parkswritessometimes

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Last One Standing AU content 👀👀

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AU version of Yellow I made with @itsonlyparker

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Yellow & Rocket Corp

The first story in mine and @kalcifers-blog where Yellow was left in the shack to try to re-summons Alan's cursor and shut down the virabots while her friends help The Chosen One fight The Dark Lord. Unfortunately she is one of the lone survivors in that fight, escaping into the woods moments after she watches her friends disintegrate into nothing but red code in the breeze. She is left to wander for days until she finds a poster asking for information that she is more than happy to provide.

Three days. Three fucking days of wandering streets that all look the same. Three days of getting odd stares and sideways glances. Trying not to break down from the simple thought of her dead friends and failing miserably. She just has to keep walking. She doesn’t know how or why but she knows it will solve her problem. Just keep moving forward.  

She takes a deep breath wiping her face dry of tears as she looks at her surroundings. It’s all the same. No distinct landmarks or natural landscape to help her guide her way, just buildings that stretched so high they practically took over the sky. No trees with distinctive markings, no mountains that grace the horizon, no temples or villages, nothing. Just the same repetitive buildings with buzzing signs and angry people. 

That’s probably the worst part of this whole thing. No one wanted to help. She was completely surrounded by people but no one to help. Everyone saw her with her dirty clothes and greasy hair and turned the other way. Small pitiful glances and hushed judgmental whispers were the only interaction she had for days. 

She misses her friends. She misses her home. She shouldn’t even be here. She should be at home on the couch with her laptop fans whirring so loud everyone would joke that it’s about to take off. With Blue in the kitchen cooking something amazing. Red and Ruben all up in her personal space and Green’s legs sprawled across her and Sec.  

She even misses Alan. In the beginning he was a bit cold and distant, only really wanting to talk to Second, but he grew to love them all. Play fights and little pats of affection from time to time. He’s even started to  judge their build battle.  

Guess that’s all over now.

Her fingers brush up against the concrete buildings guiding her way to nowhere, when she realizes there is a sudden change of texture. Paper. She looks up to see what her hands find only to take a step back at the image staring back at her. 

Blurry photos of a man flying through the sky, fire shooting out of his hands, lazer’s shooting out of his red eyes and a long black trench coat billowing behind him in every photo. That’s him. The man who abandoned her at the bay. Who ran like a coward and left her stranded in this unknown world. 

Yellow rips the flyer down, her eyes drawn right to the big bold letters at the bottom of the poster. REWARD. Hopefully it's cash. Get her something to eat or a place to crash for the night. Where does she need to go? Rocket Corp? She’s seen that building. It was tucked away toward the bay with big looming fences and barbed wire, a promise to harm anyone who dares step foot on their territory. A building that just seemed to build more and more upon itself, like the owners were never fully satisfied with it so kept building. Yellow folds the piece of paper and shoves it in her pocket for safe keeping. She turns on her heel and takes off down the street, past all the shocked stares and odd glances of people she’ll never see again. She doesn’t care. There's people that can finally help her.  

Yellow stares up at the Rocket logo, the giant hole in the middle staring back down at her. Judging her every movement. Like if she so much as breathed wrong she’d be shot on sight. Which isn't the worst thing. At least she’d be with her friends. She walks forward breaking eye contact with the stupid logo, and walks through the huge gap in the fence. She follows the concrete path to the huge steel door and just waits. There doesn't seem to be a handle or a way in only a little panel to scan a pass. “Hello!” She shouts out to the empty lot. “I have information on the Chosen One!” She pulls out the piece of paper from her pocket and waves it in the air. There has to be cameras around her somewhere. No place is this guarded and doesn’t have cameras. She just has to make enough noise to get someone’s attention. 

“Your flyer says to talk to you if I have information! I have it! Can you let me in? Helloooo?” 

Beep

Beep

Beep

Whoosh

The door is wide open, a silent invitation to come inside. Join them in whatever secret goes on behind the concrete and metal walls. 

 The building is cold, not just in its temperature but in its atmosphere. Grey walls and with no decor to give them life. No plants to give anyone fresh air, nor windows to let in any natural light. It’s lifeless. It’s cold. The only thing alive is a woman in a grey uniform behind a desk, and even she looks like she’s had the life drained out of her by this building. “Hi.” Yellow says, her index fingers drumming against the concrete grey desk. 

“Hi, you said you had some information for us.” Her voice is soft and sweet, a soft smile on her face and sympathy in her eyes. Has-Has this been the first time someone has looked at her with something other than contempt and hatred in their eyes since the fight? 

“That’s right.” Yellow whispers swallowing the lump in her throat. “Why don’t you take a seat over there and my bosses will be right with you.” She points just past Yellow’s shoulder to a little waiting area against the wall. It’s nothing fancy, a few simple black chairs and a matching little sofa. 

Yellow shuffles over to the sofa and sits down. It’s lumpy and the faux leather is cold to the touch, like this seat has been neglected for years, but despite all that, it's the comfiest thing she’s felt in days. Oh how low her standards have dropped. It used to take so much to even get her to consider sleep. She had to have Blue in the bed above her, everyone else already had to be sleeping, and she had to have her favorite fluffy blanket. But now, she was so exhausted that this bench was good enough to fall asleep on. 

“Here, you look like you need this.” The woman hands her a little protein bar and a small cup of water. Yellow puts the cup to her lips, the cold water sending a small chill down her nerves. Her dry throat cries for relief as the water slides down and into her empty stomach. Her teeth sink into the chocolate bar and her tense body seems to melt as soon as it hits her tongue.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” The women asks 

Purple? Mango? She doesn’t know their numbers and her phone is back on Alan’s PC. She’s not even sure if they’re in this world. Last she heard they were bouncing back between their homeworld and Minecraft. They’re probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away from her. “No. I don’t think so.” She mumbles looking down into her cup. “Okay. Stay right here.” Yellow nods and leans back against the couch, sinking into its subpar comfort. Her eyes close against her will, and her lead lulls forward. Almost as if her head was too heavy for her body to support it. She jolts back up, refusing to fall asleep in a random corporation’s lobby and takes another bite of her protein bar. 

Stay awake. Stay awake. You can sleep when you’re in a hotel room in a proper bed. Yellow thinks to herself. She digs her chewed fingernails into her palm, the pain forcing herself to stay as alert as she can. 

A door opening in the far corner catches her eye. Two men walk through, one an unnatural shade of grey skin making him look like he was made out of silver and a man with sunglasses hovering right behind him. They both go up to the women who was just doting on Yellow just a few minutes ago. Their voices are hushed murmurs, their eyes shifting towards Yellow then back to each other. Yellow forces herself to shrink into herself to take up the least amount of space as possible. “Hi there,” The silver man says as he sits down next to Yellow. His arms are crossed like he’s guarding himself from a threat that is just looming out of sight.“My friend Coral over there says that you have some information on The Chosen One?”

“Yes, sir I do. Him and The Dark Lord.” The two men exchange a glance, having an entire conversation in less than a second. She’s not exactly sure what the look communicated but it must have been something good considering that they both return her look with a soft smile and an extended hand. “Why don’t you come with us and tell us what you know, and afterwards we can get you some proper clothes and food. Sounds good?” 

Yellow nods taking the hand in front of her, letting them pull her up to her aching feet and lead her down the corridor of endless doors and hallways. Machine after machine, the whirring of gears, workers in the same grey jumpsuit like workers in a hive obeying their queen. Which from the looks of things seem to be the two men in front of her. “Take a seat.” The silver man says, opening the door to another lifeless room. Metal chairs and table are the only thing adorning the room. A mirror that she could’ve sworn was a window just a few seconds ago hangs on the wall next the door. A sinking feeling drags Yellow’s stomach down to the floor. She’s seen enough cop shows to know what this is. An integration room. 

“Alright then,” The grey one says as she pulls out the lone metal chair. “I’m Vic, and this is Agent.” Huh. Weird names but then again, not even close to the weirdest thing she’s encountered this week. 

“I’m Yellow.” “Okay Yellow, why don’t you tell what you know about the Chosen One?”

Oh creators. Where to even start?

“Oh well, I live-lived on a PC. And it got infected with a virus. I–I don’t know how, we didn’t download anything, it just showed up and a few minutes later The Chosen One did too. He made a complete mess of the computer, destroying everything to get rid of the virus before leaving through a portal thing. And we followed. I don’t know why but we did. And then we were in the middle of the fight, and The Chosen One and The Dark Lord were trying to kill each other and I know computers I thought I could shut down the bots he was using. Or at the very least stall him out. And I did my best, I really really did! But I-I’m not strong like my friends so I kept trying and doing my best while they fought and then…” they died. They were killed. Right in front of me. The words are caught in her throat, unable to leave her tongue. But they seem to get the message. The tears she’s been holding in for so long finally stream down her face in little rivulets.  

“We understand. We’ve also lost loved ones to that monster. Can you tell us what happened after? Where they went? ” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yellow nods, wiping the escaped tears from her face. “I saw Chosen running, fleeing from the fight, and into the forest. I knew I was next and kinda forced a full wipe of the Dark Lord’s PC and sent it into a reboot loop before running. He–He looked right at me. I thought-I thought I was going too…” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain further. Thank you for telling us.” “Of course.” “We just have a few more questions. One of our employees, he was by the bay that day and he took this photo,” Vic slides over a glossy photo across the metal table letting Yellow take it from his hands. Dark and Chosen fight in the corner and she can see the shack where she and her friends hid out but that clearly wasn’t the main attraction of the photo. Because right there in the center of the frame is Alan’s cursor. “Do you know how this got here? Into our world?”

“I brought him here.” “You-You brought him here? You can do that?”

“Yeah, I thought if I could bring him here he could help us. So much for that plan.” Vic’s face seems to twist into one of confusion and shock. She’s not entirely sure what she said that was so wrong but it must be something horrible to elicit that sort of response. She shrinks into the chair trying to evaporate from their gaze. “Will you-Will you excuse us for a second?” Vic mutters, his voice a little tighter than it was just a second ago.

“Mhm” Yellow replies, continuing her attempt to just disappear into thin air. Both the men get up from their chairs, with Glasses-Agent, pressing his hand against Vic’s back as they walk out. The door closes behind them leaving Yellow trapped inside. 

Yellow groans as she melts into the metal desk, her arms a perfect cushion for her throbbing head. The silence, something she used to cherish more than anything else in the world now feels soul crushing and something to fear. Red isn’t here to burden her with a million questions, Green isn’t here to drag her out to her drum set to make a beat for a new song he wrote, Blue isn’t going to invite to the kitchen for a big meal. They’re all gone. Dead. Without a body to bury, and a grave to mourn at. 

She’s all alone. She’s the last one. A sob makes her chest lurch forward and her head spin. She should’ve gone down to the beach. She shouldn’t have been a coward hiding in the shack trying to bring Alan back. It wouldn’t have worked no matter what she tried. Fucking useless Yellow. Built for a website that was quickly abandoned, for a fight she could never win, and when she was set free gained an interest in something that was never useful for combat. Pathetic. Pathetic and useless.

“Yellow?” Yellow jolts her head up to see Vic sitting in front of her again. Another sad smile plastered on his face. “Coral told me you don’t have anyone to go back home too? Is that right?” “Mhm.” “Okay well, we have a health room here, do you want to go lay down for a bit? Get some rest while Agent and I sort some things out?  Maybe freshen up a bit while you’re at it?” 

“Yes. Please.” She replies with no hesitation, like the offer would disappear if she thought about it too long. 

“Great, follow me.” Yellow takes the hand offered to her hoisting herself back up on her aching legs. 

Back down the grey hallways they walk, her tired eyes causing the doors and windows to blur into a huge mess. Her shaky legs are barely able to keep herself upright, but she forces her feet to move forward. No matter how painful it is. She can do this. It’s a hallway. She can conquer a hallway. 

She’s conquered an Elder Guardian, escaped Purple’s parkour trap, stopped King from destroying an entire universe, saved countless lives and was regarded as a hero in villages across the land. And yet, all of those obstacles seem so small in comparison to this stupid hall.

“Here we go.” Vic’s voice warbles, somehow far away and right beside her at the same time. 

This room is much different than the others in the building. It's warm and feels alive. The colors weren’t just plain grey and black, but splashes of blues and greens decorating the walls and furniture. Her eyes land on a faux leather couch with a pillow and a thick white blanket all folded up for her. A pile of fresh clothes and some water sit neatly on an end table. But she’s so exhausted she can barely acknowledge it.

She shuffles towards the couch, feeling so much like the zombies she used to fight. Not quite dead, but definitely not alive either. She crashes on the couch pulling the blanket up to her shoulders and falls asleep. Finally safe for the first time in days.

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Check out @kalcifers-blog art of this AU!

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Read it on a03

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I can’t wait to show everyone what we’ve been working on! 💜

Did anyone ask for a AVA Yellow centric AU ???

The Last One Standing AU by me and @itsonlyparker :33c

CW: topics of grief & loss, manipulation, & major character death

More info & extra drawings below the cut !!!!!!

Info Text :

Yellow stayed behind in the shack during the fight in AvA 8 while everyone else helped TSC fight TDL (she did this to try and bring Alan's cursor back)

She ended up witnessing CG being killed by TDL and TCO escaping the scene (unbeknownst to her is that Chosen had taken Second with him, she assumes Second is also dead since all of their bodies disappeared into particles) She manages to stop TDL from doing anything else by destroying / deactivating his tech, making sure there's nothing else he can immediately use to cause any more damage.

She runs away, trying to find anywhere to go - eventually finding TCOs wanted posters and going to Rocket Corp to give the information she has, Victim and Agent personally question her and take pity on her after learning that she has no way of getting back home because of the same person that also ruined their lives. Yellow stays at Rocket Corp.

18 months later & she's a full time worker at Rocket Corp, quickly proving herself to be useful with her inventions. She's officially Victims prodigy - he utilities their shared grief to get her to build more weaponry so they can eventually take down TCO and TDL.

She's drowning herself in work to try and distract herself from the immense grief she feels constantly. (Her crash out is inevitable)

She grew her hair out bc it reminds her of Blue.

Some extra drawings / sketches I did !!

The last one is of Chosen & Second, I'll make a post about them when I make the refs for Second :33c

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Healing Takes Time Chapter 3

[First] [Prev]

Chosen takes care of himself as promised for the next week. He got out of bed every day no matter how much he wanted to stare at the wall and wallow. He takes showers, wears fresh clothes, and even washes Darks hoodie. While the first few days of eating were hard, mostly snacks he and Dark had lying around, by day four he was starting to make easy meals. It wasn’t much, especially compared to his glory days but it was something. 

The house isn’t nearly as filthy, either. The smell of smoke and fire has been scrubbed away and replaced with a faux sense of cleanliness. All the dishes have been cleaned and put away instead of rotting in the sink. The counters have been wiped clear of the dust and grime that had been taking over, and the floors now sparkle with cleanliness.   

The only thing that wasn’t completed on his to-do list was to get rid of that virus cannon Dark had built. It was certainly a priority but every time he even got near the damn thing the remnants of grief and guilt took hold of him, the memory of what happened there too great. Phantom pain from the punch that started it all would tingle in his knuckles, and nausea so powerful it brought him to his knees.  So instead he blocked it off. Out of sight out of mind. It isn’t perfect but it works for now.

He kinda hopes the kid is proud of him. There's no one else in his life that could be proud of him. And while the steps have been small they have been steps. He should be arriving any minute now. Chosen had been counting down the days, hours, minutes until the kid returned. Until he isn’t alone again. 

Chosen waits on the roof of his home looking up at the screen sky. He’s been up here for hours, basically since he woke up, looking out for the kid to wander up to the house. He must get tired after all that walking. Maybe they could watch a movie, wander through the woods, or maybe fly around? It won't be easy since the kid doesn’t know about his powers but Chosen is sure he can carry him. Super strength and all that.  

“Choooosen!” The kid’s voice calls out from the distance. Chosen scans the ground for the kid’s bright orange hair in the green grass and smiles at the kid waving from the ground. Chosen leaps off the roof to the field below, the fire shooting out of his hands cushioning his fall. The kid wraps his arms around Chosen and before he knows it he’s returning the gesture. 

The kid is warm and smells like citrus. His fingers run through the kid’s soft hair, cradling his head. It had only been a week but he really did miss the kid and being alone in the house was starting to drive him a little crazy. He swore at times he could hear Dark’s voice just down the hall or the familiar buzz of his computers but nothing was ever there. 

“Hey Chosen! I missed you too!” The kid says releasing his grip on Chosen. His hand twitches towards the kid’s already missing his warmth but never being able to admit it out loud. But thankfully the kid seems to be a natural mind reader and grasps his hand in his own. 

“We are going on an adventure.” He says with a smile. 

“Oh yeah?” Chosen replies “What are we doing?”

“You are going to show me around the city!”

“The city? Oh no no no. We are not going there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a criminal?”

“So?! Throw on a hoodie, or a hat! Come on big bro!” His eyes are so big and his smile wide. He can’t say no to that little face. Although he really needs to learn how to, can’t let the power go to the kid’s head. But just once wouldn’t hurt. He does need to go into the city anyway. 

“Fine. Just this once.” Chosen says with a sigh. “Only because I need to get some groceries.”

“Yes! You’re the best Cho!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Lemme grab a few things then we can get going.” Chosen goes back inside leaving the door open for the kid to follow. He goes over to the closet grabbing a jacket with a large hood and beanie and throws them both on. He tucks his long black hair into the gray beanie leaving only the front strands sticking out. It's not an amazing disguise but as long as he keeps his head down, he should be fine. 

“Alrighty kid, you ready?” Chosen says tucking his phone and keys into his jacket pocket.

“Yeah! My friend Purple told me all about the city, he used to live there!”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, apparently he had an apartment or something and knows all the fun places.”

“So why aren’t you exploring it with him? Sounds like you got an expert tour guide.”

“Because I wanted to see it with you first!”

Chosen can’t help but roll his eyes at the kid’s sapiness. It was pure and truthful, innocent in the way a kid who has never been truly scorned could be. Chosen wishes he could’ve had that, even for a minute, but it was never in the cards for him.

“Come on kid. Let's go.”

The city is exactly as Chosen remembers it.

Awful. 

Too many sticks and noises. People crammed together with barely any space to themselves. Shops with their bright lights and towers that take over the horizon. Cars that made awful noises and people talking far too loud. It was disgusting.  

But the kid seems to like it, his eyes are wide taking in every last thing that the city has to offer. His head bounces from building to building, stick to stick, taking in every last thing it has to offer. 

“Is it everything you ever dreamed of?” Chosen says nudging the kid.

“It’s so big! I’ve only ever been to small villages and bastions. Even then there were only like 100 piglins there? Maybe 200?” 

“Well, there are probably a few thousand sticks here. Maybe even a few hundred thousand.”

“Hundred thousand?!”

“Yeah, lotta potential friends for you,” Chosen says ruffling the kids' hair with a small laugh. The kid giggles in return, shooing Chosen’s hand off of his head. It was mostly a joke but to be honest, the kid seems so friendly and light-hearted, if Dark wasn’t so set on destruction, if he wasn’t ready to end everything, Chosen is sure that he and the kid could’ve been friends.

“So what are we doing first?”

“Well, do you want food? There are few good food carts around here if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, I kinda skipped breakfast so I could get here on time.”

“Alright then. Food it is.” 

“Yeah!” The kid takes off a bit too fast for Chosen’s taste. He still doesn’t know anything about this world, and the thought of the kid getting hurt on his watch. Chosen takes off after the kid, pulling the edges of his beanie down to shield his face.

“Come on Cho!” He shouts from the edge of the sidewalk. His arms waving in the air to get his attention. Cars wiz past him going almost as fast as Chosen’s heart. Chosen pulls his little brother back onto the sidewalk and to safety. 

“Okay, new rule. Stay behind me or right in front of me. Within grabbing distance.”

“Oh, what? Do you not trust me?”

“Nope, not in the slightest,” Chosen says with a laugh. “Next time don’t stand next to the street.”

“Noted.”

The signal across the road turns from red to green allowing the two to cross the street without getting hit by a car. Cursors above, this kid has a steep learning curve ahead of him. It took years for Chosen to even grasp the basics and to be honest he doesn’t have the strongest understanding of it but he’s doing his best. He thinks. 

They round the corner to the street full of food carts and long lines. Chosen digs into his pocket grabbing his wallet and some cash. 

“Okay, see the dark red man with the cart?” He says pointing to the man pushing his corndogs. 

”Yeah?”

“Here’s $6. Go grab us two corn dogs.”

“What?! Didn’t you just say to stay in front of or beside you?! Why can’t you get them?” 

“Because I spent my first six years here being a criminal, and now I’m in hiding. And you’ll still be in eyesight. Now go.” Chosen says nudging the kid closer to the cart. The kid rolls his eyes but compiles. 

Chosen leans against the nearby wall of one of the skyscrapers of the city. He keeps his head down but his eyes still scan the city and its inhabitants. A few sticks with blue hats and badges pass by but don’t seem to spare Chosen another glance, too busy with whatever their task is. They hang around a telephone pole before moving on.

A poster with the words written in big bold text hangs from the post, and Chosen’s face is right below it. Oh boy. That isn’t good. Chosen tugs the beanie around his ears as he walks over the telephone pole.

WANTED. REPORT ALL SIGHTINGS TO ROCKET CORP. REWARD.

Chosen rips the poster off the staple and shoves it into his hoodie pocket. Rocket corp. Has always been a small thorn in his side but to put his face up on posters? This is starting to become a problem. His fingertips flip back and forth on the edges of the folded poster, his potential doom in his pocket. He’ll have to find and burn all the posters later. Just in case.

“Hey! Chosen!” The kid says from the other side of the street “Mission accomplished! I got us some food!” He waves the corn dogs up in the air with a bright smile on his face. Chosen can’t help but let the infectious smile spread to his face as he crosses the street, forgetting all about the poster in his pocket. He takes both the corn dogs and holds them high above his head where the kid can’t reach them. A playful gesture made all the better by the fact the kid was at least six inches shorter than him.

“Oh, what?! Chosen! Come on!” The kid says jumping up to grab his treat. “Give it back!”

“Gotta say the magic word!” 

“May I please have my corn dog?” He says crossing his arms with a little pouty face to complete it. Chosen lowers one of the corn dogs from the air and takes a big bite out of it, a smirk on his face as he chews.

“What?! Chosen! I said ‘Please!’”

“Who said that was the magic word?”

“Come on, Chosen! Give it!” The kid resumes his little jumps, his arms waving around in an attempt to get the delicious snack out of Chosen’s hands.

“You didn’t say the magic word!” Chosen can’t help but laugh, really truly laugh at the kid’s attempts. When was the last time he did that? Truly laugh from the core of his being? It’s been so long that his stomach hurts from just a few seconds of the joyous feeling.

“Would you stop laughing and just give it?”

“Okay, okay. Here.” Chosen hands over the delicious hostage and ruffle the kid's hair, his hand shuffling the orange and green mess. 

“Thank you.” 

“You are very welcome. Now, come on, let's get out of here. I think there's a farmers market up ahead.” 

The two of them walk around the marketplace, each booth catching his attention. Little crafts or hand-made art or trinkets cause his eyes to glisten with this wonder Chosen had never seen before. He knows that this is all new to him, but the ability to stop and appreciate every little thing. Especially the art. He stops and drags Chosen back to the booth to admire every piece the creator made. It takes a while and the booth owners are a bit too chatty for Chosen’s taste but the kid always steps up to talk to them. And even though they never buy anything it does seem to make the vendor's day a bit brighter just by talking about their craft. 

“So what else do you want to see?” Chosen asks as they walk out of the market

“What else is there to see?”  The kid shrugs

“Well there's the grocery store, the laundromat-”

“Not thaat! Fun stuff!” 

“I don’t do ‘fun stuff’ kid, I do boring ‘adult stuff’”

“Oh, what? You’re like what eighteen-nineteen? You should be doing fun stuff!”

“I’m twenty. And the boring adult stuff takes precedence, kid.”

“Boring! You’re boring!” The kid says sticking his tongue out for emphasis. Chosen rolls his eyes and gives the kid a playful shove on the shoulder.

“Okay, smart guy, what do you do for fun?” 

“Oh well, Alan has a lot of games on his computer so my friends and I usually go explore those, but Minecraft is our favorite.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah! That’s actually where I met my friends! Oh! Oh! You should meet them! They don’t live too far from here! That’s what we should do next!” The kid grabs Chosen’s arm and takes off not caring about anything just getting to their next destination. Chosen allows himself to be dragged along by the kid half his size and strength to an unknown destination. 

Chosen is led through streets and buildings until they get to the more suburban side of the city. No more skyscrapers assaulting the sky, or people crowding the streets, or posters on every post and in every window advertising the next big thing. Instead, children are playing in the street and coloring with chalk on the sidewalk, and parents are on the porch talking amongst each other. Run-down houses made of concrete instead of glass or steel. No yards or space for freedom, just houses crammed next to each other.

The kid runs up to the house at the very end of the block, knocking on the door while bouncing on his heels. His excitement radiating off of him and bombarding Chosen, not that he minded of course. No matter how many times he sees that smile, he’s sure he’ll never get tired of it.

A taller solid orange stick pulls the door open with a soft smile and tired eyes. He looks somehow both exhausted and wide awake at the same time. The faint smell of black tea wafts out the door inviting them both in. 

“Hey, Orange! Headed back already?” The man says leaning against the door.

“Not yet! I brought Chosen by to meet you and Purple. Is that okay?”

Chosen stands up a bit straighter as the man looks at him, his smile never dropping as he steps aside.

“Come on in. Do you like tea, Chosen?”

“Oh uh, I’m more of a coffee person, but I’ll never turn down a cup,” Chosen says crossing the threshold. His eyes bounce around the small home trying to take it all in. And look for anything suspicious. Not that he doesn’t trust the kid’s friends, it’s just second nature at this point.

Walls that look freshly painted over and some half-decent furniture by a nice kitchen. Store-bought paintings hung from the walls next to photographs of the orange stick figure and a gold child. Drawings that had no right being in such beautiful frames crowded walls like they belonged there, and not on a fridge or stuffed in a drawer somewhere.      

A purple stick who looks about the kid’s age pokes his head around the corner, his eyes wide for a moment, looking between him and the kid, and the older stick like he needs some reassurance. Which, is fair. If a famed terrorist just showed up in Chosen’s house he’d be a bit spooked too.

“Purple, this is my big brother, Chosen. He doesn’t bite. Swear.”

“You said the same thing about Red,” Purple says with a small laugh, stepping out from his little hiding spot. The kid reaches out for Purple, pulling them close before turning back to Chosen.

“Well, Chosen definitely doesn’t. Right, Cho?”

“Uh yeah, no don’t worry kid. My days of ruthlessness and terror are far behind me.”

“Same here.” Purple chuckles. 

Uh, what? Chosen looks to the kid for further elaboration, absolutely lost how this fifteen-year-old could have ‘days of terror’. He looks like a completely normal kid, someone Chosen wouldn’t even give a second glance to on the street.  

“Oh, um, Purple almost killed Blue and Green when they were ruler of a village and then helped Mango when he went a bit off the rails and tried to destroy Minecraft and us along with it. But we’re all good now.” The kid says all this like he isn’t absolutely crazy. 

“I-What?” A normal dad and a teenager, killers, destroyers? Those are words to describe him, not a pair of normal sticks living in the city. 

“Purple, didn’t you say you had something to show Orange?” Mango says from the kitchen, “Why don’t you and Orange go to your room and let the grown-ups chat?”

“Oh uh, okay. Come on Orange.”

The kid looks back up at Chosen, worry filling his eyes. Like if he left Chosen would fly off absolutely terrified of the situation.

“Go have fun. Just don’t head home without a proper goodbye, okay?”

“I won’t! Promise! Come on Purple!” The kid drags his friend back to their room leaving Chosen alone with Mango.

Chosen takes a seat at the kitchen table watching Mango grab two mugs from the cupboard. The kettle screeches alerting everyone in the house that the water is ready for tea. Chosen looks back up to the man, really trying to picture him hurting anyone but can’t seem to grasp the image. The man pouring tea, destroying what seems to be an entire dimension and five kids? No way.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little lost. You’re a suburban dad and they’re a teenager. Why did you-” 

“Same reason a famed terrorist is clinging onto a teenage kid,” Mango says cutting him off before placing a cup of hot tea in front of him. “Grief.”

The word was heavy in the air, the truth surrounding it too great to speak upon. 

“My son, Gold- there was an accident. And I got angry. And destructive. I imagine you, of all people, can understand that.” 

“I do,” Chosen says tracing the edge of the mug with his finger. “Well, what about Purple?”

“Purple, they didn’t have the best childhood and they were trying to please all the wrong people. They did some bad things, really bad things, but they’ve learned. Orange and his friends helped them a lot.” 

Chosen looks out to the hallway where the kid and Purple’s voices come from. Yeah, he can understand both of those things. Being so filled with anger and using it for destruction, and pleasing all the wrong people because of a shit childhood? That’s his story alright.  

“I saw your wanted posters around town.” Wait what?! Chosen’s head darts up as his hands fly to the piece of paper in his pocket grabbing the thing tight. He almost forgot about those. Chosen does his best to keep a straight face “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I think Orange would kill me if I did.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Chosen says tapping the side of the mug with his fingertips. 

The bright green light and the shaking of the ground are still fresh in his mind. Dark’s body was so mangled it didn’t even resemble the powerful stick he was fighting just a few minutes ago. All because of an angry, grieving child.

Chosen looks back to the older stick figure. His entire presence is soft, kind, and inviting. Something completely different than what Chosen was used to. He was used to the energetic, rash, and loud of Dark and to an extent the kid. But it was nice. Something he feels like he’s been missing for a long time. 

“Can I tell you something?” He says after a long sip of the tea.

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” 

“I haven’t-Not even the kid knows. And I can’t tell him! How could I? It would-And I need to tell someone. I can’t keep this a secret for any longer.”

“Chosen, hey, it’s all good,” Mango says, reaching over the table to touch his hand. “You can tell me.”

It’s rough and calloused, but gentle in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. It’s comforting. At least that’s what he thinks the other man is trying to do. Chosen nods and takes a few deep breaths. He can do this. 

“Do you remember the big mountain leveling fight that happened a few weeks ago?”

“How could I forget? Purple was terrified. Thought the world was ending.”

“That was the kid. The kid did that.”

“What?”

“Well it was mostly me and Dark in the beginning but the kid? He leveled that mountain. He destroyed all of Dark's bots like it was nothing! It took all of my power to destroy one of them! And he destroyed Dark! He leveled that mountain! And he doesn’t remember it! He has no clue!”

“Orange did that? He was that green light?” 

“Mhm. And he doesn’t remember it.”

Chosen watches as the older man leans back in his chair, letting out a sigh of what he thinks to be disbelief. He shakes his head before grabbing his mug and taking a long sip of tea.

“And to think I thought he was giving it his all when we fought,” Mango says finishing the drink. Chosen isn’t really sure what that means but he gives the other man time to process all of this. In all honesty, Chosen isn’t even sure he’s processed all of this. “Are you sure Orange doesn’t know?”

“Positive. He told me he basically blacked out for that entire time. He thinks I saved him and his friends.”

Chosen takes another sip of the warm tea as Mango slides his hands down his face. A perfect encapsulation of how Chosen has felt for the past few weeks. 

“Creators above.” Mango finally says 

“Exactly what I’ve been saying.” Chosen replies.

“That’s a lot to carry on your shoulders. Are you-are you doing okay?” 

Out of all the questions, that's the one Chosen least suspected would come up. How is he doing? How is the infamous Chosen One doing? 

“Fine, I guess. A lot better now that the kid is coming to check in with me. I guess I'm a bit lonely. It’s weird being alone. I always think Dark is the other room working on something.” 

“Well, if you ever need it, our house is always available to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re important to Orange so you’re important to me.” 

Chosen can’t help but smile at the genuine kindness being extended to him. No strings attached. Being kind just for the sake of it. Because he could. 

“Thanks.”

“Anytime kid.”

-------

[A03 link]

Oh look at that Chosen and Orange bonding! And Chosen has a friend?! You know what we call that? Growth. Also I need more fics or art of a Mango/Chosen dynamic. Just Mango kinda being someone for Chosen to lean on. PLEASE!!! I don't think chapter 4 will be ready by next Friday, but it defienlty will be ready at the very lastest the Friday after that! Thanks so much for reading!!

[parkswritessometimes]

Healing Takes Time Chapter 2

Fandom: AVA/M

Music

Chosen slumps to the floor, all his energy gone, along with the kid. He knows he just promised to take care of himself but that seemed so much easier with the kid there. Now alone and faced with what he had to do, he’d rather jump off a cliff than keep that dumb promise. 

The dark shadow of grief that clings to his ankles,  threatening to pull him down like the ball and chain from so long ago, returns to its rightful place. Everything seems so heavy again. So much. Even climbing back into bed seems like it would be scaling a mountain. 

But that kid looked at him with so much hope, so much kindness. “I won’t let you sulk in that bed forever.” Shit. He has to do this. He can’t let him go. He can’t fail him too. 

Chosen pushes himself off the floor, fighting against the heavy weight of sadness keeping him down. He can do this. He is The Chosen One. He escaped imprisonment. Has flown the skies freer than a bird. He can harness the power of fire and ice with a flick of his wrist. He can take a stupid shower. 

He trudges up the stairs, each step a little easier than the last. He can do this. He can do this. For the kid. 

Chosen turns into the bathroom and takes a good look at himself in the mirror. Cursors and creators above he’s a mess. His eyes are exhausted, with dark circles underneath them only extenuating his tiredness. His dark hair is oily and matted beyond belief.

He used to take great pride in his hair, the one and only thing that he knew was his own. Not given to him like his life, his powers, or even his freedom. But something he made, or well his body made. But it was his. And no one could tell him what to do with it. And he let it get like this. Chosen picks up a brush and begins to work through the knots at the bottom of his hair and works his way up. With each stroke of the brush, his hair becomes a little less tangled. And his life is a little more manageable. 

But the rest of his body was disgusting, not fully cleaned from the fight with dirt and dried blood all over his body. Not to mention the sweat, oils, and other things that made him feel disgusting. He looks to the shower, the heaviness returning at just the mere thought of cleaning his body. But he knew he had to do it. No matter how much he didn’t want to. The longer he put it off the worse he’d feel. And he already feels like shit.

Chosen reaches into the shower and turns the nozzle letting the warm water spray across his hand. He throws his clothes on the floor not bothering with a hamper and steps in. The warm water trickling down his body does make him feel better. And having the weight of the blood and grime lifted off of him with each harsh scrub of the small towel makes him feel lighter. Even if the water swirling down the drain was brown and red. He scrubs the shampoo into his hair, his nails digging into his scalp almost painfully so, ridding the last of the fight adieu as it washes down the drain. It’s bittersweet. Leaving a pang in his heart. 

He needed to do this, but he wishes he had at least a scar, something, anything, to remind him of his friend, but there isn’t even a mark on his body. Nothing to even indicate that there was even a fight. Nothing to show that he almost died. How is that fair?! The kid is littered with scars reminding him of something that he shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place, but he gets off scott free?! That isn’t fair! 

Chosen twists the nozzle so hard it nearly snaps off. Water and frustrated tears run down his face and down the drain. He yanks a towel off the rack and begins to dry himself off. 

Okay. Okay. Calm down. Just calm down. He thinks to himself as he scrubs the water droplets off of him. Just, calm down. You’re okay. You’re okay Chosen. 

Chosen takes a deep breath before wrapping the towel around his body. He wipes the steam off the bathroom mirror to reveal his reflection. The tired eyes and bags remain, but at least he doesn’t look like a complete psychopath. He could probably go into town with a hood over his head and not get a single glance. But not today. Baby steps.

Speaking of which, fresh clothes. He can do that. Chosen thumbs over some of the shirts in his closet before pulling out a plain white shirt and black sweatpants. Something easy and comfortable. He glances at the red sweatshirt on the floor that belonged to Dark and throws it on. The familiar scent of motor oil, sweat and tobacco filling his head. Oh tobacco! 

Chosen glances over to the pack of cigarettes on his dresser, grabbing it and his lighter and shoving it in his pockets. This is definitely not what the kid meant when he said “take care of yourself”, but the kid isn’t here and he already did so much. Chosen walks down the stairs and out the door into the green cliffside the house sat on. Chosen sits down on the edge of the cliff letting his feet dangle off the ledge. He grabs a cigarette and brings it to his mouth and lights it, and that first inhale is pure bliss.   

A small breeze flows through the air carrying the smoke away to the lake. Chosen looks up to the screen grid, something that wasn’t exactly comforting but it was something familiar. 

He remembers how disappointed he was when he and Dark first arrived. He wished for stars and a sun. But all he got was the light of screens and the darkness that came when the computers they were attached to went to sleep. Dark had joked that it was all human junk, that there was no need for it and not to get so sad. After all, they were free! Away from that awful cursor and the ball and chain that kept Chosen confined for four years. But it was so much more than mere disappointment for Chosen. 

In that empty blackness, the empty nothingness, sometimes he swore he could see specks of white in the distance. Inviting him to freedom. Promising that if he held out just a while longer he’d be able to see them for real. He got his freedom but never his stars.

Chosen takes in another deep inhale of smoke pushing the memory out from his head. Something good. Just think of something good. Something that won’t hurt him. Dark’s smile and laugh. The adrenaline of a good sparring session or flying around in the woods with Dark right on his tail. All things he’ll never experience again. No. No. Happy memories. Don’t let the grief hold you back. Chosen thinks Don’t let the sorrow drown you.

Chosen scans for anything that can bring a smile to his face but comes up empty. All there was the cursor who kept him enslaved, Dark, and the kid. Every happy memory is now one of mourning and grief. Chosen takes another long drag of his cigarette, the reliable tobacco giving him happiness that memories can’t.  

“Did  you make him like that?” He says to the hole in the sky grid “Did you make him evil? Can I blame you for this? Please? Can it just be your fault? Not his?” 

The sky doesn’t reply. It doesn’t have the answers. It just glows with the screens turning on and off as their owners go about their lives. They’ll all be turning off soon, except for a few night owls who don’t turn off their computer until 4 am. And Alan’s computer, which was always on. Which now that Chosen thinks about it, makes sense. 

The computer in sleep mode or worse shutdown was hell. No direction, no color, just floating in the abyss, until the computer turns back on. He wouldn’t do that to them. He was kind and took care of them. He let them live on their PC and draw and play games and saved their lives.

“Why couldn’t you have done that for me? For us?” 

I don’t know. The gaping hole in the sky says. But asking that won’t help you.

----

I promise you'll get more sibling bonding next chapter

[A03 link]

[parkswritessometimes]

Healing Takes Time Chapter 1

Fandom: AVA/M

How long has he been staring at this stupid concrete wall? A day? A week? A year? Whatever it was felt like an eternity. Chosen can’t move. Can’t breathe. Not since the mountain came crashing down. Since Dark died. He’s just been laying on this bed staring at the wall holding a sweatshirt hoping, praying, needing Dark to come back through that door. His loud mouth and witty quips, a comeback for anything Chosen could say. But he’ll never be able to hear that voice again. Never be able to hug or touch or be with him again. 

How can he move on? How can he be without his other half? Dark was the reason he had freedom, that he could live outside of a confining PC. No longer a slave but a person, something with life and a soul. He’s never had a night under the stars without Dark at his side and now he’ll have to see them every night without him. 

Cursors above, he’s tired. Even though he’s been in this bed, for who knows how long, the fatigue is deep in his bones. He wants to die in this bed. He feels dead. So exhausted he can barley move or think. Only take in deep breaths of Dark’s favorite red sweatshirt.

A small, familiar creek of the front door, sends a small flicker of hope through his chest. He waits for Dark to call out, tell him he was home from whatever adventure had called to him. Tell him that this was all in his head, that this was a nightmare and that he would never lose him. That the virabots were nothing but a bad dream and he would never do anything so stupid.

“Chosen? Are you here? The door was unlocked so I let myself in.” No. Definitely not Dark. Too childish and high pitched. But the voice is familiar.  “It’s Orange. Ya know? From Alan’s PC? I wanted to come check in on you. See how you were doing? I brought food! Hello?”

Oh that’s why. It’s the kid. Chosen pulls the covers over his head like a child hiding from their parents. Maybe if he ignored the kid, he’d go away. But the steps get louder and louder as he steps up the stairs, growing ever closer. The door creaks open the kid’s voice clear as day, the only thing protecting Chosen was the blankets over his head.

“Hey, is this you?” The kid asks, poking the duvet. “It is!!”

The sheets ripped off his body in an instant exposing him to the sunlight and coldness that was the outside world. He curls in farther into himself and the hoodie in his arms hoping that the kid is getting the hint. 

“Are you alive?” He wishes he wasn’t. He wishes he was right there with Dark when the mountain fell.  Orange pokes and prods his stomach causing him to squirm, his lips curling into a smile against his will. “You are! Come on! Get out of there!” Chosen groans as he pushes himself out of bed, knowing that the kid will never leave him alone if he doesn’t comply. He sits up and stretches his aching body before looking at the kid. An annoyingly cheerful smile on his face and his hair pulled back into a high ponytail with green highlights toward the end. His eyes are bright with happiness and optimism that Chosen never even got the chance to experience. 

“You're up! Come on, I brought food!” He pulls on Chosen’s hands bringing him to his feet. It was nice. Warm. He can feel the kid's heart beat in between his fingers. Warm, steady and consistent. He’s alive. They’re both alive. He grips onto the kid’s hand as if it would disappear the moment he let it go. Call him selfish, you wouldn’t be the first, but he needs this. More than he realized.

“Woah, hey,” The kid says “Quite a grip there. I’m not going anywhere. You hungry? I brought sandwiches and watermelon lemonade, and some sweet berries!” He was hungry. He hasn’t eaten for a few days. Or showered. Or smoked. Or done anything. Just stared at the wall. And cried into that damn sweatshirt. 

The kid leads him down the stairs showing him a big picnic basket set down on his kitchen counters. He begins to unpack everything with his free hand, setting the pixilated food down on plates. Pixelated and flat. Definitely not from this world. He looks back at the smiling kid as he continues to unpack what he brought and starts to snicker. 

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing it’s just, how did you even get this here?”

“I brought it from home!”

Of course he did. Kid grew up in isolation on Alan’s PC. He can't have any clue about laws or rules. But hey, everyone’s gotta learn sometime. Better to have him sneaking in food than terrorizing websites and killing innocent sticks. 

“That’s illegal. Game smuggling. You could get time.” The kid’s face goes ghost white, stumbling over words in shock. Chosen can’t help but chuckle, grabbing a sandwich and some berries. “Guess being a troublemaker runs in the family.” 

The tension in the kid's shoulders relaxes as a small laugh escapes his mouth. “Ye-Yeah. Guess it does.”

Chosen lets a small smile grace his lips as he bites into the sandwich the kid brought. It’s good for a sandwich and the berries are fresh so he can’t complain. And hey, free food. The kids' bright orange eyes keep bouncing around the room and examining Chosen’s body. His eyes finally lock on to Chosen’s and a look of sadness comes over him. 

“Have you just been in that bed since…”

“Cursors, kid, manners. You break into my house and now you’re asking questions?” Dark used to say he used sarcasm as a shield, a way to deflect and protect himself. And he had a point, but feelings weren’t exactly his forté. Wasn’t Dark’s either but that’s what made them such good friends. They’d just sit in silence and enjoy each other's company. This kid was clearly a talkative one. Full of energy and light. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” The kid says, holding his hands up and waving them back and forth.“It’s just I wouldn’t blame you if you were. If one of my best friends did something like that then I had to fight them, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” 

“Don’t worry kid, your friends seem like good people. I don’t think you’ll have to deal with that.” “Yeah, my friends are the best.”

“Considering how they jumped in to save you with no hesitation, yeah, I’d say so. ”All those kids seemed so selfless and kind. Just jumping in front of the kid and himself. Regardless of their own safety, their own skill, they just threw themselves into the battle to protect a friend and a stranger. Dark would have never done anything like that. He never gave, only took. 

Chosen takes a good look at the kid for the first time since they met. All the injuries from the fight have scared over, leaving fine white lines all over his body. His shirt looks burned at the edges as if he was recently playing with fire, and his hair and shoulders carry a fine red dust. Weird. If he took the tunnel that he created all of that should’ve been taken off by the strong winds. 

“How did you even get here?” Chosen asks needing an answer to the stupid question. 

“Now who’s asking the questions?” Chosen smiles and the kid’s sassiness, not all sugar, kid’s got a little bit of spice in him.  They didn’t get much time to talk in between all the fighting, and death. There might have been a total of twenty words exchanged between them and most of them were “Thank you for saving me!”. This was the first time they actually had a conversation, and while the kid was very bubbly and full of energy, it was nice. “My friends have a portal that connects to the Nether. It wasn’t a hard walk.”

“Nether? What's The Nether?” 

“Oh, uh, do you know what Minecraft is?”

“No, well kinda. It’s a video game right?” Chosen remembers the big booth with a huge cube dressed up like a chunk of grass, at the fair he and Dark snuck into a few years back. It wasn’t either one of their things but it was cool to just see. Definitely left an impression, but nothing more than that.  

“Yeah! My friend has a portal connecting this world to the game and the game  connects to another portal on Alan’s desktop so I just came through that.” “So what's the Nether?”

“Oh it’s a dimension in Minecraft. It’s full of lava and fire, but it’s easy to get through once you know what you’re doing.”

“Kid, you shouldn’t go through a fire dimension for me. If you’re gonna come, go through the portal I made.” 

“But I don’t want to fall in the lake!”

“You won’t fall into the lake.”

“Yes I will, I can’t fly like you!”

Chosen freezes and looks at the kid as if he was insane. His eyes try to find any sense of humor or sarcasm in the kids expression but found none. 

“Kid, question for you.” He asks ready to test the waters.

“Go ahead.”

“What do you remember about the fight?”

“Um, I remember standing in front of you and then my friends helping me and, the red guy-“

“Dark.” 

“Dark, stabbing them then me, and then the world went black. Then I woke up with Alan and my friends above me. I think I died.”

Actually the opposite Chosen thinks to himself. He was a powerhouse. Wielding more strength and cosmic energy than Chosen could even dream of. Green sparks of lighting that exploded into the sky. Lime green energy that healed him. Speed that could break the sound barrier with ease. But it’s probably for the best that he can't remember all that.

He remembers his creation day. So full of power and fear. Destroying everything and anything in his way as he just tried to run from the overwhelming dread that overtook his body, until the cursor in the sky imprisoned him. Used him as his own personal Adblock. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially the kid. 

“I’m really sorry that you had to hurt Dark.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to stop him. But thanks kid.”

“Ya know,” The kid says, putting down his sandwich “You can call me Orange. It is my name.” What? No. A hollow head without a kickass name? That’s not Alan at all. No, there has to be more. No way Alan came up with a basic name like Orange. He had to have something, anything, better than the name of a normal stick figure. Especially considering his powers, there is no way his file name is just ‘Orange_StickFigure’ Or something like that. Not with Alan.

“Well, I’m not calling you that.” Chosen says grabbing the watermelon lemonade “What did Alan name you?”

“He didn’t name me anything. I’m just Orange.”

“Well, for now, you’re ‘kid.’”

“Great.” The kid says, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Hey, you should be honored. Not even Dark got a nickname like that.”

“Oh really?”

“Nope, he was always Dark. Back then, now, and forever, Dark.”

It’s true. No matter what, he will be Dark. Not The Dark Lord, or The Internet Terrorist. Dark. His friend. His Brother. His matching half. His freedom. His best friend. 

“I’m really sorry you had to kill him. But, now you have me! And I’m not going to let you wallow away in that bed forever. Okay?” Chosen smiles at the kids' optimism. How can he not? That hollowness he had just felt, while still there no longer felt like it would swallow him whole. It was manageable, something he could fight now.  

“Hey as long as you bring me food, we have a deal. Just knock next time?”

“Deal.”

The Kid is no Dark, not even close. He’s far too bright and bubbly, an optimism that would’ve made Dark sick and smile that never seemed to fade. Dark had a glint of mischief in his eye and a permanent smirk on his face. They were so, so, different but so similar in so many ways. Energetic and sassy, full of curiosity and vigor, ready to pull Chosen to the next thing. Willing to do anything just to make Chosen smile.

A sudden squeeze around his chest takes any breath he has away. He looks down to see the kid wrapping his arms around his torso, his head firmly in his chest with the top of his head under Chosen’s chin.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you next week. Okay?” Chosen isn’t sure what to do in this situation. Dark wasn’t much of a hugger, and Chosen wasn’t much for physical contact. And while Dark loved to be in his space, he wasn’t one for physical affection. He just knew it bothered Chosen so he’d do everything in his power to be as physically close as he could just to bug him. But this was different. Very, very different. In a good way? Maybe? He honestly isn’t sure.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m away?” The kid looks back up with a bright smile and sparkling eyes, and Chosen’s heart can’t help but swell. How can he say no to that face? That would be like kicking a puppy. Chosen ruffles the kids hair as he releases the death grip he held on Chosen.

“I’ll try, kid. I promise.”

------

[A03 link]

-----

I hope y'all like it. This is my first piece for the AVA fandom so I'm a bit nervous

I have most of the story planned out so I hope to update it at least once a month.

Oh and credit to @/starrypawu for the headcannon of Orange with lime green highlights in his hair headccannon which you can find here

[parkswritessometimes]

Day 1 Egotober 2024 Puppet

(This is kinda a ship fic so just a heads up)

He used to love these. He would make them sing and dance, put on little shows for the kids. He was the best at carving them from a slab of wood and turning them into art. Taking scraps of fabric and turning it into life.  But now he’s gone and all that remains is the little doll sitting in Shawn’s hands. The smile so full of life and promise brought nothing but anger to Shawn’s soul.

This was all that was left. This was his legacy. A few dolls and cherished memories. No body. No record. Nothing. As if he never existed. But he did. These stupid dolls were proof of that. His memories, his grief were proof of that. No human being could break over something imaginary. Not like this. “I’m sorry. But we have no record of a Jameson Jackson.” Those two damned sentences were said over and over again. At hospitals, at courthouses, even fucking IRIS. The god damn bastards who fucking took him. “There is no record of Jameson Jackson.”

 The little puppet smiles back up at him like everything will be fine. Like everything will be normal. Like the world will still spin and the sun will still rise tomorrow. But it won’t. Shawn’s world had been destroyed. There is no sun. There is no light without Jameson. 

The universe has to be fucking with him. There has to be a body. Something to bury. Something to remember him by. There is no way someone just disappears like that. There has to be something! But nothing. There was no one that could help him. According to the universe Jameson wasn’t even a ghost. 

-----

Egotober by: @tracobuttons

This is the one time a year I rise for like 10 days and then retreat back into the woods.

[parkswritessometimes]

For your consideration:

The Egotober 2024 list!

Rules for Egotober 2024

1. This is open to every fandom that has a creator with alter-egos or characters that they play that’s different to them in their everyday life.

2. The event runs between the 1st to the 31st of October. Use #Egotober2024 so that others can find all the awesome work during the month.

3. There is NO OBLIGATION to do every single prompt as the month goes on. Dip in and out as often as you like

4. This is not just an art event. Every medium can be used. This includes, and is not limited to: edits, mood boards, gifs and fan-fics

5. Have fun and share work you like!

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of Iris CHPTR 8

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

Everything started to calm down when Marvin managed to find a spell or something and put Jameson to sleep. Chase could see it in his eyes, that mixture of terror and pride and love as he melted against the wooden door.

“He’s okay.” Marvin said. “He’s alive. Jackie’s gonna look over him for a few hours. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

And the house has been quiet ever since. Now it’s 2:30 am and Chase is staring at the ceiling as a movie plays in the background. He didn’t even get a good look at Jameson, he was a bundle of torn ratty blankets in Jackie’s arms close to his chest. Marvin was in and out of the room and all Chase could see was glimpses of a bruised sleeping man. Just fragile and small in the bed that used to be Chase’s.

Jackie and Jameson must be asleep by now. And it couldn’t hurt to just put some cookies on his table or something. He didn’t go on a baking and cooking frenzy for nothing. He pushes himself up and walks over to the cookies and begins to plate them. Three, no, five, ten, cookies should be enough for him. Maybe they could eat them together, share stories and talk, or well sign. If he was feeling up to it of course.

He turns the door praying the creaking doesn’t wake either one of them, he sets down the plate next to Jameson, his face still shadowed by the darkness. He turns back to Jackie, all curled up on the little couch against the wall.

“Hey,” Chase starts as he runs his hands through Jackie’s hair. Nice and smooth but also full of grease. Man probably hasn’t washed his hair in a week. Makes sense though, even on a good week he washes his hair maybe once or twice. Jackie leans into Chase’s hand giving Chase permission to talk. “Why don’t you go to your room to get some sleep in a bed-a real bed, not the couch.”

“I’m good here, thanks.” Jackie mumbles, readjusting his contorted body to a better position. His eyes are still closed and his mind is barely awake.

“Jackie, come on. You should sleep in your own bed.”

“‘m good. Go back to sleep. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“Jackie…Come on man. At least go get a shower. You smell.”

“It’s like 3:00 am, Chase.”

“Which means Jameson won’t wake up. Go shower and go sleep in your bed for a few hours.”

Jackie turns over and looks up at Chase. He can’t see the hero’s eyes but he can feel the exhaustion. The pain and pride and frustration. The small squeeze of a hand in the darkness made his mind flashback to putting Chole back to bed after a nightmare. “You promise the monsters won’t hurt me?” She’d whisper in the dark as she squeezed his hand. “Yes. As long as I’m here nothing will hurt you.” He’d reply.

“I’ll watch over him, okay? Or I can go grab Marvin if you want me to?”

“No, it’s okay man. I trust you with James. But if he wakes up, come grab me?”

He trusts him. Jackie trusts him with the most important person in his life. Chase’s heart doubles its pace as the weight of the words settle into his soul.

“Ye-Yeah. Of course man. I’ll come grab you.”

“Thanks Chase. You’re too good to me.”

A small pat on Jackie’s back, a hand ruffled in hair and the soft click of the door and suddenly he was alone with the man of the hour.

He can hear the water coming down from the bathroom next door and Jackie’s music blasting from his phone speakers. He made a note in the back of his mind to just get him a waterproof speaker, to save his phone from water damage. Jackie’s phone was busted enough as is.

Chase pushes the thoughts away as he sits down on the edge of the bed reaching over to turn the tableside light on with a click.

He somehow looks so much better and at the same time worse than he did in the picture. A beautiful green glow of Marvin’s magic wrapped around all the bruises and cuts that Chase could see. His cheeks were still hollowed out but at least he looks peaceful. Someone managed to get all the old and new blood off of him, and his arms are bandaged up in colorful blue and green gauze. No more red strings dragging his limp body up, his head lulls to the side in a comfortable position. His hands spell out something that Chase barely sees in the light.

Shit. He isn’t supposed to be awake yet.

“Go back to sleep James. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Jameson’s hands twitch before spelling out something small. Delicate little letters that seem to hold all the love in the world. Well crap, should've paid more attention to those sign lessons.

“R-E-D” He signs “M-A-R-V-E-L”

R-E-D, Red, why is he asking for red? Does he see something red? Chase looks around the room for the red thing he wants. Jackie’s hoodie? Is that it? Chase grabs the plush red thing from off the hook and brings it back to Jameson.

“Hey did you want this? It’s Jackie’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you wearing it. He’s in the shower right now but he’ll be back soon.” Chase knelt down so he was at eye level with Jameson. He takes the hoodie from Chase’s hands holding it close before his eyes drift close once again.

Chase gives a small smile and watches the man’s chest take in shallow breaths. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked Jackie out of stealing that oxygen tank. He might’ve needed it. But they could’ve also just taken him to the hospital, with proper doctors and nurses and experts that could’ve assessed the true damage. Prescribe him the meds that he’d probably need. Chase drapes his hand against Jameson’s forehead like he would with Chole when she was sick. The warmth was apparent, an unnatural burn from his body fighting off unwanted diseases and infection.

He looks back over the hastly patched up body parts and messy wounds draped in crimson gauze. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackie and Marvin were capable of taking care of small wounds, cuts and bruises that they got when they went out- but this? There was no way that they could cure all of this. Marvin was good with healing magic but he wasn’t a doctor.

He couldn’t fix all of this by himself.

“Hey, did he wake up?” Jackie whispers as he walks through the door drying off his hair with Marvin’s good white towel.

“Yeah for a second. He signed Red and Marvel and I got him your hoodie and said you were in the shower then he went back to sleep. It seemed to help but I honestly don’t know what he was saying.”

“Oh, those are his nicknames for us. I loved red when I was a kid, so “little Red” was my nickname and Marvin was his “little Marvel.” We're not so little anymore, so Red and Marvel.”

“That’s really sweet Jacks.”

“Yeah, he’s too good for us.” Jackie says sitting on the edge of the bed next to Chase. He watches as Jackie wipes the tears from his face as he grabs his father figure’s hand. “He’s so frail, Chase. I-He’s not going to die. Right? I just got him back. He’s not going to die.”

It was moments like this that Chase is reminded that Jackie is twenty-five and barely functioning. A traumatized man who's known nothing but pain and suffering. He puts on a brave face so often and he’s tough, so fucking tough, but it only took a single arrow to kill Achiles and it only takes one death to break a man.

“Jackie, I think we should take him to a hospital.”

“No doctors.” He replies as if it was automation. And after everything he’s been through, Chase doesn’t blame him.

“Jackie, there’s only so much we can do. They’re professionals.”

“No they’ll get him hooked on painkillers or mess up his meds. Or think that we did this to him! Or hand him over to IRIS! I can’t-I can’t let that happen to him, Chase! Doctors ruined our lives! They can’t be trusted!”

“Jackie, hey, man. Calm down, come here.” Chase extended his hand letting Jackie fall into him. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe, maybe we can get a private nurse or something? We won’t let him die.”

Or a private doctor. A light flicks on in Chase's brain. Henrik. A friend he hasn’t talked to since Anti came back into his life. They were both haunted by the creature and Henrik had just recently got his life together. A new job and meds. His sanity mostly restored. He couldn’t rope Henrik into everything after his recovery.

He just disappeared for months. No calls or texts. No one was willing to help locate him or even willing to listen to Chase talk about him. And then he came back. Disheveled and confused. Going on and on about the man they had both seen in the shadows. It took months for Henrik to fully recover and Chase was one of the few who stayed by him.

And he tried to go back to work, be a surgeon again but he couldn’t. He got fired three weeks later. But Henrik managed to land a comfy job using one of his several degrees. Corner office with a view- last he heard- fully funded and a proper lab. And Chase couldn’t bare to impose on that.

But he still technically has his medical license. He could help. He had to help. If Chase begged and pleaded and explained the situation. Henrik could be… cold to say the least, but he wasn’t cruel. He had a heart behind those walls of steel and iron. Chase had seen it for himself first hand.

“What if I brought a friend?” Chase asks, “He’s a doctor but he doesn’t practice anymore and he’ll understand our situation.”

“Chase, I really don’t want a doctor touching James. And Marvin would be pissed if we found out we were even considering this.”

“Just let me give him a call?”

Jackie seems to mull it over, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before he looks Chase in the eye, “You really trust him?”

Chase meets his gaze without hesitation, “With my life.”

That’s how they met after all. A young 20 year old Chase was admitted to the hospital after screaming about something in the shadows trying to kill him. Henrik was fresh out of med school doing rounds trying to figure out where in the system was best suited for him. And most importantly the only one who believed Chase. He too was haunted by the thing that lurks in the shadows, pushing him to do dangerous things, threatening him if he didn’t follow through. They became close friends after they realized they share a tormentor.

And then there was… the attempt. Henrik was the only one who bothered to care for him after everything. He was the one who visited, bringing him fresh clothes and the good food. He was the one who would sit with him and promise that everything will one day be okay.

“Okay then. Call him.” Jackie relents.

“Thanks Jacks. Grab a cookie and get some sleep.” Chase says as he gets up from his spot.

“I’ll try.” He laughs quietly, more of a short breath as exhaustion was still clear under his eyes.

“Night Jackie.”

“Night Chase.”

Chase closes the door with a click and collapses back on the couch with a small huff. Checking the clock on his phone: 3:15. It would be about 11:30 in London, if that’s where Henrik still was. Henrik was never one to settle down in one place, especially after his own divorce. Bouncing from country to country, state to state, city to city. He always claimed it was for better opportunities and to see the world, but Chase knew the truth. It’s easier to just go if you have no attachments. And with Anti always right behind you, you have to go a lot.

Chase hovers over the call button glancing at the clock. No matter what timezone he’s in he’s probably awake. Henrik was the only person in the world who could run at full function with only 3 hours of sleep. So long as he got that cup of black coffee with 2 sugars. But still, the thought of waking him up or bothering him while he was doing something important ate at his nerves.

But this was for Jameson. Someone his boys deeply cared about. His pride be damned

Chase pressed the contact and listened to the drone of the ring.

His leg was bouncing by the third ring.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. At the tone please record your message when you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

The phone beeps and Chase sighs.

“Hey, Henrik, it’s Chase. I’m alive. Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. It’s a really long story, but I need some help. My friend, he’s dying and he doesn’t trust most doctors. Longer story. I don’t even know where in the world you are but if you can come to LA, I’ll pay for the flight and the cab fare and the hotel, just please get here as soon as you can. I miss you. I promise I’ll explain it all just, get here now. Please.”

Chase hangs up the phone and lays down on the couch, pulling the chaotic pile of twisted blankets on top of his body. He rests his phone against his stomach as he stares at the landlord-white popcorn ceiling, mind reeling over everything that had happened within the last few hours. It was a small miracle when his eyes finally slipped closed and his mind faded to black.

———

Thank you once again to @jellyfishdooter for pushing me to continue this project. I love you so much!!!

[Want more?]

[parkswritessometimes]

oh I made an ALTRVERSE Bingo card

the blank is under the cut if you want to make one of your own. (I would love to see them if you make one!)

[credit]

[parkswritessometimes]

Marvin is the first of the pair to wake up. He looks down at his sleeping companion and gives a small smile. He stayed. Well of course he stayed Marvin practically trapped him under his sleeping body. That and it’s Sunday. He’d never leave even if Marvin wanted him to. Marvin could commit the most heinous of crimes and as long as he explained himself to Sunday, he’d go with it. He was far too loyal for his own good.

Marvin gives him a quick peck on his forehead before standing up, not like Sunday will ever notice. He could sleep through a magical hurricane if he was tired enough. A small little kiss wasn’t going to affect him.  

Marvin’s body creaks and pops as he stretches himself out, sore from sleeping on the couch all night. But his mind does feel much clearer than it did last night, full of paranoia and fear. But his brave knight in shining armor, Sunday, always comes through and saves him from his own demons. 

Time for a thanks. Marvin turns on his electric kettle letting the water come to a boil. He grabs some of his favorite tea packets and Sunday’s mug, a blue mug with a painting of the sun and the moon on it, from his cupboard and waits. 

“What do you think Higs?” Marvin says petting his familiar. His cat doesn’t even grant him the dignity of sparing him a glance, only pawing at the metal container that held his food. “You’re thinking I need to give you breakfast. Fair enough, Higgy.” Marvin scoops the kibble into the dish letting the pieces clatter at the bottom. He grabs a fresh can of wet cat food and places it next to the dry food. 

“There you go Prince Higgins, first his name and next in line of this kingdom. Enjoy your breakfast. Speaking of which.” Marvin grabs his phone from the counter and opens up one of the dozens of food delivery apps. He wasn’t in the mood to actually cook something, even though he’s gotten much better at it over the years this seemed like a breakfast-in-bed kind of day. And Sunny deserved it. 

The kettle dings signaling that the water has come to a boil. Marvin pours the hot water into their mugs and plops his favorite mint tea spice blend his and Sunday’s favorite chai blend into his. 

“Aw, did you get up early to make us tea?” Sunday says taking his mug off of the counter. 

“Yes, and I thought I could be all nice and bring it to you while you’re still asleep so you’d still have something nice to wake up to.”  

“Sorry for ruining that plan.”

“You are forgiven.”

Marvin takes a long sip from his tea closing his eyes to take it all in. Ras once said that to truly experience the wonder of tea one had to dull the senses. Back then he was just a child and couldn’t understand it, but now he’s gotten into the habit of closing his eyes whenever he so much as smells tea.

His eyes open and they land on the book in Sunday’s hands. One of his books, his personal journals in Sunday’s possession. He snatches it out of Sunday’s hands expecting a fight but Sunday lets it go like he was expecting it. 

“Did you read this?!”

“Marv-”

“What did you read in this?”

Sunday opens and closes his mouth and lets out a small sigh as anxiety surely twists his stomach into knots. Marvin watches him just reach over and flick the tab with the sun doodle and heart and heat rushes to Marvin's cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I thought. I dunno what I thought. I guess I just got curious." Marvin doesn't look at Sunday as he flips the page open and scans over his own writing, then with a dawning horror he looks at the other tabs he marked and finds 2 or 3 more with the same or similar doodle marking.

He could feel the pink embarrassment mask itself as red rage. Sunday knew. He knew!

“You had absolutely no right to do that!” Marvin says slamming the book down on the counter

“Oh please like you haven’t ever gone through my things!”

Sunday did have Marvin there. He did have a tendency to snoop where didn’t belong. 

“It was never as private as this!” Marvin shoots back

Marvin could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He’s never been mortified like this before. He can’t even look at Sunday in the eyes, but he can tell he’s getting closer. His hands lift his chin up forcing them to make contact and Marvin isn’t sure what this emotion is supposed to be. 

Fear? No, he’s felt true fear before this wasn’t it.

Embarrassment? Well, it was much different than what it was ten seconds ago. 

Love?

“I love you too Marvin,” Sunday says resting his hand on Marvin’s cheek.

Marvin leans into Sunday and presses his lips against Sunday’s. A smile forms when he realizes Sunday leans into him and is pulling him closer. 

The magic circle might have taken half a dozen confessions, but they won’t take this one. This one thing that happened in the privacy of his own home warded him to hell and back they can’t ever take that away from them.

“I love you.”

----

I wrote more

@kalcifers-blog @the3rddenialist

Sunday X Marvin

It’s been almost twelve hours without a text from Marvin. Usually, he’d respond within minutes of a message. A little emoji or acknowledgment that he was alive. But nothing. No response from the good morning text he sent when he woke up. Usually, Marvin was the one who woke up early and Sunday would wake up to a cute morning image of Higgins or a bedheaded, shirtless Marvin, but no message today. 

“You good, Kit-Kat?” Sunday types hitting send before his anxieties get the better of him. Marv was probably just too engrossed in a book to even acknowledge their phone. It’s happened before on a handful of occasions, but they always replied within a few hours with an apology or an excuse or something. 

But Sunday can’t stop this gut feeling that something was wrong. That something was wrong. He’s been getting that feeling a lot lately. Especially since the twins rose to power in the magic circle. This twisting feeling in his soul, in his magic. But this was so specific to Marvin like a magnetic force pulling him towards his friend.    

And it’s not like Marvin was going to ask for help if he needed it. Marvin has always been far too prideful for that. Raised by absent parents and a semi-sane mentor who could never be understood by anyone but Marvin, he was always destined to be an aloof person. It probably didn’t help that they were bullied for several years before Sunday came into the picture. 

Sunday was also an outsider always working twice as hard to keep up with the advanced classes he was put in. Magic always seemed to come so easy for everyone else. He’s lucky that he made the cut for the Magic Circle. It would have been so easy to cast him aside and label him a dud, but he was given a single chance. Same with Marvin.

It took a lot of time for Marvin to open up. Lots of shared candy bars, healing magic, repairing uniforms with his more practical sewing skills before Marvin even told Sunday his name. But over time Sunday could feel Marvin slowly opening up. Ivy creeping up his ivory walls until it flooded his heart. 

Now they’re 28 and living life, Marvin had a bookstore that never seemed to be open and Sunday worked for the Magic Circle, always one of the first people to be in the loop. And as much as it annoyed the higher-ups, Marvin was always the first one to know what was going on. It was a good thing the two of them had going on. 

Late-night phone calls that only ended when one of them fell asleep, cute photos, and inside jokes. Nicknames and practice kisses. And yeah their heart always skipped a beat or two or just flat-out stop when Marvin would lay their head in their lap, or hold his hand. But it was fine. Marvin was always skipping from person to person, never sticking with one partner for more than six months. Bar hookups, tinder profile pictures, bumble notifications, that always broke his heart just a little bit. But what was he going to do? Marvin was having fun and Sunday didn’t want to ruin their fun. 

Maybe that’s where Marvin was, on a date or he slept over at a guy’s house and forgot a charger. But still, that didn't feel right.

Sunday looks back down at their phone. No notification. Okay, time for a wellness check. 

“I’m coming over if you don’t text me in the next three seconds.”

“3”

“2”

“1”

“On my way. I’ll bring sushi as a peace offering.” 

Sunday grabs their favorite green cloak throwing it over their shoulder and goes out into London’s warm Summer night. 

—---

Sunday knocks on the door, okay more like pounds, trying to get Marvin’s attention. He wedges his cell phone between his ear and shoulder and listens to the ring over and over again before getting the standard “leave a message”.

“Vin, Kit-Kat, it’s me. Open up. I bring gifts and if you don’t open up I’m gonna portal up to your apartment. So do us both a favor and let me in!” He kicks the door a few more times to send a message before hanging up and shoving his phone into his pocket. Sunday looks up at the flat, the lights are on which is a good sign at the very least. He sighs yanking his bear charm free from his neck letting his mask form on his face. Magic wasn’t exactly allowed in public without a permit but he’s technically on Marvin’s property. He won’t get nicked for that. Hopefully.  The portal revealing Marvin’s room appears and he steps through closing the portal behind him. 

Higgin’s little merp and rub against his thighs settle some of his nerves but the main problem still remains. His mask swirls back into the necklace on his chest and the golden magic fades from his fingertips as his he pets Marvin’s little familiar. 

“Hey, Higgy. Where’s Marvin? You gonna lead me to him?” 

Higgins jumps up on the bed ignoring Sunday’s request. Typical little cat. Sunday pushes the door open wandering out into Marvin’s kitchen and living room. Notes, pictures, and drawings line the walls looking like the workings of a madman. And in the middle of it all Marvin, still in his pajamas, pacing around the room.

“Uh, Marv? You there mate?” Sunday asks, but Marvin keeps pacing and muttering to himself. Sunday sets the dinner down on the countertop and walks over the scattered pages of Marvin’s writing. Slowly, carefully with each step Sunday moves forward trying not to mess up any of Marvin’s work. Their hand finally finds their way to Marvin’s shoulder and in an instant, Marvin’s mask is on and lighting in his hands. 

“Woah! Hey! Hey! Marvin! It’s me! It’s me.” Sunday says throwing their hands up.

“Sunday. Sunday…Sunny.” Marvin says, almost as if he’s in a trance. 

“Yeah, Kit-Kat. It’s me. It’s Sunny.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I used a portal and you weren’t answering your phone. I got worried.”

The fogginess in Marvin’s eyes clear and they flash into so many emotions going from fear to sadness to anger all within seconds. 

"I don't need your help, Sunday." Marvin’s green eyes drill into Sundays. And for anyone else, this would probably strike fear into their souls. But not Sunday. Sunday knows that look. It’s not true anger, if it was he’d be on fire. It’s that pride getting in his way. The fear that if he opens up he’ll be left alone on the porch begging for someone, anyone to stay. He has to push everyone so far away that his heart will never bleed like that again.

"Yeah, I know, kit-kat. You don’t need anyone’s help." Sunday whispers in a soothing tone taking a step forward. Marvin may growl and snarl like a feral cat from time to time but Sunday knows him better than anyone, including Marvin himself. He was just tired and clearly scared of something going on. Whatever he found must have truly shaken him to the core.

“Don’t say it in that fucking tone Sunday. Why the fuck are you even here? Did the twins send you? Because you can tell them-"

 "I came because I was worried. So can you just sit down for five minutes and let me bring you the dinner I bought before Higgins eats it?” Sunday’s golden glow wraps around their fingertips and rests against Marvin’s face. Their thumb go up and down their beard as they try to soothe Marvin. 

“Sunny…”

“It’s sushi, and I know you have some good wine. Let me get us some glasses and you can tell me what's going on.”

“Probably skip the wine.”

“Vinny, did you not eat this morning?”

“I think so? I can’t remember.”

“Okay, let's sit down.” Sunday grabs his friend’s hand and guides him down to the couch. Marvin’s head instantly rests against Sunday’s chest and Sunday finds his hand in his friend's long brown hair. “Do you want to talk first or eat?”

“What did you bring?”

“Sushi.”

“I want to eat first.”

“Okay, kit-kat. Let me grab the food.” Marvin squeezes him closer, refusing to let him get up from his spot. Sunday sighs knowing that he isn’t going anywhere. He opens a small portal allowing the food to fall through and onto the coffee table in front of them. 

“I got California rolls, rainbow rolls, and some salmon nigiri.” 

“You spoil me, Sunny.” 

“I know.” Sunday begins to unpack all the takeout from the plastic bag laying it all out on the table. He hands Marvin a pair of chopsticks and lets him dig in. With Marvin off of him, he gets up and goes back to the kitchen. He grabs a glass from his friend’s cabinet and fills it to the brim with cold water. 

“You want me to grab Higgins?”

“No, that’s okay. He’d just get lost in the papers anyway.”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that.”

“It’s all my notes, I’m trying to decipher some of them.”

“Why? Aren’t they your notes?”

“Yes, but I can’t remember writing some of them.”

“Well, you’ve written so many it doesn’t surprise me you’ve forgotten some of them.” Sunday sets the cold glass in front of Marvin and nudges him towards it. 

“No that’s not the issue, the issue was they were wiped from my memory.” 

Sunday shakes his head and jolts back in surprise. Ras has been wiping Marvin’s memories? Thats-why would he do that? He practically raised Marvin. The Magic Circle has always said that he was dangerous and an outsider. Breaking the rules of magic and not conforming to the laws set in place to keep the world safe, but mental magic? On Marvin? That’s almost too much to bear. No wonder Marvin got so angry. His trust must be shattered on the floor in a million pieces. 

“Ras has been using mental magic on you?! We gotta report this! You can stay at my house until the council has him imprisoned.” 

“What no! Sunday! Ras hasn’t been tampering with my memories. The Circle has been.”

The Circle? No. They were a bit…shifty but what governmental organization isn’t?! Members of parliament and even the prime minister took bribes and did some shady stuff and they were in charge of the country! Don’t even get him started on the mess that was America's government system. But there's no way that The Magic Circle was doing something like that to its members. To Marvin. To Him.   

“Marvin, I think-”

Marvin yanks off his necklace and lets his cat mask form in his hand. The green ethereal glow signaled that some enchantment had been left on it.

“I have it recorded. The twins, they took so much away from us, Sunny. Just look.”

Sunday takes the mask and places it on his face. Green-tinted visions of the past come before his eyes. That’s him in the corner, looking over at Marvin, but he definitely doesn’t remember this. A dead body on a slab with the twins matching fox masks firmly on their faces. Their muffled voices told them to leave the room and like the good peons they were, they left. 

“We’ve reached the limits of what direct observation can show us.”

“Even magical observation is insufficient.”

“Necromancy then.”

The twins cast a spell causing the body to rise up. Sunday’s never seen anything like it. He’s always been told something like this was illegal except in the hands of the authorities. People with permits and power. He couldn’t even pay attention to the answers the body was giving, too shocked by the twin's actions to do anything. 

The body collapses back on the table and Sunday almost does as well. But just when he thought the worst was over.

“We might use Mind’s Eye.” One of them says. Mind’s Eye was one of the most dangerous spells that could be cast on such a body. The Malia it takes could easily drain that of the corpses and the users, leaving everyone involved just dust on the floor. 

“The risk would be enormous.”

“To lesser magicians than we.”

“Very well we do need answers.”

“There remains malia sufficient in the husk to achieve it once.”

The twins touch their fingers to the corpse's skull letting the purple mist swirl around the room chaotically. Sunday can’t make out the images but he knows in his soul it’s bad. The body screams out like it’s dying again before crumbling to ash. 

The twins put their masks back on allowing everyone to rejoin them. Sunday and Marvin are the first to come in but still, Sunday can not remember even being in this room.

Sunday is all but helpless to watch as Marvin picks up his mask as the twins talk.

“We learned much from this vessel, but little of substance.”

“The circumstances of its death were byzantine and inconsequential.”

“A matter of science. Nothing with which to trouble ourselves. Whatever happened to this man does not concern the magic circles. We needn’t investigate further.”

“You needn’t even remember what transpired here.”

The twins chat to cast a spell and just like that the memory is gone. The recording stops and Sunday takes the mask off of his face. 

They took their memories. 

They took his memories.

They took Marvin’s memories. 

Over a man who died to science?! Over something so simple and inconsequential?! What did they erase that was important?! Did they erase a full days months or even years from his head?! How could they do something like that?!

“Marv, what the hell are we going to do? Can we get those memories back?! I can’t- What else did they take from us?!” Could they take larger pieces? Could they take whole people out of the memory? Could they take relationships? When was the limit where they couldn’t touch the memories?! 

“I don’t know. I have regained a few memories they took but that’s only because Ras drilled it in me to record my notes and journal my days. I’m trying to fill the gaps but I think most of them are gone.”

“Shit Marv. What are we going to do?”

“I honestly don’t know. Start recording with our masks? Compare notes?”

“That’s a start I suppose.” 

Marvin takes his spot back in Sunday’s chest and Sunday holds him tight. But it doesn’t stop the intense flood of anxiety coursing through his body. Pumped by the growing beat of his heart. 

Forgetting Marvin would be like forgetting his own name, his own being. They were so intertwined there was no way they could make them forget each other. Right? They surely couldn’t rip each other away. They would have done that years ago with Marvin and Ras. The twins never kept it a secret that they hated the man and constantly pushed Marvin to ditch his mentor. But Marvin was too stubborn, too loyal to even consider that an option.  

He looks back down at his friend only to find him asleep, all curled up in their lap. Sunday smiles and traces over Marvin’s tattoos with their finger. 

“No one will take me from you Marvin. I promise. No matter what.” They plant a little kiss on Marvin’s forehead and shuffle to a more comfortable position on the couch. No use in fighting it, he was gonna spend the night on the couch with Marvin. Not the first time this has happened and certainly not the last. He leans over and grabs a blanket from off the floor and drapes it over the two of them. 

Sunday wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep, still processing the huge mind fuck that the Magic Circle was doing this. And Marvin’s notes and research were within arms reach; he might as well catch up on what Marvin found. His fingertips find a large leather-bound book and pull it closer. Colorful tabs dot the pages probably signifying different spells he needed. 

Sunday opens it up to the first tab to find Marvin’s handwriting. No mention of spells or anything. Sunday immediately closes it and sets it down on Marvin’s back. Not today. There has to be something else he can read to get caught up on all this a spell book or something. But all of the notes around him seem to be in Marvin’s messy cursive writing. 

And then something catches his eye. One of the tabs on Marvin's journal had a little sun and a heart. He rarely lets curiosity get the best of him, that was more Marvin’s department, but he has to know what the little doodle of his nickname was doing there. He opens the book back up and begins to read the tabbed page.

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask Sunny out after this meeting. I know we’re already kinda going out but I’m gonna make it official with him today. I’m in love with him and I’m sure he’s in love with me. Just gotta finish this meeting. I’m pretending to take notes but it's so dreadfully boring. I swear the twins are the stiffest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime. 

Sunday doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tear hits the page and smudges the ink. Did they take away that moment? Did they even allow them to have it? It’s not like Sunday could remember it. But he can just imagine it. Marvin just blurts out their feelings and he just goes red with embarrassment as Marvin uses sweet words until they kiss. 

And Magic Circle just took it away like it was nothing. 

Did Marvin know? He had to, he marked it after all. But…fuck. Did they take more moments like that away from them? How many times did they confess only to have the Magic Circle have it erased? 

Sunday wipes the tears away and takes another deep breath. He looks back down at Marvin and traces his finger across his jaw. He looks so peaceful right now. And as much as he wants to wake him up and tell him that he’s right, that he’s in love with him, that he wants to spend the rest of their lives together. It can wait. One big revelation at a time.

Sunday gives him one more kiss on the head and pulls the blanket up to Marvin’s shoulders. Both of them are gonna need sleep if they’re gonna figure out how to save their memories from future tampering. 

“Goodnight Marvin. I love you.”

-----

I don't usually write shippy stuff but here y'all go!

----

Tag List:

@kalcifers-blog

@the3rddenialist

[parkswritessometimes]

Sunday X Marvin

It’s been almost twelve hours without a text from Marvin. Usually, he’d respond within minutes of a message. A little emoji or acknowledgment that he was alive. But nothing. No response from the good morning text he sent when he woke up. Usually, Marvin was the one who woke up early and Sunday would wake up to a cute morning image of Higgins or a bedheaded, shirtless Marvin, but no message today. 

“You good, Kit-Kat?” Sunday types hitting send before his anxieties get the better of him. Marv was probably just too engrossed in a book to even acknowledge their phone. It’s happened before on a handful of occasions, but they always replied within a few hours with an apology or an excuse or something. 

But Sunday can’t stop this gut feeling that something was wrong. That something was wrong. He’s been getting that feeling a lot lately. Especially since the twins rose to power in the magic circle. This twisting feeling in his soul, in his magic. But this was so specific to Marvin like a magnetic force pulling him towards his friend.    

And it’s not like Marvin was going to ask for help if he needed it. Marvin has always been far too prideful for that. Raised by absent parents and a semi-sane mentor who could never be understood by anyone but Marvin, he was always destined to be an aloof person. It probably didn’t help that they were bullied for several years before Sunday came into the picture. 

Sunday was also an outsider always working twice as hard to keep up with the advanced classes he was put in. Magic always seemed to come so easy for everyone else. He’s lucky that he made the cut for the Magic Circle. It would have been so easy to cast him aside and label him a dud, but he was given a single chance. Same with Marvin.

It took a lot of time for Marvin to open up. Lots of shared candy bars, healing magic, repairing uniforms with his more practical sewing skills before Marvin even told Sunday his name. But over time Sunday could feel Marvin slowly opening up. Ivy creeping up his ivory walls until it flooded his heart. 

Now they’re 28 and living life, Marvin had a bookstore that never seemed to be open and Sunday worked for the Magic Circle, always one of the first people to be in the loop. And as much as it annoyed the higher-ups, Marvin was always the first one to know what was going on. It was a good thing the two of them had going on. 

Late-night phone calls that only ended when one of them fell asleep, cute photos, and inside jokes. Nicknames and practice kisses. And yeah their heart always skipped a beat or two or just flat-out stop when Marvin would lay their head in their lap, or hold his hand. But it was fine. Marvin was always skipping from person to person, never sticking with one partner for more than six months. Bar hookups, tinder profile pictures, bumble notifications, that always broke his heart just a little bit. But what was he going to do? Marvin was having fun and Sunday didn’t want to ruin their fun. 

Maybe that’s where Marvin was, on a date or he slept over at a guy’s house and forgot a charger. But still, that didn't feel right.

Sunday looks back down at their phone. No notification. Okay, time for a wellness check. 

“I’m coming over if you don’t text me in the next three seconds.”

“3”

“2”

“1”

“On my way. I’ll bring sushi as a peace offering.” 

Sunday grabs their favorite green cloak throwing it over their shoulder and goes out into London’s warm Summer night. 

—---

Sunday knocks on the door, okay more like pounds, trying to get Marvin’s attention. He wedges his cell phone between his ear and shoulder and listens to the ring over and over again before getting the standard “leave a message”.

“Vin, Kit-Kat, it’s me. Open up. I bring gifts and if you don’t open up I’m gonna portal up to your apartment. So do us both a favor and let me in!” He kicks the door a few more times to send a message before hanging up and shoving his phone into his pocket. Sunday looks up at the flat, the lights are on which is a good sign at the very least. He sighs yanking his bear charm free from his neck letting his mask form on his face. Magic wasn’t exactly allowed in public without a permit but he’s technically on Marvin’s property. He won’t get nicked for that. Hopefully.  The portal revealing Marvin’s room appears and he steps through closing the portal behind him. 

Higgin’s little merp and rub against his thighs settle some of his nerves but the main problem still remains. His mask swirls back into the necklace on his chest and the golden magic fades from his fingertips as his he pets Marvin’s little familiar. 

“Hey, Higgy. Where’s Marvin? You gonna lead me to him?” 

Higgins jumps up on the bed ignoring Sunday’s request. Typical little cat. Sunday pushes the door open wandering out into Marvin’s kitchen and living room. Notes, pictures, and drawings line the walls looking like the workings of a madman. And in the middle of it all Marvin, still in his pajamas, pacing around the room.

“Uh, Marv? You there mate?” Sunday asks, but Marvin keeps pacing and muttering to himself. Sunday sets the dinner down on the countertop and walks over the scattered pages of Marvin’s writing. Slowly, carefully with each step Sunday moves forward trying not to mess up any of Marvin’s work. Their hand finally finds their way to Marvin’s shoulder and in an instant, Marvin’s mask is on and lighting in his hands. 

“Woah! Hey! Hey! Marvin! It’s me! It’s me.” Sunday says throwing their hands up.

“Sunday. Sunday…Sunny.” Marvin says, almost as if he’s in a trance. 

“Yeah, Kit-Kat. It’s me. It’s Sunny.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I used a portal and you weren’t answering your phone. I got worried.”

The fogginess in Marvin’s eyes clear and they flash into so many emotions going from fear to sadness to anger all within seconds. 

"I don't need your help, Sunday." Marvin’s green eyes drill into Sundays. And for anyone else, this would probably strike fear into their souls. But not Sunday. Sunday knows that look. It’s not true anger, if it was he’d be on fire. It’s that pride getting in his way. The fear that if he opens up he’ll be left alone on the porch begging for someone, anyone to stay. He has to push everyone so far away that his heart will never bleed like that again.

"Yeah, I know, kit-kat. You don’t need anyone’s help." Sunday whispers in a soothing tone taking a step forward. Marvin may growl and snarl like a feral cat from time to time but Sunday knows him better than anyone, including Marvin himself. He was just tired and clearly scared of something going on. Whatever he found must have truly shaken him to the core.

“Don’t say it in that fucking tone Sunday. Why the fuck are you even here? Did the twins send you? Because you can tell them-"

 "I came because I was worried. So can you just sit down for five minutes and let me bring you the dinner I bought before Higgins eats it?” Sunday’s golden glow wraps around their fingertips and rests against Marvin’s face. Their thumb go up and down their beard as they try to soothe Marvin. 

“Sunny…”

“It’s sushi, and I know you have some good wine. Let me get us some glasses and you can tell me what's going on.”

“Probably skip the wine.”

“Vinny, did you not eat this morning?”

“I think so? I can’t remember.”

“Okay, let's sit down.” Sunday grabs his friend’s hand and guides him down to the couch. Marvin’s head instantly rests against Sunday’s chest and Sunday finds his hand in his friend's long brown hair. “Do you want to talk first or eat?”

“What did you bring?”

“Sushi.”

“I want to eat first.”

“Okay, kit-kat. Let me grab the food.” Marvin squeezes him closer, refusing to let him get up from his spot. Sunday sighs knowing that he isn’t going anywhere. He opens a small portal allowing the food to fall through and onto the coffee table in front of them. 

“I got California rolls, rainbow rolls, and some salmon nigiri.” 

“You spoil me, Sunny.” 

“I know.” Sunday begins to unpack all the takeout from the plastic bag laying it all out on the table. He hands Marvin a pair of chopsticks and lets him dig in. With Marvin off of him, he gets up and goes back to the kitchen. He grabs a glass from his friend’s cabinet and fills it to the brim with cold water. 

“You want me to grab Higgins?”

“No, that’s okay. He’d just get lost in the papers anyway.”

“Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that.”

“It’s all my notes, I’m trying to decipher some of them.”

“Why? Aren’t they your notes?”

“Yes, but I can’t remember writing some of them.”

“Well, you’ve written so many it doesn’t surprise me you’ve forgotten some of them.” Sunday sets the cold glass in front of Marvin and nudges him towards it. 

“No that’s not the issue, the issue was they were wiped from my memory.” 

Sunday shakes his head and jolts back in surprise. Ras has been wiping Marvin’s memories? Thats-why would he do that? He practically raised Marvin. The Magic Circle has always said that he was dangerous and an outsider. Breaking the rules of magic and not conforming to the laws set in place to keep the world safe, but mental magic? On Marvin? That’s almost too much to bear. No wonder Marvin got so angry. His trust must be shattered on the floor in a million pieces. 

“Ras has been using mental magic on you?! We gotta report this! You can stay at my house until the council has him imprisoned.” 

“What no! Sunday! Ras hasn’t been tampering with my memories. The Circle has been.”

The Circle? No. They were a bit…shifty but what governmental organization isn’t?! Members of parliament and even the prime minister took bribes and did some shady stuff and they were in charge of the country! Don’t even get him started on the mess that was America's government system. But there's no way that The Magic Circle was doing something like that to its members. To Marvin. To Him.   

“Marvin, I think-”

Marvin yanks off his necklace and lets his cat mask form in his hand. The green ethereal glow signaled that some enchantment had been left on it.

“I have it recorded. The twins, they took so much away from us, Sunny. Just look.”

Sunday takes the mask and places it on his face. Green-tinted visions of the past come before his eyes. That’s him in the corner, looking over at Marvin, but he definitely doesn’t remember this. A dead body on a slab with the twins matching fox masks firmly on their faces. Their muffled voices told them to leave the room and like the good peons they were, they left. 

“We’ve reached the limits of what direct observation can show us.”

“Even magical observation is insufficient.”

“Necromancy then.”

The twins cast a spell causing the body to rise up. Sunday’s never seen anything like it. He’s always been told something like this was illegal except in the hands of the authorities. People with permits and power. He couldn’t even pay attention to the answers the body was giving, too shocked by the twin's actions to do anything. 

The body collapses back on the table and Sunday almost does as well. But just when he thought the worst was over.

“We might use Mind’s Eye.” One of them says. Mind’s Eye was one of the most dangerous spells that could be cast on such a body. The Malia it takes could easily drain that of the corpses and the users, leaving everyone involved just dust on the floor. 

“The risk would be enormous.”

“To lesser magicians than we.”

“Very well we do need answers.”

“There remains malia sufficient in the husk to achieve it once.”

The twins touch their fingers to the corpse's skull letting the purple mist swirl around the room chaotically. Sunday can’t make out the images but he knows in his soul it’s bad. The body screams out like it’s dying again before crumbling to ash. 

The twins put their masks back on allowing everyone to rejoin them. Sunday and Marvin are the first to come in but still, Sunday can not remember even being in this room.

Sunday is all but helpless to watch as Marvin picks up his mask as the twins talk.

“We learned much from this vessel, but little of substance.”

“The circumstances of its death were byzantine and inconsequential.”

“A matter of science. Nothing with which to trouble ourselves. Whatever happened to this man does not concern the magic circles. We needn’t investigate further.”

“You needn’t even remember what transpired here.”

The twins chat to cast a spell and just like that the memory is gone. The recording stops and Sunday takes the mask off of his face. 

They took their memories. 

They took his memories.

They took Marvin’s memories. 

Over a man who died to science?! Over something so simple and inconsequential?! What did they erase that was important?! Did they erase a full days months or even years from his head?! How could they do something like that?!

“Marv, what the hell are we going to do? Can we get those memories back?! I can’t- What else did they take from us?!” Could they take larger pieces? Could they take whole people out of the memory? Could they take relationships? When was the limit where they couldn’t touch the memories?! 

“I don’t know. I have regained a few memories they took but that’s only because Ras drilled it in me to record my notes and journal my days. I’m trying to fill the gaps but I think most of them are gone.”

“Shit Marv. What are we going to do?”

“I honestly don’t know. Start recording with our masks? Compare notes?”

“That’s a start I suppose.” 

Marvin takes his spot back in Sunday’s chest and Sunday holds him tight. But it doesn’t stop the intense flood of anxiety coursing through his body. Pumped by the growing beat of his heart. 

Forgetting Marvin would be like forgetting his own name, his own being. They were so intertwined there was no way they could make them forget each other. Right? They surely couldn’t rip each other away. They would have done that years ago with Marvin and Ras. The twins never kept it a secret that they hated the man and constantly pushed Marvin to ditch his mentor. But Marvin was too stubborn, too loyal to even consider that an option.  

He looks back down at his friend only to find him asleep, all curled up in their lap. Sunday smiles and traces over Marvin’s tattoos with their finger. 

“No one will take me from you Marvin. I promise. No matter what.” They plant a little kiss on Marvin’s forehead and shuffle to a more comfortable position on the couch. No use in fighting it, he was gonna spend the night on the couch with Marvin. Not the first time this has happened and certainly not the last. He leans over and grabs a blanket from off the floor and drapes it over the two of them. 

Sunday wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep, still processing the huge mind fuck that the Magic Circle was doing this. And Marvin’s notes and research were within arms reach; he might as well catch up on what Marvin found. His fingertips find a large leather-bound book and pull it closer. Colorful tabs dot the pages probably signifying different spells he needed. 

Sunday opens it up to the first tab to find Marvin’s handwriting. No mention of spells or anything. Sunday immediately closes it and sets it down on Marvin’s back. Not today. There has to be something else he can read to get caught up on all this a spell book or something. But all of the notes around him seem to be in Marvin’s messy cursive writing. 

And then something catches his eye. One of the tabs on Marvin's journal had a little sun and a heart. He rarely lets curiosity get the best of him, that was more Marvin’s department, but he has to know what the little doodle of his nickname was doing there. He opens the book back up and begins to read the tabbed page.

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask Sunny out after this meeting. I know we’re already kinda going out but I’m gonna make it official with him today. I’m in love with him and I’m sure he’s in love with me. Just gotta finish this meeting. I’m pretending to take notes but it's so dreadfully boring. I swear the twins are the stiffest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime. 

Sunday doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the tear hits the page and smudges the ink. Did they take away that moment? Did they even allow them to have it? It’s not like Sunday could remember it. But he can just imagine it. Marvin just blurts out their feelings and he just goes red with embarrassment as Marvin uses sweet words until they kiss. 

And Magic Circle just took it away like it was nothing. 

Did Marvin know? He had to, he marked it after all. But…fuck. Did they take more moments like that away from them? How many times did they confess only to have the Magic Circle have it erased? 

Sunday wipes the tears away and takes another deep breath. He looks back down at Marvin and traces his finger across his jaw. He looks so peaceful right now. And as much as he wants to wake him up and tell him that he’s right, that he’s in love with him, that he wants to spend the rest of their lives together. It can wait. One big revelation at a time.

Sunday gives him one more kiss on the head and pulls the blanket up to Marvin’s shoulders. Both of them are gonna need sleep if they’re gonna figure out how to save their memories from future tampering. 

“Goodnight Marvin. I love you.”

-----

I don't usually write shippy stuff but here y'all go!

----

Tag List:

@kalcifers-blog

@the3rddenialist

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees Of IRIS CHPTR 7

[CHPTR 1] [Previous]

Chase slams his laptop shut and throws the device down beside him with a small bounce. This was useless; he wasn't going to get any sort of learning done while his mind was full of cotton. His entire body feels disgusting and wrong, and his mind was too buzzy to focus on anything on that fucking screen. He looks up towards the ceiling, his mind everywhere but where it needs to be. 

Jackie and Marvin had been gone for three hours and already Chase was a fucking mess. Curled up on the couch with a heavy blanket and a cup of Marvin’s mint tea. His mind racing with panic and questions. A month ago he only would have been worried about himself, saving his own skin. But now he couldn’t care less, he only wants Jackie and Marvin to come back safely. Come back home. Chase scratches his arms, his nails digging into his skin as he tries to focus on anything else but his boys. 

What would he even do without them? They were the only reason he was sober. Would he spiral out? Drink until he dies in a ditch? Buy a gun and end it all? Keep on going, living because that's what they would want for him? God, would he be in charge of their funerals? Would that thing even leave a body? Probably, leave them right on the front doorstep and send one final message before he takes over for good. Letting him feel that pain and anguish until the body eventually withers and dies. 

Fucking. Focus. Get back to work. Don’t think about the monster. 

Chase takes in a deep breath and lets all the anxiety out. It’s fine. It will be fine. Chase puts his laptop back in his lap and went back to his BSL research. He already mastered the basics, letters, numbers, and his own name. What was next, colors, animals, food? Definitely food. The rest he could memorize later. After all, how was Jameson going to ask for food if Chase didn’t understand? 

The entire screen and instructor were just a blurred mess, with each sign shoved into his brain, the fuzz grew. He let gravity take him down, his entire front side smashing into the couch. But the weight of the world and worry remained.

How did he even get here? Three years ago everything was fine. Three years ago he was celebrating Chole’s second birthday with Stacy, the demon seeming to only be a faint memory. His channel was starting to pick back up after a massive creative slump, and his new meds were finally starting to kick in. He was happy. Really happy. Almost too happy. It lasted about six months before the voices started coming back.

They were small at first, intrusive thoughts that Chase had no intention of following through on. Thoughts of stabbing himself when he held a kitchen knife, or swallowing one too many pills. But then he started appearing again, out of the corner of his eye. The man who lived in the shadows. And then he could hear his voice and see him clear as day. Two months later, Stacy and Chole left. 

What did he even do to deserve all of this? Was it just that he was at the wrong place at the wrong time? Did Anti just like all the misery he could feed off of? Or was he just that fucking special? 

Focus, Chase! Focus. What was supposed to be doing again? Right BSL. He pulls up the YouTube tutorial he's been following for the basics and hits the spacebar to play. He watches the sign instructor sign each word again and again, replaying the same section trying to absorb any information.

Were his boys in danger? How could he have let them go? He knew that Anti was dangerous, more than dangerous, he could kill them with just a single touch and he still let them go. He let them go to their deaths. He didn’t even fight them or try to talk them out of it. It's almost as if he wanted them to die.

“Fuckin-” Chase stands up and starts to pace the floor back and forth, back and forth. He can’t keep doing this, can’t keep spiraling. It won’t do anyone any good. He needs something to do that wasn’t learning or mindlessly scrolling through Twitter or TikTok. 

His eyes dart around the apartment eventually landing on the kitchen and he makes a snap decision. He can't think about losing his new family if he's too engrossed in an over-complicated recipe. Plus if- when his boys got home, there would be fresh treats.

He throws open the cupboard, his hands grabbing anything he might need. Flour, vanilla, sugar, baking powder. If it goes into a pastry his hands fly to it. 

Cookies. He thinks as he looks at the ingredients. Big juicy chocolate chip cookies. The ones that melt in your mouth as you bite into them. They had everything he needed for it. Marvin bought endless ingredients each week swearing that he’d bake something this time, then immediately forget as he cooked everything but pastries. Chase smiles at the simple memory of Marvin hogging the kitchen as Jackie sits on the counter talking about his day. 

He allows his thoughts to drift into bittersweet memories as he begins to combine all the dry ingredients into a bowl. Smiles and laughs of his daughter as he boops her nose with a finger full of frosting. Marvin tending to Jackie’s cuts and bruises much to Jackie’s dismay. Memories of small panic attacks, screams, and promises of comfort and safety come as he stirs in the eggs. Warm cups of hot cocoa as he mixes in the melted butter. Playful sparring with Jackie that somehow ended with him floating in the air as the mixer whirs. 

Chase grabs the bag of chocolate chips that he nibbles on from the back of the cupboard, and folds them into the dough letting the feeling of melancholy helplessness settle into his bones. It will be okay. He’ll survive. Jackie and Marvin are damn powerful; they can handle Anti together. And he was safe. Marvin taught him how to check in on the wards and they owned this apartment, so he wouldn’t get kicked out. He’s gonna be just fine. 

Chase takes out his frustration onto the dough as he rolls them into rough spheres and slams them down onto the parchment paper. He throws them into the oven without a second thought. 

Sweet treats. They’re gonna fucking love these.

Chase pops some of the raw cookie dough into his mouth, letting himself savor the crunch of chocolate. He always poked fun at Jackie for having a random pack of chocolate chips around to snack on, but hey, came in handy. Can’t ever be mad at that. He grabs a chair from the dining room table and just sits, watching the timer countdown. 

He doesn't need to be sitting in front of the oven. They're cookies, it's not a delicate confection that would collapse if you breathed at it wrong. But there was something about having the oven light on and watching them flatten and rise into the familiar, comforting disk shape.

He hopes Jameson will like these. Who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies? Monsters, that's who. And Jameson definitely didn’t seem like a monster. The way Jackie described him, and how he cried and screamed over his photo, the way Marvin got so angry, so protective. That was genuine love for a genuine person. No matter what IRIS or that fucking demon did. 

Oh! IRIS! Chase gets up from his spot in front of the oven and goes to Jackie’s room. He knows he saw a file for Jameson somewhere around here. He digs through the mountain of random papers and files until he finds it. A big black folder with “Jameson’s shit” written on it in Marvin’s handwriting. 

Blank forms and papers full of scribbles, photos of a single room with a man on the bed burst. Pages fell onto his lap with the IRIS logo, so many he didn’t even know where to start. He began to spread them all out, a bunch of puzzle pieces on the floor, he just needed to find the edge pieces to start. Maybe an intake form? Something like that had to exist. He turns each and every page over until he finds the thing he’s looking for. 

ALTR JA-51-91514 INTAKE FOLDER

Name: Jameson Jackson

Date: 15/09/1922

IRIS LOCATION: London Center 183 West Wing

Anomaly: ✔ Yes ___ No

Anomaly Powers: The subject has abilities to manipulate time around its person, speeding up or slowing down time. The subject is reported to be able to forward and rewind time on organic matters. Unknown if this is the cause of deja vu of the surrounding town. 

Main Attending: Dr. Wilkinson

Sub Attending: Dr. Feilds

Notes: ALTR JA-51-91514 displays typical intake anger and frustration. Displays no signs of deja vu, or time confusion. Subject can not speak and prefers to write or use his hands to speak, an interpreter will be needed for future interviews. Subject will need to be placed inorganic steel compound. Compound #301 is recommended and available. 

Please see the following forms for other inquiries and initial interviews. 

Chase puts it to the side and digs through the papers for more. There was nothing else in the folder and everything was singed like it was trying to be burned and lost to time. Papers that he needed to find were lost or perhaps never existed in the first place. The only paper he could find for the rest of the year was one from three days later. 

18/09/1922

Log Number: 001

IRIS Location: [Redacted]

ALTR Code: JA-51-91514

Attending: Dr. Wilkinson

Notes:

Subject has been violent and unresponsive in the days following containment, only asking for ‘Lila’ and ‘Eden’ with a provided pen and paper, (see introduction paper 3-C for more information.) CNC has not been able to locate the people the subject spoke about and they will remain on the green list until further notice. The subject has refused food and water for the third day in a row and refused any and all forms of outward stimulation. Subject remains violent and threatens to use dominion. Indications that the subject is about to use powers: Silver eyes coming from the subject, sudden waves of dizziness, sweating, and nausea. 

Subject was unwilling to help, scribbling all over the page ‘When can I go home?’ (See attached page). Will try again tomorrow.

Chase turns the page over, the interview his eyes glossing over the questions instead looking at the scribbles. 

When can I go home? Where is my wife? Do you have my daughter? Where’s my family? WHERE IS MY FAMILY? A little girl with brown hair and blue eyes and a woman, with tall and blue eyes too. She’s deaf, she can’t hear. She needs me. They need me. Where are they?

Chase looks back at the date, there's no way Marvin or Jackie were born yet, hell their parents haven’t even been born yet. He had a family, a flesh and blood family. Something to live for and go home too. Fuck. Fucking monsters. Chase’s hands continue to flip through each paper, each one containing the same thing “Subject was uncooperative, will try again tomorrow.” There were some reports about his magic and testing but nothing too interesting. Sixty years of nothing, sixty years of “subject sat perfectly still for hours until a Doctor came in for another round of questioning.”. The only thing of interest Chase could find was a report from ‘98.    

03/12/1998

Log Number: 27756

IRIS Location: [Redacted]

ALTR Code: JA-51-91514

Attending: Dr. Booth

Notes:

We decided to do something new with the ALTR. Reviewing its earliest files indicates that it once was a father. IRIS recently captured ALTR MA-18-22914 a five-year-old child who has been nonstop crying since its containment three days ago. MA was hesitant at first, hiding behind blankets and pillows for approximately three hours before approaching JA. From previous testing we know that magic users can sense and even track each other through “magic signatures”, but it took time for Subject MA to realize this new experience was supposed to be a positive interaction. Subject MA slowly moved over to Subject JA and the two began to bond passing notes. 

 Subject was able to help calm the MA down, Subject even ate for the first time in a month encouraging signs moving forward. Subject became very protective over MA refusing to leave and using its powers for the first time in a decade. (Proper date will be posted and recorded at different time). One member of JA’s team who tried to escort it back to its room disintegrated and turned into nothing but a pile of bones and dust before being brought back to life. Seeming to be a warning not to touch nor separate the pair. Oddly enough MA was not affected by the subject's powers, subject directed powers at CNC and other employees avoided the child completely. Further study on the directional behavior of these powers is recommended. 

How the fuck did he not eat for a month?! You couldn’t live off of pure spite for a month! Maybe he just lived off the souls of the IRIS employees that he killed, wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he had come across. Well, it would be up there but not the weirdest. That would be whatever ritual Marvin was doing that caused his head to turn all the way around like he was in the exorcist. That was weird. 

But Marvin? A shy little kid and James immediately protected him. That’s the kind of person Chase wishes he was. Everything Chase wants to be, are in these pages. A father with kindness in his heart, a way to protect and shield those he loves. Jameson apparently was willing to kill for a child he barely knew. No wonder Jackie is a hero, definitely got it from him. 

Oh! Jackie! Chase digs through the paper piles, he knows that he’s seen Jackie’s name float around these papers somewhere.

28/07/02

Log Number: 29056

IRIS Location: [Redacted]

ALTR Code: JA-51-91514

Attending: Dr. Booth

Notes:

JA was introduced to another child. Dr. Wilson unexpectedly introduced his daughter to the JA and MA pair after a lab accident that caused subject JQ-21-5129 to exhibit a strange phenomenon, immediately placing it into the ALTR category and subjecting it to containment and further testing.(Please see Subject JQ-21-5129 induction paperwork and Dr. Wilson’s account for further information.) Subject was hesitant at first, protecting Subject MA but quickly calmed once they realized the new stimulant was a child. Subject immediately wrote down information on the provided pen and paper. Upon realizing that subject JQ-21-5129 can not read, the subject seemed to ask for help in translation from subject MA. Subject JQ-21-5129 eventually joined the group, staying just out of arm's reach and constantly watching the door. Subject JA stayed up for the rest of the evening, giving subject JQ its food and letting them sleep in its bed. The subject still remains extremely protective over the two. Will need to up doses of Ketamine when extracting subjects MA and JQ from now on. 

JQ? Why would Jackie’s name be JQ? Chase thought to himself. All the dates and the testimony lined up but, JQ? And daughter? What the hell? Chase read the statement over and over again trying to find an explanation but nothing came. Great another mystery to solve. Add it to the pile. Something to ask Jackie when he came back. 

Chase goes to grab more papers, but the familiar buzzing pattern and a small chime come from his phone. His ears perk up and his heart flutters at the iconic Avengers ringtone that Jackie insisted on having for his text tone. Mystery would have to wait. 

From Jackie: “Be home in twenty. Love ya."

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Tag list:

@bookwormscififan

Thanks again to @jellyfishdooter for supporting me. Love you lots.

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[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees Of IRIS CHPTR 6

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

“Marv, come on man!” Jackie’s voice seeps in through the cracks in the door. 

“No, we have to get them involved!” Chase rolls over and pushes the pillow over his ears. The shouting match had been going on for what felt like hours. Debates on what their next move was, getting some organization involved that caused the two to scream some choice words. God is this what it was like for Chole? Hearing screaming matches go long into the night that leave  you exhausted in the morning? His poor baby.

“The magic circle doesn’t want us! When are you going to realize that? They do not care about you or me or James! They won’t help us!” “Yes they do! They have to! It’s Jameson, he-he’s-” “Just because we  care about him doesn’t mean the magic circle does! They’re a bunch of assholes, Marvin! They don’t want people like me, or tainted magicians like you!”

“I am not tainted!”

“They think you are! They said that right to your face!”

“Fuck you, Jackie!”

The screaming match finally comes to a close as the front door slams shut. Chase’s body tenses as the apartment shakes. Nothing those two say ever makes any sense. But to be fair, nothing has made sense for a while. Debates of magic and circles, and IRIS, and things Chase could never comprehend. 

Whatever though, Marvin would go out somewhere and cool down and they’d make up. They always made up. It will be fine. But a sound of pure devastation washes away any feeling of security. A single heartbreaking sob. Every part of Chase broke when he heard it. Like a child trying so hard to hold everything together but breaking at the first chance they can get. 

He was only twenty five after all, a full ten years younger than Chase, so much weight on the poor kids shoulders. He should be out partying, out with girls or guys, having stupid love trysts. Not holding an entire family together. 

Chase throws everything aside and pushes the door open . He doesn’t know if Jackie wants or even needs him to comfort him, but he does know something he can do to help. Cook.  Food always helps, and Jackie hasn’t eaten anything besides a protein bar, a five hour energy and a prayer for the last few days. If he just gets some food in that poor kid, things will be better. He hopes.

 Chase doesn’t say a word as he gets the pans out of the cupboard. He doesn’t know what to say, but he does know that this will help. Veggies from the crisper, eggs taken from the fridge and frozen hashbrowns from the freezer take their place on the counter.

“Hey, I’m making us an omelet and hash browns,” Chase calls  from the kitchen as he grabs the good knives from the back of the cabinet. “And don’t even think about protesting, just sit right there and don’t move.” Chase hears Jackie’s hum of acknowledgment, taking that as an agreement he wouldn’t grab his mask and jump out the window looking for an asshole to beat up. Good. He can’t watch Jackie stumble through the door with blood on his face again. 

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that. I didn’t-We didn’t- I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Jackie. I forgive you. Just, stay there, please.”

“Okay.”

The only noise in the apartment is the music coming from the stereo in the living room and the sizzle of the butters from the pans. But not a word comes from the two of them. The smell of breakfast, of home, spreads throughout the connected rooms. 

Chase watches Jackie from a distance making sure he stays in his place on the worn out couch. Jackie’s eyes continue to fixate on his board, his knees up to his chest and his chin resting in his knees. He watches in horror as hot, angry tears run down his face. Chase knew those tears. He’s cried them far too many times. Usually he’d dully the pain with sweet whiskey and rum. But he had a feeling that Jackie wanted, maybe even needed to feel it.

“You need to eat if you’re going to take down a big bad demon.” Chase plates the two meals and sets one down in front of Jackie and tilts his head towards it.  He watches as Jackie blinks a few times snapping out of his dissociative state.  

“Oh, thanks.” His voice is quiet and monotone, not fully back from his mind. “Of course, Jacks.” 

The knives and forks scrape against the plates and fill the void where a conversation would take place. He watches Jackie wipe his damp face with his hoodie. Chase reaches over and wipes the tears away.

Chase notices how Jackie almost disguises a flinch at the contact, staring down at his half-empty plate. Chase thinks he should pull his hand away but Jackie looks at him with those big sad eyes, and Chase stays.

“Hey, Jacks,” Chase whispers, his hands resting against Jackie’s face. “You wanna talk about it?” Jackie shrugs, but leans into his friend's touch. Chase smiles and waits for Jackie. He’d wait an eternity for Jackie.

“I don’t understand why Marvin doesn’t listen to me.” He whispers, turning away from Chase, “The magic circle doesn’t like us.”   

“Magic circle?”

“They’re a bunch of assholes. And they don’t-they hate people like us.”

“People that were in IRIS?”

“Yeah." Jackie spat, "We become tainted." He explained using his fingers to make air quotes, "Pumped full of chemicals and artificial magic and steroids and so much shit. The magic circle only wants those who are pure.” “Oh,” Chase manages to say, how was he supposed to reply to that? An organization that only wants people who are pure? That was messed up on so many levels he didn’t even know where to start.  

He turns back to talk to Jackie but only sees his eyes locked on the board staring down the scientist. More tears fall down his face as he bites his tongue and shakes his head, leg bouncing under the table. Chase tilts his head as he analyzes the face on the board. He never realized how similar the two of them looked. And then it all clicks.  

Marvin would smile and spin tale after tale about his life before IRIS, what little he lived of it, and talk about his magic, his people. Meanwhile, Jackie has never talked about his life before IRIS, his parents, or his powers- deflecting and laughing whenever someone even tries to bring up the subject. 

“Jackie, how did you get your powers?” Chase asks, each word carefully chosen to not send the hero off the edge. He watches as Jackie chuckles a bit as he wipes the tears from his eyes. 

“My dad was- is an IRIS scientist. One of the best. And I would sneak out of daycare to come visit him in his office. Because I loved him.” Chase slips his hand into Jackies and gives a small squeeze. He was here, he will listen.  “He was all I had. And I was a kid, I was five! How the fuck was I supposed to know not to touch the stupid electric orb and not drink the shit in the refrigerator! I was a kid! And he just threw me away! Like nothing! I was his son, his kid!”

“Jackie, Jackie, breathe. Take a deep breath.” Chase places Jackie’s hand on his chest and takes a deep breath with him. He places his hand on Jackie’s cheek brushing some of the hair out of his face. He’s watched Marvin comfort Jackie through panic attack after panic attack. He knows what to do. Kinda. Deep breaths, contact, and names. His name. “Jackie, hey, Jacks. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Chase presses his forehead against Jackie’s. They sit like that for a moment, maybe two. They sink into each other holding each other tight, as if there was a scientist or a monster waiting for the perfect moment to pull them apart. Chase moves his hand right above the small on Jackie’s back and pulls him close. He needs his friend as close to him as humanly possible.

It was almost instinct when Jackie tucked his head under Chase's chin, the father wanted to scoop up the young man and keep him close to his heart. But Chase wasn't that strong and Jackie was a bit too big, but they did the best they could. A small part of Chase’s mind thought that if he held on tight enough he could crush the crumbling pieces of his friend back together. 

And then he remembers Chloe coming home after school one day, crying her eyes out because she was bullied for bringing her favorite stuffed mouse. He tried shielding her small form from the big world. Giving her the biggest hug he could muster. But the terrible thing already happened, so all he could do now was comfort her the best he could manage. And afterwards they found a sewing kit in the closet and stitched the poor thing together. Chase wonders if he could do the same thing with Jackie. Find something that could stitch him back together and make him smile again.

“You don’t have to tell me anything more. I understand. It’s okay.” Chase breathes.

“No, no, I want to tell you. You deserve to know.” Chase nods and pulls back, continuing to rub Jackie’s back in small little circles. 

“Sparks were flying off my fingers, and I thought that was so cool. I was just like the heroes I’d watch on my morning cartoons. I just wanted to show my dad. And I will never forget the look on his face. That sick smile before he grabbed my arm and dragged me away. He threw me into a cell and left. I wish that was the last time I saw him. I wish he had left me there. But I saw that smile, that evil, everyday.”  

“Jackie,”

“But I had James, and Marv, and they took care of me. They were my family. James raised me. He’s my dad. And Marvin is my brother. And now Anti has him. And I have to help.”

Chase holds him close, his hand going around and around underneath the fabric of Jackie’s hoodie. His head resting on Jackie’s holding him close, as if this was second nature. As if they were two puzzle pieces with a perfect fit. Chase runs his hands through Jackie’s hair, pressing his head deeper into his own chest. He watches Jackie shift until he is practically on top of him. He could feel Jackie’s chest rise and fall against his own. 

“What about your mom? Where was she?” Chase whispers. The sound almost doesn't come out.

“My mom disappeared a few months before everything happened, my dad always said she left us. She left me. But I don’t think that’s what happened.” 

“Did you think he…”

“Yeah.”

“Shit , I’m so sorry.”

“It’s…thanks, man.” 

The quiet, peacefulness lulls over the apartment like a thick cozy blanket. The two of them hold each other close. Jackie sniffs every now and again, bringing all the emotions back into his chest. Chase rubs  one thumb up and down on Jackie’s arm and wipes away tears with the other. 

“Do you want to tell me about James? He sounds great.” 

“James is great. He’s very smart, and clever, I think he’s the reason Marv has such a smart mouth.” “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Which is surprising ‘cause he doesn’t talk.” “He doesn’t talk?”

“No, he communicates with his hands. I think it’s British sign language.” 

Sign language. Okay he can learn that. Maybe learn some basic signs, letters, numbers, foods, stuff like that. He was always a quick learner, when he really truly applied himself. He could learn the basics in a few days. 

“What else?”

“...he’s my hero. He kept me and Marv alive. “

“Well then I already like him.” 

“I think you two will be good friends. He was a dad too.” Chase nearly froze at that little remark, but refused to let that little slip keep him from keeping Jackie grounded. “And he had the cutest nicknames for us. He was really good at that, making us feel safe, even when we weren’t.”

“Well I think you’re gonna repay the favor soon enough.” Chases hasn’t even met the man and he feels indebted to him. He took care of his boys, when everyone else in the world had turned their back on them. Wait, when did he start thinking of Jackie and Marvin as his boys? Chase shook that small thought away.

Soft and simple food would have to be a priority for James. He looked so emaciated in the photo the ALTR gave him that food and even water would be near impossible to keep down. And James would definitely have priority for the bed, Chase could sleep on the couch or even on the floor if he needed it. What else, what else? Maybe some new pillows and blankets, something James could call his own. 

“What do you think James will need? I’ll grab it for you while you’re…out.”

“Chase, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to. You and Marv and soon James, you’re my-we’re-,” Chase doesn’t know what word to pick. Friends? It feels so much more than that, they protect each other, they love each other. But family? Chase has never been good at family. He ruined every family he ever had, he doesn’t want to ruin this one too. He doesn’t want this to fall apart. He loves Jackie. He loves Marvin. He doesn’t- 

“Family.” Jackie whispers. “We’re family.”

Chase feels his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah. Family.”

Neither one of them dared to move, or even breathe after that word left their lips. It was such a precious and beautiful word. Something reserved for only the most sacred of bonds. Family. Ha. Chase thought his last chance for that was buried six feet under an oak tree in the woods. But Marvin and Jackie, yeah. They were family. Chase made sure they ate and cleaned up their shit, covered them with blankets when their magic and hero sessions went just a little too late.  Jackie was always ready with a hug and kind words, and Marv was there whenever Chase needed to talk, or craved a drink. 

They were broken men who needed each other. 

But now, together, they’re slowly becoming whole again.

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Thanks @jellyfishdooter for helping. Couldn't have done it without you!

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Hey do you want a full fic of how Jackie got his powers? Becuase you're getting it.

Also happy comic release day!

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 7]

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[Want more?]

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees Of IRIS CHPTR 5

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

Chase raises his hand as he blocks out the morning sun. He blinks once, twice, three times

as he comes back to reality. The rumble of the tires against the pavement fill the small car. His eyes glance from sign to sign, the words broken and meaningless. He sighs and focuses back on the road. 

His face contorts as flashes of last night fill his mind. The screaming, the accusations, the crumble of yet another end of a relationship. He still can’t fully believe he stole Marvin’s car. If his tantrum didn’t get him thrown out this stunt certainly will. His heart aches at the loss of the only two people he could call friends. But that’s just what he does. He destroys, corrupts and kills the people he cares about. He takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left. And then he runs. He runs and runs and runs. 

He doesn’t even know where he’s going this time. A part of him wants to drive until the car is out of gas and then step into traffic, another part wants to find a bar and drink himself blind, but the biggest part of him, the stupidest part, just wants to go back west, back to LA. His home has probably been repossessed and sold by now, all those memories painted over by a new family. Do they even know what happened there? 

Doesn’t matter now. He can’t go back. He can’t ever go back. So where is he going now? Ridgescrest is just a few hours away, if he keeps driving he should be able to find a nice parking lot or cheap motel to sleep in. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to find somewhere to stay warm on a budget. 

His mind flashes back to the first time Stacy kicked him out. Thunder and lighting chased him away from his home, away from his children and his life. He drove past tens of fancy hotels he wished he could have afforded to stay at, but ended up sleeping in his car until Stacy permitted him to sleep in their bed. And now he’s fucked it up again. Good fucking job Chase.

The guilt of last night starts to creep up his soul, and a shiver runs down his spine, threatening to consume him once more. His stomach twists in knots as the smell of iron rises. The awful bitter taste of metal fills his mouth and tears start to run down his face. 

He wipes his face with the sleeve of Jackie’s hoodie he stole a few days ago. The car slows to a stop as he looks down at the soft red hoodie. A symbol of Jackie’s love and courage in every tear and Marvin’s patience and care with every sitch. He should go back. He needs to go back. He has to go back at least try and apologize, make things right. And if they reject him, at least he can say he tried. 

The small VW’s tires screech as it whips around on the empty freeway. His foot presses down on the gas letting the car zoom through the morning sun. His heart races alongside the car as a smile grows on his face. He’s not going to be a coward this time. He would go back and apologize, beg for forgiveness and do everything he can to make this right. He wasn’t going to quit this time. He pushes the car to its absolute limits. 90, 100, 110. The empty highway now becomes a race track as he goes home. He drove most of the night so if he really pushed it he could make it home before lunch. He’d see them again, he’ wouldn’t fuck this up, he was going to be okay.

“Stop the car.”  The whispers in mind echo in his ears. The sweet melody floods his senses.  “Now.” Chase’s feet have no choice but to obey the voice’s command, slamming on the breaks. The smell of burning rubber fills the air as the car squeals into a halt. The seat belt cuts into his collar leaving a small friction burn. His chest rises and falls in quick succession, his lungs grabbing on to every little bit of air they can get. 

His eyes dart to the rearview mirror, and the twisted version of himself stares back at him. The demon’s smile seems too wide, his bleeding gums and sharp teeth exposed to the world. His eyes encase the entire void within them. He can feel the static and harsh magic flying off it and landing on his soft delicate skin burrowing deep inside of him.

“No, no no no no no.” Chase’s voice trembles as he put all his willpower into pressing the gas. His feet feel like they’re chained down and tied to cinder blocks. His head fills with cotton as panic takes over. His hands are glued to the wheel turning his knuckles white from the lack of blood. Fight, flight and freeze all fight to take over his nervous system.  “Please.”

“Where have you been hiding, Chase?” The voice glitches and takes over all of Chase’s thoughts. The ALTR’s fingers wrap around his shoulders, pulling him back into the seat. Chase’s breath hitches as he squeezes his eyes tight.  

“Get out. Please. Please. I don’t want this.”  Chase whimpers, knowing his desperate pleas are falling on deaf ears. 

“Have you been hiding with Kitten and Red?” 

“Get out!!” Chase’s voice cracked as he screamed at the ALTR. Hot fearful tears fall from his face. “Get out! Now! Please! Please.” The ALTR shrugs and disappears from the back seat only to reappear next to him. His pleas are nothing to the demon. They always have been and always will be.

“Did my cat hide you?” Chase flinches as the cold hands of the demon grabs his face. The claws dig into his check letting the demon examine his face without care nor consent. His stomach twists and turns, letting this one second feel like an eternity.  “Should have skinned him when I had the chance.”

“Please, don’t-” Chase's words are cut off as Anti gives him a glare, its hand wrapped around his throat giving it a soft squeeze, before letting go. 

Chase’s body freezes as his eyes land on his vocal cords in the demon’s hands. Blood trickling down the demon's arms as his throat sits in the palm of his hand. His fingers fly to his neck, double checking that everything there was still intact. A small part of him finds relief when he feels his throat still in place. It was just a hallucination. Something to keep him in place. It wasn’t his turn to talk, and the demon wouldn’t want to hear meaningless wimpers. 

“His magic has gotten stronger since I last saw them. I can’t seem to get under your skin.” it says tilting Chase’s head side to side. Chase watches the demon examine his face, each glance each finger placement so meticulous almost as if he was trying to pry his skin away and just needed an opening. 

The puzzle pieces started to fall into place revealing the bigger picture. It can’t hurt him. Marvin protected him just like he promised. He can’t do anything. He’s safe. 

“No matter,” Anti says, releasing Chase from his grasp. “I have a new friend, he says hello.”

A polaroid photo glitches in between the ALTR’s fingers. Chase takes a deep breath, bringing together the last shreds of bravery he has and snatches the photo from the enemy.

A man. Another man he shares the same face with sits inside the photo. His hands make a signal Chase can’t understand, but his eyes, he understands these eyes. The helplessness and terror that fills them. Hollowed out eyes that once held life, now only held fear. Bloody red strings came from the man’s wrists catching the light as Chase turned it.  His dark red blood drips from his eyes and runs down his face like a river. His face is swollen and at the same time hallowed out.  

Is this what he would have become if this thing got him? A husk, a shell of his already awful self? If he was the man in the picture would anyone even care? His beating heart bleeds in sorrow for this complete stranger. Just a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have the energy or compassion to even spare him another glance, but now he can’t stop staring at him.

“Who is this? What have you done to him?!” Chase looks up but the demon is gone. It’s just him in the small car, alone on the side of the road. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Fuck! Chase thinks as he slams his hands against the steering wheel. His mind fills up with fighting and clashing thoughts filling his head up to the brim, threatening to burst his skull wide open.  He grips the wheel so tight his knuckles match the blinding white rage in mind. 

Fuck! Fucking shit! What am I supposed to do now?!  He wipes his face with the jacket. Right Jackie, he was going to go home. That should still be the plan. Get back home, get back to Jackie and Marvin. Tell them what happened. He takes in a deep breath, letting all the fear and confusion out as he exhales. Okay.  It will be fine. Marvin and Jackie will make it fine. It will be okay.

The next six hours are driving hell. His mind, body and soul all ache for a break. He turns for a break, to sleep and rest. But he refuses to stop, he needs to get home. But it was all worth it when he finally got to stop. 

He slams the mint green door shut, rattling the entire car. He doesn’t even check twice to see if he locked it, needing to get up to his friends. His own two feet betray him as he rushes up the stairs, causing him to miss step after step in his desperation. 

Hope and fear course through his veins as he runs towards the end of the hall. Passing door after door, story after story, family after family. And then he gets to his own. His own door, his own story, his own family.

Chase digs his finger into the doorbell, the sweet familiar chime rang through the halls. His thumbs rub against the corners of the photo the ALTR gave him. Every second is agony as he waits for the door to open. His gaze rises as the door’s hinges creak. And there he is. One of the only people who saw value in him. 

“Chase?” Jackie breaths 

Chase stumbles into Jackie’s arms, his sobs muffled by his friend’s shirt. He cries out in relief when Jackie returns the gesture, even resting their chin on his head. 

“Chase, where did you go?! Marv and I-we were so scared.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I ran. And I’m sorry. I run and I’m sorry. I didn’t-I don’t want to run anymore.” Chase says as he pulls away from Jackie. “And it was there. It found me, and it- Marv’s magic-it saved me.”

“What?! What do you mean?! Come inside, tell me everything.” Chase steps inside the warm apartment guided by Jackie’s hands.

“He was in the car. And he tried to possess me, but Marv’s magic saved me. And he gave me this.” Chase hands the photo over to Jackie pressing it into his palm. He watches Jackie’s eyes grow wide, so clearly trying to hide his panic, his distraught, but Chase knew those eyes. He knew the panic and fear that those blown pupils held. 

“Jackie?” 

“He has James?” Jackie’s voice shakes like a leaf in the wind stripped from his tree. His eyes don’t leave the picture in his hands. “He has Jamie…”

“Jackie, what’s wrong?” Chase grabs Jackie as the pair crumble to the ground. Fear consumes them both, eating them from the inside out. 

“He has Jameson…”

“Jackie, I need you to tell me who that is so I can help.”

Jackie doesn’t say anything, just pressing the picture to his chest and sobbing over the man. He shakes his head and wails. Chase glances around the room, trying to find something that will help. A blanket, a pillow, a- Chase’s eyes land on Jackie’s board and all the pieces start to click together. It was a friend. Possibly family. Holy shit. “Jackie, is Marv here? Where’s Marv?” Jackie gives a pathetic whimper and points to Marvin’s room giving Chase permission to leave.  

“Okay, I’ll be right back and stay right here.”

Chase gets up on shakey legs and bolts to Marvins room. A million thoughts run through his head as he throws open Marv’s door.

The little princess of the apartment slept soundly in his bed. Chase sat down on the edge, and started to run his hand up and down Marvin’s back. Just as he would do for his daughter. 

“Marv, hey Marvin.” Chase whispers as pulls his friend into consciousness. His green eyes slowly glide open, letting the flicker of recognition glide across them.  

“Hey,” he mumbles, still not fully awake “Chasy…”

“Hi, I know I was rude and I promise I'll apologize for that later but Jackie is having like a panic attack or something and I really need you to help calm him down.” Marvin sits up and runs his hand down his face, still clearly exhausted from the days events. He throws the covers over Chase’s lap with a small groan. 

“Shit, okay.” He whispers “Stay here, I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, thanks.”

It takes a few minutes for the wailing to stop. Hushed whispers that come from behind the door reminding him of his first day here. He wraps Marvin’s blankets around himself and lets out a breath. Holy shit. The sweet bliss of sleep burrowed into his head and begged to pull him down. Just lay down and close his eyes for even a moment. But he refused. He needed to apologize and make perfect amends. 

He waits and waits for the doorknob to turn, every second pure agony in his mind. He wants to go out there and comfort his friends. Wrap his arms around the two of them and never ever let go. Thank them for every sacrifice they made and promise to do everything he can to repair the trust he knows he broke. 

A little click of the door brought his attention back. A sigh came from Marvin as he sat down next to Chase placing his head on his shoulder. Chase pulled him close, this single action bringing tears into his eyes. He leans against him, sinking into his warmth.

“You look tired.” Marvin whispers, breaking the silence.

“So do you.” Chase mumbles back “But, I was driving all night, what’s your excuse?” 

“I was looking for you all night.” 

“All night?”

“All night.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean-Marv I’m-”

“I forgive you. Let's get some sleep and we can talk about it later okay?”

Chase nods and squeezes his friend tight. A simple four word sentence sits on his tongue. The vulnerability of these words dance across his lips just waiting to be spoken and brought into existence. 

“Marv I-” He starts “I-”

“We love you too Chaser.” 

——-

Anti neck lets out a loud crack as it breaks to the side. He examines the magical barrier the cat put up just outside the city limits. He hovers his fingers just above the spell, testing out just how far he can push the mage’s magic. The barrier lashes out scorching the demon. He pulls back and hisses out at the pain shooting up his arm. 

He’s not used to this. He needs his usual body back. His little flesh suit now just 3 miles away from where he was standing. Once the hero and the cat were out of the way, he’d have his perfect body back. The one that fits right, the one that doesn’t whine. And he’d be whole once more. 

And while this suit was fine, the size and lack of voice was becoming an issue. His entire essence was squeezed too tightly into this body, each part of him being pinched and contoured to fit into it. And the constant whining that came from the back of the mind filled his head with needless noise. 

No matter. The trap was set, all he needed was to kill a kid in a hoodie and small kitten. Then he’d be okay. He’d be free once more.

The feeling of eyes staring down on him snap him back to reality. He glances up at the sky watching the words come across the page. And then he sees you. He knows you’re there. He watches your cursor scrolling across the glass and the glow of the screen illuminates  your face, making you look hollowed. He smiles and tilts his head pressing his fingers against the words keeping him trapped in your screen. He puľ̵̝͇́             l̴̠̄s the text apart to get a better look at you.

He smiles as he looks at your eyes, the colors shifting between all the different watchers. He smiles just a bit too wide, amused that you're taking part in this story.  

“I know how this story ends.” He says ripping away from the useless body and allowing to fall empty to the ground. “Do you want to find out?”

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Happy OG comic release day! Remeber it has now been moved to December 4th! Can't wait to see you guys then!

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

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[Want more?]

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of IRIS CHPTR 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Chase stares into the shelves of produce, his eyes scanning every object but notfully comprehending what he was seeing. Rows and rows of colorful produce stare back at him. He groans and presses his head against the refrigerator door, letting the cool stainless steel soothe his forming headache. The thought of cooking dinner fills Chase’s chest up with dread. Recipes and random thoughts crawl over one another, battling to be the one that Chase’s full attention goes to.

It’s been a full three weeks since he “moved in” with Jackie and Marvin. It’s time he started pulling his weight, cooking, cleaning, things that should be super easy. But these simple tasks still feel like moving an actual mountain, maybe he isn’t ready for this. He grips the door’s handle with all his might trying to stop his hands from shaking like they were on a fault line. He knew that going sober was going to be hard, but at least the worst was behind him. The only benefit of the whole IRIS debacle was it kept him away from alcohol and started the road of sobriety. His head isn’t as foggy, and his skin was finally starting to clear up for the first time since his early twenties. While he still had the odd craving for the sweetness of being in a thick haze, blocking out any guilt and emptiness, he was starting to feel better. More whole. His hands still shake, and the brain fog can be so intense it would leave him bedridden, but it feels worth it.  Because everyday he is making his new friends proud. He is making Chole proud. 

“Hey, Chaser!” Jackie’s voice rings throughout the small apartment, ripping Chase’s attention from the produce. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Trying to make dinner but I can’t figure anything out.” 

“Oh, dude, it’s fine. Marv is gonna bring home some Italian place from that nice place down the street.”

“Oh, well, is there anything you need me to do?”

“Chase, it’s fine. I promise. You look tired man, why don’t you go lay down.”

“Jackie, I’m fine. And I’ve been living here rent free for almost a month now. You have feed me, bought me a whole new wardrobe, for fucks sake Jackie, you practically renovated your room for me! Let me do something.” “Alright, alright,” Jackie puts his hands up as he concedes the fight. “I have some files in the corner of the living room that I didn’t put away, why don’t you clean that up for me?” “Fiiiine.” Chase laughs, his headache having completely disappeares as he goes into the living room. 

The room was usually so clean the only word he could use to describe it was pristine, granted you have to ignore the blankets and pillows in random places, but other than that, not even a crumb could escape Marvin’s cleaning frenzies. But Marvin wasn’t here and Jackie made it today’s mission to completely redo his theory board. Well, Jackie preferres to call it his “superhero board”, but with all the string and newspaper clippings, and random placeholder photos, it looks like a crazy conspiracy theorist had gotten into their apartment.

Scraps of red yarn and remnants of newspaper clippings cluttered the corner of the room. Manila folders filled to the brim and ready to burst. Chase doesn’t even attempt to understand half of what was on the board. Faces he didn’t recognize, scientific terms that looked made up and cities he never heard of, litter the board. 

“Jackie, what even is all this?” Chase asks, his fingers brushing up against the newspaper clippings.  

“Oh, uh, I’m just tracking some people.” He calls out from the kitchen. 

Chase’s eyes scan the sections of the board. The first one is obvious, the demon. ALTR 114209. A static image of the red hallway sits right in the middle. Newspaper clippings, reports, transcripts and images stem from the portrait. Chase could feel his stomach twist and distort the longer he looked at it. 

The other two are a mystery to Chase. A placeholder image pinned in the middle of the board, and the name Jameson scrubbed just above it. Chase feels his heart ache at the clear desperation on the board. Pushpin holes decorate the top of each scrap of paper. IRIS reports that it looks like they’ll crumble if he touches them. Jackie’s notes are thrown up against the board, all asking where this person was.

If that section is full of love and concern, the last one is full of hate. Slashes and jagged cuts from the cutouts. Papers ripped and torn without care and thrown up onto the board. Pins in the faces of the scientist and fowl words scrawled across the articles. “IRIS scientists' son missing” the man’s eyes are full of false sorrow and pain. Chase knows the look of a broken man, and this isn’t it. His eyes hold a hint of sadism behind it all. Like he couldn’t care less, or even worse, that he was happy his son was gone. Chase feels the urge to call out to Jackie, to ask why this scientist was on his board, but his words are stuck in his throat. He has a feeling he already knew. He shakes off the disgusting feeling that has begun to crawl up his back, as he picks up the folders on the coffee table. 

“Where do you want these Jackie?” 

“Uh, fuck, where do I want those…um, just throw them in my room!”

Chase rolled his eyes as he smiled. Classic Jackie. 

“You gotta get like a bookshelf or a filing cabinet.”

“Hey, my system works!” 

“Barley!” Chase lets out a small chuckle as he opens the door to Jackie’s room. He begins to throw the folders on Jackie’s bed when he notices a familiar picture sticking out of one of the folders. He slides the folder out from the others, pulling it aside. His heart drops to his stomach, as he looks at the label. Every fiber of his being tells him to put it back with the others, pretending that he never saw it. But he has to know. His eyes scan over the document, skipping what little stuff he already knows, trying to find something that would fill in the gaps that are being withheld from him.

ALTR 114209 was subsequently freed by Dr.[redacted], letting the subject escape containment. We theorize that Dr.[redacted], was influenced by ALTR 114209. But until Dr. [redacted] reovers we will be unable to confirm.  The [redacted], that was used to contain ALTR 114209 was found scattered in said ALTR’s containment unit. 

Witnesses claim that ALTR 114209 was not fully formed, taking the image of a distorted green man, glitching heavily and erratically, a large gash in his neck and limbs phasing in and out of existence. Witnesses also claim that ALTR 114209 did not interact at all with employees or members of the CNC unit, instead going straight for the electrical cables.

ALTR 114209 will most likely use technology such as monitors, cables, telephone and electrical wires, to travel until it can find a proper host and/or vessel.  We will do our best to recontain the ALTR before it can attach itself to a host and/or vessel. 

Be on the lookout for-

Chase feels his entire body go numb as the folder slips out of his hands. His mind races as he tries to process all the information on that sheet of paper. He can feel his heart sink like a rock in the abyss that had become his life. 

“Holy shit.” Those are the only words in his broken mind he can manage. “Holy shit.”

 They let him go. They let him go. They let Stacy die. They let Chloe die! IRIS was to blame!  They could have done something, anything, but they let it go!

He wants to scream, to cry, to punch a hole in the wall over and over and over again until the drywall is embedded into his flesh, but he is just unmoving on the bed. He can’t breathe, he can’t blink, he’s as frozen and helpless as he was when that creature first arrived. 

He feels tears flow down his face, as the world starts to distort. He feels his mind start to leave his body, that familiar tingle beginning to crawl up his spine. He knows deep in his heart that this was him beginning to dissociate. That there is no way Anti can reach him here. But a part of him wishes the ALTR was here. He wishes the demon will take over his body and shove him into the depths of the void. Take his body someplace safe and quiet, before cutting and slicing into it. Letting the crimson red pain flow down his body, then let Chase clean the mess up once he was done using his body. 

Drink. I need-wheres my-I need-Drink. His mind yeared as his cravings hit him full force. Whiskey. Suntori. Where-I-I need it.  His hands pat the bed sheets, searching for the sweetness of his whiskey. It has to be here somewhere. It was always near his bed. Where is it?! Where is it?! Where is it?!

“Chase, hey, Marvin just came back, and-“ 

Chase looks up at the hero, words fight to reach his mouth, they clamber and reach over each other, desperate to be on his tongue. What does he say? Does he know?! Does he have the answer?

“Jackie,” He chokes out. “I-They,”

“Chase are you-“ Chase watches as Jackie’s eyes land on the folder on the floor. He can practically see the gears turning behind Jackie’s eyes “Oh…Chase why don’t we put that away and-“

“No. I-They killed them. They let it go. IRIS they-Jackie they-it-“ 

“Chase hey, I know, trust me, I know.”

“No the fuck you do not! You have no idea what that is like!” Chase screamed as he bolted up from the bed. “You didn’t-You didn’t have to kill your own child-and they-they could have prevented it! How many-How many people died because they let it go! Did you know about this?! Did you let it kill Chloe too?!” Chase’s index finger digs right at Jackie’s heart. He sees Jackie’s face contort into one of fear and sadness. Good. He needs this to hurt. He wants it to hurt.

“Chase, Chaser, hey, can you follow my breathing? Can you please help me help you?”

“No! I don’t want anymore of this bullshit! I don’t want-I don’t want you! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home and-and drink and I want to die!” 

Chase's chest heaves as he spat out the words. He can’t understand what he is saying, only that he was saying everything he needsto say to get everyone away from him. 

“Chase, hey, I know you don’t mean that,”

“Yes I do! You don’t know shit about me Jackie!”

“I know that people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

“Well, I want to die! I want to drink! I want-I want this pain to go away! And you-you aren’t going to be any help in accomplishing that goal, so you can fuck off! ” 

Chase shoves Jackie aside as he storms out of the room. To small, to small. This room , this apartment, did he even ever leave IRIS?! Did Jackie and Marvin work for them?! 

The world beomes gray and slow as he walks out of the room. He feels his hands wrap around a set of keys, snatching them from the kitchen table. Jackie’s screams sound like distant ambiance by the time they reach Chase’s ears. Marvin’s desperate grasp feels like nothing as he rips himself away. And even the door slamming shut is nothing more than a simple vibration, running down the hallway. 

Fuck Jackie. Fuck Marvin. Fuck IRIS. Fuck everything and everyone. 

But mostly, fuck him.