#sometimes it feels really shitty to be deaf

[cripplecharacters]

what are the top 5 things you'd like to see a disabled character do in a story?

Hey! This is a very vast question and a lot of it would depend on the character's actual disability - I have completely different wishlists for what I'd like to see intellectually disabled characters do versus what I'd like to see characters with facial differences do. Different stereotypes and tropes affect different groups of disabled people differently - to work with this fact, the below list will try to account for as large amount of disabled character as I can reasonably think of, but it won't have as much detail as you might want. If you have a specific kind of character in mind, feel free to send another ask.

Not in specific order:

Disabled characters being in love. Disabled x disabled, disabled x abled, disabled x very different kind of disabled, all these variants but including more than 2 characters (since I've yet to see a polyamorous disabled character), all of this.

And I mean in actual relationships, not the pitiful and devoid of actual chemistry thing that we usually get (think "really sad disabled man only becomes happy after an abled woman takes pity on him, but they never kiss or god forbid have sex because that's gross and the disableds surely don't do that anyway").

I want to see an interabled couple going through IVF because they want to have kids, a wife with hemiplegia getting to grow old and wrinkly with her autistic husband, a lesbian with Treacher Collins syndrome moving in with her chronically ill girlfriend after a month of knowing each other, DeafBlind men getting hands on each other in the bathroom of a shitty nightclub, a trans woman with autism asking out a trans man with Down syndrome via her AAC tablet, a neurotypical guy with an obvious crush on his classmate with cerebral palsy.

I want to actually see disabled people being shown as desirable partners, good parents and grandparents, potential crushes, going through some new feelings and going on both good and bad dates, from all walks of life, of all sexualities and genders. Just like abled people.

Disabled characters participating in their community. Especially severely and/or visibly disabled characters. This is obviously a concept as vague as it could possibly be, but a big problem with a lot of disabled characters is that they don't... do anything. Not in the sense that they aren't "active enough", but that they aren't really... characters. They're often reduced to a family member who's at home and maybe the abled character takes care of them sometimes, but that's seemingly all that happens; they have no interests, hobbies, agency, preferences, or an internal thought process. All they do is wait for an abled savior to do something to them, not even with them.

I want to see more disabled characters who have jobs (whether it's a "regular" job, a supported employment workplace, a creative job that maybe they can only do a few hours a week, or self-care as a full-time job kind of thing), participating in hobbies that are accessible and/or modified to their ability level, emailing or sending pigeon letters to their friends, trying out new stuff that they're interested in, having actual complex relationships with their caregivers. Anything to actually make them feel like characters that exist in their setting, not just cardboard cutouts that the author had no ideas for.

Disabled characters who are a part of real-world disability (and adjacent) culture. Obviously also a vast topic. Most disabled characters, regardless of setting, are completely separated from concepts that were made by disabled people for disabled people; usually the connection to disability is their actual medical condition and a sterile mobility aid. This is not incorrect or bad to represent since that describes a lot of people, but I'd like to simply see more variety.

I want to see disabled characters who do parasports, who are excited about tactile art, went to blind/Deaf/SPED schools, call themselves #a babe with a mobility aid, decorate their AAC device, learn about disabled history, experience Feelings when hearing that Neanderthals cared about their disabled children, go to disability-centric events or support groups to meet people similar to them.

Do all disabled people do these? Absolutely not, but I'd like for even 1% of fictional characters to represent those who do.

Yeah I just want more disabled characters doing sports. As in real-life sports that real-life disabled people do, apologies to all the fantasy swordfighting that's out there.

There are so many sports out there we can do, some are adapted, some have a sitting or wheelchair version, while others were made specifically for us. Team sports are such a good opportunity to have your character have a community of people like them, have interesting dynamics, yet the only anything I can think of that's about it is REAL by Takehiko Inoue (wheelchair basketball) and the art by @/gayaest / @/sproutwiki (sitting volleyball). Also some Paralympics documentaries that I can count on a single hand - there's like three of them.

I want to see characters who are starting out and really suck at their sport, ones who are decent, ones with ridiculous sports-anime-level over the top abilities. I want to see all kinds of sports done by all kinds of disabled characters; blind kids learning goalball with their blind parents, quadriplegic guys working their ass off to qualify for national murderball championships, folks using sticker-covered bright-pink ramps in their boccia games, people with POTS playing along with their abled partner on their wheelchair rugby league team, standing fencers becoming disabled and adapting to wheelchair fencing that they love just as much. More disabled people having fun, knowing other disabled people, having interests!

Also, parasports are just cool as fuck and interesting to both watch and read about.

Disabled characters getting to make bad decisions. Disability representation is often extremely black-and-white in terms of morality: the character is either an angel who always does the right thing and talks about being grateful a lot, or the character is comically evil, wanting revenge because of their disability, hating their disability, constantly in grief and anger since not a single mildly ok thing happened to them since they became disabled. Neither of these feel like real people.

Disabled characters should be able to say hurtful things, get mad, lie, and whatever else, without being demonized to hell for it the same way abled characters are. They should be allowed to consciously make a decision that they shouldn't take (also known as "dignity of risk" in context of disability). They should get the same consequences for mistakes as everyone else and need to have the opportunities to actually make them.

In a much shorter way: more complex disabled characters.

These are things that I'd enjoy seeing for disabled characters. But the main thing would probably be that I want more of them. The scope of disabled characters in media is so painfully narrow because there's so few of them + they're usually capped at one per series. More writing featuring multiple disabled people please.

Here is a list of wishes from other mods who wanted me to throw them here:

Disabled characters who act like the author did more than a 10 min google search about their disabilities. [So authors doing actual research.]

More disabled characters of color. A lot of time disabled characters are white because it's only acceptable for them to be one kind of marginalized. In real life that's not how it works. People of color are disabled too!

Characters with comorbidities, characters with physical and mental health and developmental symptoms. Disability doesn't just come with one cut and dry disorder all the time - you can even be diagnosed with some things and undiagnosed with others.

[A character can have 5 comorbidities, or 5 completely unrelated disabilities - both happen. Or, most frequently, a bit of both.]

Characters existing in all parts of their diagnostic journey. [So characters who are yet to be diagnosed, currently investigating their symptoms, ones recently diagnosed, and ones who had their diagnosis for their whole lives - and as mentioned previously, you can be on one stage with disability A, and on another with disability B.]

Characters whose whole life isn't just tragedy/struggle! See this a lot when a story with disabled character is just about how life is hard for them as disabled person. Would love disabled characters being leads in other genres and just existing as people. Not to say disability isn't a struggle, but there is more to life and person than disability.

mod Sasza

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

I've Got Somebody To Love

“Ay, lover, get up. We’re going out for breakfast.” 

It was decided on a whim. Ian sometimes makes remarks about doing couple-y things with Mickey. It’s just not his thing. He’s more than satisfied staying home, eating pizza bagels and watching a shitty movie. 

But he’s far more open now. He’ll go out to a shitty diner so they can eat overly salty food while the waiter tries to make small talk that he’ll ignore, just so Ian can be happy. And he’ll do it because he loves him. Plain and simple. 

“What?” Ian pushes himself up, rubbing his bleary eyes. 

“You deaf or somethin’?” Mickey swats at his foot still under the blanket. “We’re going out for breakfast. No pop tarts for us today.” 

“Why?” 

“My God-do I need a fucking reason to take my husband out?” Mickey is in the midst of grabbing a shirt, and if that shirt so happens to be Ian’s, well so fucking what? He shoots Ian a look of exasperated disbelief. “Jesus...” 

“No,” Ian is a little more awake and he props himself up by his elbows. He stares curiously at Mickey. “But you do hate mornings. And people.” 

“Yeah, well. I’m doing it for you. Said you wanted to do that sometimes. Get your ass up and let’s move.” 

Ian’s grin is blinding. His eyes are all big and doe-y like fucking bambi. Mickey’d be lying if he said it doesn’t make his damn heart beat a little harder. “You know I love you, right?” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey grumbles, going into the bathroom to slather toothpaste on his toothbrush. He tries to suppress his own smile, though he’s more than sure Ian’s already seen it. “If you’re not ready in ten, I’m leaving without you.” 

Ian stretches his arms, just laying there for another minute or two. “I was having a really good dream, you know,” he hums. 

“Oh, yeah?” Mickey says when he’s done in there, his clothes already thrown on. 

Ian catches him by the loop in his jeans, and pulls Mickey a little closer. He peeks up at him through his eyelashes, his voice going low. “Fucking mind-blowing blow job.” 

Mickey grins, holding onto Ian’s chin. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. And maybe I'll get something mind-blowing from you too someday."

His words set in and Mickey shoves him away, laughing. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

Ian’s laughing too, rolling onto his back again. “You should’ve seen your goddamn face.” 

“Fuck you, man,” Mickey says when he calms down, shaking his head. “Ay, you’re laughing now but not you won’t be later when all you’ve got to touch your dick is your left hand.” 

Ian just raises a lazy arm to flip him off. 

Mickey shuts the door behind him, plopping down on the couch to wait. While he does that, he glances out the window, immediately wrinkling his nose at the sight across at the other side of the building. The couple’s blinds are open, allowing him to see them attempting some kind of yoga position. Thank fuck Ian never actually made him attend that stupid fucking yoga class this place offered. 

Yeah, he’s definitely not doing whatever the hell they're doing. 

What are they doing? Mickey gets up to peer closer. They’re making a box shape, he realizes with his eyebrows furrowed. Or a square? Either way, it’s weird as hell, them all stretched out and held onto each other’s ankles like that. 

Jesus, he could write a fucking book on all the weird ass shit that goes on in this place. 

“You ready?” Ian’s out now, running both hands through his hair. It’s grown out a bit since they’ve been here, not like how Mickey’s had been when he broke out of prison, but he’s got a couple pieces of longer hair like he did back when Svet and Yev were still in the picture. 

“Yeah,” Mickey turns around, and feels warmth pool in his stomach. 

There’s a familiar red and gray checkered flannel he’s wearing over a brown t-shirt. His jeans are dark too, just like Mickey’s. Overall, he looks almost strikingly similar to his fifteen year self, without the fringe, plus his freckles are much lighter now. 

And holy fuck does he look good. Ian’s fiddling with his phone, unaware that Mickey’s blatantly staring. At least for a moment. 

“What?” He says, puzzled. 

And well, at one point back when he was under Terry’s thumb, scared out of his fucking mind and hating himself for who he really was, Mickey would’ve shot back something in response just to get the attention off him. 

Now, he doesn’t have to. 

It kind of hits him right then and there too, even though he’s been open to showing Ian how much he loves him for a while now. 

He doesn’t have to hide it anymore. 

He’ll never have to go through anymore of his life pretending he doesn’t find Ian fucking Gallagher attractive or some shit. And it’s really fucking great. 

Mickey smiles softly, standing in front of him, holding onto a fistful of the flannel. Ian’s hand comes around to rest on the back of his shoulder, and they just stay like that. “You look really fucking good, man.” 

“Okay,” Ian says, amused. 

“M’serious,” Mickey murmurs. “Reminds me of some kid I used to like back in the day.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Some freckly, alien looking fucker. Real annoying.” 

Ian laughs softly, kissing Mickey sweetly. “I could probably say the same about the bastard I have to live with.” 

“Go easy on that bastard. It ain’t easy to live with your ginger ass,” Mickey teases. 

Ian swats at his ass when they let go of each other. “At least I wipe the toilet seat,” he shrugs, grinning when Mickey rolls his eyes. 

“For the love of God, we were in fucking prison!” 

“That’s no reason to leave piss on it!” 

If that couple across the way ever unties themselves, they would see the two of them making gestures with their arms, seemingly yelling until Ian pushes Mickey against the window for a searing kiss. 

Breakfast would have to wait. 

[privateanxieties]

for all you give (give it back to you)

Summary: The story of how you worm your way into Frank's heart and mind, making him believe he might be worth a second chance.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her, no y/n)

Words: 3,300 (hurt/comfort, fluff, some canon-typical descriptions of violence, allusions to sexual intimacy, romance, trauma healing)

--------------------------

It starts slowly, which Frank can attest is uncharacteristic of all events unfolding in his life. Even more puzzling, there's no grand design — it's soft and simple, the way she carves out a spot inside his heart. He runs into her every day on his evening run, and every day he gets more unsettled by the thought of danger lurking in the shadows of alleys and bridges, just waiting to swallow her up. It's not because of any budding affection that he feels, at least not at this point. He doesn't even know her name. What he knows is how he was raised, and if anyone condemns him for being old-fashioned in his views, then so be it. He can't bear knowing she's out there past ten at night, wandering the streets of a shitty New York neighborhood in the name of cardio.

It's a progression of these thoughts that leads him to do the unthinkable and introduce himself one day, and the way he goes about it would make for good nightmare fuel, were he not already stocked up on that.

He pretends to trip and falls on his face. He's tried a version of this before with Sarah Lieberman, and back then just as well as now, he knew there was no other way. You don't just approach a woman who's outside at this time of night, especially if she wants to triple the danger for herself and wear those stupid noise-cancelling headphones. He'd expect someone his own age to have more sense than that, and sometimes he wonders if she's not just looking for trouble on purpose.

His assumption is rather quickly disproven, because nobody who speaks in the manner she does could ever be brazen enough to start a fight. No — she's all softness and kind eyes, and the gravel in his palms stops stinging the moment she pins him down with a concerned look and a soft hand around his wrist. It's a minute or two before she's got him following her to her private practice just a block away, because apparently he's a little too good at faking accidents. The nasty cut she stitches up for him with quiet precision and a rambling mouth doesn't even hurt, not when he's so focused on whatever's in her voice that he finds so familiar. She speaks in a way he can't seem to shake, like there's something there that his own mind knows intimately yet remains secretive about.

He should've said no to grabbing coffee the next day. He really should've refused, because now that he knows what her laugh sounds like, he's in real trouble. And he fights it, at first. He gives it his goddamn best. But a man like him knows when he's done for, despite all the bravado and all the willpower. He knew it the moment she looked away from him and stared into her black coffee, quietly telling him she was glad he let her help him, that he was going to say yes to the next coffee they'd grab together. And the next. And the next.

And eventually, his own rambling mouth — a novelty exclusive to her presence — reveals things it really shouldn't, like a first and last name he's supposed to have buried and forgotten, along with an identity he's sure will ruin dinner. The information falls on deaf ears. Not because she isn't paying attention; she seems to look at and see only him as he moves between the stove and the counter inside her kitchen, prepping his mother's old pasta recipe. No, Frank has a feeling she isn't just listening. Her gaze is as soft as always, yet this time there's a spark that finds him trapped, frozen in place in the middle of the kitchen while she raises one delicate eyebrow and says two baffling words: I know. Then, even more perplexing: I was waiting for you to be comfortable.

Comfortable. What does it mean for him to be comfortable? Is that what he was when he opened his mouth and revealed the truth? Or was he just compelled by attentive eyes and an openness that hurt to be in the presence of while he was still hiding his true self? He doesn't deserve her acceptance. He's not even sure he wants it. He's been past wanting things for years, just waiting for life to happen as he crawls along, fragments of what could've been fighting to quell his breath on each new day bestowed upon him. He's got nothing to want. Nothing to hope for.

So why doesn't he move when she approaches him, slowly, fearlessly, in the way one might a startled creature? Why does his chest tighten and expand all at once when she greets him tenderly, a whisper of his real name falling from her lips? Most importantly of all, why does she keep worming her way further inside his gut, and why doesn't it burn like he knows it should?

Maybe it's because she does it at a glacial pace, which a famously impatient man can't help but respect her for, at the same time that he fears the place from which that tenacity springs forth. A restoration project of his magnitude isn't just daunting — it's straight up dreadful, rotten floorboards and black mold eating away at every inch of a once proudly robust construction. It's not smooth sailing as the months dissolve away, but she perseveres. He has bad days and worse nights, and every time they bid each other farewell once the clock strikes eleven and their run ends, Frank's mind is left to stew in words and gestures that make no goddamn sense — his and hers both.

For one, he's smiling what feels like all the fucking time. What he's so happy about when his life is what it is, only God may know. What he knows is that there's no possible way to keep his lips flat and his chest empty when she tells him stories of long nights in the emergency room spent removing dubious objects from places they really shouldn't be. One too many phallic contraptions was what it took for her to finally quit hospital work and open a private practice. Frank tries and fails to keep a straight face while asking her to describe the experience. She, on the other hand, meets his challenge head-on, attempting to draw a diagram of the witty invention on the napkin resting by her coffee — thus, a weird game of pictionary unfolds between them, and they have to stuff their pockets with no less than eight scandalous napkins each before leaving a generous tip for giggling like lunatics the entire time.

Next, and maybe this one's all in his head, but she's on a frequency his stubbornness can't find fault with. She gives him space when he needs it. Sometimes they don't see each other for days, despite living less than five blocks apart, and never does she push for contact. She doesn't ask him what he does during that time away, maybe because she knows or maybe for the same reason she didn't tell him she knew who he was. Maybe she's waiting for him to confess how he still spends a good deal of his nights, despite not needing the confirmation. She lets him come to her and he does it without fail each time, though his little I'm sorry for my radio silence apology tokens don't hold a lot of variety. She likes flowers, coffee and whatever baked goods he can get his hands on, so now Frank is a regular at the neighborhood florist and a fancy bakery on 51st knows his order.

Most of all, he's baffled by how little needs to be said between them for a world of knowledge to be exchanged. She gently coaxes one or two sentences from him that leave a lot to be desired in the way of details, but then she meets his eyes as they sit next to each other on her couch. And finally, he tells her — not with words, but with his own eyes, blinking rapidly or not at all, dry as the desert one moment and the next suddenly flooding. He tells her about a little girl he had, one whose body would have only been identified by prints or dentals. He weeps over his baby boy without so much as a cry, because he too left the world a worse place for his departure. And where he used to mutter it to himself repeatedly, Frank says his wife's name only once— he says it with the same reverence as always, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the comfort he receives from another woman.

He knows Maria wouldn't blame him, but he's not so sure he isn't blaming himself. Whatever he's doing here, it needs to stop. Whatever he tells himself her soft touches mean, or those looks, or that smile — he can't be right. This isn't meant for him. He shouldn't have this. There should be no one he looks forward to seeing, no one he thinks about before the thundering fall of hammer on concrete and after the laying of his body down to rest. There shouldn't be anyone to stay his hand and extinguish his anger. Only rage should exist, because rage is the only thing he really has. He doesn't know what he is if not this, and he makes the mistake of telling her as much while she stitches up the first real wound he's gotten in a long time. Neither of them pretends not to know what the result of a knife fight looks like, and he doesn't tell her how it went down because she doesn't ask. It's a good thing, because every time he closes his eyes and sees that woman's face as she was held at knifepoint, his mind superimposes different features onto it and his blood boils over. All he saw in that moment was her. All the cops are going to see at the scene will be scattered fingers and a leaking skull.

Frank himself doesn't feel very put together as he fights sleep under her caress, a hug he didn't ask for suddenly enveloping him whole and quieting the one-track mind winding him up repeatedly. He was late for their run tonight. That could've been her. His fault, his fault, his fault. The words disappear when she finds the nape of his neck with a gentle touch, drawing him into her chest and resting her cheek atop his head when he finally relaxes. His own hands grasp at the plush edges of her exam table, mimicking her gestures almost subconsciously but not daring to reciprocate on actual flesh. Seconds pass, and then minutes.

My sister died because of me.

The words startle him like a shot went off right by his ear, when in fact they were barely whispered. Frank, however, doesn't move when frightened. He's learned this about himself: he can never twitch a muscle in any of his nightmares, can never stop what he knows is coming. He can't stall the tragedy any more than he can avoid feeling its effects.

I used to run with her. That was our thing. I got mad about something… something petty, I'm sure. And I didn't go one night. Just one time. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous. Should've told her not to go, but I didn't. Cops were at my door the next morning. She was stabbed four times. The thing is, she would've survived, if she'd had someone to help her. Someone who knows their way around first aid.

He can feel her shaking from their closeness, can infer what she's thinking by the slight change in her voice. She's all blame, that's what it is. That's what it was when she first spoke to him all those months ago, and he latched onto it without even knowing, pulled in by soft eyes that glimmered in understanding. He thought it was unending kindness that he glimpsed in there, and in part, that was still true. But there was something else that lingered, something that seemed to inform her approach with him over the better part of a year. That frequency he stupidly thought she was on didn't happen by magic, or by fate. They didn't click because of some grand plan. It was simply life in all of its unfairness, dealing out blows to whoever it found with their guard down, deserving or not.

She doesn't deserve this. Frank knows it, and his chest puffs up in defiance of the pain in her voice as she tells him about the night they met from her perspective. It was a few short weeks after her sister's death. That evening run had become a ritual of a different nature, and he realizes with some horror what it was she'd been trying to do. The headphones made sense now, not as a tool of the careless, but of a person who cared too much. Cared enough to try to invite danger inside, scope it out and lure it back from the shadows in the hopes that she might look upon it herself. Confront it herself.

She confirms as much when she tells him they still haven't found the killer.

She made herself an easy target so she could look a murderer in the eye, and with that thought, he does finally recoil. He wants to argue. Wants to refute the notion. He can't. He can't, because to take that truth away from her would be to take it away from himself. She did what she thought she had to do. The difference is, she still has all her humanity left, yet the blame can't seem to leave. It eats away at the light inside her eyes, and despite that she's not bitter. She doesn't recoil from company or people in general, and she doesn't abandon everything she knows in favor of oblivion and a corner to waste away in. It's unfair. It's not right to live with it and still have to function. It's not right to have to get up and be a good person in a world of shit. It's not right… and she does it anyway. For a man who sees only one kind of injustice, the realization is almost enough to demolish him. That's life — you can be riddled with guilt and still unflinchingly gracious.

It's just never that simple, Frank muses quietly, until it is. It's never this quiet in his mind, unless she's somewhere near.

For the first time ever, he wishes she wouldn't wait for him to move or speak. He can see it in her face, what she needs, but much like him, she won't ask for it. He wishes she knew that there's nothing she can't ask of him, but since she doesn't, he's gonna have to make that clear. And if he has to move at a glacial pace too, then so be it. He'll worm his way in just like she did, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the same tenacity she showed. By the way she leans her cheek into his palm, he doesn't think she will.

It's a little easier after that, as more months melt away, to stop questioning everything they do together and its meaning. When they laugh together, it doesn't feel foreign or undeserved. When he has bad days, he doesn't hide any place beyond her apartment, doesn't stray much farther than her sheets and doesn't utter many words besides praise for how she moves and feels around him. When she has bad days, which he's come to learn the look of, he unearths the meaning of devotion to something other than rage. He's not known desperation like this for longer than he can remember, because it takes a while to figure out what she needs and how to help. He thought he could see it clearly, but all he'd really been looking at was another one of those injustices. Frank turned his grief into anger. She's unfairly burying hers inside and watching it lay waste with a careful eye, never cowardly enough to admit to what she really wants. She's so brave, this woman. His.

He almost can't believe he's thinking it. Frank's role as protector ended with the last breath his family took. He didn't think it could ever be born again, but with the first tears to fall from her eyes, a brief moment sees him meeting a different type of rage. It scalds, but doesn't leave him empty. That's how it used to feel when he was all consumed with it just a few years ago. Instead, it's just a means to an end now. So he starts going out again, looking for the shadows that haunt her, because the only thing that will help her is the thing only he can provide. Kisses help. Hushed promises soothe. True healing, and he knows this in his bones, can only come after an end, and that's what she never got. She graciously gifted him a fledgling second life, but he won't start living it until she meets him halfway.

You did it for me. Let me do it for you.

He doesn't try to lie to her — it doesn't even occur to him. He tells her the truth and his plan in full as she sits on the couch and he paces her living room restlessly, now and then chancing a look at her. At first, there's silence. It stretches unbearably, and when she speaks, the tide breaks.

I don't know what hurts more. The fact that she's gone, or that it's my fault.

Hey—

No matter what, that won't change. I've thought about it. Killing the man who did it won't make it any less my fault or her any less dead. Frank, I—

Sweetheart—

It's you. You're… the only part of this equation I didn't see coming. You're the only thing that makes a difference. When I have bad days, I don't think about the man I want to see dead. I think about the one that makes me feel alive.

She says things like this sometimes — things that yank his heart straight from his chest and stomp on it until it comes apart at the seams. He's practically vibrating with it, this need to say something in return, but nothing rises to the magnitude of her confession. At least, nothing that he thinks he's earned the right to say to another person again. But his girl… She knows. He can see it in her eyes that she knows, because he's on her knees in front of her, holding her face in both his hands. Frank has done so much with them throughout his life. He's taken more than he's given. He's hurt more than he's comforted, ripped apart more than he's put together. What he now uses them for is as sacred as a thing can be, because if he won't speak it with his lips, he'll press it into her skin with his fingers. If the words won't form in his mouth, he'll use it to adorn her body with the reverence of a man who has found and lost and found again.

In the end, as his hands rewire themselves for holding and forget all else, he stops questioning it entirely. Whether by accident or by design, what's been given to them both is not something to make sense of. It's something to cherish, a devotion to each other that consumes not, but instead nurtures. He knows now the answer to that most important question: if she wormed his way inside his heart and the path she trailed doesn't burn, it's because she belonged there all along.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I fell in love with it in just one afternoon. Please let me know what you thought of it, and if you liked it, kindly allow others to reach it through a reblog or comment. Thank you for reading.

[tiredlilguy]

The Flags HC's

(that nobody asked for... but i love them and I have no where to put these) note: these are just general hc's :P if you want me to make other ones lmk!

Pianoman: - his ass cannot play piano, when people asks if he can because of his name, he changes the subject because he feels embarrassed - is the oldest sibling in his family - since he's a perfectionist, he's also kind of his own worst critic (can be in a really shitty mood if he's alone with his thoughts for too long) - his hair is a result of vitiligo - is an anxious person, but somehow his anxiety goes away when he's with The Flags - whenever he handles something physically using his hands, he's very cautious and tends to treat whatever is in his hands gingerly (like if he's given a gift, he will gently hold it in his hands instead of just taking it like normal) - has naturally shaky hands (i want to give him a big hug and kiss :( ) - going along with his hands, they're very thin, so his gloves are thick enough to where you don't really know what they look like underneath - has a really shitty sense of humor and will laugh at that one meme video with the bread falling on it's side - has defined canines and it shows if he opens his mouth or smiles

Lippman: - gets to know all of the celebrity drama before it gets out in the media: sometimes he uses it for blackmail or just tells the others and they all become a little gossip group (it's mostly just him, iceman, and chuuya though...) - he can make really good tea, like knows every little detail that comes with making tea: not leaving out a single step so you can get the best flavor out of the tea - polyglot, he once had to learn english for a role that he had and then proceeded to teach himself any language he thought was cool (sometimes mumbles in a different language under his breathe to mess with chuuya) - flirts with Pianoman a lot, says it's for fun, but he might have a little crush - wears that really dramatic silk robe with feathers and drags on the floor, it's either white or baby blue - paints his nails and will paints Chuuya's nails sometimes to practice, Chuuya says he's only doing it because he's his superior, but secretly enjoys it - unintentionally fixes The Flags outfits or hair, mostly Chuuya: like he'll adjust Iceman's collar if it's standing up, or he'll comb Chuuya's hair back into a nicer ponytail if it gets messy throughout the day

Iceman: - has a niece, and is the BEST uncle to her, likes to spoil her and will literally do anything for her (i read this from a fic and i can't stop thinking about it) - loves hearing gossip despite not talking that much - insomniac, spends most of his nights listening to his records with whiskey unless he has a job to do - plays his records really loud, but his listening room is sound proof so he can hear every little detail in the music - likes records, but he actually prefers live bands instead, thinks records are classy - gifts Chuuya records if he notices that Chuuya is singing a song to himself, usually tries to find the song and gets Chuuya that record of the album - is slowly becoming deaf, the only person that knows is Pianoman and Lippman, and he's slowly teaching The Flags sign language when they're on missions with him (he'll say it's because he wants to be quiet) (he won't admit it, but he will miss not being able to hear the others banter in the background anymore) - doesn't actually care about his ego/reputation at all, he's pretty confident in his assassinations, but if he fails a job, he'll just sigh and smoke a cigarette and move on - does not style his hair, he wakes up in the morning and moves it around a little bit and that's his hair for the day - he can't see out of his right eye that has the scar, but when he feels invoked with an emotion, he'll open that eye - notices small details... like extremely small details: one's that you won't even be thinking about; probably remembers what people like when they mention they like it once, knows when someone gets a haircut or they change colognes

Doc: - silly guy (canon) - he judges people's fashion taste despite not wearing any sort of outfit himself: likes to give pointers to Lippman about how to style his shirt or will judge Chuuya's strange outfits; will put on a good outfit if he's feeling like it - is very good at video games, but he doesn't really play them in his free time, but once Chuuya offered to play a video game with him and Doc beat his ass (Chuuya is still salty over an old Mario Cart match) - avoids walking long distance otherwise he'll start to feel tired, Albatross offers to take Doc everywhere - really good at darts... like his accuracy is scarily amazing, but guess you can't expect less from a doctor with his credentials - his way of showing affection is by being... very uncomfortably close to someone and then waiting to see if they're going to react, if they acknowledge his presence he smiles and then just walks away - very fidgety when he's doing something that isn't his job, will often fidget with something in his hand like a paper clip or rubber band, but suddenly that all goes away when it involves work - youngest sibling in his family... idk he gives me that energy

Albatross: - uses text emojis like ":D" and ":O" and so on; it does not matter who he is texting and he can and will accidentally text that to Mori on the phone (then proceeds to get lectured heavily by Pianoman) - answers his phone/messages immediately the moment that he gets them - can and will talk his ass off for hours on end, sometimes he does it to annoying Chuuya, but sometimes Chuuya actually wants to listen to it all - metalhead, this is canon actually i'm asagiri - gives the best hugs, like he gives big bear hugs; greets all of the Flags with hugs despite they're reactions - human heater, is always warm and it doesn't matter what season it is... he's just strangely warm all of the time (sometimes Doc sits next to him during the winter or if he's cold because he gets cold easily, and is a lot thinner than the rest of them) - openly bi, like he talks about it all of the time if he finds a man attractive

" I mean I know this man is our next target, but his ass looks nice in this file photo- " " Albatross." " Sorry.

-has freckles on his cheeks - has heterochromia, his eyes are blue and red

Chuuya: - has freckles... like everywhere, used to cover them up with makeup when he was younger and around The Flags, but then forgot one time and then Lippman said that it fit him and he stopped covering them up - can pick up any instrument he finds and owns a couple of guitars - huge audiophile and will judge every pair of headphones or recorde/cd/speakers that he's given; the record player in his house is very extra and over 2000 dollars - sings to himself when he's doing chores, or if he's playing music in the background, he will dance and sing while sweeping the floor - despite being musical, his dancing tends to be very clumsy (was once caught by Albatross and he made fun of him for a whole week) - can speak French and will cuss in French without thinking when he gets annoyed - knows all of the Mafia gossip, but no one knows he's a gossip-y kind of person... he knows everything about everyone, often finds himself hearing two different sides of one story - shopaholic (he cannot close his closet door anymore because the door is broken because it's so crowded in there)

[dilfhos]

sooo this is gonna be a messy rant on the observations ive made between different writer communities, blog interactions and overall “status”. just silly little things I’ve noticed in my 4+ years being on tumblr btwn 2 diff blogs. and this is about no one specific, a very generalized post so if you find urself offended i honestly dont know what to tell you?? :o do better ig. & if you relate, i feel for you. TLDR @/end.

i dont like interacting/ building connections with people but not for the reasons ppl think. im not stuck up or pretentious or weird or anything. just another anime-enjoyer who loves to write in her free time. nobody special by a longshot!! i enjoy writing, always have since before i was a teen. (wasn’t always ff tho!).

but over the years ive just noticed fandom writing has its gritty sides that no one talks about often and its no mystery why so many prolific/ popular writers deactivated, me included. i had some shitty experiences and have seen friends go bc of it.

firstly, I’ve noticed, once you start interacting and building friendships with people, it’s easier to see the bigger perspective of where ppl stand and the blatant hierarchy of friendships and groups. same applies to that outside. like its literally just me n’ my bsf then my acquaintances bc mfs be weirddd omg its like cults or something. like thats why initially I didn’t interact w/anyone starting on my new blog. that n’ fear of drama following from my last blog ugh. ‘Cept the few i’ve met on my old blog (like my wifey)

not to mention i have bad anxiety. and sometimes im cue-deaf. i dont always pick up what people put down and vice versa and it makes me conscious in a lot of my interactions. so a part of me doesn’t want to interact at all to avoid all awkwardness and possible miscommunications. that’s not to say i don’t notice subtle changes in interactions after one situation / conversation or so forth, that in myself or witnessed between other ppl. (im perceptive, just not that good conversationalist lol. like i really have to try.)

but then…if you don’t interact with people on here, your chances of building an audience or a reader base is slim to none. the likelihood of developing relationships is zip. because you’re already perceived and pegged as just another tumblr writer. pause. to clarify, a writer who doesn’t want any recognition or interactions from mutuals or new friends. or just a lonely writer? a introverted, lonely writer. which leads to little to none interactions (anons, reblogs, moots —exposure.)

so then its like you’re kinda placed btwn a rock n a hard place. and there’s absolutely no problem with that! in fact this is the best part—meeting friends and like-minded people! people that make being online all the more worth it right? thirsting over fictional characters and sharing in each other’s works!

but you have to be in specific circles it seems. but then you can’t imply that you want to be in those circles bc then you’re desperate.

but well, then you cant purposefully want to be independent or be on your own or else you’re a hater, hypocrite or stuck up. not to mention, no one will reblog your stuff lol. no one will interact fr, and you’re friendless essentially. and god forbid if you disagree on something as if opinions don’t exist btw! then you’re being ganged up on. (like omg grow up!)

but then if you reach out you’re seen as trying to wedge in or kiss ass? you interact and follow and you’re ignored or left hanging? (bc im gonna touch your hand when i say this—it never gave fan, your majesty of horny nerds) and this is about ALL the writing communities and fandoms—spicy content, black content and dark content. ALL.

yet no one wants to talk about the pregnant elephant in the room—bias. and favoritism. also people seem to have a hard time being direct with how they’re feeling toward/about someone ( in a good or bad way) which in turn leads to a lot of miscommunication and subliminal attacks. (not to mention hate anons? one of my moots just had her inbox flooded w/them recently, ew.)

you can lead a horse to water AND you can write a 500-word essay on the observations made on tumblr writers as a whole. (a long ass post on the truth on behalf of those feeling this too)

also, slapping a HEY LOOK AT ME! IM A WRITER WHO WANTS INTERACTION AND FRIENDS! on a blog is frankly embarrassing. it shouldn’t even take all that seeing how easy it is for others wanting the same thing.

or doing less to achieve the same result.

not to mention, yall shit on ppl who essentially feel this way altogether bc you peg them as sb who doesn’t “try” or just jealous when their own works are phenomenally written themselves. ive seen it. and ive lived it. never gave jealousy baby.

at the end of the day, we’re all writers— either longterm or hobbyists. (personally, im longterm) self-indulgent or not! and its absolutely amazing when people are being fair in how they spread love and feedback to their writers.

Secondly, its not news that people have to want to reblog your fics so that their followers can reblog, so they can reblog, and their followers can reblog and so forth. but ppl honestly dont care atp bc once they’ve already read it, they owe you nothing. and apparently asking for reblogs is crass and bold. (imma do it anyway) but putting your very all into a story just to turn and see a half-thought out hc soaring 3k in 2hrs and 5k in a day — you have to stfu, open your ass and take it. keep it cute!

you’re getting fucked after all!!

because if you complain—you’re just jealous and lazy and uncreative!! and i hate that to seem like a writer worth a damn, you have to change up your writing style every two weeks to fit in with trending waves.

“no more poetic long fics, nobody’s into that! short, snappy slutty shots are all the rage!” “ppl are only into these specific tropes but you can’t exceed 2k words!” “only add trending characters to these hcs! ppl love them only!” “don’t write too much about a specific character or else ill unfollow you!” its exhausting.

i am well within my right as a literary artist to desire more feedback and interaction on anything i put out. period. and you are too! 🫵

God, im tired of that stupid, ‘you have to enjoy your writing for yourself and not worry about notes’ line. i do love my writing! don’t get me wrong there’s nobody id rather write like if not myself fr. not to mention the inspiration i draw from famous literary authors. however, i would love feedback and the same energy that i see with others in my same caliber.

and when i see others that didn’t even try fr—its a slap in the face to put it bluntly.

i can want silly little comments and notes about something i cherish and put out for that reason and yall aren’t gonna make me feel bad about it. sorry! like yall really be making people feel shitty for wanting the same type of interactions you get! especially when its harmless, bye asf. nb want to recipe to ur peach cobbler b!

the only one giving push back are those appointed popular /top blogs n’ cliques tho. now personally, i honestly dgaf if you have 20 followers or 25k, writing is writing and if its good you should want to support it regardless of following count/interaction right?

unfortunately, and quite unsurprisingly its not the case for the rest of this hellhole lol. there’s always gonna be some “big blog” in any part of tumblr or any social media for that matter.

but when the sole purpose being on a site like tumblr to write is mainly exposure, then it just makes it ten times worse especially if it seems that these blogs are steady at the top of every. single. tag. and listen, i know how initially stupid that sounds but when you’ve picked up on patterns for as long as i have, well iykyk.

so imma be real bc no one else will, half of the posts that yall see with 25k notes have alr been done. just different characters, different words, different dialogue. And 8/10 its been done by sb who only received 100 notes. Thats the evil part. whats more is that it lacks the creativity the one post with 100-300 notes is filled with completely.

POP QUIZ! what post would readers be more inclined to read? — one that says 10k (ohhh that must be popular!) or the one with only 150 (oh i guess nb really liked that one) that no one is even willing to reblog for MORE. and BOOM. now yall wonder why so many great writers LEAVE, its a fucking joke.

so unfortunately its no longer only about or only on readers anymore. its about who you know and who you know is willing to support your fr. who is willing to REBLOG your fics for their friends and followers, so that their friends and followers can reblog. to fit in you actually have to get in these days and it makes it all less enjoyable. makes it a chore and if you aren’t ‘doing it right’ ultimately it makes you feel shitty about your writing. (Please don’t, you are doing amazing. its the platform.)

it makes people not want to jump into writing. it pushes away those who actually want to join writing communities and meet people without feeling like they have to jump thru hoops to thrive or worse—live in other ppls shadows. and then it deters those from speaking up in fear of being shut down by bigger groups. ive seen it happen time and time again.

lastly, and this is the juiciest part! you absolutely cannot say anything about any of this bc you’re complaining and a fisher just looking for attention and not someone who just want things to be fair all over. play the game, right? ( wrong. and if this is your logic, you suck! )

its no longer about making flashy banners and pretty themes. its no longer about how many clever directory links you add or how many games you initiate on your blog or whether or not you’ve reblogged your fic three times already. its about your “friends”, other mutuals, and blogs willing to support you too. not just the audience. audience gonna do what they want regardless. reblog, don’t reblog, whatever. “at least ive read it right?” but everyone knows this. duh! but it’s obvious who doesn’t care as long as they’re on top of that tag! its admirable in a way but it sucks for those wanting to break out and build some kind of readerbase and/or make friends.

TLDR; people need to stop being bias and be fair and open lol. stop picking favorites and share the love all around. you see another person writing your favorite character or trope, give them a fucking chance and reblog, regardless if they’re in your ‘circle’ / radar or not. regardless if you know them or not. hell, let them put you on to a new fandom. bc writing is writing and making new moots and finding new fics seem to be what everyone loves to showcase until its time to actually do it. no wonder people get discouraged to make friends and write, yall treat it like some kind of secret society when its supposed to be fun💀 not a competition. (yall need to dead this clique-y shit. )

[a-confused-teen-venting]

hello there.

i came to do this post to apologize to anyone who has seen my previous post and have gotten hurt or felt terrible because of what i wrote.

for context, i made a distasteful post about how people who stay in toxic relationships and complain about their partner dont deserve to keep complaining if they are consciously still deciding to be together with the person. i argued that if they are deciding to be together with said person even if people try to give them advice about the relationship, they sometimes have an attitude about how they can decide what they want and often push people away to stay in that toxicity.

when making the post, i failed to realize that my post made it seem like i was victim blaming people for being in their own predicament, which is totally reasonable and it made me realize that i really was doing that while being an moron in my rant. i failed to acknowledge that a lot of people in toxic relationships struggle to let go of that abuse being as they are chained to it by many reasons, such as trauma or dependency.

i didnt delete the post sooner cause i log out from this account, but when i read the handful of comments letting me know of my tone deaf and shitty behavior, it made me realize how much of an asshole take it was, especially directed as a “vent”.

so to anyone who has read my previous post, im sorry.

i should be more compassionate towards people who cant have the strength to cut off those that are harmful to them. my lack of compassion and selfishness made me blind of the more painful experiences people go through. ill be more knowledgeable of abusive relationships in the future. my post wasnt meant to be harmful but it fully was and i now realize that.

im sorry.

now, to anyone who cares, i hope you dont mind if i give some context with the relationships im in that made me make that post in the first place. i understand if no one wants read about anything i say anymore, but i guess i wanted to share this.

TW: abuse, self harm in the second half of the explanation

there are two relationships that delivered the context of that post.

the first one is mainly the reason of the post.

friend got into his first relationship not too long ago. although things started off well with him and his girlfriend, recently he has been annoyed and disappointed with her.

he has been talking about how he cant stand her, how their opposite personalities annoy him, how she isnt affectionate with him, that she doesnt communicate well and doesnt put much of an effort into the relationship as he does. is not that shes abusive, is that she seems to be more lax in the relationship compare to him and its messing him up.

he has only come to me to vent about her so im the only person who is aware about his dissatisfaction in the relationship.

i have, as any reasonable friend, been a shoulder to lean on. i been listening to his rant and given him advice.

at first i was trying to give the standard. communicate, talk about boundaries, talk about insecurities, make her feel safe in the relationship.

but then when things gotten to the point of him being tired of who she is as a person and even considering preferring another girl over her, i started to just think “he should break up with her”.

but he cant. mainly cause he thinks theres something wrong with him and that he has too much love that a person cant handle when i think this is just a problem of incompatibility.

i have always comforted him and tried letting him know that breaking up with her isnt the end of the world. that theres still a chance to meet someone else new, but he cant bring himself to do it because he has already done so much.

but, if he cant even think about being with her in the next five years then why even keep trying?

even today he left me a message of her lack of comfort. all i could say was that i wanted to hug him cause he doesnt deserve that.

which is why it annoys me so much with how he can’t bring himself to break up. i wish there was a way i could show him that is okay to fail at times, to let him know theres nothing wrong with him, that he should stand up for himself if she is not putting in the effort for him. but im also aware how really… weak he is to say the least.

writing this now, and seeing how his relationship was what made make the previous post in the first place does make me realize how even though i think i have good intentions i still am an asshole.

i just wish there was more i could do then just be his rant dump because thats all he even talks to me for. but im aware im not even doing any good in the first place.

now this next one will touch upon the warnings from earlier, so again:

TW: abuse, self harm.

ill admit i wasnt thinking about this relationship at first when i made that post, but it did remind me of the person in it.

i want to say im also going to go into heavy detail about shit thats probably useless in the first place so im sorry.

im a child of divorce, and when my parents were in the beginning process of divorcing, my mom started dating a childhood friend of hers. this didnt really give her the time to truly grieve on the divorce as she managed to quickly find a replacement partner that could give her the love and affection she needed in a difficult time for her.

although things started well, and we tried to get along with her boyfriend, soon enough things got bad.

fights and arguments started, physical altercations too, a big power imbalance occurred between us and her boyfriend, were we moved into HIS house and we had to be on our best behavior to let us live there.

either way, soon enough he kicked us out.

luckily my aunt let us stay in her house and we managed to stay there before my mom got a house for us to live in.

now, i dont know, maybe i am stupid, but you would think that after the abuse, the physical altercations, the disrespect with him, and getting literally kicked out of his house when we were depending on him will make you think my mother will break up with him no?

wrong.

my mom was allowed to come back to his house. every night while me and my brother stayed in my aunt’s house where we had to share a space with my cousin and follow the rules of my aunt, my mom will come probably for an hour or two everyday to take clothes with her and leave to stay with him.

for a year, i had to start being independent completely at the age of 18 as i also had to take care of my neurodivergent brother alone. i began to be very stand off and never open up about my emotions because i didnt have anyone to lean on.

it didnt help that it seems my mom always thinks im against her. any mistake that i made was an attack towards her, some that often lead to her get in trouble with her boyfriend or even my aunt or just in general that i was disobeying her on purpose. i always tried to be good and not bother her with my own existence but nothing ever worked so she made me feel like shit and i started self harming for half that time.

the only times i have opened up to my mom were through mental breakdowns where she finally acknowledged my pain and how much i hated that she would leave me and my brother to fend for ourselves despite how hurting we are. the first time this happened she said we will always be together and things will change.

on september an incident happened.

my mom was on a three day trip with her boyfriend on another town. they often do go out on trips, maybe to satisfy him so i dont stop her.

however, during the second day in got a notification on my phone from her boyfriend saying that they suddenly were at his house and that i needed to pick up my mom. i, knowing this guy is a prick, that he gets made easily because of his fragile ego, that my mom is depending on him for the trip, that they used to get into nasty fights and physical altercation, it made me scared about why were they even back in the first place.

thinking the worst, i came to the house to pick her up. it’s obvious he didnt want her, that he could leave her any time he wanted. so i came to her to make her realize she has a home, that im here for her, that no matter what, even if she keeps choosing her shitty boyfriend ill always be there to pick her back up.

when i got there she started yelling at me. that just me being there worsen the situation between them. mind you, she was outside and wasnt going to leave his house because she wanted to talk while he wanted her out the house.

she said that i basically fucked things up for her, and when she was removed from the house when the cops came, she had a completely breakdown she took off on me.

i dont want to get into the details. mostly that she said a lot of nasty stuff towards me. just that i made it worse by then running away. i was gone for an hour. and when i came back it just made her think more that i just didnt respect her in any way.

…to be honest at this point im not even sure why i keep writing.

long story short, she has expressed she prefers being with her boyfriend over me and me brother, despite the fact i sometimes hear that asshole berate her for no reason. i have to keep him in my life just because she lets him in our home and he is still entangled with my mother.

he makes her cry, he makes her hurt, she cant let go of him because she loves him so much.

and all i can do is sit and watch.

because in my mind, why is it that you prefer that asshole over your own children?

i know im not innocent in this bullshit. i have become very resentful as a person despite being aware that my mother is just a weak individual. i guess that anger and frustration is why i made that post in the first place. i guess is also why i feel so ashamed in myself, especially when it comes to having feelings for someone and being vulnerable.

im sorry to anyone ive hurt in my post again. i know my trauma doesnt change the fact that i was still being insensitive about other people’s struggles and still am.

im sorry.

[sinnohelitefourlore]

Ranking the Sinnoh League members on how well they could sing:

13. Flint

Tone-deaf. Completely tone deaf. I don’t think I need to explain further.

12. Roark

Not tone deaf, but more out of tune than in tune. It doesn’t help that sometimes he hums when he’s at the mines, and because he’s the one in charge his subordinates can’t tell him to shut the fuck up. Also, his father did the same thing so they’re used to it by now. Which leads…

11. Byron

Better than Roark, at least – a teeny, tiny smidge better than Roark. Let’s just say that singing abilities do not run in the family. In reality it’s probably because they’ve screamed at each other in the past over those damn fossils and it’s strained their voices.

10. Maylene

If she had proper training, she could be steady - but she hates singing. Fucking hates it. She would rather stick a fork in her eye than go Christmas caroling or to karaoke night.

9. Wake

Loves karaoke nights, not a great singer, but it’s the effort that counts.

8. Aaron

He’s… fine. It is what it is. He has the vocal range of a tenor, which is going to catch the attention of many people since it’s not that common in boys his age.

7. Bertha

Here’s where things get interesting. She used to sing a lot when she was younger, and has had experience in choir as a young girl. But… y’know… aging. But she’ll hum around the league, and no one stops her because “unlike you, Flint, she sounds great – so shut up.”

6. Cynthia

I was toying with Cynthia either being really shitty or really good, so I kind of decided that she would be sort of good. She can carry a tune.

5. Lucian

I feel like it'd be really funny if Lucian was actually a fairly good singer. Not like, the master of singing, but I HC that Will from Johto is Lucian's younger brother by 15 years, so it'd be funny if Will would randomly say one day, "Lucy is a good singer! He'd sing lullabies to me all the time when I was little!" And Lucian is fucking embarrassed.

4. Volkner

This is another one in which Volkner is really shy about his talent. He can also play a guitar, because let's face it, he looks like one of those douches with a guitar that would sing about how depressed he is. But he'd sound really good doing it though.

3. Gardenia

Gardenia would be one of those girls that would sing absentmindedly while watering her plants but unlike Roark and Byron, her voice is pretty clear, pretty nice to listen to, and people around her don't think when she'll shut the fuck up because she sounds decent.

2. Candice

Not only can she sing very, very well - but she can yodel. Her yodeling is far better than her singing, but her singing is still really fucking good.

Fantina

She could've been a singer. She loves opera. One time, Fantina belts out the highest note she can per Flint's request, and it shatters a glass. Flint has the same effect, but as you know for an opposite reason.

[neatfrog]

my oc Boldizsár for @alexfeelyx, since you said you wanted to see him lol

(ignore the shitty minigun I didn’t feel like adding a bunch of detail for a sketch)

character info below the cut for anyone else interested

Boldizsár is a character I created roughly 8-9 years ago when Fallout 4 came out. He has a twin sister named Petra, and in my Fallout canon they are members of the Gunners. (*realized I forgot to add his blood type tattoo here, but he’s B+ and Petra is A-. I have no clue if twins can have different blood types like that so correct me if I’m mistaken, I genuinely tried to google but couldn’t get a solid answer)

He likes big guns and explosions, and sometimes talks himself up, but spending more than 2 minutes with him will reveal he’s an absolute cinnamon roll. Less prickly and more compassionate than his sister, he has a particular soft spot for animals and children.

They both joined the Gunners at the age of 15 - Boldizsár because they “looked badass”, and Petra followed only because she couldn’t convince her brother not to go.

(at the time of Fallout 4’s events, they’re both 19, but now that I’m almost a decade older than I was when I made these characters I might bump it up some more)

He and his sister are both of Hungarian descent, and their last name is Zsoldos (which I chose purposely because it means ‘mercenary’ and I thought it was funny as fuck. still think it’s funny tbh)

Traits/Behaviors

brave (sometimes too much for his own good)

outraged by injustice or mistreatment of innocent people

sometimes serious situations make him uncomfortable so he often compensates with humor to try to lighten the mood

struggles with guilt over past actions that harmed people

when young, he always listened to whatever Petra told him, and obeyed whenever she instructed him not to do something, but as they got older he became frustrated with her controlling behavior and started to make more of his own choices (which causes a good deal of the conflict in their relationship)

likewise, he has trouble telling her how he truly feels sometimes because he doesn’t want to hurt her (and also doesn’t want to deal with her being angry)

he has trauma from childhood events, but doesn’t realize it (and is somewhat ignorant of how bad it actually was, since Petra shielded him from most of it)

can be stubborn when he feels really strongly about something

very curious about the world and wants to explore (their upbringing was very closed-off and sheltered, they were basically raised in a cult)

is good at logic games and puzzles, and can strategize well

throughout time spent in the Gunners he became familiar with the inner workings/mechanics of explosives and large weapons (idk if it’s possible to dismantle a minigun and put it back together, but if so he could definitely do that)

the thing that would make him happiest is having a family of his own

he’s an aquarius (I gave him and Petra my mom’s birthday so it would be easy to remember lol)

can be pretty oblivious to certain things when they aren’t said/shown explicitly (yes he’s autistic why do you ask)

he’s naive about certain things in the world due to his sheltered upbringing, but is open-minded about new information and experiences

does his best to see the good in people even when they’ve done bad things (but also doesn’t tolerate purposely cruel people)

he wears that Coat all the time (he found it on a skeleton)

(during fallout 4 timeline) becomes deaf in one ear due to a bad injury (this is my reminder to give him some headphones bc the weapons he uses are loud af)

phobia of radscorpions (can we blame him? fuck those things)

-

There’s way more I could say but I think this is enough to sum up his character for now. I guess I should make a post for Petra too 🤔

[mothicality]

why are there no good insults :/

i'm not entirely sure when or how i started thinking about it- maybe after seeing people with intellectual disability talk about the r word, or people talking about gay being used as an insult, or a masterlist of ableist terms... or maybe something else

but i first just started thinking about how "stupid" and "dumb" as insults are awful and ableist. the main conclusion that came from it is pretty simple, "if you're using this thing as an insult, what's wrong with being this thing?"

and as i get better at keeping it in mind, i'm realising most insults have similar issues... by using it as an insult, i'm saying there's something wrong with being that thing, which i rarely agree with

so i've already mentioned stupid and dumb- there's nothing wrong with being stupid/dumb/less intelligent. the only thing it really means is that some people have a harder time with certain things than others, so need accommodations. that applies to pretty much any disability, and i don't think there's anything wrong with being disabled or needing help, so it's hypocritical of me to use stupid/dumb/similar words as insults.

one i only realised recently is "loser" - i was struggling to think of ways to express my hatred of a certain person, and ended up landing on "loser," but... that just means someone who doesn't win, especially getting last place. but that just means the others did better, it doesn't mean the person who lost did anything wrong. i don't think there's anything wrong with losing or being bad at things, so using it as an insult is hypocritical of me.

with blind and deaf i'm a bit more iffy since they do have other meanings than the disabilities that could make sense as insults, but they're primarily related to the disabilities so i do lean towards them not being okay. i've only seen one blind person and a few deaf people take issue with it, so that does add to my iffyness since i see so many who don't mind, but again, i do lean towards thinking it's wrong to use them as insults.

there's countless others i can't think of right now and that would make the post way too long, but i'd love to hear if anyone else has more words and their issues to share.

i think thinking about this stuff can be useful for one's own mental health as well. my ex struggled a lot with feeling like he was stupid, which he often told me about. most people in that situation would rush to tell him that he's not stupid and try to prove that he's smart, but... so what if he's stupid? i tried to work a lot with that with him, going through the possibility of being stupid and why he felt negatively about it, trying to help him see that his intelligence doesn't matter and doesn't effect his worth as a person.

but yeah, that's just something i've been thinking about for a while. i thought of it now because i saw someone say that all disabilities are valid and matter, and then shortly after said i sounded stupid.

i've also seen a lot of people jokingly asking if someone's "acoustic" (meaning autistic) in a way that is not positive, even while claiming to support autistic and otherwise disabled folks.

so yeah, would love some thoughts on this, and recommendations for better insults lol

(also this post is not encouragement to insult people. i hope that's obvious but this is the piss on the poor site. sometimes insulting someone can be okay though, especially if there's no way of them knowing you've said it. there are very shitty people in the world that you sometimes need to express your hatred for, insults are the easiest way, in my opinion at least)

[mythologyfolklore]

Liù'ěr Míhóu joins the jttw gang, or: How to redeem an all-hearing celestial monkey with a superiority complex and a seriously bad attitude

(A/N: TW: mention of sexual abuse, depression & suicide)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Tripitaka reveals dark secrets

.

“Ah, this is wonderful!”, Liù'ěr Míhóu sighed happily. “Normally at this time of the month I would be bleeding and in absolute agony, but with these pills I feel as fresh as an apple blossom! Can someone remind me to give generous offerings to the Bodhisattva, who gave me these pills? I may be able to hear everything, but I don't actually have the best memory.”

Tripitaka nodded. “No problem, but … if I may know, why is your memory lacking?”

Liù'ěr Míhóu explained: “It's a filter, that keeps my mind from overloading. Hearing so many things is kinda straining. Now imagine being unable to forget any of that. I'm already mentally unstable, but remembering all the shitty things I've heard and that have happened to me over the aeons I have lived, in all gory detail? Yeah, I would be … you know …”

The rest of the group got what he was saying, shuddering at the thought.

He heaved a sigh: “Yeah. And with the things I hear … ugh. Overall I like my ears, but sometimes I wish I was deaf.”

Bái Lóng Mă gave him a comforting nuzzle with his snout and a low neigh. The macaque smiled tiredly and nuzzled back.

“Huh. I'm actually familiar with that feeling”, Tripitaka spoke up. “Except instead of hearing, I've seen things I can't unsee. Like your and Pilgrim's bloody rampages, for example.” He narrowed his eyes at the two monkeys.

They sweatdropped.

But Liù'ěr Míhóu was now curious. “And the rest? Maybe you can tell us about some stuff even I don't know?”

The monk hesitated, but then seemed to relent, as he began to list on his fingers: “The things one of the older monks at my monastery would do to the acolytes, until the abbot found out and gave him the boot. My mother's corpse dangling from the ceiling, after she committed suicide …”

The disciples stared at their master in horror.

Tripitaka gave a hollow chuckle: “I should stop there. A good Buddhist shouldn't have worldly attachments and I don't want to think about what happened years or decades ago.”

“But you are upset about it, Master”, Wùkōng pointed out.

At first he was met with silence.

Then the monk mumbled: “It doesn't matter.”

But all of them could tell: to their master, it did matter.

.

It was now nighttime and Liù'ěr Míhóu was on watch duty.

Normally it would have been Wùkōng's turn, but he had passed out from exhaustion earlier and slaphead had decided to let him sleep.

So the Monkey King was now sleeping like a rock – pun intended – while the Six-Eared Macaque had agreed to take over his shift.

He was crouched on a branch, listening for any potential threats, when something else caught his attention.

The monk wasn't sleeping. He was lying perfectly still, but his breathing and heartbeat gave him away.

Liù'ěr Míhóu sighed and climbed off the tree.

“I know you're awake, monk”, he whispered into the human's ear.

A sigh.

Then the other turned around (with some effort) to face the monkey, eyes now open.

“You could hear that too, huh?”, he mumbled.

“Most creatures' breathing and heartbeat change, when they're asleep”, explained Liù'ěr Míhóu. “Not all and the difference is hard to discern, unless you're looking for it. But if you paid close attention, I'm sure even you could hear it.”

Tripitaka blinked. “Really? Interesting. I didn't know that.”

“You learn something new every day. Now, what's keeping you up? Your back acting up again?”

“No. Just my mind messing with me”, the monk muttered. Then he added, with audible caution: “I know you hear almost everything, but … can you tell the difference between the outside noise and your own thoughts?”

“Not always”, he admitted. “Is that your problem right now? Loud thoughts?”

“Yeah … loud and unpleasant. All the memories I'm trying so hard to let go of. I guess, after our talk this afternoon, they chose to remind me of their existence.”

Liù'ěr Míhóu frowned; that was something he could empathise with.

“Wanna talk about it?”, he offered.

Tripitaka replied, hesitantly: “I don't want to burden you with my issues. Buddha knows you're dealing with enough as it is.”

“Probably, but I wouldn't be offering to listen, if I wasn't willing.”

“I guess … but can we go a bit further away from the others? I don't want to wake them up.”

The macaque shrugged: “Sure.” Then he picked the monk up in his sleeping bag and carried him across the clearing (surely it was a ridiculous scene, a monkey carrying off a human thrice his size).

After picking a tree that was outside of listening range, but within the others' sight, he set the human down and helped him lean against the trunk.

“Alright, now spill.”

Tripitaka gave him a reproaching frown – probably because of the tone – but Liù'ěr Míhóu chose to ignore it.

After some more hesitation, the monk finally admitted: “I can't stop thinking about my parents.”

Oh.

“Do you know about them? I mean, have you heard anything …?”

Liù'ěr Míhóu could see where this was going.

“Hm … I do remember hearing something- no. Stop it. Quit the puppy eyes.”

“Wùhuàn, please! I know you're apprehensive about sharing your knowledge of the past and future, but I need to know, why my mother …”

“Ugh, alright, fine! But I warn you, this won't be pretty.”

Tripitaka gave him a look.

The macaque threw up his hands: “I'm just saying, some creep drowned your mother's husband right before her eyes, just because he had the hots for her, then forced her to pretend that he – your father's murderer – was her husband. You have to admit, that's some fucked-up shit.”

“Language”, the monk muttered. “And I already knew that part.”

“I know, that you know. But put yourself in your mother's shoes for a moment. Surely you can guess, what that bastard did to her over the almost nineteen years she was chained to him. I know I did, when I heard her weeping. Frankly, it's phenomenal she held out as long as she did.”

Liù'ěr Míhóu hugged himself. Many times he had wept in the same way as Yin Wenjiao. And many times he had heard other people (mostly women) weep in the same manner. But of course he wouldn't say that out loud. The monk alredy knew that anyway.

Suddenly Tripitaka spoke again: “It wasn't the only suicide attempt either. First my grandfather and I had to stop her from hanging herself, then from jumping into the river my father drowned in. No matter how many times we told her, that nothing about this situation was her fault and there was nothing for her to be ashamed of, she-” He swallowed again. “But that was before we managed to bring my father back! After we brought his murderer to justice and got him back … I thought she was happy! She looked happy! She smiled, laughed and everything! Then one evening, while I was visiting my family between some errants, she bid us all good night … and the next morning we found her hanging by the neck from the ceiling of her bedroom! Just … why?! Why were we not enough to make her stay?!”

Liù'ěr Míhóu honestly wasn't sure what to do.

On one hand, he had never had a parental figure, nor a wanted child.

On the other, the monk had readily accepted his temperament and had been nothing but kind upon guessing what the Six-Eared Macaque had gone through in the past. There was no harm in returning the favour.

So, after carefully considering his words, he sighed: “Okay. I'm not good at empathy stuff, so bear with me, but I'll try. Review in your head all that you know happened to your mother.”

The monk nodded.

“Now add that all up. That's a lot of heartbreak, shame and despair. And sure, she got justice, but here's the thing: justice can do amazing things, but it can't make the pain go away. It can't undo almost two decades of misery. It can't silence the voices in your head, telling you, that you're to blame, that you're filthy and a disgrace, that you brought shame upon those you care about, that they'd be better off without you.”

The macaque couldn't help but feel pity, as the young human hugged himself. Maybe he would've curled in on himself, were it not for his aching back (had he really hit him that hard?).

“Sometimes I feel like that”, the monk confided.

The white monkey tilted his head in what was hopefully an encouraging manner.

Tripitaka bit his lip. “Can I tell you something else?”

“Sure.”

“What she went through … what you went through … it happened to me too. Only once, but-”

Liù'ěr Míhóu lifted a hand. “Don't finish that sentence. One time is one too many, no matter the circumstances. Do you … wanna talk about it?”

A small nod.

Then the monk took a deep breath and began.

“I've been harassed or flirted at way too many times. Though usually it stays at that. When I say no, they stop what they're doing and don't go further (even if the alternative is them wanting to eat me). They get angry or upset, but they stop. Except for one.” He paused for a moment, clearly to compose himself, then continued: “A scorpion demoness. I had just escaped an unwanted wedding, when she showed up, kidnapped me, you know how it goes. At first she tried it with the usual 'trying to tempt me' spiel. But the longer she failed to get me to consent to 'play husband and wife', as she called it, the more forward she got. My ankles and wrists were tied up, so I couldn't stop her, when she started to lift up my robes. Uhm … I think you can guess the rest. And my disciples were away, so they couldn't prevent it.”

Tripitaka hugged himself.

“Sometimes I can still feel her hands on me …”

Liù'ěr Míhóu frowned.

That explained, why he once had heard the monk crying that way, a few months before he had joined the group.

This new information made his stomach churn.

He still wasn't a fan of the monk, but damn, the guy didn't deserve that!

The Six-Eared Macaque curled up and pat the mortal's shoulder with his long tail.

“You know that doesn't make you a bad monk, right?”, he asked.

Tripitaka stared at the macaque, like he had grown even more ears.

“How does it not- but I-?”

“Didn't do anything”, Liù'ěr Míhóu finished. “You didn't want her in any way. You didn't seduce her or give into temptation or some bullshit. Nor did she tempt or seduce you. She forced herself on you. That was not at all your fault. Okay? It wasn't your fault, that she hurt you. You're not any lesser, because someone touched you against your will. You're not filthy. You're not impure. You have not broken any vow. Remember this, when her touch haunts you, okay? Can you do that?”

For a moment there was silence.

Then, without any warning, the monk picked him up and hugged him tightly, eliciting a startled chirp from the macaque.

“Uhhh …”

“Sorry”, Tripitaka sniffled. “I just … really needed to hear that. Thank you … thank you!”

Liù'ěr Míhóu sighed and patted the young man's back, as the other sobbed into his shoulder.

At some point however, Tripitaka's tears had soaked the macaque's robe so much, even the thick fur couldn't keep it away. Making the monkey squirm.

Fortunately, the monk got the hint and let go.

“Feeling a bit better now?”, asked Liù'ěr Míhóu.

The human nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“Good. Because this was a one time thing, just to make that clear”, Liù'ěr Míhóu informed him.

Tripitaka gave him a weird look, but by now it was too dark to discern what exactly it was.

Whatever.

“Thank you for listening to me. Just … one more thing, Wùhuàn.”

“What is it?”

“Don't tell your brothers, what I just told you. They can never know. Promise me you won't tell. Please. I don't want them to- they'd be so upset. Especially Pilgrim. H-he'd be so devastated, if he ever found out, that …”

“I understand. I won't tell anyone. You have my word.”

.

---

.

Just to clear this up: in the original novel (chapter 55), the scorpion demoness gets pissed, when she fails to turn Tripitaka on, and leaves him tied up in the hallway.

[tr4showl]

Long ass negative rant about a silly idol game story because I'm annoying and that shit has been eating away at my sanity for this week and I need to get this out of my chest

I had low expectations for the story but man I am still some how disappointed. I have a disdain for alkaloid and Crazy:B constantly mashed together since the abomination that was Romantic?date and the current event is sadly reaffirming that feeling even more.

To start off , while I liked the interactions between some of the characters , in general I felt they were mostly shallow and just felt like they were regurgitating the same constant shitty jokes without developing the existing relationships between them or building up new ones between characters that didn't have the chance to properly know each other yet. (Like for example, personally, I am so so tired of those embarrassing awful cannibalism jokes between mayoi and Niki that their dynamic is mostly based on, especially since that's most of Niki's Screentime in the story) And a lot of interactions just feels like soulless ship-bait that flies by even worse when you hate 90% of the ships they're baiting.(Enstars always had those kinds of moments but there were times when they felt genuine and added at least a bit to the characters and the dynamics between them, while here it's just painful to read) Sometimes I even felt like the characters were basically caricatures of themselves.

Also , the story is currently 26 chapters long with more dreadfully coming soon, but it feels like nothing happened so far which is alarming knowing that we're already 2/3 into the story. After just reading , I barely remember anything that happened besides the awful moments. Nothing feels like it has any significance whether it's to the characters involved or the reader. I mean , going back to the village felt like nothing more than a background change so they can continue doing nothing but in an old house this time instead of a studio as well as an opportunity for aira to be racist again, which shouldn't be the case considering it was the place both Amagis grew up in and have complicated feelings about. Especially for Rinne who was shunned all his life by the village for his status as future "monarch" and for his mindset which led him to run away to the city to pursue his passion of being an idol, so a thing as big as returning there (even if the main immediate conflict was solved by the end of the main story) should hold more weight than him just being a little bit mopey on the way there. Also they straight up just pulled a Turkish drama by introducing some random kid that came out of nowhere just so they'll get some "shocking" twist about his real identity that no one really cares about and that adds nothing to the already existing characters and only takes focus away from them. (Anyways my bet at this point is that he's secretly akanP's son and she's somehow related to the Amagis or even better, she was actually their mom all along or something but I digress) at this point I'd rather hear more about the weird and complicated Godfather nonsense than whatever's going on here

And didn't even get to aira racism. it was already unfortunately established as a character trait for him so it was unsurprising for him to act that way. Even then, him describing his prejudiced views in great Detail was so shocking and tasteless and left a bad impression of the whole story for most even when aira gets reprimanded and scolded for saying such things immediately after because it's obvious that the writer won't put in any effort to make the character outgrow his awful views. So even if we take it in good faith and assume that the writer was intending on mocking and criticizing those views , the whole thing feels tasteless and tone deaf because of how badly written everything is, especially considering Akira's less than favorable track record in handling topics like racism.

All of this is a huge shame considering they actually mention interesting things that they most likely won't bother exploring in the future that would much rather have them focus on instead of whatever we got (like Kaname being mentioned and tatsumi guessing something is up with HiMERU, Niki knowing what cooked human meat smells like which alludes to his father's past which we literally have only been getting crumbs of since the main story as well as Niki's complicated relationship with being an idol and his low self-esteem. just to name a few)

What makes everything worse is for how long the event has been teased and how it has been hyped up as this GRAND FINALE that finally wraps up the alkaloid/Crazy:B plotline. And if THIS is what we get I'm very concerned about what is to come. I know that we're only through 2/3 of the story so far, but I doubt they'll be able to get back up from this garbage this late into the story

I know that I'm writing this in the heat of my emotions and this is all silly and doesn't matter and I'll probably be over it by next week , but it's such a shame to see a series that can do WAYY better sink this low.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Twelve

Jackie rests following his injury. Marvin and JJ talk some things out. JJ finds a Deaf community group, and Chase gets into a situation he finds overwhelming. Masterlist

Tws for discussions of past abuse and a suggestive encounter involving dubious consent (stopped before it goes too far). 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!

.

A knocking on the door interrupts their talk. Marvin calls “come in!” and JJ follows suit, walking in with Stacy’s bags on his arms.

“Presents, presents, presents,” he signs grandly, sitting down on the bed. “Stacy had some of our old stuff.”

“Wait, really?” asks Jackie, sitting up.

“She said Chase and Schneep and I left some stuff with the magicians for safe-keeping,” explains Marvin warmly. “I haven’t looked yet though.”

JJ plops down on the bed beside them and offers Jackie a little box of his old things for him to look through. For Marvin, there is a box of all sorts of occult-looking magical shit, a worn pink cat’s collar, and several books of poetry. JJ rummages down into the bag and gasps with delight as he extracts a fancy little Polaroid camera just for him.

“Oh, look!” cries Jackie. “This - this is stuff I had in my old room. My toys and comics and stuff!”

Marvin holds the collar and the books to his chest, and brushes his hands over a crystal ball and old Tarot cards, smiling as he feels some part of himself settling warmly in his chest.

“Was there stuff for Chase and Schneep?” he asks.

“Yes,” says JJ. “Schneep’s nice white coat and an old music player, I think.”

In their bedroom, Chase turns the old MP3 player on with cautious fingers, his hopes lifting when he finds it still has power. He opens the list of songs on it - hundreds of his old favorites - and finds himself drawn to familiar names.

“Do you remember when we had this?” he asks Schneep softly, looking up into his faraway eyes. “When Anti gave us one and we had just a couple of our favorite songs? We would sit in our nest and listen to it as we fell asleep, back when we were just newly twins, and we didn’t remember anything else in the world but each other and our music.”

Henrik gazes blankly at him. Chase reaches carefully up and places an earbud in his ear, and then one in his own, and he starts their music.

From the other room, his siblings will hear him singing Sleeping at Last quietly. He does not have a voice for singing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a part of him.

Slowly, Chase watches the recognition return to Henrik’s eyes. It is followed by surprise, confusion, awareness, and then, yes - a smile.

Chase laughs and grips his hands, and Henrik laughs back, shaking his head in amazement as the old music comes back to him.

“I do remember - ”

“Dok! You keep scaring me like that!”

“I’m sorry, I think I just - haha, well what does it matter, here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Mrow!” calls Noodle, shoving his head up against their chins, and they burst into laughter and shitty, passionate singing, laughing at each other and gripping hands there in the safety of their nest, their cat purring enthusiastically between them, their family close at hand, and safe, and warm, and whole.

What else is there in the world that matters?

ari-trash asked:

Oh the cat collar... is there a name on it?

“No,” says Marvin softly. “I guess we had a couple cats.”

“Soup and Feichin,” says JJ.

Marvin laughs. “Really?”

“Marv, um, Jackie and I found their bodies… we can bury them sometime if you want.”

Marvin looks down at his blankets, nodding. “Yeah, that, uh - that would be nice, I guess.”

“Stacy might have some pictures on her phone too?”

“That’s sweet,” smiles Marvin. “I’ll ask. Plant some flowers for the cats and… yeah. I haven’t seen the house again yet.”

“We can go whenever,” says Jackie.

“You mean we can go whenever. You are stuck in bed!”

Jackie pouts. “Well, the upstairs is pretty burned, but the downstairs is mostly okay. I think we can make the place livable again.”

“And I’ll start making mirrors,” chuckles Marvin. “We’ll be able to come here to see the Irish magicians, and go to Sweden to see the kids, and I’ll make a mirror to Brighton too.”

JJ looks up, bright-eyed. Marvin grins weakly back and clears his throat. “JJ, um. The two of us should probably talk too. Sometime.”

JJ plays with his camera. “Am I in trouble?” he asks, not looking up.

“That’s not how we do things anymore,” says Marvin. “And even if it was, I think I would be the one in trouble.”

JJ gets a little red in the face. “You can stay with Jackie for now,” he says. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, well… sometime. Are you sure there isn’t something we could do together or something like that?”

There’s a pause as Jameson’s eyes flash. After a second, he looks up at Marvin, something brightening in his face. “Actually, there is something I need some help with.”

“Oh? Yeah, honey, whatever.”

“I still get nervous in public,” says JJ. “So I want someone to take me to Mass!”

Marvin covers his face with his hands. “You’re kidding, right?”

JJ is laughing at him now. “Nope! I want to go to confession and then to Mass.”

“Jameson,” says Marvin. “Listen, don’t you have some delusions kind of tied up in religion? You sure you don’t just want to, like… be done with that? Also, you know I’m a pagan, right?”

“I want to go to confession and then to Mass,” repeats JJ steadfastly. “But it’s up to you! Don’t go if you will be uncomfortable, I can always find someone else.”

He gathers up his things and leaves the room. Marvin turns to Jackie, bewildered.

“You kind of owe it to the little man,” laughs Jackie.

“You read your comics and be quiet,” says Marvin, and tries to ignore Jackie giggling.

“Maybe we should get him a cat,” Marvin adds.

“What?”

“Something to take care of. He’s been dependent for so long. He’s still really passive sometimes. That’s the first time I’ve heard him tell me what he wants like, ever.”

“Whatever you think, dude. As far as I’m concerned we already got one and we have a whole forest area for them to roam. May as well have more.”

Marvin eyes the collar in his hands, rubbing his thumb over it.

Anonymous asked:

Maybe you could get him a mouse or hedgehog?? Jackie you don't remember but JJ and you had a mouse in a little shoebox during the early days with Anti. I think JJ likes mice and rats a lot!

“A mouse in a shoebox,” laughs Jackie. “Cute. Yeah, well, ask him, Marv. Could be nice to get him a rat or something once we have money for a cage and things like that. Could be nice to not get anything, I don’t know what he wants to have to worry about. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants a cat?”

Marvin looks up from the collar, blinking. “Um. I don’t know. Anti made me think I didn’t like them.”

“You like Noodle.”

“I do now. I didn’t for a while.”

“There’s no rush for anything,” says Jackie. “But you’re your own person and the house is for all of us, so no one will mind one way or another I expect.”

Anonymous asked:

Did Henrik and Chase ever go back to the Jewish community center they found?

“We are planning to,” says Henrik, chewing on a piece of pizza Stacy had delivered for them as he sits on one side of Jackie’s bed. “Now that I am a little more aware. Chase says he will go with me one of these days.”

“I don’t know much about your actual services,” says Chase, mopping up marinara sauce with a breadstick. “But you can teach me.”

Jackie lying back in his bed between them, observing them with a faint, tired grin on his face in between bites of his own pizza. “You two could do some things separately for once, you know.”

Chase and Henrik glance at him and then at each other before turning away again.

“I mean it,” says Jackie, and despite the bandages still wrapped around his chest, he looks relaxed and lazy. “It would be good for you. Schneep, I bet Marvin would go with you since he’s taking JJ to church.”

“Nuh-uh!” comes a call from the other room. “This is enough structured religion for the rest of my life. We’re heading out, should be a couple hours.”

“Come say goodbye to me,” whines Jackie, and Marvin shouts back a grumpy “no!” but Jameson hurries into the room and throws his arms around Jackie in a hug.

“If you need me you can come right home,” says Jackie, brushing at his hair and cupping his head. “We can always try again another time. And just tell Marvin if you’re overwhelmed. Okay?”

“Jackie,” calls Marvin. “He’ll be with me and he’s fine. Don’t worry so much.”

“Stay with Marv,” Jackie orders. “Be good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

JJ hugs Schneep and Chase too before heading out with Marvin. Jackie watches him go, frowning out into the hall.

“And we’re the co-dependent ones,” grumbles Chase.

“I’ll bite you,” warns Jackie, making Chase laugh. “I’m letting him go, isn’t that enough?”

“It’s a start,” says Henrik.

Jackie sinks warmly back into his bed. “I’d take you to synagogue, Dok. Now that we’re free and you’re feeling better, we can be friends like we used to.”

Schneep smiles at him, his head ducking down.

Jackie doesn’t know if his brother will ever be the same loud, over-confident, teasing, exuberant person he was before this all happened. But he thinks that, little by little, Henrik will be bolder with each day that comes, and even if he never is quite that crazy again, he’ll always be Schneep. Jackie’s glad he’s here.

Anonymous asked:

How's being fussed over to your liking Jackie? Pretty nice to let yourself be taken care of I bet, especially after so long of having to hide your emotions and be so closed off both to Anti and your brothers.

Jackie lets Chase offer him orange soda through a straw so he doesn’t have to sit up. His brothers sit with him and talk, warming the room with their chatter and closeness.

It’s not like before, when they were separated by rooms or their fear of him. He thought it would be scary to feel less like he is in charge of them - like he couldn’t stop them from leaving or doing something stupid if they wanted to - but the truth is, there’s a relief to be found in knowing that they’re all taking their independence back from him, bit by bit, even though it scares him. And he’d give up a lot of control to feel this closeness to them. It’s the difference between a commander and an older brother, and he begins to realize that when he insisted to himself I’ll this time “I’m their big brother,” the problem wasn’t that that was a lie, but rather that his concept of what an older brother should be was skewed so badly the weight of it threatened to crush him.

Now he’s just lying in his bed, completely stripped of any semblance of authority or physical strength, and there’s something very nice about it. Henrik pulls another piece of pizza free and hands it over to him.

“I like it,” says Jackie. “Very much. And I want chocolate! Go, serving boy!”

Chase whacks him gently on the head with the empty breadstick box and gets up to get him a piece of chocolate.

Anonymous asked:

JJ I'm so excited you get to go to Mass and freely practice now! But remember to be careful of your delusions and take care of yourself! Religion can get very tricky when you're psychotic, so make sure you have someone with you to ground you just in case.

“I’m here if you need a break. If you do need someone to ground you. I - ”

“Now you’re getting as bad as Jackie.”

“Babe, you’re shaking already.”

Jameson flinches and looks up at the little parish building, a shiver running up his back. “I want to do this,” he signs, straightening his back. “I need to.”

“I just don’t want you getting worked up over - you know. Just. Religion.”

“I know you don’t believe in this stuff,” says JJ. “But it’s important to me. Thank you for calling so I can have a priest who signs.”

Marvin sighs. “Jamie, you know this is going to freak you out. If you’re just doing this because you have a delusion about going to Hell - ”

“I’m not, okay? Please just let me go.”

“Look, I know we don’t have to have jobs the same way anymore, but I am still your older sibling and I want to look after you. Can’t we just go?”

Jameson shakes his head. “No. I need to do this.”

“James… you don’t, okay? If God exists, he’s not going to send you to Hell.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Well, what is it about, because - ”

“How is it possible that Anti could have stripped me of myself so thoroughly that he even took my faith from me?” Jameson demands.

Marvin blinks at him, stopped in his tracks.

He knows JJ can’t literally yell, but sometimes, when he strikes his hands together like that and signs that fast, he gets the same impression as if he would have screamed. The look on his face tells the same story. Marvin looks down at the ground, ashamed to have tried to talk him out of it.

“It’s pathetic,” JJ continues weakly. “You read all these stories in the Bible about men who keep their faith through torture and death threats… I have to live the rest of my life knowing I’m not one of those men. I’m not strong enough.”

“Jameson,” murmurs Marvin. “That you’re here at all… it’s enough.”

Jameson snorts, turning away from him for a moment to breathe. Marvin wants to reach out to pull him back and hug him - to comfort him and make things right - but he supposes this is something Jameson has to figure out for his own.

“I’m glad you have found a piece of yourself among the magicians and your home,” signs JJ, breathing out slowly. “I truly am. It’s wonderful to see you happy again. And Chase gets to have his kids back - Jackie and Henrik are finding themselves again - it’s all marvelous. But Marvin, my whole life - my whole fucking life - has been Anti.”

Marvin doesn’t know what to say.

“I never had a chance to really be Jameson before this,” his brother continues. “I was always more Dapper than anyone else. Do you know how badly I’m scrambling to find myself? How when Anti was taken from me the floor was pulled out from underneath my feet and the only thing that I have to cling to now is my siblings, who sometimes can’t even see me as a man? Who already feel the need to take care of me without me being completely lost in a world I have never experienced without Anti hanging over me? Don’t get me wrong, the world he offered me was a terrible one - but it was the one I have always lived in.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbles Marvin.

“Don’t be,” replies JJ quickly, touching his cheek. “It’s not anybody’s fault. I just… need some help. Some support. Okay?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Must have been nice to find your people again,” adds JJ morosely. “I’d love that - a place where I feel like I belong. I’m trying to find it, Marvin. And I need to go to Confession before I can go to Mass. So please… just wait here for me, okay? And if I do break down, be there afterwards.”

“Yeah,” whispers Marvin. “Love you.”

“I love you,” replies JJ firmly. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Jameson pads up the steps to the parish building to meet with the priest and Marvin sits down heavily, rubbing at his head. He’d wanted to have some grand gesture to give Jameson in apology for the way he treated him, but he just feels lost.

Jameson cries on the bench in the Marian grotto outside the parish office, Marvin’s arms wrapped around him.

“Was he mean?” asks Marvin, stroking JJ’s hair out of his reddened face. “I don’t know what happens in confession.”

JJ shakes his head, his hands over his face.

“Just overwhelmed?”

A nod. Marvin sets their heads together and rocks him on the bench, closing his eyes.

“There’s no rush. You take your time.”

Jamie’s right hand falls to grip at Marvin’s shirt, pulling him close. They sit together for a long time. And Marvin’s wish for some grand gesture to give him falls apart. It’s been too long already. He needs to apologize.

“I love you, Jameson,” he says. “I’m sorry I said otherwise. I just - ”

“I know you do, Marv,” JJ cuts him off. “You don’t have to get into it.”

Marvin’s gut twists uncomfortably. “James, you’re allowed to be angry with me. You’re allowed to be angry period.”

Jameson glances up at the statue in the grotto, wiping tears from his face. “Think I forgot how somewhere along the way,” he says.

“Can I ask you something, sugar? Are you not… are you not angry at Anti?”

Jameson pauses again, a small sigh escaping his mouth as he breathes. “No. Not really. I suppose in a logical way I am - as in, I know he treated me poorly, I know he was cruel. But I don’t feel it.”

“Do you still miss him?”

“Terribly,” Jameson says. “How humiliating. I find it difficult to sleep without him. Even when Jackie comes to keep me company, it’s still difficult. I hear his voice in my head - not so much in the hallucinating way now, but just… the comments he would make. How he might laugh at something someone did. Or tease me or tell me to come lie down with him a while. Tell me about how I belonged to him, how I was special. How he’d be all alone if I ever gave him up. I think about him often. Then I feel wretched for dwelling on him when he was so awful to all of us, and I think to myself that I should hate him more, and that I really still am just his pet.”

Marvin bites his lip and wraps an arm around his brother, rubbing his shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s not something he relates to at all.

“How do you feel, Marvin, thinking back about him now?”

Marvin chuckles. “Well, um. Just - I don’t know.”

“Angry?”

“No. No, that much is gone from me. The anger is with myself for falling for him or for letting you all down this time or that time, and so on. But I got my anger for him out. Buried the knife of it in his stomach and let Jackie burn it down on the forest floor.”

JJ stares out at the trees. “I wish I hadn’t cried while he was dying. I wish I did not cry for him now. I wish I had been able to be angry. To be violent. To show him, just once, that I was not his little doll. But he was screaming for me and for Jack… my brother, screaming for me to save him.”

Jameson turns suddenly to Marvin, eyes creased with grief.

“Will I just always be a victim, Marvin? Is this always going to be all that defines me? Being his and being sick? Will I always be a burden to everyone?”

“Jamie,” Marvin protests. “No, absolutely not.”

“I know you and Jackie see it in me,” says JJ, pressing on. “I know because Jackie tells me it directly, that he has trouble seeing me as an adult and an independent person and a capable person and all that. And I know you do it too, Marvin, you - ”

“James, I - ”

“No, don’t lie to me,” signs JJ emphatically. “Don’t, because there was a reason you told me you didn’t love me and I know it must be this, that I’m broken, that you still see me as his sweet pet, that I disgust you. I know you’re just pressuring me to be better and that’s alright, I’m not angry - ”

“JJ!”

Marvin signs the letters hard, cutting Jameson off. He stares back down at the pavement, silent again. Marvin reaches tenderly out and cups his face, trying to draw his gaze up, but JJ just shies away.

“Jameson,” says Marvin. “Listen to me, okay? That’s not why I said that to you.”

Jameson purses his mouth. Marvin knows he doesn’t believe him.

“Jamie, here’s the truth, adult to adult: when I look back at Anti now, I feel afraid.”

Jameson meets his eyes, blinking.

“That was the part I was hoping would go away on its own, but it didn’t. The fear of him… it haunts me. All of us have to live the rest of our lives with the knowledge that we were his victims, that we were stripped of our identities and our freedom, and that is so scary, Jameson. Because what if it happens again? And I know that Anti was a supernatural whatever-the-hell, and that he had mind control powers and so on, whatever. But… giving my love to someone and having them use that to manipulate me? That’s real, JJ. Someone could do that with my heart. Even any of you could do that with my heart. That terrifies me.”

“And you think I would do that with your heart,” signs JJ morosely.

“No, no,” replies Marvin, quick to correct. “That’s not it. But Jameson, over the last year, I pretty much only ever got to see you or interact with you when he was there. So… it’s not your fault, but you remind me of him. You remind me of when we were victims together. And that fear comes back. Lately, I’ve been letting that fear control me. I lashed out at you because I was scared. I was trying to drive you away. It’s why I’ve been so harsh with you. That fear.”

“I won’t go away,” Jameson tells him immediately, pausing between words to brush a strand of hair from Marvin’s eyes. “Even if you are harsh, that’s alright.”

“No, sugar, it’s not alright,” Marvin chuckles weakly. “It’s not. That’s what I want you to know. That’s why I’m saying I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, Marvin,” says JJ. “I won’t go.”

Marvin hugs him for a moment, pulling him away again to look him in the eye. “You’re too gentle with me,” he says. “And if I ever do anything like that to you again, I want you to kick my ass. Okay?”

JJ giggles. “I’ll try?”

“Good. But if you really mean it about forgiving me, then… thanks. Honestly, I’ve been scared I’d ruined things between us forever.”

“But if I remind you of Anti, how will we be friends?” asks Jameson, frowning. “You should stick with the others. I’m okay.”

“Don’t say stuff like that. You are important, JJ, and you’re not a burden - you’re a part of us. You’re a part of me. So that’s why I want to spend more time with you, time like this, where things are pretty calm and we just know that we’re safe. If I start getting worked up, I can take a break, like Jackie does. I want to have a chance to see you in a context outside of victimhood. I want to see you as yourself. My bad-ass brother.”

JJ’s eyes water. “I’ve missed that. Jackie’s my only friend, and even he sometimes sees me as a kid.”

“Chase and Schneep aren’t your friends?”

Jameson pauses. “Chase and Henrik love me,” he says slowly. “They’re my brothers.”

“But not… friends.”

He shrugs, glancing down at his shoes, clearly embarrassed to have said anything.

“We’re going to start doing things as a family,” says Marvin, reaching out to hug him again. “And we will all get to know each other again. As friends. As equals.”

“The way we used to,” Jameson signs faintly. “I - I have missed that. So much. Marvin. I missed you.”

Marvin rests his head against Jameson’s, sitting with his arm wrapped around him.

He doesn’t remember who Jameson was before this all happened. He doesn’t remember who he himself was before this all happened. He definitely doesn’t remember what things were like between them, when Jameson and Marvin would talk about magic and take walks and drink wine on the porch late into the night together.

Still, as he is holding him there in the warmth of the sun, he feels a piece of himself settle back into place again, and he realizes that he has missed him too.

.

Anonymous asked:

Have you checked out a deaf support group in the area yet JJ? One of your brothers can go with you, if you need that, but I think making some friends and meeting new people would be good for you!

“Okay, so - come here, look, I’m not going to decide for you! Right. So there’s clubs here in town and they meet weekly. This one is right by the bus stop in the center of town. There’s service programs too so if you need help finding a job or signing up for things or whatever, that’s what they’re here for. You can go anytime.”

JJ squirms on the bed beside Jackie, glancing at the computer uncertainly. “Nobody else will have schizophrenia, though.”

“Jay, you don’t know that, and even if there was nobody else with a psychotic disorder, everyone is there to help and understand. That’s the whole point of this. Besides, you’re not having symptoms lately, right?”

“Sometimes I don’t emote right. That’s not good when everybody is Deaf.”

Jackie grins at him. “Well, when you do emote, you are crazy emotive. Even I get what you’re feeling when you make faces. And if you can’t emote for a while, you still sign perfectly well. You can work around whatever concerns you have, JJ, I know it.”

JJ smiles weakly back at him, glancing at the screen.

“It’s your choice,” says Jackie. “But I think it would be a good idea for you to go.”

“Okay,” says JJ. “Would be nice if some of them were British, though.”

“Some of them might be.”

“I don’t know this town at all.”

“We’ll figure it all out, bud. We will.”

JJ lies down beside him and puts his head against his shoulder, resting with him.

Anonymous asked:

Emotional check in time! You've all been through a lot the past couple days. How is everyone doing? - 🎒

“Yes, that’s a good question,” says Marvin, and you find him moving through the old house in the mirror, striding towards the rooms at the back of the hall. Chase and Henrik look up at him from exploring the less-burned room. “How are you guys doing?”

“I think we’re pretty good,” says Henrik, glancing at his twin.

“Yes,” says Chase. “This is good. Noodle can have the forest to run around with without anything to hurt him or a way to get lost. And you, Marv?”

“I’m right as rain, amata,” he replies. “I’ll let you two explore. We can all have our own rooms here. Nice, huh?”

He’s gone again before waiting for an answer. Chase and Henrik look at each other again, blinking. Their own rooms. Yeah. An unusual uncomfortable silence settles between them.

Back in the apartment, JJ gets up to look at Jackie for a reply. His big brother chuckles, messing up his hair. “I’m okay, my man. How are you?”

JJ shrugs. “A little down, I guess. Fine.”

“You’re allowed to be sad sometimes,” says Jackie, brushing his hair back into place again. “Why don’t you go check out the house with the others, yeah?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I think I’ll have a nap, actually.”

“I’ll nap with you.”

“No,” laughs Jackie. “I don’t want you guys to feel like you have to babysit. Go on. Pest.”

“You are.”

“You are.”

“You are!”

Jackie shoves his shoulder as he gets out of bed, making JJ laugh, and they sign “kiss kiss kiss” at each other before his little brother is slipping away to join the others.

Jackie doesn’t nap, though. A sigh slides out of him. He stares at their one phone, the smile fading off his face.

Anonymous asked:

Jackie, did you memorize Max's number? Maybe you should call it! I think having him with you would help you get back a piece of yourself.

“Yeah,” says Jackie.

He stares at the phone, drawing himself up to sitting with a groan. His hand covers his injured shoulder. He pulls his red jacket closer around him and lets his thumb rest on the phone screen, pulling open the call app.

He stills, eyes crinkling. Noodle mewls at him from the doorway, padding over to hop up onto the bed.

“Fuck, I’m a coward,” Jackie mumbles, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck. I wish he was just… dammit. Wish he was just here.”

scunneredzombie asked:

Marvin, are you doing okay? You're rushing around and being a little distant.

“No, no, I’m okay,” says Marvin quickly. “No worries.”

He heads back up to his burned room, pushing into the closet. Although they are all broken from the heat, even melted in some places, the mirrors to places all over the world are still back there. He can touch the shattered glass and still feel tired power beneath the surface.

“Just want to find something I can do for JJ,” he says. “At least make him a mirrorway to the UK so he can feel a little more at home. Although - fuck. I guess those magicians who tried to kidnap him are still there.”

He shakes his head bitterly. “It’s not fair to him that they would treat him like that. He deserves to be able to go home.”

Anonymous asked:

You can do it Jackieboy man!! Call that boy and fix both your broken hearts. You deserve the chance to apologize and see him again.

Jackie presses the numbers into the phone with a slight shake in his hands, biting his lip as he leans down over it and hits the green call button.

He won’t answer, right? Nobody answers unknown numbers.

It rings once. Twice.

“This is Deshmukh.”

Jackie tongue cleaves to the top of his mouth. He said it so suddenly and so directly. Business-like. Max.

“Hello?”

Jackie draws a single breath in, trying to hold himself together.

“Max.”

The silence on the other end of the phone seems to change. He thinks he hears Max breathe too.

Neither of them speak for a long moment.

“It’s Jackie,” he adds softly. “I… it’s me.”

He hears shuffling and a door closes.

“It isn’t,” says Max.

Jackie closes his eyes, rubbing at his head.

“I know we didn’t leave things well last time.”

“I can’t do this again,” says Max, very quiet. His voice is solid as rock and flat as week-old beer. “I can’t.”

Tears bite Jackie’s eyes. He nods to himself, then shakes his head.

“Max,” he repeats, helpless. “Max.”

Anonymous asked:

Tell Max you're free. Tell him what happened to Anti and how far you've come since then. He'll listen, I know he loves you, you just need to explain some shit.

Jackie nods to himself - to you - and lies back on his bed, holding his injured shoulder.

“I’m at work,” says Max. “I can’t play right now.”

“It’s not a game.”

“It’s always a game,” he says. “You’re playing with me.”

“It’s Jackie,” he whispers. “Not… not him.”

“Then it’s a trap.”

“I know you have good reason to think that. I - I don’t know how to tell you - he’s dead, Max. We all fought free of him. Marvin killed him. I burned him til there was nothing left. We’re in Ireland. He’s gone.”

Max doesn’t answer.

“I think about you every day,” says Jackie. “All the time. I - ”

“Please don’t,” cries Max, the strength in his voice wavering. “Please.”

Jackie covers his mouth with his hand, trying to breathe.

“Is there anything I can do to prove it to you?”

“It’s a game,” replies Max softly. “It’s always a game.”

“I miss you so much.”

“Please don’t toy with me. Haven’t you put me through enough? I can’t save him so I have to stop trying. I can’t do this anymore. You must leave me alone.”

Jackie’s eyes burn. His chest hurts.

“Just one thing then, tiger, because you know I’d give you anything you asked me for,” he sobs. “I just want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I would say I regret it but I’m too selfish. I’m just glad you’re safe. If it kept you safe I don’t regret it. And thank you - for the… for the hotel room and the clothes and the food and for - for you. For music while we laid down together and for your hand on my arm. Cause you made me feel like there was something worth living for again.”

“Stop it,” cries Max. “You can’t just - ”

An alarm goes off somewhere on Max’s end of the call, loud enough Jackie pulls the phone away from his ear. Max swears violently.

“I have to go,” he says.

“Okay,” chokes Jackie.

But Max doesn’t go. There’s a long moment of the ringing of the alarm.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Juice Box,” Max croaks. “You are my ghost now: you haunt me. I love you and I always will.”

“Max,” says Jackie, and then the call ends.

Jackie lets the phone thump down on the bed.

The two halves of his heart are clutched in his fists.

He slides down onto the bed and cries so hard it hurts.

Anonymous asked:

You can always call him again at another time? If you're persistent he might believe you. Like he said, he'll always love you. Don't give up Jackie!

“Okay, yeah,” he says, drawing heaving breaths. “Yeah, okay, okay. I wish he was here.”

He cries into his pillow. It’s only moments later that the door is bursting open and both Henrik and Chase are looking at him in concern. They come to his bedside and Chase puts a hand on his back, leaning down to be close to him.

“Jackie, what’s wrong?”

“Do you need more pain medication?”

“No, I’m okay,” he hiccups. “Just stay with me?”

They take their places on his bed, their hands resting on his shoulders and back, mumbling reassurances to him.

Anonymous asked:

Jackie is having some relationship issues, guys, be gentle with him and stay close to him for a while. I feel really bad for you Jackie, but I know he'll believe you eventually. He loves you after all and I'm sure he misses you as much as you miss him.

Twin hums of sympathy come from his brothers, similar enough it actually makes Jackie snort out a snotty laugh. He rolls over and gazes up at the both of them, placing a hand on the side of both their heads.

“Relationship problems?” asks Chase. “Did you meet somebody at work?”

“No,” coughs Jackie, tucking a strand of hair behind his ears. “No, somebody from the past.”

“That Max guy,” offers Henrik. “The one you thought about so much.”

Jackie sighs and flushes at the same time. “I still think about him.”

They nod at him. “You should have told us,” says Chase, patting his shoulder. “Anti said you guys were boyfriends. Was he trying to mock you or was that true?”

“No, that was true,” mumbles Jackie.

“Maybe we can find him again,” offers Chase.

“I just tried to call him,” Jackie says. “It didn’t go well. He doesn’t believe me, I don’t think. That Anti’s gone.”

“We’ll convince him then,” says Chase firmly.

Jackie smiles at him. He’s glad they’re on the same team again.

Henrik and Chase bring him water and some chocolate, and he lets them give him a little more pain medication too, just to calm him down. He lays back on his pillows, exhausted, and lets them sit down on either side of him.

“Wanna watch a movie?” asks Chase.

“Honestly, some distraction would be great right now,” he admits.

“I’ll get the laptop.”

Anonymous asked:

Maybe Stacey can call? Sometimes just having someone different tell the true makes it easier to believe.

“Do you think she’d help?” asks Jackie.

“I’m going over to her place in just a few,” says Chase, arranging the laptop between the three of them. “I’ll ask her, okay?”

“I don’t know how else to convince him,” says Jackie sadly. “Maybe I just hurt him too bad. And now we can’t be together.”

“Jackie,” says Henrik, squeezing his arm warmly. “Was not you who hurt him. Anti took you away from him - not once, but twice. He must be cautious now. To protect his heart, yes? But when he is sure, I bet he comes back.”

“Yeah, man. I mean, he chased halfway across the world just for the chance of getting you back. If he realized he has a real chance this time, I bet he’d leap. He’s probably just scared.”

Anonymous asked:

How do you plan to make a mirror for Jj if you don't really remember what to do for it? Genuine query, I'm sure you can do it though!!

Marvin laughs. “No, you’re right. But the other magicians said they’ll teach me again! They’re going to help me get back some of those old skills. Apparently there’s a whole enchantment. It’ll be good. I think maybe I do want to lead again… I’ll need more help than I did before, maybe, but if they let me learn for a while I could maybe take charge again. Everyone was so kind and even happy to see me. That’s what I want for JJ, you know? Someone in the UK just needs to take charge and - ”

Marvin cuts himself off, blinking.

“That’s what we’ll do,” he mumbles.

He’s off in a moment, hurrying down the stairs and towards JJ’s room, pushing in the door to find his little brother sorting through some books preserved on the left side. Jameson looks up at him.

“Jamie,” he says triumphantly. “We’ll overthrow the corrupt magicians.”

Jameson cocks an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“In Brighton.” Marvin moves over to kneel down beside him. “The ones who tried to take you and anyone else who runs with them. I am the head of the Irish magicians and you are a powerful British magician. We’ll throw the rotten ones the hell out. The other magicians told me even most of the British magicians want the leaders gone! If we can organize a change - ”

“Why are you talking about this?”

“Because I want you to feel like you belong there,” he says. “Because - because everyone should have the chance to feel like I did when I found my friends again.”

A shy smile blooms across JJ’s face, though he pulls his gaze away.

“That’s not a small thing, Marvin. It will take a lot of time.”

“We have time.”

“It will be dangerous.”

“We’ve been through worse. JJ, haven’t you been looking for more of a purpose lately? And couldn’t this be part of it?”

.

“Hi,” says Chase, scrolling on the phone when Henrik wakes from a deep nap, his glasses askew on his face and his hair mussed towards the ceiling. Henrik mumbles and pushes himself back into place, rolling over on Jackie’s bed, where their older brother is asleep between them.

A few days have gone past, and Jackie’s doing a little better all around. He’s able to get out of bed without dizziness now and the wound has stayed clean. He’s talking more, to all of them, and what seems to be a small difference has wrapped a veritable blanket of calm after him. He seems relaxed to Chase for the first time since… well, ever.

The only stressor still clinging to him is Max. Chase has been over to see Stacy and the kids every night - they’re waiting for Marvin to remake some mirrors before heading home to Sweden - and apparently she and Max have had a couple terse conversations over the phone, with slow progress.

“We should let him sleep,” sighs Henrik, getting out of bed.

Chase rises with him. This movement between them - the way they ebb and flow together, like birds sharing the same draft - it never seems to change.

“What are you doing on the phone?” asks Henrik, plopping down on their nest and pulling Noodle into his lap. On their windowsill, his caterpillar has rolled itself up into a lumpy green cocoon. “Playing your silly cat game?”

Chase lets out a low breath, sitting down beside him. “Ha. Um, no. Actually, I wanted to tell you something.”

Henrik looks up, the change in atmosphere not lost to him. “Oh?”

Chase nods. “You’re doing better, you know? You had a slip back into that, uh, quiet mode again the other day, but you came out of it quick. I don’t need to be taking caretaker checks and looking after you anymore, really. You’re up to looking after yourself again.”

Henrik blinks. “Okay.”

“And I - well, I’m a dad now. Or, like, I always have been, but - you know what I mean. And I want to help with all of our finances, and to have a life outside of the five of us, and - and - Dok, I got a job offer.”

“Oh!” Henrik’s hand stills on top of Noodle’s head. “Oh, yes, that’s… good. That’s very good! It is.”

“But it means…”

Chase’s eyes meet his and neither of them needs to finish the sentence. It means they’ll be apart for hours at a time. The last time that happened, Anti was taking Dok away to torture him in the spare bedroom or hypnotizing Chase into submission on repeat.

Their lives are so deeply intertwined.

“I just wanted to run it by you,” says Chase, shifting in their blankets.

“It’s good,” repeats Henrik, like a skipping track. “It’s good.”

The words are slightly ashy on his tongue.

A rhythmic rap on the door interrupts them and they turn to see JJ peeking his head in. He taps his wrist politely.

“Shit, is it six already?” asks Chase. “I’ll be right out, JJ.”

“You’re taking him to his meeting? I’ll go with you, Chase.”

“Well, Deutsch, uh.” Chase plays with his hands, tangling their blankets around his fingers. “He was talking about wanting to do stuff individually with the rest of us - kind of making friends with all of us after being alone so long - and I think he was wanting just me to go with him this time. And maybe just you next time. And then Blue, and so on. So I thought that might be good, just me and him.”

Henrik laughs. “But this is silly. He will be in his support group for an hour and he wants to go alone.”

“Yeah, we’ll get coffee or something afterwards, though.”

“But you’ll be alone for an hour,” Henrik stresses. “You will be bored and lonely. Might as well come along, yes?”

“Schneep, I’m going to take the laptop and start on some of the training for work while I’m there,” says Chase, getting red in the face.

Schneep sits back. “Well… well, Chase, maybe we can both have the same job? If you are set on this one, then wonderful.”

Chase won’t look up at him.

“It’s a job as an ER receptionist,” he mumbles. “And it also counts as an internship for, uh. For nursing school.”

“But that’s perfect,” says Henrik, sitting up. “Because then we can be - ”

We can be a doctor and a nurse together.

Except…

Blood on Jackie’s shoulder.

Blood down Henrik’s hands.

“Look,” says Chase, reaching out to snag his twin’s hands. “It’s not set in stone yet. Shit, Dok, you know all you have to do is say the word and I’d turn it down in a second. We can go back to the way things were if you wanted. But I… ever since meeting the kids, I feel actual motivation for myself again. I mean, not just motivation to make things good for you, to give you nice things, to make sure you’re safe… but motivation to grow as an adult and be able to provide for them and set them an example. To make them proud of me. And I just thought… I just thought maybe this would be something I could be proud of.”

Henrik looks at him, trying to find the words hovering somewhere around his mouth.

Chase glances at his clock. “Shit, I’m going to make James late for his first meeting. But just think about it, okay? I’ll be home in a couple hours.”

Chase gets up and hugs Henrik before darting away, joining JJ in the living room and getting ready to go. It seems like they’re gone by the time Henrik blinks.

He walks out onto their balcony, still holding Noodle in his arms, and watches his younger brothers walk away.

Anonymous asked:

You'll be okay Henrik. Moving through and past the co dependence you have with Chase is really important. Just because he's gone for a moment doesn't mean he's leaving forever. You have to slowly teach yourselves to be apart again. You could also try finding a job, Schneep! Just not the exact same one as Chase. Let loose the rope and learn to be individuals!

“Try finding a job. What am I going to do?” mumbles Henrik, pushing back from the balcony and wandering inside again. Marvin is out and Jackie is asleep. “A surgeon scared of blood, ha. What a joke. Chase has kids now, maybe Stacy… me, I’m an asexual immigrant with co-dependency issues and PTSD. Not really a huge market for that. There isn’t much in the world for me other than my brothers.”

He squeezes Noodle against him, bumping their heads together, and closes his eyes.

“But I swear I will make sure Chase gets this!” he says, his voice ferocious. “I will support him, I don’t care if he has to spend more time away. For him to stop himself from pursuing something he wants on my behalf would be terrible! I will be good brother. He will still have time for me… is all okay.”

Anonymous asked:

Chase moving into being an independent adult is very important for his healing. Henrik I know it hurts, but you two's codependence isn't healthy. You two regaining independence and learning to be apart again is so, so important, and Chase is doing well taking it in small steps. Maybe you should get a job too, or volunteer somewhere? Once you're feeling well enough of course.

“Ugh, I know,” groans Henrik, rubbing at his head. “What a mess. But we’ve been together so much, for so long. There were so many times I wouldn’t have survived without him there, even just to talk with me, and I know and love him so much. It will be like a separating of conjoined twins. I must cut a part of myself away. But if he will be happier in the end, I will do it. Do not tell him I am being such a baby, okay? I just get nervous, that’s all. I can’t watch someone tear him away from me again. Almost taking him from me forever was the worst thing Anti ever did to me.”

crystalninjaphoenix asked:

You're not being a baby, Henrik. Your feelings are valid, even if they go against what your brain knows. Emotions are complicated in any situation, but you've gone through so much, which tangles everything up. It's okay to be scared and unsure and worried about losing Chase again. I think a lot of people would feel the same in your situation.

“Yeah?” He pets Noodle’s back, gazing at the floor. “Yes, maybe. Thank you. I suppose I’ve really only been out of my head for the last week or two, in the end. Is a lot.”

He chuckles darkly. “Strange thing about survival, I suppose. You’re guaranteed to need each other. I guess I will just feel… a little useless, a little bit like a burden, if Chase learns to be independent and I am still here needing him, with nothing else going for me. Perhaps you are all right - I must find something else to do with myself. Just hard to imagine what that would be.”

patthatsmilesback asked:

What meeting are you going to JJ? Did you decide yes on the deaf groups? And I'm so glad you're taking a moment to just be with Chase! Learning to be friends with everyone again must be lovely despite its difficulties.

“Yes,” he signs, his hands a little shaky, but not bad. “Jackie helped me find one. For now, it’s just a group dinner. Low pressure. Not like an AA meeting or counseling, just… people hanging out. The restaurant knows we’re coming. Everyone should be nice.”

“Everyone will be nice,” says Chase firmly, turning to him as they reach their destination. “But if they’re not, or something starts to happen, I am right here across the street. Okay? I’ll be right here at this table in the window.”

Chase gestures to the little coffee shop beside them, quiet in the evening hour. JJ nods, trying to be just as firm, and straightens up.

“You ready?” asks Chase, glancing at the restaurant across the street.

“Think so,” JJ replies.

“Go on, my man. When you’re done I’ll be right here and we’ll get a coffee, okay? I love you.”

JJ signs it back to him as he turns to cross the street, Chase watching him go. Jameson is wearing worn black slacks and a white button-up. His own choice, now. To dress up a little for himself, and no one else.

Chase smiles down at the ground for a moment, closing his eyes as he smells the crisp cool of the oncoming fall and the sweet petrichor of a rain approaching from a couple miles away, turning the sky into a glow of grey clouds. For a moment, he wonders what Anti would think if he could see him now. Would he admit he was wrong about Chase’s uselessness and brokenness? Would he insist that Chase is just grasping at a happiness he’ll never find? Would he maybe, just maybe, find a little pride in him, to see him surviving despite all the bullshit he put him through?

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Chase murmurs, looking up to the sky. “You could have been here to see me, Anti, if you even once tried to love me right.”

This is the reward of freedom: watching his little brother cross the street in a white button-up to go get dinner with some people who will become his friends, and sitting down in the window of a coffee shop to start training for a new job so he can buy Christmas presents for his children. It is more than enough for him, he thinks.

He orders a small coffee with a little bit of spending money, sitting down at the window table and opening up the laptop. After a couple minutes, he becomes aware of something else, too: a blond girl a couple tables away, sending him glances every minute or two. He flushes and raises his cup to his mouth, trying not to look back too much.

There might be a couple extra bonuses to freedom, too. He gives her a small smile as their eyes meet and she grins and looks away.

Anonymous asked:

Oooooh a cute girl? Feeling like a flirt, Chase, wink wink?

“I cannot hit on girls,” mutters Chase, hiding his face from her. “She’s out of my league anyway. Don’t tease me! Oh my gosh.”

He takes another drink of his coffee and then nearly spits it out again, scrambling to look busy behind the laptop. “Holy shit, she’s coming over to me, holy shit, holy shit.”

He shuts his mouth as she gets closer, trying to look casual as she comes up to him.

“Studying?” she asks.

Chase’s mouth feels dry. He does actually wish Henrik was here, but then it seems like that would have made it unlikely for her to approach. He clears his throat.

“Just working on some training for my new job,” he says. “So yeah, kind of.”

“What a coincidence,” she says, her body swaying slightly where she stands, almost playful, or maybe shy. “I was just working on some homework. Was wondering if you needed a study buddy.”

Oh, shit, she wants to sit down. She’s so pretty, wildly pretty. With all this curly white-blond hair tied up on her head and clear, light-catching blue eyes. The textbook against her hip is for Advanced Statistics, a big old college book pressed against her notebooks and zip-up pencil case.

“You a college student?” he asks.

“Getting my Master’s,” she says, and then adds, to the unspoken question. “I’m twenty-four.”

He grins weakly. “Um, yeah, feel free to sit down. I’m Chase, by the way.”

“Jenna.”

Jenna, wow. She sits down across from him, setting her things down on the table with a tall black coffee. He bites his lip and then sends you a scathing, red-faced look, like he can already hear you teasing him from the other side of the camera, but his eyes are alight. He doesn’t think he’s ever told a girl his real name before. He even had the barista put CJ on his cup. Oh, fuck. Does he talk to her? Does he ignore her? Does he ask for her number? What does he do when JJ comes? He takes another drink of his coffee, smiling shyly at her from behind the cup.

unpredictably-ghostly asked:

Oooh Chase she seems nice! if you want to try talking, maybe ask about what she's studying? don't stress, but if you can for sure try and get her number! could turn out to be something good :D

He stares at the lip gloss gleam she leaves on her coffee cup, trying to think straight. Okay, what’s she studying? That’s good. Just start. Just try.

“What’s your Master’s in?” he manages.

She starts talking to him about journalism and the different countries she wants to travel to, and he listens intently. It’s hard to make conversation about current events when he’s been completely secluded from the world for the last year and a half or so, but he picks up on pieces. He tells her he’s lived in Peru, which excites her, but when she asks him more about it he realizes most of those memories are kind of upsetting, and stammers into silence again soon.

They sit quietly, both half-pretending to study.

“I’m back in the country now to see my kids,” he says, and then flushes hot red as he realizes that’s probably not something a woman wants to hear when she might be hitting on him.

“Oh, wow, how many?”

“Two.”

“They must be pretty young.”

“Kind of. Er, well - our first, I was only like 18.”

Wow, Chase. Great. Why don’t you tell her you still kind of might be in love with your ex while you’re at it? Throw in your depression and alcohol issues and you’ll be good to go! She goes quiet and he knows it’s over. She’s out. He flunked this interaction.

“This is probably, like, way too much information,” Jenna says, scooting forward. “But I gave up a baby for adoption when I was about that age. So, like, I get it.”

And just like that, they’re talking for real. About kids, about exes, about family, about everything. Somehow it evolves into video game talk, and they’re laughing over games Chase only just now remembered he ever played. They’ve scooted closer together, chattering in the window of the coffee shop as the evening light falls. The rainy sunset paints the loose strands of her hair in cool gold against the sunshower.

Anonymous asked:

Get her number Chase!! You're smooth as hell, I know you can do it. Maybe offer to buy food for the two of you? No one can turn down a number in exchange for coffee house pastry!

Smooth as hell. Yeah. He - for a second, yeah, he feels it. Feels like maybe he really was this person at some point, someone who was comfortable around girls. Comfortable around people, hell. Around everyone. An extrovert, maybe. He’s smooth. Yeah.

He’d like to buy her something, though he’s only got enough cash on hand for him and JJ to get a snack, and he wouldn’t give that up even for her. But if he gets a job, maybe he can really make this work. Maybe he could try out an actual relationship. Take her to movies and get her dinner… hang out at her place and cook together… dang, his mind jumped ahead fast. So maybe he’s an extrovert - and a bit of a romantic, too.

“So can I get your number?” he asks, finally feeling up to it when the coffee’s gone. She smiles at him. It makes a strand of hair fall into her face, and she pushes it back, a little color in her cheeks.

“Course,” she says. “But I could do you one better. I’m almost done with my homework, and I’ve got the new Link game on my Switch back home. Do you want to come over?”

Woah. He feels like an achievement just unlocked at the bottom of his screen. She likes him. She wants to hang out with him. To be friends, maybe more. He hasn’t made a friend in… he doesn’t remember. There was Xin Yi, of course. But the memory of her is blurred in his mind. Distantly, he remembers laughing with her in the library and her teaching him to cook his own dinner at her stall, teasing him and encouraging him to try Singlish phrases.

He’d love to hang out like that again. With a pretty girl. With a friend.

“Oh, shit,” he says. “I’d like to, for sure, but I have to meet my brother later.”

“Ah, come on,” she says, giggling at him. Oh, he thinks he’s already wrapped around her finger. “He won’t mind you blowing him off.”

Maybe that’s true for some families a little more well-adjusted than theirs, but even if he were just scheduled to go home and play card games with Jameson, he still wouldn’t ditch him, even for a pretty girl.

“I really can’t,” he chuckles. “Trust me, I’m bummed.”

“If you’re bummed then why not?”

He doesn’t think she’s being pushy, or at least not trying to be, just teasing him. He smiles as she scoots a little closer to him, no longer trying to hide the flirting, and he wiggles his eyebrows at her, which makes her laugh. She’s close to him. He can smell her. Vanilla. Wow.

“Come on,” she purrs, flashing her eyes at him.

Wow. Their gazes meet. Big blue eyes. Wow, eyes you could drown in.

He feels slightly sick to his stomach, his smile flickering. He looks across the street, wondering if JJ’s meeting is done by now.

She wraps her hand around his wrist. His gaze flashes right back to her. Damn. Blue. His mouth tastes dry. She tilts her head at him. He can’t move.

All that coffee, and now he just feels sleepy.

“Come back to my place,” she says, smiling at him.

“Okay,” says Chase, tongue thick in his mouth. “Yes, of course.”

Whatever you say.

Anonymous asked:

How is the meeting going JJ? Are you having fun meeting new people?

It’s really good, the meeting.

He doesn’t talk too much, and maybe he looks down at his dinner for most of it, but it’s still… yeah. Really good.

Everybody speaks in sign. There are a couple non-Deaf and non-mute people there, some parents of young Deaf children still trying to find their way through the changes it brings, and some partners there to be supportive and just have fun with their spouse and friends. Some of them have hearing aids and some don’t. Some of them have always been Deaf and some haven’t. One man has a communication board. One woman, like JJ, can hear but not vocalize.

He feels okay. And everyone is nice.

By the time dinner’s gone and they’re all just talking, he’s more engaged in the conversation. He’s chatting with the guy beside him, Theo, a true crime buff signing about some disappearance in Australia. JJ wonders if he’ll be upset by the discussion, but after a few minutes he still feels fine, grinning as he watches Theo sign so fast and so casually that your translation software can barely keep up. Theo’s naive about the shit that JJ’s been through, and even though he’s watching all these shows and podcasts about bad things in the world, he doesn’t really get it. But there’s something really nice about that - about his eagerness to help and the way it feels like something faraway to Theo, something that could never happen to him. JJ thinks that most people should be this naive. It’s good. It feels safe.

After about an hour and half, they’re dispersing, signing goodbyes and arguing over where they’ll go next time, and everybody seems to be taking the individual time to tell JJ: “see you next time, thanks for coming, so nice to meet you!” The organizer, Lisa, makes sure she has his number. Then she tries to go in for a hug.

JJ jolts back, alarmed. He doesn’t want to freak out on her. Humiliation and fear of offending her wash over him as she draws back, frowning, but she quickly smiles again, and instead of making it awkward, she just sets her outstretched hands warmly on his arms for a moment.

He breathes shakily as he feels her palms settle against the white fabric of his shirt. He wills himself not to move. Her hands are gentle. She only leaves them there for a second.

Then she’s drawing away, and everything is okay.

He’s still okay.

“See you next time, JJ,” she signs.

A little sign name, just for him. Just a quick pair of Js, not even particularly personal. But it means a great deal to him in that moment.

He’s red with triumph as he moves across the street, his back held high.

And you told me I would never! he thinks to his brother’s ghost, and for a second it makes him want to cry, because he let Anti tell him for so long that no one else would ever care about him or bother to make accommodations, and he’s just met a whole group of people who aren’t just willing to make space, but who already seemed to have a place carved out and waiting for someone just like him. You were such a coward, Anti. You just lied because you didn’t want me to go. I was never the problem. I am not a problem. I’m a person.

I’m my own person.

The rain is coming gently down on him, cool in his hair and on his face. He feels at peace.

And then Chase isn’t in the window of the coffee shop.

JJ stops short on the pavement, blinking. Well… maybe he just couldn’t get that seat?

He presses inside, looking around, but his brother isn’t there. He glances at the baristas and the people around him. The world feels loud again. Full of talking.

He steps back outside, shivering and glancing around. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Maybe he went to a shop? Maybe he’ll come home soon?

Why isn’t he here? He promised.

crystalninjaphoenix asked:

Uh... guys? Don’t be alarmed, but I think something happened to Chase. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but remember how he got all relaxed when looking at Marvin’s eyes a couple times? There was this other person with big blue eyes, and like I said I don’t want to draw conclusions but... he acted a bit weird.

JJ’s face flashes in alarm. He draws himself back against the window, hiding under the awning, and stares out at the street with wide round eyes.

Is he… is he gone? Is he in trouble? His eyes prickle. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Hi,” a sign flashes in front of him, and he looks up to see Theo jogging towards him, a big grin on his face. “I’m just waiting for a Lyft! Can I wait with you?”

“Yes,” knocks JJ, wiping at his face.

“Hey, you okay?”

“My brother was supposed to be here to walk home with me, that’s all.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s just not here? Maybe he’s just late.”

“He walked here with me and said he would wait,” stresses JJ. “Because I have psychotic episodes, so I don’t always like to be alone.”

“Oh. And he’s just not here?”

“I think something might have happened.”

“Do the people inside know anything?”

“I don’t know how to ask.”

Theo blinks and then shakes his head at him in determination, beckoning JJ back inside the cafe and heading for the counter. He pulls his phone out and types rapidly into it before holding it boldly out towards the barista.

“Oh, okay,” she says, looking up at them. “No problem. What can I get you?”

Theo hands the phone to JJ, who carefully types out a message.

“Have you seen my brother Chase? He was in here waiting for me but I can’t find him. He looks a lot like me.”

“I think I actually do know who you mean,” says the girl, reading the message. “He was sitting in the window. You do look really alike!”

“Yes!” nods JJ.

“I think he left, sir. He was talking to a lady. I’m pretty sure they left together.”

He did go with someone. He could be in trouble! He could have been hypnotized on accident again. What if she makes him do something he doesn’t want to? Where is he? JJ’s heart burns against his chest and his stomach cramps. He translates for Theo numbly.

Theo’s signing back to him, looking angry now, and he hands the phone over to the barista one more time before sitting down with JJ at a table.

“I’m sorry, JJ,” he signs. “That was rude. We can walk to your place together, man.”

“No, Chase wouldn’t leave me behind,” insists JJ. “Something’s wrong.”

The barista brings something over to them, signing a warm ‘thank you!’ and Theo pushes a hot chocolate into JJ’s hands.

unpredictably-ghostly asked:

FUCK HANG ON hey JJ??? Or Marv? Someone with magical knowledge might be good rn, considering I think Chase is being hypnotised, or maybe drugged? He's at the cafe across from JJ's meetup, there's a blonde woman with him, gave the name Jenna, I think she's dangerous.

JJ’s scared now, and worse, Theo is there to see it. He tries desperately not to cry, clinging to that warm cup of hot chocolate, blinking away tears and breathing in slow, deliberate breaths.

Theo taps for attention. “Do you need to text someone?”

“Please.”

JJ pulls Stacy’s number from his memory, and when she answers right away, he thinks he could forgive her for everything she’s ever done.

“Stacy it’s JJ”

“Hi is everything okay?”

“Is Marvin with you?”

“Yeah making mirrors with his friends lol”

“Can he come meet me? I’m alone, I think something might be wrong”

“Are you home??”

“No. This cafe, Green House it’s called”

“He says he can come right over. Are you safe? Should I call police? Tell Jackie?”

“Not yet. Thank you.”

“Okay he’ll be right there.”

JJ wipes at his face, breathing out a shaky breath. Theo expresses a look of worry at him.

“My brother just has some problems with running off,” signs JJ, not knowing how to explain it. “Our big brother is coming to help me look.”

“I’ll wait here with you.”

“Don’t you need to get home?”

“No, I’ll stay. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

JJ chuckles despite himself, taking a shaky sip of his chocolate. “Thank you.”

Theo gives an exaggerated “you’re welcome!” like a little bow, and he’s glad he’s there with him.

unpredictably-ghostly asked:

Thanks Theo, and it's great that you guys are onto this so quickly JJ! I'm sure you guys will be able to sort out whatever's happening.

“You have a camera with you but not a phone?”

“It’s a long story,” signs Jameson, grimacing at Theo. “I’m a little weird.”

Theo laughs. His laugh is not typical and he draws attention from others as the air wheezes out of him. But Jameson likes it. He likes to just… to just see Theo be Deaf in public. He doesn’t even glance around at the people looking.

“I like weird,” says Theo. “Don’t worry so much, JJ. Everyone’s weird.”

“Easier said than done,” admits JJ shyly.

“It’s just practice,” Theo tells him. “It really is. Day by day.”

Marvin comes pushing into the coffee shop in that moment and JJ lets out a shaky gasp of relief, rising just in time for Marvin to crash into him, gripping at his shoulders and his face.

“Are you okay? Oh, my darling. Where’s Chase, what’s going on?”

“The cameras saw a girl take Chase away,” Jameson manages, eyes getting hot again.

“Taking him?”

“They think he had a hypnosis trigger and he went with her instead of staying for me.” JJ pauses to grip at Marvin’s shirt, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t know if he’s okay. She could make him do things he doesn’t want to do.”

Marvin whirls on you. “Where did he go?”

“They would have told me if they knew.”

“Who’s this?”

“From my meeting. This is Theo. Theo, this is my sibling Marvin.”

Theo glances at Marvin, sipping his own drink coolly. “You always speak aloud to your brother?” he asks Marvin. “Don’t you speak sign?”

Marvin blinks. “Um. I guess we usually speak aloud. He can hear.”

“Yeah, I don’t lip-read,” replies Theo. “Try it again?”

Marvin looks at JJ in astonishment. “Your new friend is giving me sass,” he says, signing this time, and Theo grins.

“Well, you could sign with me sometimes,” says JJ, but he changes the subject just as quickly. “But Chase is in trouble!”

“How do we find him?”

“I don’t know!”

Marvin looks around the coffee shop like he’s expecting Chase to appear from behind a table. “He could be anywhere,” he mumbles. “She could - she could make him do anything.”

Anonymous asked:

Chase please be careful! Her blue eyes are triggering your old hypnosis! I don't think she's doing it intentionally, but you need to get out of there for now.

Blue eyes.

Hypnosis?

He blinks drowsily, his head swimming as he tries to focus on what you’re saying. He’s alone for a moment, a voice chattering at him from the other room. Glasses clink and he turns his head towards the buzz of the television, looking down to see a Nintendo controller on his lap and an empty glass of wine on the table in front of him. Did he drink? Wasn’t he… wasn’t he not going to do that anymore?

Where is he?

“And I was like terrified and laughing my ass off at the same time,” Jenna giggles, returning to the room with the bottle of wine. She fills her own glass and sits down beside him, close to his body. “Like, that has to be the worst way to ask a girl out - in a fucking silent study hall, with everyone looking at me! And then the next week he came back and ‘thanked me for my honesty,’ haha!”

He looks up at her and the world seems to steady around him again, at least a little, like he’s found his balance on a shaky ship. She smiles at him with those huge, vivid eyes. He can’t quite look away. She pushes some of her hair sweetly from her face at the attention, smiling at him with gleaming white teeth.

Bite. Blue eyes. You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you, Trick?

“Want some more?” she asks, holding the bottle towards his glass.

“Um,” he manages, his stammer making his mouth feel sticky and frozen. “Um.”

No, he’s - he’s not supposed to, he said, he… blue eyes…

She giggles at him. That giggle, that little laugh. A little teasing now. Maybe a little too teasing. “Of course you do,” she says, filling his glass. She presses it into his hand. He takes it, staring at her. She clinks their glasses together and he drinks, his eyes fixed on her. When she settles down on the couch, her hand comes to rest on his thigh.

A wave of nerves rushes over him.

Trapped in bed. Hands roam over him, locking him in place. He wants to get up but he can’t. He can’t even ask to get up. No one is listening. Anti plays with Dapper while he’s unconscious, moving his body like a toy.

“Go on, then,” Jenna murmurs, her head resting on his shoulder. “Try the game out, yeah?”

Yeah. Of course. He’s… hypnosis? He’s…

Her hand rubs at his thigh. He picks up the Switch controller and moves his character, gnawing on his lip.

Something isn’t right.

Anonymous asked:

Chase no, you have to go back to Jameson! Remember that blue eyes are a trigger for your hypnosis, don't look her in the eye. Jameson needs you to walk him home so he feels safe, tell this girl that you need to head back for now and you can meet up at a later time.

Jameson!

“Shit!” gasps Chase, dropping the remote. “I’m - I was supposed to meet my brother!”

“Damn, you two must be close,” says Jenna. “I thought we decided it was okay to skip out on him? Just this once.”

Chase blinks. Did he decide that? Wait, but - “Jamie has a psychotic disorder and he’s only recently out of hospital. He’s still adjusting. Someone needs to be there with him.”

“Wasn’t he meeting friends or something? It didn’t sound like he was alone. You agreed before. Just settle down again, love.”

Love, she called him. He’s flushed all the way down to his neck. Her hand is warm on his thigh. A girl hasn’t been this close to him other than a hug from Stacy in a year. And she seems so nice. Her eyes are… so nice.

Her hand reaches up to brush across his cheek. He flinches just a little, staring at her. Then she’s kissing his mouth.

She curls her hands around his head and pulls him closer in. The strength seems to slide out of him. They kiss on the couch. His mouth knows where to go. She breathes against him. Her hands push at his chest.

Jameson?

But he did decide he was okay. He must have. She says it’s okay. Aren’t you going to be a good boy, Trick? It’s not your job to look after Jameson.

His head hurts. Her hands are soothing at the pain. Stroking at his scalp. She tastes nice.

“We - we - we need to - later,” he stammers. “My brother - ”

“Chase,” she says softly, smiling at him. “Look, I get that you’re nervous. But you don’t have to make excuses. I haven’t been exactly subtle today… I don’t usually bring guys home like this. But you looked so handsome sitting in the light, and then we just clicked… I feel like it’s meant to be, you know?”

Meant to be. He was handsome? They did click. They did. She’s so pretty.

“You’re shy, I get it,” she murmurs. “But just follow my lead. I can tell you want this.”

Does he?

Her hand slips under his shirt. He jumps.

Hands grabbing at him. He’s yanked back into bed. He cries for Dok. Shut the fuck up, Trick. Shut the fuck up.

He shakes beneath her hands.

“Calm down,” she says, kissing him again.

“Wait,” he stutters.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. Her mouth silences him. “You’re fine. I know you like this. You do. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he chokes. But - but no, too. But he’s not supposed to say that. He’s not allowed to. Shut the fuck up, Trick.

No. No. I don’t want to shut the fuck up. Anti, you can’t do this to me.

You lie down and remember where you belong.

No. You’re dead. I don’t want… I’m… I’m free. I fought.

Blue eyes. Anti is laughing at him. Jenna giggles. Yeah, right.

Anonymous asked:

Marvin, JJ, he's at Jenna's house. She doesn't seem to understand he's hypnotized and thinks he wants to be intimate with her. Things are looking really scary. Is there any way to find him? JJ you could always go back in time and run across the street to him to separate them!

“Maybe we should do that,” says Marvin. “We can’t let Chase go through that. I need to get to him. JJ, are you up for that?”

“I was able to take Jackie back in time a few weeks ago,” says JJ. “I think maybe I could.”

“And tell this woman to back the fuck off my brother in the meantime,” snarls Marvin.

“What is going on?” asks Theo, glancing between them.

JJ flushes. He’s going to have to leave his meeting and no one from the group will remember him. But he can go again next week and try again. If that’s what it takes to save Chase, it’s well worth it, even if he has to go another week without Theo or Lisa or any of the friends he just made. That’s JJ’s job. To fix mistakes. To fix problems. He can do it.

crystalninjaphoenix asked:

JJ, you don't have to fix all mistakes. I mean, yes, time travel is helpful. But it's not good for you to try and fix everything for everyone else while not giving anything to yourself. We can't stop you if you want to rewind to fix this. It is a good idea, but not the only one. Just... whatever you decide, don't think of it as your job to fix everything. You're not there just for everyone else, but yourself too, okay?

Marvin stops, turning to look at JJ. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that’s your job.”

“No, I know,” says JJ. “But it is and that’s okay.”

“No - no. Jay. Goddammit. I’m just scared for him.”

“Me too.”

“Is this something where we should call the Garda?” asks Theo.

“Do you think they could help?” asks JJ.

“They’ll just think Chase went home with some girl, won’t they? Maybe some of the other magicians can help. I’ll make a call, okay?”

scunneredzombie asked:

Is there any other way? Fixing mistakes isn't your job anymore Jay, you can try other options first. But if you or Marvin can't get to him any other way it might be the best plan.

“If no one else can help, I’ll do it proudly,” says JJ. “Okay?”

Marvin pats his cheek, pulling his phone to his ear. “We’ll find him, sugar, I promise. And Chase isn’t as fragile as he sometimes thinks he is. If you and him were able to fight off Anti even while trapped in that room just the two of you, you can do anything.”

Anonymous asked:

Don't lay and take it like you would've under Anti's control, Chase. You are free, you fought and he's dead. You can fight this off, you can break free. Marvin and JJ are panicking without you there. Tell her no! If she has any respect she'll listen if you revoke consent. You are allowed to say no, you are allowed to make your own choices and give or remove consent.

Yeah. Yeah. He did fight, didn’t he? You were there. You remember. What is he, some pet to be played with? He’s Trick. He’s Chase. He’s Jack’s motherfucking protagonist. He took care of Dapper when he was sick and saved Dok from the porch. He threw things at Anti to distract him from Red and Blue. He was strong. He fought through every ounce of power and manipulation Anti threw at him.

He can feel it in his head, the need to obey. He used to think it came from love for his brother. But now, with this girl he barely knows starting to lay him down on the couch, he can recognize the impulses that always drove him back to Anti’s side: fear of being abandoned and unwanted.

But he isn’t. He isn’t unwanted. And he doesn’t need some girl to make him feel loved with warm hands and a mouth on his own any more than he ever needed Anti to validate him.

Blue eyes.

Henrik has blue eyes too, meeting his own whenever he was scared. Jackie and Marvin have blue eyes, always looking out for him even when he messed up. And JJ, looking up at him with those huge blue eyes when Chase protected him from invaders and defended him from Anti. Because he might be the second youngest, but he is still JJ’s big brother. And he was supposed to be there for him. He said NO, and that he wanted to wait for his brother, and this girl dragged him home anyway.

“I don’t want to do this,” chokes Chase.

“We can slow down,” murmurs Jenna, stroking his hair. She leans in to kiss him. He pulls his head away, shaken.

“Why won’t you listen to me? Thank you, but no.”

“You’re shaking so much,” she says, scratching gently at his beard. “You’re just nervous. You were so loud at the coffee shop and then so quiet once we got here… I think you probably like it, huh? A girl bossing you around a little?”

She sits up on his lap, grinning at him. “That’s so cute. You’re all responsive.”

“You can’t assume that,” he says bitterly, tears rising in his eyes. “You just - what, I got nervous and you decided that was hot to you, huh? Decided I just needed you to push me? I’m a guy so I must want sex, right?”

“Calm down,” she protests, frowning now. “I was just - ”

“I want my little brother,” he says, and his voice breaks. His eyes rise with tears. “Holy shit. I don’t want your hands on me, I - I didn’t want alcohol - why weren’t you paying attention? Did I ever say yes to any of this other than letting you talk me into going home with you? Did you think that entitled you to anything else you wanted?”

“Chase - ”

“You don’t know how bad you just scared me,” he sobs, and she’s getting off him now, standing up and drawing away from him in alarm. “You have no idea the shit that I’ve been through.”

“Sweetheart, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to - ”

“Like I’ve never been pinned down and forced to use my body in ways I didn’t want? Like I never woke up in bed with someone who was hurting me? Like he never crawled into bed beside me and I was sometimes scared that he might - that maybe he would - ”

“You don’t have to be so dramatic!” Jenna snaps, her face red with heat. “You were into me, don’t lie! I could feel you, you know.”

“And that means I wanted you to pressure me into sex?”

“Just get out of my apartment!” she yells, shoving his shoulder when he gets up. “What a freak! Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to girls if you’re damaged goods!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking to guys if you don’t even care about whether they want to be with you or not!” he screams. “All you had to do was ask me yes or no, but you didn’t even bother once!”

She slaps him hard and he shouts, grabbing his jacket blindly and rushing out of the door, his heart pumping so hard it makes his ribs shudder in his chest. He can’t breathe through how angry he is. The sudden fear that she will follow him down the stairs and force him to do something he doesn’t want to consumes him like flame and he takes off at a sprint, racing down the street in a panic.

He just wants to go home. He just wants to go home and never, ever leave the house again. There are people around him, staring at the scene he’s creating, and he’s scared. His skin crawls.

“Jameson!” he screams, not knowing which way he’s come from or where he’s going now. “Jamie, where are you?”

Anonymous asked:

You fought Chase. You did and you've done it again, you are no ones pet or plaything. You are strong and you can find your way home now. JJ and Marvin are looking for you, you're not alone! Find a phone and give you guy's phone a call maybe? You've got this dude, you'll be okay.

He looks at you and reads the message and looks away again for a moment before seeming to break, grabbing at his chest and biting down hard on his quivering lip. He sinks onto a nearby bench, panting hard, and puts his head in his hands, crying.

“What’s wrong with me that it’s so hard for me to say no?” he sobs. “If I had told her right out she would have left me be, wouldn’t she? But that was wrong of her, what she just did. And it was wrong of Anti too, the way he treated me.”

He has a few minutes just to cry and try to breathe there on the bench, his jacket pulled tight around him. Most people are avoiding him with odd looks, but eventually a pair of girls in scrubs come over to him and greet him gently. He shies away from them, shaking, but their voices are gentle.

“Hi, sir, we just wanted to check if you’re okay?”

“We work at St. Vincent’s just down the street. Do you need to see a doctor?”

He wipes at his eyes, avoiding their gazes. “Um. Um. Is there any way - could I m-maybe - just borrow a phone?”

The girls exchange looks but comply, the taller one pulling out her phone and handing it to him. He manages to shakily dial Stacy’s number.

“Hello?”

“Stace?” he croaks out.

“Chase! Oh, thank God, thank God. Where are you? Are you safe? Chase, I can call the police?”

She’s panicked, but her voice is so warm and concerned he feels a little better just hearing from her. He sniffs and wipes at his snotty nose.

“No, m'okay. I just want to go home.”

“Where are you?”

“Close to a hospital, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He looks up at the nurses. “Do you know if I’m close to a coffee shop called, um, Green House?”

They do know of the shop. They give him directions while he listens to Stacy just breathing on the other side of the line.

“I’m closer to home,” he croaks.

“I can call Marvin and JJ and tell them where you’re headed,” she tells him quickly. “But are you safe walking home?”

“I think so,” he mumbles, exhausted now. “I just want to be home. That’s all. That’s it.”

“Okay.” Her voice is deflated and scared for him. “Okay, I’ll tell JJ and Marv right away, yes?”

“Yeah… thank you.”

There’s a pause. He closes his eyes.

“Stacy?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I’m pathetic?”

She’s quiet for a moment. He hears her shift.

“Chase,” she says. “There were times when I got angry at you, and times when you let me down. You’ve had to deal with your addiction again and again and sometimes I took it personally. You and I have both done stupid things, and mean things, and kind of pathetic things too, yeah. But I have never thought you were pathetic.”

He wipes at tears on his face, nodding.

“And Chase, the moment I saw you alive again, standing there with Henrik and trying to remember me… I knew that despite everything, I will always be proud that you are the father of my children.”

A sob leaves him. He nods, closing his eyes. The nurses are quiet beside him, waiting patiently.

“Anti caught you,” says Stacy. “But you never, ever let him catch us. And when you found your strength again, you came home to us.”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“I’m going to come check on you soon,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“Go home, love,” she says, and something catches in his throat. “I’ll tell your brothers. Everything’s going to be okay.”

scunneredzombie asked:

Stacy is right Chase, you're not pathetic. You are a fighter, a lover, a guard, a good brother. You make up for your mistakes and you care for your family in any way you can no matter the danger. You're so fucking strong and wonderful. Get home as soon as you can, and get rest, hug Henrik, and let yourself come down from this gently. Marvin and JJ are going to be there for you. You'll be okay, it'll all be okay.

Chase feels like he’s coming home in a haze, his face flushed and his nose running as he staggers back towards their apartment. He pulls his hoodie up over his head, understanding now why Jackie seems to find it so comforting, and just walks until his feet hurt.

By the time he’s at the door, Henrik has already yanked it open, reaching out his hands, and they fall together like opposite sides of a magnet, their hands meeting each other’s arms and holding on. Henrik doesn’t say anything. He looks at him. Big blue eyes.

Those eyes can’t hurt me, Chase thinks, even as a slight wave of dizziness hits him. Those eyes have never hurt me.

Henrik doesn’t say anything. He pulls Chase quietly into the apartment. There’s no noise. Chase knows that Jackie does not know what happened, or he would be out here no matter his injuries, frantic and angry. Henrik must have taken Stacy’s call on their cell phone.

Henrik opens his mouth to speak. Chase pushes past him and heads into their bedroom, getting into their nest and crawling under the blankets and clothes, hiding. His brother comes to settle down beside him, his sharp, soft breaths filling the silence.

He touches Chase’s cheek. Chase closes his eyes and leans into his warmth. They wrap around each other just a little. Not too tight. Hands on each other’s shoulders.

Henrik begins to rub the muscles of his neck and back. He’ll stay with him as long as he needs to. As he always has.

“Do you want to talk about it?” whispers Henrik.

Chase doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed.

“You were strong, mein zwilling,” says Henrik, touching his cheek. “You’re here.”

“I’m not going to take the job,” Chase says, voice tight. “We can stay right here. I don’t want to go out again.”

“Chase…”

Chase curls into him and falls silent, gripping the fabric of his tired old t-shirt.

Anonymous asked:

Chase, you should still take the job! Don't be scared of people or afraid to be free because of this incident, you're still free and allowed to be your own person. You were so excited about working, didn't you want to buy presents for your kids and be a provider in the household? You can still do those things. You're not pathetic or weak or anything of the sort. You deserve to do the things you want to do without fear or pain.

“Yes,” murmurs Henrik. “They’re right. You still have to take the job. You wanted to make money and - ”

“No! I can get a caretaker check for helping with JJ and that’s fine, that’s plenty! Jackie and Marvin will look after us and we can stay here!”

“Chase,” says Henrik. “You know that’s not what you want. You cannot live in fear. I won’t let that happen to you. You will take the job like you wanted. You have just had a scare.”

Chase cries against him, shaking under the sheets of their nest.

“You will get up tomorrow,” says Henrik firmly. “You and JJ will try going for coffee again.”

“No! I’m not leaving the house.”

“You’ll take the job and you’ll do wonderfully there, you will see. And you must visit the children tomorrow. They will want to see you.”

“Why are you talking like this?” demands Chase, face streaked in tears. “You never talk with this. Can’t you just - just hold on to me like you usually do?”

Henrik closes his eyes, taking a slow breath through his nose.

“In the old days, Chase,” he says, voice measured and quiet. “There was nothing we could do but hold on to each other. But we are no longer trapped. We do not have to wallow in our misery. We do not have to stay stuck.”

“But we could,” hiccups Chase, shaking his head. “We can stay right here. It doesn’t matter. The others would let us, they would. You can stop talking all determined because I fucking saw how you reacted earlier, Schneep. You don’t want me to take the job. You want to stay here too. We can just stay like this, you and me!”

“No,” says Henrik, shaking his head back at him. “No. It’s not just you and me anymore, Chase. We can have real relationships with our siblings. And what’s more, you have children! You must allow yourself to become a real father to them again. As for me… maybe it scared me at first, the thought of you going away. But I have sat here these last couple hours and thought of you.”

“Thought of me?” croaks Chase, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

A small smile plays across Henrik’s face. He looks down at their blankets.

“I have thought of… I have thought of you in scrubs and white sneakers. Working with that determination you get in your face when someone is in trouble. Playing with kids in hospital, making even the miserable ones laugh again. I have thought of you holding my nephew and my niece and bringing them home for the week, for you to care for and love. I have thought of the pride in your face when you will get your nursing degree… of how good you have always been whenever any of us needed help… of how maybe one day you will fall in love and bring a sister home to me, to be a part of my family. How I would be your best man if you ever got married. How you could have a home of your own, and things of your own, and everything you ever wanted. How you will keep your sobriety chips in your pocket and learn to trust yourself again.”

Chase’s eyes drip. He bites his lip, staring at Henrik.

“Chase, I have thought about your future,” says Henrik, looking up at him with earnest, watering eyes. “And I have realized that while this little nest of blankets and dependency we have created for ourselves feels very safe, it is also very stagnant. What I want, Chase, is for you to have a chance to grow: to prove to yourself that you are the strong, talented, and loving man I have always known you to be.”

Chase chokes on a sob, shaking his head at his twin.

“Dok,” he whispers.

“I see the doubt in you,” Henrik answers quietly. “The doubt in yourself. But does anyone know you better than me, my brother?”

“No,” Chase swallows.

“So today you must trust me as you always have,” says Henrik softly. “And let me tell you that this future I am looking at - it is something that you are not only capable of reaching, but deeply deserving of.”

Chase’s eyes fill again and overflow. Henrik reaches out and they cling to each other, Chase shaking against his body, shaking his head.

“Chase?”

Chase and Henrik look up at the sound of the front door bursting open and Marvin and JJ hurrying towards them. Their own door opens a moment later and Marvin stares at Henrik, panting, while Chase hides under their blankets.

“Is he down there?” asks Marvin.

“Yes,” says Henrik. “He’ll be alright.”

“Oh, my amata,” pants Marvin.

“I don’t want to see him,” whimpers Chase.

“He just wants some alone time,” murmurs Henrik.

There’s a pause.

“JJ says he will reverse this for you,” says Henrik, touching Chase’s back. “That he can make it like it never happened.”

“No,” rasps Chase, suddenly angry again. “I want to remember it. I fought her off. I’m never letting anyone control me again.”

Henrik’s hand smooths down his back. “You’re okay,” he tells him softly. “You’re okay.”

Chase listens to Marvin and Henrik murmuring to each other, a part of him wishing everyone would just go away and leave him with Dok again. He hates that everyone knows. “Don’t tell Jackie,” he groans, and Henrik rubs his back reassuringly.

“Hey,” he says. “JJ says he’s not mad at you.”

Chase shifts under the covers. “He’s not?”

“No.”

Chase peeks out from the blankets to look at his brother. JJ tilts his head at him and gives him a smile.

And he’s fine. He not hurt. Plans changed and he adapted, found Marvin, tried to help Chase. He got home just fine.

“We can go get coffee another time,” says JJ, and he steps over and gives Chase a careful hug, knocking their heads together. Chase wipes at his face and hugs him back, lying down again as he pulls away.

“We’ll give you some space,” says Marvin, and when he reaches tentatively out for a hug, he gets one too. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

They back out of the room, closing the door behind them. Henrik smiles at Chase.

“See?” he says, patting his hand. “Everything will be okay.”

Chase wipes at his runny nose, sighing as he begins to come down from his panic. He stares at the ceiling and lets Henrik rub at his back.

“Maybe it’s time for me to acknowledge that the way Anti treated me and JJ was a little sexual,” mumbles Chase.

Henrik looks up at him carefully. His hand rests on his back.

“Chase,” he says. “Did Anti ever have sex with you?”

Chase shook his head. “Not unless he erased it from my brain. I don’t think so, though. It was just a power play for him. To have control over every part of me.”

Henrik shudders.

“He could have though, that’s the thing,” Chase continues. “Or with JJ. I don’t know. The way he would kind of… cling. Manipulate. Touch. For fuck’s sake, he put a collar on me once or twice. Forced us into his bed and would keep us there. I tried to see it as affection. I think he really warped that part of me. My view of affection and sex, of what’s brotherly, of what’s appropriate. He shouldn’t have ever treated us like that. Even if he hadn’t taught JJ that people touching him is dangerous, it’s no surprise that he gets freaked out like that when Anti never gave him any autonomy over his body. So that girl started feeling me up and I just… froze. I wanted it to be affection. She was beautiful and it felt nice. But it’s not affection if you can’t say no.”

“You can say no now,” says Henrik, patting his arm. “No one will touch you like that again if you don’t want.”

Chase smiles weakly at him. “We are a little warped, though, huh? All of us?”

“Yes,” says Henrik, brushing his fingers across his own scars. “Yes. But we are all trying to recover. You were very brave today, my brother. And you will be again tomorrow.”

“You really think that? That I can get back to functioning… almost normally? That I can be a good dad and a good worker and be proud of myself again?”

“Yes,” says Henrik. “And you are already a good dad. We just can’t let the scary parts stop us.”

Chase nods, staring up at the ceiling. They lie together for a long time.

“Henrik?”

“Yes?”

“I think we need to stop sharing a bed.”

His twin pauses beside him.

“Yes,” says Henrik heavily. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Anonymous asked:

I strongly believe Anti's behaviour towards you could be called grooming. All about control, gaining victim's trust, fulfilling a need, using familiar things and feeling to draw them in, isolating the victim, forced criminality, giving gifts like clothes and food, all with the end goal of abuse.

Chase’s eyes water up again. He nods and then slides forward, hiding against Henrik’s chest.

“I remember when you all had to talk me out of his control,” Henrik chuckles humorlessly, his eyes faraway. “With the magicians in Peru. He really did just about everything fucked up to us he could, didn’t he? Separating us from each other and from society. Taking control of whether we got things like food or warmth, but making it Red’s fault if we didn’t. Making us all scared to go to jail, telling JJ he’d be sent to a psych ward for the rest of his life, or homeless. That we wouldn’t be able to survive without him. Or just straight-up beating the hell out of us. The fact that we couldn’t see it…”

“No,” Chase interrupts him roughly. “The fact that we fought him off and escaped is what’s surprising.”

Henrik closes his eyes and hugs him tight.

“We can still share a room for a while, right, Chase?”

“Yeah. Yes. We’ll go slow.”

“And we can sometimes… kind of… kind of cuddle?”

Chase laughs breathlessly. “Yes. Of course.”

They share a look, faces tired and warm. Henrik touches his cheek.

“We need to start fixing our boundaries a little,” says Chase. “But you’re always going to be my best friend. Especially since nobody really understands the shit he put us through like each other.”

Anonymous asked:

Not sharing a bed is a good first step guys! You can still share the bedroom if you want, just to take this in small steps. Co dependent behaviour is really really hard to unlearn, but I believe you guys can do it. To recover you need to learn self-compassion, get to know yourself as your own person. Learn to set boundaries with each other, not in the sense that they'd hurt you, but in the sense that you're your own person with needs and wants of your own.

“Yeah, we have some options about the bedroom, don’t we?”

“Could maybe stay here in the apartment room together most of the time. But when the kids come, you can stay with them in a room in the mirror house.”

“Yeah.”

“Actually have a place for them to stay, and even a little space from the rest of us, sometimes.”

“Right. But they can see their uncles as well. Won’t bother me.”

Henrik leans back, grinning at him. “It’s strange, isn’t it? A few months ago I could not imagine even being friends with anyone but you. Then I got to meet the magicians in Peru, and then had a chance to get closer to the others. And now, we’re safe enough we don’t have to spend all night hiding together.”

Chase smiles back.

“Marvin said, too, that you could get in touch with the magicians in Peru sometime.”

“Oh. Did he?”

“I think it’d be good for you.”

Henrik looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Shit. I could actually tell them that… that I’m free. That they helped save me.”

Chase looks at his twin, and he understands what Henrik means about thinking about his future. About seeing him happier. He might get a little nervous not being close to him at night, but… yes. It’s a good first step.

Anonymous asked:

You, all of you, are still just as worthy of love, joy, and care as you were before your trauma. Don't forget that.

“Right,” they say, meeting each other’s gazes, because when you’re looking at your twin, those words are always true.

“Everything’s going to be wonderful,” says Henrik, reaching out to touch Chase’s cheek. “I know today was hard, and that things will take time. But in the end, it will all be worth it. Even now, I’m proud of you. I’m glad you will take that job. An ER receptionist - everyone will know how tough you are then. How fearless.”

Chase snorts, looking away with a little red in his face. “You’re my biggest fan, man. Too good for me.”

“No,” says Henrik, frowning. “Like I said, I just know you well.”

Chase smiles. “Well, what about you, Deutsch?”

“What about me?”

“You deserve good things too,” says Chase. “What are you planning to do next?”

Henrik’s smile flickers. “Oh. I think just seeing you do well - I think that would be enough for me.”

“Ah, but Dok, that’s not the point, right?” Chase grabs his hand. “Hey, look at me. Aren’t we working on not being co-dependent?”

“So, what, I can’t be happy for you?”

“You can. You just also need to be doing shit to make yourself happy.”

Henrik won’t look at him. “I don’t know, Chase. I don’t think there’s much for me now.”

Chase’s eyes flicker. “What? What’s that mean?”

Henrik rubs at his head. “What am I going to do, Chase? I can’t be a surgeon anymore. I’m scared of blood. My hands shake. I have break-downs.”

“Schneep, you don’t have to be a surgeon. Do you even remember that?”

Henrik shakes his head, his eyes sliding shut. “Only being Anti’s surgeon.”

Chase bites back a shiver. They both remember some of the shit Dok used to have to do all too well. Anti called it surgery. The rest of them knew it was torture. That was when Henrik first started having his shut-downs, where he would stop being present, and would drift away in his head, silent. After that, Anti got bored of him again.

“You shouldn’t do that anymore, then,” says Chase strongly. “I know it was your old job, but I think it would be bad for you. You don’t have to do that. You can do anything you want!”

Schneep sighs. “I want to be a normal doctor again.”

“Well, I want to be a normal dad again, but that’s not going to happen without some trying, is it?”

“Oh, now I am the one getting lectured.”

Chase rolls over, leaning over him.

“Henrik,” he says. “I know you’re going to do fucking amazing things with your life. You’re literally a genius.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”

“Yeah, you are, man, and you can do whatever you want. Just… think about it, okay? If you really want to go back to doctoring, we can work on it, you’ll just need a lot of help to heal, you know? But you can do anything. You could be musician, you could get involved with medicine without being an actual doctor, you could fucking move back to Peru and find ways to help out those people on the mountain. Whatever you want! Just don’t give up on yourself.”

Noodle is pushing his way through the door, heading over to them with a mewl. Chase picks him up and holds him over Henrik, pushing their faces together. “Look into his eyes! Look, he says you’re perfect.”

Henrik is laughing, pushing at Noodle. “Shut the fuck up. You’re such a dork.”

“You’re as worthy of anything as you always were,” says Chase, settling Noodle on Henrik’s chest and smiling at him. “Don’t let your dumb genius brain tell you otherwise. That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

Henrik smiles shyly. “I could really do whatever?”

“You could really, yeah.”

“What if I can’t?” asks Henrik quietly. “What if I have too many breakdowns to work? What if I’m just stuck here forever?”

“Schneep,” says Chase, touching his hand. “Even if you had never woken up from that haze you were in, I would have loved you all the same. And it would never change the fact that you are both deserving and capable of happiness.”

Henrik hums, closing his eyes. Chase settles against his side, and, in the middle of them, Noodle is purring like wild, his eyes closed, vibrating.

It’s late now and the light outside is low. The apartment is warm and safe and quiet.

They’re okay.

They will be okay.

Better even, Chase thinks, setting his head down against Henrik’s arm. We’re going to be better than okay. We’re going to be happy.

Right there, in that moment, despite everything, he realizes he already is.

“We’re going to stop sharing a bed, though,” mumbles Henrik, when they’re both starting to drift off.

“Mmmh,” hums Chase, hugging Noodle against him. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

He hears Henrik laughing. It’s a good sound. On the windowsill above them, the caterpillar from the bus station is crawling out of its cocoon.

[tired-biscuit]

Weird af question so you can seriously ignore it. But what is the key to a happy relationship?

COMMUNICATION

omg i can't stress this enough, it's communication. you have to talk things out with your partner when they do something that bothers you, otherwise you'll be getting nowhere. they can't read your mind as much as you can't read theirs, so if you want changes, you have to voice them out into the open.

and of course, it isn't easy and it takes time. sometimes arguments do happen and either one or both of you is feeling unreasonable and petty and doesn't want to listen, but you still have to try and talk it through after you both calm down enough to be cooperative. you gotta give each other time and try to sort it out like adults.

i've seen so many of my friends break up with their partners because they didn't communicate their needs and it caused a strain in the relationship. and yea, sometimes even if you do communicate, it will land on deaf ears - of course i understand that, but being with a partner that refuses to listen to what you have to say all the time should tell you that they're a shitty partner anyways.

slip ups do happen. people don't change in a day. sometimes you have to communicate your needs multiple times and that's okay as long as they're really trying to take them into consideration and vice-versa. it can get frustrating, but what's important is that you're getting somewhere when it comes to making changes instead of leaving it all bottled within, waiting to blow as soon as it becomes too much and thus spoiling the relationship as a result.

so yeah........... imo, you just have to talk a lot lol

[himbos-hotline]

OMG WAIT HI I LOVE JAY? TELL ME EVERYTHING? how did they (sorry about pronouns i am going to go with they/them for now PLEASE correct me) get those scars, what is the polycule like, is their full name jaybird or is that a cute lil nickname the polycule gives them, EVERYTHING i love them sm they are precious

I too love Jay so fucking much! they use she/he/they/zey pronouns with no real prefrence over any of them. Some people use she/her for him and theyre cool with it, others he/him, some just stick with they/him or a mix of all of them. Jay looks at gender and shakes a magic eight ball at it and goes "sure cool im that today!"

their name is technically Jayden- however she quickly gets it changed after a gender crisis [thanks for that kenny] Jaybird is technically a nickname that cole gives her when the two of them are a mixed tag team in NXT. Jay has an understanding for animals and being a high-flyer has a love of birds. It used to be 'Jaydenbird' and started as an inside joke. Now Jaybird is just what Cole calls zem whenever shes lovely dovey and not being a completely asshole [/affectionate] to her boyfriend.

Jay has a lot of scars. Most of them just being dumb wrestling accidents. The one under her right eye is from Kenny hitting them with a nerf gun by mistake cuz Jay got to close to him and spooked him. Now nobody is allowed nerf guns in arenas and Jay is SOOOOOO not salty about it. the scar on his chin is from skateboarding and Nick going "I betcha twenty bucks you cant jump from the diving board off ya skateboard" of a hotel pool. Jay does it because sometimes zey have a singular braincell and its busy thinking of hangmans ass. Well, "does it"

she climbs up to the diving board, slips and smacked her face on the back of the diving board. Still dove into the pool though and "do I still get the twenty bucks?" "depends. do you still have your teeth!?" neither one of them mention it to Matt.

Theres two large scars on his forearm because when she was 14 and still under Regals training and wrestling in the british indies, chose to wrap barbed wire around his arm. only for their opponant to pull it and it cut into zeir arm. Jay still thinks she was badass cuz she won!

The last scar is more then likely the most important one since it directly links to Jay meeting kenny and the gender crisis. Jay starts off as part of the JAS and theyre really shitty to him like to the point theyre mocking Jays disability [hes deaf] and tortmenting them in the ring to the point shes loosing matches and then Chris Jericho starts putting them down on commentary, to Regal, to Mox and to the female roster.

and one day, Jay just cannot stand it anymore. Facing Kris Stratlander in a hardcore match. Jay climbs the turnbuckle, stares at Jericho whose ringside, looks at wheeler whose there supporting Kris [and who is also jays boyfriend, they are just instantly in love as soon as they meet- both jay and wheeler are too dumb to realise that thought] and preforms a diving headbut. Only for Kris to move and Jay smack her head off a steel chair and then the outside of the ring rolling out of the ring. Shes concussed and the match ends because theres just blood pissing outta her head.

Cut to jay, alone in the JAS locker room fucked up and bloody. Talking to their rabbit Hemlock, talking about how he wants to give and how he doesnt feel right and how shes so tired and itll be fine if she just zones out for a little [dissocation] and then theres another voice and the weight of a bunny on her lap and "hey hey, talk to me yeah? tell me about your bunny. I bet they like it when they get really good big pets" and someone moving their hand and then theres a guy that hes seen before but cant remember because yay concussion and then

"I dont..I dont know you!"

"Kenny Omega, now you know me!"

"Jayden...Jayden orton.."

"Nice to meet ya Jay"

and then theres an entire crisis, kenny calling hanger pretty, keeps using they/them pronouns for Hemlock and he keeps calling her Jay and "my partner gets like this sometimes, hes really pretty- hey i should introduce you two!"

and then Jay just kinda sits there and loops the name Jay in her head, and they/them pronouns and how men can be pretty and maybe they could be a pretty boy? because everyone sometimes feel uncomfortable about their body right guys? everyone hates their name because it doesnt sound right, right guys?

....guys?

[huggingkoalas]

we don't really have to dance and sing! i taught myself how to dance, but sing is not something i can really do. we learn how to act. singing and dancing for musicals comes after. the teacher gives us roles based on what we do best, it's very inclusive, you don't have to be specifically good in something to participate!! my first performance for the public for example, i was six and it was very shitty. i still laugh when i see the videos. i was the oldest there and was practically leading the other girls — the lights, music, scenario, everything was badly settled, the parents got so mad 😭😭 but those are good memories anyway.

i'm glad you had a great time with your friends! i've never been on a karaoke before, but i assume it's fun, from what i've seen. drink lots of water and be gentle on yourself!!

- ��

i’d love to learn more about the process of being on stage in a theatre someday :’) theatre is so underrated and it’s such a good and different form of acting and entertainment.

i’d probably never participate in a theatre stil though, haha :’) i do wish i had a chance at being a performer(?) in a theatre in another life :)

i can only imagine how surreal performing in front of everyone and being in front of the lights is. it’d feel so... out of this world, y’know?

and awww that’s so cool that you started performing, even in a really young age. you must’ve been absolutely adorable tho, leading everyone and being like a leader <3

good memories are still good memories, even if they may seem silly to other people :3

and yeah, you should totally try it out sometime! it’s pretty fun, especially with friends and family. i’m a really shy singer, i’m like, pretty damn sure i’m tone deaf lmaooo :P but seeing other poeple absolutely belt out to the lyrics is funny and amusing.

and thank you! i’ve just been trying to drink water and hope that i get my voice back... :P

[practically-an-x-man]

🎶 👗🦸‍♀️🌹🎳 😱 🤝🍸🍁 for Robin, Ophelia, and Eris?

Oh wow thank you so much!! <3

Under the cut for space as usual

Describe Your OC or a Character Ask Game

🎶 - How do they sound? Describe their voice

Robin: Somewhat feminine voice, American with a faint Deaf accent (that gets stronger when she's tired, or when she's not using her ability as a makeshift hearing aid)

Ophelia: Blunt and sarcastic, lower female register with a bit of vocal fry, accent is vaguely New York but wouldn't be obvious to a non-American.

Eris: Decidedly androgynous range, with an accent that sounds like it comes vaguely from the Middle East (but nobody can seem to decide where specifically he's from)

👗-Describe their style

Robin: Kinda bounces all over the place. Most of the time, she just wears casual clothing, band t-shirts alongside either jeans or a skirt, but sometimes she'll feel like dressing up a little more. When she dresses up, she prefers feminine styles.

Ophelia: In her lab, really just whatever's comfortable - t-shirts, sweatpants, she's got a lab coat but only remembers to wear it about half the time. Outside her lab, she'll try to dress a little nicer since she's both a semi-known superhero and the face of a large company and doesn't want to be flamed by journalists or paparazzi, but she still doesn't worry too much about that. And of course, she's got an endless stream of long coats that she wears for her hero work

Eris: Doesn't really have a fashion sense, just wears whatever fits and allows full range of motion. This typically results in a mix between loose fabrics in a variety of colors (similar to Middle Eastern or North African clothing), modern cargo/military clothing with a lot of pockets, and whatever he chooses to steal from Rick's closet.

🦸‍♀️ - What would they dress as for Halloween?

Robin: Some kind of fantasy creature like an elf or dryad, complete with antlers and Ren Faire-style makeup

Ophelia: Spider-Man, but an intentionally shitty costume, strictly to take the piss out of Peter.

Eris: Assuming he could even be convinced to dress up for Halloween in the first place... would either spend weeks making a fully-accurate costume of a historical figure nobody else has ever heard of, or would be dragged along in a couple's/group costume with Rick or Harley.

🌹 - Do they have a signature scent? Perfume, shampoo or alike?

Robin: Roses!

Ophelia: Tends to use citrus-scented soaps, but also smells vaguely of machine oil due to all her time in the lab.

Eris: Not really, he tends to pick scents based on whatever the hell she feels like in the moment, but they tend to gravitate towards cloves/musk/earthy scents.

🎳 - Do they have hobbies? If yes, what are they?

Robin: Enjoys arcade games (and gets very competitive, especially when she's playing against Peter), practicing piano, and costume design - sewing, thrifting, etc., she's actually stepped in a few times to help out at the opera house when their usual costumer dropped out.

Ophelia: Engineering and coding is both her job and her hobby, it just depends on what project she's working on at the time. Once she's brought back through the multiverse, she's got a bit more appreciation for day-to-day life and makes a hobby out of trying new, mundane things - like trying as many varieties of apples as she can, thrifting interesting articles of clothing just to experiment, visiting local shops even if she doesn't end up buying anything, etc.

Eris: I'd say his hobby is collecting hobbies. He's tried all kinds of things over the course of their life and has effectively taken every opportunity to learn a new skill even if it'll turn out to be useless. 16th-century weaving techniques? Butchering a cow by hand? A general knowledge of literally hundreds of different weapons? Whittling? Tattooing? You name it, she's tried it. And if she hasn't, she'll learn.

😱 - Their biggest fear

Robin: Her family being put in danger because of her connection to the X-Men. It's bad enough when it's Sean, but he knows what he's gotten into - she'd hate for the rest of her family, non-mutant civilians with no idea about this whole X-Men business, to get hurt.

Ophelia: Death, as a whole. She won't admit it, and probably isn't even 100% aware of it, but she's terrified of dying a second time.

Eris: Losing Rick unexpectedly. They know it's going to happen at some point, but they're still not prepared for it in the slightest.

🤝 - Are they good with people? Are they able to get along with people and communicate effectively with the people around them?

Robin: Oh, very much so. She's an extrovert, not to mention a professional entertainer (an opera singer), so she's very comfortable being around other people. The only snag is when people get weird about her being Deaf, but as a whole it's generally smooth sailing.

Ophelia: Not really. She tends to be very intense, and often keeps a lot of her emotions behind this mask of sharp wit and sarcasm, so people generally find her entertaining to be around but difficult to make a deeper connection with.

Eris: They're very polarizing, actually. Either people hate him outright for his affinity for violence and lack of morals, or they respect him immediately for being so candid about who he is. She's not great at being a team player, let alone following someone else's lead, but she's also had a lot of practice being around other people and is pretty good at managing it.

🍸- Favourite drink?

Robin: Herbal tea - her favorite to taste is a hibiscus fruit blend, but she's also very familiar with Throat Coat tea with echinacea to preserve her voice when she's busy with a show (and I will say, speaking from experience, it does taste nice too)

Ophelia: She's got an affinity for those store-bought protein shakes, less because they taste particularly good and more because they're quick and easy when she accidentally skips a meal while working.

Eris: A good strong bourbon, or mulled wine. The alcohol doesn't do anything because of their healing factor, but the taste is pleasant and a little nostalgic for him.

🍁 - Their favourite season and why?

Robin: Summer. She doesn't mind the heat (she'll spend half her time inside the air-conditioned opera house for rehearsals anyway), it reminds her of summer vacation with her siblings, and it allows her to walk barefoot without as many problems or questions in the way

Ophelia: Those few weeks in between fall and winter - not so cold that hero work is miserable, cool enough that she can wear her long coat and not overheat in a fight, and it's the perfect time for hot drinks and fluffy sweaters and curling up with a good book.

Eris: Also summer, but for a very different reason. They're built for warm climates anyway, they absolutely thrive with a little sun, and it's a documented fact that people get angry when the temperature rises. Crime rates spike, people get irritable, and the uptick in ambient conflict means Eris is often his strongest in the hot summer months.