#it makes my fucking little brain do jumping jacks of joy

[siriusly-the-best-bi]

guys the kiss was so important especially from a narrative and storytelling perspective because it was literally Crowley taking everything that's happened between them, every unsaid intention and every unspoken promise, and making it physical.

He's taking their arrangement and every other bullshit excuse they've ever used to hide how they feel about each other and throwing them out the window to put their feelings into an undeniable physical action that holds a lot of meaning to humans in order to be absolutely sure that Aziraphale knows exactly what he means when he says "we could have been Us." He wants to be absolutely sure that there are no misunderstandings between them and know that Azirphale will be committing to this decision with absolute reassurance that he's been understood and rejected anyway.

he's taking a human action with so much meaning and so much importance, and he's using it as a way to desperately make Aziraphale completely and undeniably aware of what he's stating. No more charades and no more lies or cover-ups. There's no denying this thing between them now, and Crowley did it the human way. Because he and Aziraphale love humanity and it's everything to them in their own ways.

There's a reason we saw a kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale, and not Gabriel and Beelzebub, despite them both being undeniable foils.

and really if you just think about that isn't it so god damned beautiful?

#im crying and throwing up #like please tell me u guys get what im saying #and im not just spouting bullshit #like literally i swear this is something i hope i articulated it well enough #like its so SYMBOLIC #it makes my fucking little brain do jumping jacks of joy #bi.f.shit #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable divorcées #ineffable husbands #gos2ep6 spoilers #good omens analysis

[yandereislife]

One-Shots - Creepypasta x GN! Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death, shootings, medical settings

Movie Night

Slenderman: Downton Abbey

Definitely a sucker for this show and when the movie came out how could he NOT see it with his favorite person? Literally the only show that was able to bring out his emotions. He’s an eldritch cryptid that lived through every decade and time period, and the timeframe Downton Abbey was in happened to be one of his favorites. Always talks about their lavish lifestyles and amazingly tailored clothing. Pulls the ‘back in my day’ card but it’s more like ‘back in this time period I experienced’.

Laughing Jack: Terrifier

Definitely gets a kick out of horror movie clowns. Makes him cackle and slap his knee. He'll definitely compare killing strategies to the killer clown on the screen. If gore makes you uncomfortable you might want to sit this out though he'd enjoy bonding with you over something he deems so humorous.

Jeff The Killer: DOG

Despite him hating military people and mostly loving a good, classic horror movie to give him new ideas, his favorite genre is comedy. Why not watch a movie with a dog in it? It makes you smile, makes SMILE smile, and makes him laugh. He'll constantly look over at you making sure there's a smile on your face.

Ben Drowned: The Legend Of Zelda: The Hero of Time

Now hear me out, although he gets compared to Link all the damn time he's still a sucker for his favorite game and would love more than anything to have a piece of the GOOD part of his childhood back especially with his S/O that he trusts. So as soon as he heard about the movie he was jumping at the first opportunity to steal it off any victim who had a copy or bought a service like Hulu that the movie was on.

Eyeless Jack: Brain on Fire

With Chloë Grace Moretz as your favorite actress and him loving serious movies involving a medical mystery this was a perfect pairing. Really any medical mystery suits him but why not make it something you both can enjoy? Definitely points out medical inaccuracies not only in this movie but in EVERY show or movie you both watch. Boosts his ego and helps him remember he knows what he’s doing and what his job is.

Bloody Painter: The Joy Of Painting.

Unless you completely despised documentaries and hours of quite literally watching paint dry he'd have no problem sitting you down to watch some Bob Ross related movies. Barely talks, which is surprising. Gets loads of inspiration (somehow) and lets out a few ‘hums’ and nods as his eyes are glued to the screen and he’s a little too into it. Comments on how he should use a touch more red in his paintings.

Puppeteer: US

He would find it very interesting and would have suspected the plot twist but still didn't expect how it ended. Prime cuddle time while it's one of the rare times he's not up and moving and is finally quiet and concentrated and in the same spot.

~Proxies/Marble Hornets~

Ticci Toby: any Horror Comedy

Just like Jeff he loves comedy movies, but prefers comedy mixed with horror. Like the Scary Movie series, The Babysitter, killer couch, etc. His laughter always makes him lighten up but unfortunately triggers a lot of tics, though this seems to be one of the only times he doesn't mind. He doesn't prefer cuddling at this time like the rest might as he doesn't want to hurt you, but does indulge in resting a shaky hand on your thigh or holding your hand.

Masky: The Fifth Wave

Would definitely love the concept and plot twists. Only watches it because you begged him too, and after all of the films he’d made you watch (most likely made on Brian’s recorder and is a bunch of gore) you insisted it was your turn to ‘pick’. Gets jealous of how Cassie/Evan makes you blush and cuddles the fuck out of you after he notices your little infatuation. Keeps teasing you about how he'd have to patch you up if you got shot like Cassie.

Hoodie: The Pogkeepsie Tapes

Surprisingly Hoodie likes the goriest movies of them all, like even Jeff doesn’t watch some of the shit he gets his hands on. From the dark web to something Ben has to fish around to get from old tapes they'd found in victims’ houses he just cannot get enough. It's hard to tell if the screams are real or fake. The scariest part is how utterly calm they make him. He always lays back and insists you snuggle next to him, but understands if you can't 'handle the content'.

A/N: First Creepypasta one-shot. I wrote this a long time ago and decided to upload it here with some edits made as I’m not on Wattpad much anymore. Hope you enjoyed! <3

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #masky #hoodie #brian thomas #reader x masky #reader x proxies #proxy x reader #timothy wright #puppeteer #laughing jack #ej #eyeless Jack #Ticci toby #Tobias rogers #slenderman #jeff the killer #ben drowned #proxies #creepypasta love #horror #oneshot #headcanon

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

~

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

#Jack Bass #Jack Bass x Reader #Gossip Girl Jack Bass x Reader #Jack bass x Reader Oneshot #Bart Bass #Chuck Bass #Oneshot #Gossip Girl #Gossip Girl x Reader

[caffeine-and-melatonin]

✨Bad Batch E14 Spoilers✨

Sooooo I'm about to say a whole lot of not very polite words......

AHHHHHHHHHH HOLY SHIT Y'ALL AHHHHHHHHHH

Let's have a look at my brain melting during this episode (there's a lot oops):

- Commando armor? Slicked back hair? HOLY FUCK GREGOR OMG THE BOY!!!!! WE ACTUALLY GET TO SEE THE BOY!!!!!! (wait hold up does this mean we might see Wolffe too? Not asking for a friend I'm asking for me)

- Eek this is giving me very much "Ahsoka being hunted by Trandoshans" vibes

- Hunter doing knife tricks....that's...well....AHHHHH

- Omg Omega trying to copy the little knife spins is so cute

- REX!!! HIM!!! MY FIRST LOVE!!! HE'S BACK AGAIN!!! YAY!!! Sweetheart that poncho is fantastic!

- Is he ok? IS REX OK??? WHY IS HE RUNNING???

- Here's the thing I love Gregor but like they were a bit too quick to go after him and they still haven't talked about Cross soooooo hmmm

- Ok I have a feeling we are gonna get some Echo character development in this episode. The way Echo looked at Hunter was what got him to cave in and agree to go rescue Gregor. He knows it's the right thing to do and it's so interesting to me that Echo seems to have the strongest sense of moral obligation (aside from Omega). I have a feeling like this might clash with Hunter being the leader and honestly I wanna see how they handle that as a team.

- Nothing would bring me more joy than to absolutely DECK Rampart on behalf of Cross, Howzer, and Eleni Syndulla

- speaking of cross....CROSS!!! YOU'RE HERE!!!

- Wait hold up are they leaving Kamino?

- Also what happens to all the cadets? Like they're little kids...I'm scared

- Ok imma have to go on a whole rant/info dump about Kaminoan history and society later so y'all have that to look forward to in the morning

- Awwww Echo talking about Rex makes me want to cry. He looks up to his older brother so much and it's honestly so sweet

- Hunter using his special abilities? Hunter using his special abilities!

- Omg its just gonna be Hunter, Tech, and Echo?! TECH AND ECHO CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT???

- Look at those boys go! Climbing up a whole ass mountain while I look at a flight of stairs and go "ewww why"

-Ok is it just me or does the whole bottomless pit style base with a lot of red accents gives off Empire but make it First Order Aesthetic...? Just me?

- Tech's eyes are just so ✨p r e t t y✨. That's all.

- STORMTROOPERS? ALREADY?

- OMG ECHO BRINGING UP SKAKO MINOR! AND THEN TALKING ABOUT HOW IF SOMEONE IS BEING HELD AGAINST THEIR WILL THEY HAVE TO GET THEM OUT! DID YOU SEE HUNTER'S REACTION???? EVEN WITHOUT SEEING HIS FACE YOU KNOW HE'S GOTTA BE THINKING ABOUT CROSS!!! LOOK AT HIS BODY LANGUAGE!!! AHHHHHHH

- "i'm thinkin'." whispers Wrecker mindfully.

- I don't know what it is, but i just love this shot:

- Concept: into the spiderverse but it's just clones jumping off elevators and somehow gracefully free climbing on the walls

- Commando armor is just soooooo cool!!!! Like seriously! Also the TK trooper armor is....interesting

- AHHHHHH GREGOR'S LITTLE VOICE CRACKS!!! HE'S ADORABLE!!!

- "That's CAPTAIN traitor."

- Gregor really do be out here holding up the standard that you have to be a special kind of pretty to be a Captain in the GAR

- Also can we talk about how absolutely jacked Gregor's arms are? Like sir no wonder you aren't wearing any armor on your arms! How would fit! Damn dude

- I miss 99 so much

- Boys using stun rounds. No (intentional) unalives. Good for them.

- Echo and Tech working together and having each other's backs makes me beyond happy

- SASSY TECH AND SASSY GREGOR

- Tech really does yell in all lower case doesn't he?

- NO GREGOR! DAMMIT DAVE STOP SHOOTING THE BOY!

-When I tell you I thought Tech was gonna get shot too.... my god I don't think I would be able to handle that in any capacity

- SPOILER WARNING FOR REBELS: Gregor talking about surviving getting shot hurts me. This hurts my feelings. It hurts my feelings a lot.

- Ok but Tech casually blowing up that air vent grate thing was hot. No I will not elaborate.

- also...ECHO FUCKING YEETED ALL THREE OF THEM AND THEN HIMSELF LIKE AT LEAST 10 FT IN THE AIR!

- Echo carrying Gregor through the air ducts reminds me so much of Rex carrying him on Sako Minor

- WAIT HOLY SHIT OMEGA IS FLYING THE SHIP BY HERSELF!!! LOOK AT HER GO!!! Tech has to be so proud of her. I just know he is.

- Gonky helping + increased theme music = ahhhhhhh yay!

- TECH BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING SEXY FLIGHT MANEUVERS!!!!!!! My stars I love that man. I'm speechless. It's like almost 4am and I legitimately screeched

- Tech: *flying like a badass* Gregor: bitch what are you doing this is not the time nor place for this shit

- FUCK NOOOOOOO HUNTER!!!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!

- GONKY!!! AHHHHH

- How tf is Hunter still alive??? Like I'm not complaining but still

- HOLY FUCKING SHIT NOOOOO THIS IS NOT OK!!!!! OMEGA'S VOICE AND SHEER PANIC BREAKS MY HEART!!! TECH'S LOOK OF HOPELESSNESS!!!! AND HUNTER SOUNDING ABSOLUTELY DEFEATED!!!! FUCK I CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW!!!!

- Yo on top of all that Lama Su just got straight up unalived

-hunter in a jail cell......................CROSSHAIR

- Ok but until the very last second, that was the least scrunched up face I have ever seen Cross make. Like you too have lovely eyes it's a shame you're so grouchy all the time. ANYWAY thoughts on that face because my brain is very full rn

FINAL THOUGHTS

- I just love clones more than life itself. Look at the boys go. I love them. I wanna give them all hugs (in regards to Tech…I will not kiss and tell).

- Gregor has and always will be so precious. Love that quirky boy so much.

- WTF IS GOING ON WITH REX??????? I NEED ANSWERS!!!!!!!

- Echo played such a major role in this episode and honestly I'm so glad. I still think there is so much more room to grow his character, but at least it's something.

- Gonky being that bitch this episode 👑

- Not sure if you've noticed, but my soul is no longer attached to my physical form. Tech has it. Tech owns my soul. I am more than ok with this.

- The last 5 minutes really just did that didn't it? Like jeez bro that was a lot

- Cross? Breaks? Hunter? Out? And? They? Both? Escape? After? Having? An? Emotional? Reconciling? PLEASE???????????

Overall, while I did really like the Ryloth episodes, I honestly think this might be my new favorite episode.

The episode itself was well paced

The stakes felt rather high

Fantastic action

Echo played a main part in the storyline

Contributed to not only the plot of the show but added context for how Gregor and Rex meet up

Tech flying and looking hot while doing it...that's very important to the overall ranking

It was engaging and intense with one hell of a cliffhanger at the end

So yeah I really liked this episode! I'm super excited to see what happens next (omg there's only two episodes left oh no scary)!

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb #tbb spoilers #bad batch #bad batch spoilers

[thatsjustsupergirl]

rewatching 6x11 for podcast prep so let’s have some fun this beat is sick

no really, the score for this magic battle is great i love it

we had originally planned to do an episode about all the series references to harry potter over the hiatus and now i’m so very sad we didn’t bECAUSE,,,,,,

mxy is laying out this ye olde folktale like we’re about to get deathly hallow’d

anyway then we get some speedy setup for the main question of the season, which is: what ultimately gives us power— our abilities or what we choose to do with them?

fun fact this concept was also relevant to kara’s arc in season 3 when she was stuck in her mind palace and that was also a harry potter nod [x]

you all have no idea how many unprompted musical interludes we cut from our show but mxy attempting to sing his exposition here truly sparked joy

Every time they mention that Nyxly’s brother is named “Jared,” my brain immediately cuts to this SNL sketch:

who are you, nyxly?

ANYWAY,

we’re also going to search for horcruxes i guess because there are seven totems but apparently they can be anything so i really hope they go for a visual gag like the pieces of eight from pirates of the caribbean world’s end because those were literal pocket litter

hey neat mxy explaining this whole blood requirement for magic that will definitely not be relevant again later in this episode 😈🧙🏻

and then, what’s this? a golden child and a scapegoat? surely that’s not a thing that happens in families with narcissistic parents and we are in no way being set up for more foil character stuff 👀

oh nia, your mom was right about the level of screw-up you did, but also your hair looks amazing

also the show has been going hard on Into the Woods motifs since 6x09 and here we have a cool subversion of Your Fault in which everyone feels overly responsible for what’s happened instead of trying to deflect the blame onto each other

a song that is, delightfully, interrupted by the Witch so she can gloat about how they’re all going to be squashed flat by a giant so i mean. giant cat works?

awww, this whole storyline with brainy and nia was so good we love healthy communication

also, the scene with nia and kara??? HEART EYES

hey look it’s those two friends who thought that using the most romantic line in "titanic" to seal their bond was somehow not even a little bit gay but this episode written by queer people knows exactly how gay it was and i just think that’s beautiful

i have been joking for literally three years about how they’ve been using elements of Wicked in this series and it’s always been tied to lena, so i am fucking rolling with laughter at this having a sudden and unexpected payoff

okay so that scene with kara jumping back afraid @ the phantom zone projector was was such a good reveal of how very Not Okay she is (and how not okay alex is either), and then her determination to Fix Everything even though she can’t is another part of that :(

really loving nyxly being like SOCIAL DISTANCING! with every zap of magic at her minion pal

was a cat the cheapest render they could get??? like. don’t get me wrong it’s so damn chaotic and weird and a way nyxly would get under kara’s skin but also it screams "i am conserving my budget"

nia has such fun mix of both kara and alex’s worst self-sacrificing qualities; also we love brainy using his unfortunate family legacy powers for good

nyxly is out here looking like a female jack sparrow and i so want this now

andrea like "the unknown is always scarier than the truth" tHIS IS ALSO RELEVANT TO INTO THE WOODS so i’m glad we’re leaning into all the witch stories all at once

speaking of which, they have held out for so long on doing a typically dramatic adoption-oriented storyline about birth parents and i’m frankly so glad they just went all in on making it as ridiculously campy as silver banshee’s origin story in season one i am hERE FOR IT

bonus points for the super 90s Practical Magic vibe to all the "lena’s mom" images and also for you have your mother’s eyes but to the extreme

nyxly @ mxy like

i really loved the conclusion to mxy’s arc that they put in this episode??? he’s so touched that they all want to help him and then he decides to help them in return even though it comes at great personal cost we love to see this continued depiction of kara’s legacy as a hero and that it’s really her compassion and willingness to Hope that are the winning factors

also, nia. my beautiful daughter. please hire me to interpret your dreams because i’m pretty sure you’re seeing a hint that you need lena to destroy that orb

#i just have a lot of feelings #season six

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven

Special thanks to James @friedchickenangelwings for helping me out with this story. I can’t wait to write this. Read on AO3 here

Summary: Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching.

Chapter One: Runnin’ on Empty

“Well, Cas helped.”

Dean’s heart flutters at that and he looks at Bobby. The damn old man raises his eyebrows; he knows he just buried the lead and he did it on purpose. A soft breath escapes him and he smiles. Maybe this is gonna be alright after all. Hell, maybe he can find that angel and…

“It’s a big new world out there. You’ll see.” 

Dean’s stomach twists at the idea. I don’t wanna see. His stupid brain insists. He takes a swig of the beer in his hand to try to quiet the voice. “Oh, wow.” He recoils a bit and looks at it. “This tastes like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.” He shares a wry smile with Bobby. Drinks with Dad weren’t exactly top-tier, and they both knew it.

“Quality stuff?” 

Dean’s smiling because he feels like he should be. “Nah, it’s crap.” He tries to shift that memory into a good thing, because his memory of his first beer is the crushing doubt and fear that swirled around his head. Finally, he’d done something right enough to earn a beer like a Man, but he still felt… broken. 

He feels the same now.

Maybe it’s because he’d really just wanted a hug.

But Bobby is waiting for him to say something. Dean focuses instead on the surface-level joy of that old mid-evening beer, the pride in his dad’s eyes, trying to drum up the feeling. “But it was fantastic.” 

“Just like this.”

“It’s almost perfect.” Dean manages. He wants Bobby to agree. He wants Bobby to say ‘Yeah, I know, something just ain’t right, can’t put my finger on it,’ but he doesn’t. He lets the silence drag on for a second longer before he fills it.

“He’ll be along.” Dean’s heart jumps, but then he realizes he’s talking about Sam. Not Cas. But he doesn’t want Sam up here anytime soon; he wants Sam to live a nice life with Eileen, like he promised. “Time up here, it’s different. You got everything you could ever want, or need, or dream. So I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

It kinda feels like when Jack was born and Cas was dead and Sam wanted to go to strip clubs and listen to Zeppelin and eat at the greasiest holes-in-the-wall. Like he had everything he was supposed to want laid right out in front of him, but… none of it made Dean feel anything. He looks around, searching for inspiration, and his eyes land on home. Things always look clearer when he's looking out at ‘em through Baby’s windshield. “I think I’ll go for a drive.” 

“Have fun.” 

He leaves the acrid beer with Bobby and climbs into his car. Maybe he’s insane, but she feels.. different. He is insane. He is in heaven. “Get it together, Dean.” he mutters to himself as he pulls away. Bobby mentioned that his parents are nearby but… Dean doesn't want to face that yet. Nothing to fix your existential crisis about Heaven like a neat talk with your disappointed parents. 

He keeps to the main road instead. He drives for an hour, maybe two, at least that’s what it feels like. From what Bobby said, time isn’t so straightforward here. That only scares him a little bit. Eventually, his brain seems to calm down enough to think clearly. He’d chosen this. He’d accepted this. And he’d meant what he’d said in that barn; he was okay with dying. Of course, he didn’t realize that meant… He didn’t realize that meant more. 

A little voice inside him whispers something evil. He’d just wanted to see Cas again. Even in memories. Like it was before…

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not gonna fuck it up. It’s heaven. I can’t fuck it up in heaven, right?” He laughs out loud to himself, but it’s cut off by Baby groaning underneath him. She starts to slow. “Baby? What the hell?”

She’s out of gas.

Dean grumbles as he pulls over. “Sonuvvabitch, what the-” He almost said what the hell. He’s in heaven. Nothing in hell. Heh. She rolls to a stop and he kills the engine, letting the new silence and stillness wash over him. He sighs. Heaven, huh?

He scrubs a hand across his back and looks over to his right, to an onion field. Yellow and pokey and-

Cas is standing in the middle of it. 

Dean just about has a heart attack. He scrambles out of the car, honks Baby’s horn in the process, is all the way around the car by the time he really sees him.

Cas looks terrible. He’s standing stock-still in the middle of the field, arms down at his sides, crumpled trench coat speckled with the black sludge that haunts Dean’s nightmares. His hair is matted, his face gaunt, eyes sunken in with bags dark as bruises. But what scares Dean the most is the look in his eyes. His eyelids droop and hang and he stares straight ahead, straight at Dean, without seeing him, without any light in them at all. 

It doesn’t look like Cas. 

“Cas?” Dean approaches slowly, hands held out like he would to a wild animal. Cas shows no sign of moving, just stands there. “Cas, look at me, man,” There’s pleading in his voice, but he doesn’t care. He needs Cas to be okay. 

Castiel is not okay. 

As Dean gets closer, he starts to hear screams and crashes. He twists around to look for the source, but it just seemed to come from… around Cas. He looks closer, and Cas’s hands move to fend something off he can’t see. He’s still just staring ahead, but, looking closer at Cas’s face, he sees something he hadn’t noticed before. 

Cas is talking. Well, muttering really. Dean can barely hear him through the pauses in far-off yells. “d-Dea-Dean. Dean- de-Dean.” Dean stomach drops off a cliff. “Dean, just think of… D-du-Dean.” 

“I’m here, Cas.” Fuck the rasp in his voice. Fuck the tears in his eyes. Cas can’t hear him. He can tell by the look in his eyes. “FUCK!” 

He rubs his eyes with his fists furiously. This is so frustrating, this is so-

There is no one there. No sound. Cas is gone. 

Dean strides ahead, but it’s no use. The field is empty, and he is alone. Again. 

It takes Dean a few minutes before he can get himself under control. Cas isn’t there; he has to assume he never had been, not really. So, unless Dean has finally gone off the deep end, it was… what, a vision? A- god, it felt familiar. It felt like - it felt like after purgatory. The same haunted face, the same unseeing eyes. Gone in a blink.

Why am I seeing you again, man? 

But, as sure as he is that there is grass on the ground, he knows Cas can’t hear him.

Dean sits up against his fender and sighs. On the one hand, he is sitting on warm clear asphalt, feeling the afternoon sun bake his face, and on the other, he is miserable and seeing his dead-alive-again best friend. Except if Cas was around, he would come see him. Right? I mean, Dean died. So young. And Cas just told him- 

And Dean is praying to him. And he’s not here. It’s not right. None of it is. That he is sure about. If this was heaven, he didn’t want it.

Dean gets up. Will he ever get some motherfucking peace? He gets in his car, tries the ignition. She starts up again and - miracle of miracles - has gas. He thanks her with a pat and they're off, riding into the eerily-perfect sunset, back the way they came.

Night’s fallen by the time he pulls into the dirt pathway. He parks on the lawn and shivers a little bit in the chill of the night. Funny, he wouldn’t think Heaven got cold. But then again, he wouldn’t have thought Heaven would be shitty either. The roadhouse is inviting and homey, lights on inside. Dean snags a beer from the cooler left out front and kicks the door open softly. “Hello?” He doesn’t know who he’s expecting, but it definitely wasn’t who he gets. 

“Dean!” Charlie wraps him in a hug before he can say anything, and Dean gladly melts into it. God, it’s good to see her. He pulls away and pats her cheek, checking her out. She looks good, normal. Less… dead and bloody than he last saw her? Jesus his mind is a dark place. 

“Hey kid! How the hell are you?” 

Charlie rolls her eyes at the greeting, but she can’t stop grinning. “All things considering, y’know, being dead and all, I’m good!” 

Dean laughs. She’s already rambling, and he missed her. “Sorry about that one,” he winces, remembering his part in the circumstances around her death. 

Charlie chooses to take it as a condolences. “Yeah, you too, dude. But at least we died young and hot, right?” She tugs him over to the bar and leans around to yell at the scuffed doorway. “Ash! We got company?”

Dean’s eyes widen. “Ash? You guys know each other?” 

“Can’t keep geniuses like us apart, compadre,” Dr. BadAss comes out of his backroom, arms spread out in greeting. Dean can’t stop himself from greeting him with a hug. He hadn’t known who to expect here, but Ash and Charlie are just about best case scenario. “What’re you doing here?” 

Dean knows he means how he died, but he looks around anyway. The rest of the bar is quiet and still, and Dean can hear nothing outside the heavy doors either. “I think we gotta problem, Ash.” 

Ash’s face folds into a frown. “What kinda problem?” Dean feels Charlie press in and he glances at her suddenly-serious face. 

“A big one. A heaven sized one.” They all looked around skeptically, a little Scooby-Doo-like, taking in the lifeless room around them. Finally, Ash meets Dean’s eyes, and Dean withdraws a little. 

“Yeah, we know. Welcome to the team, Deano.” 

Tag list: @dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat

#fanfic #my writing #destiel #deancas #15x20 coda #coda #fix it fic #sunset sound #sunset sound: stairway to heaven #runnin' on empty #chapter 1 #dean winchester #ash #castiel #charlie bradbury #bobby singer

[mccall-me-maurice]

In Hopes You’re on the Other Side, Talking to me too

Pairing: Jack Merridew/Ralph

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Jack was trying his best to be Ralph’s everything. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. So every night the redhead finds himself talking to the moon to try and win Ralph back through words that he’ll never really say to the boy. All in hopes that perhaps a certain someone is doing the exact same.

Jack hates himself more than he hates anyone else in the galaxy. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. Maybe there are a couple people worse than him but it really can’t be all that many. It’s probably one of the shortest lists to ever grace this planet, but for now he’s focusing on the fact that he just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Ralph and Jack never really got along until 2 years ago. They had a horrible past of bloody fights and words that chilled the other to the bone. They were so used to painting old school tiles with each other’s blood that they didn’t really get the time to know each other much further than hatred. Until 2 years ago, on the last day of their senior year. Ralph had finally held his hand out to Jack, letting the redhead take it instead of trying to maim him. That was all that it took for the boy who previously was his rival to become fascinated with Ralph in a way other than what he initially thought. Of course, it was supposed to be a horribly inconvenient time for both of them and if he had to guess, Jack would’ve said Ralph planned it so he wouldn’t have to face the freckled boy again. However, fate had different plans for them and on their first day of college, the two had been shocked to figure out that they were located in the same hall for the next four years.

Flash forward 1 and ½ years and Jack and Ralph were helplessly in love with each other. Nobody had suspected the pairing of an easygoing business major and finance major to pair up with each other. Jack himself didn’t really notice when the shift from friends to boyfriends occurred but before he could blink an eye, he was abandoning homework assignments to be with Ralph and staying up hours past when he usually drifted off to sleep to hear the tired voice of his boyfriend giggle about people he had seen in class. 20 years old and Jack really believed he had found his soulmate. He really believed that they would be together for as long as they lived. As long as the sun burned in the sky, his hand would be in Ralph’s. Even once they passed, they would be dancing together as ghosts.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was March 3rd, the weather had shifted to overcast and Jack was slammed with studying for exams. Ralph’s exams had passed a week prior and the boy had flopped on his boyfriend’s bed, eyes scanning through a phone screen. Every so often he would hammer Jack with a series of questions and the redhead would be so tired he wouldn’t really give coherent responses. Late nights studying pages that were swimming with words and an excessive amount of monster energy drinks really turned someone’s brain to absolute mush. Not to mention Ralph had been sickeningly sweet to him, as if he could persuade Jack off of his swivel chair and onto the bed. As much as he wanted to be over there, running his fingers through Ralph’s hair and whispering the boy to sleep, all he could do was let the red ink of his pen slide across paper knowing that he was one sentence closer to the warm embrace of the blond.

“Jack…”

“What’s up?” Ralph sounded wary, like the news he was about to break would simply crush Jack. Little did he know, it would.

“Jack we need to take a break.” Jack choked on his spit. “Not forever. I don’t want to be away from you forever… Unless it has to be that way. Just for a couple weeks, a couple months. However long it takes for you to realise that there’s so much more to life than what lies in those textbook pages. I mean… You have been straight up ignoring me lately and I talked to Simon about it… He agreed that what's best for us is to just take a break. I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Which leads Jack to the present day, lying on the bed Ralph once laid on, scrolling through the text messages that Ralph once sent with tears in the corners of his eyes. He wants nothing more than to have the boy back, the heat of the soccer player's body warming Jack as he presses his cheek against blond hair. The energy of the night has been doing this to him recently, the darkness shrouding him as he lets himself sun quietly into the pillow. He can’t imagine that it’s not his fault. He gave Ralph his everything but even then the boy deserves so much more. He deserves the best and Jack clearly isn’t that for him. He will never be.

Jack shuts his phone off, placing it on the nightstand that lies to his left. The only thing that lights up the room is the beam of moonlight through his awfully cheap curtains. The flimsy white fabric barely blocks out anything, but even the inanimate object seems to be trying harder than Jack. The clock on his nightstand reads 23:57, signalling to the boy that even though exams are long over, he will still be up for at least another 3 hours. Not studying like he used to. No, he stopped studying the day that he took his final test, body filled with too much sorrow to even review the content properly. Recently the redhead has picked up the hobby of sitting cross legged in front of his window on the second floor of building B and he talks. He talks to the moon, to the stars, but most importantly he talks to Ralph. Whether the blond listens or not, he really isn’t sure. It’s not like his ex-boyfriend would ever be able to hear his cracked voice stumble over words as he spills his heart out to the endless night. Normally Jack wouldn’t even let himself be weak enough as to think about a head of blond hair for one more minute of one more day. And he does play a very clever façade in front of Roger and Maurice. He acts like Ralph doesn’t exist, like the hole in his heart doesn’t ache every time tan skin and ocean blue eyes filled with joy cross his path. On the days he isn’t sitting in his room, all alone, he’s out with his friends letting sweaty bodies press up against him as music blares. Drinks spill from red cups and onto the floor and all Jack can think about is how none of the people that choose to plaster themselves to him are Ralph. None of the people who cover his mouth with theirs, only to be quickly shoved off and sworn at, are the boy who he wishes would drunkenly kiss him. As much as he prays that Roger will show up empty handed with a party invite, at least once a week the raven haired boy is smirking at him with a bottle of booze clutched tightly in his fist. In order to seem like he’s the same sick person he was before he dated Ralph, he gives his friend an equally mischievous smile and takes the bottle.

Perhaps all of these emotions that Jack is feeling are Ralph’s fault. Or at least a byproduct of the fair boy. Before he let the boy ruin his life with ease, he was so cold hearted and had no fucks left to give. But for once, he had something to fight for that wasn’t himself. For once in his 20 years of life, Jack had someone who loved him just as much as he loved them. Which is why Ralph had always mattered more than a stupid party or nagging from his mates. He would’ve dropped the world to hold Ralph. Yes, that has to be it. All the crying had been because the blond’s soft heart had destroyed Jack. It had left him in a million pieces and as much as he didn’t want himself to be weak, as much as he hated himself for crying, it was happening.

Jack lets his body move over to the window, legs almost giving out underneath him as he falls into the place he’s become to know so very well over the past months. Roger didn’t invite him out today, but he doesn’t exactly blame the boy. There’s at least one party Roger attends every night, but bringing the heartbroken finance major who shoves off anyone who tries to make a move probably isn’t the best look for him. So instead Jack is sitting in the oversized pullover sweater with the college’s name plastered across the front that he got at orientation. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his hair is all mussed and he probably looks like the human embodiment of death.

“Hey Ralph. I know you’re not talking to me… And you probably can’t even hear me. But I miss you. A lot. It’s really not in my character to miss people so that’s probably why this feels so weird.” Jack can’t help the sad laughter that bubbles up in his chest and escapes his lips. It just happens as naturally as breathing. “You know, I never thought that it would be you that I fell in love with. But here we are. I would’ve torn apart galaxies with my bare hands and rebuilt ones that would shield you from any pain. I don’t know how you’re feeling but I do know how I am. I miss the big smiles that you would give people when they said something hilarious, I miss the genuine laughs that you only did when we were alone. I miss the way your eyes mimic the ocean waves and dance like the sea. I miss the soft press of your hand against mine, and how they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I miss you.” The same words that have been rolling off of his tongue for weeks come easy now, eyes not watering with tears quite yet. This is always the easy part. Simple things that anyone would miss when they lose their lover. However, Jack isn’t even close to finished and he knows his freckles will be stained with tears sometime soon.

“I miss the way you used to jump into my arms after you won a game despite being hideously dirty. I miss how you used to drag me out to look at every sunset because you wanted to find a beautiful part of every day…” His voice cracks at the end, memories swarming around like bees to honey. Every simple thing the fair boy did, probably without thought, now haunted Jack. The sweet gestures lived behind his eyes now, only as memories. A part of him wants to stop missing Ralph and just get on with his life. Live like a normal human being instead of one who can barely function without someone else there. He knows that eventually it will happen. It always does. Ralph has probably already moved on, found someone new to waste the days away with.

“Hey Ralph…” Jack starts tracing a pattern onto the knee of his sweatpants with his finger, eyes locked on the stars. Everything about the moment slows, the dancing lights in his peripheral, from a party in another building, the twinkling of the stars, the rush of wind against his face. Jack lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut, praying that one day, at some point, he’ll finally have an answer to the question that lays heavy on his tongue. All the sleepless nights and words that only he can hear lead to the same place. Like a winding road that always spits you out right where you began. All he can do is hope Ralph hears him, hope Ralph is right there with him whispering words to the moon that sits high in the sky.

“One day, will you love me again?”

#lotf #lord of the flies #lotf jack #lotf ralph #lotf jalph #jalph #my writing #oneshots #oneshot #i’ll add tags later

[staggeringsmite]

4, 8, 14, and 31 for the dm asks? (Also I hope you’re having a great day!)

thank you sola!!! i hope you're having a great day too <333 putting these under a cut bc it got a bit long

4. do you have any noticeable dm mannerisms? anything you’ve picked up from ttrpg shows or other dungeon masters in your life? or common tropes, themes, or encounters that reappear across your games?

aslkjlgkfjlgk i don't know actually? i have chronic "heard someone say this once and now it's a part of personality" so i think Most of my mannerisms are borrowed and i have no idea where from. i know i've kept "okayokayokayokay" from when ashley johnson was on in the cr1 days which tends to be my combat noise when it's my turn with npc's and the phrase hell yeah/hell yes gets repeated pretty frequently as my affirmative "cool hell yeah do that thing" phrase. as far as encounters or tropes i think dream sequences are soooo convenient and good and spicy for introducing some nice meta flavor naturally and narratively to analyze a character/characters. i love having them in my games because i think it's a great way to facilitate scenes (getting players to think about their character's state or jump-starting thoughts from the party members about a certain pc) or simply to get people thinking about what their character is going through more in depth. i also LOVE a good minigame session, festivals and parties with a competitive element and people running around to find their niche and do fun skill checks is a great way to get some dice rolling in a not traditional combat way and just to have a good time.

8. what types of stories do you like to tell? what is a game of yours incomplete without?

fuck capitalism and found family are givens i think <3 i just love and find comfort in focusing on love and community and chosen family and am not terribly interested if those themes in whatever form they are presented are entirely absent. but i particularly adore the bittersweet notes in a game. looking at wandering isles, which overall has a fantastically happy ending given the odds the pc's were facing, there are so many little notes that don't get that overwhelming, vastly fulfilling joy with them, they're messy and tinged with sadness and they make my brain go brrr extremely. i can't take credit for all of them because most had pc interaction at their core but to name a few: temish still being tethered to the mountain, his story being about sacrifice and him never being able to repair that bond with his sister over his decision to become this vessel, rosa's betrayal and being just an irredeemably flawed person that xarus has to cut off that hope of closure, eva admitting that she does not know who she is or who she would've been as the twin's mom that her first feelings towards them were not love when she got her memory's back and that she has a mountain of trauma and learning to love herself again to get through before they can hope to try and recover something (and that something never really being maternal because it just can't be + on this line therrin's death not being reversed at the end of the campaign) just to name a few. i live for this shit and think it makes the bright spots brighter <333

14. place you wish the pc’s had spent more time in or a plot hook they didn’t follow?

i just love all of the places in the wandering isles but as far as pacing goes and it being an airship pirate-based campaign it never made sense for you all to stay in one spot for a long time, i wish in general we could've seen a bit more of the big three organically (linde, geline, and malstova) because linde was such a vibrant atmosphere, and geline and malstova being the capitalist hellscape islands would've put a lot into perspective and maybe helped the revolution aspect that was big be more on screen for the party (though, once again, you were hunting down the singular world-ending entity and didn't have a lot of time either place to stop and check things out, and the plot didn't provide a good way to do so beyond these points)

31. best game snack/drink?

ooooh!!! pringles gang with jack because such a good quick chip to have for stress eating. snacking is very important with my blood sugar stuff bc we play for a loooong time some nights, so pringles and granola bars are #1. i usually eat a quick dinner before, so i'm not hungry until later in the session. as far as drinks go!! i love having tea with me (especially if it's in my little guy mug <3) and a big ass glass of water i have to refill a lot from talking all the time.

#<33333 #FINALLY answering the asks from the ask game i wrote aslkjglkfjglk #here we go!!! #ask #thats-the-moon-grey #thank you again sola!!!

[miss-choco-chips]

Janet Drake...

and the Orphans. She doesn’t care for them. Except when Timothy does, because then it’s a problem™.

----.----

The days following the circus tragedy found Janet constantly wearing a curious accessory. And by that, she means Tim was hanging on to her at all times like a stubbornly stuck belt or backpack, depending on whether he was clinging to her waist or shoulders.

It was a little suffocating at times, but to be honest, the cercany helped her frayed nerves as well as his growing separation anxiety. Because Jack had left, and she was still steaming over the fact.

Her husband, back home for the week, had left for the next dig site earlier than expected, scared away by Timothy’s nightmares and cries. As if it were weird for a four year old to be scared out of his mind by witnessing another little kid’s parents die in front of him. As if it was a minor inconvenience and awkward situation, instead of future therapy material for their kid.

‘Coward’, she thought, full of spite, hand carefully brushing Tim’s hair away from his forehead as he slept with his head in her lap, watching from the couch as Jack trudged down the stairs with his travel suitcase at the ready. 

She wouldn’t ask him to stay, though. Timothy deserved parents willing to stay by their own volition, no some half witted irresponsible man-child who couldn’t deal with a little emotional trauma. 

Like, Janet herself wasn’t the best at reassurance, but at least she was trying, dear god. That had to count more than Jack’s escape act.

But, useless husband aside, she was… worried. About her son.

Emotional trauma wasn’t something she could just intimidate into submission. Some desperate dream, like owning an island, she had the money to fulfil for him. Unknown attacker to eliminate? Sure, there were no lacking meatbags in the market for hire to...make someone else disappear. But dealing with stuff that included heart to hearts and love? Yeah, no. She always thought Jack would be the one dealing with that kind of thing, so she was wholly unprepared for it. It also wasn’t an issue she could just push into her friends; Both Nicole and Lex were equally as unexperienced (inept) in that area.

Though, they did offer some sound advice.

“Take Timothy to see the boy”, suggested Luthor during their weekly business call (or, as Nicole called it, their bitchfest, where they despised together about the concerning lack of braincells flowing in the rest of the corporate world). “He’s probably worried sick about two things: your safety, and the kid’s who he saw become an orphan. Maybe seeing him well cared for by Wayne will be soothing enough for him to relax a little. Fuck if I know. Now, back at my story… You wouldn’t believe what that empty brained, graceless twit Oliver Queen said then.”

So Janet followed his advice, both about the visit to Wayne Manor and not making business with Queen.

After the first uncomfortable five minutes where Tim tried to stutter a condolence out, the kids had taken to one another like fishes to water. The adoration was clear in Tim’s eyes, shining through his nervousness, like that damn bat signal broke through the clouds to illuminate the city.

And Richard, Dick as he asked to be called, absolutely laped at it, doing flips and jumps, each one flashier than the one before, enticing claps from his captive audience of one. He laughed when Tim asked his usual hundred questions, undeterred by her son’s enthusiasm. There were tinges of the sadness and mourning on his eyes, but they were chased away by the four year old’s joy whenever he told a pun.

Sitting at one of the tea tables overseeing the garden where the kids played, Bruce and Janet interchanged looks.

-It was a good idea to bring Tim over, Janet -praised the man.

-Of course -she replied primly, choosing to not inform him it had been Luthor’s suggestion.

-Dick hasn’t laughed at all since he came here… maybe we can set more playdates for them?

Timothy’s laughter in her ears, unburdened for the first time since that night, was all the motivation she needed to nod.

-Why take him in, though? -she asked after a few minutes of watching as Dick did a double flip, to Tim’s excitement.

-Dick… what he went through… it was like seeing myself, back then. I couldn’t just leave him alone.

A sigh, and a sip of tea. 

-Bruce. You can’t adopt every single orphan you come across. 

-----.-----

A little over seven years later, Janet downed a glass of champagne in two long sips, watching from the side of the ballroom as Tim approached the newcomers to his birthday party: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and his newest ward, Jason Todd.

-When I told him that, I didn’t mean it as a challenge.

-Hum? -asks Nicole, sharp green eyes on her godson, tilting her head a little to hear Janet better.

-Nothing. What are you looking at, that focused?

The woman gave Luthor, who completed their little group (god, reminders of high school much?), a side look. He returned it.

-I’m going to get started into the spa gift card -he said, apropos of nothing, before walking away, whipping out his phone and typing like a madman.

-What was he on about?

-Oh, nothing -mused Nicole, eyes still on Tim (who was, as always with the Waynes, a flustered mess, thanking them -and specially, their latest addition- for coming to his party). She took one of Janet’s hands in both of hers, finally looking away from the child to look at his mother. Nicole’s eyes were full of pity and amusement-. Be strong, Jan.

-What...?

----.-----

-...the fuck?

-Shhh, darling, breath. I told you, didn’t I? Be strong.

-What. Just… no. No. I refuse -he gestured, as graceful and lady like as she could given the circumstances- this. 

They were currently at Wayne Manor, celebrating with the Waynes the fourteenth birthday of the youngest of them. Tim, who had been very cagey and mysterious the last few months, had brought a potted flower. That, apparently, he grew himself, from a seed to the pretty little yellow sprout.

Alstroemeria, a beautiful flower which symbolises enduring friendship. Each of the flower's six petals represents the characteristics of understanding, humour, patience, empathy, commitment and respect.

That was the flower Timothy choose to gift Jason Todd, explaining as he did how he cared for the flower for weeks, telling it stories about Jason and asking it to give him good luck. Something about plants being magical, able to give off special vibes, and how he ‘trained’ it to do the same for Jason. 

It was adorable, and judging from the brat’s furious blush, he agreed. He took the hand-painted pot with utmost care.

It was revolting. She wanted to claw his eyes out, if only to get him to stop looking at her son like that.

Stop him from looking at her son, period.

-Shh -continued to sooth Nicole, quick hand slipping a card into Janet’s purse- There, an all day, full treatment, already paid for spa gift card, from me and Luthor. You’re going to need it. Timmy is eleven after all, hormones are bound to start kicking anytime soon.

She wanted to scream, especially when Richard, apparently tendered after Tim’s heartfelt gift to Jason, picked him up and started to spin him around the ballroom. Her son’s already rosy cheeks went full red.

-Damned Wayne and his godforsaken orphans. I swear to God I’m gonna sue him if he dares adopt another one.

Nicole, on her part, winced a little inwardly. Perhaps this wasn’t the right moment to tell Janet about her sister Talia’s spawn with Wayne.

#janet drake #janet drake is a good mom #Janet Drake au #Timothy Drake #dick grayson #jason todd #Bruce Wayne #Nicole Al Ghul (oc) #Lex Luthor #Janet is slowly but surely writting a hit list #the three top hits are on the Waynes #she leavse slots five to six open in case wayne adopt more kids #My writing

[verilyruth]

My inbox ate the ask and I’m not sure whose it was, so I’m sorry. I’m also sorry it took so long. I don’t particularly like it but I’m lazy so here it is.

Prompt (what I remember of it): Ravey; A Guide to Troubled Birds quote (I used one that was listed but I’m not sure what the others were).

  It wasn’t that he had never kissed anybody before, it’s that he never expected to kiss Him. Or, even better, to be kissed by Him. Realistically, he knew that He was out of his league. He was cool and funny and charismatic and could be with anybody He wanted. 

  They were never at the same type of parties, which made it all the more weird. Neither of them were drunk, neither of them were high, neither of them had been dared (as far as he knew), and neither of them had ever done this sort of thing. In other words: why the fuck was this happening?

  Not that he was complaining. No, he had had a crush on Him for years. And yes, he knew all of his friends would make fun of him for capitalizing Him in his mind but He deserved capitalization. He took up at least seventy percent of his thoughts (which his friends said was unhealthy, but whatever) and close to ninety percent of his journal entries (yes, he had a journal. Shut the fuck up, Jack, not everybody could paint their feelings). 

  He had imagined what it would be like to kiss Him but never that he would get to. He had been wrong about all of it too. This was so much better than anything he could have ever imagined. First kisses were usually sloppy and a little gross but this was perfect. It felt like it could go on forever.

  But then He pulled away.

  “So...how was that?” He asked. “Are you going to respond or just stand there with your mouth hanging open? Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute, but…”

  He was too wrapped up in the tingling feeling on his lips and didn’t have the brain capacity to respond yet. Here he was, the boy of his dreams standing in front of him, and he wasn’t about to blow it. He thought long and hard about what to say, conscious of Him staring all the while. Finally, he gathered himself together and spoke.

  “What the hell?”

  A satisfied, shit-eating smirk spread across Davey’s face. 

  “What do you mean, Race?”

  “What was that?”

  “A kiss. Was I...was I wrong? Did you not want that?” Davey asked nervously, completely shedding the smooth persona for a moment. “I thought you had a cru-” Race cut him off by placing a hand on the back of His head and crashing their lips together again. He felt Davey smile into the kiss and even laugh a little. Race, on the other hand, took this opportunity very seriously and refused to let this be anything but perfect. Who knew if he would ever get another opportunity to kiss Him?

  “Is that a good enough answer?” Race tried to seem confident but knew his voice sounded as shaky as it felt.

  “Yeah. So…”

  “So what?”

  “Can I take you on a date?”

  Race barely stopped himself from jumping for joy.

  “Yes! Of course. Friday at seven?”

  “Nope, I’ll be at shul. I’ll pick you up Saturday, same time. See you.” He turned and walked away. Race stood frozen in his place, trying not to keel over from excitement. Davey even managed to make going to synagogue sound cool and he wanted to go on a date with Race. Race. 

  Once he could move again, he ran back into the crowd towards his friends, yelling, “Crutchie! Crutchie! You need to help me pick an outfit!”

  Racetrack Higgins was going on a date with David fucking Jacobs, and he wasn’t going to look anything but his best.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fic #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #david jacobs #ravey #prompts #stella writes stuff

[alltheloveflowerh]

A Darker Blue

There aren’t many times where Y/N thought how proud she was of herself; not because she liked to put herself down but simply because a lot of things weren’t that big of a deal to her. Sure, her family and friends never stopped telling her that, but she never felt like it. 

But this time it was different, because certainly having an exhibition in quite a known art gallery with her own art had to be something she could be very proud of. Especially seeing it completely organised in this magnificent gallery, filled with people she loved the most and just simply people who actually came for her art. It was something she hadn’t felt in a long time, it was something like a dream yet so true that the words ‘’I did this, and I am proud of myself’’ kept circling around her brain waiting for the exhibition to finally be opened. 

Standing there as the owner of the gallery spoke to all the guests, introducing Y/N and her work felt unreal, even to her best friend who was standing right next to her and pinching her palm every five seconds.

‘‘Stop that, would you!’’, Y/N quietly hissed at Alex who just couldn’t stop pinching her, ‘‘Gonna kick you in the balls if you don’t stop.’‘

‘‘Sorry sorry, just- I’m really happy for you.’‘ He said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it lightly with a proud smile on his face.

‘‘Me too.’‘ She whispered. 

A lot of people approached her, saying their praises for her work and its beauty, each telling their own version of the story behind the art and what it evoked in them. It was refreshing hearing so many people say positive critics rather than hearing how broken and painful her art was. 

In the first few hours Y/N even managed to sell some of her art, well not Y/N exactly but a lovely couple actually asking how much it was even though she never had the intentions to sell it; not because she wanted to keep it but rather because she didn’t think someone would ask to buy it from her. So you could say the whole evening was going quite well until an unexpected guest showed up suddenly, storming her evening as he usually would. 

He just stood there, unbothered by anyone, looking at each piece carefully while Y/N watched him wide eyed from across the room. He didn’t look like Y/N used to remember him; his hair was shorter, but not too short, his barely grown facial hair he could never manage was there as well. A white shirt with little flowers hanging loosely on his body while a leather jacked draped his shoulders. 

Y/N wanted to believe it wasn’t him. She really wanted to believe that she was wrong and that it was someone else, because if he had the audacity to show up after-

‘‘Wait, s’that Harry?’‘ Her thoughts were interrupted with a very confused Divya hovering over Y/N’s shoulder.

‘‘It better not be.’‘

‘‘But I mean, he looks exactly like him so it must-’‘

‘‘Di.’‘ Y/N said in a warning tone.

‘‘No but seriously, look at his hands. Either that’s your ring on his finger or someone else has the exact same one, which is qui-’‘

‘‘Or you’re just blind and that’s not Harry.’‘ Y/N turned to face her best friend, looking quite pissed, ‘‘I mean you did forget your glasses at home, so.’‘

‘‘Oh go ahead, humour me.’‘ Divya huffed in annoyance; yes, she maybe was the clumsiest of them all, but she did not need to be remained of that. 

Before Y/N could say anything else, Divya’s eyes widened in terror making Y/N turn around to meet someone’s gaze who was standing right in front of her. Di quickly took Y/N’s hand into her own before coming to stand between the two in a very protective manner. 

‘‘It’s fine Di, you don’t need to protect me.’‘ Y/N chuckled at her friend, squeezing her hand.

‘‘I’m staying right. Not moving.’‘ Di stared into Harry’s eyes trying to act very tough, but her baby face did not help her one bit. ‘‘Not even an inch.’‘

‘‘Hi.’‘ It was the first thing he said after years. A certain kind of light filled his eyes, as he moved his head a little to look at Y/N. 

‘‘Nah, man, you should really go.’‘ Di followed Harry’s movements not allowing him to glance at her friend, causing Harry to laugh softly at how protective she always was. 

‘‘Di, love, it’s okay. You really can let go of my hand. I’ll manage him on my own.’‘ Y/N leaned in and whispered into Divya’s ear. ‘‘I promise, if I don’t, I give you permission to kick his ass.’‘ She added, making Di smirk in victory before leaving the two alone. 

‘‘What are you doing here?’‘ Y/N didn’t hesitate to become snappy, because she really did not want to waste another second since he really had no business being there. 

‘‘I-um, I’ve read in the papers about your exhibition, so I decided to see it myself.’‘ Harry answered nervously, fidgeting with his fingers. 

‘‘You hate the papers.’‘ She said, not breaking eye contact for a second. ‘‘They remind you of tabloids and you hate them.’‘ Her stare became more firm. 

‘‘R-Right...’‘ He looked down at his hands, ‘‘I’ve seen.. on your Instagram.. about it and then.. on-on Di’s stories ..’‘ He was noticeably nervous, considering that the once well spoken and calm boy kept stuttering and making no sense in his sentences. ‘‘And then on the Instagram of the gallery, I saw the other... informations and yeah..’‘

‘‘So basically, you’ve stalked me.’‘

‘‘What?’‘ He quickly looked up, ‘‘No, no! I swear I wasn’t, you just popped up and I just wanted to see what you were up to and.. I-I saw all that..’‘ He tried to defend himself but it wasn’t really helping his case. 

‘‘Ah I see, because everybody tries to keep up with their fuck buddy after they’ve dumped them.’‘ Y/N kept nodding with a sarcastic smile on her face, ‘‘Totally makes sense now.’‘

‘‘That’s not-’‘ Harry wanted to argue with her, and tell her how wrong she was, but he knew she wouldn’t have it. ‘‘You know I’m really proud of you, right?’‘ He looked up meeting her stern gaze, tilting his head a little, ‘‘And I-um, I’ve missed you.’‘ A small but hopeful smile on his face, trying to find something, anything in her eyes. 

‘‘You really should leave, Harry.’‘ Y/N looked down at her feet, taking a step back from him. ‘‘I never asked you to be here.’‘ Looking back into his eyes with pain filling her own. ‘‘I never wanted you here.’‘

‘‘I know I’ve fucked up Y/N, but please-’‘ Taking a step closer, he tried to reach her hand but she just jerked it away and moved back from him again. 

‘‘Hi there, I don’t think we’ve met before.’‘ Someone behind Y/N came into view, extending his hand to introduce himself. 

‘‘Yeah, we haven’t.’‘ Taking has hand for a light shake, Harry added. ‘‘I’m Harry, and you are?’‘

‘‘This is my boyfriend,’‘ Y/N quickly jumped in, panicking inside her. ‘‘Alex. This is an old friend, Harry.’‘ She put her arm around Alex’s pulling him closer to her while he gave Y/N a very confused look. 

‘‘O-Oh, I see. Well I’ll leave you two alone.’‘ Harry pursed his lips giving them a light nod before looking at Y/N one last time, ‘‘It was nice seeing you, Y/N’‘, and turning around to leave. 

‘‘Wanna tell me what was that about?’‘ Alex asked after both him and Y/N watched Harry get lost in the crowd of people. 

‘‘I-I.. I’m not sure.’‘ Y/N turned and looked at him, confused as ever. 

‘‘I mean, I’m flattered, love, but wasn’t aware we were an item.’‘ He smirked at her, knowing well how to poke fun at her. ‘’Didn’t know you’ve promoted yourself.’‘

‘‘Oh my God, please.’‘ She lightly pushed him away from her in embarrassment. ‘‘He’s...He’s just someone from the past.’‘ She added quietly.

‘‘Why haven’t you ever mentioned him or even, how come we’ve never met?’‘

‘‘Oh because Harry and I met before I even knew you. And I didn’t really feel the need to mention him...’‘

‘‘Because it hurts too much?’‘ Alex asked carefully, knowing how fragile Y/N could be and how hurt she was back when they actually first met. 

Y/N didn’t exactly answer him, but simply gave him a small nod. But in the end it was a great evening and an even better night despite the awkward encounter. Some of the art was sold, some of it was gifted but nevertheless, Y/N and her art have been praised not only by the people but the media who came to capture it all as well. 

At the end of the night, as they were locking up the gallery and saying goodbye to each others. Y/N one last time hugged her friends and family before stay with Alex, looking proudly back at the gallery with dimmed lights and her art inside.

‘‘You did good, tiny one.’‘ Alex said proudly pulling Y/N into a tight hug. ‘‘We all are very proud of you, you know that right?’‘ Y/N just nodded against his chest. 

‘‘We’re gonna have a proper celebration some day after this. We lot are gonna get so fucking drunk.’‘ Both of the started chuckling at that thought of all of them drunk in someones apartment. 

‘‘Gonna record it for sure.’‘ Y/N joked, ‘‘Sure is gonna be something to look back to.’‘ 

Little did Y/N know that Harry hadn’t left when he was told to and little did he know that the sight he was going to see was gonna make him vomit. 

Simply seeing Y/N in another man’s arms made him sick, it made him jealous. Even after years of not seeing her, not being with her, she still possessed a certain part of his heart, and quite literally possessed because she could do anything with it and he would still be back for her. 

His plans were to talk to her, approach her and apologise. Not necessarily forgive him because she had obviously moved on, but maybe just maybe he had hoped that seeing him would evoke some kinds of feelings to come back, no matter wrong of him that was to think. But little did he know that he was absolutely right, but he was never going to know that. 

Early in the morning when everyone was home asleep, Harry or Y/N were wide awake in their own beds and it would have been a lie to say that neither fell asleep with the thought of each other in their minds, reliving every moment they had spent with one another; from to strangers to lovers, from joy to pain, from love to heartbreak. 

Running fashionably late was something Y/N was best at, especially when it came to University. This time though, it ended up being quite the... experience.  As Y/N rushed towards the door, she didn’t really look around to notice some guys playing around and she definitely didn’t notice the two ones who were having a water fight. Well, she didn’t until one of the guys ducked and the water splattered her soaking the front of her white tee and her jacket. 

So not only was she late to hand over her assignment but she was completely wet while one of them was laughing his ass off. Y/N wasn’t exactly mad, she certainly was annoyed mostly because of the other guy approaching her with a huge smile on his face, probably trying to contain his laughter. 

‘‘I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I am so incredibly sorry.’‘ His voice was low yet harsh enough to sound like the one you get after waking up. Noticing her wet shirt, he add ‘‘Fuck, your shirt is soaked. I-, fuck, I’m sorry.’‘ His hand ran through his long hair pushing it away from his forehead.

‘‘It’s fine, I just really have to go, so please just-’‘ Y/N quickly said, trying to bypass him. 

‘‘No no please it’s not fine.’‘ The boy moved quickly not letting her pass, ‘‘Let me give you a shirt or something, it is my fault after all.’‘

‘‘No seriously, I’m running really late and the longer I wait-’‘ She had to stop herself because she would end up snapping at him, and he obviously didn’t mean it, ‘‘Please, just, let me leave. It’s all fine, I swear.’‘

Y/N gave him a tight-lipped smile before quickly moving past him and running towards the office to hand in her assignment obviously not caring about the state she was in. 

‘‘Mr. Davies I am so sorry for being late, there was this thing and then something else came up and then-’‘ She stopped her rambling, trying to catch her breath looking at a bewildered professor.

‘‘Should I even ask?’‘ Mr. Davies nodded towards her wet shirt with a concerned look, reaching a hand to take her assignment. 

‘‘Please don’t.’‘

‘‘Alright. Well thank you for handing it in.’‘ He skimmed quickly over the photographs in the envelope, ‘‘You didn’t write the name.’‘ Mr. Davies added.

‘‘The name?’‘

‘‘Yes, the name. Each student named their projects, and yours is missing that.’‘

‘‘Oh right, that. Okay, um, the name for it is No better Love.’‘ The first thing she thought of was one of Hozier’s song she loved, so she used that. 

Mr. Davies simply nodded at her dismissing her from his office. Leaving the office, Y/N let a shaky breath still a bit under the influence of running and rushing around. But of course she couldn’t leave Uni without encountering the guy that literally emptied a bottle of water on her. 

‘‘Hey, hey! Hi!’‘ A familiar voice could be heard behind it, getting closer with each second, ‘’Wait! Hi sorry!’‘ finally catching up with her, he touched her elbow slowly turning Y/N around. ‘‘Hiiii.’’

‘‘Urm, hey.’‘ Y/N raised her hand in a smile wave. 

‘‘Look I know you said it’s fine, but I know it’s not and so please let me get you another shirt because you are gonna catch a cold because of me.’‘ The boy explained himself, obviously sorry for the accident. ‘‘Plus it’s a great shirt; The Rolling Stones? I myself, love them.’‘

‘‘Yeah, um, they’re great, yea’. I’m sure I’ll just be fine, no cold and all that.’‘ It’s not that she was mad, she really was going to be fine, it’s simply just a wet shirt.

‘’No, none of that.’’ The boy said, taking his jacket and hoodie off revealing a plain grey tee with a little pocket on the left side of his chest. ‘‘I’ll just give you this one,’‘ dropping his clothes on the floor he took his shirt of as well, ‘‘I swear it’s clean, put it on just this morning.’‘ 

‘‘Wha-Wait, no, no-’‘ Y/N wanted to stop him from taking his clothes off, but he was already putting his hoodie back on and offering Y/N his grey shirt. ‘‘It’s really not necessary.’‘

‘‘Just take it, yea’? At least it’s gonna make me feel better.’’ A kind smile was on his face, and Y/N observed him for a few seconds, looking at each inch of his face. ‘’I’m Harry, by the way.’’ He added, offering her a hand shake.

‘‘Well, um, thank you, Harry. I’m Y/N.’‘ She smiled back at him, shaking his hand.

‘‘Do you wanna go to a cafe and grab a coffee maybe, or tea? And you should change your shirt in their bathroom as well.’‘

‘‘I suppose we could go for a cuppa.’‘ She answered after thinking for a few seconds, but then nothing could go bad so she accepted his offer. 

Little did she know. 

Going back to the memories, Y/N thought to herself that maybe she shouldn’t have spent the next 6 hours talking to a complete but very handsome stranger. And maybe then he wouldn’t have fucked her over and maybe she still wouldn’t be heart broken over someone from years ago. 

The restlessness wouldn’t let Y/N sleep, so she had to get up and make herself some black tea and simply let her thoughts wonder a tad more while sitting on a balcony cuddled up with a blanket. 

Needless to say that Harry was spending his night the same way; but instead of the balcony Harry was sitting on the floor of his bedroom looking out of the window and thinking of that one time he had visited Y/N’s atelier for the first time. 

It’s been a couple of months since Harry and Y/N first met, and it was safe to say that their little friendship-but-looking-more-like-a-relationship grew a lot as they spent more time with one another with each week passing. But that day, it was getting quite late when Y/N decided to take Harry to her atelier simply because he was nagging her about not painting enough and giving it easily up. 

Upon arriving to the building, they walked inside of a loft apartment that was turned into an atelier for Y/N’s uses. Harry observed each corner looking around and admiring it. Taking a few steps around it and simply enjoying the smell of paint as well as the displayed art that he knew belonged to Y/N. 

‘‘So from what I’ve gathered, you certainly are talented, you have so to say your own safe space to paint in, but what I don’t really get is, why did you stop?’’ Harry turned around facing her, ‘’I mean, I just don’t see it why, so please do explain.’’ He added, crossing his arms over and walking towards her slowly.

‘‘Well I just did..’‘ Y/N avoided eye contact by looking around the room.

‘‘So an art major, might I add, just stopped painting?’‘ Coming even closer to her, he gently turned her head and lifted her chin. 

‘‘Yes.’‘ It was her turn to cross her arms, while looking sternly but deeply in Harry’s very green eyes. 

‘‘Well, I just wanna know. How come.’‘ Their faces were only inches apart, while the tension between the two bodies grew with each second. 

‘‘But maybe that’s really none of your business?’‘

‘‘Weird, considering I’ve asked that question over hundred times till now,’‘ he moved his hand gently, making his from her wrist up to her shoulders. ‘‘And we’re quite close friends if I dare say so myself.’’  It came out as almost a whisper. 

 ‘‘Fair enough,’‘ deciding to play along, Y/N moved her head so close to his that their lips were only half an inch apart, but quickly moving her lips to his ear adding, ‘‘but I mean, we’re not really that close now, are we?’‘ 

Before she had the chance to walk away from him, Harry quickly grabbed her waist turning her around making her quite literally fall against his body. 

‘‘I’d like to think we’re..’‘ he placed his lips just almost against hers, ‘‘pretty close.’‘ He mumbled finally pressing his lips against hers. 

Her lips were as soft as they looked, rosy and sweet; the warmth of her cheeks quickly took over Harry’s semi-cold palms as their kissed deepened with whatever energy they had left in them. Soon the warmth from her lips and cheeks, took over his whole body as the coolness, caused by the silkiness of her hair (a feeling that simply wasn’t possible yet it became physical), fought with the radiating warmth. 

And the whole night turned exactly into that, sweetness and warmth, as they laid upon the white spread out sheets over the wooden floor making love to one another, as yet there have been no strings clarified. Then it turned into soft smiles and little shared kisses as very personal stories and feelings got out with the late hours each night would usually bring. That night, they showed each other their sweet and soft yet vulnerable sides but still refused to admit to themselves that perhaps there were strings and feelings.

It was something like the smallest confession that would save you the trouble, if only you could say it. But then you don’t, because it would show even more off of your vulnerable side which was something you just could not afford. Since vulnerability was something people were most scared of in this world. 

It was one of those nights that Harry kept coming back to with each time he had slept with another woman, and wishing it was Y/N instead no matter how wrong of him that was. Y/N was simply someone Harry could not forgive himself for losing and hurting. There wasn’t much he could do now, although it didn’t mean he would stop trying. 

A long while after their last encounter had passed, even though Y/N would argue and say ‘’Not long enough’’ but it’s still been over two weeks, she found herself in her atelier at 1am sitting on a pile of pillows on the floor while looking through the latest photos she took and observing them closely. 

She had just finished talking to Alex about the whole Harry situation that had started back in the gallery; Alex who couldn’t help but be curious and Y/N who just didn’t want to talk about him but did nevertheless since Alex was one of her closest friends and he kind of did deserve to know. What Y/N wasn’t aware of was that speaking of the devil, he would come knocking on the door. 

The same knock that startled Y/N to death because one, it was 2pm, second, no one had business even coming there and three, she was a very easy person to scare especially late at night. So imagine her surprise after looking through the peephole only to see a mop of perfectly brown little locks who belonged to no other than Harry himself. Debating whether to even open the door, she unlocked the door twisting the door handle. 

‘‘What the hell are you doing here?’‘ Her voice was low since it was quite late, but it came out as a hiss since she was getting irritated by him. 

‘‘I was walking around because I couldn’t sleep, and somehow I found myself in the neighbourhood,’‘ Harry explained himself, trying not to sound as nervous as he was, ‘‘and so I was your light was on, so I, um, here I am.’‘ 

‘‘You were in the neighbourhood, really.’‘ She raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at him; for some reason not believing him, ‘‘You know that you lost the right to be here a very long time ago.’‘

‘‘And you know I am the reason you continued to do art and now get where you are.’‘ He snapped back at her, before he could even think of what was going to say.

‘‘Now that’s just a really low blow.’‘ She couldn’t lie and say that that didn’t hit too close to home, ‘‘And untrue.’‘ She added, straightening her posture and crossing her arms over her chest. Taking a step backwards, she placed a hand on the door trying to close it on him, but before Y/N could do that Harry stopped her by putting his palm over the doorknob. 

‘‘Wait, I am sorry, that.. that really was rude of me.’‘ Pushing the door back a little he slipped through now having the door behind him. ‘‘Can we just,’’ he moved her hand from the handle and closed the door, ‘‘can we just talk, please?’‘

‘‘No! No, you don’t get to do that.’‘ Y/N jerked her hand away from him, completely mad, ‘‘You can’t just waltz in here like nothing had ever happened, demanding we do whatever you say.’‘ It seemed that whether she was talking to him or simply thinking of him, in the back of her throat she felt like crying. 

‘‘That’s not what I’m doing.’‘

‘‘That’s exactly what you’re doing, Harry!’‘ Y/N waved her hands around, ‘‘It’s what you’ve always done!’‘ she argued, ‘’You think you can waltz into my life just like that, make it a fucking mess and simply leave because you felt like it!’’

‘‘Y/N, ple-’‘

‘‘No! You can’t, you can’t make me feel everything all at once and then just fucking drop me like a piece of garbage, because-because you got bored.’‘ Anger filled her veins but tears were just about to form in her eyes, ‘‘And now, after years of not even speaking to me, even a fuck you would have been appreciated more than silence by the way, so now you decided to come back! Come back into my life and ask we talk.’‘ Not a single tear rolled down her cheek but her eyes became red as she was holding them back. 

‘’Hell, even I wouldn’t have the audacity to show up to an exhibition of someone heartlessly dropped like shit.’‘ Y/N added quickly, jabbing at Harry’s heart with each word she spoke as he stood there in silence. 

‘‘It’s not what I did, Y/N’‘ his head was hung low, and his voice small, ‘‘It’s not what I’ve wanted to do, and you know it, my love.’‘ Daring to look up,he looked at her glossy eyes feeling sick in the pit of his stomach. 

‘‘Don’t you dare call me that.’‘ She bit back, ‘‘You’ve lost the right to call me that.’‘

‘‘Right, now only your pretentious boyfriend Alex gets to call you that.’‘ He said in a mocking manner. 

‘‘Oh please, you’re the one to say that.’‘ A humours laugh escaped her lips as she added, ‘‘Only you can be called pretentious after everything.’’

‘‘Does he,’‘ Harry paused for a second, ‘‘does he love you the way I do?’‘ he spat the words filled with a sense of anger.

‘‘But that’s the thing, Harry,’‘ Y/N laughed ironically, ‘‘You never really loved me,’‘ containing the tears back in her throat again, she continued, ‘‘so why argue with me. Why bother coming to my exhibition? Why even come here, to my atelier, when you know I do not want you here. Why bother, Harry, when you never really loved me.’‘ It was hard to have this fight again, it was hard remembering it let along having it over and over again. 

‘‘I fucking loved you with everything I had! The problem was it was never enough! Wasn’t fucking enough for you!’‘ Harry knew that wasn’t the case and yet he said it; he knew that it was his fault their relationship fell apart.

‘‘It wasn’t enough for me?!’‘ Y/N yelled back at him, ‘‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’‘ She added pushing hard at his chest. 

‘‘That’s just utter bullshit, Harold,’‘ slamming her fists against his chest again with almost no power, she continued, ‘‘that’s not what happened and you fucking know it.’‘ Slamming once more against his chest before her forehead fell onto it, ‘‘you fucking know it.’‘ she added with a whisper. 

‘‘I’m so so sorry.’‘ Was the only thing he could say, before putting his hand on the back of her head, stroking it lightly while pressing his lips on her temple. 

The night wasn’t the worst night of their lives, but it was a close second or third. Their argument had been coming up for a while now, but neither really wanted to talk about it fearing with it might bring. But it simply couldn’t have been avoided, actually it could have if only they had talked when things were easier. 

‘‘We-, I just, you can’t keep doing this to me, Harry.’‘ Her eyes were sad, trying to look at him only to have him turn his head away. ‘’It hurts, okay?’‘ Y/N felt small and weak, and it wasn’t something she wanted to feel.

‘‘C’mon Y/N-’‘

‘‘No, but Harry it does.’‘

‘‘I’m not doing anything, Y/N.’‘ Harry ran his hand through his messy hair, letting a breath of frustration out. 

‘‘That’s exactly my point!’‘ Standing up, she came closer to him, ‘‘We’ve been doing this for seven months now,’‘ she waved her hands gesturing the space between them,’‘and even though I am all for not labelling people or myself, this has to be something more than just..’‘

‘‘Just what, Y/N?’‘ He dared to look her in the eyes.

‘‘I don’t know, fuck buddies, or whatever you call us.’‘

‘‘For fuck’s sake, Y/N, not this again.’‘ He slipped off of the chair, walking a few steps away from her.

‘‘Yes this again Harry. I get that you don’t feel... as much as I do, but if this is just us fucking, then,’‘ swallowing hard, she barely could continue but Y/N knew she had to, ‘‘then I don’t want it, Harry.’‘ 

‘‘But it is just that Y/N,’‘ Harry angrily said turning around to face her, ‘‘I mean it’s not just fucking, we do have some fun apart from that but that’s all it is Y/N.’‘ Lie. 

‘‘So what, you never thought that this could be something more?’‘ Tears were forming in her eyes as she was listening to their conversations. 

‘‘I mean, no not really.’‘ Lie number two. 

‘‘So you never felt a single thing for me, not even the smallest one, for the whole seven months we’ve been,’‘ the first tear ran down her cheek, ‘‘fucking?’‘ she added with disgust. 

‘‘Of course I did, I’m not that heartless, Jesus.’‘ He became more frustrated with himself and the whole situation, ‘‘But I just didn’t really think too much into it.’‘ He hung his head low in shame, mostly because he knew he was lying. They were all fucking lies. 

‘‘And while I spent the last few months showing and telling you how much,’‘ she had to stop and brush away a few tears away, ‘‘how much I love you, you never gave it a fucking thought.’‘ With that more tears started to fall down, and her heart slowly started to break. 

‘‘I care about you, okay?’‘  Harry tried to come closer and brush the tears away himself, but she just slapped his hands away, ‘‘I really do, but maybe you’re right. We should keep doing this, since I’m hurting you.’‘ 

‘‘No! Don’t try and turn this back at me, I do not want this to end. Hell, Harry I fucking love you, but I cannot keep letting myself get shattered by you because you want us to go back to fuck buddies!’‘

‘‘But that’s what we’ve always been!’‘ He argued back, ‘‘I mean, like I said, I deeply care for you but that what you and I are! Ever since the beginning I reckon.’‘ Fucking bullshit Harold, he thought to himself. 

‘‘Fuck buddies.’‘ Y/N wasn’t asking, simply saying it as a statement. 

‘‘Yes.’’ He would hurt her eventually, he just knew that, and this was a right thing to do, Harry tried to convince himself. ‘’But I’m sorry for hurting you, and I won’t do it again, Y/N, I promise.’’

‘‘You aren’t just hurting me Harry, you’re quite literally breaking me.’‘ The look she gave him after that sentence felt like the biggest punch to the face. Her sad eyes looking up at him while tears slowly fell down her cheeks broke him.

‘’I know baby, I swear I will make it up to you if you choose to be mine, and believe me when I say that I will make it up to you.’‘ Was something he was supposed to say, but instead this came out, ‘’I-I am so sorry, lovely, tha-that’s all I can say.’’ before turning around and quickly walking out of her apartment and with that her life as well. 

‘‘No, don’t touch me.’‘ Y/N pushed herself away from him, knowing well that she was the one to approach him but not because she wanted to, but because she literally felt weak. ‘‘Leave, Harry.’‘

‘‘I can’t.’‘

‘‘Yes, you fucking can. It’s exactly what you did years ago, didn’t seem to bother you then.’‘ She swallowed the hard lump she felt in her throat, pointing her finger at the door. ‘‘Leave.’‘

‘‘You don’t understand. I can’t, okay?!’‘ He pushed himself off of the wall walking slowly towards her, ‘‘The last time I did that I regretted it more than anything else in my life, and you wanna know why? Because I’ve lost the greatest thing ever, why? Because I was so fucking stupid and scared.’‘ He waved his hands around nervously, trying to take her hand or just get closer to her but she kept moving away from him.

‘‘Aw, isn’t that sweet of you?’‘ Her voice filled with sarcasm, sounding almost evil. ‘‘But s’a tad late, don’t you think?’‘ Suddenly a wave of confidence hit her as Harry’s vulnerability wall was collapsing. ‘’What exactly were you scared of? Me not loving you? Because I surely remember saying it quite a lot to you.’’

‘‘Of commitment.’‘ Admitting it to himself and her for the first time felt a like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but it wasn’t because Y/N made sure to put it back where it belong. 

‘‘Well that certainly is a shame, Harry. And I’m sorry to tell this to you, but you have to leave.’‘

‘‘Do you really love him, your boyfriend?’‘ He ignored her statement, ‘‘Like you loved me?’‘ He kept pushing her buttons, but Y/N wouldn’t let him as she would push back. 

‘‘Harry, I will not repeat myself again, leave.’‘

‘‘I’m not leaving. So just tell me, do you love him, like you love me?’‘

‘‘If you’re not, then I am.’‘ With that she picked up her jacket before Harry could stop her. 

‘‘What? No, Y/N, stop-’‘

‘‘Leave the key under the doormat or in the mailbox under my last name.’‘ 

‘’Y/N, no, please just don’t leave, okay, I’ll-’‘

But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N was out of the door and the building in a matter of seconds, disappearing into the night leaving Harry with nothing, just like he left her feeling years ago, hopeless and broken.

----

hii i really hope you liked this. do let me know what you think of it or didn’t like in it. i do apologise for any grammar mistakes or misspellings. well i really hope you liked it. :)

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry #styles #harry styles imagines #harry x reader

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 15x12 “Galaxy Brain”

CHUCK’S REALLY OUT HERE MARIE KONDOING HIS MULTIVERSE CLUSTERFUCK

-

05:16pm

45 days ago this show went into hiatus and i was like i’M GONNA WRITE ALL THE DESTIEL FANFIC

45 days later all i have is over a hundred thousand words of star trek: deep space nine fic and two failed attempts at destiel because every time i tried to write even the simplest, softest, shortest story, my brain would switch to depression mode and cease to function, only to be immediately rescued as soon as i gave up and thought about deep space nine again

hyperfixating autistic brain sure is a thing

i feel odd noting this, but i think a strange reason i’m less inclined to write spn fics right now is because i would always write from a place of dissatisfaction, because i disliked or distrusted where the story was going in terms of dean and cas’ relationship - except s15 seems to be going fine so i have nothing to complain about or fix (THIS BETTER NOT JINX IT OH MY GOD). even AUs don’t make sense anymore?? BUT THAT SAID i’m definitely not gonna stop trying. sometime soon the right story idea will Arrive and i will write it. and post it the same weekend because y’all have waited LONG ENOUGH

-

05:22pm

right!! let’s watch whatever this is. i have no clue what’s about to happen. they’re going to alaska right?? or did they already go to alaska and come back? i forget

edit: i guess alaska looked suspiciously like vancouver so i didn’t notice

-

05:24

ohhhh yeah i wondered when kaia would come after dean for michael breaking the spear

-

05:25

p R ES I D EN T  HI L A R Y  CL I NT ON

-

edit: but now i’m wondering.......... remember when au!bobby came and sat in the bunker with sam and a bunch of the au hunters, and sam basically did a powerpoint presentation and bobby was like “you have a racist pumpkin for a president” ? and how jack’s biological father was also the president? what’s the timeline on that? because if clinton’s doing a reelection then she’s had her 4 years already so that doesn’t match. THEN AGAIN, as we learn at the end of this episode, radio shed world is another au, so now i think about it, it doesn’t matter, the end. computer, erase that entire personal log

-

until the kid said “radio shed” my brain literally read the thing as “radio shack” regardless

and they don’t even have that where i’m from

-

“it’s monologue time”

THIS KID BETTER SURVIVE

-

“the world”

cue a tv shot of DEAN AND CAS 

??

-

radio shed is having a 50% off sale and there was only one customer?? just occurred to me

giant tv? in this economy?

yeah guess not

-

these AUs don’t spark joy.

“but they do”, with chuck pointing at dean and cas. “they challenge me”

CLEARLY THEY REFUSE TO KISS

-

05:31pm

CHUCK’S REALLY OUT HERE MARIE KONDOING HIS MULTIVERSE CLUSTERFUCK

-

05:32

when it says “our world” does it mean sam and dean’s world or THIS WORLD 

*edit* the former, clearly

-

05:39

aahhh i missed jody

-

05:41

somehow jack looks much older

-

05:44

i really don’t know what it is, but every time there’s a close up of sam’s face this season his face makes me very uncomfortable. it’s either tense or jumping around all over the place and i really can’t tell if it’s sam or jared having a face problem

-

05:46

thAT LIL DEAN CAS *CLINK*

i expect all the gifs on my dash by the time i post this

-

05:50

KAIA’S ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAY

TIME TO GET HER AND CLAIRE BACK TOGETHER

-

05:53

i assume “connect four” is also a metaphor for the family

or worlds

or something

-

CAS AND JODY NEVER MET????????????????????????? AFTER HOW MANY FUCKING YEARS THEY NEVER MET????????????

-

05:56

the graphic designer in me cringes at the magazine not-kaia’s reading, particularly the ad for bb cream. i mean it looks legit but there’s no brand name for a standard-name product (what kind of company would advertise like that??), and the text at the side is BLACK ON BLACK???????????????? HRHGHHGH

-

06:01

jody: “if we fail.......”

cas: “she’d never recover”

sounds like cas knows a little about romantic pining and heartbreak

-

06:09

WHY DOES CAS NEVER GET TO GO ON ADVENTURES

-

06:14

the sound of the thunder makes my spine tingly

feels relaxing

like... pretty sure that’s asmr, i get that soLELY from thunder sounds??

-

06:15

DEAN GOT A HUG FROM KAIA WOWOWOW didn’t expect that

-

06:22

billie: “the books write themselves”

gettin a lil terry pratchett vibe there. yee

-

06:25

it’s over. radio shed guy.......... oh no

-

WHAT A GOOD EPISODE. best part was them finding kaia and kaia giving dean a hug and not-kaia staying behind and her world coming down around her. i cried a little ;~;

loved how there was team free will + jack and then WOMEN of the same number, if you include billie, and discount the fact the reaper died the moment billie arrived

wow i really didn’t write much as i watched. but this was so absorbing! and smooth! and beautiful in so many places. i look forward to seeing claire and kaia happily reunited at a later time c:

i liked kaia and jack’s friendship. it was complicated and sweet, and kaia did look good in his clothes~

and when kaia and dean hugged, sam’s reaction smile was the most comfortable i’ve seen his face look all season. *thumbs up emoji*

ahh this was nice. i mean, everything was terrible, but it was fun and somehow soft. because Family Doing Stuff Together and saving one life even if it endangered the world forever

10/10

also? the women had very nice false eyelashes, which were very natural-looking, except for the fact that i noticed them and was constantly distracted by them

#spn spoilers #galaxy brain #post of postiness #15x12 #season 15 #spn #Elmie watches things

[91whiskeygirl]

Whiskey Hangover

*Inspired by Season 14, reader insert. Slight foul language, some angst and maybe fluff? Changed things up so reader can be inserted, DUH🤷🏻‍♀️**

Everything is blurry. Every muscle you have is too relaxed to react to the strong arms trying to guide you to the bathroom. It’s been weeks since Dean had invited Micheal into him. There was no time to argue with him about it, he didn’t even get to say goodbye to you. He didn’t even look at you when Michael took control and vanished. The emptiness hurt you enough to drink yourself to passing out . Puking your guts out in a toilet was pretty much your daily routine, no matter what time of day it was.

“Y/n, breathe, it’s gonna be ok, just take it easy” Sam said to you softly as he held your hair back. You hummed in agreement while your gag reflex finally settled, and sat back against the cold tile wall, your eyes closed. Your head started to pound something wicked into your brain and you tried to focus on the giant in front of you cleaning you up. Pushing his hands away you get up with what physical will you had left in you and staggered your way into Dean’s bedroom. You only hear Sam’s voice as a muffle behind you, asking if you were ok, and to lay on your side before passing out. “Sammy, baby I don’t need you to take care of me, alright? I’m fine! I’m just peachy.”,huffing and collapsing onto the bed. Burying your face into Dean’s pillow the tears started to fall, you clutched to it tighter. You were angry, sad, numb all at once. Sam turns you to the side and places the wastebasket on your side of the bed. He gives you a small smile and gently pushes your hair away from your face.

“When you get up, I’ve got a couple of Tylenol and glass of water for you.” You blink your eyelids heavily and give him a small smile back, reaching for his chin. His beard tickling your palm. “Still the sweet Yeti as ever. I knew I picked the wrong Winchester.” He exhales harshly at that and his smile fades, but you don’t notice it since you fell asleep. He didn’t know if you were just teasing him or you actually meant it. You always had a loose tongue on your feelings when you were drunk. he admitted to himself that he had feelings for you, not as a friend or as a sister; but Dean was always the rambunctious one and took the first step to ask you out years ago after that one werewolf hunt. He stayed on the sidelines hoping those emotions whenever you gave him bear tackling hugs or pranked him while he was researching to fade, but it never did. He tucks you in and slowly makes his way to close the door, taking one last look at you.

Two weeks ago

“We had a deal!” You hear Dean groaning, straining to keep himself in his own body. The veins in his body start to pulse out and you watch him turn into Michael’s vessel before your eyes. You supported Jack with what strength you had while watching the man you love turn into an archangel. Too shocked to say a word you end up on your knees as he looks to you, Sam and Jack, “Thanks for the suit.”disappearing to god knows where.

Your blood shot eyes open and you feel yourself sitting up quicker than you wanted to, blood rushing into your head, the hammering pulse of a hangover presenting itself.

“Fuck. Never should’ve taken up whiskey.” You rubbed your temples and sit on the edge of the bed. Noticing your mouth feels very dry you look over to Sam’s little gift, a tall glass of water and a couple of Tylenol on the nightstand. “Thank goodness for you Yeti.” You say gruffly as you down the hopefully pills that might get you through today. You’d hoped to stay in bed but the only cure for a hangover would be food, you change into one of Dean’s shirts and put on some jeans, not bothering to brush your hair you place it in a bun and brush your teeth. It had always bothered you that there was a sink in the bedroom, but now it was a normal appliance since you barely left the room unless you needed a refill of whiskey for your glass. You head to the kitchen and see everyone scurrying around like working ants in their colony. Ever since they were saved and went through the rift most decided to stay and fight for the cause. You didn’t mind having company since it deflected what you were doing to yourself. Everyone was too busy to bat an eye at you unless it was asking where Sam was.

“Good afternoon, y/n,” a deep voice called out to you from behind. Cas was still an Angel, handsome as ever, but you could see the toll it took on him to keep everything in order while trying to track where Dean, Michael was. You shot him a wink while frying up eggs and bacon in a pan. “Hey Cas, it’s too bad you can’t taste food like before, I make a mean hangover breakfast.”

“Are you up for joining me trying to find...Michael?” He saw how your body stiffened as he asked reluctantly.

“It’s still Dean,Cas. But no, I’m thinking of hanging with Mary and showing what I made for the armory. I’m physically not able to be of help to you.Wheres Jack?” You replied.

“With Bobby, he insisted on getting some physical combat training since his powers....” Cas trailed off. It was hard for everyone, especially Jack. You knew how it felt to have your father tell you lies while you selflessly believed them, because you just wanted to be accepted and loved by him. But Lucifer only used him, the result, Jack basically being human, not that you minded, it was nice not having to tip toe around the kid, afraid he might blow up a town for just sneezing.You inhaled the coffee you made and engulfed your breakfast.

“It’s 2pm y/n, I see you slept in.” Mary pats your back gently as you send her a smile. “Just a bit, but you need to see what I did in the armory. I might be drunk 20 hours out of 24 but I still can finish a project if I want to . “

You both head into the gun range and open a small trunk full of bullets, neatly organized. Shooting yourself an approval lifting your eyebrows and biting your bottom lip, you showcase the display to her. “So, Angel, witch, werewolf, and vampire killing bullets. I’m even working on a leviathan version but they’ve been pretty distant since Dick exploded. But, you always need a plan in case. I’m supposed to be good about that, I WAS good about that.” You tell her, shoulders starting to slump. No matter what version of what you thought could’ve happened if you’d planned it more carefully, it always shows the same outcome. Dean inviting Michael to be his vessel without hesitation, and him flying out to wherever the hell he is now. It pained you too much to think about it, you always end up thirsty for something stronger than your usual girly drinks to diffuse the pain in your chest.

“ This- this is amazing y/n! You did good.” Mary praises you, holding a vampire bullet into the light, squinting to examine all the details. Placing the bulletin back into it’s socket, she sighs softly and looks to you. “Y/n, I might not have been there enough for my boys, but I know that they care for you deeply, especially Dean. Please, don’t hurt yourself more than you already have. This isn’t your fault. He was desperate, we all were, to save Sam and Jack. This is all Lucifer’s doing. We’ll get him back, I promise.”

The tears start to well up in your eyes but you don’t blink them away, letting them fall freely down your cheeks. You close the trunk and place it on the shelf. Mary pulls you in for a hug but you don’t hug her back. Your too exhausted from last night’s alcoholic binge to care the empathy coming from your mother in law.

She understands enough to leave you to your own personal space. You walk on to the range with a target sheet, longer than you, having to jump to reach to clip it up. Putting on safety glasses you load regular bullets into your pistol and aim at the target, cocking it. Exhaling slowly and rounding your shoulders, you aim and fire. The bullet goes through first into the target’s chest, a second shot to the shoulder, another to the throat, then two to the head. You shrug not impressed. Though hungover you still had very good aim thanks to Dean teaching you. It became second nature to you.

Couple Years Ago

“You need to relax your shoulders! You’re like a little gremlin, you won’t aim where you want to y/n!” Dean voices raises at you, ear mufflers on you glanced his way disapprovingly.

“Well, maybe I need a bit more help than just telling me what to do! I may be hands on but I’ve never actually shot a gun before if you hadn’t noticed.” You gritted your teeth as you fired another shot, missing the target and having the bullet ricochet. “This is bullshit!” As you were about to place the gun down you feel Dean behind you too close for comfort, your breath stuck in your throat. You can feel the rush of heat starting to emerge from your neck to your ears then your cheeks as you turn pink from the unexpected contact. He takes your hand holding the gun as if he’s your shadow and guides your arm up level with your shoulder. His other arm around your waist, starting to tighten his grip you straighten up your back, involuntarily rubbing your ass against him. A tiny groan leaves him and you try to ignore it.

“Relax, you got this, aim and shoot, just like I showed you baby.” Whispering to you, feeling his breath on your neck.

Exhaling slowly you look to the paper target and three shots ring out, three holes in its face. “Holy crap, holy crap! I frikking did it! Haha!” You jump for joy, turning around to hug him tightly. His one arm still on your waist the other grabs your gun and uncocks it then puts it on the table. “You did great sweetheart, you’ll be able to shoot with a rifle in no time.” A big smile on his face as he leans down to kiss your lips. Your hands travel up to the back of his neck receiving a pleasant reaction from Dean as you reciprocate his kiss. “Well, luckily you’re my teacher. I might need some extra credit Mr. Winchester.” A glint in his green apple eyes and he carries you in his arms as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. “Dean! I’m too heavy!” “Sweetheart, I’ve carried you out of hunts many times. Believe me when I say you’re not the heaviest thing I’ve had to throw around.” Your arch a brow at him “throw around huh?” A smirk on your face as he carries you back to the bedroom.

“Y/n? Are you ready? Y/n!” Cas is waving his hands at you, making you snap back to reality. Blinking a few times you see Cas is ready with his gear. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even packed, I don’t want to waste your time, just go ahead without me Cas, I’ll be fine.” He gives you a disconcerting look. You stare back at him hard. No matter how long you’ve known the angel , the stare you give, he knows when to back off.

“I’ll, be, fine, wings. I’ll handle the bunker til you get back. Plus Mary and Bobby are here.”

With that he nods and heads out. You sigh heavily and rub your face down, deciding to look for Sam. The group that stayed back in the bunker are too busy to answer you, then you here someone call out.

“Hey Chief! We got a tip from a hunter of yours, says she might’ve sighted Dean.” Sam’s tall frame appears a few yards from you. His beard is scruffier and thicker than ever, the bags under his eyes show he hasn’t properly rested since Michael jumped his brother’s bones. You make your way to him as he sits in front of his laptop. Sensing your presence he looks up and gives you a grin.

“Hey, look who’s awake, sleeping beauty.”

You slap his shoulder gently and then lean over to see what he’s doing, you can smell his conditioner that he uses to keep his hair oh so soft and shiny.

“What we got Sherlock?” You tease.

He laughs sharply and tries to concentrate on the screen in front of him.

“ Get this, we got a tip where Dean could be, but he’s jumping everywhere. He’s frying up bodies left and right, the police are all over it. Eyes melted out of their skull.” Your neck tightens but you keep your composure. “Hm, classic angel-type of kill. So no location where he was last?” You ask, Sam shaking his head.

You straighten up and head to the mini bar. “Ok, so we know Dea-Michael, is grilling random people in random places. Great. He’s planning something but what the fuck is it?” You pop the glass bottle of whiskey and start to pour until a huge hand covers it and places it to the side. You look up to Sam and show you’re not accepting the rejection of your tonic, trying to grab it from him, only to raise it higher than you can reach. “Nuh uh. Didn’t you learn last night? You were keeled over the toilet for a good half hour before I got you to bed, hoping you weren’t going to drown in your own vomit, y/n.”

You sneered at him and tried to jump up to get the glass back.

“Yeti, it’s my own problem, if it helps me with what we’re dealing with so be it. “ he places the glass on the top shelf of the bar and you scowl. You reluctantly relax as he pulls you in to hug you. “It’s not going to help numb the pain you’re feeling y/n. It might feel like it helps but you’ll always end up feeling like shit at the end of the day. I need you to be strong. I need you.” With those last three words you look up at him as he looks down at you with his hazel eyes. You’ve never recalled being this physically close to the youngest Winchester, and you realize this is too close to be considered platonic. You don’t know if it’s because you’re lonely or you’re still drunk from last night’s binge, but you don’t feel anything wrong as you hold his waist a bit tighter than you should, clutching for dear life. You feel the heat of his back radiating on to your hands and your fingers spread to travel upward to the middle of his back, wanting to feel more of him.

“Ahem.” You both look to Bobby clearing his throat. Realizing you’re in the middle of the bustle of everyone, but no one can tell you’re holding his waist under his jacket, Sam let’s go of you and you cross your arms to face Bobby.

“We’ve got a problem.” Holding the phone out to Sam.

**Do I need to continue this as a series or what? So much slow burning of angst and almost smut I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.**🤷🏻‍♀️

#spn one shot #spnfanfic #spnfandom #spn season 14 #archangel dean #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #cas x reader

[beerecordings]

“You think you know what pain is?” Henrik to Anti. ;)

okay… I am proud to report…. I have this done.

Bee why did it take you so long??? CAUSE I WAS OBSESSED WITH IT FOR WEEKS OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS STORY. look it is unpolished AF alright maybe the most unpolished fic i’ve ever posted but that is okay cause i love it and I’m proud of it and if i want to clean it up later i can! also! you should know it is very long! so buckle up if’n you want to read it!

can you believe i wanted to have this done for schneep week i’m so late… but i loved writing it. thank you for requesting nikkil!!

Warnings for major abuse, blood and torture, pneumonia, and hypnosis with mild sexual themes (Anti kisses, strokes, at one point runs his hand over Jameson’s stomach. That’s the worst of it but no read if it will be too creepy)

Since writing this, I used it to create a story-blog about a variation of these characters (though this scene is not canon to that universe) called @my-brothers-corrupted. Feel free to check it out.

The Missing Piece

Citylights rush like wind across the glass of the window, casting him,intermittently, in gold and in darkness.

Doktorstares down at his feet.

Thedirty silver floor of the bus rattles against his torn up dress shoesas he shuffles uncomfortably, trying not to let his shoulder brushagainst that of the sleeping stranger at his side. Above the smell ofsweat and someone’s heavy magnolia perfume, the smoke of the citycurls around him in a gasoline purr, staining his mouth with thetaste of engines and fast food, dripping down his throat to sit inhis lungs, in his chest, near to his slow-moving heart.

Hewishes he had the strength to be annoyed.

Mosteveryone on the bus is silent, pressed against the backs of theirchairs or the cool, vibrating window panes, worn into quietude bylong days and long journeys. It’s late and everyone would rather beat home, asleep.

Doktorwishes he could sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.Sleep and sleep and not wake up again.

Themissing piece is the only one who seems to have any energy.

Glancingacross the aisle, Doktor’s eyes land on the boy’s black dress shoes,tapping rapidly against the floor. Higher up, he sees his worn handsgripping hard at the thighs of his slacks, clenching and unclenchinghis fists around the soft fabric. There is blood on his whitebutton-up shirt, but it is dark enough that no one has noticed. Smallmercies.

Jamesoncoughs frailly. His head is still but his eyes flicker wildly aroundthe bus, like the rolling pupils of a horse trapped in a house onfire. Henrik supposes he’s looking for help. For comfort. Foranything and anyone to save him.

Poorthing.

Jamesoncoughs again, a little louder. Doktor realizes he is doing it onpurpose, trying to attract attention to himself. Not easy with aguard dog at your side. Doktor shoots him a warning glare and thensits back, trying not to look at him.

Buthis hands are making a small sign, over and over again, shaking butdetermined, stiff but desperate –

“S,”signs Jameson, his mouth quivering. “C. H – ”

Ahand shoots out to snatch his wrist and Jameson jumps hard, curlingback against the seat of the chair, his face losing color in therapid-passing shadows of the city rushing past.

Redsqueezes the missing piece’s wrist so hard Doktor knows it willbruise black. Then he leans in, close enough that his hood brushesagainst Jameson’s downy brown hair, and he whispers – in words onlyheard by his brothers – with a voice so harsh as to cut the ear –

“Youso much as lift a finger and I will deliver your corpse to thedumpster personally.”

Thelight of a nearby casino rushes over the bus. Jameson’s tears areilluminated in gold.

“AmI understood?”

“Yes,”knocks Jameson, biting hard on his lip.

Redlets him go in silence and sits back.

Doktorsits back too.

Theyare just passengers like everyone else.

Amemory flashes across him the same way the lights do, here and thenleft behind in an instant.

Heremembers, with a nauseating effort of the will, a happier day, withJameson perched at his side just the same. His face was full of joyand he was smiling at him, his hands moving in rapid words now lessthan half-remembered. Their train raced past little white sheep inlittle green pastures, and Jameson spent half the trip staring at thewindow, slumping back occasionally to rest against Doktor’s shoulder.He was as warm as an engine against him, healthy, whole, andunharmed. He called him by a name Doktor can no longer recall.

Hecan’t remember where they were going or why. But he seems to rememberthat joy.

Thedarkness swallows him whole again. He closes his eyes and tries toforget.

It’seasier, these days, to obey.

It’seasier not to remember.

Thisis a time of pain.

Steppinginto the reach of the monster is a relief so heavy it is bettercompared to opium than home-coming. Outside Anti’s power there isconfusion, fear, guilt, and doubt above all else. Within it?

Doktorsteps across the thresh-hold of the abandoned house where they havetaken refuge and breathes in deep, shuddering hard as the darknesssteals back inside of him.

Bliss,bliss, bliss, bliss, bliss –

Hewishes he could spend every second of the rest of his life in thevery heart of Anti’s control, mindlessly numb, overwhelminglycontent, but unfortunately there is only so far his master canstretch, and so whenever he is sent away on missions like this one,he does his best to return home quickly.

Jamesonseems less relieved to enter the run-down little house. His wide eyesstare at the room around him, flickering over squirming rats andpatches of white mold patterned along the walls, until at last hisgaze lands on Trickshot, and he stiffens as though impaled.

Trickstares right back.

“Holyshit,” he whispers, and then his mouth breaks into a smile coldenough to re-freeze icebergs. “You found the little mouse. Donerunning, bitch?”

Jamesonflinches, turning his gaze away. Trickshot gets to his feet,approaching easily and grabbing JJ’s chin, lifting his face up to thelight.

“C?”signs Jameson frantically, forgetting his guardian for a moment.“What’s happened to – ”

Redsnatches his hands and yanks him towards his chest, throwing him offbalance and then shoving him hard to the ground, where nails and anundrying moisture found perpetually on the wooden slats of the floorpress against his palms. Jameson, mouth open with pain, gasps andcrawls backwards, clutching at the wounds from the fight –

Trickshotgrabs the boy by the back of his shirt and drags him to his feet.

Punishedfor speaking, Jameson makes good use of his large eyes instead,staring at what was once his brother with an undeniably agonizeddesperation in his eyes, reaching out to cling to the soft fabric ofthe torn grey shirt Trickshot wears.

“Getthe fuck off me,” snaps Trick in a voice so thin he can barely beheard, shoving his hands away. He decides to grip his hair instead ofhis shirt and Jameson scrambles as the pressure on his scalp pullshim onto his tip-toes, his face contorting with pain.

“Poorlittle thing,” purrs Trick in a babying voice, still rasping fromhis purple-bruised throat, using his spare hand to grab Jameson’schin and tilt his head up to what little light comes from theflickering overhead. “You beat him to hell, Hoodie!”

Theirony of this is that Trick is hardly better off himself. For everybruise, broken bone, and cut that Jameson’s body took tonight, thereis at least one match on Trickshot’s skin. His master has not beenkind to him. When it comes to a hierarchy, they all know whereTrickshot falls – the very bottom of the pack.

Tricktries to lift Jameson off his feet, but a sudden bout of coughingforces him to let his brother go. He doubles over, shaking handsclutching at his aching chest, and coughs so deep and so hard that itsounds as though pieces of bone are being shaken off his ribs.

Doktorwatches wearily, a little irritated. One more sickness he’s going tobe expected to fix. Red reaches over to smack the back of his head.“Do something, Deutsch!”

Yelping,Doktor grabs his smarting skull and staggers away, well wary of Red’stemper. “No medicine,” he whispers, scuffing his way towards theother room.

“Oh,that’s your fucking excuse? You’re supposed to be a doctor!”

Doktorhides his face in his hands, cowering against the wall, but all Reddoes is roll his eyes and turn away, shoving Trick to the side. Heheads toward the stairs, his victory only barely soured by hisbrothers’ stupidity. “Master, I found him!” he calls, smiling ashe moves down, down into the darkness of the basement. “I broughthim back for you!”

Removinghis hands from his eyes, Doktor turns to see if Jameson is afraid,but there is nothing in his eyes but worry. He’s helping Trickshot tostay standing, rubbing warmly at his chest. Trick does not have thestrength to push him away.

Andthen the darkness is upon them.

Jamesonwhirls wildly, his fighter’s hands out-stretched. Doktor catchessight of Trickshot staggering away, retreating from Anti’s attention.He knows it would be safer for him to run too, but he needs Antiright now – needs something to extinguish these thoughts in hishead – pity and guilt and concern, all useless remnants of a timewhen Jack was the one who pulled his strings.

Heneeds Anti to make his brain stop asking his mouth to say, Jameson,I’m sorry, run, now, while there’s still time –

“Arzt,”calls Anti’s voice, a whisper that echoes from every side, and Doktorjumps to attention, staring around him. “Bring my new little puppydown here.”

Jamesondoesn’t turn to run fast enough. Doktor’s grip on his wrist is tightas a blood pressure cuff.

“H-E-N-R,”he begs, and Doktor grabs his other hand and begins yanking himtowards the basement, dragging him across cold cement and oldbloodstains.

“Doctor,doctor, doctor,” signs Jamie again and again, using what littlemobility his hands have. He has begun to cry. Doktor will not look athim. Cannot look at him. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, brother,brother.”

“Child,be silent,” Doktor whispers.

Henever does anything more than whisper these days.

“Youwill only make this harder.”

Hedrags Jameson down to his master.

“Wereyou a good boy?”

“Iwas such a good boy,” Red swears, collapsed against Anti’s chest,his eyes shining with adoration. “I was so, so good. I brought himback to you, right back to you.”

“Yeah,you took good care of me.”

“Itook good care of you, you’ll be safe now. All the threats are gone.”

Red’seyes well with tears and he chokes, so overwhelmed with love that fora moment he cannot breathe at all. He shudders and puts his head downon Anti’s shoulder, stroking a hand through his hair. “I was nevergoing to let anything hurt you,” he promises, a sacred whisper.

“Iknow,” Anti soothes, running the flat edge of his blade alongJackie’s throat. “I know you weren’t, good boy.”

“Littlebrother,” hums Hoodie, daring to plant a kiss on Anti’s cheek.“Little brother. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Iwant to ask you something.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“What’sthe boy’s name?”

“JamesonJackson, Anti.”

“Jackson,do you like that?”

“Um,I don’t know. Do I?”

“Isthere anything you could shorten that to?”

“LikeJack?”

“Yeah,you could shorten it to Jack. Or maybe Jackie, would that be good?”

“Doyou want me to call him Jackie?”

Antigrins, dark and sweet.

Victorytastes like blood.

“No,sweetheart,” he purrs, pinching Red’s cheek. “Just wanted tocheck if that meant anything to you. You did so well today. You canhave something to eat tonight. Alright, time’s up. Get up. Good boy.Go sit with kitty for a minute.”

Simmeringwith pride, Red makes his way to the corner of the room and sits downat Blue’s side. The cat is sleeping, chained tightly to the wall, tooexhausted to wake up even for a newcomer. Red curls up fondly at hisside, playing with a length of his brother’s hair.

“Doc,”calls Anti warmly. “You come here.”

Doktorstartles, turning to look at Anti, adorned in blood on his throne, arotting wood chair in the basement. At his feet, Jameson Jackson isso unconscious Doktor cannot see his chest moving for air.

Antiattacked him like a shark in a frenzy.

Heldhim up in front of Doktor and Red and Blue one at a time and askedhim, mocking, which one of his big brothers would be the one to savehim now.

Promisedhim that it would be only a few days before he, too, was swallowedwhole by Anti’s power, begging like an animal for attention andaffection.

Beathim until his whole face was slicked in blood and bruises.

ButJameson did not beg or cry or complain. He took it with courage.Doktor remembers, very distantly, a time when he was more courageoustoo. Someone was torturing him, he remembers, but he tried so hardnot to give in. The details are slipping away from him.

“Deutsch,”calls Anti, a warning in his voice now. He does not like to wait.

Doktorhurries to his side.

“Howabout you?” he asks, getting up from his throne. He steps overJameson’s fingers. Doktor winces at a cracking sound. “Were you agood boy today?”

Whitewith terror and relief – Doktor does not know how he can besimultaneously so happy and so scared to see someone – he manages asmall nod, trying to smile.

“Youbrought the missing piece back to me, didn’t you?”

Anothernod. He can’t breathe. He wants to drown. With shaking hands, hereaches out, desperate for some comfort.

“Youdid well,” murmurs Anti, and takes him in his arms.

It’slike crashing into a river when you don’t know how to swim. But thewater is warm and he is little more than a corpse in its grip,sliding forward in Anti’s hands, a low groan trembling its way out ofhis mouth.

“Idid well,” he whispers. “I did, I did, I did…”

Henearly trips over Jameson and his eyes flicker down over his body,his poor face shattered into bone and blood, an agony written uponhis silent mouth even in sleep, and he is small and thin and so veryworn, still injured from the battle with Red, which must have hurthim in more ways than one –

“Doktor.”Anti has his mouth close to his ear, holding him tight. “You focuson me. Focus on master, there’s my good boy. You like being here withme?”

Doktorsways in place, swallowed by a wave of dizziness. “Yes, of course.”

Antitakes his chin gently in his hand and lifts up his head. Deutschmeets his gaze and shudders, and then smiles, his eyes glazing over.

Anti’seyes are dark and endless, colder than the stomach of the ocean,deeper than philosophy. Doktor chokes, collapsing against him,gripping at his brother’s shirt.

Theday is slipping away from them. What did he even do all day? Wherewas he?

“Closeyour eyes,” whispers Anti.

Doktorobeys. He always obeys. There is no other way to live. Just drowning.Just drowning. Anti curls his fingers through the hair of his nape ofhis neck. Yanks just hard enough to hurt, but Doktor doesn’t careanymore.

“Oh,I’m so tired,” Doktor whispers.

“Iknow.”

“You’rethe only thing I care about.”

“Iknow, baby.” It tooks him months to perfect this, but it’s done.Doc was his, and then the others, and now – oh, and now, his lastlittle missing piece. Jameson will be his too, soon enough, soonenough. “But listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes,Anti, anything.”

“Red,you listen too.”

Redjoins Doktor at Anti’s side. Jealousy stings through them both, butthey’ll bottle up the anger for later, taking it out on each other inunexpected blows and stitches tugged too tight.

“Ineed time with my new puppy. He has to be broken in. You two willkeep things running while I work. Okay?”

“Yes,Anti,” they promise in sync.

“Red,anyone gets too close or too suspicious, you’re the one who takescare of it, alright? Doc, I want you to clean this little bitch up atthe end of the day when I’m done with him. And get rid of Trickshot’sfucking cough. If I have to hear him wheezing anymore I’ll go chophis head off.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Good,then. Kitty cat, go with your brothers, you’re boring me.”

Blueopens pained eyes and drags himself to his feet. There is blood inhis hair. Doktor doesn’t remember who attacked him. Red takes hisbrother under his arm and leads him towards the stairs, pausing togive Anti a winning smile.

Hashe always had those scars, scattered like cross-hatching across hisface? Doc doesn’t think so, but he can never remember anymore. He cannever remember anything.

Forjust a second, he sees as though before his eyes Red and Blue inanother life, both smiling like twins, healthy and whole, unscarredand reaching out to him, the third star in their triangulum, a littlefamily, completely whole.

Wasthere a time before Anti?

“Goon, Doc-Doc.”

“Yes,Anti. But are you sure… are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Antilooks up, anger flashing through his eyes. Doktor backs slowlytowards the wall, turning down his gaze.

Hedidn’t mean to question. It’s just that he’s a doctor. He’s supposedto look after his brothers.

AndAnti?

Antilooks exhausted to the core of his being.

Athis feet, blood is leaking from Jameson’s eyes.

“Can’tbelieve this,” grumbles Red, pacing around the room. “Can’tgoddamn believe this.”

“Justgive it to me,” rasps Doktor. “No use complaining.”

Fuming,Red hands over vaporub and cough medicine and stalks away again. Thedull light of the paneless windows cast him in a cold evening light.

“Idon’t feel good,” moans Trickshot, writhing with fever in Doktor’slap. “I don’t feel good, I don’t feel good, I don’t feel – ”

“Hush,”orders Doktor harshly, shaking his shoulders. “Hush, you will annoyAnti.”

Trickwhimpers and falls into silence, but his rough breaths are scratchingtheir painful way up from a chest that is heavy with infection.

“Thisis pathetic,” gripes Red, glaring down at his little brother. “Hecan’t keep getting sick like this. We could have spent that money onfood if he wasn’t such a little bitch.”

“Ican’t handle pneumonia without better equipment. He needs to go tothe hospital,” mumbles Doktor, wetting someone’s spare t-shirt withwhat little water they have and pressing it to his forehead, openingup the chest rub with his free hand.

“Shutthe fuck up,” snaps Red. “You know we can’t do that. Keep himalive.”

Doktorcloses his eyes, rocking gently back and forth over Trickshot’s body.He stopped screaming or weeping or breaking down a long time ago, andnow he just shivers and rocks and hides his face when he needscomfort, understanding that none will come.

Redand Trick tell him he’s losing his mind. But it’s better than livinglike they do, devolving into panic attacks on the daily, so desperatefor Anti’s attention that they can barely function without praise anddirect orders. And meanwhile, Blue…

Redgrits his teeth at the low sound of skin grating against wood. “Blue,cut it out,” he growls, stalking over to drag his brother’s wristsaway from the sharpest piece of rotting wall he can find in thehouse. Blue’s collar jangles as Red pulls him to his feet and moveshim away. “You can’t even kill yourself properly, can you, kitty?Hey, hey, come on, look me in the eyes, you can do it.”

“Don’tmake him,” sighs Doktor, rubbing Trickshot’s chest slowly. Hisbrother stills under his hands, mumbling Anti’s name in what could bedreams or nightmares.

Redsighs and sits down with Blue slumped against his shoulder, strokinghis hair absent-mindedly. Blue doesn’t respond. Blue never respondsanymore.

“Youshould be more concerned about Trickshot,” whispers Doktor, in arare show of defiance. “He’s not well.”

“Don’ttell me what to feel, Deutsch. Ask me, you’re both wastes of fuckingoxygen. Hey, maybe he will die! It could just be me and Blue andAnti… the kid too, I guess…”

Doktorshivers, clutching Trick closer to his chest. Sometimes he’s scaredRed will kill him. Then again, he knows better than anyone where hisweak spots are – the slash in his stomach that JJ gave him in theirfight, the pains in his back they never seem to go away, everytrigger to send him into babbling terror, his eyes blown wide withconfusion and distress, screaming about the memories he’s lost –

Well.He just hopes it doesn’t come to a fight.

Bluebegins coughing low, low in his chest, trembling against Red’sshoulder.

“Oh,not you too,” groans Red, squeezing him close. “Oh, oh, Anti willbe furious if his pet gets sick. Doktor, stop it. My twin…”

“I’mdoing my best with vaporub and cough drops,” growls Doktor, tryingto get some water into Trick’s mouth.

Downstairs,Anti begins shouting. All four of them flinch as one, and Trick’seyes flash open full of panic.

“I’msure he’s going to finish with Jameson soon,” says Red, with bothadoration and terror in his mouth. “Then he’ll be happier. He’sjust doing what’s best for him.”

“Anti,Anti,” cries Trick. Doktor doesn’t know if he’s calling for him orcalling for help. Blue has gone so stiff he could be a corpse,staring dead-eyed at the wall. If he thinks anything on his ownanymore, he doesn’t show it.

Thisis a house of pain.

Doktorstares at the pathway to the basement.

Thisis a house of pain.

Whydoes he stay?

Hisstrings are slipping.

Antigags on a wave of weakness and throws JJ hard to the earth, steppingdown on his throat and turning away, taking deep breaths while thelittle one chokes.

“Glitchbitch,” signs the boy, between useless attempts to shove the footoff his neck. “Bastard, monster, virus, asshole.”

“Stupidlittle puppy,” croons Anti, pressing down on his throat. “Stillacting like you can defy me.”

He’shad Jameson for three days. It’s going well with the missing piece.Everday Jameson slips closer to his control.

Butthe problem is he’s stretching himself too thin. Even the bestpuppet-master can only move so many toys at once. Corruption takespower. It takes energy. Anti is running out. But he just needs tobreak this last little creature, this last little puppet. Just onemore corruption. He will not fail now.

“Iwill defy you,” Jameson promises. Anti finally lets up on histhroat and he draws in huge gasping breaths, slumped against theconcrete.

“Youdo your brothers a disservice,” says Anti. “Don’t you know theysaid the same? And now, what are they? I will make a liar of you too,little doll.”

Thebasement is cold as gravestone. Anti is the heater in the middle ofit, radiating warmth too heavily without any of it transfering to theroom around him. The only way to share his heat is to be touched byhim.

Hetakes a deep breath. For once in his life he needs to keep his calm.He leans down and puts his hands on Jameson’s wrists, falling to hisknees to straddle his hips, pinning him down against the stingingcement.

Jamesonturns his face away but does not protest. He is losing strength witheach day that passes. Anti knows how weak to keep him to stop himfrom using his powers, cutting frequent blood out of his back andstriking his aching head several times a day. He has not slept oreaten and any attempt to change the course of time will destroy him.He’s considering it.

Themoments where Anti tries to drag him under have become warm relief inthe middle of the torture.

“Comehere, baby,” purrs Anti, stroking his knuckles over his cheekbone,running his fingers across his mouth. “Come here, look at master.”

Jamesontries to get his hands together so he can sign the “h” thatbegins the word “hatred.”

Antigrabs a knife and slams it into Jameson’s shoulder. Pain sends hiswhole body into spasms, his body contorting with agony, his eyesrolling back in his head, and he is losing consciousness fast.

“It’sokay,” whispers a soft voice, and he knows it is Anti, but it couldso damn easily be any one of his brothers, torn away from him, couldbe Marvin or Henrik or Jackie or Chase –

Heis crying so hard he cannot breathe. When was the last time anyonetouched him? All he’s done for months is run.

“It’sokay.” Anti is stroking his hair. Stroking his stomach. Strokinghis wrists. He’s been starving to be touched and Anti is wonderfullywarm, even if his nails are overgrown and his teeth are just a littletoo sharp and one of his eyes is venomously black, a single greeniris shining down on Jameson’s smoke-grey face. “I’m sorry, I knowthis is scary. But listen, you’re going to be with your brotherssoon, right? You’ve missed them. Haven’t you?”

Hehas, he has, he’s been so lonely, he nods –

“Iknow,” sighs Anti, putting a firm pressure on Jameson’s shoulders,making his collarbone ache. He smells of blood and sleep. “Iunderstand. I can see every part of you, you know. I understandeveryone and everything. It will be so easy, once you’re mine. I’lltake that pretty clock and tie you up like Marvin and you can be mylittle puppy. No one will ever hurt you again. You won’t have to feelanything but this.”

Andwarmth and joy and relief and love come crashing over Jameson like ahigh, come flowing down the folds of his brain, trickling down histongue and down his throat, and he is melting like a witch in water,sinking down into Anti’s power –

“Openyour eyes,” calls a voice, gentle, gentle. He is held, carried,carressed. “Just open your eyes for me. Be a good boy. It’s alleasy after this. It will feel so wonderful. Open your eyes, Carver.”

That’snot his fucking name.

Justlike Doktor isn’t Henrik’s and Red isn’t Jackie’s and Trickshot isn’tChase’s and Blue isn’t Marvin’s, damn the glitch who stole his familyaway from him!

Hejerks up and slams his elbow into Anti’s nose, sending blood gushingfrom the demon’s nose. Falling back, Anti lets out a horrible screamof rage, the sound that metal makes as it grinds together, and thenhe is up again, coming forward again, holding a knife again, and whatcan Jameson do but cower?

“Iwill teach you pain,” Anti snarls. His teeth are gritted tight andhe no longer looks human. He is warm. He is too warm. He burns. “Iam pain and you will know me better than you know yourself, and then,before this is over, you will be mine, and forget the taste of yourown name, puppet kid.”

Doktordreams of bloodshed and video games.

Heholds a warm little computer mouse, shifting it across a pad on awooden desk. Everything is bright and clear and clean. He feels welland there is coffee next to his hand.

Fromthe speakers, a recorded cough and a splutter. A spray of simulatedblood hits the other side of the screen and Doktor adjusts in hisseat, reaching out to click on a button to order a lung exam for thepatient.

“Don’tworry now,” he narrates to the computer character, smiling at theblinking red eye of a camera near to his head. “The good Doktorwill make everything better, you will see!”

Thecharacter coughs again. Doktor realizes the game has not reacted tohis order. “Gah,” he growls, throwing up a hand and clicking onthe button again. “Come on, dumb machine.”

Still,the game does not respond. The character coughs and then groans,doubling over for a moment, its face still drawn into an unmovingsmile, dead-eyed and cold.

“Gottverdammt,”hisses Doktor, clicking once, twice, thrice. How frustrating, to knowwhat needs to be done and be unable to do it.

“Stopcoughing,” he begs, as the character shivers. “I’m trying to fixit. I will not have you die.”

Thecharacter reaches up to touch its chin and then draws away again.Startled, Doktor recognizes the sign for “please.”

“I’mtrying,” he says. “I am, I’m trying. I’m doing my best. I’m doingwhat’s right. I am, I am.”

Heclicks the button. Clicks, clicks, clicks. Why won’t it goddamn load?

“Stopdying,” he cries, slamming the mouse against the computer. Thetaste of copper is filling up his own mouth. His chest aches. A waveof heat rushes over him like sunlight exploding over the earth in themorning light. “Please, I’m scared, don’t die.”

Heneeds to get out of the whole program – he should get out of thewhole program – but how can he leave his patient behind? The othersare too sick to run with him. He cannot go until he saves them. Hecannot lose them! The memory of joy is sudden and present in hismind, but only for an instant, and then it is swallowed whole againby this terrible pain, pain, pain –

“Please!Let me save him!” he screams, and the character, deaf to his cries,is begging “please, please, please” in return, coughing harderand harder and harder. Blood drizzles down the screen. Doktor reachesout to touch it and his fingers come away red now, perhaps not sosimulated after all. He strikes the side of the computer and shakesit and click, click, clicks, but nothing happens, nothing saves him.There is only the heat of the patient’s fever and the dry heaving ashe chokes on pneumonia, bent over, collapsing, and Doktor lashes outtoo suddenly and spills his coffee, only it is blood that pours downfrom the edge of the mug, filling up the room like a flood –

Hedoes not scream upon awakening. Only gags, and whimpers, and rocks inplace, tears drizzling down his face.

Trickshotis hot at his side, trembling, coughing, conscious. Across the room,Anti’s twins sleep side-by-side, hunger and fatigue making themghostly in the moonlight, Blue touching Red with an out-stretchedhand abandoned on his shoulder.

“Trick?”whispers Doktor, trying to ground himself again, trying to banish thedream. He would call it a nightmare but he’s had far worse. “Trick,why are you awake?”

It’sstill dark out. It often is. Doktor guesses it is around three.

“Whatdid you dream of?” mumbles Trickshot, staring up at him withover-bright eyes. “Something nice?”

Hesmiles a little flicker of a smile, his mouth trembling.

Doktorsighs, calming. Just a bad dream, right? He’s not stuck. He’s notfrozen. He can take care of his patients. “Should not speak of it,”he tells him, pulling him straighter up, to help him breathe.Coughing must be keeping him awake. “You are weak. Go back tosleep.”

“I– I feel very weak,” concedes Trickshot. He sniffles and tearscome running out of his eyes. Doktor presses a hand to his foreheadand finds him burning. “Do you think Anti will let me die? Do youthink he will kill me? Did you dream of something nice?”

“Stop,Trick, stop, stop.” Doktor smooths down a bandage hanging off hischeek from where somebody struck him hard enough to break flesh.“You’re delirious. Don’t upset yourself. Go back to sleep.”

“Something– b-bright and lovely, maybe something where you were happy, didyou dream of – did you dream of something – ”

Hebegins coughing and must clutch at his heart, curling in on himself,agony coursing through his body. “Did you dream of something nice?”he stammers out, wheezing, working himself swiftly towards a completebreakdown. “Did you dream of – ”

“Trick,stop!” snarls Doktor, grabbing him by the throat in a sudden flashof fury. Trick gags and whimpers, collapsing against the floor,shivering in the cold night air.

Doktorreleases his throat, a rare twinge of guilt making itself known inhis stomach. As apology, he reaches out and touches the side ofTrick’s head awkwardly, frowning down at his blueing mouth. “Youreally are so sick,” he whispers, brushing down a strand of hissweaty hair. “Poor thing.”

“Don’tfeel good.”

“Iknow. Why don’t you tell me what you dreamed of, huh? I don’t want totalk about my dreams but you can. Did you dream of something nice?”

Trickshotpauses, biting his lip, and then nods, tears welling again in hisbright blue eyes. “A baby,” he whispers.

“Ababy?”

“Alittle dark-haired baby, so, so warm, so, so beautiful, and I washolding him and I reached out and he wrapped his tiny little handaround my finger and fell asleep in my arms.”

Doktordidn’t mean to make him cry. Trickshot devolves into sobbing againsthis brother’s stomach, shaking with fever and grief alike.

“Quiet,quiet,” begs Doktor, gripping at his shoulder. “Don’t disturbhim, don’t make him angry.”

“Mybaby,” gasps Chase, growing closer to death. “I want my babies, Iwant my baby, where is he, where is he, where is he?”

“Stop,stop, don’t say such things, Anti will kill you.”

“Antiwill not give me my child back,” weeps Chase. “Not even thememory of him, not even his name. I can’t remember my baby.”

“Trick,”says Doktor. “Trick.”

Andthen there is the static warning of their brother’s appearance, andthey both stiffen like scarecrows, curling in on each other as theywait for him to turn shadows into form.

Glitchessplit the air around them and Trickshot pretends to be asleep againstDoktor’s stomach, near to passing out anyway. Cold static ringsthrough the air like a tornado warning.

“Cleanhim up.”

Antiis standing behind him so suddenly that Doktor nearly gasps aloud,rocking faster and faster. “C-clean Trickshot up?”

“No,you stupid little bitch,” snarls Anti. He grabs him by the hair andDoktor gasps hard enough to hurt the back of his throat, staggeringupright. “Jameson. In the room on the other side of the house. Go.Let him die and you cannot imagine the pain I will inflict upon you,am I understood? Darling?”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Go.”

Hereleases him and disappears back into the shadow.

Tricklies at his feet, trying not to cough. Blood stains the corner of hismouth.

Doktorreaches down to touch him – but no, he cannot care for him, notnow. He must go the missing piece.

Panting,he abandons Trick to his coughing and heads towards the spare room.They think it used to be a kitchen once, before the house was halfwaydemolished and then abandoned, but now there is nothing but missingtile and cockroaches and one drawer full of knives in the corner.There certainly isn’t any food.

Jamesonis chained to the porcelain body of what might have been a sink. Heslumps back against the clay, his chin fallen onto his chest. He isbreathing, but only slow, only thin.

Doktorapproaches.

Litteredwith wounds, frail as a broken-wing bird. He coughs. Doktor cleansgashes and stitches them back together, wipes away blood and wraps upbruises, relocates a broken wrist and makes the boy scream, his eyesrolling back in his head as he staggers about between consciousnessand shadow.

Hecoughs.

Doktorreaches out to touch his cheek.

Hecoughs.

Doktorswallows back memories of him.

Bright-eyedbrothers moving like light through a window, clean whole faces andthe steady rising and falling of the breast, a smile on the boy’sunspeaking mouth –

Hecoughs.

Hecoughs.

Hecoughs.

Doktorburies his face in his hands and rocks, rocks, rocks, cries until hecannot breathe either; listens, despairing, to the coughing of hisbrothers, scattered like weapons cast aside through Anti’s house.

Howcan this be worth it?

Howcan this pain be worth it?

Fromthe darkness, Anti is watching.

Doktorwas the first one to lose the fight to his power, and now he is thefirst to feel the strings loosening about his throat. Something mustbe done.

Buthe is too tired to drag Henrik back under.

“Givein.”

“Iwon’t.”

Bloodsplurts from Jameson’s throat. His mouth jerks open in a horriblesilent scream and he writhes in Anti’s grip, tearing at the handsaround his neck.

“Isthat the best you can do?” laughs Anti. He lets Jameson go, his armgrowing tired from holding him up, and the boy collapses like a pileof flesh. “Really, no sound at all? Can’t you wheeze or something?I’m bored.”

“Bitch,”signs Jameson. He rolls back and forth against the ground slightly,trying to work through the pain, trying to stop crying. He doesn’tknow how much more of this he can take.

“I’mabout to cut your hands off if you don’t watch your tongue,” Antiwarns, sitting down beside him and drawing his head into his lap.“Come on, can’t you whine or something?”

Jamesonis bewildered on top of irritated now. “What the fuck do you expectme to do? Regrow my vocal chords? I can’t vocalize.”

“Maybeyou’re not trying hard enough,” grins Anti.

Exhausted,exasperated, pissed, Jameson holds up his middle finger and lets thatspeak for him.

Antihums and leans in close. Jameson shivers as he’s kissed, Anti’s mouthrunning feather-light across the stubble on his jawline.

“Getoff me,” Jameson begs, trying to push him away. “Please.”

“That’sbetter,” murmurs Anti. “Good job, puppy. Hold still and you cango in a minute.”

Hekisses his cheek, beneath his eye. His mouth is hot.

“Getoff me!” cries Jameson. Oh, fuck, suddenly he’s so dizzy. “Getoff, I hate you.”

Antipulls gently at his shirt, exposing his stomach. Jameson squirms,frightened, but with one hand Anti can hold him steady. The otherhand runs over his belly.

Thena knife, cold, cold, cold against his stomach.

Antisighs against the base of his ear.

Andthen he jams his thinnest blade like a key between the perfect slotof his seventh and eighth ribs.

Thenoise that Jameson makes –

Thenoise, a braying little gasp, a broken little screech from somewherein his lungs rather than his vocal chords, a choke combined with themovement that should make a scream, is not a noise that Anti realizedhuman beings could make.

Antiwishes he had recorded it. He could play that on a loop and destroycivilizations with the high it gives him.

He’slaughing so hard it hurts to breathe.

“Doktor!”he calls, shoving Jameson off his throat. The boy shudders againstthe floor, slamming his head against the cement as his body overtakeshis brain, far more conscious than he’d like to be. “You’re goingto have to bandage this up for us, darling.”

Notlong now. Not long.

“Please.”

“Shutup.”

“Please,please, H-E-N - ”

Doktorshoves him hard back against the porcelain sink to which he is onceagain chained. Jameson gags, weeping. “Brother,” he cries,undeterred. “Why won’t you save me?”

“God,please!” Henrik screams. “Stop, stop, I can’t take this!”

“Pleasehelp me, please help me, I’m scared, I’m scared, soon he will make mehis, I can’t take any more, please save me, I love you.”

Henrikscreams and tears at his hair, falling back. He’s been cleaningJameson up every night for a week. They are both reaching breakingpoints.

“Deutsch!”cries a voice from downstairs. Red, he thinks. “Blue can’tbreathe!”

“Sithim upright!” he calls back, trying to raise his voice above arasp. He tries to push himself back up to kneeling and a nail thatonce held floorboard pierces his palm, making him gasp.

“It’snot working!” Red cries. “It’s not enough!”

“Doyou think I’m hiding oxygen up here?” Doktor shrieks. “What doyou want me to do?”

Redis weeping. It’s a new sound for Doktor, but he doesn’t have time tocare. Blue and Trick are just getting sicker, and Carver’s going toget an infection if he doesn’t bandage him up, and he never feelswell anymore, and nothing is right, nothing is right, nothing is –

Jamesoncan only reach his brother’s out-stretched hands. Teary-eyed, whiteas smoke, he grips Doktor’s wrist gently and rubs his thumb up anddown the veins at the heel of his hand.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Hedoesn’t draw away.

Jamesontugs his hand closer and presses his forehead to it, massaging hispalm, holding him tight.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Jamesonshivers and clings to each one of his fingers, examining the valleysand ridges of his swirling fingerprints. Brushes against his veinsfrom heel to thumb. Squeezes tight, tight, tight.

Doktorcan’t remember the last time anyway touched him gently.

“Stop,”he begs. “I can take no more.”

“Henrik,”says Jameson, releasing his hand to finally, finally make the namewhole. “Henrik, brother, help me. Let’s go. There’s still time.”

Thestrings are slipping. The strings are slipping. The strings areslipping.

Butthey are still tight enough.

“I’msorry, Jameson,” whispers Henrik.

“No,no,” begs Jamie. He tries to grab his hand again, but Henrik isdrawing away. “I need you to remember who you are.”

“I’msorry,” whispers Doktor. “I am. I’m sorry. But I am also Anti’s.You don’t understand what he would do to us if we tried to escape.There is no running away. He will haunt us for the rest of our days.Better to stay, and be good for him. I am Anti’s.”

Jamesoncurls in on himself like a child, wrapping his arms around himselfand hugging himself tight. He rocks against the sink, sobbing.

He’slost. He’s lost. It’s over.

“Soonyou will be too,” promises Doktor softly. “And then…”

Heknows he should say that things will be better.

Buthe can’t lie.

Thisis a life of pain.

Twilightmakes the floorboards grey and lilac. The air smells of dust, ofblood, of starvation.

Doktorsits slumped over Blue, staring, corpse-like, down at him, bleedingsluggishly from the palm of his hand as he tends to his brothers’illnesses.

“They’regoing to die, aren’t they?” whispers Red.

Inhis weakness, Trick has regained his favor, and both he and Blue areclose at hand, tucked up in the only blanket in the house, shiveringside-by-side, asleep. Trickshot wheezes with every breath.

Doktorcan’t even answer. He washes sweat from their foreheads and massagestheir chests with vaporub. Nothing else to fucking do.

“Ican’t – ” Red breaks off, covering his mouth, squeezing his eyestightly shut. “I can’t watch them die.”

Doktorhums a brief affirmation, staring blankly at Trickshot’s hollowedgrey cheeks. It’s a little too late for Red to start caring.

“Deutsch,”whispers Red. He touches Doktor’s hand.

Henrikjumps hard, turning to him with astonished eyes. Red’s hand is gentleon his own. There are tears in his eyes.

“Whatdo I need to do to save them?”

AndHenrik recognizes, suddenly, a light that he had forgotten evergraced Jackie’s eyes.

Aprotection in his outstretched hands, a courage in his stiffenedmouth, a light in his bright blue eyes.

“Holyshit,” whispers Henrik.

Doubt.Doubt. Rebellion. It sits between them, curled in the heat of theirfevering brothers and the wounds that litter the boy upstairs likeconstellations, in the memories that sift, slow, patient, throughtheir awakening hearts.

“Sauerstoff,”he manages, swallowing hard.

“What?”

“Oxygen,”he rasps.

“Wheredo I get that?”

“Youwill have to steal it. Once you stole computer code from the centerof a secret Ministry of Defense facility just so Anti could eludethem. You will be able to take oxygen from a hospital. Masks too,blankets, and medicine – bring me paper, I will write it all down.”

Whiteand silent with stress, Jackie brings him the torn wrapper of theirlast jug of water, and Henrik scratches names into it, recalling,with the smell of hand sanitizer in his nose, what it was to be areal healer.

“Youmust go quickly,” he murmurs, pressing the wrapper into Jackie’shand.

“Iknow,” Jackie answers, soft. “If I’m not back before Antirealizes I’m gone…”

Hewill kill him. The words stand silent in the air between them.

Henrikcan almost remember his name.

Henrikcan almost, almost remember his name.

“Doktor,”murmurs Jackie.

“Red,”Henrik answers, exhausted.

Hiseyes say go carefully and Jackie’s answer very well, as youwish, we were brothers once and in the memory I have forgotten thehatred he fostered within me.

Jackiesqueezes his hand, kisses both Blue and Trickshot goodbye, and goes.

Heknows he will be killed for the transgression of abandonment.

Buthis pain might be salvation, and the word “hero” rises once againin his mind, like a tattoo uncovered, impossibly forgotten,permanent, chosen, lasting.

Upstairs,Jameson grows weaker.

Thereisn’t much time left.

Antiwakes up.

Thisis unusual for him, having never actually lost consciousness before.His waking thoughts consist largely of what the fuck, what thefuck, what the fuck?

Didhe pass out?

He’sslumped downstairs on his little throne – hardly more than ablood-painted chair, but he loves it like a knife – and he doesn’tremember falling asleep.

He’sweak as a ball of cotton.

Panicrises in him like fire and he tries to get up, without success,panting hard. For a moment his whole body becomes as static, heavyand faraway. His tongue is leaden and stinging in his mouth and hishead collapses back against the wood of his chair, leaving himmotionless and terrified, fainted in his own throne room.

He’snever passed out before, he’s never been weak, he’s never used somuch energy, he didn’t realize he had a breaking point and he needsto stop –

No!screams the rest of his brain. The dizzy spell recedes as a wave fromthe ocean and he staggers to his feet, snarling at the world aroundhim, which continues to defy him. I won’t be stopped now! I’m sovery close. So very close to the perfect victory. Their stupidpersistence can’t stop me. I will hold all five of them at once,puppets from my hands.

Hespares a burst of pure hatred for his creator, who gave him justenough brothers to be a challenge.

Butnot enough to stop him. He will be victorious.

“Doktor!”he screams, dragging himself to the bottom of his staircase. Deutschappears shaking in the light above him, his eyes flashing quicklybetween all corners of the house. Anti can almost taste hisdisloyalty, but it does not matter. He must break his last littlecolt, and then he will reign in all five of his stallions, if ittakes every whip in the world. “Bring my the little brat,” hehisses, sinking back into the darkness. “We end this tonight, onceand for all.”

“Where,”whispers Anti, “Is your resistance now?”

Jamesonlies shivering. Jameson lies shaking.

“Ihave shattered it,” Anti tells him. He reaches down, slow, and runshis knuckles across Jameson’s cheek, scarred and blood-stained.

“Youwere not the one who shattered it,” Jameson answers, closing hiseyes.

Thedemon stands above him like a shadow, pierced by thin beams of lightforcing their way through the tiny windows at the tops of thebasement walls. Blue and green eyes coat Jameson in a unique form oflust, a power-hungry possession, a wolf that has gained a taste forhuman flesh.

“Youlove your brothers very much,” murmurs Anti. “After all they havedone to you.”

Hesits down, criss-cross, at Jameson’s side. Pulls him into his lap.Takes his hands into his own.

“Bemine,” he says. “And they will love you again too.”

“Isthis what you call love?” Jameson manages.

Heis slumping down against Anti’s shoulder, exhausted.

“Youdon’t know the first thing about love.”

“Whata pity,” Anti giggles, grabbing his wrists and pulling him evencloser. “I must be missing so much.”

Blood,blood on Jameson’s face.

“Poordapper darling, pretending to be strong. Your heart is broken andyou’ve been dying for a long time, running from me every day, runningfrom your family. Aren’t you tired?”

Jamesonis hiding against his chest. Tears soak Anti’s shirt.

“Poorthing,” whispers Anti, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I know.It hurts. I know. Poor, poor dapper.”

Careful,he reaches power out. Feels Jameson’s heart, racing with terror, soweak and so vulnerable.

Hewraps a string and breathes through a wave of dizziness.

Jameson’shands tighten on his shirt.

“Thereyou go,” whispers Anti, rubbing from his shoulder to the small ofhis back. “There you go, it’s okay. Stop crying so hard, littleone. Hush, hush. Here I am. Don’t be afraid.”

“Anti,”signs Jameson. Anti does not know what he is begging for and he doesnot care. His sign name is a slit throat ‘A’ and it makes him laugh.“Anti, please.”

“Lookat me,” Anti orders, taking his chin in his hand. “Look at menow.”

Jamesontries to hide, his eyelids fluttering. No, no, no…

“You’reso tired.” Anti’s fingers are soft, warm, loving against his faceand throat and hands. “So, so tired, poor little puppy.”

Andhe is, so, so exhausted, so tired it could kill him. All he wants inthe whole goddamn world is to lose himself in sleep, in power, inAnti…

“Lookat me,” says Anti. He hates him, he craves him, he owns him. “Lookat me, Carver, Dapper, Monochroma. Look at me.”

Jameson’seyes open. Dapper’s eyes meet his own.

Hot,rushing, overwhelming, terrifying, ecstatic, adoring, all-consuming,all-consuming, all-consuming; Carver gasps and sinks down in Anti’shands, reaching up to be held, an agony of possession writhingthrough his body as he collapses like a bird dead in the air andlanguishes in the dark, endless eyes of his older brother.

Antihas him.

Carverblinks, and closes his eyes, and sinks.

Sinkslike a mink sinks in the mouth of an alligator.

Downonto Anti’s lap.

Andwhen his brother traces his hands across his scalp, stroking gentlehis downy brown hair, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Antihas him.

Joycrackles as a current of electricity through his body and Antismiles, letting himself curl down around Chroma’s body, pulling hisnew little puppet to him, running his hands over his flesh, tastingthe sweet copper taste of an implanted adoration, touching hisfingers to each one of the cuts he has spent the last two weekscutting into Dapper’s skin –

Aword of alarm flickers through his system. Anti sits up, his eyesfixed on the opening to the room.

Thereare footsteps coming towards him.

Hetries to get up, but dizziness pounds through his simulated skull andhe collapses back onto his throne, gripping at Carver’s shirt. Heover-exerted. Used too much power. He’s never been so tired in hislife. He could fall asleep right here, slumped over his littlebrother’s body, holding his new puppet close… his eyes flicker andglitch and he sways, drifting…

“Ican bear this no longer.”

Anti’seyes snap open.

Inthe doorway, Henrik.

NotDoktor.

Henrik.

Antican’t feel his hold over him.

Hetries anyway. “Go back upstairs, Deutsch.”

Dappershivers in his lap. Anti grips a knife warily, staring at Henrik’stwilight silhouette.

“Ican bear this no longer,” whispers Henrik.

“Arzt,”hisses Anti, glaring him down. “Go back upstairs. Now.” Hestrains his energy on the last word, reaching out for Henrik again,wrapping strings around his throat –

“Shutyour fucking mouth,” hisses Henrik.

Andstranger still is the look in his eyes, because, for the first timein his life, Anti doesn’t understand the emotion that he’s looking atin another’s face.

“So,”he drawls, rubbing Dapper’s back, just to mock this rebellious littlepuppet standing before him. “My strings got too loose, huh?”

Henrikmoves forward. His hands tremble.

“Upstairs,two of my brothers are dying,” he says. “Red – no, Jackie –has suffered so much at your hands that for many long months he hasdesired only to be yours, so full of hatred we all bear his marks onour flesh. I myself have hurt for years now because of you. Havenightmared, have scarred over, have shattered like ice into crystal.And this boy you have given me to care for for the past week. Eachtime I saw his face, each time I held him, bleeding in my arms, Ihave regained a little of myself. That is not because of you. That isbecause of me. Your strings are looser, yes. But I am the one whotore them off. And that is because you know nothing. You think youknow what pain is, Anti?”

Hepulls from the pocket of his torn khaki pants a stained scalpel.

“Answerme,” he snarls.

Antiis glaring at him now, teeth bared and drizzling blood. His skin isgreen and his eyes are black. He is not human.

Buthe shares the mortal propensity to fear.

“Yes,”he hisses back, draping himself over Jameson’s body like a wolf witha fresh kill. “And I will teach it to you for months and months andmonths, little one.”

“No!”screams Henrik. “No, you don’t know the first goddamn thing! Notyet, Anti! Not yet!”

Antineeds to get up. He has to get up. He cannot glitch at all; his fleshis so still it is painful, but he must rise nonetheless, he muststand nonetheless, he can still get up, even in his weakened state,surely –

Theweight of Jameson’s sleeping body across his lap is too heavy for himto move. He cannot even put his hands on him. He is losingcorporeality. He can see through his palms. This has never happened.This has never happened. This has never –

Feartastes like copper, copper, copper, blood.

“Painis love turned against you,” groans Henrik. “Brothers made toenemies and left to bleed on the seat of a bus, left to choke todeath in abandoned houses, wearing belled collars and clutching atwounds that will never heal. You think you know what that is?”

“Henrik,get away from me,” hisses Anti. Electrical signals buzz distortedlythrough his brain, making the whole world too bright and tooconfusing. He coughs and blood comes welling up in his mouth.

“Youwill,” promises Henrik.

Hiseyes are consumed by darkness.

“Iwill teach you what it is. Because Anti, Anti, Anti! Pain is weaknessand then, later, strength. I have suffered until the madness came,and arisen from it powerful, powerful, powerful. Be afraid, Anti. Iwill teach you what is pain.”

Anti’scoughing pierces deeper and deeper as his body begins to glitchapart. The more he tries to blacken his eyes and consume Henrik’swill, the more power he loses, and the more he falls apart. He cannotstop coughing. He cannot breathe.

“Youare nothing!” he shrieks, nearly hysteric with mad fervor, with howgoddamn close he is to having everything he’s ever wanted! So manybodies strewn aside, so much corruption and patience, so much time,effort, planning, blood, torment! No, he will not lose now! He willtear this whole world apart if that is what it takes! “I will ripyou apart like tendrils of dog meat!”

ButHenrik is no longer afraid of him. He continues forward, staring intohis black eyes, free of him.

“Iwill turn you against yourself,” he promises. Here is a threat toterrify, and Anti cannot help but shove himself against the back ofhis throne, straining away. “Tear you down into all the things youpromised yourself you would never be. Kill you with your own blade.Oh, I’ve hated you for so long.”

“Oh,no, Doktor,” giggles Anti. At least there is some humor to be foundin that. “No, no, no, you’ve loved me, adored me, prayed in my namefor months now. Even before I used power to make you mine completely,you would beg for a scrap of bread as you starved, for a touch ofcomfort as the pain killed you, for someone to kiss you and wipe upthe tears – ”

Henrikswings with the scalpel.

Anti’sbody finds the strength somewhere to glitch and he goes crashing tothe cement, scrambling away from Henrik, hatred and blood wellingfrom his mouth. He can’t stop coughing. It hurts. “Red!” hescreams. “Red, Blue, come here now!”

“Theytoo have abandoned you,” hisses Henrik. “Their brotherhoodovercomes your own.”

“Impossible,”Anti shrieks. “Impossible.”

“Youare alone,” says Henrik. “As you were always meant to be. I toldJameson you were inescapable, do you know that? Strange. Just daysago, you seemed deathless. But I have been watching your collapse.You have made yourself mortal. Maybe you will haunt us, after all, aghost, a memory. But you will never lay a hand on my family again.”

Anticoughs until he is sprawled against the earth, writhing in blood, inchunks of his own lungs, in hatred. He tries one last time to stopHenrik, and even makes him stagger back, confused, torn – but thislapse in control is enough to make the boy on the throne jerk back toreality, staggering to his feet and coming to stand at Henrik’s side,grabbing his hand and assuring him, comforting him, standing withhim.

Together,they are stronger than he is.

Forall that they have suffered, Jameson and Henrik are stronger thanAnti, stronger than hatred, stronger than blood.

Henrikraises the scalpel, and teaches his tormentor pain.

Teacheshis tormentor weakness.

Jackiereturns with medicine and food and masks and oxygen, filled with herocourage, hero strength, brother love. Marvin and Chase breathe. Antidoes not.

Henrikand Jameson cling to each other.

Nomore running. No more fighting. No more abuse. Just family. Gone isthe darkness. Here is the light, their stars, their brothers, alive.

Andfrom then on, when pain comes and they are haunted, well, the five ofthem face it together, as they did once before, and some day, oneday, soon, health and joy will come like sunlight in the morning,warm as the ashes of a fire proud and bright.

“Yousaved me,” says Jameson, warm against Henrik’s shoulder, trustingagainst his chest. “You saved me.”

“No,” says Henrik. “You, little brother, are the salvation Ihave longed for.”

#jameson jackson #antisepticeye #jse egos #bee writes #tw torture #tw hypnosis #tw pneumonia #tw abuse #so many ideas i just needed to get out there and this hit on so many of them #might polish it up one day and get a real story out of it #hope you enjoy #dapper and badass