok. Henrik. He’s still him.”

Chase blinks at him, moved more than he thought he would be. “Really?”

“Yeah,” knocks Dapper a little shyly, shrugging his shoulders. “I know what it’s like to just be stuck in your own head. To be stuck in your room or in your catatonia or in your fear. But it’s still you. You just have to do what you have to do to protect yourself. Dok hid because he was strong enough to find a way to protect himself. He didn’t give in. He hid, but that’s not weakness. Sometimes all you can do is survive another day.”

Jackie hears himself let out a shuddering breath. That’s something he understands, at least. Sometimes all you can do is survive, even if you fail at every other thing you wanted to do and be. Even if you can’t even speak or take care of yourself or connect with the world anymore. Survival is strength too. Henrik is surviving.

Chase touches Henrik’s chin gently, trying to get his attention, fleeting though it might be, and Henrik gazes back at him, quiet and calm. There’s no message in his eyes and no words in his mouth. But after a long moment, his hand rises slightly and, as if by instinct, presses against the muscles of Chase’s shoulders just like he always used to do, to ease his pain through the long night.

“I do still see him,” murmurs Chase. “But I’m just scared that… maybe he’ll be like this for the rest of his life.”

Jackie has slumped back against the door to the porch, exhausted.

“I guess we’re all pretty fucked up right now,” Chase offers weakly, and faint laughter comes from his siblings, all gathered together.

“We’re all a little messed up,” says Blue. “Even big brother?”

Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“And maybe everyone should have some help making decisions, not just little brothers?”

Jackie tries to smile for his sake, looking away. “It’s going to take me some time to get there, if that’s what you want.”

“I know you want the others to be allowed to be themselves again,” Blue entreats him, scooting closer to him on the porch. “What if that starts with us letting them make some of their own choices? Even if you are a good leader - and dammit, Jackie, you are, you really are - we still have to make sure that we don’t do what Anti did. We have to start seeing each other as equals again. As capable despite what we’ve been through.”

“Then I’ll do it,” mumbles Jackie, but under his breath, he adds: “It might just kill me, but I’ll do it.”

“Maybe this is what it is to be dead for three days before you can rise,” says Dapper. “For all of us. Darkness before dawn. Or winter before spring?”

“And a beautiful summer afterwards,” sighs Chase, looking out at the green trees and cool sky.

“Well,” Blue says, clicking his pen and settling himself down there in the middle of all his brothers. “If Dok is this way forever, then we’ll take care of him. But in the meantime, I think we should try everything we can. What if we just started our plan - our one step - with what Dok needs. That’s something we can all work on together, right? One thing we can do this week for Dok, and what we should aim for in the future. What do we think?”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: Well that's... a lot. But, believe it or not, I think it's good to get these feelings out in the air, even if this wasn't the most... delicate way of going about it. And please, please take care of yourself, too, Jackie.

“I want to stop scaring Henrik,” says Chase, sudden and loud, and when everyone looks at him, he sinks back again, squishing his shoulder to Henrik’s.

“Like… the yelling?” asks Blue.

“Yeah, like the yelling,” sighs Chase. “And the hitting stuff when we’re angry. And being loud or angry around him. I know he seems so spaced out - I know that - but I can tell he still gets scared. Last night when it rained, he was thrashing around and crying, and I could just think about him abandoned out on that porch, chained up in the rain or the heat while the bugs ate at him and Anti just… attacked him again and again.”

Chase turns away, teeth gritted, pressing his face against Henrik’s shoulder. His brother rocks, rocks, rocks, and for once - for the first time in a long time - everyone else is quiet as they wait for a brother to speak.

“So I wish we could stop the yelling,” continues Chase meekly, when he’s ready. “And the lashing out. And fuck, Jackie, I know you try so hard with your temper, man, and Blue, I know you have some shit going on too, and Dapper sometimes gets a little out of control when he’s psychotic or triggered, but guys, we just have to set down some rules, cause this is too much.”

“I don’t like the yelling either,” Dapper adds. “None of you listen to me when you’re yelling. Sometimes you won’t even look over because you can all be loud and I can’t, not like that. Everyone stops paying attention to me. And it’s hard enough for me to keep track of everything I hallucinate hearing when things are quiet, let alone when everyone’s screaming. So I think that when we’re angry, we should sign instead of speaking out loud. When we start to get angry at all, we should sign. Less scary for Dok. Less loud for me. Easier to stay calm for everyone.”

Jackie is staring at Dapper, eyes wide. The look in his eyes could, at first, be mistaken for awe that his little brother could contribute like that, or shock that he spoke up at all, but if you look at him closely, you will see that look for what it is - recognition of a brother he has met once or twice before, clever, competent, talented Jameson. The same man who cleaned him up after a gunshot wound in Colombia or lead him carefully through a past he had forgotten or shared his pain for so long before they found the others.

But there is still the fear underneath. How long until he loses himself again? When will it become too much for him? I have to protect him so I never have to see him in pain again.

And operating within the system Anti forced onto them is the only way he remembers to do that.

“Dap,” says Blue. “That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” says Chase.

And Jackie’s little brothers all look at him, because despite the temper, despite the fear, despite his desperate clinging to the system he was taught with blood and pain for so long, they still trust him to be their leader.

Fuck, he would die for them in a heartbeat.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a really good idea. Please remind me if I get angry and forget to do it. I’m sorry for my freak-outs. I love you all.”

nikkilbook asked: Hey, guys—have we considered giving Schneep an AAC board? Like, nothing too terribly complex, maybe just yes and no to start with, but I have a feeling. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, it’s like parts of his brain and personality and fine motor skills have gone to sleep, for protection, but he still responds to certain things including the cameras. I looked it up, and Esteban, from his book, is a twin who lost his brother and whose well-intentioned choices always seemed to backfire. I think he can still recognize things on a conceptual level. He may not always use it, but it gives him the option of a voice.

“Does he still respond to things?” asks Blue. “You said he was scared of the rain.”

“Yeah, he responds to, like, stimuli,” says Chase, frowning. “But I don’t know about communicating. He doesn’t nod or shake his head when I give him options or anything like that. He kind of smiles at me when I talk to him sometimes, like he can tell someone’s talking to him, but he just doesn’t know what they’re saying or what’s going on.”

“Well… maybe we could start with more yes and no questions,” suggests Blue. “Try to get him back in the habit of responding. And then maybe a board with pictures? And we can do things like give him options and show him the options? We need to get him responding again if we can.”

“If we think the problem is that he’s still hiding because of what happened to him, then we need to get him feeling safe again,” says Jackie. “Which means having enough to eat and finding a stable home.”

“Those are kind of long-term things,” says Blue. “Is there something we can do right now other than signing instead of yelling?”

“I say we stop beating around the bush and skip to the obvious,” says Jackie stubbornly. “He needs a brain scan and a psychologist. I was planning to take him as soon as I check that we have fake identities set up in the health care system. And that those identities aren’t, you know, going to get us arrested when we show up.”

“Can you do that today?” asks Chase hopefully.

“Sure. I’m already in the wifi. Only thing is I’ll need to use that, uh, phone.”

“The one that was in Anti’s room?” asks Blue nervously. “It could still have stuff of his on there.”

“I know,” sighs Jackie. “But I don’t have any other means of checking and we can’t afford a new phone right now.”

“It’s important that we get some health care, for sure. Just… be careful, okay?”

“Won’t the doctors be suspicious of all his cuts and bruises and everything if we get him checked out?” asks Chase.

“That’s a good point,” says Blue. “Cause we all need physicals. None of us are in great condition. Jackie at least has been working out.”

Jackie perks up from his weariness for a second, puffing his chest up a little and sitting up.

“We can all go to different doctors. That will help ease suspicion.”

“But… what do we tell them about all these scars and injuries and everything?”

nikkilbook asked: it’s weird, Jackie probably wouldn’t tell Chase or Henrik if they asked. But he’s looking at his little brother and thinking about how Jameson was taught not to speak about this sort of thing and that affection and support are petty and ridiculous and stupid, and he feels like he owes it to JJ to look at him as his complete equal and give him the full truth.

so he just melts

and starts telling JJ everything that’s on his mind, everything that scares him, sinking in on himself, knowing he looks weak, and JJ gets this bizarre though “huh, we’re actually the exact same height, I always thought he was taller than me??” and then five minutes in they’re going “oh, i totally feel the same way sometimes” and “wow i get that too and it’s like i want to yell at my brain to stop freaking out because I KNOW how stupid it is - ” “ - but I just can’t! yeah, exactly! what the FUCK, brain??” and they’re kind of laughing and kind of shaken and kind of have never trusted each other more and eventually Jackie falls asleep against JJ’s shoulder and Jameson gets to be the one who’s on watch, who’s on guard duty, waiting for Chase to come home and Henrik to need him and making sure that Jackie’s okay. and it’s empowering for him as a person, and teaches him a lot about healthy coping and friendship, and he’s never been more devoted to Jackie, because while Anti demanded this overwhelming adoration, Jackie is willing to trust JJ in return. and JJ recognizes it, immediately, as a better kind of love than anything Anti ever asked for - love that shares, trusts, validates, love that knows how to show weakness sometimes.

Jackie’s eyes fall, ashamed, while Blue and Chase continue to exchange options. For a moment, he looks up, and there’s Dapper looking at him.

“Do you really think that I’m too broken to be my own anymore?” Dapper signs, and Jackie realizes that there’s nothing accusatory in the question, nothing demanding. He’s really asking.

Jackie bites his lip, looking away again.

“Dapper… it’s my job to look after you. You’re so sick… could you live on your own right now?”

“Could you?” Dapper answers.

Oh.

Jackie sits back for a second, blinking.

Oh. He couldn’t. No.

He stares at Dapper, open-mouthed, and his little brother stares back, grief in his eyes.

“So what’s the difference then?” asks Dapper wearily.

Jackie rubs his face. He has to decide if he really wants to say what he’s thinking or if he should let it go. But they’re trying to be honest, right? Is that a form of love? Is that a form of equality?

“Dapper,” he signs. “I helped kill Anti. You didn’t.”

Pain flashes across Dapper’s face, so intense that Jackie almost reaches out to keep him from collapsing. But Dapper just jerks away from him and turns his head.

“Dap,” Jackie demands, snapping for him to look. “Dap, I just - I just need to protect you, okay? And you’re not well right now.”

“You think I don’t feel that too?” asks Dapper, eyes shining now, damp and watering. “Don’t you know that for more than a year now all I have wanted is a chance to take care of one of my brothers? To take care of anyone? But I was stuck all alone in that room, helpless to even hold you, listening to you all scream and beg and suffer. Don’t you know how much it meant to me when Anti let me look after Chase after his attempt or when you let me bandage you when you were shot? Oh, God, all I could do was pray and survive! Jackie, do you know what I would do to have the privilege of being the big brother for just ten minutes?”

Jackie is speechless. Jackie is silent. No, he didn’t know.

“Jackie,” whisper Dapper’s hands. “Red. I don’t know if I can take care of myself or make good decisions anymore. Maybe after so long being treated like a baby, I just forgot how. And maybe I need a lot of help when I’m unmedicated. But I know one thing for sure - if you don’t start believing in me, I don’t have a chance in hell of making any progress if you want to make me your little locked-away, safe-from-the-world baby brother like Anti did.”

“I can’t see you get hurt again,” whispers Jackie, forgetting to sign now, dropping his hands. “I can’t. If I have to lock you away…”

He remembers handcuffing him in Colombia. The betrayal in his brother’s face. The grief. And worse than the grief - the acceptance of his fate. Worse than death.

“Let’s talk about this now when you’re medicated,” signs Jackie, sitting back. “For now, please let me take care of you.”

“For now, I don’t think I could do much else.”

“Okay. Kiss, hug, love.”

“Love,” Dapper signs back, forgiving. “Love, love.”

nikkilbook asked: You told Jaimer you were going for a run. You trusted him to let the others know, and to do something if something went wrong. You can let him and the others be the big brother in small things, too, like be the shield between you and a crowd when you’re overwhelmed or watch over you when you need to lie down and let the world stop for a second. Big brother doesn’t have to mean “the one who’s in active danger all the time so that the others are hidden behind he-who-is-nothing-more-than-a-shield-of-ablative-meat.” Sometimes it just means “he-who-is-doing-the-hugging.”

Jackie keeps watching Dapper even as he turns back to Blue and Chase’s conversation. He can’t focus now, not on anything but this.

It’s true, he supposes. Anti is gone. No one is here who will force him to be their shield, their protector, the attack dog. It’s freedom again, the same as when he goes for a run in the morning without being scared that anyone will punish him for it when he goes home.

But this does not feel like the running does. This is the other side of freedom.

Because if that isn’t what big brother means, then what does it mean?

If that isn’t who he is, who is he?

Too much. Too much, too much. This is not how things are supposed to be. This is not how things are. He leans back against the door and watches quietly as his brothers keep talking, distressed every moment that they will not let him make the decisions for them.

nikkilbook asked: Do you know if it would help for, when your “regular” monsters are attacking, to tell us about it? I get the feeling that maybe the others would put more of their energy into trying to tell you that they aren’t real, or that you’re safe, and from what you’ve said and what I’ve seen, that doesn’t seem to be what you need? Cuz you’re smart, Jaimer. You know they aren’t the kind of real that your brothers can see or the kind of real that will leave physical marks on your skin. But that doesn’t really matter, because they are your current reality. Maybe you can tell us about the red man and the birds and what the monsters whisper to you, and if you need reassurance that they aren’t the hurt-you-kind-of-real, you can look through our viewport.

And can you let us know what Anti whispers to you? And what he says while he is wearing the others? Because I think you might be the only one to be seeing that reality clearly.

“Okay, so for Dok we have: seeing a neurologist, letting him make some easy choices if we can, and keeping the fighting… less intense. Right?”

“Right,” says Chase, who seems to have taken a liking to the list idea, curled over Blue’s shoulder as he writes on the little napkin. “Yeah, and talking to him, just don’t talk to him like he’s dumb. He’s still there, he’s just sleeping, kind of.”

“Okay,” agrees Blue, ink seeping onto his knees as he writes against them. “Dapper, what do you think you need?”

“What?” Dapper’s drawn out of his conversation with Jackie, turning back to his siblings.

“What do you want for, like - like what’s the plan for you, you know? We’re going to go through with everybody, okay?”

“I just want my medication.”

“What, that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll get an appointment scheduled once Jackie’s checked that we’re in the system. We can get that. But don’t you want to work on other stuff?”

“I can’t work on anything while I’m unmedicated.”

“That’s really not true, honey,” protests Blue. “Come on, how about telling us when you’re hallucinating?”

Dapper shrugs, closing his eyes.

“You don’t think that would help?”

“No.”

“Dapper, come on - ”

“I just need my medication,” he signs, slow and whining, looking up at Blue with those big eyes and long eyelashes, his mouth pouting. “I just need my - ”

“How about working on the fact that you still act like a fucking six-year-old?” snaps Blue, clicking the pen shut.

The childishness falls out of Dapper’s face. His mouth twitches coldly, his eyes narrowing, and he smiles, just a little. Or maybe sneers.

Blue turns away from him. He’s not guilty, not yet. He just can’t look Anti in the face like that.

nikkilbook asked: Hey, JJ—I think you’re right, we’re in addiction territory. I’m not an expert or a professional, but I did learn recently that with some drugs it’s insanely dangerous to quit cold turkey. Is there something we or your brothers could do to fill the gap until you’re a little more even-keeled and ready to make a decision about who it is you want to be?

“Just get your infant brother his fucking meds, how about that?” signs Dapper bitterly, getting to his feet. “Oh, and by the way - this isn’t me breaking down. You wait until I snap in half, Blue, and on that day you can turn away from me like I’m something you killed a long time ago.”

“You’re not going to snap in half,” mutters Blue, his irritation overwhelmed by his desire to be able to help his little brother, because he has to, because he loves him, because that’s his job. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“I want my brother,” cries Dapper, throwing his head back for a second. “If he’s going to talk to me all the time why can’t I just have him? Why’d you kill him, you just took away the touch of him…”

“I’ll get you your meds, Dap. I will. Okay?”

“I want my brother… How are you all going to control me when I’m really sick? Somebody has to be around to control me.”

“You can figure this out on your own with a little help,” says Blue. “Just… please help me make some goals here, okay? Please.”

Dapper stares at him, eyes hollow. Chase makes a face at him from the swing, mouthing a little plea of his own, and Dapper sinks back onto the porch, tired.

“I just want medication and to be left alone, okay? Don’t you know how much safer I feel when somebody else is… look, I just… can’t do this, can’t think, I’m tired…”

Blue bites down hard on his mouth, eyes flickering to the ground. Fuck, he couldn’t express in words how much he hates it - watching him grieve Anti, watching him act the way Anti taught him, seeing the remnants of him in his little brother. The truth is that lately, he doesn’t think he would even know what Dapper would look like or act like or speak like if he ever got rid of that influence on him. He thinks he would be a lot less fucking pathetic, that’s for sure. How can he goddamn stand to keep acting like this?

“Okay, fine, okay,” he says, because he’s the one who makes the decisions when it comes to their brothers being okay, and he knows Jackie will leave this to him. “We’ll talk about it more later. And if you just kind of need to keep pretending nothing’s changed for a while, okay. But we’re going to have to start facing this, and soon. Would you just - dammit, Dap. Can you just tell me why you even cling on to this version of yourself?”

Dapper stares off at the trees, face cool again.

“He still calls himself Blue,” laughs Anti from somewhere beside him, close as he ever was, mouth next to his ear. “He’s projecting because you two are the only ones who remember the day I killed every other version of yourselves that ever existed.”

Anonymous asked: "Big brother" has been tainted and coded by blood and pain. All of you need to unlearn many survival behaviours, but unlearning the 'big brother' system is one of the most important. You need equality and to treat each other like capable adults. None of you are above the other. Rebuild your brotherhood with good things and happy memories. You've all changed, sure, but you never had to stay the same. Make yourselves anew and build off good things! Change should be welcome and good.

“Do you want to do some goals, Jackie?” asks Blue.

Jackie meets his eyes and knows he needs him to have his back on this one. Okay, get it together. “Right,” he says. “Uh, yeah, sure. I know I got shit to work on, I always have. I just think that when my temper’s getting out of control, I just need some space. So please don’t try to follow me or anything. I’m going to figure out how to control this, but right now I just need to be gone when I’m mad. Because I never want to be… yeah, well. I’m going to get better at it.”

“Okay, yeah. We can do that, right?” asks Blue, and Chase gives him a big smile in agreement.

“Sure, Blue.”

“Thanks, angel,” purrs Blue, squeezing his wrist fondly.

Jackie fake gags and rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I also just want to keep working on the material stuff. I’m going to keep trying to find us some housing and I’ll keep food on the table, okay? I’m going to get a job!”

Blue blinks, hand falling from Chase’s wrist. “Whoa, what?”

“I was thinking like something in technology,” says Jackie. “Doesn’t have to be something fancy, we just need to get some money coming in.”

“I thought we were filing for unemployment,” protests Blue. “Maybe even disability for Dap and Dok. There’s good benefits around here. You don’t have to get a job right away, Jackie.”

“I’m going to,” says Jackie. “What are you talking about? I’m going to take care of it. I don’t want us to have to worry.”

“Well, I’ll work then,” protests Blue, sitting up straighter.

“We both can. Sure. Maybe together! I’m going to go look for jobs later. And a safer place to stay.”

Blue’s mouth feels dry. He doesn’t know why it makes him nervous. Chase sets his chin down on the top of his head and he laughs weakly.

“I just - they’re right about the big brother stuff, you know? You don’t have to - ”

“I want to,” says Jackie. “I thought you knew I wanted to do that? I want a job.”

“Um. Okay. Okay. I’ll put it on your list, then. I… yeah.”

Jackie nods firmly, uncurling from the ball he was in and smiling again. Chase looks at Blue, a worried little grin on his mouth.

“Maybe Ro’s not the only one with some big brother issues,” he mutters.

“Hey, I’m not being overprotective,” Blue grumbles back. “You keep your cute mouth shut.”

Chase laughs. “Okay, dude, whatever you say.”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: A bit of a tone issue there, Marvin, but I do agree with the concept. Dapper, acting like a kid has helped you with Anti, we know. It's a coping mechanism that's served you well in the past. But it's going to cause problems in the future. Medication is good, but it won't help you with that particular issue. And Marvin: you lash out a lot. It can hurt people. We need to acknowledge both these things in a more peaceful way before we can work on them.

“I wouldn’t lash out if you just - ”

Chase thwacks him gently in the back of the head and shuts him up.

“Hey, I think that’s really fair, saying that,” Chase agrees. “If we can come back to it for a second. A coping mechanism. Because that’s… what it becomes. As someone who’s… been where Dapper was, if not for as long. You act - you act how you have to act to get even just a mouthful of attention…”

“But - but Anti’s gone,” protests Blue. “How long will it take for that to set in with him?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure Dapper knows that,” replies Chase quietly, dropping his voice again. “So just cut him a little slack. It’s, um. Really hard to wake up from that.”

“I was just thinking about that,” laughs Jackie. “Like when Dapper’s acting kiddish it pisses you off, Blue, but then Chase is just your lil Amata, haha. You don’t want Dapper to be a baby but Chase just acts like he’s Trick again when you two are hanging out.”

Chase and Blue both freeze in unison. Chase jerks back from Blue, staring at Jackie.

Anonymous asked: I know change is absolutely terrifying Jackie, as a fellow autistic person I know that it can feel like hell. Your brothers need you to loosen the reigns. They need to be able to think for themselves. In Peru at one point, someone asked JJ what would happen if Anti was gone. He said "Red would become the new Anti." And frankly with the way you're headed you will just become the new Anti. Give your brothers freedom to choose for themselves, like Anti never did. Be everything he wasn't for them.

“Wait, what?” shouts Red. “You said that about me? Dapper?”

“I’m not still acting like Trick,” whimpers Chase, sinking back against the swing. “I’m not, I’m - I’m being good, I’m - ”

“Amata, stop it, guys, we need to sign if we’re going to get mad or Dok will get stressed - ”

“Dapper? You think that, you really think that about me, is that - hey! Look at me at least!”

“Guys - ”

“And yeah, Chase, you do, man, come on, I thought you knew that? You don’t let Dok out of your sight and you’re still pretending like everything’s fine. You think we don’t all hear you crying your heart out at night? Then you’re just Anti’s little sunshine boy again in the morning.”

“Red! Fuck you! That’s - ”

“Don’t call me Red!”

“Okay, okay!” screams Blue, and the porch splits open as bitter milkweed bursts up from the ground. “Stop it! That’s enough hard truths for one day, just - Jackie, alone time, that’s what you said you - ”

“Yeah, I guess it is better for me to be alone,” shouts Jackie, his eyes burning. “Since you just think I’m going to - that I - fuck, don’t you know I’m sorry, I - I’m going for a run.”

“You just went for a - ”

“I said I’m going for a run!”

And he’s off like a shot even as Blue is distracted by Chase grabbing Henrik and rushing back into the house, wiping at his face frantically.

“Chase, honey.”

“I’m not your honey, Blue!”

The wind parts the grass. A cuckoo bird repeats its trill again and again. A car passes by.

Blue slumps against the door, rubbing his face.

“Well, that went great,” he whispers.

Dapper’s still there on the stairs, his head lowered and his hands clutching his ears.

“Come inside, Dap,” whispers Blue, moving towards him. “Hey, come on.”

“If I go to my room, I won’t ever come out again.”

Blue’s chest aches. He closes his eyes and presses his palms into his face, feeling almost faint.

“You do get mad at me but not Trick,” signs Dapper slowly. “Because you don’t like me.”

“No,” cries Blue, sitting down beside him. “Hey, don’t say that. I love you. Dapper! I love you, I love you.”

And he wants to hold him like he holds Chase, to grip his wrist or stroke his hair or hug him or anything, anything, but he just - he just doesn’t.

He just can’t.

He realizes a moment later that Dapper can’t either, because his pale, scarred hand is hovering in the air like he might just touch clasp Blue’s shoulder -

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

And Blue doesn’t know why, but he realizes that in the end, it might just be true, this contradiction, this bitterness, this tension in the air between them. Because he loves Dapper, yes.

But fuck, does he hate him too.

Revulsion and grief wash over him in waves. Dapper stares at nothing, face dark and empty. Just the broken thing Anti left behind. Just the brother Blue didn’t save in time.

He gets to his feet and he disappears into the house.

Dapper sits in the wind. He does not move for a long time.

#chapter five

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acourtofthought · 2 years ago

Note

To be fair, I think most people believe the 3 brothers/3 sisters thing will happen and that Az and Elain will have a forbidden romance because most authors would do that. They don’t pay attention to SJM’s patterns or the fact that she’s established in pretty much all of her books that mates are THE happy ending. They think she’s gonna be doing “revolutionary” shit by having Elain “fight destiny” by rejecting Lucien. It’s also why they’re bending over backwards trying to make him seem like a villain/almost abusive to Elain and why they’re ignoring how obsessed Az is with having a mate, not just a wife, and that’s where the true mates/two mates theories are coming from. Which makes 0 sense - mates are not given when one turns fae because that rarely happens… they are BORN, they’re not all humans turned fae.

Conversing/arguing with them isn’t worth it, tbh. Zero reading comprehension, not to mention how many have admitted to skimming the books. Though if they’re only reading “E/riel” parts, they can finish the whole series in 5 minutes.

I've definitely seen forbidden romance before but usually it's not forbidden because the guy all but admitted to the girls brother in law that he just wants her for sex as well as refusing to confirm he's over the woman he loved for centuries. Forbidden love only happens when there is love and a couple wants a future together ("he hadn't gotten that far in his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself too") and when both people are aware they have to keep their relationship a secret. I highly doubt Elain is going to let Rhys tell her who she can and can't date and if she were to confront him, I think she'd find all the things Az said (and didn't say) PRETTY interesting. So yeah, no forbidden love here. Though I've never seen 3 brothers with 3 sisters. I've heard of twins marrying twins but honestly, it gets a little weird beyond that. To me, it feels cutesy in a way that's a bit strange. It's almost funny how much they try to tarnish Lucien. He is confirmed as one of SJMs favorite characters (and that means something considering she gags when people talk about Tamlin, a character that can actually be called abusive). She's setting him up to be more powerful than Az, she definitely makes sure that we know Lucien has not resorted to violence towards his family or Graysen while also reminding us that Elain doesn't like cruelty. Trying to turn Lucien into something he's not only hurts the arguments they try to make.

#pro lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #sara j maas #elain archeron

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1800nosleep · 2 years ago

Text

Bird Song Headcanons

headcanons for lydie, vinnie and the rest of the main characters !!

warnings;; vinnie is vinnie, swearing, cig smoking and alcohol drinking, parent deaths, drug overdose (parents), child abuse, vinnie being the best older brother, normal outsiders warnings,

VINNIE

vinnie is so AHHHHHHH

best way to describe vinnie is malewife

he cooks, he cleans and he takes care of lydie

if im being honest, i based him off of darry if darry wasnt constantly on ponys case

but anyways

vinnie was born vincent frank rockwell on june 18th, 1945 in tulsa, making him twenty years old at the beginning of the story

he is older than lydie by four years

he works at a cafe on the west/northside and is a barista

he is a neutral greaser, he doesn't fight in rumbles but he hangs around Tim and Buck and Veranno (his hcs are further down)

vinnie has some pretty terrible childhood trauma, from witnessing his mother overdose from a prescription pill to his father beating him and lydie

he started smoking cigarettes at the age of twelve, he calls them cancer sticks and exclusively smokes menthols

he thinks they make him better than everyone else

70's! vinnie would absolutely love the doors, jimi hendrix and all of those artists/bands

70's! vinnie moves to california and tries to live out his hippie, stoner, runaway fantasies

anyways

vinnie is dating a neutral chick from the west/north side

maude monroe, a twenty-year bartender at buck's

vinnie and maude are always hip to hip when they're together

vinnie is absolutely obsessed with her

he helps her dye her hair platinum blonde and he will bend over backward to make her happy

that being said lets talk about maude

MAUDE

MAUDE IS A GIRLBOSS ICON

she was born lara monroe on february 7th, 1945 in New Jersey, to her single mother, who worked in a bar when maude was younger

maude had changed her name to maude in memory of her mother, maudie

she moved to tulsa after her mother passed and the idea of still living in Jersey made her stressed out

BUTTTT once she moved to tulsa she met vinnie and lydie at one of buck's parties

she dresses in a minimalistic greaser style

she adores marilyn monroe, audrey hepburn, bette davis, and all of the og girl bosses

she and vinnie have dressed up like holly and paul from breakfast at tiffanys for halloween at least twice since she has seen the film

maude and angela shepard are bffs

absolute besties

if maude isn't with vinnie, she is with angela

70s! maude and vin get married after they move to cali

70s! maude gets into very cringy and shitty horror/ thriller films and she dresses very similar to stevie nicks

maude and lydie defo smoke weed together

they hotbox in maudes and vins stolen chevy impala

anyways let's get to lydie

LYDIE

our main bae

alr first things first

bae is an angry, angsty sixteen yr old who was born on august 29th, 1949

she and vinnie have always been super close especially once their mother died

lydie is in tenth grade with ponyboy, she and pony have study sessions

anyways enough of that boring shit

lydie listens to nina simone, julie london, ella fitzgerald, billie holiday and most of the music greasers listen to (not saying that the greasers listen to nina, billie, or any of the people I listed )

lydie will say that she loves one song and then go back on that and claim she loves another song, she cannot decide what her favorite song is

her fav song is april come she will by simon and garfunkle

she is a very smart person, like she and pony are some of the smartest greasers regarding book smarts

she is definitely one of the more responsible greasers

she isn't respectful to authority but she is more kind to others compared to dallas for an example

anyways

she mostly hangs around pony and johnny with the occasional dallas and soda

SPEAKING OF DALLAS

she and dallas have full-on brawls

dallas will say something completely buck wild and she will fucking go off on him

throwing punches and slapping and just a full-on beatdown between the two at least until they're broken up

vinnie or darry pull them apart and make them apologize

lydie and dallas have a very complicated and complex relationship

lydie will say she absolutely fucking hates him

and dallas will be like "shes so wonderful"

its his mommy issues

its fine tho cuz ultimately they fall in love after a near death experience and lydie is like "nah im just in love with what he did" but in reality...

she is in love with him, period.

also read dallas' hcs right here

alright last but not least, lets talk about veranno

VERANNO

my sweet baby

veranno is literally the dirtiest and most raunchy greaser out there

he is always in and out of jail, constantly getting into arguments and fights, and he's never quiet

never a relaxing time with him

veranno was born veranno gerard bianco in new york on april 27th, 1945 making him twenty years old

he is an orphan who was never adopted or cared for

he hangs around anywhere, in alleys, in ditches, in vans

he is everywhere

he mostly hangs around vinnie and his friends when he isnt in jail

like dallas, he has been in jail for squatting and breaking in several times

lydie writes to him all the time, especially when his stay is longer

he travels a lot, he visits nevada and arizona a lot, just to get away from tulsa

regarding what music he's into, he exclusively listens to chuck berry, elvis, and all of those fifties artists

he makes fun of people when he overhears them listening to bob dylan, the beatles or simon and garfunkle

he thinks they are "pussy musicians"

lydie will defend them so hard

dallas is very jealous of veranno and literally no one knows why

most people think it's because of lydie and how close veranno is to her

but dallas will deny it every time its brought up

anyways

last but not least

veranno has a big soft spot for children

when he was a teenager (13-15)

he babysat this rich families children and these children changed him

he treated them like they were his own

i luv veranno sm

thank you for reading !!

likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not steal my work or repost it anywhere as for that is plagiarism and that my friends is a crime !!

#the outsiders #🚬 dallas winston #♠️ the outsiders #anyways enjoy my hcs #the outsiders headcanons #my ocs are my babies

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loganofthenorth · 10 months ago

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It’s…

It’s hard when one of the people you loved the most…

The person you were most afraid to lose;

Turns into the person that cost the most

Grievance.

The person whom now you refuse

To call family.

My Oma loved lighthouses, wine, and shopping.

She spoiled us rotten, and lived a happy life of luxury and love.

She was one of the reasons I believed a happy life was possible.

Oma kept secrets for us and helped me with problems I couldn’t bring to my parents.

Despite being rich for so long, she was always humble.

She was kind, generous, polite.

She’d always listen to my stories,

And when wrong made things right.

She loved my Mom to pieces.

The only thing that ever made them fight;

Was when Oma wanted to do the dishes.

When she was diagnosed with Alzheimers… I knew to be afraid.

I was prepared. Prepared because my great grandmother went through it too.

I prepared myself. In case she forgot me

Forgot my parents

Forgot her mother was dead.

I was prepared to help her remember to take pills,

To listen to her and help her with the changes she was going through.

I wrote and published my first book so that she could see me start the career she always knew I’d achieve.

But now…

Oh, how could I have foreseen this?

I feel so rotten.

I’d rather be forgotten,

Then hate the person she’s become.

She’s forgotten lessons she’d learned,

Lessons like not to judge a person by their colour.

Lessons like women don’t have to remain in the kitchen.

She’s forgotten she isn’t rich anymore like she used to be.

Forgot that Opa spent that money on surgeries and vacations.

She refuses to believe he would do that.

She sometimes forgets that she likes us.

She has dreams her mind tells her are memories,

And then hates us for them.

Well, I say us.

Maybe that’s the worst part.

I say us but it’s not all of us she hates.

Through it all she’s always still loved me.

I should be grateful, but how can I?

When she makes life harder for my mom now than it already was,

And my Dad does everything she says

Even if it follows a four year old’s logic.

My brother leaves his room and meets a passive aggressive, miserable woman snapping at him.

A woman that used to buy him his Pokémon Games and gave him his first bicycle.

She threatened to call the cops on my father once.

Thought he took money which she never even had.

He could have lost his job.

My sister could have lost her house to pay the money Oma thought she had.

Now my father’s Uncle is involved

A man I never knew is being abused by his wife

We think they think they’ll get a lot of money in the Will…

Money Oma doesn’t have.

I thought this year,

This incredibly long year,

Would consist of playing board games, sharing stories,

and overcoming difficulties

with someone I held dear.

Now instead I hide in me room,

Listen closely out of fear.

I don’t trust my unfiltered lips,

I don’t think I can avoid causing ruin and doom.

This complex feeling,

A hatred and guilt,

A grief for someone that’s still alive

But dead to me.

It feels like a phantom lives in my house.

I have to act as if they’re alive.

When she dies I’ll have so much regrets…

But despite my career of make belief,

Despite my ability to hide from my grief,

In real life situations where the truth needs to bend…

I’ve never been good at playing pretend.

#grief #mental illness #vent poetry #poem #poetry #long post #writing #mental health #writer #alzheimers #complicated emotions #death #tw alzheimers #tw grief #guilt #coping with grief #coping

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yandereforme · 8 months ago

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Part 4: Green home

You first met Izuku midoriya when you were nine and he was ten. Izuku was hiding in the park from Bakugou when he heard heavy breathing and jumping sounds coming from nearby.

He quickly saw you trying to reach a bag that was stuck up in a nearby tree. Izuku had climbed it often enough that it wasn’t to hard for him to retrieve your bag.

Then, you hugged and thanked him, jokingly calling him your hero (stupid move). You then introduced yourself and explained that you started school next week at Aldera, as your new foster family already had kids who went there. It was your foster brother who put your bag in the tree.

You and izuku quickly became quite close. Izuku adored you, constantly encouraging you and relishing in your trust of him(I see you as being shorter than him, upping the protective behavior).

Even after you were told his quirk status, you didn’t care. You continued to partner with him on projects and sit with him at lunch. You always complimented his books.(you didn’t know how many notebooks he filled that were all about you.)

You came over to his house about a month into the friendship, and Inko adored you. You were sweet and polite and a great friend to her son.(she saw you as a daughter, and when you accidentally call her mom? She shed many happy tears)

Izuku finds out how bad things are between you and your foster brother when you are 11 and Izuku is 12 (two years before canon, and two years after meeting)(you are only a few months younger than him, like he was born in July and you in October kind of thing)

He is running from Bakugou and his cronies when he stumbles across you being surrounded by three older boys. Izuku sees you, bruised and battered, barely conscious, as your foster brother kicks you in the stomach and goes FERAL

When Bakugou and his follower find Izuku, they expect to see the weak nerd hiding or crying. Instead, they find Izuku bashing your foster brother’s head in with a book. Both of your foster brothers friends are already unconscious and bloody. When Izuku whirls around, even Bakugou takes half a step back at the feral look in his eyes.

“Izu…. Please…” You murmur, barely conscious, only registering the green hair. Izuku immediately bends over and picks you up, and you snuggle up to him as he takes you home bridal style.

Before he leaves, he smiles at Bakugou and puts a finger to his lips. Bakugou nods, and after Izuku leaves, has his extras swear to stay quiet.

Izuku hated the way many people underestimated him as a quirkless kid, but for once, it was useful. No one would believe that the older boys had been beaten to the point of being hospitalized by a small quirkless loser.

After you woke up, with the combined pressure of Inko and Izuku’s tears, you confessed how your foster parents encouraged the abuse and even participated in it.

Another good thing about being quirkless? People dismissed you a lot. And Izuku had always been smart. So it wasn’t hard to get your foster parents arrested and manipulate the courts into letting you stay with his mother, who had acquired her own foster license months ago (after the third time you came over late at night, unwilling to go home. Inko was optimistic, yes, but she wasn’t stupid.)

(Inko had always wanted both a daughter and a son. Izuku had always wanted a little sibling to dote on and protect. You fit perfectly, all kind and soft and sweet. Why would they hesitate)

(You needed them)

Edit: sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Life is sucky and I’ve had zero motivation, but now my muse is screaming. Side note, do you guys want all platonic for this or a romantic yan as well?

Bakugou interlude

Bakugou was pissed the nerd wasn’t willing to give him his all, but he knew enough not to say anything, espec after the old hag told him auntie Inko adopted the girl. And if he wasn’t bothering the nerd as much? It was just because auntie didn’t need more stress

(The old hag had always told him the Midoriya’s loved fiercely. He never understood until the alley.(That was a lie. He remembered the time a teacher hit the nerd and auntie found out. The teacher went missing days later and the nerd didn’t go to school for a week. He remembered the look in Aunties eyes when the old hag asked about it. It was the same look as the alley. He never wanted to be looked at like that again)

Mha Yandere series

Part 1: The dawn of quirks

You are the younger sibling of Yoichi and Hizashi Shigaraki(Yoichi is five years older, Hizashi is ten years older)

Yan! Yoichi

He’s more possessive than obsessive

Sees himself as your savior from Hizashi

Will try to take you with him when he leaves

Manipulative(gentle)

Won’t let anything be your fault(and if it is, he will blame Hizashi for teaching you to act like that)

He knows how controlling Hizashi is, so will let you do things as long as he comes with

Will sabotage any relationship you get into (platonic or romantic)

Is easily manipulated by cuteness

Thinks of you as his cute cheerleader, his sweet angel of a little sibling

Doesn’t understand how unhealthy and hypocritical he is

Yan! Hizashi Shigaraki

He sees you as a precious baby

Will refuse to punish you, but will take away anything that could ‘corrupt’ you

Will spoil you (he starts getting into crime when you were five, became big boss when you were seven)

Manipulative (forceful)

Is very controlling

Will only let you leave the house as a treat (will never let you leave alone)

Isn’t as easily manipulated as Yoichi, but has a weakness for you acting cute (calling him Hizanii will make him melt)

Has cameras all around the house

You will only do online school

You knew early on what Hizashi did for work. You pretended not to know, but you did. You always knew your brothers fought when you weren’t around, but would never fight in front of you. You learned to be a little manipulative early on, which let you get away with some free time.

When Yoichi leaves, it’s like a game of keep away. You are always being fought over like a toy. They will not openly badmouth each other, but they will slip in jabs at each other you pretend to ignore.

They didn’t know you were there during their big fight. They didn’t realize until they heard you cry out in pain. By the time they got to you, it was too late. They wept, as brothers, over your body. They would fight again another day, and they knew it, but for now, they mourned their sunshine.

Hizashi didn’t notice the sparking of a quirk inside you. If he did, he might have realized his dead little sibling wasn’t quite as gone as they thought.

Edit: please let me know in the comments if you want me to continue this.

#yandere #yandere prompt #yandere bnha #yandere izuku midoriya #Yandere Inko midoriya #platonic yandere

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akiizayoi4869 · 3 years ago

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On the topic of Azula, Ozai, and abuse.

One of the things I've noticed when it comes to how Azula's character is discussed in the fandom and by the writers themselves is that there is this popular belief that she wasn't abused by Ozai. Which I've always found to be bizarre since the show gives us evidence that she absolutely was abused by her father, just not in the way same way as Zuko.

In the show, Azula is seen as the golden child of the family for her excellent firebending skills. She is constantly propped up by Ozai as a way to put Zuko down. What a lot of people don't realize is that this is in fact abuse, and it's abusive to both Zuko AND Azula. Sure, Azula more than likely loved the praise she was getting, but that praise was disguised as abuse.

(I'm sorry for using the comics but this one part is actually relevant to what I'm talking about here). When Ozai says this to Zuko right in front of Azula, we see this as verbal abuse. It's abuse towards Azula as well since she is the one Ozai is using constantly to put Zuko down with words. When you abuse one sibling in front of the other, you abuse both of them.

Azula is portrayed as being a perfectionist in the tv show. Some people see this as her being power hungry. When that actually couldn't be farther from the truth. Her perfectionist personality comes from abuse. Because she saw what happened to Zuko since he wasn't perfect and he was considered to be weak. He was burned by Ozai. Right in front of her. Which in it's own way was a warning to her. "This is what happens to failures, and those that are not perfect. You must be perfect at all times if you do not want what I just did to your brother to happen to you." That's what that told her. So when we see her perform lightning bending in the first episode of book 2, and this happens

Her saying "almost isn't good enough" wasn't because she craves power to the point where a single hair out of place is something that she won't tolerate, it's because she knows that she HAS to be perfect at all times, otherwise she ends up like Zuko. Burned and exiled. And to her, Ozai was the one family member who seemed to care about her. And if she couldn't please him, then that meant that he wouldn't "love" her anymore. As evidenced by this scene here

That is what we call conditional love. Which is another form of abuse. As long as your abuser finds you useful because they know that you will do whatever they tell you to do without question, they will give off the illusion that they actually do care about you and love you. But the minute they don't have anymore use for you? They toss you aside like yesterday's trash, as if you never meant anything to them at all. Which is what Ozai does to Azula on the day of the comet. That can fuck with a person's mind. Because when they see that the one person who they thought loved them actually didn't, that says to them that they were loved by no one all along.

So the point I'm trying to make here? Is that Azula was abused, just not physically and verbally like Zuko was. She was mentally and emotionally abused. Just because we don't see it happening on screen like we do with Zuko does not mean that the signs aren't there. Because they very clearly are. This is something that quite obviously the writers don't understand: just because you are the golden child, does not mean that you have it easy. The golden child can be abused too. Not just the child who is seen as a failure. There is more than one type of abuse.

#atla #azula #zuko #ozai #abuse mention #physical abuse #emotional abuse #verbal abuse #mental abuse #azula meta #ozai's a+ parenting #princess azula #azula deseved better #akiizayoi4869 meta

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iwritesometime · 3 years ago

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Stout Hearted

Chapter 1

(Adj): having a brave heart

Hanma x older sister reader

Warnings: mentions abuse,neglectful parent, bruises,blood.

Age:9

"You're going to be a big sister, so promise to care of him okay?"

(Y/n) remember the day, her mother announced that she would be getting a little brother. She was really excited to be an older sister, she always clung onto her mother and had been following her around since the pregnancy was announced.

She rushed home after school every day to go help her mother around the bouse, she didn't want her mother to overwork herself or the baby.

(Y/n) remember the gloomy weather on the day Shuji was born,she hated the thunder and the rain. She still does, it reminded her of the day everything changed. She remembers the bitter scent of the antiseptic lingering in the air, it was clean. It was busy with nurses running up and down, people talking and whispering.

There was so much blood

"Do you wanna go get a snack?" The sweet voice of the elderly nurse brought her back, (Y/n) shook her head her hands gripping onto the bench "Is mom going to be okay?"

A sudden wave of nausea hit the young girl, trembling hands moved to rub her teary eyes "w-what about Shuji? Will he be okay?" She needed to know, the room felt suffocating. Her hearted ached and she couldn't breathe. She didn't remember much after learning about the loss of her mother, other than waking up to a baby crying.

She rushed off the bed, stumbling as she ran to the crib. He looked so small laying there crying "it's okay shu... Nee San is here"

Age:10

She never understood how a parent could hate their own child, Shuji didn't have anything to do with their mother's death. Ever since her mother passed, her father spent most nights working or he was out with his friends. Yes she struggled with school and Shuji but she preferred it this way, her father would leave Shuji crying and would scream at him if he wouldnt keep quiet.

She remembered the first night he came back angry, the anger was directed toward Shuji this time. (Y/n) had gotten into a physical fight at her school when the boy kept on saying how she and her family were cursed. What caused her to jump the boy was when he brought Shuji into the mess and blame him for the curse. She didn't know how but in a matter of seconds, she was on top of him throwing punches. That night was the first time she witnessed her father's true anger.

She moved Shuji to sleep with her that night and the two of them celebrate his birthday, locked away in her room. She curled up around him while reading books to him, petting his head to help calm he down after the events of the day.

Shuji remembers the first time he had gotten into a fight, he didnt care about the rumours or insults that the kids whispered about him. What triggered the boy was when an older kid grabbed the lunch (Y/n) made for him. He promised her he would behave and eat his lunch, the boy and his friends laughed.

He remembered how his sister rushed into the office and apologised bowing down to the parents and teachers. She endured every insult while bowing and keeping her pose, the poor six year old feared that he may have upset her. That she would she that he caused nothing but trouble wherever he went.

"Are you okay Shu?" She asked bending down to his height placing a hand on his head "You cheek is swollen..." he should have know that she wouldn't have been upset, she never showed any anger towards him. "Can you tell me why you hit him?"

" ...."

"Shu?"

"He throw my lunch... "

She let out a soft sigh flicking his forehead which earned her a glare and pout "...idiot"

He shouldn't have caused trouble, he promised to be good. This was his fault, he watched with tears as (Y/n) continue to stand infront of him

Blocking their father from getting close to him, she looked determined and refused to move. "I WARNED YOU TWO NOT TO CAUSE TROUBLE"

"..I told Shuji it okay to stand up for himself"

He hated his father, how he seemed to hate the two of them, how he never bother to check up on them. He despised how kids in his class had caring fathers and received hugs from their mothers. He hated that (y/n) had to work to care for the two of them, she was always busy making sure that there was food. She didn't hang out with friends like other girls, she always made sure to be by his side.

(Y/n) had a reputation around school of seeming cold and distant, she didnt want to risk involving anyone with what was going on at her house. That when a boy started following her around asking her questions after she pulled him out from getting hurt in a fight. He had some ridiculous hairstyle and walked around acting like a delinquent.

"So what class are you in?"

"..."

"...are you in any clubs?"

"What's going on with your hair"

"Eh! I think it looks great"

"It looked stupid "

He let out a gasp grabbing his heart, she shook her head at his behaviour. The ringing of her phone brought her back. "Hello"

"I'm sorry, I'll be right over " She hung up and turned towards the boy. "I'm sorry I have to go, stay out of trouble" she said before running off.

"Wait I never got your name!" Called Shinichiro out watching the girl run off, he huffed pouting he didn't get the mysterious girl's name. She was definitely interesting and he might have to ask Takeomi about the girl. Maybe he knew her?

Tagging:@erisamorette @wakazu @taijuswhores

@amajikisupremacy @sumebreaks

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x you #tokyorev x yn #hanma x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #shinichiro sano x reader

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

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Vaincre

It’s here!! Thank you all for the support of this universe, it truly means so very much to me. Every time I get a comment, or get to read the fan fiction you all write, see the art you create...it just fills me with so much joy. I’m so excited to share the Sweater Weather sequel with you, Vaincre! Go Lions!

cw: brief mention of past injury and past abuse

part i: July

I’ve been holding my breath

I’ve been counting to ten

The media wasn’t kind. There were network shows and blogs. Magazines and papers and podcasts. Not to mention Twitter.

Remus had heard his name on all of them, even if he wasn’t listening. It was part of Alice’s job to make sure he knew what was being said about him. It was his job to tune most of it out. Some outrage. Some elation. Some confusion.

This is my question, one podcast asked. I mean, I’m happy for Black. Lupin, too. I’m happy for the hockey world to have this happen, it’s about time, I mean, tune it, come on, and all that.

I’m confused about the, you know, ‘let’s put the PT on the roster.’ I’ve seen college clips, like, those have been released, we know that he got injured, we know all that. He’s fast, we know that, too. But a lot of guys are fast.

Just…what a move by Coach Weasley. A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus had always loved to run. It cleared his head. It had been one of the forms of exercise he had been able to do first once his shoulder had healed, before weights or any sort of strength training. His therapists had recommended it. Endorphins, they had said.

But Remus liked it because it was the closest he had been able to get to gliding on the ice, even when he still couldn’t stand to even look at a rink.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus was used to not knowing. He was beginning to think he thrived on it. Would he play hockey again? Would he ever find love? Would Sirius want him?

Was this really happening?

He didn’t think of dreams as coming so late, but, then again, why should dreams be put on any sort of time schedule?

Now, he banged out the screen door and onto the rickety, well-loved porch of the lake house that had been passed down through his family for years. His mother and her brothers split it up in the summer, overlapping for a week or so, and there were always little gifts left behind for each family at the trade-off. A bottle of the best maple syrup, or some of the local honey. They were small, but Remus smiled when he saw what his uncle and aunt and cousins had left for him and Sirius after his parents and Julian had given them the month of July with the house to themselves. A little flower arrangement with two hockey sticks, carved out of wood, sticking up in the middle.

Sirius had plucked one from the dirt, twirled it over in his fingers, and smiled.

“Your family will never stop surprising me.”

Green Lake was deep, prime for fishing, and gorgeous. The smell of the water, of the soil and sweet summer air was as good as home to Remus. He breathed it in now as he bent to lace up his sneakers. He could smell the fire pit that they had lit last night, one that he and Julian had roasted thousands of marshmallows over.

“I showed Jules how to roast the perfect marshmallow here,” Remus had said that first July night, leaning back against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius had blew out his burnt-black one. “Like this?”

Remus had scoffed. “No, you heathen.”

Sirius looked good here, surrounded by the woods and rusty cabin, wearing the old fleeces that never seemed to leave this place for when the sun had yet to warm the chilly mornings. Some mornings, they’d make their coffee, tangle their socked feet together on the small couch until the sun began to get high and they’d strip it all off in favor of swimsuits and sunscreen. Other mornings, Remus would rise, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’ sleeping face, and take to the dirt road that ran around the lake.

Sirius, just off of the hard won playoffs, needed to rest. Remus needed to train.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

They would leave in two days for Pascal’s Cup Day celebration, and then to meet Remus’ parents, his little brother Julian, and Regulus back in Gryffindor for Sirius’ Cup Day. And August training. Remus stretched his hands to his toes and closed his eyes. A strange type of adrenaline filled him whenever he thought about practicing with the team, about the fitness tests that would come first. He’d have to prove himself again and again. He wanted to. But part of him wondered what would happen if he couldn’t.

The screen door squeaked open and shut again, and Remus jumped, looking up to find Sirius, still sleep rumpled, standing there in running shorts.

Remus laughed, reaching up to trace a pillow crease in his cheek. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in while you can.”

Sirius let out a grumbly sort of yawn and gathered his hair, long from the summer and just brushing his chin now, back into a small half-up bun.

“I can’t believe you do this before coffee.”

“Too acidic. Gives you running stitches.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius sighed, and threw his arm around Remus’ shoulders as they walked up the steep driveway to the road.

Remus kissed his wrist. “I’ll miss being here with you.”

Sirius smiled. He was tan from the summer, hair dark as ever and his skin sun-kissed.

Remus leaned into his shoulder. “I mean look at you. I like seeing you this relaxed.”

Sirius bit his lip as the rounded a bend, waving at Mrs. Barrow, who was tending to her garden.

“I don’t think I knew I could be this relaxed,” Sirius admitted. “It was always train, train, train, you didn’t get a Cup, try harder.”

Remus was familiar with the notes that appeared in Sirius’ voice now from years of Sirius’ small slips in conversation, even when, to Remus, Sirius had only been they youngest captain in the league, cold and reserved from even more years of his father’s abusive, relentless attitude towards hockey and Sirius’ skills. Even when Remus had only been the team’s physical therapist, closeted, crushing on Sirius, and surprised by the cracks Sirius showed when he had gotten his ankle smashed by Severus Snape, Captain of the Slytherin Snakes—the Gryffindor Lions greatest rivalry. Pain, it had seemed, and fear of never stepping on the ice again, had given Remus his first glimpses into a different Sirius beneath it all, a boy who was filled with much more than just a need to win, but for whom the want of winning only made him love his sport, and his team, more.

“And now that you have a Cup?” Remus asked. “How’re you feeling?”

They came to the road and Sirius balanced on one foot, stretching his thigh. “Now that I have you,” he said. “I’m feeling just fine.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, the Stanley Cup Champion part has nothing to do with it.”

Sirius laughed, but took Remus’ face between his palms. “If I didn’t have you, and I had only a Cup, all I would be doing right now is thinking about another Cup.”

Remus put a hand on his chest, fingers finding the number twelve pendant that rested there.

“Now, there’s more,” Sirius said simply, and leaned down for a tender kiss. “Like your mother’s peach pie.”

Remus punched him in the arm as Sirius laughed loudly.

“You’ll have to beat me if you want a slice of that!” Remus called as he took off.

Sirius made a wounded noise, but sprinted after him until they were side by side again.

“I don’t think I can leave this beach,” Leo mumbled into the lounging cabana they were spread out beneath, and Logan looked down at him from where he was reading—trying to read—one of the books Finn had given him. He didn’t know how many books Finn had tried to get him to read over the years, but he knew he never made it through more than a few pages without looking up, getting distracted, or having to go back.

“Non?” Logan asked.

Leo shook his head. “The sun. The sea. I’m in heaven.”

“What about hockey?”

“Brr.”

Logan laughed and settled back into the pillows, setting the book aside and rolling towards Leo to feel his sun-warmed back and leaned down to kiss his temple. A private beach definitely had its perks—and so did three hockey salaries.

“We’ll just stay here, then.”

They’d had a good summer. Leo’s Cup Day, Finn’s, his own, all in their hometowns and accompanied by large parades and fanfare. Logan had finally gotten to take Leo home to his sisters and parents for the first time. It had been nice to see Finn around his family again, too, after what felt like eons of avoiding him in that small gap between being at Harvard and then them both making it to the NHL, and to the Lions.

Leo’s sleepy smile up at him melted Logan like ice in the sun.

“Okay, good,” Leo said, then his eyes went behind Logan. “There’s the ghost-on-toast with our drinks.”

Logan snorted and looked up to see Finn—and Finn’s tiny blue swim shorts that he insisted weren’t see-through—walking towards them through the sand from the resort bar with a tray of drinks in his hands.

“Hey, lover-nuts,” Finn said as he set the tray down in the shade. “Got us some snacks, too. That bar tender loves me.”

“You are so pale,” Leo laughed. “I love you, though, please put more sunscreen on.”

“Keep your sandy feet off my towel,” Logan nudged Finn’s foot with his own as he reached for his drink. Finn just smiled and nodded at the book.

“How is it?” Finn asked.

Logan just looked at him.

He laughed and ran a hand through Logan’s salty, damp hair. “I know. I’ll read it to you later. I just thought you might want something for the beach!”

Logan held up his cocktail. “I have something for the beach.”

They settled back under their cabana, the thin, white linen curtains fluttering around them in the three o’clock breeze. Maybe Logan, as he closed his eyes between Leo and Finn, Leo’s hand still on his thigh, Finn’s arm pillowing the back of his neck, never wanted to leave this beach, either.

“Back to Gryffindor tomorrow,” Logan said.

“Group chat says most guys’ll be back this week,” Finn said, squinting at his phone over his sunglasses. “We gotta be back for Dumo’s, and then Cap’s Cup Day. That’ll be nice, man.”

“I like that they’re bringing it to Gryffindor Pride,” Leo said, rolling onto his back. “Should have thought of that. Or, I guess…” Leo trailed off and Logan frowned. They couldn’t do that. Not yet, at least. Leo caught Logan’s expression and rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I’m glad we get to go, even if its for them on the surface. That’s real thoughtful of them, you know?”

Logan nodded. It was thoughtful. When Remus and Sirius had brought it up to them, he’d found himself getting a little choked up.

“We want you guys to be able to experience that, too,” Remus had said. “If you want. No matter what you decide to do public-wise in the future.”

Finn clicked his phone off and chucked it to the side. “Hey, don’t take me off island time yet. We’ll order to the room, eat on the deck, hike up and stargaze…”

Finn rattled off the perfect list, tilting towards Logan until their lips met.

“And then we’ll go win another Cup.”

Leo and Logan punched him at the same time.

Thomas sat in the shade with Kasey as they watched Alex try to take on Natalie and Noelle at pool basketball.

“I really think they’re going to accidentally drown him,” Thomas said thoughtfully.

“He probably thinks that, too, and is just too competitive to stop,” Kasey replied.

Thomas laughed, and held out his beer to cheers.

“This is a nice house the O’Haras have, man,” he looked at the sparkling ocean beyond the steps and fence, and at the pool with the grill and lounge chairs. They’d only come up for the weekend, between training and visiting their own families, and before returning to Gryffindor for the season.

“Tell me about it.”

“Cheating!” Alex spluttered from the pool as Natalie put all of her weight on him to dunk him under the water. Alex pointed very seriously to the foot marker on the side tile. “We agreed from that to Thomas’ chair, I was too far away!”

“Too bad!” Noelle shouted as she made another basket.

Thomas didn’t think it was the alcohol that made him feel a little fuzzy at the edges as he looked over her in her swimsuit. She was all curves of tanned muscle, softened the summer around her stomach and arms. Thomas was a goner. But she seemed pretty gone, too, so he guessed it was all right.

“This moment’s always rough,” Kasey said softly from beside him, and when Thomas looked at him questioningly, he gestured vaguely with his beer. “The end of July. One more month, but not really. Alex’ll go back for training, you know? It’s like a trick. I always think, I get three months with these two. But it’s more like two and the first week of August.”

Thomas nodded. “I know. Noelle, too. Her training camp starts on the eight. I’m just…”

Kasey sighed in sympathy.

“At least you have Nat, you know?” Thomas said. “Not that I’m saying you have it easier, I just…”

Kasey shook his head. “I know. Believe me, I’m thankful for that every day. But…when you miss someone, you miss someone.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

Last season hadn’t been too bad. His relationship with Noelle had been new. They only really knew FaceTime dates, and squeezed in weekend flights that sometimes left them more exhausted than sated. They had been taking it slow. Thomas had been kissed by Noelle—a lot. Enough to make him dizzy with it. Only, then she’d met him at the airport in Quebec, they’d spent a month with her family in France…

And Thomas wasn’t sure he knew how to do just FaceTime anymore. There was a new yearning, knotted just below his heart. He knew what her skin felt like under his hands now, knew what she looked like right when she waked up, even her skincare routine before bed. It would feel like being away from the ice for too long, the knot pulling tight. He thought this year was going to be harder. Maybe he knew it, but if he did, he was pretending it might be easy still.

“T,” Noelle called, floating on her back, dark hair fanned out in the water. “C’mere!”

Thomas smiled, setting his drink down. He would come, whenever she called. Wherever.

Cole Reyes didn’t know if Adele Dumais staring at him the way she was was a good thing, or a bad thing. He was nervous enough without the seemingly disapproval of Pascal Dumais'—the Pascal Dumais of the Gryffindor Lions, oldest player in the league—teenage daughter.

“Don’t you talk?” Marc, one of his sons, asked.

Cole blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah.”

Adele waved her brother off. “They’re always super nervous at first. Remember Sirius?”

Marc scoffed. “I was a baby.”

Cole let out a breath. Now they were casually talking about Sirius Black, who had lived in the very room Cole had been sleeping in for a week now when he was a rookie, too. It was the same with Logan Tremblay. He felt like he needed to keep the room pristine, like he was living in some Hockey Hall of Fame museum that he had not earned the right to be in yet.

“You’re still a baby,” Adele shot back.

“Kids,” came Celeste, Pascal’s wife’s voice from where she was setting the table. “Come on now.”

“Sorry, maman,” Marc said softly.

“Sorry,” Adele sighed more reluctantly.

“Go help your father with the grill, you two,” she said. “Everyone will be arriving soon.”

Katie, Celeste and Pascal’s youngest daughter, perked up from where she was sitting beside Cole, drawing. Not Pascal, Dumo—Cole kept having to remind himself that he could call Pascal by his nickname now, that it was all official, that he was a Gryffindor Lion, too. Katie hadn’t left his side since he arrived a week ago to billet with the Dumais, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Even the Cup?” she asked.

Celeste laughed. “Oui, ma cherie. Cole? Would you mind going to get the flowers for the table? They’re on the kitchen counter, just inside.”

“Oh, sure, Mrs. Dumais,” Cole nodded, glad for something to do. The thought of the Cup arriving gave him the chills. He’d have to be careful not to touch it. He was scared to even look at it, to be honest. His mom would be laughing at him right about now. He wanted to call her afterwards, tell her everything.

“Call me Celeste, I told you, please,” Celeste smiled. She was lovely, with her dark hair twisted and clipped up and a summer dress as green as her eyes, silky against her olive skin.

Cole flushed, but smiled. “Celeste.”

Cole made his way through the sliding door from the back yard and through the dining room. The kitchen was one of the biggest rooms in the house—and it was a big house. Beautiful copper pans hung shining above the island, along with some herbs that Celeste grew and dried herself. It looked like something out of a magazine to Cole, and it was nice, but it wouldn’t beat his mom’s kitchen in the small apartment they shared in Boston. The small space would fill up to the brim with the smell of spices, or cobbler. The thought sent a pang right to his heart. He missed home, that was for sure. After being away for so long, for so many hockey camps, he’d hoped he would be more used to it by now.

The flowers were right where Celeste had said they would be, and he was reaching for one when the back door that led to the garage dinged open. Cole froze, sure that he was about to run into captain Sirius Black completely unprepared, when a girl stepped through instead. She was dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top, had dark brown skin, and a Gryffindor College hat over her hair, which was plaited back into many small braids.

She smiled when she saw him. No sign of surprised, or of the nervousness Cole felt when he met basically anyone.

“You must be Cole,” she said.

Cole nodded. The girl was gorgeous. Cole was a mess of nerves already. He didn’t need the stare of the teenage daughter of one of his idols, but he especially could not handle a beautiful girl right now.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “No, yeah, um. Yes.”

The girl strode forward, setting her bag down on the counter, along with a water bottle decorated in stickers. He caught a few Lions ones. She offered her hand, which was slender and had two golden rings on it. “I’m Layla. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Cole took it, trying to place her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I babysit for the Dumais family,” she said in explanation, then waved her hand. “Well, this year, at least. I’m actually—we’re going to be working together.”

Cole blinked. “You mean the Lions?”

She nodded. “I’m in the middle of my undergrad for physical therapy. Dumo’s amazing and he got me an internship under the new PT. You know. I’ll probably get you stick tape or something,” she laughed. “Congrats, by the way.”

Cole tilted his head and she raised an eyebrow.

“On making it to the NHL?”

“Oh,” Cole laughed. “Oh, I, yeah, thanks. You, too—or…yeah.”

Cole was going to stay in his room in the basement and never come out.

“I gotta—Mrs. Du—Celeste wants these flowers outside,” he said, picking the vases up.

“Sure thing,” Layla smiled.

“Layla,” came a shriek, and a moment later Katie Dumais came sprinting into the kitchen and wrapped herself around Layla’s legs and smiled at Cole. “This is my new hockey player.”

Cole couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t have a lot of experience with kids, but Katie sure was cute.

“Yours?” Layla gasped as she smiled at Cole. “He’s all yours, is he?”

Katie nodded. “Like Tremzy and Sirius. His name is Cole, like when Santa Clause doesn’t like you.”

Again, with the casual mentions of Logan Tremblay and Sirius Black.

“Oh, of course,” Layla laughed. “Well, I’m sure Santa Clause has never not liked you, babes. Let’s go let your mom know I’m here, okay? Your new hockey player can come with us, too.”

“He’s yours, too!” Katie insisted. “You’re here all the time, so he’s yours, too, don’t worry.”

“Oh, good,” Layla said. “I was worried.”

When Katie looked at Cole expectedly, Cole managed, “I guess everyone does need a hockey player?”

“Exactly!” Katie squealed, and Cole could only follow them outside, heart pounding.

It was good to be back in Gryffindor. Remus and Sirius had dropped their bags in Sirius’ entryway, said hello to Regulus, showered, and then hopped right back in the car to get to Pascal’s house.

“You two look disgustingly happy,” Regulus said, leaning forward from the back seat.

“We are,” Sirius grinned at him in the review mirror. “I am also happy,” he stroked the leather steering wheel of his Range Rover. “To be back with this baby.”

While Sirius’ hair had grown longer, Regulus had shaved his short. The curls were barely curls at all anymore, but Remus was happy to see that his seemingly ever-present dark circles had receded some.

“Why, thank you, Regulus, you look happy, too,” Remus snorted. “When do you leave for NYU’s orientation?”

“August 23rd,” he said. “Been texting with my housemates, too. They seem cool.”

“Maybe one of you will pull a Finn and fall in love with each other,” Sirius said.

“Twice,” Remus laughed, and Regulus did, too.

“I think I’ve had enough romance drama to last me a life time, thanks,” Regulus smiled. “But, yeah. I’m just…I’m focused on friends right now, I think. Normal, non-hockey creatures like you two. But that’s not to say if something came up…or I guess someone. Who knows.”

Sirius’ smile was softer this time. “Focus on whatever you want, Reg. You deserve it.”

Regulus just grumbled something about hockey gods, and then they were pulling up to the Dumais’. There were silver and white balloons lining the driveway and the fence to the backyard where, as Remus slammed his door, he could already hear laughter. A zing of excitement shot through him.

“I missed this team,” he sighed as Sirius took his hand.

Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple. “Your team.”

“Our team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Regulus said, and gave them a shove forward.

Thomas gave a loud woop when he spotted them coming out to the backyard. Regulus immediately made a B-line towards Leo and the Cubs.

“Yes! The Captain!” Thomas said and pulled Sirius into a hug. “Missed you, man.”

“You, too, T,” Sirius said. “Ready to tear it up?”

“You know it.”

Remus smiled as Thomas hugged him next. “I forgot you two train together before pre-season.”

“You two?” Thomas raised an eyebrow, the small gold hoops in his ears glinting in the sun. Remus noticed he’d shaved three stripes into one side of his head. They were a little wobbly. Maybe Noelle had done it. “You’re not coming with us?”

“You know how this one is about his routines,” Remus said, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”

“Please,” Sirius said. “I want you there more than I want a second—”

Remus and Thomas punched him at the same time.

“I know you weren’t just about to say that,” said an accented voice from behind Remus, and they turned to see Pascal standing there. He looked as he always did, smile lines around his eyes, gray streaks at his temples. He wore a white t-shirt and had Katie on his hip. She was definitely getting too big to be carried around like that, but Remus couldn’t see a time when Pascal would ever refuse her. He’d probably carry Adele around like that, too, if she’d let him.

“Dumo,” Sirius smiled, and took the two beers he was holding out, handing one to Remus. He kissed Katie’s forehead. “Good summer?”

“The best,” Pascal laughed, and nodded towards the edge of the yard. “Especially with the promise of seeing that thing again.”

Remus followed his gaze, and his breath caught, just as he knew it would. The Cup stood there, its guards near by with drinks and plates of food in their hands. It sat proudly on a table, surrounded by white tulips—no doubt Celeste’s doing.

“I’m excited to see you two bring it to the parade,” Pascal said. “That will be a wonderful day for everyone.”

Remus glanced at where Logan, Leo, and Finn were standing with Kasey Winter, Gryffindor’s goalie, and his partners Natalie, with her long blonde hair, and Finn’s brother Alex, who played for Tampa Bay.

Sirius’ smile lit up his face. “It will be.”

Remus peered around him. “Is that our rookie?”

Sirius scoffed. “A rookie can’t call a fellow rookie rookie, rookie.”

Remus blinked. “What did you just say?”

“That’s Cole!” Katie said. “I love him.” Then she turned and shouted his name again. He looked up from where he was standing quietly beside Jackson Nadeau, another player, and Remus suppressed a smile at the way his eyes widened when he saw Sirius.

“Oh, here we go,” Sirius mumbled.

“Oh, hush,” Remus said, and sounded far too much like his mother to himself. “You’re going to be throwing hands for him the second someone gets close, and you know it.”

“I don’t know how to tell rookies I’m just a person!” Sirius whispered as Cole began to make his way over. “They act all…”

“Star struck?” Thomas offered.

Sirius just glowered at him.

Cole Reyes did not look as young as he was. Even at 19, he was jacked, and tall, with light brown skin, green eyes, and a stripe shaved into one of his eyebrows. His hair was shaved at the sides, but longer on the top and in tight curls.

Remus glanced somewhat self-consciously down at himself. He could only put on more muscle healthily so fast. He thought he’d been doing well, but looking at Cole…

“Hello,” Cole said hesitantly and Pascal set Katie down and clapped Cole on the shoulder.

“Reyes, meet Sirius. Sirius, meet the boy who is a much better billet than you ever were.”

Sirius snorted, and Cole laughed—nervously.

“Hi, Cole,” Sirius said, and held out his hand. “I know we spoke briefly over the summer, but it’s nice to officially meet you.”

“You, too,” Cole said, smile slight. “Thanks for the call. My mom freaked out. I mean—well, me too, but my mom…” Cole stuttered out, wincing.

“Loves me?” Sirius laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“He’s so humble,” Remus shook his head jokingly. “Hi Cole, I’m Remus. Welcome to the team.”

“You too…?” Cole said hesitantly. “Well, the roster, I guess.”

“Cole,” Katie said, taking his large hand in her small one. “Come meet Tremzy. He’s my best friend.”

Sirius feigned a pout. “What about me?”

Katie smiled sheepishly, throwing herself at Sirius’ legs, “You, too!”

“Always one-uped by Tremblay,” Thomas laughed, shaking his head. “How’s it feel, Cap?”

“Wonderful,” Sirius said dryly and then looked down at Katie, petting her head. “Go on, go show Cole your best friend.”

They watched her lead Cole through the crowd for a moment before Sirius huffed.

“See?” Sirius whispered to Remus. “It’s like he’s scared of me.”

“I’ve never heard you use the phrase spoke briefly in my life. Who are you, Alice?”

“I was trying to be professional!”

Remus laughed. “Why?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes and dragged him over to stack their plates with food.

The party went well into the evening, the sky pink and blue in the setting sun. There were lanterns floating in the pool where Evgeni and Jackson were playing chicken with a delighted Marc and Louis, or sometimes one of Coach Arthur Weasley’s boys, on their shoulders. Logan was sitting with Cole and Finn, cradling a sleepy Katie against his chest, Leo and Regulus laughing with Kasey and Alex.

Remus found Sirius again standing alone in front of the Cup. His hair was falling into his face, the curls gentled by the evening breeze and the Cup’s silver surface reflecting the silver of Sirius’ eyes. Remus went to stand beside him, and neither of them spoke for a moment.

“I’m nervous,” Remus broke the silence.

Sirius nodded. “I know, mon loup.”

Remus sighed, resting his head against Sirius’ arm. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Sirius switched his drink to his other hand so he could run his fingers through Remus’ hair. “This is…big.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Remus whispered. It felt dangerous, to say the words aloud. “It’s everything that I lost. Last time.”

Remus could still feel Fenrir Greyback rip at his shoulder, even if it was years ago now, while they were still at college. Being in the NHL meant that Remus would have to play against him again whenever they met Vegas.

Sirius turned towards him, hand on his cheek.

“You will have this,” he said earnestly, and then smile, reaching into his shirt for his necklace, the one Remus had gifted him last Christmas. He brought it to his lips. “Loops.”

Remus smiled at the now familiar sight, touching the pendant when Sirius’ let it drop.

“You know,” Remus said. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted, too.”

Sirius’ smile was one of Remus’ favorites, and he tucked him against his side. Remus followed his gaze to find him looking at Cole again.

“I’m not happy with the way it happened,” Sirius said softly, and Remus knew he was thinking of the pictures that someone had leaked of them kissing. The pictures that had upturned their entire lives. “But I’m glad I get to hold you like this in front of new faces. I wasn’t thinking about trades—I try not to—but getting Reyes, if things had been different, would have meant we were back to square one at parties like these.”

Remus nodded, taking a drink. “And he seemed okay with it. With us.”

“I was thinking we should invite him to train with us. With me, you, and T. Maybe Dumo would join, too. I know he usually goes with Sergei, but Sergei might be with Kuns and Nado, even though they usually like it just them. The Cubs—”

“Okay, Captain, okay,” Remus laughed.

Sirius pressed a hand over his eyes, laughing. “I just don’t like it when they’re nervous around me. Like Leo was. It’s so much better now that we’re friends.”

“You’ll get there with him,” Remus said. “Yeah, invite him to train with us. The more the merrier.”

Secretly, Remus wanted to see how Cole trained. He couldn’t shake the analytical side of him, the physical therapist side. Cole was built for such a young age.

“If I didn’t know better,” Sirius said softly, mouth close to Remus’ ear. “I’d say you were checking him out.”

Remus spluttered. “I’m not! I want to know his routine!”

Sirius cracked up. “This is your superstition, isn’t it? Cracking other player’s codes.”

Remus just shrugged, smiling into his cup.

“Have you cracked my code?” Sirius asked in the low voice he used that made Remus not want to be surrounded by people.

Remus looked up at him. “Maybe. It certainly has nothing to do with a piece of toast at five o’clock.”

“My pre-game toast is very important to me.”

Remus leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “No, you just like honey and cinnamon.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to talk to Reyes now.”

“Catch him if he passes out.”

Sirius just glowered over his shoulder as he stalked across the grass. Remus looked around at the back yard, at the team, together again. His team.

451 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Pressure

Finale to Push and Pull

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life changes and you’re swept up in the tide.

Note: Alright, here’s out final part! Lee is such a bastard man.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You left a stain On every one of my good days”

-Disease, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s mantle as a moonshiner. When he got home, he went to the shed and tinkered with the sill. He met with the same men your father had and even began to act like him. Quiet, terse. He ordered you and your brothers around as he emulated the dead man.

Will had grown quiet. In those days he spent at home with you, you’d noticed how distant he seemed. He was the youngest, the sweetest. When your mother had passed, he had been the most distraught but he seemed numb to your father’s absence.

And Cal; Cal was just as oblivious as ever. You almost admired how he always went through life without heed for the past or future. He only seemed to live in his own little bubble as he floated along; untouched and unaffected by the taint of Knockemstiff.

And you, you were just an afterthought in the lives of the men around you. You cleaned after them, cooked for them, and saw that all was in order for them to exist. They didn’t give a second thought to their dirtied dishes or torn trousers. They just left them for you to tidy and mend.

And Bodecker. You hated just the thought of him. Hated the way your stomach churned as you recalled that mighty heat he’d stoked within you. The feeling you knew was so wrong. How could you feel that way when he was touching you? When you didn’t want him to touch you? You didn’t want it, right?

Your nightmares were stained in your father’s blood. You woke with a start at the gunshot as it echoed inside your head. Every morning without fail. Visions lingered as you dressed; the gun, Lee’s voice, the blood seeping into the dirt. You shuddered and pressed your hands to your face.

Had it really been so long? A month already.

You descended the stairs and yawned into your sleeve as you hugged yourself in the early morning chill. It was early, the men would not rise for another hour or so.

Maybe not. You heard the crackle of a log and the whisper of a page being turned. You stood in the doorway of the living room. Will sat on the rug before the fire, bent over a book as the flames licked behind the grate.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he spoke before you could. “But I’m almost done my book.”

“That’s good,” you neared and lowered yourself beside him, “What are you reading anyway?”

“Lord of the Flies,” he marked his page, “I think… I think it’s about good and evil. If people are born one or the other, you know?”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms over your knees.

“Yeah, I mean, if we were allowed to make our own rules, would we make them for us or the for the good of everyone?” He wondered, “Because even with the rules, we do the worst, don’t we?”

“I suppose but… the rules don’t really make much difference around here.” You snorted. “Not in this town.”

“You think it’s different somewhere else? In the city? Maybe in another country?” He chewed his thumbnail.

“I like to hope so, not that I’ll ever know,” you said, “Is this about daddy?”

He shrugged. He dropped his hand and stretched his long legs before him. “All the good went with mama.”

“Don’t say that,” you admonished.

“It’s true. How many times did he take the belt to you? And why? Because you made him think of her.”

“You really think that?”

“He was nasty to all of us,” he sighed, “But nastier to you. And I can’t even be sad that he’s gone.”

“Death is hard, Will,” you touched his shoulder, “It’s hard to know what you’re feeling about it. Sad ain’t so clear as it should be. It could be staring at the wall or tossing and turning in your bed or sitting up in the early hours and readin’ some book by yourself. It’s not always a feelin’, sometimes it’s in the things we do.”

“It’s just a book,” he muttered.

“But you lookin’ for daddy in it, ain’t ya? Askin’ if he was good or bad.”

“I know he was bad,” Will said, “It’s why I don’t feel bad for him. Probably ran his mouth at whoever it was who gave him what he got.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you took his hand and squeezed, “Please. For me.”

He looked at you. The light of the fire flickered in shadows across his face. “You know, you never had to take care of him. Or us. You should got out and married.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to,” you sidled close to him, “But how could I leave my little brother, hmm?”

“I’m a man now. Almost.” He said. “Arn won’t let you stay. I know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Him and Rose from the diner. He’s gonna marry her. Won’t be no place for you here. Or Cal. Or me.” Will said. “And I’m gonna go work down at the yard. Or maybe the factory.”

“You should finish school.”

“For what?”

“You’re the only smart one. You could find your way. Get a degree.” You urged. “You should do all of that. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“And leave you behind?”

You sniffed and hung your head. “No, I’m grown. I’ll find my way and I won’t get in yours. You got half a year left. You’re too close to quit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Mama always wanted you to do something big. She always said you were special.” You said. “A lawyer? Maybe even a doctor. Imagine that.”

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand and wobbled his foot as he thought. “You should leave too. Leave this town. We could both go once I’m done school.”

“No, no, you can’t be takin’ care of me.” You argued.

“Why not? You’ve taken care of me.”

“Because that’s what women do. I promised mama I would.” You liked the idea of leaving but it was terrifying. Even if you did have that courage, you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long. And if fate didn’t bring you back, you expected something, or someone else, would. “If Arn decides to toss us to the curb, I’ll see you through the rest of the year and then you’re gonna go out and make mama proud.”

He nodded and leaned back on his hands. “I know no one else ever gave you a chance but you should start givin' yourself one. You’re too good for us. Too good for everyone in this damn town.”

🚔

When the Sheriff showed up next, you were alone. He walked into the house without knocking, as had become his habit, and sat at the table as you prepared a roast for dinner. He watched you silently and you tried to ignore him. You were waiting for his command.

How did he want you? What vile things would he do to you that day?

“When’s the boys gettin’ home?” He asked.

“Soon,” you answered as you turned on the oven.

“You got something sweet,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out an empty wrapped.

You slid the cookie jar towards you and plopped it before him on the table. “Made ‘em last night. Chocolate chip.”

“You’re always so good to me,” he smiled and you choked down your revulsion. “Too bad it took me so damn long to get here. I really wanted to have some fun.”

You turned back and opened the stove. You slid the roasting pan inside and snapped it shut.

“Them dresses you got, they really do nothin’ for ya,” he said through a mouthful of cookie, “‘cept when you’re bending over.”

“Why are you here then?” You crossed your arms as you turned back to him.

“I gotta talk to your brothers,” he said, “But let’s be clear on something, girl. You don’t ask me my business unless it’s to do with you.”

“I know about you,” you sneered, “Everyone does. Why don’t you get one of your whores and leave me alone?”

The chair nearly toppled as he stood and tossed down the cookie. He rounded the table and stomped over to you, cornering you against the counter.

“You’re my whore,” he snarled, “You got that?” He pinched your tit roughly. “Now, if I wanna, I can bend you over right now and let your brothers see what a whore you are.” He grabbed your chin and pushed his body against yours. “You should be flattered, you know? I ain’t touched another bitch since I been in you.”

You bit down and glared at him. Your lip curled but you said nothing.

“I ain’t gonna leave you alone,” he rocked his body against yours and exhaled. “What do ya think is gonna happen if I do? If I toss you out like the used bag you are? You got me or you got nothing. No man’s gonna marry a flower without her petals.”

He pushed harder against you until you could feel his bulge through his pants. His stomach crushed you against the counter. He leaned in and kissed you. You were shocked by the gesture, disgusted at how you could taste the chocolate on him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he growled as he drew away, “Fuckin’ hurts so bad.” He pushed himself from you and turned as he cleared his throat. The loud rumble of the Ford truck called from just outside as it pulled in. “Guess that means I’ll have to pay you back in kind.”

You narrowed your eyes and went to the fridge. You poured him a glass and slammed it down as the front door opened and the boys’ voices mingled in the hallway. Bodecker drank deeply and cleared his throat as he watched you retreat.

Arn entered first, followed by the other two as they chattered noisily. “...in the shed, we-- Sheriff Bodecker,” Arn shook the sheriff’s hand as he stood. “Figured you were waitin’ for us. You know, we got everything sorted with the shine.”

“That’s good to hear but sadly I’m not here about that,” Bodecker said, “Other business. ‘Bout your daddy.”

“Ah, okay,” Arn glanced over at Cal as Will took a seat at the table and grabbed a cookie from the jar. Your youngest brother looked at you as he took a bite. “What’s, uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, we think we got the prick who did it,” Bodecker began and you stiffened, “Found your daddy’s belt buckle and same caliber gun. Some rat down by the tracks. Been arrested before for robbin’.”

“You found him?” Cal asked, “Well, suppose that’s good.”

“We will be chargin' him to the full extent of the law. Shouldn’t see a free day ever again.” Bodecker said. “Out of courtesy, I figured I’d tell ya before the papers ran the story.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Arn said. “You know it’s been tough tryna get everything together since he been gone but… this’ll be good for all of us. Now that we have some peace about it.”

“Oh, you got big plans?” Bodecker asked.

“House is mine now. Figure I need a wife. And the boys… well, they gotta go find a place of their own, ain’t they?”

“Mmm,” Bodecker hummed, “And your sister, too.”

“We have an aunt. I’m sure she could use the company.” Arn said.

“What?” You sputtered, “You just gonna send me away to live with Darlene?”

“What else am I gonna do with ya?” Arn barked. “If I got Rose here to do my cookin’ and cleanin’, I don’t see the use in keepin’ you around. Don’t know why daddy didn’t find someone to take ya before.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to do nothin’ with me,” you huffed, “But I ain’t goin’ to Darlene’s. I’ll go out on my own. I’ll clean someone else’s floor and get paid for it in more than spit and stupid.”

Arn snarled and Will stood slowly from the table. Cal squinted as if lost.

“Now, now,” Bodecker clapped Arn’s shoulder, “Lots to be done, lots to be done. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a lot. Big news. I say, take some time, have some of that shine your daddy left you, and calm down, huh?”

Arn looked at the sheriff and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I s’pose.”

Will lingered by the table, his eyes never left his older brother as his hands balled into fists. You neared him and touched his arm softly. He glanced over at you, his face tensed with anger.

“I won’t let him do it,” he whispered. “I told you, we can get out together.”

“So let’s give it a day,” Bodecker boomed, “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk business and… well, I think you’ll be happier after we have all that figured out.”

Arn nodded and shifted his weight.

“You got big shoes to fill,” Bodecker said, “Gotta make sure you get ‘em laced on right.”

🚔

As promised, Bodecker returned the next day, this time after your brothers. He joined them in the shed, a relief as you worked at stitching one of Will’s shirts. Cal appeared as you held up the shirt and eyed your work. You sensed his shadow and dropped the fabric to your lap.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you assured him.

“You need to come out to the shed,” he ignored your promise of a hot meal and you frowned.

You stood and slung the shirt over the chair. You grabbed your jacket and boots and followed him out the door. You hadn’t been to the shed since before your daddy died. Your teeth chattered as you slipped through the door and Cal slid it closed behind you. Arn sat in your pa’s old armchair, Lee on a stool, and Will on the crooked bench with a space free for his other brother.

“I don’t know why she needs to be here,” Arn said, “But she is, so let’s get on.”

“Well, the only way you’re gonna expand across the county is through me, Arn,” Bodecker talked as if he were addressing a child. “And I’m up for re-election. That means we need each other. Means we need to set this little partnership we have down in stone.”

“How’s it that you need us, sheriff?” Cal asked as you swayed by the door.

“Well, my reputation ain’t exactly pristine. I need to tidy up the edges,” Bodecker leaned forward and twined his fingers together. “I’ll see that you get your shine from one end of the county to the other and I’ll also take a little weight off your shoulders. I need a wife and your sister needs a new home.”

Your mouth fell open and even Arn seemed surprised by the proposal.

“No,” Will said, “You can’t… you can’t marry her.”

“I don’t see why not. She’s gettin’ up there in years, I don’t see anyone else lining up.” Bodecker chortled.

“Because she--” Will looked at you helplessly. “She deserves to be happy.”

“I don’t think any woman be unhappy being the sheriff’s wife,” Bodecker hissed, “Won’t be no different than her cleaning up after y’all. If anything, it’ll be easier.”

“Take her,” Arn said, “Two birds, one stone.”

“And Cal, I’ll get him on the force by the end of the year. Always good to have another set of hands.” Bodecker continued. “He’ll make good enough money to get outta your hair.”

“And Will?” You said. All the men turned to look at you. “He’s gotta stay in school.”

“School ain’t shit,” Arn scowled.

“I don’t see why he can’t finish,” Bodecker said.

“I ain’t takin’ care of him,” Arn said. “He either gonna work for his lot or he can live outside.”

“Say what you want about daddy, but at least he had the decency to see to us,” you said. “You think you’re the big man now he’s gone.”

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth if you know what’s good for you,” Arn stood and the sheriff did too. He stepped in front of the younger man.

“She’s grievin’. You know the ladies don’t handle all this so well,” Bodecker said, “I’ll see after the kid. I was gonna up my take to twenty percent but I’ll settle for fifteen if you keep him on.”

“Up your take?” Arn scoffed.

“We’re gonna be family and I’m gonna make sure none of my officers get in your way. Boy, that’s gonna mess with numbers, you get me? You can’t get without givin’.”

Arn lowered his chin and looked between you and Will. He blinked slowly.

“He got a roof till he’s done school. No longer than that.” Arn sat back down heavily, “And you be best to get a leash on my sister and quick. The sooner she’s out of my house, the better. Rose is getting awfully antsy.”

“Y’all got a date yet?” Bodecker said.

“Wait? Just like that? You’re gonna marry me off--”

“Fuck’s sake. You ain’t never know when to shut up!” Arn hollered as he reached for a jar of shine.

“And you’re gonna drink away your years just like daddy,” you snapped.

“Hmm, maybe, but you’re gonna do what I tell you and get on your back for our sheriff.” He spat, “Or I’m gonna dump you on the corner and you can see who else will have you.”

“Arn, you can’t--” Will began.

“You two can go off and see how far you make it,” Arn bit back, “I’m done arguin’. The next person pipes up, I’m gonna tar ya.”

You looked at Will and shook your head. You knew what wasn’t being said. If you didn’t do what you were told, it wasn’t that you’d be out of your home. You wouldn’t have anything. The sheriff had a stranglehold on every citizen in the county. He’d make sure you were helpless until you were forced to grab his outreached hand. You’d take what he gave you, as you had to that point.

“Fine…” You uttered, “You know what mama would think, Arn. As much as you think daddy’d be proud, you know she wouldn’t.”

“Go back to your kitchen,” Arn took a gulp of moonshine, “You got a month, Sheriff. You get her out and you got your fifteen.”

🚔

You didn’t expect your wedding day to be so gloomy. A winter ceremony in the town church with a man you didn’t and couldn’t love. You’d always thought you would wear your mother’s old gown but he wasn’t worthy of that. So you wore the plan dress from the local shop with a short veil and a pair of white flats.

The sheriff had done his best to clean up for the ceremony. Freshly shaved, hair combed neatly, his stomach barely continued above his cumberbund. This man, your husband, your jailer.

Your brothers sat in the first row as you listened to the priest. Your vows were nothing special, the same template handed out by the church. To love and obey. Only one of those would be true. You stared at the loose stitches of the veil, your surroundings blurred beyond the white lace.

You hated Arn for trading you away like livestock but you knew deep down your father would’ve done the same. He would’ve done worse. You recalled his last words; he would’ve had you on the street. Maybe this was the best you could hope for.

The room came back into focus as your veil was lifted. Your husband kissed you. He still sent a shiver up your spine every time he touched you. You turned back to the audience, his hand around yours as he led you between the rows of strangers. Your brothers were the only familiar faces though they were hardly welcome.

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s part in mistreating you, Cal was his mindless followers, and Will, you only saw pity in his eyes. Bodecker guided you between the pews and the doors open to the frigid winter afternoon. He ushered you to the waiting car and was quick to climb in behind you. There would be a dinner awaiting you at town hall; a whole room rented out for the occasion.

“So,” Bodecker’s hand settled on your thigh, “Are you wearing it?”

You nodded. He had brought you the lurid attire only nights before. A lacy brassiere and satin panties, stocks and frilly garners; all in as if you were still a virgin. He stretched his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

“It’s gonna just be you and me, honey,” he purred, “No more hiding.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” you spoke into your lap.

“Lee, or sir. No need to act strange anymore,” he dragged his nose up your cheek and his hot breath choked you. “I can’t wait until tonight. I’ve been holdin’ it in so long, god, I could blow now.”

“You know I hate you, don’t you?” You looked at him dead in the face.

A smile slowly spread across his face as he played with the hem of your veil. “Well, don’t really matter now, does it?”

🚔

Bodecker, Lee, your personal tormenter; whoever he was, ate as you avoided the same. You felt too sick to do anything but wait out the night. You accepted the congratulations of family and friends that weren’t yours and bided your time as he did all the talking. You expected your new life would be filled with these people eating out of the hand of their sheriff in hope that he didn’t swat their heads.

He drove you home in his cruiser. A strange end to a strange state of affairs. His house was large and closer to town. It was more modern than your father’s old farmhouse but not so tidy. A man living on his own didn’t have time to do his dishes before his wedding or put his used socks in the hamper

He closed the door behind you as you looked around. Cleaning was never a pleasure for you, an obligation, a ritual which kept you from dwelling on the bad. At that moment, you wanted to clean up the mess of this man’s life to keep from dealing with your own.

You jumped as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you stumble. You rubbed the stinging flesh beneath your dress and drew away from him. He caught your arm before you could go far.

“The bedroom’s through there,” he nodded to the doorway on the other side of the room, “A lot better than the car… and the coffee cups… hmmm?”

“It’s all the same,” you muttered.

“It gets better each time,” he pulled you against him and groaned. “You’ll see it soon. You’ll feel it.” He leaned in and his hot breath tickled your lips. “Go to the bedroom, get that dress off and wait for me.”

He tapped your ass and let you go as he turned away. He removed his jacket and hung it as you watched his back. You looked at the door. Where would you even go? Your mama once told you marriage wasn’t for love, it was practical. A roof over your head. What more could you ask for?

You walked down the hallway and stopped to look at the picture. The fresh-faced corporal didn’t look like the ruddy cheeked man with the wrinkle above his brow. Even in black and white, his eyes seemed brighter then. You tore yourself away and found the bedroom at the end.

You supposed you were different too. Different from yesterday, different from a month ago, a year ago, ten years ago. So much could change in so little time.

You reached back and unhooked the top of your dress. You struggled to undo each button along your spine as the fabric drew taut across your stomach. A week ago, the dress had seemed looser, same with much of your wardrobe.

You shimmied out of the dress and folded it over the walnut dresser. You looked down at yourself and the underwear better fit to the racy scenes in the theatre. You didn’t dress like this. You weren’t Marilyn or Elizabeth. You were just you and you were entirely out of place.

You slipped out of your shoes and unpinned your veil. The ring on your finger chafed your skin. You sighed and turned to sit on the bed. It bounced beneath you as you toyed with the diamond. Say what you would of the man, it had all been adequate. More than.

“You look good,” Bodecker said and you raised your head as he entered. He began to undress as he strutted across the room. “Wife.”

He unbuttoned his shirt as he neared the bed. He looked down at you with a smirk as his bowtie hung loose from his neck.

“You know what would happen if I didn’t marry you?” He pulled his tails loose and wiggled out of the shirt. He tossed it away with his tie, his stomach poking out slightly from his undershirt. “I mean, you could have my bastard inside you right now. You think anyone else wants it?”

Your eyes widened and your lashes fluttered. You bunched up the blankets in your hand as you teetered on the edge of the bed. You shook your head.

“You see, unlike all those whores, you got more than what’s between your legs,” he unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. “You work, real hard. And despite yourself, you’ll always need someone to take care of.”

He reached into his underwear and rubbed himself before pulling out his cock. You closed your eyes as he groaned and reached out to caress your cheek.

“Open your mouth, honey,” he purred. “Let me show how a wife serves her husband.”

You hesitated and he gripped your chin. He squeezed, a warning, and you opened up. He pressed his tip against your lips and pushed so that you let him in. His skin was salty and warm as it slid over your tongue. He hit the back of your throat and your eyes welled.

“Mmm mm mm,” he hummed, “That is good. Come on… just a little--”

He grunted as he forced himself down your throat. You choked and he shuddered as his hands held your head firmly. He moved his hips carefully. He slid back and slammed back in. Your eyes rolled back and you tried not to gag as he repeated the motion, each thrust harder than the last.

“Fuck, girl, I love that mouth,” he cooed, “Now it’s all mine.”

He pulled you forward as he pushed himself as deep as he could. He jerked into you even harsher than before and you grabbed the top of his pants. He dragged you off the bed and you fell to your knees. He fucked your face and shoved your head back against the mattress. He planted a hand on the bed and hammered into you over and over. Slobber spilled down your chin and you slapped helplessly against his thigh.

“Fucking take it,” he growled.

Your vision began to spot as you went limp and he stopped suddenly, halfway down your throat. He snarled and slipped out of your mouth and let you drop to the floor. You leaned forward as you coughed and his belt jingled as he stripped off his pants.

He stepped past you and climbed onto the bed. He fell heavily on his back as you looked up and bent his hands behind his head. His cock stood, glistening, and he grinned.

“Better climb on, girl,” he said, “We ain’t done yet.”

You grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled yourself up. One knee, then the other, you crawled over to him. It was the first time you’d seen him entirely naked. You stood shakily and reached to the top of the satin panties.

“Ah,” he tutted, “Just pull ‘em to the side.”

Your brows drew together but you didn’t argue. Your only hope was to bide him until you were on your own. Make yourself numb to his company and you could reward yourself in your solace.

You got down on your knees and reached between your legs. You took him in one hand and pushed your panties aside with other. You paused as his tip prodded at your entrance then lowered yourself onto him. You withdrew your hands and the satin was taut around the side of his shaft. You stilled and tried to adjust to the fullness.

“Well, come on,” he grabbed your hips and tilted them, “Move.”

You carried the rhythm and rocked atop of him. Your crumpled panties rubbed against your clit and added to the storm brewing in your core. His hands swept up your sides and he cupped your tits through the lace bra. His thumbs rubbed your barely concealed nipples and he groaned.

“Shit, it’s so good, honey. So good.” He moved his hips beneath you, “Faster.”

You obeyed and he tugged down the cups the brassiere. He pushed his head into the pillow and gritted his teeth. He grabbed your sides and pulled you to bend over him. He nuzzled your titts and nipped at the tender flesh. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as you kept your hips moving.

His hands skimmed over your curves and he gripped your hips. He pulled your ass down harder and you flesh clapped against his loudly. He turned his head away as your breast hung over him and you sped up. You were close. So close.

“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, “I’m gonna--”

You threw back your head and cried out as you orgasmed first. You dug your nails into his arm as you fucked him through your climax and felt him burst inside of you. That joy, that second of joy, was enough to forget, a spark of happiness before it all came back.

You slowed and stilled atop him, out of breath. You sat up, the straps of your bra sagging down your shoulders as he tickled your thighs.

“You know,” he poked his finger between your legs and flicked your overwrought clit. You twitched and he chuckled. “I can’t wait til you got my child inside of you. Seein’ you all big. I’m still gonna fuck you.” His other hand rubbed your stomach, “If you’re anything like your mama, we’ll have a whole herd of our own.” He licked his lips as he took your hands and placed them on his chest. “But you remember, your husband always comes first.”

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #the devil all the time #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #short series #series #push #pull

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i-make-fun-of-spn-characters · 3 years ago

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I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby.

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants.

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones.

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that.

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that.

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations.

#being serious for 5 seconds #RANTING RANTING RANTING #spicy spicy ghost pepper extract #mail

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pinkchanelbag · 4 years ago

Text

it’s okay; stay

armin arlert x reader

wc: 4k

cw: angst, comfort, pain, childhood flashbacks? armin getting beat up </3 not proofread

note: yes i cried while writing this.

do you remember the days when things were so hopeless that not even he had a way out of it, and all he could do was offer eyes as big as sky-blue plates, and a hand under the table to hold, to anchor you to something when you so badly wanted to drift away. to anchor you to him.

this was how it was, and this was how it continued to be, and as the feeling of impermanence faded, as your bunk bed in the girls’ quarters filled with more personal belongings and you subconsciously scooted backwards from the edge of your seat, stopped standing on tip-toes, you sunk back into your life, and somehow, into armin. as you found more ways to manipulate your daily routine to fit in more time alone with him, you found that you were your most lucid when you were staring down at a pale palm that you held in both hands, tracing the countless ravines of warm skin and looking for patterns or shapes or words. sometimes his fingers twitched when it tickled, and sometimes you’d tell him what word you had spelled out into his flesh and he’d laugh before continuing reading whatever book his nose was so attached to.

the memories move too fast and are too painful. you try your best to maneuver away from the ones that most ache, but each path seems worse than the last.

you’d met him when you were wearing a pale blue dress that stopped at your knees. you only remember this fact because you remember the way it felt as you gripped the fabric close to keep yourself from crying out at the sight of your older brother and his friends kicking at a smaller boy behind a house. you were hidden away after a prompt threat from your brother to go unseen and unheard, because if you interfered or got the bullies caught, he’d make your life an indefinite hell. he’d done it before and he’d do it again, so you stayed out across the road in an alley, your dress turning into a wrinkled wreck between your tiny fingers. there you stayed until the toothless brainless boys had their fill, backing up and shoving shoulders in kudos before running off in a hurry. characteristically, your brother had forgotten to come back for you. you didn’t care. you hated his presence.

a tiny blond heap sputtered and coughed on the floor some distance away. tears sprung to your eyes. you didn’t care. you hated him.

the lump on the floor moaned and rolled over in an attempt at a first step to mobility, which was to no avail as he—the young boy whose scuffed face you now saw—stared up at the sky. it lasted all of two seconds before he gasped and scrambled onto all fours, injuries forgotten as his eyes whipped around the scene of the assault. they landed on something and scurried to it. you narrowed your eyes and watched him dust off a half-wrecked book, sighing and pressing it to his chest. a tear curled over your eye and fell down your chubby cheek. he was a good boy. he laid back against the back of the tall house, and you tucked yourself further down the alley to avoid sighting, but you still watched him, feeling like you’d discovered something sort of very precious.

the next time you saw him was when your mom sent you to the market with a basket and a few coins to buy vegetables for dinner. you were happy to be allowed on your own without the “protection” of your deceptively polite brother. you were confident and unbothered as you took your time to stroll through the vendors. and then you saw him, and some part of you short-circuited. somewhere on the other side of your brain, something launched into overdrive, and you suppose this is what brought your feet forward to stand before him as he eyed a booth of crystals.

“what are you looking at?” you asked dumbly. your voice and presence scared him out of his skin for a good few moments and he froze for a good five seconds before stammering his answer.

“um, i’m looking at, at crystals,” he said. you smiled a little, deciding you liked how he talked. you looked at the table before you, tilting your head curiously.

“why would someone pay for these? couldn’t you just go into the forest and find them yourself?” your tone was incredulous, but when you looked back at armin, he was bewildered to see genuine wonder in your eyes, expecting an answer. an answer from him.

he fiddled with his fingers. “well, these are different, i think. they come from all over the walls and they all have different names and stuff. you wouldn’t be able to find them around here, i think.”

you nodded in comprehension, again looking at the assortment before bending down and pointing to a particular one.

“i like this one,” you said, suddenly sheepish. you clasped your hands to the handle of your basket and looked down.

“that’s called amethyst,” he said shyly, eyeing the deep purple rock with white flecks as it sparkled in the sun. his eyes shifted to you and stayed there for a few seconds before he decided what to do next.

“i’m armin,” he said, and you looked up to see a small hand extended to you. your momentary hesitation had him stuttering, “um, my grandpa said it’s polite to shake someone’s hand when you meet them.”

you really smiled this time, and armin smiled with you. you put your hand in his.

“i’m y/n.”

even at your fresh age, you knew that what you found in armin was different. even when he introduced you to his friends eren and mikasa, who welcomed you without reserve and taught you about love different from that which was familial, compulsory, you knew armin was like no other. you were too young to make sense of it, but it felt like in some way you’d been friends all along but hadn’t met yet; as though it was only a matter of time before you met or maybe you’d met before and forgotten. a ridiculous notion, but you were young, and happy.

things were wonderful.

until, weeks later, as you trudged behind your brother and a few of his friends, who were bored and lazy for the day, you smacked into your brother’s back by accident, not having been looking in front of you. he barely acknowledged you, instead bumping you off his shoulders as he and his friends pointed at a grounded nest of baby birds. interested, you stood on tip toes and peaked over your brother’s shoulder.

“y/n?”

you froze at the soft, questioning voice that called on you from your left. of course it was him, this you didn’t need to look to confirm, but you did anyway. his face sunk in a way that tore at your heart, but still he looked at you with questioning eyes that fell between you and the bullies you now stood amidst, asking for an explanation.

you couldn’t give him one, but you mouthed an “i’m sorry” before armin gathered his wits and silently backtracked his steps before the boys saw him and found something to satiate their boredom.

you didn’t see him for ages, half because he was never around and half because of the shame that paralyzed you. how selfish of you, to accept armin’s friendship when you’d been a person who enabled his suffering?

it wasn’t until almost an entire week later that you saw eren by the river near the market. he sat with a bored expression on his face, head thrown back. he was the most prickly of the trio, and even though you were sure he wouldn’t be pleasant to you, your feet sped towards him.

“eren!” you called, but when his eyes met yours, they turned cold, and immediately he got up to leave. “please wait! please! let me explain!” you stopped a few feet away from him, and he looked over his shoulder at you, and the look on his face made you crumble slightly.

“there’s nothing to explain. if those are the type of the people you hang around, then we don’t want anything to do with you. do you even know half the things they’ve done to armin?” he sneered.

“i do,” you said quietly. eren scoffed, just about ready to leave, until he heard the next bit. “…because they do it to me too.”

from there on, really, it was easy to win back eren’s loyalty, as he had barred you from seeing armin until you put some sort of stop to the abuse he suffered at the hands of your brother. he had said that it wasn’t enough that you were helpless, and that you needed to find a way to help armin out of this, because you’re in a unique position to help and because that’s what friends do. and he was right, and you did it.

on one of those evenings when your brother’s irritating snores didn’t fill the room you shared, you sat upright in bed until the boy himself attempted to sneak back through the window—he was about as subtle as a loosed horse.

he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw your moon-illuminated figure.

“what are you doing!?” he whisper-yelled. your voice was small enough that you didn’t need to whisper, and this way, you were able to fein strength in your voice. part of you thought about how maybe the power was there all along, but your passive nature put not use to it until you made your own friends. armin introduced you to courage, you realized, and you couldn’t help but smile in the dark.

“i know that you sneak out to wreck the farm fences next to jonah’s house,” you said. even in the dark, you could sense his hackles rise.

“so?” he replied, daring you to say the words he thought you might.

“pa said if you did one more bad thing he’d send you to uncle’s ranch to work for the entire summer.” you saw his shoulders tense at perhaps the only thing that scared him.

“there’s something i want from you…”

“and?” he said, seething.

“…and if you don’t do it, i’ll tell mama and pa all the bad things you’ve been doing.”

—

“this really isn’t necessary…” his soft voice spoke, and your heart ached a little at hearing it. eren shushed him while mikasa stood silent as usual, and you stood some distance away from them and waited.

it wasn’t long before your brother’s gang came trudging down the path before the four of you. you could see your brother angrily muttering at one of the other boys who looked displeased. when they spotted you and the others, they made a small ruckus of shoving and incredulous sounds, but your brother had them under control in a moment before looking in front of him.

his eyes met yours first, and you saw the hatred. for once, you didn’t care, and even returned it gracefully, hands clasped in front of you and shoulders tall. he held your gaze for only a few moments longer before conceding and looking at the trio that stood in the middle of the path. eren and mikasa stood in front of armin, but not in his field of vision, ready to defend him. but it wasn’t necessary. after a few moments, your brother shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded begrudgingly, aggressively, at armin, without meeting his eyes. armin’s chest seemed to deflate slightly with relief, tension in his fists gone at the sight of his bully surrendering.

and then they left.

and as soon as they did, armin pushed past eren and came towards you with a smile. you spoke the words that had been close to bursting for the past week, that you wanted to say a million times over to him if it meant he could believe them to be true.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted, and armin blinked in slight surpise before he made eye contact with you, now right in front of you.

“it’s okay,” he said. the words were slow and soft as if he wanted them to materialize in the air for you to see. you couldn’t help it when your eyes teared up as you stared at his blue ones, so impossibly untainted and unnatural in their own right, different than the river or grass fields or pretty crystals or anything at all. for a moment you had a silly thought about all the crazy things armin had told you about the outside, none of them making sense and sounding so supernatural that they surely couldn’t be real, and for a moment you thought that if somehow they were real, these eyes, these impossible orbs were made from the same stuff. supernatural stuff, stuff of nonsense, and that they belonged out there and not in here.

and then he offered you his hand, and you cleared away the mess of over-mature thinking by resolving that he was here now, and you’d be by his side while you had him. for as long as you could.

you look upon him now. you look at supernatural eyes that peer down at mikasa, quiet, powerful mikasa, holding her back from the sound of boot hitting bone. his eyes tell her that this is what needs to happen.

you stand close to the wall, not innocent in the eyes of the soldiers around you but not as guilty as the titan shifter who sits on the floor with blood seeping into his mouth, a disappointed captain before him.

you haven’t been restrained—yet—because of eren’s claim that he more or less forced your hand, as he had done to everyone else when he planned his scheme. it wasn’t entirely untrue. eren told you what he hoped to do all that time ago, because he needed your help. he wouldn’t go to mikasa because of her priority for his safety nor to armin for his priority on peaceful resolve. eren knew you were neither emotionally attached to his wellbeing nor against necessary violence. you didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to act as a spy who gathered information for eren on his best means of communication, the weakest link the command for him to access, and all other needs. but eren told you he’d do it whether you joined him or not, and he wouldn’t ask anyone else, and that having a second hand to facilitate his intelligence would drastically increase his chances of seeing his plan through, therefor the chances of the survey corps making it out of this alive.

no one has come to talk to you yet, but you know that you’ll be dealt with, and you could already predict the questions. when they ask you why you didn’t find another way, you won’t have an answer. you’re sure armin would’ve found a better way and convinced eren of it, or that mikasa would’ve never allowed him to sneak out like he did. but you’re not either of those people, and so when they ask, you won’t have an answer.

for now, all you can do is memorize the faces and figures of your friends whom you haven’t seen in so long. you note mikasa’s hair that’s even shorter than before. the titan markings beneath armin’s eyes. eyes that you avoid desperately because they hurt to look at. they’re just as entrancing, but it’s different now. he finally made it outside the walls. and all that used to be nonsense isn’t anymore. now it’s just the way the world goes, vast and cruel and sometimes beautiful, and those blue catastrophes fit right in.

when he stood at the door of the aircraft and didn’t wait longer than seconds, mere seconds, before he reached out a hand to take his best friend’s, the man who’d turned him into a killer. a crushing truth for you to realize, and as such you can’t even bear to think of armin’s own feelings about it. and yet, he looked him in the eyes. and yet, he took eren’s hand, and in the way only soulbound people can, he spoke words into eren’s heart that only they two could know.

the knowledge of this alone is so much to bare that for the next night and day, you don’t dare go near them.

almost twenty-four hours pass and still all you can do is stare ahead at food rations on the table before you. the aircraft kitchen is small and has exactly three tables lined up for seating. two soldiers sit at the table furthest from you and talk in quiet murmurs while you sit alone, unable to eat.

the door opens and before you can even command your sluggish mind to take note of it, armin is sitting beside you. once you realize it, your whole body tenses. your head instinctually moves to look in his direction, but you stop it before it can, casting a sidelong look in his direction. there’s a book in his hand that he places on his other side. from your peripheral, he doesn’t look at you either. he stares ahead, but you can’t see his face to read what he wants.

“i’ve given you space.”

your entire chest tightens at the sound of his voice. he’s a man now, but somehow the soft timbre is as clear as it was so that “i’ve given you space” sounds not so very different from “i’m looking at crystals.”

“i thought maybe that’s what you needed. but now i don’t know. now i feel like you’re just avoiding me.”

breathing becomes near impossible. you watch you own chest rise and fall heavily and wonder how you can still feel no air in your throat. you can’t look at him. you don’t dare.

“y/n.” don’t say that, you think, the first thought you’ve managed since he got the jump on you. he turns to you then, and still you don’t look. “are you avoiding me?”

you tell yourself you won’t look, won’t talk, won’t acknowledge he’s there, but as soon as he asks you the question, you feel a reply formulating. you don’t have the ability to refuse him. you’re at his mercy, even if it’ll break you.

“i don’t know how to be around you,” you say in a choppy, breathless whisper. armin leans in to hear it, and now you can feel his breath, smelling of brown sugar and fruits from his lunch. at feeling him so close to you after so many months, you suck in your top lip as if it’ll keep you together.

“why not?” and he’s hurt. you can hear it. all his hurt seeps out his pours and all the holes in his body so that even if you don’t look into his face, you can feel it stabbing at your heart. guilt. guilt.

“i’ve caused you pain.” the words are too much, and your chin trembles uncontrollably. the door opens to let in two more soldiers who turn into the kitchen and begin rummaging through a drawer. you bow your head to hide the evident grief on your face. armin breathes onto your cheek and thinks and thinks.

“eren made you do it, y/n. it wasn’t your fault.”

you shake your head lightly.

“‘should’ve done more.” the two soldiers mull over their options of snacks for awhile.

“y/n.” how you wish he’d stop saying your name. “y/n, look at me.” deviantly, you shut your eyes, stiffening your face as much as you possibly can, because you can’t hold on much longer, not when he keeps pushing you like this. not in front of other soldiers, you beg him in your mind. and maybe in a way he understands, because it’s not until the pair in the kitchen have selected a food and walked out that armin raises a hand to your chin and delicately guides your head to face him. you suck in a breath and squeeze your mouth shut to hold onto the anguish inside you, and then you’re looking at him. the first of your tears falls when you see the concerned, pained set of his brow, his soft lips downturned like a sad pup. his eyes. they burn into you. they wither the fabric of your soul.

“y/n,” he says again, letting go of your chin. you know he can’t find words to say, because there are no words. no words for all that’s happened and all you’ve done. rather than speaking, he does something much worse.

he reaches into your lap where your hands are clasped by the fingers in an iron grip. panic fills your features as you shake your head fearfully at him, but he doesn’t exercise mercy on you as he takes your two hands into one of his, warm and scarred and you can’t breathe.

he pulls your hands to his own lap, and in a stroke of—all you can call it—madeness, he delicately pulls your hands apart and places one of his own on his lap, palm facing the ceiling. he settles one of your hands on his palm and nestles the other one underneath, as if guiding you to hold one of his hands with yours. immediately, you understand the words he’s delivered to your heart. your face crumbles, shoulders sag. you stare into his palm and trace shaky fingers across ridges where beneath skin lies bones. you feel each line that builds to make peculiar images and spell all kinds of words, that forms the illustration of a boy filled to the brim with pain and somehow exhuming only love. a beaten boy lying behind a house and staring into the sky, a boy whose eyes don’t really resemble anything at all because maybe they’re unearthly, an entire world unto themselves, a boy whose mere existence pains you because you can’t take his pain away and he’s far too pure to have endure so much. a good boy.

tears drip onto your pants and take over your cheeks in silent anarchy, because you can’t take whatever it is this boy is made out of. because he offers his hand to you and still meets your eyes after everything, and because his palm spells forgiveness.

your eyes find his, and say there in silent grief as your hands touch. his gaze is calm, peaceful, assuring. in it you see refuge. redemption. you think that maybe your soul can take it. you bare all of yourself to him in one look, but you trust him completely.

after some time, the two soldiers remaining get up and dispose of their dishes in the sink, casting side glances at the colossal titan and the rogue soldier who hold hands on the eating table. they take their leave.

you try to put it into words. and of course, of course there are none.

“armin,” you breathe. you inhale sharply, because finally it comes. “oh, armin…” you sob, slowly descending into his chest. his arms come around you, and he cradles the back of your head and holds your upper body against himself. you grip his shoulders for dear life and lay your face into his neck, finally, finally, weeping.

“i’m sorry,” you choke. your tears are hot and wet on his neck.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “it’s okay.” you shake your head as if to say it’s not and he runs a hand up and down your back as if to say it is. i promise it is.

he reaches behind him to pull one of your hands off his shoulder and hold it in his own, bringing them to his chest. your close contact makes it so both your hands press against both your ribcages at once, and astonishingly, you can hear two heartbeats.

“armin,” your body shakes in his embrace.

he squeezes your hand hard enough to hurt, but you squeeze back just as tight. as if to say to you, stay with me, and as if to tell him, i will. i will.

#this fic was written over the duration of like 2 weeks so sorry if it’s choppy!#nia.txt #nia.armin #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager #attack on titan season 4 #eren yaeger headcanons #attack on titan spoilers #eren jeager x reader #armin arlert #armin arlet x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin x reader #armin arlert imagine #armin attack on titan #armin aot

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