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sashi-ya · 3 years

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{+18} – Cherry Blossom & Tangerines – Trafalgar Law x Y/n – Part 5

Modern AU. Trip to Jeju Island, SK. No spoilers.

Female reader. No physical descriptions. Everybody is +18, canon ages. Chopper is human.

Tw: NSFW, blindfolding, soft sub/dom, unprotected sex (this is just fiction, pls wear protection). Fluff. A little bit of ZoSan

A/N: I haven’t had the chance to visit South Korea due to Covid, so everything included is pure research. Excuse me in advance if there is something that’s not 100% accurate! Keep in mind is purely inspired ♥

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31059467

Word Count: 4.5 K

» List of parts: {P1} {P2} {P3} {P4} {P5} {P6}«

Chapter 5

“Y/n it's our turn, let’s sing!!” Vivi told me, while pulling me from my arm. “Vivi, wait”, I said. I kept watching how Law was still hugging the girl. “What is it?... Oi!”, Nami said, also witnessing the scene.

“Don’t go, just… wait”, I begged my redhead friend who was ready to kill him. I saw how the mysterious woman and Law laughed together. Zoro didn’t even care, he was more drunk than anything else.

The girl was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks. Law didn’t even look at me. I didn’t know if he was just simply so amused about the girl that he simply forgot about me, or, he was doing this on purpose, knowing that I’ll be watching, maybe to let me know he wasn’t going to commit to me in any way.

“That’s it. I’m leaving”, I stated. Vivi, Robin and Nami insisted on me shouting at Torao, but I couldn’t. I was so hurt, and, besides that, I wasn’t even his girlfriend, so I had no right to reproach anything to him.

The girls came with me, and we drove home. The boys didn’t realize we had left until long after we weren’t at the karaoke bar, when Sanji texted Nami asking what the hell had just happened. “Sanji, you should ask your stupid ass friend Torao, what the hell is he doing with a bitch?, plus, go get your boyfriend too, she is right next to him”, Nami said via audio.

Sanji sent an audio back, “Nami-swan! Zoro is not my boyfriend… wait, you were talking about him, right?, whatever, Torao is still with her, I’m gonna see who the hell is she and kick the hell out of stupid Law for hurting Y/n-chwan”.

I drove as fast as I could, at that point I only wanted to bury myself in bed and cry my eyes out. I was silent all the way. My friends knew there was no point in saying anything else, so they just strung along with me.

We got home, and Robin offered me some tea, yet, I politely turned the offering down and headed almost running to my bed. I covered myself up to my face, and pitiful tears sprouted from my eyes.

I heard my cell phone ring several times, I knew it was probably my friends asking if I was all right. But I didn’t have the strength to even see the screen.

“Why did you choose to hurt me like this, Law?” ... I whispered to myself, unable to understand why I was in that position, why after all the romantic stuff he has done for me he didn’t even care I was there…

I reached my phone and simply turned it off, I was fed up with it ringing. Some minutes, perhaps half an hour passed until I fell asleep, crying.

Suddenly, Nami’s loud screams woke me up. “TORAO, WHAT THE FUCK? WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THIS SLUT HOME?”.

I didn’t hear Law’s voice, but I did hear someone climbing the stairs, quickly, almost running.

The door opened suddenly with a loud sound, like someone kicking on it. I was still in bed, and the bang of the door made me take an upright position instantly.

There he was, the villain of my story with tears on his eyes, hopeless, shaking. “Y/n-ya!!! it’s not what you think, let me explain…” “STOP, what type of lie are you going to spit out from your stupid mouth?, plus, what the hell? I heard Nami saying you brought that girl home. Have you been drinking? Are you drunk? what the fuck?” I shouted at him, also crying.

Suddenly, before Law could say anything else, I saw a brunette, tanned, tall girl, with big eyes that resemble Law’s ones. She looked at me, smiling and peacefully said, “Hello Y/n, my name is Lami. Trafalgar, Lami”.

I opened my eyes, and mouth… “Trafalgar?”.

“That’s right! I’m Law 's sister! Nice to meet you! I’m sorry if you got things wrong!” she said to my stunned me. “Oi, brother, she is so pretty!! Even more than in the pictures!”.

“Oh God…”. I was somehow relieved that Law wasn’t flirting with a girl, yet mortified because not only me, but all my friends had called Law’s sister a slut… a bitch.

“I am… I am really sorry… And, uhm, N-nice to meet you…”, I said, wiping the tears on my eyes. “It’s ok, darling! I’m leaving you alone so you can talk in peace, I’ll be downstairs!”. “O-ok”, I said sniffing.

Law slowly approached to the left side of my bed and sat there, next to me, in silence. I wasn’t capable of saying anything to him, either. I had put up a show, he probably thought I was a toxic girl, jealous or even worse things. I had mistrusted him. It was probably the end of something that hadn’t even started.

Suddenly, Law hurled himself on me, hugged me and nuzzled on my lap. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me, I’m sorry, I really do. Lami lives in Jeju and I wanted her to meet you because she is not traveling to Seoul any sooner, we just decided that we will be meeting at the bar so… so you could get to know her”. He said, still with his head buried onto my legs.

“Law…”, I began to cry again. I petted his hair and told him “I am the one who should be sorry. I- I thought you were a bad guy, a typical man that doesn’t care about the girls. I am sorry…”. I felt horrible.

I could hear downstairs my friends laughing, Sanji and Zoro fighting, Luffy shouting. Luckily everybody would make Lami feel comfortable, after all. Law was still sobbing over my lap.

After several minutes I decided to speak up. “Law, stop, you are not the one who should be crying asking me for forgiveness. You did nothing wrong. I was completely mistaken. I hope you will be able to forgive me someday”, I said, gaining composure in order to make things clear.

He sat back, looked at me with teary eyes and asked, “someday? There is nothing to forgive. I want to be with you, I … L…”

“Oi, you two, stop crying, Lami is leaving”, said Nami leaning on the door frame, smiling at us. As she left, and Law wiped the tears off my cheeks, we stood up from bed. I was still dressed so we headed downstairs right away.

“Sis, let’s go, I don’t quite remember how to get your home from here, so you tell me”, said Law. Lami looked at him with loving eyes, and said, “My big brother is always taking care of me, I missed you doc”. Law’s cheeks became red, and he hid under the white with black spots cap he was wearing.

Lami said goodbye to everybody, except me, “she probably hates me”, I thought.

I was going to wish her a good night, when Lami held my hand and pulled from me. “Let’s go sister-in-law, come with us!”. I followed them into the car unsure if Law wanted me there, because he was still embarrassed as hell.

I let Law’s sister sit on the passenger seat, and I sat on the back seat behind Lami. A few seconds after Law started the car Lami said, “Oi, Y/n! did you know that Law has never ever introduced a girlfriend to the family before?”. I choked a little when I heard her say “girlfriend”, and simply chuckled. Law told her to stop, but Lami continued telling me how “emo” he was when he was an adolescent, making fun of his sibling.

We finally arrived at Lami's house. It was a traditional Jeju stone house, with big windows and a typical korean roof construction. On the entrance was a tall guy wearing a cap with “PENGUIN” written on it, waving at us. Law parked the car next to a black Hyundai Ioniq.

“Oi!! brother-in-law!!! How are you? It’s been a year my dear friend!” the guy at the door told Law. We descended the car, and the guy hugged Law in a way “man” do. Lami introduced me to the man, he was his boyfriend, and they had been living together for a few years, and apparently before dating Lami, Penguin knew Law since they were little.

We went inside, and had coffee while chatting about everything. I didn’t feel uncomfortable at any moment, Lami and Penguin were really warm people.

Law’s sister and I headed to the kitchen. It was a perfect opportunity to ask her about their parents so I thought of the best way to bring up the subject. I didn’t need to, because it was the first thing that Lami mentioned.

“Y/n, I’m sure my cold brother didn’t tell you anything about our parents… right?”, she said. I was helping her putting some mochi onto a plate, so I looked at her and said “Not really… At first I thought Rosinante was his father, but then I realized that his surname was Trafalgar, not Donquixote”.

“That’s right, Rosinante is something like Law’s dad. When my brother was 10 years old, my parents passed away in a car accident. They were both doctors, the best ones of this city. Law looks exactly like my dad when he was younger…”, she stopped for a little, and continued, “We stayed with our grandparents at the moment. After two years, Law became really ill and had to be taken to Seoul for some doctors to cure him. Luckily, Rosinante was a volunteer at the children’s hospital where Law was being treated. After six months of intense treatment, he recovered and forged a friendship with “Corasan” who took care of him… Oh sorry, I meant, Rosinante. Corasan it’s just a nickname Law gave him during… the chemotherapy...”, she concluded.

“Oh… poor baby…I’m sorry for your loss too, Lami” I said, feeling a lump in my throat. “Don’t worry, we are all right now, time has passed”, she said, grabbing my hand softly and smiling. She continued, “but let me tell you something, I’ve never seen Law with that type of twinkle in his eyes in the 24 years I’ve known him. He loves you; I can sense that. Plus, when you left the bar earlier, he became so desperate, he was truly worried about losing you”.

I blushed instantly, yet, I was so happy of hearing how he probably loves me that I giggled. And Lami, too.

From the living room we heard Law calling me, “Bab… Y/n-ya, let’s go home it is pretty late”. “Ah… my sweet loving brother and his ways…”, Lami said with a sarcastic tone, rolling back eyes. We both laughed and headed where the boys were.

“Oi Penguin, do you have a bottle of cold water? I tend to get thirsty when I drive”, Law asked Penguin and looked at me with some sort of look I can only label as… horny?. “Right, bro, let me get you one”, said the cool cap guy and headed to the kitchen. “He gets thirsty?” I said to myself a little confused, but dismissed the thought as my attention went to Lami who was showing me a photo of his brother when he was a little baby.

The happy couple invited us to the lantern festival that was taking place the next night at the historical center of the city. They told us to bring all of our friends too. We were excited about it, so we accepted the invitation and left the house.

During the ride along a road by the sea, Law asked me, “Babe, can you please turn the GPS on?, I don’t really know where I am going…”. I searched for my phone in my pockets, but realized I’ve left it at home. “I didn’t bring my phone… give me yours”, I told him. He grabbed his from the black jeans pocket and gave it to me. “Law, your phone is dead…”, I said, trying to turn it on.

“Yeah, my battery died after calling you twenty times when you left the bar…”, he said, kinda joking. “Oh…”, I gasped, and continued, “Well, let me enter the address on the car sat nav”.

I approached my hand to the little screen when Law stopped my hand and smirked. “It would be a shame if the computer wouldn’t work and we ended up lost…”.

“You clearly had this planned, right?” I said arching a brow. “Me, planning things? that’s not something I usually do…”, he said in a sarcastic way, but with a sexy tone that made me somehow fidget on my seat.

I came closer to his face and almost talking next to his ear I said, “Let’s get lost”. Law licked his lips, placed his right hand over my lap and said “Heh, sure… I can’t resist myself anymore”.

He suddenly turned the wheel and took a little road that took us to the beach. Finally, my lover parked the car, luckily it was a deserted zone, a cliff area, and there weren’t any houses or places nearer.

The beach ahead of us was lightened by an intense moonshine, the sea was choppy so the waves hit hard on the cliffs.

Law threw his seat back and patted his lap, “Strip for me, and come here, baby”. “Ah, so we are fucking on the car, nice…” I thought and began to take my clothes off.

“Don’t take that off, yet. You know that little bandanna you have on your head could help us…”, he said to me after I jumped over his lap. I felt a rock hard bulge under my core, he was already so ablaze for me.

He then untied the cloth that was holding my hair, smirked at me, and said “may I?” while covering my eyes with it.

“Lay you back on the steering wheel, baby girl”, he ordered me. I remember instantly how he likes to dominate me, so I followed his order to a “Yes, sir”.

His fingers ran from my mouth to my neck. He kept lowering them softly caressing my flesh. I could barely feel the touch of his fingers over my skin. He wasn’t talking, and I was unaware of what was coming next, I was blindfolded, but surrendered completely to this man.

All of a sudden I felt a cold sensation over one of my nipples, “Uhg…” I moaned, throwing my head back. Then the chilly stinging feeling moved to my other nipple. God, what is that?... and suddenly remember Law asking Penguin the cold water bottle. “Damn you, Law”, I said to myself but only being able to verbalize moans and grunts.

He began to trail an icy path from my breasts to my lower stomach. My heated skin mixed with the cold water that began to melt over my flesh, felt like a sweet torture.

“Your hot body is making the icy water melt and wet my jeans… or is it perhaps your own arousal for your Master, baby girl?”, he said to me, while running a thumb over my clit.

He then penetrated me with two fingers as he only knew how to, took them off and asked me to open my mouth. “Taste yourself, baby girl”, he commanded me, and I opened my mouth and sucked.

I heard - and felt- how he unzipped his jeans, and slowly took his member out. I could feel how he began to softly hit his manhood over my sex. He was playing with it, but my body couldn’t wait for it to be inside of me.

“Is it getting hot in here, huh?” he said and unbuttoned his black shirt. I knew it because he then grabbed my hands making me caress his skin. My hands wandered along his chest, but my mind was only focusing on how much I wanted to be penetrated by this man.

I was drowning in lust, I needed him to do something, but he didn’t. “Law… Sir… What are you doing?... fuck me, I want you to fuck me…”. He laughed, and violently but gently enough he pinched and twisted one of my erect nipples. A strike of intense pleasure hit my center, and it was so unexpected that I only purred at it.

He then ran his inked fingers through my hair and pulled me closer to his face, this time he wasn’t being gentle, he was being rough… and I loved it. “What do you think you are doing? I am the one who gives you orders in here, are we clear?” he said, whispering with a grunt in my ear.

“Y-yes sir, I- am sorry…”, I said, stuttering. “Good”, he said and kissed me. We made out, hard, feverishly. I could feel over my entrance how his sex became even harder.

He suddenly put his hands on each side of my waist and lifted me up a little bit, so I could place my knees on each side of the seat. He used his right hand to guide his pennis inside of me. It was just the tip of it, he was enjoying how I was probably miming the words “fuck me” repeatedly. After a few seconds of torture, he grabbing me again from my waist, pushed me down against his lap. “Ugh..” I said, opening my mouth, throwing my back to the steering wheel, so hard that I made the car horn sound.

I wanted to be penetrated, and he did it so roughly, yet so pleasantly.

I began to ride him, back, forward, up, down, tracing circles with my pelvis. My left knee hit the emergency brake handle, it hurt but I didn’t care. I placed my hands over his strong abs, letting all of my senses focus on the pleasure, imagining the expression he had on his face when I heard him groan.

Law pulled my hair and threw my neck back, again making me hit my back on the wheel, and used his hips to bang me, hard, burying himself into me. Every thrust made my body react with little spams; I was being sent to heaven.

Law untied the bandanna that was covering my eyes, and said in between the thrusts and an agitated voice, “I want to see your precious face when I make you cum”. My eyes slowly returned to its functions, admiring the sweaty thorax of Law, the way his stomach would go up and down picturing his rapid breathing. His face showed a red glowing, he was more than aroused. I was too, and as I reached for climax, placing my right hand over the steamy glass of the car window, Law did too with a hard “Huh”.

He bathed my insides once again. I remained still enjoying the warming sensation inside of me, trying to erase any worry at the time.

Law placed a hand on my back and pulled me closer to his chest, while lying his neck over the headrest of the yellow Sonata.

I rested my whole tired body over his, enjoying the touch of our warm skins, the scent of his body, with my lips wandering along his neck, leaving soft kisses over its skin.

“We should go back home; they might get a little bit concerned…” I told Law, still over him. “Yeah, you are right, let’s go back…”.

It was 4 am so once we got home and opened the door, we entered stealthily. I walked behind Law when he suddenly stopped, and I fell over him. “What is it, Law?!” I whispered, “I don’t know, this is kind of a slumber party…”, he whispered back at me.

Suddenly all the lights turned on. Everybody was sleeping on bare mattresses on the floor of the living room.

Little by little our friends but Zoro and Sanji woke up.

“Oh my god, finally…” said Nami and everyone began to laugh. They weren’t laughing at us, but at Sanji and Zoro who were sleeping cuddled.

Law looked at them and looked at everybody else and said, “Excuse me, is this something new to you? Oi Mugiwara-ya, tell them every time you three get to sleep at home they do the same”. Luffy nodded, still laughing.

No matter how much noise they made, nor Zoro or Sanji woke up, they seemed to be happily enjoying sleeping like this, so we didn’t want to bother them anymore.

“Let’s go back to sleep, guys. Y/n and Law you can sleep upstairs, we left Law’s bed intact”, said Franky winking at us. “Thank you!!” I said, and we went upstairs jumping through the multiple legs of our friends.

We climbed up the stairs, and went into the boy’s room. I was undressing when suddenly Law offered me a big loose t-shirt. “Don’t get me wrong I love your naked body, but what if the boys enter the room and see you naked?”, he said. “Oh, Law, are you jealous? hahaha”, I mocked him. “Well, let's not discuss jealousy…”, he said frowning.

I grabbed his white loose t-shirt with some kind of black power ranger called “Stealth Black” printed on it and put it on, giggling. I could have sworn he was a geeky nerd, and that was the proof.

Law and I jumped into his bed and muffled up with the bedding. He hugged me, kissing my head. “Thank you for making this the best holiday of my whole life…”, he said. “Thank you for paying the bus ticket that time…”, I whispered with my face pressed up against his chest. We both laughed and soon after fell asleep.

I woke up with the sounds of some birds chirping on the window. Law was still asleep beside me, with his ruffled hair, his cheek pressed against the pillow with his mouth open, snoring softly. I couldn’t help but drool over that image, so handsome even like that, the intimacy, the person I wanted to wake up to each morning.

I placed my head over the tattoos of his chest, following with my index finger the lines of ink on his skin. I remained there for a few minutes hearing his heartbeat, drunk of his skin scent.

Softly he began caressing my cheek, still without opening his eyes. He was probably half asleep yet.

I felt a million butterflies trapped on my stomach, I was so in love, I had fallen for this guy, hard. I felt a little guilty, I mean, how was I supposed to fall in love so quickly with a man?... I guess it was just love at first sight…

Law’s hand stopped moving, and suddenly I heard him mumble something like, “Mmmm- hum - I-I- love you Y/n-ya”. I widened my eyes, “did he just say he loves me? “I was completely surprised and even unsure if that was what he said or if it was just my imagination.

Some minutes later, he opened his eyes, slowly. “Good morning, baby girl”, he said, kissing my forehead. I was immobile, watching his face still trying to process what he had just said. “What is it?, are you sleeping with your eyes open? you are gorgeous but that would be a little creepy”, he said, surprised.

“N-No, uhm, I am awake, yes. Good morning”, I uttered. “Are you ok, Y/n-ya?”, he asked with a confused expression. “Yeah, uhm… Law… Do you sleep talk?”, I inquired him. “Oh… did I? I’m sorry... I do, yes. Sometimes. What did I say?”, he said this time with a worried expression. “Oh, no, nothing, I thought I heard something but I don’t know. It’s nothing”, I said, trying to settle the matter.

We remained cuddling up a little bit more, until we heard movements downstairs. They were probably waking up, so I decided to go to my room and get ready for the day.

“New pajamas”, I thought while taking off Law’s shirt. I folded and put it on my suitcase, I wasn’t willing to give it back to him.

I went ahead and showered. I let the warm water bathe my skin while thinking about Law saying “I love you” while he was asleep. Was he really? Did he really feel that or was it just a dream?... I guess I should wait…

After the bath, which clearly made me more anxious than relaxed, I went downstairs to the kitchen where Sanji was already preparing breakfast. I decided to help him with setting the table while chatting about the lantern festival of that night. Nami, Vivi and Robin joined us and were pleased that Lami and Penguin invited us to such a pretty event.

Our last day in Jeju passed with us visiting the Samseonghyeol Shrine, which is the oldest historic site in Korea. That place is considered as the birthplace of three demigods of the island, founders of the Tanma Kingdom that governed Jeju Island before the Joseon dynasty took over.

At noon we came back from the city and began to get ready for the festival that night. I received a message from Lami, “@TraffLami.06 > hello Sis! How is the day going? Is my brother treating you right?. Listen, we usually wear “hanbok” to the festival. If you want to too, you can rent them from a friend's shop. I send the location. See you tonight! ♥”. I got super excited for it, I loved cultural clothing and I wanted to see Law wearing those clothes too. I told my friends and we all agreed on renting one. Law, being the warm boy he was, wasn't so sure about it, but with a little kiss and a little begging I could convince him.

The night came and we all drove to the historical centre of Jeju. The place was all garnished with paper lanterns, string lights hanging from some bridges, lit inflatable displays, food courts, typical music being played that mixed with the buzz of hundreds of attendants that were enjoying the night.

I was wearing a hanbok in yellow and orange tones, while Law used a green and black one. He looked like a typical groom; I couldn’t help but fantasize a little about us getting married someday.

Luffy of course ran to the food stalls followed by everybody else, Zoro went ahead and attacked the stall where they were offering some kind of soju and Law and I waited for his sister and Penguin to arrive at where we were.

Law was more silent than usual and his face showed concerned. I thought at first about him missing his parents or family, maybe the festival triggered some memories, so I held his hand without saying anything. He squeezed my hand, and began to sweat.

“Are you ok, doc?”, I asked. He looked at me, I could sense he got really nervous and finally mumbled, “Y/n-ya we need to talk…” …

Part 6, FINAL

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agentcherricola · 3 years

Note

“Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.” w funpoison 👉👈 ?

i didn’t use the phrase exactly but the sentiment is there l m a o (also this one got a little long)

only warnings on this one is some nsfw mentions at the end! and it’s the last one currently in my inbox, but i’ll still take requests here! :^)

Poison propped their chin up on the diner counter. They frowned, sweeping their eyes across the mostly empty main room. They took one last look under the counter before standing up fully, hands on their hips.

“Jet!”

“What?” came the reply from outside.

“Where’s all the art supplies?”

“The what?”

“All the- fuck.” With a sigh Poison made their way out the front door and around the corner.

Jet sat behind Kobra in front of his bike, holding a screwdriver while Kobra tinkered around the engine. They both looked over at Poison when they stepped under the garage awning.

“Either of you seen all the art supplies? The paints, the brushes, even that big roll of butcher paper is missing!”

Jet and Kobra exchanged a look. “Uh, what art supplies?” “Haven’t seen it!” They said at the same time.

Poison raised an eyebrow. They shifted their weight onto one hip, crossing their arms in front of their chest.

“Alright, piggies. Squeal. Where is it? And come to think of it, where’s Ghoul? Haven’t seen him since before I went to sleep for the afternoon.” They did their best older sibling glare at Kobra, then Jet.

“Dunno.” “Supply run!” they answered again. Kobra elbowed Jet, who elbowed him right back.

Poison sighed. “Forget I asked.” Without waiting for them to finish sparring, they turned on their heel and marched back to their room.

They picked up their handheld radio, already dialed in to Ghoul’s frequency.

“Ghoulie?” It was a minute before the static-y reply came through.

“Pois’! Hey, what is it?”

“Where are you? I can’t find any of the art stuff, and the boys are bein’ dodgy and weird.”

“Oh, sorry, baby, Cherri and Pony asked me for help with something while you were sleeping. I know you’ve been runnin’ yourself so ragged lately, I couldn’t find it in my heart to wake you up. But I should be done around sundown!”

“That still doesn’t answer what happened to-“

“Ah, I gotta go! I love you!” The line went dead with a click.

Poison narrowed their eyes at the radio. They quickly tuned it to Cherri’s frequency. He picked up much faster.

“Poison, uh, what can I-”

“Is Ghoul at the station with you?” they interrupted. Silence for a moment.

“Um. No…” Ghoul’s voice could easily be heard in the background, followed by Pony’s.

“Uh huh. Kobra really needs to teach you to be a better liar.” They didn’t wait for a response after that. Instead, Poison grabbed their leather jacket off the floor, tucked the Trans-Am keys into their pocket, and headed for the door. They breezed past Jet and Kobra and went straight for the car.

“Oh! Uh, where are you going?” Jet called.

Poison closed the door behind them and started the car’s engine. They rolled down the front window.

“You’re all bein’ too fuckin’ suspicious, I’m goin’ to the station to get some answers.”

Kobra jolted upright. “Wait, uh, we were gonna go, too, in like a few hours, if you want we could all go together!”

Poison just shook their head and rolled the window back up. Before Jet and Kobra could protest any further, Poison shifted the car into drive and peeled away.

The station van was parked outside when they arrived. Poison didn’t waste any time parking the Am and stepping out. They pushed past the swinging wooden board that served as a door and paced down the main hallway. No one could be seen in the front few rooms, and Poison couldn’t hear anyone except Doc’s broadcast. But as they made it towards the lounge, the one room with a door, they heard some hushed voices behind it. They didn’t bother knocking, they just turned the handle and swung the door open.

“Alright, where is- oh.”

Ghoul snapped his head up. He was crouched in front of a half-painted banner on the floor, with “Happy Birthday Poison” written out in red paint. Cherri and Pony turned to look, too, taping some construction paper hearts and stars around the room. Ghoul was the first to break the silence.

“Uh...surprise?” he said. He stood, trying to wipe paint off his hands and succeeding in smearing it down his pant leg.

“Oh,” was Poison’s only response. They stood, gaping, in the doorway.

Ghoul bit back a smile, crossing the room to them. “Was kinda hopin’ you’d stay asleep a little longer, or at least that Jet and Kobra were better at distractin’ you.” He stood on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to a still surprised Poison’s jaw. “But, in any case, uh, happy birthday, baby!”

Poison looked between the three of them with a slowly spreading smile. They wrapped an arm around Ghoul’s shoulders and pulled him in tight.

“Ghoulie...thank you. Honestly, I didn’t even remember it was my birthday today,” they admitted with a laugh.

Ghoul snuggled in closer, and Cherri and Pony crossed the room to each give Poison a kiss on the cheek.

“I know, so that’s why we all kinda wanted to do somethin’ nice. But it was my idea, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Ghoul said.

Poison just laughed again and kissed Ghoul properly.

“Thank you guys, really,” they said.

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart,” Pony said. She took Cherri by the elbow. “Me an’ Cherri are gonna go radio the others and tell ‘em the jig is up.” Xe gently dragged him out of the room and closed the door behind them.

Poison felt Ghoul’s hands trailing down their back before tucking into their back pockets. They brought their other arm around Ghoul’s shoulders. With a grin, they met in the middle for a kiss.

“I’m savin’ your present for after the party,” Ghoul said, giving Poison’s ass a little squeeze. He trailed his lips down their neck, chasing every other kiss with a little bite.

“Oh, what is it? I’m on the edge of my seat...” Poison teased, letting their head tip back.

“Sex. It’s sex. I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”

Poison practically purred in Ghoul’s ear. “Mmm, happy birthday to me indeed.”

#ghostxraven #killjoys blogging #funpoison #party poison #fun ghoul #kobra kid #jet star #cherri cola #show pony #ty ty ty!!!!! i love funpoison

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salavarte · 3 years

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Yowza, been awhile, tumblr! I’m using this opportunity to make a small announcement about where my projects are headed this year, specifically two of them, Greenbrier and MOONDANCE. I’m going to put it under a readmore in case anyone just wants to enjoy the Muse-Goddess of Healthy Productivity on her own.

People have probably noticed a drop off in how much art I produce in the last few months. Fact is I’ve been struggling a lot with how I feel about my own art. Not the technical aspects like the quality of inks/composition/etc, but the content. For pretty much my entire artistic life, I’ve cycled through the concept phases of projects without actually bringing in of them to term, and at this point I’ve grown very restless and tired of working in the realm of theory. I need to actually complete a story. This is made all the more difficult by the injury to my arm - docs say tendonitis, I guess I should believe them for now. Regardless of what it is, my dominant arm has been in daily pain and discomfort for over a year, which has made it very physically difficult to make art, compounded by my feelings of being unsatisfied with what I do manage to put out.

I thought the solution to this was to turn my focus to something completely new, go back to my “roots” and make a sci-fi story, but have found that the more I tinker with it, the more I realize I have to do and the more easily I become overwhelmed. It’s a hazard of the genre. I quickly realized that I had to thoughtfully construct everything from props and clothing to vehicles and weapons, for two distinct civilizations. All of which requires drafting time that I don’t think I can manage at the moment - not to mention figuring out the logistics of characters with transformative aspects of their designs. This is not an announcement that I’m canning the project. I’ve just accepted that it’s not something I can physically accomplish right now, and that I need to take a different approach to exploring the setting in a way that makes me feel fulfilled. My arm needs more time to heal, and the setting needs more time for me to get to know it. Right now it feels like a stew I keep adding “seasonings” to - by which I mean genres, scifi, fantasy, western, romance etc- but am still unhappy with the general “flavor”. While I’m pushing it to the backburner as a comic, I want to see how all of the characters interact with each other and their world in practice, not in theory. I want to know these characters better, and figure out what they need from me. This is kind of the blanket direction I want to move in for everything - I want to stop designing as much, and start making smaller, panel-sized illustrations of characters interacting with each other and their environments. Maybe short, sequential illustrations. Last years’ Artfight made me realize that this is achievable.

But, I still want to start a webcomic this year. It’s really important to me that I start something I can feasibly finish. So after a lot of introspection, I’ve decided to tackle something that’s physically easier for me to draw, already has a strong worldbuilding foundation that I’ve been working on for a couple of years, and that can be a shorter story with a much smaller cast of characters (you haven’t gotten to see most of them, but the MOONDANCE cast is enormous). It’ll probably excite some of you l to learn that I’ve decided to set this story in the world of Greenbrier, aka, that thing about rabbits, and that I’ll be incorporating several pre-existing characters into it (like Rumenthlay).

During this time I’ll also be exploring this setting with one-off illustrations while I’m working on the script for the first story. Really, the next few months are going to be an experimental period, and if you’re willing and able, I’d love to get a little more feedback on the art I make for GREENBRIER and MOONDANCE. What do you like about it, what do you want to see more of, what parts of the setting do you want to see explored, etc. Just keep it classy. Thank you for everyone’s patience, and I hope I make some fun stuff this year that we all, myself included, enjoy.

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the-voltage-diaries · 4 years

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Pulcherrima Rosa Me - Taki Kozaki

‘Pulcherrima rosa me’: Latin for ‘My beautiful rose’.

Disclaimer: Office AU, Hanahaki AU. Now, since it’s Hanahaki, of course it will be angsty. So, time to fasten those seat belts and sit tight.

Word Count: 2225

Author’s note: My first open-ended fic, lmao. Originally was supposed to have smut, but things changed here and there, so you see.

P.S.: Special thanks to @akaiiro-yume for being my proofreader and amazing fangirl buddy

14 years.

That’s how long they had known each other.

To be precise, that’s the number of years they had been the closest of friends.

Never more, never less.

Just two individuals who over time had, step by step, closed in on the gap separating them, narrowing it so much that barely any space remained. They became so used to being around each other that the thought of sharing the tales of their daily life, no matter how embarrassing, bitching and moaning about work and clients, laughing together without bothering to care about how weird they looked seemed like the definition of normal. But that’s the thing ; no matter how closely their paths collided, an invisible line always kept their journeys divided. Most people called that line “friendship”. Taki and (Y/N) had never been anything more than friends.

They never knew how to be anything BUT friends.

So then why was she the only person on Taki’s mind while his eyes shut to bear the pain of throwing up while he hunched over the sink, coughing up a handful of what looked redder than blood, albeit was anything but?

“I want this done by the morning,” Taki told the finance head, handing him the proposal for the project they were planning to bid for. “And when I say morning, I mean I’d like to see it on my table by the time I walk in. Is that alright?”

“Yes, sir,” the man responded, picking up the papers and giving him a quick bow before making his way out, muttering a quiet ‘good night,’ to which the CEO gave him a nod of his own.

Taki then turned in his chair and peeked through the thick glass wall of his cabin in search of his secretary. Once his eyes landed on the familiar raven up-do, his lips, though very quietly and only for a moment, lined up in a hint of a small smile.

There she sat on her table, her eyes focused on her laptop screen while her fingers typed away at the keyboard, not noticing the gaze a pair of dark brown eyes fixated on her.

Instead of calling her immediately to discuss the day’s schedule with her, Taki took a moment to admire the woman who had been at his side for the last two years, professionally speaking. For, beyond the walls of the office, he had known her for more than half of his life.

His eyes made their way across her form; slowly drinking in the way she every so often took a moment to stretch her back, roll her shoulders and her neck before getting back to the task at hand, how one of her delicate fingers came up to push a strand of hair behind the perfect curve of her ear, how she bit her lip in concentration every time she worked against time. God, was she beautifu-

The clang of a pen rolling across the table and falling to the floor startled him back to reality, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes at his carelessness before bending down to pick up the pen.

“(Y/N)!” He called, turning back to his laptop and opening up his schedule. He heard the familiar click-clack of her heels and soon enough, the door opened with a low creak. Taki didn’t even need to look up from the screen to know she was here. “Do we have anything else on the agenda for the day?”

“Yes, actually.”

‘We do?’ Taki thought to himself, his eyes giving his schedule a once-over. He didn’t see anything else on it that needed to be done today, so what was (Y/N) talking abo-

“You have a meeting with the board at 9 AM, then a site visit scheduled at 10 AM, a business call with the head of the Ichinomiya Group at 12 PM regarding the construction of their new hotel in Auckland, another site visit for at a different location at 1 PM, and th-”

“Wait a second, why don’t I see all of this anywhere on my schedule?”

“Because you’re viewing the schedule for 3rd November.”

“Yes, and as far as I remember, today IS 3rd November.”

“No, sir,” (Y/N) said, and it was then that Taki looked up to see the smirk on her face, “I’m pretty sure it’s the 4th today.”

He took a quick glance at his watch and saw that the smaller of the two hands had passed the 12 o’ clock mark, and it was, in fact, 12:30 AM. Which meant that it was, in fact, 4th November.

It also meant that they had worked beyond the designated office hours for the fourth straight day in a row.

“I’m sorry for making you work over time again,” Taki muttered, pursing his lips.

“Nah, that’s okay,” (Y/N) shrugged, sending him a playful wink, “Apart from that cute little pout, you’re paying me for it. Rather handsomely, too, so I’m chill.”

“Firstly, I’m NOT pouting,” Taki muttered, rolling his eyes when he heard his secretary whisper the word ‘denial’, “And secondly, Ms. (L/N), is that how you’ll be talking to your boss now?” He smirked. He would be straight up lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this amused change in the atmosphere. In fact, he welcomed it after the long day he’d had.

“Mr. Boss,” she immediately responded, stretching out the word ‘boss’, to which Taki couldn’t help but scoff, “The office hours are over. I’m under no obligation to kiss your ass anymore.”

And oh, he tried.

He tried so hard to stop that laugh from escaping when (Y/N) made a kissy face at him, but alas, he lost and let it erupt with a low rumble from deep within his chest when she lifted two tiny finger hearts to go along with the flying kisses.

And you know what they say, laughter is contagious. Soon enough, (Y/N) too joined Taki in his wonderland of chuckles, and it wasn’t long before they both laughed so much that their stomachs hurt because each time they’d try to stop, all it’d take is one glance at each other’s faces to lose their shit again.

“Pfft,” (Y/N) scoffed, trying to come down from the rush of euphoria she’d just had, “You should be thanking your lucky stars for having the privilege to get as fun a secretary as me. You have NO idea how lucky you are, I tell you.”

‘I agree,’ Taki thought as he took a moment to calm down, letting a rush of air fill his lungs as he took a deep breath in. He relaxed into his chair and glanced back at the magnificent woman standing before him, truly thankful to have her close by. But as soon as he adoringly grabbed on to the memory of the laugh they’d just shared, another sensation latched on to him, stopping him from thinking any deeper by dragging his attention to the ache building up deep within his chest.

Taki paused, shifting uncomfortably at the unfamiliar sensation. All remnants of humor left him at the way something seemingly gripped at the base of his lungs, squeezing hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, and his discomfort only grew with each passing second as a painful cough arose in his throat, blocking off any passage for air.

“Argh,” he groaned, his fingers pressing at the space between his collarbones, trying to massage the area into creating some sort of a path through the dark fog building up in his throat, so unforgiving that he almost saw black for a moment.

“Taki?” (Y/N) called his name, all her remaining laughter immediately dying down the moment her gaze washed over him. “A-are you okay?”

And just like that, as quickly had the discomfort come, it died down.

It vanished into a thin breeze, leaving Taki gasping for some much needed mouthfuls of air.

“Y-yeah,” Taki responded, still in a daze. He had no idea what just happened, and it seemed so surreal that he almost brushed it off as a hallucination, but the concern in (Y/N)’s eyes told him whatever transpired wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He took a moment to compose himself, before following up with a much more self-assured “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“But I feel fine.”

“... Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you like, sure sure?”

“No, actually.” He looked up at her, an amused grin floating on his face. “I’m not sure sure that I’m fine.”

“See? I KNEW you weren’t okay. Should I call for a doc-”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he interrupted, stopping her halfway on her mini-panic spree, “I’m sure-sure sure I’m fine.”

“… You’re a jerk, you know that?” (Y/N) huffed, sending a scowl in Taki’s direction. “One of these days I’m gonna stab you with- with…” her eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for an appropriate object to finish her statement with while Taki tried to control his smirk from spreading any wider, “… with a sticky note.”

“A what?”

… well, it was too late to go back on words. So, grumbling under her breath, (Y/N) repeated, “With a… sticky note.”

“Pfft.”

“Mr. Kozaki.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at the man, giving him her least scary glare, “did you just ‘pfft’ me?”

“Yes,” he replied confidently, placing his forearms on the table top, “Yes I did.”

“Watch your back. I really will throw the sticky note at this rate.” (Y/N) turned around, her fingers grasping the doorknob, “… and soon.”

Taki watched her step out of his cabin, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Gee, I’m so scared,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before shaking his head at their childishness and turning back to the work at hand.

But even as his eyes swam across the screen, processing the words and formulating appropriate responses, the back of his mind couldn’t let go of the strange inquisitiveness that poked at it, seeking answers to just one question.

What was that fleeting, deadly little coughing fit all about?

He got so focused on his work that he didn’t notice the diligent finance head step into his cabin again only 30 minutes later, quietly keeping the finished proposal on the glass table before walking out just as quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration. He didn’t notice the same guy stopping by (Y/N)’s table, offering her a steaming mug of coffee and giving her the gentlest of smiles while offering to help if needed. He didn’t notice any of it until he heard the pleasant sound of her laugh, passing through the gaps in the glass walls before bouncing off of them on the inside, creating the most melodious of echos.

His eyes left the screen for a quick second to focus on the scene outside, and what he saw made a strange anxiety rise up within him like tiniest of dew vaporizing and stretching its fingers to reaching out to the sky - slowly rising up from the depths of his stomach, travelling up to his chest and finally solidifying just beneath his lips.

Right in front of him stood (Y/N), her fingers clutching an arm that didn’t belong to Taki, her lips turning up into the brightest of curves, shining so bright one would almost go blind, as she laughed along with the damned finance head about something or the other.

And that’s when Taki felt like the (Y/N) who had been standing just within an arm’s reach this whole time was about to slip away from his very fingers, and the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it pricked at him, rendering him in a state of confused speechlessness.

‘Wait. Shouldn’t I feel happy for her, considering she’s finally seeing a guy?’ he thought, taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah. It’s a good thing. But then… what is this insecurity I’m feeling right now?’

The answer to that question seemed only a heartbeat away, and the moment he reached out to grasp it, his body jerked backwards, falling onto his chair while his breathing quickened. The somewhat familiar feeling of his throat being clawed at came back to him - much stronger this time. It all happened quick; his brow furrowed into a deeper crease as moisture pricked at the back of his eyes, his world going back for a moment. Taki’s mouth leaped to suck in a croaked breath - which sounded more like a painful gasp at this point - while his fingers gripped at the collar of his shirt, looking for any way to free him of the sudden pain growling in his chest. He felt a powerful cough coming, preceded by short, painful ones.

“Ah,” he let out a breathy moan, the tears finally making their way to the front of his eyes, followed by a few more. With him standing on the thin line separating sanity from delirium, his body lurched forward, finally finding solace in the way his throat forced out tiny balls of red while the moisture building behind his eyelids finally broke apart to slide down his cheek in one, straight line. The second his gullet felt free again, his body shook with need as he gulped in mouthfuls of air.

Once the dark haze clouding his mind finally started to part, he turned his eyes to look at the red chunk his trachea had shoved out. His eyes widened when his fingertips came in contact with the soft, silky skin of the petals - redder than the darkest of rubies.

The petals of the one flower which finally made him piece together his feelings for the woman standing beyond the see-through walls of his cabin.

… Remember how he wanted to know what his coughing fit was all about?

A rose.

Well… guess it’s about time he found out.

#my little crumbcake~#Taki Kozaki #Kings of Paradise #KoP #Voltage Inc #Otome Romance #Love 365 #Love 365: Find Your Story #Kings of Paradise Taki #KoP taki #Kings of paradise fanfic #kop fanfic #taki kozaki fanfic

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notagamersdey · 3 years

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Freebird

By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: M

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: Violence, insinuations of sexual assault, drug use/mention, murder, character death, bad language

Summary: Local superhero, Lady Griffin, attempts to save a group of hostages during a bank robbery.

~~~

“This is Veronica reporting live at the intersection of Flour and Junction where the domestic terrorist group ‘The Red Hests’ has taken Grand Central High Bank.” The news reporter presses her left index finger into her ear, “They are currently holding over 50 hostages of both visiting customers and employees. No one knows their demands yet, but people speculat - Wait. I’m getting reports that Lady Griffin is passing Grand Central High this moment-”

PHEWWWW!

The news reporter ducks, her hair flying to the left as Lady Griffin speeds by from above, “and there she is! WOW! Look at her go!” The news reporter turns back towards the camera, her hair sticking out in odd angles, “Well, she will no doubt take care of those criminals. Back to you, Jorge.”

Lady Griffin, with light brown wings between her shoulder blades, swoops above the bank building, landing onto the ledge. She jogs up to the rooftop door, pulling at her new uniform which was a bit tight.

“Grif’, stop messing with it, it’ll loosen up,” a voice, Ezra, told her through an earpiece.

“Did you have to get it super tight? I thought we weren’t doing the whole sexy thing,” her bright auburn hair falls against her shoulders as she skids to a stop, yanking the door off its hinges. She cringes slightly, placing it lightly against the wall, “remind me to come fix this later.”

There’s typing on the other end of the call, “Will do. And it’s not about your sex appeal, it's about being pragmatic. It’s light material, and the closer it is to your body, the less wind resistance you have. Don’t you have a college education?” Ezra teases.

Lady Griffin scoffs, “Yeah, in biology, not in astrophysics, or whatever you’re proficient in.” She goes through the door, peering over the staircase. It's a square spiral staircase going on round and round 8 times. The building was 8 stories, the first few filled with cubicles and offices, the rest were holding centers for money, computers, or basically anything else a bank would need to secure its finances. “Alright, Ez’, what are we looking at here?”

More typing, “You’ve got about 6 to 8 armed men on floors 1 to 7, the floor below you is currently under construction. The men rounding up every employee and customer to the middle of the floors. Elevators are down, and you’ve got one man at each stairway entrance.”

Lady Griffin grabs the railings to the staircase, “Any suggestions?”

“Eh. I say start with the bottom floor, you can prevent a shootout with the police, and they wouldn’t be able to get away.”

“Smart move.” She takes a slow deep breath and nose dives to the bottom floor. She moves quickly, expanding her wings to slow her fall. She lightly drops down in front of the door, looking through the tiny glass window. She notices one guy off to the left of the door. Another at the wall farthest from her. They both wore suits, pointing rifles to the ground.

“Hey, Ez’, what kind of rifles?”

“They are...” He pauses. She hears a chair roll away along with the rustling of papers, “PP-19 Vityaz’s. 9mm chamber, stamped steel, carries 30 round magazines. Both semi and automatic, typically used by Russian Special Forces, designed for covert-op. Usually equipped with a suppressor. I guess it makes sense. Cheap ammo, lighter than 5.45 plus a suppressor on this one is much more effective than-”

“Ezra, focus, you’re my eyes. Let me know if they call for reinforcements, I don’t want any surprises.” Lady Griffin, rolling her shoulders back, jumping a few times. Her wings ruffle and shake. She bends down, pulling her ankles up, stretching.

When she stands back up, she takes in air, focusing on her surroundings. She hears the men rounding up hostages the floors above her, she can hear the man breathing from the other side of the door. Heartbeats. Everywhere. She lets her breath out and breaks down the door. The door flies a few feet away, crashing onto the marble floor. The man next to the doorway is the first to react, bringing his rifle up to shoot at Lady Griffin, but she was too quick. She throws a front thrust at the man, sending him flying. The guy that was across the door shoots. Lady Griffin sprints towards him, ducking under the stream of bullets. She blitzes him, thrusting her wings out and back, creating a gust of wind to propel her at the assailant. She punches through his chest, sending him flying to the wall.

“Back up!” She turns to her left to see two more guys running at her. Both trained their guns at her, one holding a radio. Everything slows down again; she sees the sweat drip down both their brows, sees the horrendous, angry teeth from the one talking into the radio. She sees the slightest quiver of the gun. He’s weak. He’s not holding the gun right. “We need back up-” She swiftly rushes her wings forward, sending a powerful force of wind at the two. The guy holding the radio falls; however, his partner holds himself up against the impact.

“If you don’t stop now, I will put a bullet between those pretty green eyes, girl. Just accept it. Just take it,” he adjusts himself.

Ezra’s voice crackles against her ear, “Be careful, darling, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” Lady Griffin suddenly feels dazed. She shakes her head, trying to focus. She slightly relaxes her stance, wings back in their resting position. She places her hand behind her back, smirking at the man in front of her.

“You think you’re special? Just cause the Doc treats you well? You’re nothing, girl, only a mere spec within an indifferent universe.” He gives her a vile grin.

She bursts out laughing, hunching forward, her hand away from her back with a long piece of piano wire, “You think you’re so cool quoting Doctor Strange? You know the bad guys, like, disintegrate in the end, right?” She stands up straight, beginning to wrap the piano wire between her fists, leaving enough room for a head to fit between them, “No matter, I’m not going to go that easy on you.” She gives a wide grin and launches herself.

Meanwhile, up on the seventh floor of the bank, the leader of the Red Hests sits on an office chair, watching his associates continue to round up everyone on the floor. He smirks to himself with a lollipop sticking out of his mouth as he hears one of the women scream in fear.

“Shut up!” One of the men points the barrel at the woman’s face, “Shut up or I’ll hurt you. I’ll really fucking hurt you.”

The leader gets up off the chair, pulling out the lollipop as he walks towards the group. The men have surrounded the employees, all women, in the middle of the room. They sit on their knees, hands zip-tied to their back as the men stick thick duct tape onto their mouths, “Now, now, take it easy. You hurt them; they lose value. But then again...” He kneels in front of the woman who screamed, bringing the lollipop back between his lips, swirling his tongue thoughtfully, “This one doesn’t seem to be that valuable.” He extends his hand out, gesturing blindly behind him. The man closest to him takes out a large bowie knife from behind his back, handing it back to the leader. The women all yelp behind their tape at the sight of the knife, scurrying tightly together. The leader brings the knife up to the woman in front of him, placing the tip onto the tape, pushing forward slightly. The woman just weeps silently, trying her best to keep still.

As he begins to push the knife with vigor, the radio crackles, “Sir, Floor One, we need back up-” Static.

The leader stands up, swiftly grabbing the radio as he takes the lollipop out of his mouth, “Floor One? Come in Floor One.”

Another henchman picks up, “Floor Two Sir! She’s here at Floor-” Static.

The leader looks up at the rest of the men incredulously, “Strap them. We don’t have time.” The men move at tremendous speed, pulling out briefcases and attaching them to each woman’s chest. They all open each brief case at a time, revealing a timer connected to two blocks of C4.

The leader moves off to the side, attempting to warn the other floors, “get away from the doors! Be prepared for that wretched wench! She will come through the staircase, forget the hostages! Focus on the girl!”

“Sir! She’s got-” The sound of a window crashing bleeds through the radio, followed by gunshots and screaming.

“That was Floor Five!” The leader announces, “be ready before we hear from Floor Six!”

Lady Griffin finishes off Floor Six by throwing the last guy out the window. The women behind her gasp lightly. She smiles, turning around as she wipes her forehead sweat with the back of her hand, “Don’t worry, you guys are safe now.” She starts to cut the zip ties, “Do you all know if the leader is on the next floor?”

The women remain quiet until a little girl, with long black hair, and bangs raises her hand, “Yes, he’s there.” Lady Griffin looks up at her, then to the rest of the women. The rest of the women had either blonde or light brown hair, and none of the women resembled the girl in any way. She looked around. Floor Six was one of those floors with offices and cubicles; it was not the type for clients or customers to be wandering around in, let alone with a child.

“Hey, sweetie, is your mom around?” She kneels in front of the girl, holding onto her hands softly.

The little girl looks around, leaning in to whisper, “The bad man told me I wouldn’t see her again.”

Lady Griffin scrunches her eyebrows worriedly, “Did the bad man take her?” She lightly brushes the little girl's hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, “He took me.”

Lady Griffin lets go of the little girl's hand, “Well, don’t worry. I will take you back. I just have to finish this.” She stands up and leaves for the next floor.

On the seventh floor, Lady Griffin bursts through the door. She is met with the same sight as the last few floors. Men surround the women at the center of the room. The leader, however, is off to the side, sucking on another lollipop. He begins to chuckle, clapping his hands at a slow pace.

“Magnificent. You are glorious creature. Exquisite. A terror to my business, no doubt, but exquisite!” He leisurely walks to only a few feet away from her, circling her like a tiger hunting its next victim. Her wings raise menacingly as the leader gets closer, “Hmmm. No doubt at all. You, Griffin, are a threat. You have a choice. You can either join the rest in the middle there,” she looks behind him, focusing on the bound women, “Or, you can die...”

The men surrounding the women raise their muzzles towards her. She looks between them all. Trying to find weaknesses. Guy on the left has a tremble in his right hand. Guy down the middle is shifting too much between his feet. Her eyes dart back to the leader. The leader...

“Grif’... You have to calm down, or he’s going to do something bad,” Ezra says.

“Shut up!” She pulls the earpiece out, throwing it at the first guy she can. She leaps forward, punching the left and right, taking each man she touched to the ground. The leader continues to circle the room, watching the scene before him with calculating eyes.

Lady Griffin grunts as she grabs the last henchman by the neck, pushing him up against the wall. She slams his head once, twice and then a third time. She doesn’t stop until he crumples to the floor with blood seeping out of his skull. She wipes her hands onto her uniform then scratches at her face. She quickly turns around, looking for the last assailant. He is smirking at her, “Wow, truly a beast. You really are an animal, Grif-”

“Don't call me that.”

“But I’m afraid, this is the end. As much of an asset as you are, you must go...” His hand disappears behind his back, but Lady Griffin pays no mind. She charges. For her, it’s slow. Her wings are spread out, casting a shadow over the leader's entire body. Her face is scrunched as she baring her teeth at him. Her arms are gunning for his neck. A smile creeps onto his face, contorting it to looks monstrous. He begins to pull out his hand from behind his back, revealing a small syringe. Her eyes return to his. His eyes are black. Her surroundings begin to fade. She blinks a few times. And suddenly pain.

…

A girl is naked, laying on her side on top of a raggedy air mattress in a small makeshift tent made from old windbreakers and newspapers. Her back, from the shoulder blades to the elbow, is covered in large tattoos of wings. Her wrists and ankles bruised and burned from pulling at the now loose plaited rope. A man is next to her, looking down at her with sad eyes. With gloved hands, he puts a few fingers onto her neck, looking for her pulse. Her heartbeat is erratic. Her breathing is slow with a high wheezing. He turns her onto her back, pulling a penlight from his back pocket, looking into her eyes. Extreme dilation. He sighs, bringing her to her side, patting her lightly.

“So?” A man asks at the entrance of the tent, his arms crossed, foot tapping, lollipop between his lips.

The man on the floor huffs, “I warned you. You gave her too much... We need to get her to a hospital, or she won’t make it.” He moves to pick her up when the man scoffs.

“Pff! Hospital?” The man takes the lollipop out, “What the hell do I pay you for if you need to go to a fucking hospital?”

“I don’t have anything that could treat this.”

“Don't give me excuses, Ezra, you’re costing me my best fucking asset here. People come from all over for ‘Lady Griffin’. I’ve got people booked all the way to tomorrow for her! Not to mention everyone in this God damn country is looking for her.”

Ezra looks at him incredulously, “So what’s it going to be? You let her die, and you lose even more money, or you take her to the hospital, and only lose a few thousand...”

The man laughs, “Yeah right... Cops will be all over that place the moment they take her blood.” He plops the lollipop back into his mouth, swirling it around with his tongue as he looks at the girl, “You know what, Doc, just let her croak. Pussy’s pussy, right? All the girls are fucked up anyway, so it's not like it'll make a difference. We will take her to the river after the last client leaves.” With that, the man walks away, leaving Ezra with the girl who was known as Lady Griffin.

Ezra sighs, annoyed, as he takes off his gloves, throwing them at the windbreaker wall across from him. She moans slightly, opening her eyes in a daze. He crosses his legs, staying by her side as he strokes lightly at her cheek, “I’m sorry, Darling, I tried. I really did.” She attempts to say something, but it comes out in a garbled mess, “Shh... Don’t worry... you don’t have to talk anymore, Grif’. You’re free.” Her eyes drift, her breathing fades. She dreamed that she was flying, until it faded into a starry oblivion. At last, she is free.

~~~

Let me know what you think, if missed any warnings or tags as well!

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-Dey

#my writing #short story #creative writing #short fiction #writing #super hero #super powers #tw sex assault #tw violence #tw murder #tw death #tw drug mention

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shy-marker-pliers · 4 years

Text

High school AU thingamabob

Dark

17 year old senior

class president and is kinda high and mighty about it tbh

“yes i know student council can’t really make any changes without the input of the superintendent but IM THE PRESIDENT AND YOU’RE NOT SO SUCK MY DI-“

does sound/lights for all the shows the school puts on

dating wilford and no one knows how or why they’re together

had a deep as hell voice and a beard the second he hit puberty

takes every ethics/psychology class he can

wants to be a lawyer

that one kid that everyone fears but is actually kinda chill if not a little surly

wears a collared shirt and tie to school every day and would totally get made fun of for it if he wasn’t terrifying

listens to classical music unironically

“oh my god i’m so going to fail this test” *proceeds to get the highest grade in the class*

protector of the gays™️

person: *says something mean to a student because they’re lgbtq+*

Dark: *teleports in front of said student* omae wa mou shindeiru

Wilford

19 year old senior

Yes he still has the mustache

doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him

deadass wore a dress to school after one of his friends got made fun of because she wore a suit to a school dance

b u f f a s h e l l

could bench press a teacher if he really tried

on the cheer team

“no i’m not wearing pants, this miniskirt makes my ass look great!”

everyone’s bodyguard

usually attracts a crowd of nervous underclassmen

has mild dyslexia

tol

gives his friends piggyback rides

president of the drama club

works hard enough in school to pass his classes but that’s pretty much it

sleeps in class

Bim

15 year old freshman

vice president of the drama club

wilfords shadow

first freshman to help run the drama club and shoves it in everyone’s face

shouts his gayness from the rooftops

secretly super insecure

loves plants and helps out in the schools greenhouse

named all of the plants but if you tell anyone he’ll stab you

gets mostly B’s and C’s

has mild ocd but not enough to affect him severely

talks like a game show host cause he thinks it makes him sound attractive

it doesn’t

Google(s)

16 year old juniors

identical quadruplets

they have to wear different colors every day or else no one knows which one is which

they’re called the googles because their backpacks match the colors of the chrome logo and they’re super smart

straight A 4.0 GPA students but Oliver has to try a little harder than his brothers

all of them are in the robotics team except for ollie

Blue works on programming and red and green are on the build team

Ollie is the sweetest day of sunshine to ever exist and everyone loves him

he’s basically adopted Eric as his lil bro

tutors people in the library every tuesday and thursday

the other googles disapprove of his relationship with bing but he makes ollie happy so they don’t do anything about it

they all work in a supermarket and they’re saving up for college

ollie wants to be a vet, red and green want to be engineers, and blue wants to be a web developer

Bing

17 year old junior

mostly A’s, a few B’s.

his full name is zachary bing but people call him bing because he’s always trying to one up the googles

dudebro

was pining after ollie for months before chase finally felt sorry for him and told ollie how he felt

they’re dating now and it’s adorable

so soft for his boyf

a really good skater and wins a lot of local competitions

doesn’t study but still gets p good grades

wears sunglasses all the time because he has light sensitivity

Has ADHD

s t r o n k

always challenges people to arm wrestle him

can sing really well and plays gitaur

shares a youtube channel with chase where they skate and to challenges and stuff

Dr. ipiler

18 year old senior

Everyone calls him doc because he helps the school nurse and takes every single biology and health class there is

all A’s

really wants to be a surgeon

best friends with Schneep

huge star trek/harry potter nerd (ravenclaw if you’re wondering)

almost always at schneep’s house studying or just chillin’

kind of a control freak

thinks he’s charismatic but he’s actually kinda annoying

but annoying in a funny way

has a pet ferret that he sneaks into school

feral

espresso and sugar flows through his veins

“i actually got a good sleep last night.” “oh really?” “yeah bro i got a whole half hour!”

super dark bags under his eyes

Host

17 year old junior

all A’s except for in gym class

he has eyes in this

his real name is Simon Charles Teller (there are specific meanings to those names btw look them up) but he’s called The Host because he does morning announcements every day.

has gold eyes and a lot of people find it unnerving

“hey i have a podcast you should totally listen to it”

nocturnal

spends all of his free time in the library

always reading in class but the teachers don’t really care bc his grades are good and he does his homework

wants to be an english/poetry teacher

crushing on the cute shy kid from his english class

doesn’t talk much but he’ll still be nice to you

that one kid who’s always correcting the teachers

Runs the D&D club (he’s the dungeon master)

Eric Derekson

16 year old junior

Mostly high B’s, a couple of A’s.

lives with his uncle mark after he ran away from his abusive dad and is living a happy life

the guy that always volunteers to take care of the class pets over the weekend

animals love him

has anxiety, mild paranoia and autism.

animals, harry potter, and pokémon are his hyperfixations.

he also really likes gardening

crushing big time on hostioli

spends his entire english class staring at him and blushing

is seriously considering joining D&D club just to be able to talk to him

he’s in the art club

wants to be a vet and maybe do some freelance art stuff on the side

Ollie keeps yelling at him to just ask host out already but he’s too nervous

my poor bb boi

Wears sweaters all the time

wears headphones to block out noise if it ever gets too loud at he goes into sensory overload

disaster bi

Yan

18 year old senior

gets C’s

non-binary

has a makeup tutorial channel on youtube and has a pretty decent following

That one weeb

dyes their hair a new color every week

also has a new crush every week

everyone knows who their newest victim is because they never stop watching them

draws anime or cute animals for every art class

wants to be a a fashion designer

does MMA

everyone kinda stears clear of them

writes their first initial along with their crush’s on every notebook they own

has gotten suspended for beating kids up on multiple occasions

doesn’t really have that many friends but they don’t mind

spends their lunches watching their crush

in the drama club and the art club

Randall Voorhees

18 year old senior

C’s and D’s

Eric’s cousin/bodyguard

they have a lot of the same classes and walk everywhere together

loves animals and has like 10 pet rats

he doesn’t really care about his grades because he knows that he wants to be a woodworker/construction guy

makes little houses out of scrap wood for his rats and Eric thinks it’s adorable

always sneaks his rats to school and lets them have play dates with dr. iplier’s ferret

“nO IM NOT RELATED TO JASON VOORHEES HES NOT EVEN REAL SO SHUT THE HELL UP-“

used to live in nyc in queens and still has a pretty strong accent

completely incomprehensible when he’s excited or angry bc of the accent

everyone is jealous of his hair

spends like 100 dollars on shampoo and conditioner and stuff but it’s worth it

acts like the straightest guy in existence but could not be more gay

his boots are always muddy

Yancy

16 year old sophomore

his name is Yancy Bird

g...get it? like jailbird? ahaha...ok i’ll stop

permanent resident of the detention room

but he gets to just chill out and read for an hour so he doesn’t really mind

mostly gets detention for beating up kids that bully others

fuck the system

always wears a leather jacket and blue jeans

“hey, the 50’s called and they want their-“ SMACK. “shut up.”

takes a lot of criminal justice and psychology classes ironically

in the botany club but if you tell anyone they’ll never find your body

everyone is surprised when they find out he’s friends with Eric and ollie

pan but in denial

“i’m not gay guys, that ain’t me, i’m just comfortable with my sexuality. so i can admit when i see a guy with a handsome face and pretty eyes-“

that song is great btw you should listen to it

anyway

always makes really dark jokes and everyone is like “are you ok?”

except for his friends they just laugh

“lmao wouldn’t it be funny if everyone like...died”

#markiplier #markiplier egos #darkiplier #eric derekson #the host #wilford warfstache #yancy iplier #randall voorhees #bim trimmer #high school

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my-brothers-corrupted · 4 years

Text

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Nine : The Separated Twins

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Trigger warnings for physical and emotional abuse, hallucinations, and panic attacks.

On one side of the world, Henrik is exploring what it would mean to be free of Anti – what it would be to fight. On the other, Trick does something harmless that ends with him being punished and then even deeper under Anti’s hypnosis.

The Separated Twins

Anonymous asked: I believe in you. I believe in all of you that you can help Trick see that Anti isn't good for any of you and that he should not settle for the constant abuse he suffers under him just for the occasional glimpses of affection and attention. Please Blue... You and the others have to show him, show Trick that love shouldn't be painful. It should be warm, healing, and brings you up rather than down. -🦀

“Yeah,” murmurs Blue. “Yeah, I’d like for him to know that.”

He’s lying in his and Trick’s room, picking dully at Trick’s Switch, Noodle cautiously set at the end of the mattress beside him. He looks a little better than when you last saw him a couple days ago, but he’s still so worn. At least he’s wrapped up in Trick’s warm nest and wearing comfy old clothes.

“He deserves better,” he says. “I don’t know how to show him. But I’ll love him as hard as I can, damn sure… all of them. I miss the others.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, maybe if you would treat your brothers like actual brothers and go to them for comfort instead of to beat them, maybe you wouldn't be such a miserable piece of shit. Ever think of that? Mindboggling, I know.

Anti breathes out a long sigh through his nose.

He’s moving around his room, his form shifting slower than you’ve ever seen it shift before, gradually making himself look more like Red. Flowers flicker and then die around his feet. He stretches and the flame of a candle breathes hotly towards the ceiling before settling down again. His body flickers moment to moment. His room is cleaner than it was before, much of the blood stained disappeared or hidden in the brown of the carpet, but printed pictures are beginning to take up the space on his wall.

“You’re all cliches of each other,” he says finally, voice thin and irritated. His eyes, when he turns to you, are vivid blue beneath glasses that look like Dok’s. “Nothing you have said has ever convinced me, spectators. Try to be a little more entertaining. I could turn you off again at any time.”

aether-mae asked: Hey Jackie, now that you’ve got max with you to help you out, I was wondering if u were still thinking of heading back to Peru to find Doc?

Ro and JJ are still with Max two days later.

Ro is wearing his new blue hoodie. He is clean. His cheeks have more color and there’s even a bit of sun in his face. He smells like honeydew soap because he’s been having a hot shower every day. He’s shaved.

He’s cut his hair too. Just a little. There’s no more dye in his hair. It’s his hair. He cut it. Well, with Dapper’s help. And some enthusiastic compliments from Max to boost his confidence.

He looks good.

Max is on the bed with Dapper, a stack of playing cards on the sheets between them.

“Okay, then I - do I need the joker? Mate, have mercy on me, you’re signing too fast. Hey! I’m a perfectly capable learner, I’ll have you know. Fine then, wait til I kick your ass at this. Oh, what, does that mean I lost? Shit. You rigged this. Next round I got you.”

Ro laughs and comes to sit beside them. Max pauses for a moment to grin at him before going back to his card game.

“Hey,” says Red after a little while.

“Yeah?”

“I checked with Dapper last night,” says Ro. “I was wondering if your offer to take us back to Dok in Peru still stands.”

Max looks up at Ro, smiling. Dapper gives him a fair chance and then steals all his cards.

“Wh - JJ!”

“Careful, he’s merciless.”

“No joke. Deal me another round. Really, though, Ro? You’d let me drive you? We can get another hotel tonight and be there in a couple days. I’d about die to see Henrik again.”

Red nods, smiling back at him. “Yeah, I mean it. We want our Dok back. Need to see my little brother. We might not have the others right now, but we’ll figure it out once we’ve got… Henrik.”

“Jackie,” says Max, clapping his hands together. “This is the best news. I’d love to. Can’t wait to see you fidget like a maniac through hours of car time.”

“Oh, fuck, don’t remind me.”

“Hahaha. Okay, yeah! Let’s head out tomorrow first thing, then! We’ll get a rental car if we can find one or start on the bus. Have to get you lots of snacks and entertainment, I know. There was this one time you and I were on a trip and by the end of it you were just about upside down in your seat. We were visiting Ireland so you could show me some of your home…”

Max and Dapper play cards. Max talks, loud and earnest and comforting. A friend. A friend who isn’t his family, a friend who wasn’t ordered to look after him by Anti. Just somebody who likes Jackie for Jackie.

Jackie sits on the bed and listens to Max talk for hours. Tomorrow, they’ll head back towards Lima.

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti what's those pictures in your room?

Anti pauses, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t bother to move you from position, letting you get a look at the pictures. They’re of his brothers. No, wait - just Doktor and Red and Dapper.

There’s one where Dapper has Red over his shoulder, leading him up towards the house in Peru, where Doktor is waiting to look after him. There’s one of Doktor and Dapper asleep side by side on their mattress. There’s one of Dapper staring out a window in Norway towards the glowing lights in the sky, one of Red hiking proudly up the mountain, one of Doktor staring placidly up at Anti, slicked entirely in blood and still holding a scalpel. All of them take place from the eye of a camera. Dok petting Noodle, Trick’s shoes just visible in the corner of the shot. Dapper looking sweet in his blankets and over-sized hoodie, hugging his bear to his chest. Red like a statue in motion, wielding his fighting staff, younger than you’ve seen him since Dapper sent him to the past. Rows and rows of pictures of them.

Anti shifts unhappily around his room, his body changing slightly, slightly. His hair curls up and tinges teal at the fringe, and he runs his fingers through his own hair like he’s petting himself.

Anonymous asked: How did you get all those pictures? Do you like take snapshots with your mind or something? Or did you have an actual camera?

“What’s the difference?” he grumbles. “I’m basically a walking hard drive. With a taste for blood. And, uh. I don’t know. Sentience. Hair. A couple too many teeth. I can go back and watch anything my cameras have recorded whenever I want. Printing them out is just moving data.”

He throws a knife at the wall, burying it just above one of Dapper’s teddies on a dresser.

spicydanhowell asked: seems like you really miss them, hm anti?

“Well, they’re mine, and I’m fucking pissed they’re gone, yeah!” He buries another knife on the teddy’s outline. “The only thing I know is that they’re fucking alive and probably not in jail. But I’ll have them back soon. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Trick’s such a little sycophant he almost makes up for the others being gone. He’ll be home soon and then I can have some goddamn rest. This is some bullshit. Tell God I want a fucking refund.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Wow, Anti. You actually miss your pets? Or do you really consider them your brothers?

“Family is a construct,” growls Anti, picking up the bear in his hands. “Dapper is a warm body. Doktor is an immune system. Red is a guard dog.”

He sighs and throws it aside.

“Fucked up, though. Used to hate how loud Red would be through the walls. Now I kind of want to hear him. What a little brat. Can’t believe he was separated from me. Bulletproof vest. Locked door. Guard dog. Safety.”

Anti puts his hands in his red hair.

Anonymous asked: Where's trick? Is he alright?

“Trick went to get some dinner and some books at the library,” Blue answers you, smiling faintly. “He really likes being allowed have some freedom. Just a bus ride and a couple errands, but he gets all proud, like he’s my breadwinner, taking care of me, haha. I love him. He’s mostly alright, but, uh. I have been noticing him acting strange.”

Blue draws his eyes away from the cartoon animal game he’s playing on Trick’s switch for a moment. “Something wrong in his head, I… I don’t know. He reacts strangely when I ask about Dok. I’m scared. I think it’s a trauma thing. He seems so spacey all the time. But he’s happy, I think? For the most part? Every now and then I wake up to him crying next to me, clutching at me, but who can blame him for that? I think I’d be more scared if he wasn’t upset that Dok was gone at all, which is… how he acts during the day. But yeah, I think he’s as okay as I could expect him to be, mostly. He plays this little thing constantly.”

Blue shakes the Switch at you for a second and the screen blacks out. Blue jolts, lifting his fingers away to see if he accidentally hit the power button.

“That’s not yours to play with,” comes a cool voice from his doorway.

Blue jumps and drops the Switch, letting out a hissing sigh through his teeth, annoyed and afraid, as he can’t help but be every time he’s in Anti’s presence these days. Every time he hears him, sees him, smells his oil smell or feels his electric sting, he is back on a Norweigan beach he barely remembers, back on the Rio Puturnayo, back in a hospital room, huddled on the floor as the blows rain down.

“Fuck off, Anti,” he spits.

Anti’s mouth curls with a snarl at him. “Poor little kitten,” he coos. “Poor stupid boy.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” says Blue.

“Or maybe I just don’t care,” answers Anti, slinking back into the living room, his eyes still on Blue as they both wait for Trick to get home.

bupine asked: why no pictures of trick or blue, anti? are you missing your boys? also, you seem to be having trouble keeping a stable form. any idea why that is?

“I have Trick and Blue,” grumbles Anti, throwing a hand up. “Don’t need to see them. Know where they are. Know that they’re safe. And I’m not - shut up!”

He glares down at his own body, flickering and flashing.

“I always glitch, that’s - I have a brand, goddammit! It’s this flesh that’s fucking horrible, I - motherfuck.”

He hisses and buries his claws in his own right arm, watching blood well up against the flesh for a second. Then the arm flickers back into incorporeality and the blood trickles onto the floor. He growls, yanking on his hair for a second, trying to keep calm.

“So infuriating,” he snarls. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been, but my own body rebels. Stupid fuck. Symbolic, probably, don’t you think? Even my own flesh knows I didn’t grow it myself.”

He barks out an odd laugh, shape-shifting again, that subtle, slow, constant switch. Just reassuring himself, with every moment that passes, that he can still do it. That he can still become data, immerse himself in code, travel by electricity. It’s just getting harder, that’s all.

And he is powerful. This, at least, is true. The windows of the house are blooming with flowers. The candles were Trick’s idea. Dozens of them lined around the house, constantly burning. A chance for his power to express itself instead of devouring him.

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling, Blue? It’s good to see you again!

“Thank you,” says Blue, cooling a little as Anti walks away, pulling you back to him and flopping back on the bed. “I’m feeling, well. I’ve kind of gone stagnant? Like the last couple days, I feel okay, but I’ve stopped… getting better, sort of. Just tired and kind of achey and, well, frail. Having bad headaches too, and I still, uh.”

He touches his foggy eyes.

“Tried glasses,” he says quietly. “Big thick prescription glasses. Trick called me Monty Mole for two hours without fail. But they don’t cut through much of anything. The world is a permanent blur, ha… but you know what! Otherwise, I’m okay. Just been resting. This asshole hasn’t bothered me too much.”

He lets his hand flail towards Anti irritably.

“Oh, and guess what?”

He smiles winningly at you and then -

He pushes himself to his feet without help! All the way from sitting on the mattress on the floor to standing upright.

“Tada! Thank you, thank you, that’s right, I’m Blue the Magnificent, I’ll be here all week! Oh - shit!”

He crashes back towards the wall, laughing a little from the surprise and the slight embarrassment, though he still looks pleased with himself. He snatches up a cane that’s leaning on a windowsill and steadies himself on it, smiling at you.

“Tada,” he repeats warmly, standing upright.

“Meow,” cheers Noodle.

“Thank you, my dear.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is Noodle keeping you good company, Blue?

“Well,” sighs Blue. “The truth is I’m not really fond of cats.”

He stares down at Noodle and Noodle stares back at him.

“But after a bit of that hospital breakdown you saw, I know that Anti made me stop being fond of cats,” he adds softly. “And… killed mine.”

Noodle mewls softly, stepping forward to weave between his legs.

“So I’m trying to get used to him again!” says Blue, trying to find his cheerful voice. “Because I did like cats, I did! I don’t know what else he changed about my mind when he first took it over, but I want it back. And Anti can try to destroy me but I will keep fighting against it, even if only in these little ways.”

He summons his determination and leans down. Noodle bursts into throaty purring as Blue’s soft fingers scratch across his skull and golden kitten ears.

Anonymous asked: Hey any progress is good progress babey!! You’re doing so well! Very proud, so yes, cheers all around for Blue the Magnificent!

“I know, haha, thank you, yeah! I’m excited, I am! Like, it’s such a small step, but it’s a step, you know? It’s nice being able to get to the bathroom on my own and stuff like that. Honestly, when you’re really sick, it’s the small things that can be really demoralizing. Not that there was anything to be ashamed of! But it… felt like there was. Especially with how helpless I know I am in front of him.”

He glances over at Anti sitting in the den and he straightens his back fiercely, standing on that cane. He did good. He has to keep believing in himself. He’s making progress and Anti can’t stop him fighting.

Anonymous asked: HmmMMMM Anti it looks like your emotions are bleeding though a little bit....y’know cuz red is- yeah anyways, where did Chaser go?

“Great, great,” snaps Anti. “Yeah, I get it, betrayal of the flesh, blah blah. You know what, I already look fucking indistinguishable to the person I hate most in the world, so maybe destiny could just call that fucking good, but no, let’s add on to the discomfort of looking in a mirror.”

He kicks the stairs in the den space just for the hell of it. Stupid tangible feet.

“Not even my face,” he whispers, low and bitter. “He lives in the curves of me, in the cut of my jaw, in the way my eyes move. No matter how much I try to shape-shift. I wake up every morning looking just like him - but not like him - all over again. Bullshit. Made me a copycat and a fake at the same time. Bullshit.”

He heaves out a sigh, his black eyes stormy.

Laughter from the street interrupts his mood and he sits up a little, his face calming. He can hear Trick. Good, Anti’s sick of feeling alone. He gets up and looks through the window above the kitchen sink.

Trick must still be coming down the pavement because he can hear him talking and laughing, but he can’t see him. Who the hell is he talking to? Himself? Did his little mind finally snap? Is Anti going to have to burrow into his fleshy little head yet again?

“I’m telling you, I do like them!” he hears Trick laughing. “I do, I’m not lying, haha! It’s just I think the satay noodles are my favorite. But all the shit you guys cook is amazing, seriously. Yeah, I - no, I don’t think I have! Oh! Maybe I can try it tomorrow. Will you be there again?”

Anti stands back on his heels, frowning. His form flickers darkly.

Anonymous asked: We’re really proud of you, Blue. Really. You’ve been so strong though all of this. I’d be squishing you in a big hug rn if I could! Keep doing what you’re doing, be independent and don’t let no bitch tell you what you can’t and can do! You’ve got this :)

“Don’t let no bitch - haha, okay, thank you.” Blue laughs and sits down on the sill of his window, letting his head rest against the glass. “Hey, tell Trick to hurry up with dinner. That’ll be the real celebration. I love the hawker food he keeps bringing me. Glad I can eat for real, even if this is a little annoying.”

He takes the nasal cannula out of his nose in preparation for dinner. He’s getting better at breathing without it, even planning to try to sleep through a night without it soon. His lungs are recovering from the smoke and the burning. He breathes in deeply against the cool glass, his eyes noticing something out near the front of the house he’s never seen before, a colorful mess of cloth. Someone must have left it behind on the rusted old pole of metal that used to hold a hummingbird feeder or something. Weird.

Anonymous asked: Hey, trick! Whatcha up to?

Anti steps slightly back from the kitchen window and let his mind flood into the camera Trick carries with him.

Clothes shuffle and move around the screen. If you had to guess you would say Trick’s probably shoved the little camera in his hoodie pocket. From that one circle of light in the side of the pocket, you can see white hands with long red nails, and you can hear her tittering laugh over the sound of Trick’s almost breathless, enthusiastic talking.

“Dude, no! I’m telling you, these are for my nerd brother.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure? You’re not a secret professor of poetry, Connor?”

“Fucking look at me, do I look like a professor of anything?”

“Uh… skate-boarding?”

“Skate - ” He cuts himself off with a laugh and they both dissolve into giggles. Her hand brushes over his as they both gesticulate.

“Maybe weed?”

“I could be a professor of that, okay, you’re right. How about Minecraft?”

“Yeah, professor of Minecraft, I can see it. Kittens?”

“Now you’re just flattering me. I do love my kitten. Converse?”

“Noodle-eating?”

“Super Smash Bros.”

“America.”

“Just the whole of - hahaha!”

And they’re laughing together, there on the pavement just out of Anti’s sight as the sun glows red and pink over them. They’re laughing together and holding poetry books they picked out together at the library and take-out boxes full of hawker stand noodles and you know it’s Xin Yi, you know it is, and when there’s a soft silence and you can hear the both of them pause and look and breathe - well, then you know that he’s leaned in to press his chapped and loving mouth to her soft cheek, and that’s she smiling, and so is he.

Anti steps back again from the window.

He can hear the blood pumping loud, loud, loud through his head.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick! Trick! Be careful!

Trick’s still got his camera turned off.

The message goes to Blue.

You see his eyes flicker and his pupils shrink. His hands grip down tight around you.

“What?” he stammers. “What did Trick do?”

He’s on his shaky, shaky feet before you can answer. Staggering out into the den, using his cane, his oxygen strapped to his back. Trick. He has to protect Trick. That is all that matters.

“Trick?” he calls. “Amata?”

But there’s just Anti in the kitchen.

Still as can be.

The floorboards beneath his feet have burned down to the earth below.

Smoldering still.

Anonymous asked: Wait Anti don't punish Trick please! You know that he'd never leave you or doubt you or anything like that. For god's sake, he attached the collar that's traumatized him so much for you and never left your side these past days and helped you ground yourself and did those little things like the candles around the house for you. He's utterly loyal to you and he's undeniably yours, please Anti. Don't punish him for this.

“You can’t hurt him,” says Blue, over the soft hiss of the floorboards burning.

Anti doesn’t move.

“He loves you,” says Blue, louder. “Maybe more than anyone ever has. He’d do anything to make you happy. It’s horrible, but it’s true. He loves you or he thinks he does. Deeply, deeply. You can’t hurt him. They’re right. He’s done everything for you. He’d give you anything. Utterly loyal, undeniably yours. Maybe the last one of us who is. You can’t punish him for this. Just tell him no and he won’t - whatever he did, he’ll stop.”

Trick is coming up towards the door.

Anti stares at him, his eyes flickering. Black, brown, red, green, blue, white.

“Anti,” says Blue.

He is begging.

“Anti.”

spicydanhowell asked: you fucking did this though. in another world, if you were kind to them, they could have been a happy little brainwashed following for you. but you're not even kind enough to be a good tyrant... that's interesting.... you Drove them Away. they don't love you anymore. none of them

Anti can hear the words pounding through his own head.

You drove them away.

They don’t love you anymore.

None of them.

Anti has hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and hurt them.

He knows that.

But he always thought he would be enough to make it not matter.

He always thought he would be enough if he just tried.

Dapper is gone. Red’s not there to make him feel safe. Dok’s not there to help him if he’s hurt. Blue doesn’t want him. And all Anti has had for almost two weeks now is Trick.

Warm, loving Trick. The collar wrapped around his throat. His fierce blue eyes.

Anti thought he had been good to him. Kind to him. Warm to him.

And he still isn’t… he still can’t be… Trick still wants…

“Hey, Blue?” he says.

“What?”

“Why am I not angry?”

“You - are you not?”

He is paralyzed. Impaled. Petrified like a fossil.

“My chest hurts,” he says, and he leans over the silver sink of the unused home and vomits blood like a mortal.

Anonymous asked: You know he'd burn down the world for you if you asked him, would stay by your side even if you're burning in hell or lashing out at him. As Blue said, just order him or tell him that he can't do this ever again and he'll do it within a heartbeat. Please, Anti...

“Awww,” says Blue, and you can hear the cold sneer of his mouth even before you can see it. He moves on his shuddering legs to stand behind Anti, close enough that he can feel the burn of his own magic dammed up too powerfully in Anti’s chest. “Poor thing. Is my stolen magic making the little demon sick? Are you such a little virgin you get jealous of a single kiss on her cheek? What exactly are you compensating for that you can’t bear to see your fucking brother find a cute girl to hold hands with? Does that sting, Anti? Does it burn? Imagine if someone told you to hold that much power in for weeks… and weeks… and weeks… and then, after you lost control after all that obedience, they possessed you, cut you open, stole your soul, and blamed you for it. Would that hurt, do you think, little demon? Does it burn, Anti, does my magic burn?”

Anti turns like a snake striking to spit blood into Blue’s face, grabbing him by the throat and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Trick is the only one left who loves you,” cries Blue even as he scrambles away, his blue eyes flashing, his chest heaving for air. “Trick is probably the only person in the world who cares about you at all, and you’re going to hurt him because he blushed over a girl who showed him kindness? No wonder you’re so fucking miserable, you snake-faced son of a bitch. You need control so badly that you can’t even consider that we could ever love anyone other than you. How do you bear the twin system, anyway?”

“I’m the one who makes you love your twins,” hisses Anti, blood sliding out of his mouth. “You and Red could barely stand to look at each other before I wiped your minds clean.”

A burst of pain slams against Blue’s chest. “That’s not true!”

“Trust me, darling, it is, you can ask them. Red was baring his teeth at you, didn’t trust you, didn’t want you there. Then I swept it all away and told him to love you and he woke up not even knowing why he felt so fond of you. That’s what your whole relationship is based on. Just like your dislike of cats, Blue. I choose everything about who you are and you don’t even realize it.”

“Shut up!” screams Blue. “You’re a liar!”

“You’ll never be free of me. None of you will. This - this is the last straw, this and your traitorous brothers hiding away in South America. I won’t take any more of this. I will destroy this girl. Not just her but the warmth of her, the meaning of her, the need for her. Trick won’t even want anyone but me and the people I choose for him when this is over.”

“Guys?” squeaks a terrified voice at the door. “Wh - wh - what’s - ? Anti? Blue? Are you hurting each other?”

“Your fucking brother is losing his mind,” chokes Anti, turning to vomit over the sink again, fire licking across his teeth. “Shouting at me while I’m ill.”

“Don’t listen to him, Trick, he wants to hurt you for kissing that girl!”

Trick stares between the two of them, utterly flummoxed. Anti sets his gaze on him and a sudden terror rushes into his bones.

“A - Anti? Big brother?”

spicydanhowell asked: trick... sir... anti's gonna be mad at you for this???

“But - but - no,” stammers Trick, holding out his hands, confused, bewildered, terrified. “Anti, I… you’ve been so nice to me. You wouldn’t hurt me just for - she’s so nice, Anti, why can’t I - ?”

Anti’s hand draws back to strike him and Trick cowers and the blow -

The blow -

“Trick,” hisses Anti. Chokes Anti. Stammers Anti. “What - why would you - I don’t understand?”

“Anti,” says Trick, and then he starts laughing.

Anti stares at him, eyes huge. He looks down at Blue and Blue stares back at him, shaking his head.

“Anti!” Trick repeats, and grabs his shoulders. “Man, come on, what the hell!”

“Don’t laugh at me, you little brat!”

But he is, he’s laughing, and smiling at Anti, and holding his shoulders, and hugging him. “You’re so - oh, fuck’s sake, Anti. Are you jealous I kissed a girl?”

“No!”

“If you need help with girls, I could - ”

“I don’t care about girls, Trick!”

“Oh, well then maybe Blue or Red would be more help in that department, but - ”

“I’m angry at you!”

“But you wouldn’t hurt me,” says Trick softly, still smiling. “You would never hurt me.”

Blue stares up at Trick.

And he can see - oh, fuck, he can see the glaze of the hypnotism over his eyes. He can see the influence.

Trick can’t even comprehend it right now, that Anti would hurt him. Trick probably didn’t think twice about bringing Xin Yi back here.

Because Anti is his family and Anti loves him and Anti wouldn’t hurt him over a kiss on the cheek.

Right?

“Trick,” he hears himself whisper. “My little brother.”

How many times has Anti wormed inside his head today alone? How many of his thoughts are turned back towards him? How much of Trick is even still in there?

“You… didn’t even think about it, did you?” says Anti, very quiet. “How I would react to this.”

“No, I did! I want to tell you all about her, she’s so cool! Anti, she’s super cute, did you see her? And hey, I think they might have a brother, I could - ”

“Stop,” says Anti. “Stop. Let me breathe for a second.”

Trick stops immediately and fetches a towel from the bathroom, returning moments later to start wiping the blood gently from his mouth. “Poor thing,” he mumbles, touching Anti’s face without fear. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Anti. But you shouldn’t feel threatened. That’s kind of dumb, man.”

“I’m going to kill you,” growls Anti.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Trick, smiling at him.

And that’s it. It’s done. You see the moment Anti regains control.

The confusion is gone. The snake is back.

“Oh, Trick,” he soothes, reaching out to cup his face in return, and Blue gasps and hides his face as Anti’s eyes turn black and drowning. “You don’t understand, do you, little brother?”

Trick’s eyes unfocus like a blind man’s. He hums distantly, the towel pausing on Anti’s cheek.

aether-mae asked: Trick, it’s not safe to have friends outside of your family at the moment, as much as I hate to say. Anti will definitely hurt her to keep you all to himself.

“You’re going to hurt me?” asks Trick distantly, swaying slightly on his feet.

“I thought about it,” answers Anti, smiling sweetly at him, carding his hands through his hair. “It would have been so easy. Maybe I still will. Shove you in the shed and beat you til you’re sobbing for me to kill you.”

Trick’s eyes flicker, but his mouth is still smiling.

“It’s not your fault, really,” says Anti, brushing his fingers through his soft locks. “You have abandonment issues, don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You just want everybody to love you, poor thing.”

“I do,” confesses Trick, his face faltering with grief. “I do.”

“Course you fell for a sweet girl. Blue’s been useless to you. Dok’s gone. You must have been confused. But, see, you don’t know what I know, Trick.”

“What, Anti?”

Anti puts his head down on his shoulder, staring up at him, his mouth close to his ear.

“I’ve seen girls break your heart, Trick.”

“Break my heart?”

Anti runs his fingers over the scar in Trick’s head.

“She made you do this… you don’t remember. I made you stop thinking about her. I set you free from her.”

“You… you weren’t being possessive. You were trying to protect me?”

“That’s right, little brother. Besides, what do you need her for? Your family is right here, Trick. You don’t want to give our cover away, do you? They’d send you off to jail… take all your brothers away from you… take me away from you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Trick shakes his head swiftly, making himself dizzy. He clutches on to Anti for support, eyes drifting back towards his skull.

“Stop it!” screams Blue, no longer able to stand it. “Leave him alone! You’re ripping him apart every day! He doesn’t like having you in his head?”

“You want me to bind you up in your own vines and beat you til you cry again?” snaps Anti, turning to level a violent glare at him. Blue is paralyzed beneath the gaze.

Anonymous asked: We've seen old magical books, Anti. Blue's magic is going to kill you. It's adjusting your form to fit its true host and it'll keep doing it until it wastes you away or gets rid of your old incorporeality. You've made quite the big mess for yourself, haven't you? And still all you can do is boil in rage and self-righteous anger. Your rage controls you, you've never been the one in control here. That'll never change, Antisepticeye.

Anti seethes with fury, turning his venom gaze onto you, clutching Trick tighter, tighter, tighter to his chest.

“You don’t want to see that girl ever again,” hisses Anti. “Unless it’s when the two of us go to slaughter her for ever laying a hand on what belongs to me.”

“What belongs to you,” repeats Trick distantly, hiding his face against his neck and humming a song to himself.

“You didn’t like being with her. The sight of her makes your heart race. You’ll feel ill if you see her again. You’ll want to hide and come back to me. You’re terrified she’ll hurt you like the first girl did. You don’t want that. You don’t want to be with anyone anymore. Just stay here with your family, with your brothers, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt your heart. You won’t go. You won’t want anyone other than me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“In fact,” Anti adds in a snarl, turning back to you, and this, you can hear, is your punishment. “If you ever start to think that anyone is more important to you than me, I’ll take the memory of them from you forever.”

The slightest trepidation interrupts Trick’s daze. You see the flicker of his eyes.

“H… Henrik?” he whispers.

Anti’s possessive grip on him tightens, tightens, tightens.

“Yes,” he whispers. “If you ever break the rules like this again, I will make you forget even Henrik.”

Trick seems to wilt against him, panting softly.

“I have the power. You would forget everything about him. And he would still remember you, but you would only see a stranger. Wouldn’t that be just horrible?”

He nods against Anti’s shoulder.

“Anti, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry, forgive me.”

“Don’t worry, Trick,” Anti whispers, gripping his hair. “I will help you make this right.”

Blue stares up at him from the floor, tears in his eyes. Anti smiles viciously back. His teeth are still red.

Yes. He is in control. No one else. And maybe it feels like the others abandoned him, betrayed him, turned against him, found someone new. But no - no. Soon, soon as Blue can travel, they will go back to Peru.

And then Anti will take his family back again.

No one else will get in the way.

No one else ever could in the past. Kamenye. Brody-Chen. Deshmuhk. Sforza. Every casual hook-up Marvin was sleeping with, every idiot friend or loyal coworker. They don’t even matter now. They’re dead, or gone, or scattered like cowards in hiding across the earth.

Anti looks up Xin Yi’s last name.

Koh. Pretty.

Koh won’t matter either.

“We will make this right,” he repeats.

And he does not notice the fabric fluttering on the hummingbird feeder in his front yard.

A warning sign.

There are consequences to the blood that Anti has shed across the earth.

There are survivors.

Anonymous asked: Tell me you didn't touch Chase's family, Anti. His kids??

Anti smiles down at Trick’s dazed face.

Then he slaps him so hard Trick goes crashing to the earth, a handprint red against his skin, and Blue lets out a scream on his brother’s behalf, crawling forward to snatch him away from Anti.

“Stupid fucker,” growls Anti.

“You’re disgusting!” screams Blue, hiding Trick against his chest. “Hurting other people just so you can feel like you’re in control! It’s pathetic!”

“I am in control!” Anti screams back, jerking forward fast enough to make Blue cry out in fear, grabbing his broken nose. Anti laughs hard, throwing his head back. “I’m the pathetic one? Every one else is like a squirming rat to me! Chase’s fucking kids. You should be grateful I don’t kill children. But it doesn’t matter. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’ll never, ever see them again. Even if he could get free of me, those little brats are so deep in hiding even Red couldn’t hunt them down.”

“He has children?” cries Blue. “You took him from his family? Trick has children?”

“He belongs to me!” screams Anti. “He was always owed to me! The children were more of an accident than I was, and that’s a fucking miracle. Now get in your room before I decide I want to see you eating through a tube for the second time this month!”

Blue grabs Trick and scrambles back towards their room, his brother barely able to cooperate.

“Fucking girl, touching what’s mine!” he hears Anti scream, his body spasming apart into a myriad of violent colors, blood weeping down his chin again, meeting the open wound in his throat. Roots tear at his feet and the candles in the room burn like fire spirits performing a ritual to a war god. “Thieves, everyone, everyone! I hate outsiders, I hate intruders, I hate them! This is our story! The six of us and him! Anyone else is a distraction, an outlier, a mistake. Anyone else who tries to intervene can die like the worms they are.”

Blue drags Trick into his room and collapses, slamming the door shut behind them.

Anonymous asked: Literally- Bitch- Anon said "you let your rage control you" and you /immediately/ let your rage control you. Jesus christ your lack of self awareness is downright hilarious at this point Anti.

Your screen-four camera goes flying across the room the moment the message reaches Anti and crashes into Blue and Trick’s door, shattering your view into static. Blue lets out a little yelp, backing away from the door.

A drawn-out yowl like a tiny tornado siren from behind the mattress indicates Noodle’s terror.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” calls Blue to the cat, panting, pulling Trick into his lap and touching his reddened face. “Oh, Trick, Trick… my love, my amata, my brother… are you alright, my heart, are you okay? Your kitten wants you, yeah? Should I get him for you?”

Trick’s eyes are screwed shut.

He is crying in silence.

“My love,” repeats Blue in a whisper, pressing their foreheads together and gathering him into his arms. “My love. Here I am. Here I am. No one will hurt you now.”

Anonymous asked: It's literally in your own best interest to give Blue's magic back, Anti. It will kill you if you don't. YOU JUST VOMITED UP BLOOD. well, it IS your choice to keep it or not, but you won't have anyone to blame but yourself if it does something irreparable to you.

You can see him from the cameras in the corner of every room.

Panting over the sink.

Face white. Image moving.

“I’m powerful,” he whispers. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. Every day, my control is stronger. At the end of every day, I’m so ill I think I will die, and I bleed and shake and grow ill like men do, b-but… but the rest of the day… my strength, my strength!”

He crumples slightly over the sink, his arms trembling.

“If I could just find a way to be both tangible and incorporeal… there must be a way… there must be a way to fix this yet. And even if I wanted to, even if I wanted to…”

He stands for a long, long time shivering over the sink.

In fact, most of you will have turned your attention away by the time he speaks again.

And even if you have not, he still speaks so quietly as to barely touch the ear - a whisper to make the kitchen a confessional - a secret -

“I don’t,” his bloodied tongue confesses. “Know how.”

Anonymous asked: Stand strong Blue. Defend your baby brother. Even if he does hurt you, at least that'll prick a hole in Trick's current false reality and bring him back to earth a bit.

“Right,” whispers Blue, curled low around Trick’s body. “Yes, I have to look after him. Yes, no matter what. Trick… amata. Fuck, I used to know your name… but it doesn’t matter, I love you.”

He cards his thumb across Trick’s cheeks, brushing tears away. “It’s okay, mo deartháir. Just hold onto me. Oh… well, let me get my oxygen.”

He grabs at his chest for a second, struggling softly, trying to pull in air. Eventually he manages to pull himself across the room and put his cannula back in his nose, taking a deep breath in.

“Blue,” cries Trick softly, clutching at his shirt.

“Trick,” answers Blue, wrapping back around him. “Trick, Trick. Sh, darling, okay. Here, look, your little paper, do you want it?”

He presses the blue crinkle paper into his brother’s palm and Trick wraps his fingers around it, hiding in Blue’s stomach.

“And your cat? Come here, kitty kitty, yes, there’s a good sweet boy.”

He scoops Noodle up and places him on Trick’s chest. He’s a sweet, intelligent cat, and immediately he is banging his little head up against Trick’s chin, mewling for attention. Trick palm closes around his growing golden body. Soft as duck down.

“What happened?” sobs Trick. “I was - I was happy and then so scared and I can’t remember why… Blue, someone’s going to hurt me, don’t let them hurt me! Blue, Blue!”

“No one’s going to hurt you,” swears Blue, pulling him close. They’re warm as space heaters against each other, curled up on the floor together. “It was - Trick, it was Anti, but I won’t let him - ”

“Oh, no,” breathes Trick, looking immediately dazed again, his eyes drooping. “He protects me, he loves me, he would never…”

Distantly, he touches his stinging cheek. Blue pulls the fingers away and leans down to kiss the mark, stroking his fingers through Trick’s hair as he cries soft against his chest.

“I was so happy,” says Trick. “Where did it go? What happened? I can’t remember… I must have really fucked up, Blue, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything…”

“I’m so sorry, amata,” whispers Blue. “Oh, no, Trick, not for a moment. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. You didn’t know Xin Yi would be in danger here. You didn’t mean to make Anti angry. You didn’t do anything. You’re so sweet to me, and to him too, even though he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who’s Xin Yi?”

Blue winces, putting his forehead down against Trick’s. “I… I…”

“Is - Blue, is Anti going to make me h-hurt someone?”

“I - I don’t know, Trick. Not if I can help it. We won’t let it happen, okay? We won’t let it happen.”

“Please hold me…”

“Here I am.”

“Blue,” whispers Trick. “I love you more than air. But I want Dok so, so much. Why isn’t he here? Why won’t he come back to me? Doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“He’s just lost, Trick,” Blue answers. “He still loves you so much. Won’t it be nice to see him again after so long?”

“I’ll hug him,” says Trick simply, his breathing beginning to calm a little. “I’ll be able to sleep again, when Dok is… when Dok is…”

His gaze drifts. He’s only allowed to think about Dok for so long. His brain no longer holds on the thought of him for more than a minute, and so, several times a day he feels a great pang of grief, and then a numb confusion as it disappears again.

“Just let me hold on to you,” says Blue. “I got you.”

“You got me,” answers Trick, smiling weakly up at him. “You’re really good to me, Blue. Love you so much.”

“I love you, Trick.”

“Ekk,” says Noodle, licking Trick’s chin. Trick hugs him close and listens to his roar of a purr.

Blue finds Dok’s shirt amid Trick’s nest. He drapes it over them both. Faintly, Trick registers the smell of him. Blue’s fingers soothe his pain and his fear away, moving through his hair and across his back. Blue is holding him. Blue loves him. No matter what. Right now, it’s all that matters.

Anonymous asked: Trick please... You don't have to change yourself or act like someone you're not for the sake of making everyone happy. They love you for you. They love Trick and not... Whoever. Just... Blue please tell him? It would mean a lot more if it came from you. -🦀

Blue softens, staring at you for a second.

Fuck, but he’s glad to have someone on his side.

“You guys and Mr. Noodle here,” he murmurs, curling low over his brother, hugging him close.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I love you just the way you are.”

Trick stares up at him, his eyes wet and his mouth smiling sorrowfully.

“Blue,” he whispers, like a single-syllable song.

“Don’t want you to think you have to change for him,” chokes Blue, kissing his cheek again.

“Who’s him?”

He can’t bear to fight with him about Anti right now. Blue puts his face down against Trick’s shoulder.

It’s Trick’s turn to run his fingers across Blue’s scalp, soothing him even as he continues to cry. Their arms wrap around each other’s shoulders and ribs like a weary twilight Pieta. Blue gives his brother time. He needs it too. A half hour, an hour. Rocking him in his arms and listening to him snuffle and cry and try to figure out what happened, his confused mind making a mess of it and leaving him exhausted in Blue’s arms. Still, he has enough presence of mind to find the most important thing to say, when finally Blue feels his heart slow against his fingertips.

“I love you too,” swears Trick. “Just the way you are.”

“Anti made me the way I am,” says Blue. “And it’s not enough to protect you.”

“It’s always enough,” Trick says, with a reverence like a prayer. “Don’t you know you make me want to love myself?”

Warm hands and bodies pressed close together. The purring of a cat and the brotherhood shared in twin eyes.

Blue knocks their foreheads softly together.

“You and me?” he whispers, settling down against their nest.

“Yes,” says Trick. “No matter what happens. I have you, Blue.”

“Amata,” says Blue, trying to make up for the times Anti has said it with his lying mouth, trying to make up for all the times Anti corrupted this one truth that still remains. “Amata. Amata. Beloved. I love you.”

The sun has come down blue as the felt between the night sky and warm on their shoulders. Trick, Blue realizes, has fallen asleep in his arms.

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

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, you should ask the magicians for some candles that you can light on the shabbats! I think finally being allowed/able to practice your culture will really help you on your journey to healing. Remember dayenu, remember the blessings and songs. You're free, dok, you can have more than just Hanukkah now.

You find Henrik sitting in that dusty library basement, surrounded by the tall shelves of the books, flipping wearily through the pages of some stiff yellow tome. He’s surrounded by books, but, for once, all on his own. He no longer feels the need to be lead around or escorted. He knows he’s not a prisoner and, what’s more, he goes where he pleases.

“Ah,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose and giving you a small smile. “Well… that’s very nice. And I’d like to do some of that, maybe. I remember my songs and blessings even when I’m with Anti, but I don’t always use them anyhow.”

He sighs and fiddles with the pages of the book. “It is just not that easy as jumping back into it, yeah? Like… fuck, I don’t know. Anti’s not the only thing that’s been stopping me from my practices, I guess. My relationship with my faith is… well, it’s a lot of strings to untangle. I’d like to go back to having a real community, but even if I didn’t feel like I was going back to Anti soon, I’m still not sure I feel like I… I belong, you know, I’m just…”

He trails off, pulling his book closer and shaking his head.

There’s movement on the other side of the library and he blinks, looking around, but he settles back down to his reading.

“Trying to find more info on what Anti is,” he says, changing the subject. “But no real luck. I don’t think he’s anything anyone has ever seen before.”

cest-mellow asked: hey henrik, i’m glad they took you here. it’s very pretty. but, listen, there is a way you can potentially help blue and stop anti. this is gonna sound scary, but emmanuela wants to take a little look inside your head, just to see what antis done, nothing more. she’s very warm, she doesn’t want to cause you or your brothers any sort of harm. she really will help you, and blue, and red and dapper and trick, if you trust her with this. she won’t use any of this against you, it’s only to help.

“Oh, scheisse,” groans Henrik, putting a nail between his teeth. “JP mentioned something like that at dinner. I - oh, get this! They made me eat fucking lamb’s intestines and wouldn’t tell me what it was until I was done, haha. I wanted to be pissed but, okay, listen, lamb’s intestines? Kind of good. I ate… a lot of it, haha.”

He’s a healthier person than when he came here almost two weeks ago, his face flushed with health. He’s been exercising again - turns out he’s something of a runner, which is not something he would have guessed about himself - and he eats three meals a day, every day, and sleeps in every morning.

“Wait until I get them back with something really German, then we’ll see who’s laughing. Oh my gosh, I can still feel how chewy it was! And the kids are so funny, because they will just gobble it down, they just - ”

He pauses and clears his throat. “Sorry, we were talking about Emmanuela. Yes. Um.”

He lets out a deep breath, fidgeting with his book. “I think I trust her. I know the others do and that’s about enough for me. But someone in my head is - that sounds scary, I - I don’t know. I’ve been disillusioned about so many things for so long and I’m still waking up to them. I’m scared she’ll find that there are important things I believe in that are lies too. That maybe everything is a lie. She’ll find something like Trick doesn’t love me without Anti there or Dapper is as bad as Anti or Anti is really… is really…”

He shakes his head slowly, staring down at his books.

“Is really and truly irredeemable. I don’t know that I could bear it…”

There’s movement again, closer to him. He blinks, looking up, shrinking in on himself a little. The lights flicker off on one half of the library and he jolts, staring around him, shadowed half in darkness. Footsteps and he shivers.

“Hermann?” he calls. “Nina?”

No answer from the darkness.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Henrik, maybe you should be on your guard. Where did all the others go?

“I don’t know, just hanging around,” he says, getting to his feet. “I - I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

It’s become something of a mantra for him. He whispers it to himself after nightmares and triggers, hiding away on his own, holding his own arms around his shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll go. It’s getting late anyway. I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

“Funny,” answers a voice, and Henrik shudders, backing against the shelves, his breath picking up in his chest.

This voice has the thickest Spanish accent yet, almost too heavy for Henrik to understand. The shaking of the voice - the croaking, rasping, cold hiss of the trembling voice - does not make it any easier.

“Funny,” repeats the Old Man, somewhere close by. Somewhere between the shelves of the placid, dusted old library, half-dark. “Funny, funny. A joke, almost. My son, you know, he think the same thing before your brother kill him.”

A snake longer than Henrik’s entire body comes dripping down the bookshelf in front of him, golden eyes fixed directly on him.

hurricael asked: Hey magicians, do you know if someone giving back magic has ever been recorded? And if so, how? Like, magic that was taken and then given back to that person ((I'm a little timeline-muddled so if this doesn't fit here feel free to ignore it))

“Have you been looking for answers?” asks the Old Man, and Henrik whirls as his voice seems to move, almost like Anti’s does, and Henrik feels his heart constrict. “Have you been looking for salvación for your killer family? For all the different kind of murderer you love? For the one who kill Jose, and the one who kill Christofer when he go to help you, and the one who tortures Genesis?”

Fuck. Henrik closes his eyes tight against the memories. No! He won’t be intimidated by this man. He won’t be cowed. He’s Henrik, Dok, their brother.

“You don’t understand!” he cries. “You don’t understand anything about us.”

“Everybody like to say it’s complicated when bad things happen,” answers the Old Man. “You are here, you talk about religion down here? Talk about going back to being a good Jew? It’s complicated. Nobody understand. You tell yourself. But sometimes? You were just wrong. You were just evil. And not everybody deserves salvación.”

“No,” croaks Henrik. “You can’t just - ”

“If you had wanted answers,” says the Old Man. “I am the one who know every book in this library. Here’s your answer: no, your thieving, blood-thirsty brother can’t give the magic back, or at least that is not in any of the books, in any of the history. Same way your black and white brother can’t undo the scars on Genesis, and your red brother can’t bring my child back from the dead.”

Henrik leaps the snake and races back towards the stairs. His hands are growing wet with - oh, oh, what is this? When did he begin to bleed?

“Hey!” he screams, tumbling against a bookshelf. “What are you doing? Please stop! I’m sorry about your child but I didn’t - ah!”

Blood is running down his cheeks. Down his chest. Down his arms. He screams as cuts appear, painless but weeping, across his skin. Thick, heavy scars in some places, neat little patterns in others. The same scars Anti and Dapper gave Genesis. Henrik can feel the star shape on his cheek. Chain burns redden on his shaking wrists.

“The longer you stay here,” hisses the Old Man. “The more tired I am of excuses for everything your family is done to mine. You are not worth defending if monster comes back. You were not worth Jose and Christofer. You should not be here.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: GENESIS! ANYONE! HENRIK IS IN DANGER!

Genesis gets the notification on her phone, turning you on to let you see her splayed out on her bed, eating crackers.

“What?” she says through a half-full mouth, and then the message kind of registers, and she’s scrambling to her feet, spilling crumbs everywhere. “What? Where is he? Anti can’t have gotten in here. Emmanuela!”

She races out of her room, tearing open the door to Henrik’s room, but he isn’t inside.

Anonymous asked: Genesis, the Old Man is attacking henrik, isn’t there any way for you guys to stop him??

“Motherfucker!” shouts Genesis, even louder than she called for Emmanuela, tearing down towards the stairs. “He would not! He did not! Emmanuela will eviscerate him!”

“Genesis? What’s going on?” calls one of the three children, poking their heads out of the dining room.

“Go get everyone for me, now! It’s an emergency. The Old Man’s lost it. I shouldn’t have left the medico alone!”

She’s charging down the stairs already. “Henrik!” she shouts. “It’s okay, I’m coming! It’s not real, medico!”

Henrik can’t hear her. He’s curled up in a ball, clutching at his head, your camera abandoned beside him.

“Do you remember me?” asks a voice you haven’t heard in weeks, and the heavy boots of the enormous magician who had tried to carry Trick back to the car to be with Henrik appear in your vision. Christofer leans down over Henrik and blood comes pulsing from his throat, a great dog’s-teeth wound tearing his neck into bloody shreds. “Do you remember I tried to help you?”

“Stop!” he screams. “Please, no!”

There’s another body behind him a moment later. You’ve never seen this magician before, but you know who he is. He holds the great black book that Anti stole and used to take Marvin’s magic. Red killed him.

“Is it easy?” says Jose. “To pretend all the people you hurt are just side characters, nameless, forgotten the moment you put a blade in them? How many people have you killed, medico? How many of their names do you remember now? All of them had people who loved them.”

“I never wanted to!” screams Henrik.

“But that isn’t quite true now, is it?” sneers Jose’s image, and Henrik can hear himself laughing wildly, crazed, can hear the horrible squealch of his scalpel impaling a body again and again, cackling and babbling in German, and Anti cooing in his ear:

“There’s my good Doktor. There’s my little torturer. Now, at last you can admit it - you never became a doctor to heal anybody. You always wanted to feel what it would be like to kill someone and hold their heart in your hands.”

Henrik sobs and wraps his arms around himself. “Trick!” he screams. “Trick, please!”

Anonymous asked: It’s an old man, talking about how red killed his child. They’re in the library and he’s freaking Henrik out!

Genesis bounds down the stairs and finds Henrik shaking at the bottom, curled into a ball, holding his head and babbling.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t mean to. Let me go back to Trick. I did what you asked. Let me go back to Trick. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good!”

She falls to her knees beside him and cups his face in her hands, shushing him lowly, looking over him for injuries, but, while Henrik’s camera shows you rivulets of blood and bodies standing over him and the great long body of a constrictor snake creeping along the floor towards him, there is nothing in Genesis’s phone camera except Henrik himself, whole and unharmed, rocking on the floor.

“I’ll make him stop, I’ll make him stop, it’s just an illusion,” she reassures him, leaping back to her feet. “Viejo, paras! I’ll go get him, medico, stay here!”

Almost as soon as she’s rushing down the library shelves to find the Old Man, Hermann is crashing down the stairs to fall at Henrik’s side, taking his hands in his own, his eyes looking wildly around.

Anonymous asked: There's a reason we've done away with 'an-eye-for-an-eye' punishments. It's not as simple as your family hurt mine so I get to hurt yours back. We judge based on individual actions and we learn and grow and forgive if we choose to. I get that you're mourning your family's losses, but hurting Henrik won't take away your hurt. You're just putting more hurt into the world.

“They’re right, so cut it the fuck out!” screams Genesis, rounding the corner of the bookshelves, and there, at last, you see the Old Man.

His dry mouth is twisted into a terrible snarl.

The wrinkles around his eyes are soaked in tears.

He cries in silence, glaring at nothing, his eyes glowing faintly gold from the magic he’s using on Henrik.

“Viejo,” calls Genesis, her eyes softening, though her mouth is still taut with anger for her friend. “Stop. Stop. Jose wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“It does not matter,” he mumbles in Spanish, tears splashing onto the floor. “He is not here and never will be again.”

Anonymous asked: Question old man: who the hell are you HELPING by doing this? You passed-on family is gone, and the ones who are still here are trying to help this guy sure himself out and stop a demon so he can't hurt anyone else. You're directly impeding progress on that front. You're certainly not helping yourself by debasing any trust your living family has in you.

“You can kick me out after this if you please,” he tells Genesis, slumping back in his chair, his hand limp on the table before him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She comes to stand beside him, her eyes flickering. After a moment, she puts her hand down on his shoulder.

He reaches up and traces the scars that Anti left her, his eyes clouded with both age and misery.

“Stop,” she says. “Please, I’m asking you. Jose was not the only one who loves you. I’m ashamed of you now. Stop, for my sake. For Jose’s memory.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but at her request, the glow in his eyes fades away.

Henrik chokes and slackens across the floor as the hallucinations fade away, still shuddering. Hermann is murmuring reassurances to him, trying to get him back to his feet. It’s best to get him out of the library before anything else happens.

Genesis and the Old Man are still together in the darkness. He stares down at the wood of the table and closes his weeping eyes.

bupine asked: old man, these men have been through so much pain. i understand you have too. but wishing more pain on them does nothing. it doesn't help you feel better, i'm sure, and it won't reverse any scars or bring any person back from the dead. i am so sorry about your son. anti has done a lot of terrible things, and his brothers have too, as a result. but they're hypnotized, they have no choice. save your rage for someone who truly deserves it.

“The medico is a good man,” whispers Genesis, leaning down to touch his hand. “You would know that if you had given him a chance.”

The Old Man shakes his head slowly, slowly.

“I mean it. He’s like me, viejo. He’s like Jose was too. How many of us have come here because people hurt us and set us down paths we never meant to go down? This is supposed to be a place to have some peace. To find yourself. Why would you do that to him? He was hypnotized. He was lost.”

The Old Man just shakes his head. Eyes still closed. “No. Hypnosis only goes so far. Maybe the demon killed Christofer. But Jose was killed by one of the servants. And he should have fought. He should have fought it. I don’t care how hard it would have been. He gave himself up to the demon and Jose died for it. If that red man ever comes near this place, I’ll show him what it feels like to watch the people you love most die around you. I’ll shatter his mind til he’s in pieces and you can call it an act of mercy, then, because the demon won’t use his hands for murder after that.”

“Stop,” snarls Genesis, shaking her head. “You stop. Don’t you dare threaten any one of them. I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed.”

Anonymous asked: Why did you do that? Did you hope to gain something from torturing him?

“He plans to go back to the monster,” says the Old Man. “He still loves his brothers. Maybe he should have a chance to see them for what they really are. Maybe he should see himself for what he really is. Not one monster. Six.”

Genesis draws away from him, mouth pursed. She doesn’t know what to do. She’ll leave it to Emmanuela to decide what to do with him. Her hand falls away from his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Sir, I’m sorry that you lost your child and I can’t begin to understand how that might feel, but taking it out on Henrik will not bring him back. Henrik was brainwashed and manipulated to do what he was told by the demon he was with, and he didn’t even kill him. Your child’s blood is on the demon’s hands, not his.

Genesis draws away from him. Doesn’t have the energy or time to comfort him while Henrik’s in pain and it’s his fault. She moves back towards the stairs, leaving the Old Man behind in the darkness.

“Wasn’t the demon’s hands either,” you hear the Old Man whisper, quiet as Genesis moves away from him. “I was the one who sent him to fetch the book. My son…”

If you were seated back at the table with him for a moment, you might have seen one more illusion, one more of his magic tricks - a young man sitting there beside him, healthy and strong and beautiful, smiling at him and reaching out to hold his hand. But no matter how long the image sits so lovingly beside him, the warmth of his fingers and the touch of his skin would never come down on their father’s palm again.

Anonymous asked: You underestimate the demon’s power. They did fight, and they’re still fighting, every single minute of every single day. Some days are harder than others, scarier than other, and sometimes they have to do things that aren’t too pretty to survive. They have known nothing else but survival and their abuser. I respect the place that your opinion comes from, but it is also one of misguided anger and it is beyond wrong to trigger a victim because you are hurt. It is not your place to pass judgement.

“Come on,” murmurs Genesis, carrying you up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time with him. If he doesn’t see that now, words won’t make him see it. He’s in a great deal of pain. Fuck, I knew he had objected to letting the medico wander free, but I never thought…”

She shakes her head, hustling up the stairs, where she finds a panicked JP waiting for the elevator.

“Genesis! What’s going on?”

“Old Man gave Henrik Nightmares. Maybe you shouldn’t bother him right now, JP.”

“He did not.”

“He did. Come on, I can hear him crying out. I need to check he’s okay.”

JP grabs his wheels and hurries after her.

“Where’s Nina?”

“Lying down. Baby’s really hurting her.”

“Damn baby,” mumbles Genesis, and despite the situation JP snorts out a laugh, running his hands through his hair. “Hermann? Where are you?”

“We’re in Emmanuela’s office,” Hermann calls back.

Henrik grabbed you at some point and you’re clutched tight in his shaking hands, listening to him wheezing and choking out terrified German. Hermann is kneeling close beside him and Emmanuela is sitting on his left, her eyes faintly gold, trying to pull him out of the last of the illusions.

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! Red didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to hurt them, he didn’t want to hurt us, he just - he- I didn’t!”

“Hey, you’re safe,” Hermann whispers, squeezing his hands. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

“I want Trick! Trick! Please, where is he?”

“I don’t know, amigo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

spicydanhowell asked: if you wanna comfort henrik, try rubbing his back or his head. his twin used to do that a lot

“Can I touch you?” asks Hermann.

Henrik is already gripping at his hands, disoriented and lost and afraid. “Trick?” he sobs.

“It’s Hermann, medico. It’s okay.”

“I want my brother,” he chokes. “I want - I want Anti.”

There’s a slight shift in all the magicians around him, glances exchanged and mouths twisted. Emmanuela gets to her feet and begins ushering people out of the room. “Give him some space.” The children race off, followed by a more reluctant JP and Genesis. Emmanuela sits down at her desk to give him room, and Hermann shifts closer to Henrik. He reaches up to touch the back of his head and, when Henrik only falters into it, he strokes gently at his hair, still clutching his free hand.

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” says Hermann. “I meant to protect you. I’m sorry.”

“No, he was right,” sobs Henrik, clutching at his face. “I’m a murderer and a sadist, I always have been, I love the sight of blood, just a freak… my brothers have all killed people, except maybe Blue, and we do it all just because Anti tells us to, and do you know what the worst part is?”

“Medico, Henrik, sh, sh…”

“I still love him,” cries Henrik, feeling something snapping inside his chest. “I still love him! He is my brother! I know he is a monster and I still want him! The Old Man was right. I’m just a monster too, wanting to be with him, wanting to be his.”

He crumples across Hermann’s shoulders, tumbling against his chest, and Hermann just reaches out to hold him, stroking slowly at his hair.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hen.... it's okay. Yes you might have done wrong in the past, but that does NOT make you a monster. You will wee Trick soon, okay?

“I need to go back to him,” Henrik is sobbing, gripping at Hermann’s shoulders. “No, I mean it! I’ve been thinking it this whole time, I - I can’t - I’m not ready to leave Anti, or at least not leave Trick and my brothers with him.”

“Medico,” says Emmanuela.

“No, I mean it,” he repeats. “I meant to tell you - you, mostly - ” He casts you a red-eyed glance, hiccuping. “I plan to go back to Anti. I do. I’m not - I’d like to stay. I would. But I can’t leave Trick and Blue behind, or the others. I have to be there to look after them. That’s my job. I’m planning to go back to Anti. I am. You shouldn’t try to stop me.”

Emmanuela sits back in her chair, sighing. Hermann gives her a desperate glance, but she’s turned away from him.

“You can’t do that,” whispers Hermann, gripping Henrik’s head tighter. “You have to stay safe.”

“I know there’s nothing selfish about staying away from someone who’s treated you poorly. But I still… I still need to be with Anti. I feel his presence clawing at me. He’s so deep inside my head. And what’s more, I want to be with him. I can’t just give up on him, or on the others. They must be suffering so much. I have to look after Blue and protect Trick as he comes down from what Anti’s putting him through. Besides, I’ll only bring Anti here if I continue to hide. It was never feasible, me staying here. I need to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Trick.”

“This is horrible,” says Hermann, shaking his head. “No.”

“He’ll make his own choice,” says Emmanuela softly.

It would not be the first time she’s let people go, no matter how unwise it seemed.

“He’s an adult and a free man. He’ll make his own choice. But first he must let me make sure he sees as clearly as he can.”

She turns and levels her gaze at Henrik. He swallows shakily and stares back.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, no, it's okay. You're okay. He had such a powerful hold, it's completely understandable to still be affected by it. He changed you, and you're doing a wonderful job recovering. And remember, Henrik, he messed with your head, and if the core that's you got shaken up by it, that's okay, he meant it to do that. You're okay, buddy.

“How much of who I am is him messing with my head?” whispers Henrik, burying his face in his hands. “How much of who I am is really me and how much is him? How much of him is really a monster and how much was real in the times when he made me think he loved me? How much of any of us is real? Are we just puppets? Was the person I was anything like this at all?”

Hermann looks helplessly over at Emmanuela, who, at this point, is mostly looking sad for him. Henrik hides from her pity and pretends the warmth against him is Trick’s.

“Can I see?” she asks.

“Inside my head?”

“Yes.”

“Could you if I said no?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t.”

Henrik stares down at the floor, exhausted, his heart still pounding so hard it hurts. He chokes on a sob and tears come drizzling down his face. What a mess he is. What a mess he’s always been, long as he can remember.

“Can you help me get my memories back?” he asks in a croak.

“Maybe,” she says. “It depends on the way the monster took them.”

He looks up at her, startled.

“What, really?”

“No clue til I try.”

Hermann is rubbing soothingly at his knee. Henrik glances over at him, meeting the calm trust in his eyes. Henrik looks up at you, nervous.

“Okay,” he says softly, clutching you to his chest. “But if you try anything, they’ll tell me!”

Emmanuela chuckles, soft and low.

Hermann leaves them alone in the room. Henrik feels awkward staring up at her, and a little afraid.

“What is this going to answer for me?” he asks in a croak.

“Well,” says Emmanuela. “How much of his control was ever voluntary for you. How he got in your head, which might, in turn let us know how to get him out. How real some of the things you’ve believed are. What happened to your memories - locked away in your brain or just destroyed.”

Henrik laughs and tugs on his hair, shaking his head slowly. “Well, fuck,” he says. “That might be too many answers.”

“Just take it easy,” she says. “Close your eyes.”

“I feel very stupid,” he admits.

She laughs without mocking him. He closes his eyes.

Here are some things that are true.

Henrik von Schneeplestein did not for a moment choose Anti. He did not agree. He was not convinced. Even more so than Blue, he was shoved down this rabbit hole; he was broken in half and then rebuilt. The remnant of that time makes old scars tingle along his body, burns and cuts and bones ever-so-slightly out of place. Anti told him he didn’t know how he got them. Probably from the old master, he said. Probably from that old and painful life. Briefly, Henrik feels the ghost of a memory, staring across at Trick before he was Trick, the two of them whispering encouragement as the days went by, until at last Henrik shattered, and Trick fell down with him.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti falsified all of it in the beginning. The feeling of fondness towards him. The feeling of safety. The lie of the danger outside. There was no one coming for them, except old friends who missed them, or at least what few of their old friends who remained alive. Henrik had people he loved and he forgot them. Henrik loved Jameson and Jackie and Marvin and he forgot that too. Things changed as time went on. Dok loved Anti. Dok loves Anti.

Anti has, at moments - at small, fleeting moments, loved him too. Earnestly and truly. There is a bullet scar in Dok’s side that will never go away, but the only reason he survived it at all was because of the great black dog that guarded him from their enemies. The great black dog that took bullet after bullet for him, and saw a dozen possible futures at Dapper’s hands, and chose the one where Doktor did not die. There were moments where he would look over at him and think, at least, ‘he is something worth loving.’

Selfish love, sometimes, but at moments, present.

For the most part, however, Anti has not loved him, not slightly, not well, not enough, and that was a choice he made. Killing Henrik was an act of revenge, and from there, Dok has been tortured again and again by the hatred of the monster he came to call his brother, and it isn’t fair, and it wasn’t loving, and the brotherhood between them is, if real, a terrible, terrible curse to him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti is jealous and Henrik’s memories are gone, permanently. Not locked away. Not hidden. Destroyed. Powerful magic. Powerful theft. Henrik will never remember that old life. Only glimpses of it, ghosts of it. Emmanuela searches and Henrik sees distant things - a house in the middle of the forest. The disappearance of a little brother. The flight from home. His brothers around him. Chase. But these are empty gaps where memories once were, not things recalled.

Here is one thing that is true.

“He’s entangled himself completely in your family,” says Emmanuela. “In your mind.”

Dok loves Anti. Henrik loves Anti. He does, he does. Despite everything. Despite the false foundation.

“He made it seem real,” she says. “Because the family between the rest of you was real. As time went on, you lost the ability to distinguish between the intruder and the reality. And he just became another brother. Flawed, maybe, but so were all of you. A bad temper, you said. You couldn’t see that he wasn’t real. Because if he wasn’t, than what does that make the rest of it? False as well? You knew it like this: ‘I love Trick and Trick loves me, truly and fully. Anti gave Trick to me. Anti must love us too, truly and fully, or wouldn’t that mean Trick didn’t love me too?’“

Henrik tries to breathe, burying his face in his hands. He did not feel her in his head, but he felt the remnants of so many things he’s forgotten or tried to forget. Grief and anger and hurt and pain and happy things, too, but less of them, not as many as there should have been.

“He is a talented manipulator,” she says. “More powerful and skilled than anyone I’ve ever come into contact with. I don’t know - Henrik, I’m sorry - I don’t know how you’ll convince yourself fully that he really is as bad as all that. No matter what I show you, no matter how much time you have, he will still be buried in there by virtue of his power. This web - I don’t know how to break it. You love your brothers and your brothers love you. Anti is caught up in the middle of that, hiding in the subconscious, unable to be ratted out without ratting the real love out too. It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’re just wrong about him,” Henrik sobs. “You have to be, if he seems so real!”

“Henrik… this is what I mean. No matter how much you cling to him, you know, logically, what’s real. You saw him hurt your magician that night. He could have killed him. You’ve seen him lock your little brother away in his room for months on end. You’ve seen him twist the others into things they never wanted to be. You’ve been hurt by him yourself, medico. You know. You know.”

“But I still love him,” says Henrik.

“Yes,” says Emmanuela, very soft. “That’s a normal part of abuse, but… I don’t think that this will go away normally.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” says Henrik.

He tries to breathe. He’s got this. He’s fine. He’s a motherfucking certified genius, he can figure this shit out.

“Here are my options,” he says. “One - I run away and I stay gone and not only does Anti hunt me for the rest of my life, but I’ll always feel attached to him as long as I’m attached to the others, who, as far as I will know, will continue to be tortured by Anti.”

Emmanuela just watches him. She will let him make his own choices.

“Or, two - I find a way to disentangle Anti from my family. Not just my image of my family, but the whole of my family. Realizing, logically, that he is a horrible son of a bitch has so far proved useless. I still know that I love the others, and they love Anti, or at least some of them do, and as long as that’s true, he’ll always be buried in there somewhere. I can’t escape him alone. None of us can. So to get away from him, I’d have to - ”

He stops short, staring at the wall.

Looking up at last.

“We’re… all going to have to turn on him together,” he says. “Aren’t we?”

Emmanuela looks at him. She has endless eyes. Her dark hair gleams.

“Yes,” she says. “I think so.”

He sits back on his chair. Staring at that wall. Stained glass windows at the side of it. Letting in the light, but letting it in blood red.

“Impossible,” he says. “Impossible.”

“No,” she says, reaching out to touch his hand. “It isn’t. It’s just a fight, Henrik. And you’re going to have to fight it. With them. Not alone anymore. With your brothers. Stop watching each other get hurt and stand together. Find your family again. The real one. You don’t have to surrender.”

Blood red streaks across him. Light and color and the blank face of the wall. The closed door waiting to be opened.

“I need to see Anti again,” he says, very soft.

“To fight?” she asks. “Or to give up?”

He doesn’t answer.

She leans back in her desk, her eyes faintly gold.

“I’ll make preparations for if you choose to leave,” she says. “I’ll give you weapons. Protection. Anything I can. It’s your choice, Henrik.”

He walks back to his room alone, and sits on the bed, and stares at the wall.

Here is a truth, a great truth, greater than anything else that he knows, great enough, he thinks, perhaps, to fight for:

He wants to be free, and bring his family with him.

But it will not be easy.

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

aether-mae asked: Hen, when Anti comes, I want you to keep this time in mind. Keep in mind how you are safe and happy with the magicians, and remind yourself you are bringing this contentment to trick. Bring trick away from Anti so he can enjoy this with you.

You can find him in the sunlight.

They’re playing a partnered card game that involves slapping your hand down on the cards faster than everyone else, coming up with secret signals to communicate, and a lot of wild giggling, especially from JP and Nina, losing it on his right side. He’s sitting down against the wall with one arm around her shoulders and one arm around her rounded belly and their black hair is glowing in the light. Henrik tugs you closer to him at the beeping, but he’s distracted by the chattering of Genesis and Hermann and Basilio, who is eagerly perched in Henrik’s lap, trying to slap the cards every single time a new one falls.

“You have to wait for a sandwich of cards,” laughs Henrik, dragging his little hand back again. “Like, maybe an eight and then something else and then another eight. A sandwich.”

“Que?”

“You have to - haha, you’ll learn, you’ll figure it out.”

Basilio slaps the cards again and Henrik breaks down into laughter.

Loud laughter. Loud, deep from the bottom of his chest. His head falls back and his eyes squint up and his shoulders shake with it.

And he catches your message out of the corner of his eye, and pauses to read it, and fuck, fuck.

He has to fight, doesn’t he?

He has to fight for Trick to have this.

If he’s going back -

The sun is golden on him. His skin fits him right. There is a child laughing on his lap and friends around him.

If he’s going back, he’s going back to fight.

He has to bring this joy back to his brothers.

He strokes Basilio’s dark hair and -

“Sandwich!”

- slaps the cards.

“Henrik,” groans a chorus of accented voices at him as he collects the cards he’s won, and he’s laughing again, and he’s warm, and Hermann’s hand comes down on his own just for a moment as if to say, ‘yes, brother, here we are.’

Anonymous asked: I don't think you need to figure out exactly who you were under his control, because I think the lines were blurred enough that we might never quite know. People do things they wouldn't usually to survive, and to protect themselves, and I do not think you can be faulted for things he made you do. And as you begin to come back, we can begin to figure out who you are now.

They devolve into sitting around and kicking a football around eventually, Henrik sitting on the sidelines and drinking beer with JP as Genesis and Hermann play monkey in the middle with Basilio.

“It’s kind of frightening,” he tells you, though he says it calmly. “Knowing that I have to find myself again. Knowing that I will never be that same person I was. But I think I want it. I think that’s something I want to stand up for. For my chance to be Henrik, and not just here, sheltered away from him. For my chance to be Henrik again in all things.”

“That’s the good part about it,” says Nina, turning to smile at him. “You go through so much you don’t know how to get back that person that you used to be, but then… then you get to choose the person you become. And that person becomes someone who is a survivor despite everything. A fighter despite everything. You choose strength and it shapes you.”

She smiles softly at the brick beneath her feet, turning her head to gaze at her husband, stroking her hand along her belly.

“Every day,” she says, touching Henrik’s shoulder. “We’re choosing. It’s okay to make new choices. Okay to be a different person. Every day a new person. I think that’s what’s really beautiful about being a person at all.”

aether-mae asked: Henrik! My lovely fellow. Red and Dap are on their way to you, without Anti and with no intention to return to Anti (as of yet). Is there any way you know of that could bring you to them faster or would you like to wait for them?

“What’s this? Red?”

“Hermann!”

Emmanuela’s coming up the stairs, beckoning for him. He hurries over to her and they exchange a few soft words. She presses something into his hands and leaves again.

Hermann stares down at it for a second. Holds it in his hands.

“Henrik,” he calls, trying to steady his voice, turning back towards him with a smile, holding a phone. “It’s for you.”

“It’s what?” Henrik gets onto his feet. Hermann just holds the phone out to him.

Henrik puts it to his ear.

Soft breathing, shy and nervous. Soft mumbling in the background. Soft shuffling and a deep breath.

“Dok?”

Henrik’s heart is a bird uncaged.

“Red! Oh, oh, I - I - is it you, is it? Bruder, is est du? How, how, Red, Red, I - ”

Red is stammering and babbling and stumbling just as much as he is on the other end of the line, his voice hoarse and shaking.

“We used the cameras, Max sent his phone number to them - I didn’t think it would work, thought it was a trick, fuck, Dok, is it you?”

“It’s me, it’s me! Red! I didn’t know if you were alright, I didn’t know if you were in prison… tell me something only you would know!”

“I - I, um. For Christmas this year, Trick got you coffee.”

Henrik bursts into laughter without knowing why, gripping his hair. “Red, Red!”

“Dap’s here too - he says your favorite book is the Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder and he loves you and he says you better believe it’s him, he loves you, he loves you - ”

“Oh, my little brother, is he well? Put him on the phone, I need to - no, wait - ”

It’s Red’s turn to laugh, and then they’re just having a breakdown together two countries away, listening to each other’s voices, chattering everything that comes to mind, and Henrik can hear Dapper clicking and striking his hands together at Red’s side.

“Dok, we want to come get you.”

“You want to come get me?”

“Yes. Yeah. We’ve got a car. We’re headed your way. Dok, I have to see you again. I can’t take all of us being separated anymore. I don’t know how we would have survived without the help we found.”

“Well, that I understand,” chokes out Henrik, gripping that phone like it’s keeping his head above water. “Red, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes. Come get me. I need to see you. My brothers. I love you.”

He didn’t mean to make Red’s voice shake even harder. He thinks he hears tears in his eyes. His strong older brother crying just for him.

“Where can I find you, Deutsch?”

“The market,” Henrik answers immediately. “Where we bought coffee and polar bear shirts and dog tags and rings. Red. Bruder, hermano, my friend. Come get me.”

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

Anonymous asked: Hold on just a while longer Blue- No, not blue, Marvin. Hold on just a little while longer. The missing brothers are free. I don't think anything anti does could convince them to come back to him at this point. Anti has enemies that will take him down in this weak state. Almost there you strong, wonderful magician. Protect Chase, protect yourself, I can't make promises but I feel the end to your pain is on the horizon. Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

He sleeps every night now with his arms wrapped tight around Trickshot. They tangle up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

The end of your pain is on the horizon.

He curls his body around Trick’s. As if he can protect him. At the least, he has to try. His fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. Trick squirms closer to him in his sleep, mumbling and throwing his arms around him, entangling their legs. Noodle readjusts to sit nearly on his face.

They would not begrudge you the quick look in on them as they slept. You are, after all, a beacon of safety - for Trick, a sign that Anti watches over him; for Blue, a steady ally against everything that hurts him. A friend.

It is late, though. How long will you watch him? How many of you are looking on? Everything is still. Have you often peered at the silence of them? At the little moments, where nothing exists but the hand of their brother clasped in their own? Loyal watcher. You see things they do not always see. It is late, though. Will you go to sleep? Who taught you to watch so vigilantly? You remember the things the rest of the world has forgotten - glitches and Silent Nights and white string and comas. You remember things that never happened, because Jameson undid them.

The watchful few. The handful of you. It is late, though. Will you sleep?

Movement in their window.

A shadow, at first. Pausing. Casting a low shade of darkness over what little light comes in through their window.

The shadow shifts.

Closer.

And then there is a silhouette in their window. The silhouette of a person.

They do not know you’re there. They do not know you see.

They come close to the window. Cast that black and impenetrable shadow down over Trick and Blue, asleep on their mattress. The perfect outline of a person looking down at them. For a moment, they only stare down at them. Unmoving. Cold.

They move away again. You think they wear a cape. No. You think they have the wings of a bird. In the moonlight, a flicker of gold.

Trick and Blue sleep. Tangled up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

Loyal watcher. It is late, though.

How long will you watch?

How long will the shadow?

End Section Nine of Chapter Three: The Separated Twins

#chapter three #writers of jack

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muggle-writes · 5 years

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Writeblr WIP Blind Date

I’m always happy for an excuse to interact with more writeblrs. I’m surprising myself by choosing one of my fics that hasn’t actually been posted to AO3 yet (and that I’m still working on an actual plot for) because I just really like the premise and I love the characters

Title of your WIP: No title yet, but I mostly call it the chaos friendship fic.

The real title, when I decide on one, will either be a pun on books or magic or academia, or it will be a quote from wtnv (or from love is all you need to destroy your enemies) in the style of titles for fics in that series.

Genre: fanfiction, crackfic, crossover, friendship centric, humorous tone, world-saving adventures?

(Crossover between: Harry Potter and a fic that is itself a crossover between Welcome to Night Vale and The Dresden Files)

Trigger Warnings: n/a so far, (probably canon typical violence)

Stage of writing process: “Lol Hermione and Julie would be such great friends I’d love to read about them interacting ...dang I guess I have to write that myself”

actually I’ve come up with the premise of why they’ve met in the first place, and written the middle third of a first chapter to lead them into interacting, but I’m stuck on what the plot should be, which is complicated by the fact that the few ideas I’ve had for plot directions require more knowledge than I actually have about the various magical government(s)/faerie courts of the Dresden Files universe to determine whether they’re both plausible and feasible.

Synopsis: replacing this with Background because, as stated above, I have a premise for this fic but not so much a plot. 1-3 are genuinely background, and 4-7 are as close as I have to a story arc:

(1) MACUSA actually only controls the original 13 colonies (and the white council large parts of north america, though between the two groups they still probably don’t govern all magical people in the continent*)

(2) the ICW refuses to acknowledge that any magical government borders might not align with muggle/nomaj/mundane government borders, so MACUSA is the only government from within the muggle United States that gets invited/pressured to join the Statute of Secrecy

(3) There are repeated violations of the statute of secrecy reported in a particular town in the southwest of the united states

(4) Hermione Granger, famous and influential as she is in the aftermath of all of Harry’s adventures, is nominated as the representative to go and scold MACUSA for not controlling their citizens better

(5) Hermione gets to MACUSA and they treat her politely, but they firmly and immediately explain that they’re not responsible, and then set her up with a portkey to Night Vale, where the violations have been

(6) Hermione promptly gets caught in the storm wards, since she arrived by magic. Julie and Carlos and at least one other scientist show up almost immediately - they’re studying the storm wards to make sure they’re behaving as intended

(7) and then Hermione and Julie become friends (after what incident that forces them to work together???) and then do something cool (but what????? idk yet)

Character information: this is listed as a crossover between a fic series and a book series, rather than between two book series and a podcast, because Julie is an OC (effectively) from the fic series (does it count if none of “Carlos’ scientists” are named? they do technically exist in canon, but with basically no detail, at least in the first two or three years).

My fic will focus on Hermione’s (bookworm, ruthless when necessary, a few years ago saved wizarding Britain from a terrorist along with her friends Harry and Ron) friendship with Julie (PhD, practical theoretical physicist, made a "science gun” and disassembled it for ethical reasons after killing a vampire with it, makes frequent pop culture references including teasing Carlos about having a wizard friend named Harry... yes her knowledge of the Harry Potter books will be addressed), with appearances from Carlos and the rest of dave’s characters, and probably some other night vale citizens, and maybe (if I borrow dave’s or my wife’s familiarity with dresden files canon) certain members of the white council.

Mainly just the girls and their friendship though.

Links: I could have sworn I included the drafty partial first chapter in this, but it’s just another outline. ...if I can’t find a better link to edit in to this post, I might just add what I have of prose for this fic to the bottom of that google doc

There is a brief excerpt in this post as well (on my main blog, from before I made a separate writeblr sideblog) under the heading “Chaotic Friendship crossover”

There’s also a summary in my WIP Masterpost but I’ve said everything relevant with more detail in this post.

WIP tag: Uh. You can also see all two of my posts that I’ve got tagged ‘chaos friendship fic’ and I could have sworn there were more but I can’t find them to add them to the tag...

Other WIP Information:

*Along with background point (1) under synopsis/background, I have a loose but persistent idea about indigenous wizards/mages/tribe-specific titles warding large swaths of land to be unplottable and heavily defended, and taking as many members (especially nonmagical, as magical people could defend themselves a bit better and also let themselves in later) of their tribes, as feasible into protected lands once it became obvious that white nonmagical people were determined to wipe out everyone else (and members of rival tribes were accepted into each others’ spaces peacefully when colonists continued to get worse; uniting against a common enemy)... with the idea that the trail of tears and similar events had significantly less deaths (whether the deaths were faked, or whether white muggles were confunded to not notice/brush off the mass disappearances, or...?), and the people “lost” were taken into protected lands that white nonmagical people can’t get into at all, and that white magical people will be fiercely fought against ....and I was going to look for a sensitivity reader if that headcanon became a bigger part of this fic because I’m white and I’ll 300% need it and it’s still just a half-developed side detail that may or may not make it into this fic, but I’m sure will eventually make it into one of my fics that’s set in both the Harry Potter universe and the USA. (If not this one, then probably my MCU/HP crossover. I just really don’t like the pottermore/word of god info about magical society in the americas, and I haven’t seen Fantastic Beasts and even if I cared about FB canon, even though MACUSA is in charge, those are mostly set in new york city (and Europe apparently?), so that doesn’t contradict my “MACUSA is only in the 13 colonies” detail)

Definitely going with the joke “JK Rowling is actually Rita Skeeter, just selling to a new audience that won’t realize she’s telling the truth or when she’s stretching it” as another background fact, but I don’t think the characters will ever figure out exactly who is masquerading as Rowling.

Constructive criticism: Yes? Tentatively? I mean this is intended to be crackfic, where characterization matters but realistic plot not so much. So keep that intended tone in mind when offering concrit, but at this point I think I’ll welcome any (polite) feedback on this story even if it’s negative. (just try not to be purely negative, yeah? Long term I appreciate concrit, but short term it’ll bother me disproportionately, even when I asked for it, and triply so if it’s not balanced)

#wip blind date info #chaos friendship fic

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geeky-imagine-prompts · 7 years

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Meet Your Patient

Hey guys! So this is my first imagine ever! I’m so excited! I hope you guys enjoy it because I absolutely love the Batfamily! The prompt is loosely based off of an OC I was writing for a fanfiction, but I changed it up to match the reader’s POV If you have any requests, I will do it if I’m part of the fandom. If you have any constructive criticisms, please tell me what I can do (just please don’t be mean! It breaks my heart! I love doing this)! A little backstory is that you are a psychologist contracted by Arkham Asylum when Bruce Wayne contacts you—he wants you to help his son, Jason, whose… been through a lot. Hope you enjoy!

__________________________________________________

You knocked on the door of Wayne Manor, waiting patiently for the door to open. Jason had missed the every scheduled meeting with you, and it wasn’t going to happen anymore. If he wouldn’t come to you, you were going to him.

The door opened, and you looked up with (e/c) eyes to see a formally dressed man with a receding hairline at the door.

“Hello, sir,” you said with a polite smile. “I’m here for Jason Todd. He had missed multiple scheduled appointments made by Mister Wayne, so I thought I would talk to him in a more comfortable environment for him.”

“Of course,” the man at the door said, stepping aside to allow you inside. “You must be Doctor (y/l/n), Master Todd’s psychiatrist. I am Alfred Pennyworth. I help take care of the manor and the Wayne family. If you need anything while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to call for me.”

“Thank you, Mister Pennyworth,” you said with another kind smile.

“Oh, please,” he said with a small chuckle. “Call me Alfred.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alfred turned toward the stairs. “I’ll fetch Master Todd for you. There is a sitting room just off to the right of the stairs. I’ll show you the way.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” you assured him with a small smile. “I can find my way.”

“Very well,” Alfred said with a small smile of his own.

You strolled calmly into the sitting room where you would wait on Jason, to talk to him like you were hired to do, to help him like you wanted to do. You weren’t sure why he was so against getting the help he must’ve known he needed the help, how much easier it was to get through what he was going through when he could share it with someone. The only explanation that you could fathom was that he was just too stubborn to accept help.

You heard something down the hall that sounded like a frustrated young man being pushed down the hallway with no lack of resistance

“No, I don’t want to—! Alfred, I’m not talking to this crotchety old—!”

Jason stumbled through the doorway, or at least you assumed it was Jason. He was young, looking to be in his early or mid twenties at the oldest. His black hair was messy, and had a strange white piece at his forehead. His blue eyes shined with a light of defiance at being forced into his situation before they seemed to widen in surprise at the sight of you.

Apparently he wasn’t expecting someone so close to his age.

But the defiance alight in his gaze never faded. He wasn’t planning on making this easy.

Luckily, you were just as stubborn. You worked at Arkham Asylum with some of the most dangerous people in the country, nevertheless in Gotham. You could get things out of people in ways that made them think they weren’t telling a thing.

“Hello, Jason,” you said in your most polite and professional tone. “I’m Doctor (y/l/n). You were missing all of our scheduled appointments at my office, so I determined that it wasn’t the right place for us to meet. A home visit was the best conclusion, rather than continuing to waste my time and Mister Wayne’s money.”

Jason seemed startled at the amount of sass you had concealed in your polite and professional tone. “I… You’re kidding, right? I don’t want this. I don’t want to talk to you. I am fine.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright. We don’t have to talk about you right away.”

He grumbled under his breath before he finally dropped across from you on the couch, making himself comfortable in the most vulgar way possible. One leg was tossed over the arm of the couch and the other on the coffee table between you, his arms thrown over the back.

You looked up from neatening your notes to see his sitting position with a frown. “Could you please close your legs? I’d rather not look at your crotch the entire hour we’re here.”

Jason’s eyebrows raised before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure he remember any woman ever telling him something like that, telling him no. He slowly lifted his leg off of the couch arm and crossed his ankles on the coffee table. He was still frowning, careful not to answer any questions that might lead into a conversation about him.

He didn’t need this. He wanted to get under her skin, scare her off. She wasn’t going to be able to get in his head that easy.

Just you wait, Doc, Jason swore to himself. You’ll be gone in a week.

“So,” you said, crossing your ankles neatly when you looked back up to Jason. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me? I’m open to anything.”

“Why are you here?” He grumbled unapologetically.

“At the mansion or in a session with you?”

“Both.”

“I’m at the manor because you never came to our scheduled appointments together at my office, and I do have patients that could need me more than you, so I needed you to stop wasting the time allotted for us. I haven’t dropped you as a patient yet because the moment I leave this room, I will me handed a check with several zeroes.”

Jason snorted, his blue eyes meeting your (e/c) gaze. “Ah, so you became a doctor for the same reason as everyone else—the money.”

You knew what he was trying to do. Throw you off, make you so uncomfortable that you didn’t want to return. “Actually,” you replied patiently. “I became a doctor because I’ve always been fascinated by the mind, and I wanted to help people understand their own so they could work through their problems in the most healthy way.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Why the hell would you want to go and do something like that?”

Your answer was simple. “I’ve always enjoyed helping people. And I’ve always been in touch with my emotions, and been able to help the people around me with theirs. I want to help people be the best they can be, and I want to understand what influences different minds to react how they do—it’s why I took my job at Arkham.”

He nodded slowly. “And you think I need help?”

“I think you need to decide if you want to be helped.”

#jason todd #imagine #jason todd imagine #batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #batfamily #jason todd x you

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124globalsociology · 4 years

Text

Methodological Whiteness

Author: Anna Duley

Explanation

Methodological Whiteness “is a way of reflecting on the world that fails to acknowledge the role played by race in the very structuring of that world, and of the ways in which knowledge is constructed and legimitated within it.” This concept was first mentioned by Gurminder K. Bhambara, a professor of Postcolonial and Decolonial studies at the University of Sussex, in her article about “Brexit, Trump, and ‘methodological whiteness:’ on the misrecognition of race and class.” She uses this term to discuss how whiteness has been normalized and become invisible to those that are privileged but not by those who are oppressed and suffer under this system. This term has not been created to center white voices but to recognize how our world has been constructed under white supremacy, the lack of recognition of the long-lasting effects of colonialism, and the current system of neo-colonialism. As we engage in our education, it is important to keep this theory in mind as we come into contact with knowledge. Education has been created to be Eurocentric and benefit white people. In her dissertation “Interrupting the Silence: A Critical Discourse Analysis of A Pilot Seminar on Racism, Intersectionality, and White Privilege”, Angela Lynn Putman writes that, “If discussions of race continue to remain absent from everyday discourse, especially by many whites, the invisibility of privilege will only be perpetuated…White privilege is reproduced through textbook and instructional content and authors’ perspectives to the content, featuring a preponderance of white European American norms…” Having a term for this phenomenon is important in the first steps towards understanding how our world has been constructed.

As students in Global Sociology, we must remember to be critical of the education that we are receiving. Ask yourselves:

Who is at the center of the story? Who is missing from the story? Who benefits from the story that is in place?

(Source: UC Berkeley American Ethnic Studies Facebook Page)

What are some key arguments and controversies within this theory?

When talking about methodological whiteness, one might argue that identifying this concept is centering whiteness. However, this is not the case; by identifying and creating the term for methodological whiteness, we are starting the conversation about the history, politics, and education of whiteness. Being able to name the practice of historically baking white supremacy and racism into the institutions that hold this world together is necessary and vital.

One other controversy surrounding this term is that methodological whiteness is a U.S.-centric way of thinking. Some may argue that because this is an idea born from looking at U.S. society, it is a problem that solely affects the U.S. It is important to remember that capitalism and white supremacy is a global phenomenon that sprang from colonialism and imperialism. Interestingly, the study of whiteness has been highlighted and studied in the U.S. yet in my research, it was hard to locate resources and materials that discuss methodological whiteness in Western countries excluding the U.S. Perhaps this was an issue of terminology; nonetheless, we must come together and acknowledge that methodological whiteness is an international issue that can be found and applied to any subject. Malcolm X, in his address at Corn Hill Methodist Church titled Not Just An American Problem, But A World Problem, spoke about how narratives have been built to allow white people to remain as a hegemony and how the U.S. is not alone in its racism. In addition, he touches upon how the media is used to construct negative tropes of people of color and becomes normalized in the psyche. He advocates for changing the use of the term “civil rights” into “human rights” so that it goes from being a domestic issue to becoming an international one.

“No one is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them. Nobody is going to teach you your true history, teach you your true heroes, if they know that that knowledge will help set you free.”

-Assata Shakur

How does methodological whiteness contribute to war ? What role has methodological whiteness played in the construction of international institutions?

W.E.B DuBois mentions in his piece, The African Roots in War, how the erasure of the importance of Africa in the narrative of how World War I started has centered the agenda of white Europeans, while invisibilizing the violence that was enacted on Africans and the effects that have carried forth since then. Reasons for World War I that are commonly taught in classrooms have normalized the behavior of colonialists and imperialists and somewhat justified their actions. Malcolm X also talks about how the media warps the image of non-Western countries to make them look like “hoodlums, criminals, thieves..” when Western countries are at war and are at fault. He brings up the example of when U.S. pilots bombed villages in Congo in the ‘60s and justified their actions saying it was “in the name of liberty” and for “humanitarian reasons.” These excuses are believed by the general public because it has become legitimized knowledge that democratic countries know what is right and we should not challenge this notion. Methodological whiteness is especially important when analyzing the construction of international institutions. For example, the United Nations was built on Westphalian policies. Moreover, the nation-states that have the most power in the Security Council are the victors of a world war that other nation-states could not fight in because they were left economically and socially corrupt by a majority of those same countries. Indigenous politics have brought to attention how Western the United Nations is and how there is not only one way to run an intergovernmental organization

Related Concepts - Constructivism, Post Colonialism, Critical Race Theory, Transnational Ethnic Studies, Afro-Futurism

Important Scholars:

Gurminder K. Bhambara

(Source: Greenbelt)

A link to her website can be found here

W.E.B DuBois

(Source: GVSHP)

Malcolm X

(Source: Boston Review)

Discussion Questions:

What role has race played in structuring the world?

Where can we find examples of methodological whiteness in our world today?

How can we begin to decolonize education and evaluate the role race has played in education?

What does a decolonized education look like? What does a decolonized world look like?

Works Cited :

Bhambra, Gurminder. “Methodological Whiteness.” GLOBAL SOCIAL THEORY, Creative Commons, 5 Dec. 2017, globalsocialtheory.org/concepts/methodological-whiteness/.

Bhambra, Gurminder K. “Postcolonial Reflections on Sociology.” Sociology, vol. 50, no. 5, Oct. 2016, pp. 960–966, doi:10.1177/0038038516647683.

Bhambra, Gurminder K. “Why Are the White Working Classes Still Being Held Responsible for Brexit and Trump?” LSE BREXIT, The London School of Economics and Political Science, 8 Nov. 2017, blogs.lse.ac.uk/brexit/2017/11/10/why-are-the-white-working-classes-still-being-held-responsible-for-brexit-and-trump/.

Charbeneau, Jessica M. Enactments of Whiteness in Pedagogical Practice: Reproducing and Transforming White Hegemony in the University Classroom, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 2009. https://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/handle/2027.42/62431.

Croll, Paul R. A New Look at Racial Attitudes in America: Incorporating Whiteness by Examining White Privilege, University of Minnesota, Ann Arbor, 2008. [google book link]

Henderson, Errol A. “Hidden in Plain Sight: Racism in International Relations Theory.” Cambridge Review of International Affairs, vol. 26, no. 1, Mar. 2013, pp. 71–92. doi:10.1080/09557571.2012.710585.

Oliver, Lawrence J. “The Making and Unmaking of Whiteness / Out of Whiteness: Color, Politics, and Culture.” Callaloo, vol. 25, no. 4, 2002, pp. 1272-1278. ProQuest, https://ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/docview/233171582?accountid=15051.

Putman, Angela L. Interrupting the Silence: A Critical Discourse Analysis of a Pilot Seminar on Racism, Intersectionality, and White Privilege, The University of New Mexico, Ann Arbor, 2014. ProQuest, https://ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/docview/1563364524?accountid=15051.

Walker, Thomas E. Strategic Ambiguity in the Communication of Whiteness, Arizona State University, Ann Arbor, 2010. ProQuest, https://ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/docview/761654700?accountid=15051.

White Logic, White Methods : Racism and Methodology, edited by Tukufu Zuberi, and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2008. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral-proquest-com.ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/lib/willamette/detail.action?docID=1343788.

Working through Whiteness : International Perspectives, edited by Cynthia Levine-Rasky, State University of New York Press, 2002. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral-proquest-com.ezproxy.app.willamette.edu/lib/willamette/detail.action?docID=3407895.

X, Malcolm. “Not Just An American Problem, But A World Problem. National Humanities Resource Center Toolbox. 16, February 1965. http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/maai3/community/text10/malcolmxworldproblem.pdf

A link to my google doc can be found here

Related concepts: Constructivism, Post Colonialism, Critical Race Theory, Transnational Ethnic Studies, Afro-Futurism

#constructivism #postcolonialism #critical race theory #methodological whiteness #whiteness #race #racism #education #transnational #ethnic studies #afro-futurism #public sociology #publicsociology #globalsociology #submission #malcolmx #decolonize

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toobah-z · 5 years

Text

small analogical drabble

i love this ship, i hope you guys enjoy this small thing ive made. I accept constructive criticism :D

summary: therapy with Logan. also soft hand holding uwu

It’s basically a fanfic but with bullet points.

trigger warnings: none! :D

Calm down.

Virgil would most likely be in a not so bad mood, but something like ‘I’m so done with today,’ mood after having another debate with Roman over Disney films.

Patton would be backing up Roman by agreeing that even though they had many dark messages, the good ones always outshone them.

Virgil would get somewhat pissed, yank his hoodie over his head, and flee to his room.

Or he’d like to think it was his room, if he had been looking at which door he had yanked open.

Instead of opening up to his dark, unsettling bedroom, he had been surprised to barge into a room filled with books and loose papers everywhere. Some of the papers even flew around the room, caused by the door opening so abruptly.

He would look to the corner of the room, seeing Logan calmly reading a book under his desk light.

“Yes, Roman?-“ Logan would glance up towards the emo looking side, his face shocked as he realized it was clearly not Roman.

Though his face quickly became calm once again, as it always is, “Ah, Virgil.” He spun around in his wheely chair, folding his hands together in a neat manner. “What can I do for you?”

Virgil couldn’t quite process that he had walked into Logan’s room, so it took him a second to respond.

“What- wait,” He shook his head, his facial expression reading that he was still annoyed from the debate from before. He then realized, “Sorry, I’ll leave. Opened the wrong door.” He replied in his usual mumbled down tone.

As Virgil was about to close the door, Logan pointed out something. “You seem to be quite agitated, judging by that your hood is up,” He pointed out, then continued to look right into the others eyes. He raised a brow. “Mainly your facial features give it away, though.”

At that remark, Virgil immediately pulled down his hood, anxiously twiddling with the strings from his hoodie. Forgetting about leaving, He narrowed his eyes towards Logan. “Your point?”

He sighed, crossing his legs while he sat at the desk chair. “My point, Is that something is clearly bothering you. Would you like to elaborate?”

Virgil shook his head. “No, i’m fine.” He stated, still fiddling with the strings. “Don’t wanna bother you, whatever you’re doing.” He whispered quietly, almost inaudible. He was about to close the door again, but he got interrupted once more.

“V, we’ve talked about letting your feelings out. Remember?” He crossed his arms. Logan really wanted to help Virgil. He hated to admit it, but he really did get concerned when he found the side hurting or troubled in some way. His over analyzation results in him noticing it more often than the others, and it started to grow on him over time.

Virgil breathed out through his nose slightly, nodding his head while looking down. Logan indeed had small sessions with him about how to control his anxiety, and how to relate with others. Including talking about your feelings when you feel upset or alone. It helped him immensely, but right now he just wasn’t in the mood.

Well, maybe.

Virgil huffed slightly, accepting defeat. He had lost to his own thoughts. He slowly walked over to the side of Logan’s bed that was nearest to the desk he was sitting at, his black docs clicking quietly on the polished, hardwood floor.

The anxious side flopped onto the bed, purple hair sprawled out on the bed’s soft pillow. He crossed his arms, feeling as if he were at a therapists office. Though, this specific therapist talked about emotions in a more logical sense.

Logan uncrossed his arms, fixed his glasses and gave the other side one of his infamous small smirks. “So, I am assuming whatever made you upset happened recently, correct?” Logan asked, very proud of Virgil for at least trying to open up with him.

Anxiety hugged his arms to his chest more, responding. “Yeah... S’just Roman and Patton being stupid...” He gave one of his many frowny faces.

Logan nodded, “Argument?”

Virgil nodded back, “I know, it’s stupid.” He grumbled, his hands now hiding his face. “I get annoyed and anxious at little things like Disney movies! It’s unfair, I don’t know how you guys can’t deal with this stuff, seriously!” He ranted, expressing all of his concerns.

“It’s just... I don’t feel like I fit in.” He explained, less forward now. “You all have different views on things compared to me, it’ll all just not work out.” He sighed, now sitting up on the bed, curling into a ball. His arms were wrapped around his legs.

Logan nodded, showing that he understood. He put himself in Virgil’s shoes, and yes, it would most likely make him anxious due to being different from the others, and himself. As dumb as it might sound.

Anxiety ranted a bit more, and Logic silently listened to him. He knew he needed to be heard. Everyone did at some point.

After a while, as Virgil was still ranting on and on, nonsense at this point. He started to slow down though, his voice sounding tired. Logan stood up, deciding it was enough, and put a hand on the others shoulder.

“Verge, I know you might feel overwhelmed by how you feel the others and myself might think of you sometimes, but, you understand we do love you, right?”

Virgil glanced up to Logan for a moment, averting his gaze back down right after. He looked solemn.

“Just because they might have a different view on something, doesn’t mean they.. hate you for it. Do you understand?” The logical side cupped the anxious sides face gently, adjusting it so they were looking at one another.

Virgil was calm at this action, as he was most comfortable with Logan. Though he couldn’t help that his blood was rushing to his face, a light red shade dusting over his cheeks.

“Yes, I understand.” He replied, not able to take his eyes off the other. His deep, brown, chocolate eyes held him captive. He felt drowsy as he looked into Logan’s eyes, as if whenever he was with him he became calm, almost numb to his anxious feelings.

Logan gave a small smile, an uncommon sight, to say the least. “Feeling this way is only temporary, it’ll all fade away in the morning, V.” Logan’s hand that was once on the others cheek dropped softly.

Virgil breathed out from his nose again, this time a calming feeling flooding over him. Was it his room that made him this way? Was he tired from all of this stupid stuff from today? He didn’t know.

“L,” Virgil said almost unconsciously. He held out his hand, waiting for Logan to take it.

The other stood confused for a second, but then realized as he studied the others face. He took Virgil’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

The anxious side smiled gently, his eyes now half closed. He blamed it on the lack of sleep he got, slowly drifting away into dreamland.

Logan noticed Virgil fall asleep, sighing to himself, then smiling softly once again. He was glad he could help him, in one way or another.

As he attempted to free his hand from Virgil’s soft grasp, the other twitched in his sleep, his grip tightening.

Logan sighed, holding on tight.

#sanders sides #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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joeybelle · 7 years

Text

Starlight - Chapter 12

Relationship: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Tags: Pre-Rogue One, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Foul Language

For the next few days she avoided Cassian like the plague, which wasn’t so hard to do since he was nowhere to be seen. Once or twice, she even feared he might have died from his concussion, but then she remembered that he had a thick skull, both literally and figuratively, so he was probably fine.

Both Doctor Crane and Lewella had relentlessly made fun of her for being locked in a maintenance closet, but luckily they didn’t know the whole story. She had no idea what they would say if they knew about the kiss, but she imagined Lewella would laugh her ass off before teasing her for the rest of her life, so she kept her mouth shut, smiling and accepting the current jokes, knowing it could be much, much worse. Even after almost a week had passed since ‘the incident’, Cora still had no idea how to feel about it.

She was lucky that the med bay had been busier than usual so she didn’t have much time to socialize. She didn’t know yet how awkward her meetings with Aidan would be now that he had voiced his intentions, so she was grateful for at least a few days in which they didn’t have to interact outside the workplace. She had a lot of things to deal with, and in her usual fashion, ignored them all.

Leaving work at 2 am when she had another shift starting early in the morning wasn’t something that unusual, but lately it had become the norm and she was starting to feel exhausted.

The underground level was a lot quieter than the rest of the base, the thick stone walls muffling almost all sound. The air was stagnant in the corridors, the new ventilation system not functional everywhere, most of the underground still relying on the original vents. The corridors were only lit from the elevators to her quarters and to the few storage areas located in the catacombs. The rest was pitch black and empty. Without her there, even the prison was deserted. It was a stark contrast to the crowded base above and Cora was thankful for the peace and quiet.

When her ears got used to the silence, she started noticing an unusual humming sound in the distance. It seemed to be coming from deeper in the catacombs, which wasn’t right, there wasn’t supposed to be anything there to make noise. She wondered if maybe there was someone working late in storage, but the sound didn’t come from the right direction.

Intrigued, she headed deeper in the catacombs for as long as she had light. Listening closely, it almost sounded like… music? There was no way someone was playing music in the temple’s underground levels. There was no one living down there and it was way too late for anyone to be working.

Curiosity got the best of her, so she turned on the small pocket light she always carried around and cautiously advanced into the unknown. She tried making as little sound as possible, letting the distant music guide her steps. It was possible that the fatigue was making the pursuit a lot more thrilling than it was, but Cora’s heart had started to beat rapidly. It was fun. She felt like a kid again, exploring the narrow vents on a star destroyer. Not even for a moment did she think that she may get lost without a way to contact anyone who could get her out. Right now, all that mattered was solving the mystery.

From time to time she had to stop and listen carefully, trying to head in the right direction. Sometimes, the corridors seemed to turn away from the sound, but it was getting louder, so she knew she was getting closer. She went down a set of stairs and couldn’t help but wonder just how deep the whole construction went. She made a mental note to ask someone about the history of the place one day.

It was definitely music. When she was close enough that she could make out the lyrics she stopped. She could hear people talking and laughing. It seemed like there was some gathering taking place deep in the catacombs. Music, laughter and probably drinks. She didn’t have to go any further and accidentally crash their party to prove her theory right. So she turned around, wanting to return to her quarters as quickly as possible because she had already wasted enough time, and crashed into someone.

“Whoa, there!” he said, catching her by the shoulders, steadying her before she face-planted. “Who are you?” He turned on a flashlight and shone it into her eyes for a few seconds before turning it off again. “Oh! You’re the new doctor!” he exclaimed, seeming a little amused.

Cora blinked a few times, her eyes hurting from the sudden exposure to light. “I’ve been here for a while now, why am I still ‘the new doctor’?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes vigorously. She couldn't see who she was talking to, but his voice was unfamiliar.

“Cause I haven’t met you yet,” he laughed. “Sergeant Ruescott Melshi, but call me Melshi.”

Nope, she didn’t know him. “Cora Enoch.”

“Now let’s hurry and get a drink before the bastards finish everything.” He placed a hand on her back trying to gently push her towards where the music was coming from. Cora was taken by surprise, so she took a few steps before stopping again.

“Umm…” She tried brushing off his hand. “I’m not coming, I’m sorry. I just heard the music and I was curious what it was, but I found out, so I’m turning back now…”

“Well, you’re already here, so why not come inside? This is the best makeshift bar in the whole base, after all,” he bragged.

“Ah, no thanks. I have an early shift tomorrow and I should be sleeping. Thank you for the invitation though,” she said, taking a step back, but he cut her off.

“Just one drink, Doctor. It will help you sleep better,” he didn’t give up and his insistence was starting to get a little irritating.

“I really shouldn’t…” she tried excusing herself, as politely as she could.

“You’re not getting away until you have at least one drink with us.”

“Why do you keep insisting?” she finally snapped.

“In case you get the idea of reporting us for drinking on base, I have to make sure you’ll go down with us.” His voice sounded a little ominous, but then he started laughing once again. “Don’t worry Doc, we don’t bite. Plus you already know some of us.”

Ok, that made sense. Sort of. She knew that drinking was restricted on the base, but she also knew that no one respected that rule, on the contrary, seeing how many hangovers she had to treat weekly. She had no intention to report anyone, they were free to do whatever they wanted in the end, but she understood his concerns so she stopped resisting and followed him down the dark corridor.

Light was pouring out of an open door, her flashlight suddenly useless. Her eyes had time to adjust to the brightness, so when she stepped into the well lit room she wasn’t blinded. It was a medium sized room, carved in stone like the rest of the ones Cora had seen in the catacombs. To the side there was a raised stone structure that, from the stools around it, she assumed they were using as a bar. There was an old jukebox in a corner, blaring some crappy galactic pop. There were a few tables and chairs scattered around the room, with most people crowded around one in the back. Every piece of furniture seemed to have been taken from the things no one needed in storage, pretty much like the ones in her room. There were no two tables looking the same, and everything looked improvised, from the bar stools to the lighting fixtures on the walls.

Melshi greeted a couple of people sitting at a table by the door then guided her towards the bar. Cora awkwardly climbed onto a stool, and propped her elbows on the stone table.

“So, what can I get you, miss?” he winked and went around the bar.

“What are my options?” she asked smiling. She had no plans to drink tonight, but she guessed she had to oblige just this once. If she was already here she could at least enjoy it.

“Well,” he said, looking under the bar, “we have jet juice…” He took out a bottle of liqueur of dubious origin and put it in front of her. “And slightly shittier jet juice.” The second bottle looked a little murkier than the first, and Cora looked at it suspiciously.

“I think I’ll take the jet juice,” she said, suddenly not so convinced that this was a good idea.

“Excellent choice, Doctor. You seem to have good taste in drinks.”

He started pouring a copious amount of liquor from the first bottle into two standard metal cups and offered one to Cora. She tentatively took it and even though she knew it was not the most polite thing to do, she took a whiff. It smelled horrible. She had only heard about jet juice since she came to Yavin IV, but she never imagined it would actually smell like it had been brewed inside an engine.

“Is it your first time?” he asked, amused, pointing at her drink.

“Yeah…” she grimaced.

The crowd in the back of the room erupted in a fit of laughter and Cora turned her head to look. They were playing some sort of game and someone seemed to be on a winning streak. Her heart jumped out of her chest when she noticed Cassian at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed over his chest, laughing wholeheartedly. Shit. The one person she didn’t expect to see in the middle of a dive bar and really really wanted to avoid was just standing there, looking better than ever.

She took the metal cup to her lips and took a big gulp, ignoring the pungent taste, trying to drink it as fast as possible and be gone before he noticed her.

“Whoa, slow down Doc, you need to take your time and enjoy the wretched aroma…” Melshi laughed at her efforts, but Cora didn’t listen.

“No, sorry, early shift tomorrow, gotta go,” she babbled, downing the rest of the drink in one big gulp feeling it burn her throat. She would have to explain to Doctor Crane tomorrow why she needed an esophagus transplant.

“Cora!” she heard Lewella’s voice booming over the cacophony of sounds in the room. Cora groaned audibly, as almost everyone turned around to look at her. So much for leaving unnoticed.

Lewella emerged from the crowd and joined her at the bar, a similar metal cup in her hand. “I’ve been trying to convince you to come with me for weeks and you kept declining and now I see you with Melshi?” she whined, resting a hand on Cora’s shoulder. “I’m hurt you know…”

“She came on her own,” Melshi clarified. “I found her lurking in the shadows.”

“Yeah he kidnapped me. I would have never came here on my own accord,” she assured her, smiling. “I see you’re free tomorrow?” Cora asked eyeing Lewella’s already empty cup, thinking of the horrible shift she had the next day. She was already starting to feel the alcohol going to her head.

“No, I’m leaving in a few hours, whenever your favorite general decides to ship us.”

Cora raised an eyebrow. She tried not to judge people and their choices, but she couldn’t help but feel a little worried. She knew that you needed to be alert and well rested during missions and alcohol combined with little to no sleep was a recipe for disaster.

“Oh stop being the mom friend,” Lewella said, noticing her expression. “I’m going to bed in five minutes.”

“Yeah, me too. I have a shift tomorrow morning.” Cora tried getting up the stool, but Lewella’s hand pushed her back.

“You know what? You just got here, so why not stay a little while longer? Another drink won’t kill you,” Lewella said, but Cora was convinced of the opposite. “You should meet everyone, make some friends. Sorry that I can’t stay longer to introduce you, but this is your fault for not coming when I invited you. Anyway, I’m leaving you in good hands…” She looked at Melshi, who was grinning and shook her head. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Andor!” she yelled over the music. “Come here a sec.”

Cora wanted to be able to completely disappear or spontaneously combust or something. Anything, really, just to not have to interact with Cassian. But he had already turned around and was coming towards them. Melshi probably noticed her discomfort because he refilled her cup and pushed it towards her. Cora sent him a thank you smile.

“See my girl here, Andor? You owe her an apology.” Lewella’s hand was around Cora’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace. “For locking her in a maintenance closet.” Cora felt how her face was reddening. The alcohol was doing a great job on its own and with the added embarrassment Cora feared she’ll be tomato red in no time.

She only had the courage to look at Cassian out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn’t directly looking at her either. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a cheeky grin on his face. The blush and the slightly unfocused gaze could have been an indication that he too had been drinking. Cora took another sip of the foul tasting liquid, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat.

“I have to go now, so I’m leaving her in your care, Andor,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Make sure she gets back safely and she doesn’t drink too much. If she does, tell Doctor Crane that she’s having a sudden and inexplicable case of veisalgia that has her incapacitated.”

“Oh, no! No no no!” Cora tried protesting, but a dirty look from Lewella silenced her.

“Does she really need a babysitter, though?” he asked, his accent a little more pronounced than usually.

“Of course she doesn’t, but you’ve been an ass so it’s your chance to make it up to her. Plus, I’m not leaving her here completely alone…”

“Wait, am I no one?” Melshi intervened, a little outraged by the assumption.

“You’re shady,” Lewella said, eyeing him sideways and Cora couldn’t help but laugh. He was indeed a little shady.

“And you’re trying to tell me he’s not?” Melshi said, pointing at the captain over the stone table. “He’s the fucking definition of shady!” Cassian was laughing, and Cora wondered if she had ever seen him so at ease around people.

“Yeah, but I know him and he’s harmless. On the other hand, you’re a lot more untrustworthy than you look.”

“You’ve hurt me. Right in the feelings, Lewella,” he said, pouring some liquor into another cup and offering it to Cassian. “And he’s a lot less harmless than you think. Trust me,” he added, before leaving the bar to pass the bottle to someone who was accusing them of hogging the alcohol.

“Alright, I’m going,” Lewella finally said the dreaded words and Cora wanted to latch onto her arm and cry so she wouldn’t leave her alone with Cassian, but that would raise a lot of suspicion and she wasn’t ready to explain. She smiled, stoically, and decided to finish her drink and excuse herself after that. She would survive five minutes in Cassian’s proximity. Probably. Hopefully.

“Stay safe tomorrow,” she told her friend, earning a smile from the Twi’lek.

“I will, don’t worry,” she assured her. “Andor, be nice. See you guys soon!”

As soon as Lewella left the room, Cora once again felt incredibly awkward. She didn’t remember being so antisocial, she used to be quite ok with social gatherings. It looked like the time spent in jail had made her a little more guarded. Or maybe she just felt out of place, surrounded by people that all seemed to know each other pretty well, feeling like she was intruding. The only one she knew, besides Lewella who was gone now, was Cassian and she had no idea how to deal with him right now, so she kept drinking, hoping she wouldn’t become a mopey drunk.

He had climbed on the stool next to her and was resting his elbows on the bar, seeming just as interested in his drink as she was. And probably, feeling just as awkward as she felt. Nonetheless, he was cute. It was unusual seeing him in civilian clothes without all the military insignia. Even though the jacket he was wearing now had the similar Corellian cut as his military one, it make him look more relaxed somehow. Or maybe, it was just the informal setting. She was convinced he never drank unless the job required it and certainly not on base breaking the rules, but it seemed she had been wrong in most of her assumptions. She had judged him by how he behaved at work, but she never thought he may have a private life beyond that, one that she had never been part of.

“I see you haven’t died from your concussion yet, Captain,” Cora finally broke the silence.

His lips curled into a faint smile before he took a sip from his cup. “Disappointed?”

“A little.” She laughed. “I’ll have to admit I would have really loved to be able to say ‘I told you so’.”

“I won’t give you that satisfaction, don’t worry.”

The group in the back erupted in laughter again and Cora remembered the game that Cassian had been watching before he was appointed to be her babysitter.

“What are they playing?” she asked, shifting a little so she could see their table over Cassian’s frame.

“Sabacc,” he said, his face opening into a smile. “Do you know the game?”

“Oh. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen anyone play it.” She tried getting a better look at the table, but the people crowding around it were blocking her view. “Gambling is forbidden in the Imperial army, but I assume a lot of people played anyway.”

“Well, if you decide to come here more often, I can teach you if you want.”

Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but he had never offered to meet her in their free time before. He never had lunch with her in the mess hall, never stopped to chat by the coffee machine, hell, he never stopped her in the hallway to ask her how she’d been doing. It may have not been a date, but something as simple as offering to teach her how to play a game felt like something special coming from Cassian. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much time off,” she admitted, and her voice sounded a little sadder than intended.

“That’s because you’re a workaholic. Lewella told me that she’s already invited you a few times and you kept saying no.” Could it be that he sounded a little disappointed, or was her mind playing tricks on her? “I’m surprised Melshi got you to come.”

“Don’t you dare call me a workaholic,” she said, pretending to be offended. “And he didn’t. I heard music so I was curious,” she explained. “He found me and dragged me here. Against my will. We’ve never met before.” She was pretty vehement in making sure that he knew Melshi didn’t just convince her to come. Her alcohol infused brain was starting to slip. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew what it was,” she said, without thinking.

“Why not?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

Cora looked down at her hands. “Because…” She didn’t really know what to say. “I guess I don’t really know anyone here…”

“But you do,” he said, turning around to face her. “You know Lew and you know me. You’ll get to know Melshi whether you like it or not.” Cora laughed. “You know Rodma Maddel, she’s in the intelligence division, she’s been through your questionnaire,” he said pointing at a blonde girl, and Cora cringed remembering the whole ordeal. “Speaking of which, I haven’t heard anything about that seminar yet,” he said, a grin spreading over his face.

Cora groaned. She hoped he had forgotten about that, but she wasn’t that lucky. She took another sip, before straightening her back and trying to look as professional as she could given that she was already tipsy. “Well, Captain, it seems you’re the only one on base who doesn’t know how to put on a condom.” She could hardly contain her laugh. “It wouldn’t be much of a seminar with just the two of us, don’t you think so?” She winked and Cassian shook his head, laughing, the blush on his face accentuating slightly.

“That,” he said, going back to pointing people in the room, “is Corporal Casrich. He’s a bit of a daredevil so you might have treated his injuries a few times.” The corporal was loudly talking to Sergeant Melshi, a little wobbly on his feet. Cora remembered him. She had admitted him a couple of times, but unlike Cassian, he waited patiently in the infirmary to get better.

Cora scanned the room for other familiar faces and stopped when she saw an older bearded man. “I know him. Mefran? I think…”

“Jav Mefran, yes. He helped clear out the jungle when we moved to Yavin.”

“He helped me too, with Ben when I took him out of the dungeons. He knows a lot about jungle habitats.”

“Why did you name a lichen?” he suddenly asked, taking her by surprise.

Cora shrugged. “I’m lonely, I guess.”

The same sad expression she had seen on his face before resurfaced once again. This time, however, it didn’t disappear in a fraction of a second, but persisted for a while, long enough for Cora to convince herself it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. “You don’t have to be,” he finally said.

She shrugged again, but didn’t know what to say. She knew it was her fault she was being lonely, she should have made an effort to make more friends and interact with them more, but she had been alone for most of her life so she just got used to it. Being lonely seemed to be her default state, and it rarely bothered her.

Melshi had returned behind the bar with a now empty bottle. Unfortunately, he opened a new one and started refilling their cups.

“No no no! It’s enough, I really really have to go now,” she declined the drink, jumping off of the stool.

“But you just came here,” he argued. “And I really didn’t get to know you.”

“I’ll come another time,” she assured him, but Melshi didn’t seem to buy it. “You really think Lew won’t drag me here the next time she’s on base?”

“Ok, then,” he finally gave up. “You’re lucky that you’re a doctor and I don’t want to feel responsible for the people you’ll kill tomorrow. Finish your drink and you’re free to go.”

“I’m not drinking that. You said one drink and that’s the third.” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to seem tough, even though it was pretty obvious that she was already tipsy.

“Alcohol is in short supply so we don’t waste it. You can’t leave until your cup is empty.” He was grinning and Cora wanted to strangle him. She looked over to Cassian for help but he was grinning too.

“Those are the rules,” the captain said, bringing his cup to his lips and downing it. He finished the drink without flinching, and Cora looked at him wide eyed, wondering what kind of monster he was to be able to drink that horrible liqueur with a smile on his face.

“It was empty before you refilled it,” she grumbled, pointing an accusing finger at Melshi, who had skipped the cup and was now drinking straight from the bottle.

She didn’t manage to finish her drink as elegantly as Cassian did, but she did her best only to grimace slightly. Finally, she put the empty cup upside down on the stone bar. “I want you to know that I’m blaming you tomorrow for my hangover,” she told Melshi. “Does no one ever want to kill you, because I really want to kill you right now.”

“Some have tried, Doctor, but none has succeeded yet. I’m resilient like that,” he laughed.

“Like a cockroach,” Cassian added, getting off of his stool. “I’m gonna walk you back,” he offered Cora.

“It’s ok, I can go back on my own,” she declined. “You stay here with everyone.” She really didn’t want to be a burden to him, after all he was there to spend time with his friends, not to take care of her. And she certainly didn’t want to be alone with him. She was scared of the awkward silence that would follow.

“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a step towards her, getting dangerously close. “I know you’re good with dark and narrow spaces, but the catacombs are a lot more complex than your vents. How many times have you explored them?”

Through the fog of alcohol that was clouding her mind she realized he was right. She had only found her way here because she was guided by the music, but she had absolutely no idea how to get back. That would have been difficult even if she had been sober, but drunk it was nearly impossible.

“You have a point,” she admitted, a little embarrassed. “I need your help getting back.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, putting a hand on the small of her back. “I’ll be back shortly,” he told Melshi who waved at them.

“Don’t forget me, Cora Enoch,” he yelled when they were almost out the door.

“How could I?” she yelled back. “I’ll have the mother of hangovers to remind me of you.”

She welcomed the darkness. The alcohol had gone to her head faster than she had anticipated, mainly due to her own stupidity, and right now she was sure her face was red and her eyes glassy. Fortunately, she wasn’t drunk enough to lose all self-control or black out in a corner. At least until she was safely in her own bed. She really didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of Cassian.

She turned on her flashlight seeing as Cassian didn’t seem to have any light. Melshi didn’t use the one he had either when she first saw him, so she had to assume that they could either see in the dark, or they knew the place so well they could easily navigate it. She wondered how many times they met there like that. Daily after work? Weekly? They seemed to know each other pretty well.

“How long have you known these people?” Cora asked, breaking the silence.

“Most of them I’ve known for a while. A few years even,” he said, his voice a little nostalgic. “Some I’ve only met after we moved on Yavin IV. I’ve recruited a few of them over the years.”

“How long have you known Lewella?”

“I’ve probably known her the longest. Both of us have been in the Rebellion for quite some time.”

“She never mentioned you,” she said, without thinking.

“Do you talk about me a lot?” he asked, and Cora didn’t have to see his face to know that he was grinning.

“Actually we don’t,” she admitted, realizing that if she had asked Lewella about him she would have told her. She just lived under the impression that Lew knew him like she seemed to know everyone on base, not that they were actually friends. But how could she have brought him up without raising suspicion?

“But you do think about me,” he said, and Cora was sure she turned a few shades brighter.

“Occasionally,” she admitted, the alcohol making her a little more honest than she would have liked. “When you annoy me,” she added.

“Only when I annoy you?” he asked, and Cora was sure he was referring to the kiss.

“You do annoy me a lot.” She didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

He laughed and it echoed in the dark corridor. She was feeling warm and safe walking alongside him in the narrow space. He was close enough that if she reached out she could grab his hand and pull him even closer. Was she brave enough to make the first move? The alcohol was giving her the perfect excuse, but could she do it?

Before she could make up her mind she started seeing light at the end of the corridor and she knew they were close. She had missed her chance, because she knew she would never be that brave out in the light.

“If you go straight ahead,” he said while they were still surrounded by shadows, “and then left, you’ll reach the elevators. I’ll turn around now.”

Cora nodded and turned off the flashlight, shoving it in her pocket. There was enough light that she could distinguish shapes. She turned around to look at Cassian. He was just standing there looking at her, waiting, as if giving her the chance to stop him from leaving. And she took it, thinking that life’s short and that she’ll hate herself the next day no matter what decision she made.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. That was all he needed. They easily found each other's lips in the dark, crashing into a hurried, yet passionate kiss. Cora snaked her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair, messing it up like she wanted to do so many times before. His hands had found their way underneath her uniform and his fingers were stroking the bare skin on the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine.

He pushed her onto the wall, deepening the kiss. The taste of jet juice didn’t seem so nauseating when it was on his lips, she thought as she let her hands slide down on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. His lips left hers only to move to kissing down her neck, gently nibbling at the skin from time to time, his stubble pleasantly tickling. His hands had gone up, caressing the skin over her ribs, but never quite touching her breasts, teasing her.

She took his face in her hands, bringing him back up to meet her lips, needing to feel him and taste him. He took his hands from under her tunic and pulled her into an embrace, pressing her to his chest as closely as he could without suffocating her. She grabbed onto his shoulders for support, her knees weak.

She had no idea how much time they spent like that, but time was a distant notion to her. When he finally broke off the kiss, she was feeling lightheaded and flustered.

“I have to go now,” he said, his voice raspy, just as out of breath as she was. “Before they start asking questions.”

“You could stay,” she suggested, her voice low and shaky, but without any doubt in her mind.

He smiled and looked away, then released her from his embrace. Without his arms holding her, Cora struggled to maintain her balance so she took a step back and leaned on the stone wall.

“You have work early in the morning,” he said, not looking at her, more concentrated on buttoning his shirt right. “You need sleep.”

“I don’t care,” she said, not giving up just yet. He laughed, but Cora could see him backing away, and not only physically.

“You’ll regret it tomorrow,” he said, but it was too dark for Cora to make out the look he threw her. She wondered what he referred to when he said she’d regret it: losing a night’s sleep or sleeping with him? “Go get some rest,” he said, before shoving his hands in his pockets and disappearing in the dark.

After a few minutes of silent pondering, Cora realized how much she hated him for leaving her alone in the corridor, horny and drunk, but also how much she wanted him. She slid down the wall and pressed her hands to her face.

“Fuck you, Cassian,” she whispered.

One thing she had been right about: she hated herself in the morning. She also hated Cassian and Melshi, but above it all, she hated herself.

When she got to her room she was sure she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep thanks to the adrenaline running through her veins, but after taking a quick shower, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. She woke up with a splitting headache and a very disgruntled stomach. Luckily, she arrived to her shift in time, cursing the gods who had bestowed humanity with the gift of alcohol.

She had spent the whole morning nursing her hangover and yelling at the droids that were making too much noise for her liking. Fortunately for everyone, the med bay hadn’t been very busy that day. She hated herself for not being able to refuse drinking on a work night. The wretched taste of jet juice lingered on her tongue and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get rid of it unless she gargled disinfectant. Maybe not even so.

But besides the taste of jet juice, the feeling of Cassian’s lips on hers lingered too. When she woke up in the morning she wasn’t sure if it was a dream fueled by alcohol or if it was real. It took her a while to convince herself that it had been in fact real. She should have never kissed anyone while drunk, she told herself. But she knew she wouldn’t have had the courage to do it if she were completely sober. And she wondered if it wasn’t the same for him. She didn’t regret it, though.

Most of the day she just sat at her desk, her hands tightly pressed onto her eyes, hoping that she’d survive her hangover for a few more hours.

“Hello Doc,” she heard a familiar voice greet her and she groaned internally. “Remember me?”

“How could I have forgotten you, Sergeant?” she said, turning around to look at a smiling Melshi. “What can I help you with?”

He lifted his left hand and Cora could see a small drill poking out of it. She sighed. “Prep OR01,” she told a med droid. “Follow me, Sergeant.”

The med droid sat him on the table while Cora put on a surgical gown and a pair of gloves. Taking the drill out of his hand wasn’t a complicated thing, it could have been done in the ER downstairs, but she assumed his main objective was to see her and laugh at her hangover.

“How’s your first real hangover, Doctor?” he asked, proving her right.

“What makes you think that this is ‘my first real hangover’?”

“Because you don’t really experience hangovers to their fullest until you try jet juice.”

“I see,” she smiled. “Well, as you can see, I’ve survived.”

The scanner showed that he had narrowly missed hitting a bone with the drill and there was no nerve damage either. He has been lucky.

“You, on the other hand, or on this hand, nearly drilled into a bone.”

“It can happen to the best of us, isn’t that right, Doc?”

“Especially to those who drink on weeknights,” she scolded him.

“Every night is a weeknight for some of us. You just have to make some time for yourself too. We can’t be working all the time or we’d go mad.” He grinned and Cora feared the worst. “Speaking of which, you and Cassian, eh?”

Cora’s eyes widened. How could he know? There was no way Cassian would have told him, right? She assumed he wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but she may have been wrong. Or maybe he didn’t know, and was making assumptions himself. She was going to deny everything anyway.

“There has to be a verb in there somewhere for it to be a sentence, Sergeant,” she said, while slowly extracting the metal object from his flesh.

“You know what I mean,” he grinned.

“No, I don’t,” she played stupid.

“Do you really want me to say it out loud?” he asked, pointing towards the med droid, who was waiting by the door in case he was needed. Cora wondered if med droids gossiped. She sighed and dismissed it.

“There’s nothing between me and Cassian,” she said, when they were completely alone.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“Are you trying to tell me that he just walked you to your room, told you good night and left?”

“Pretty much. Minus the good night part, he’s not that polite,” she said, smiling, hoping he’d drop the subject.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t really care if you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”

“He’s not that stupid, you know,” he said, looking at her like he knew something she didn’t. “He’s noticed the way you look at him.”

“What do you mean?” Her heart sank.

He grinned. “You know, out of the corner of your eye, like you’re not really looking, but you are. And he’s noticed.” Cora threw him a disbelieving look. “He has, and he’s doing the same thing. So don’t try to convince me there’s nothing between the two of you.”

“There’s nothing between me and Cassian,” she said in her best poker face.

With the drill extracted, wound cleaned and patched up, he was free to go, and Cora wished to get rid of him as fast as she could. Her heart was beating too fast and she felt she was going to be nauseous again. She promised herself she'd never drink again.

“Thanks for the hand,” he said, before leaving the med bay. “And maybe next time he walks you back to your room you won’t let him leave until he says goodnight. Or good morning, depending…”

“Oh, fuck off before I change my mind and put that drill back!”

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Masterlist

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #cassian andor x ofc #rogue one #starlight

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