#sobbing shitting throwing up drawing this shit send help i burned like 4 things of vent art today

[pyromanicfool]

"Show me all of you"

NO NOT LIKE THAT.

FUCK this shit literally feels like my entire fucking life I'm screaming. Time for more Mizu catharsis until I maybe feel half human. I'll post my oneshot link I just finished in a bit too, super fun hurt/comfort but mostly angst bc Mizu can't fucking accept care unless half dead or worn down.

[43sparrows]

satisfied - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5 & Part 4

Warning: a rollercoaster from start to end

Word Count: 4,512

Note: Here it is. The final installment. I'm also impressed I've managed to pull off my own little goal which was to make each chapter longer as we go deeper and deeper into this relationship. It was fun to write, and I hope you stick with me for my next series

You've ignored four of his calls.

Well, technically, you've only ignored one, deleting the message from the answering machine after a short but brutal internal war. The other three times he's tried to get in touch with you were on the typical ripped out notes taped to your mirror. Each one was plucked down, scanned for words you didn't really expect to find (sorry, mistake, asshole), and then tossed into the waste bin.

You know that even as fucked up as your last encounter was, he deserves more--an explanation or at least a clean break--but you can't bring yourself to give him either. And you hate that about yourself. You hate it because you know why you can't do it, and the feeling that comes from this fact is worse than any of the ways Five's ever made you feel.

So, you don't call him. Instead, you work to erase the little traces of him you find in your apartment and in your thoughts until at last you're faced with something you can't just stick in the garbage: the man himself.

He's standing at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips and brow knit together. The look stops you dead in your tracks as you enter the room.

"You're avoiding me."

You feel like you're going to throw up. The thought briefly crosses your mind that if you do, you might get out of having this conversation. But instead you take a few more steps into the room and close the door behind you. When you face him again, you find his finger tapping at his waist. Your eyes remain on the finger instead of his face and you stay silent. This isn't an admission of guilt, but he seems to take it as one.

"Why?" he demands.

Objectively, you know the words. You're proficient in more than one language, so frankly you have more than enough words to use. But you can't seem to piece them together quite right, and so, no sound comes out. Instead you turn your gaze to your right and it lands on the candle on your bookshelf. The flame flickers, dancing in a breeze you can't feel yourself. You feel like there's a metaphor somewhere in there.

"Look--"

"Why would you do that to me, Five?" Your voice is soft, but the interruption effectively cuts him off. If you were looking, you'd imagine you'd see his eyes squint at you in frustrated confusion. His mouth would be slightly open, and you'd want to kiss it closed. So you can't face him. Your gaze stays fixated on the candle.

"Do what?"

You wet your lips as if that will help get out what you need to say. It doesn't work, but it does buy you a bit of time and makes the tension in the room that much more palpable. You wonder if that's what's guiding the flame through its movements.

"You brought me to Howl's just to fuck me in front of my ex."

Five's quiet now, and you chance a look at him from the corner of your eye. He doesn't look frustrated, but he does look like he's working a math problem and each time he comes to the end he gets a different solution.

He notices you're looking and tries to catch your eye, so you turn back to watch the candle burn it's way down the wick.

"You said you wanted something to shove in his face."

You don't remember saying that, but it's true. You did want something to shove in his face. But not like this. You shake your head at him.  "Not that." Your voice is both airy and tight, and it's not a good sign. "That wasn't anything worth shoving in his face."

"What?" There's heat in Five's voice now, and you can tell that something you've said has pushed a button. "He's working two jobs so he can get married to some boring elementary school teacher, and you're having mindblowing sex with the closest thing this city has to a goddamn superhero. Who came out on top there?"

"You," you say, simply.

"Me?" he repeats, and you finally find the strength to turn and face him. His eyebrows have shot up so high, you're surprised they're not touching his hairline.

"You're the one who got what they wanted out of that show Five. Because he's still happily getting married having been proven right that I'm nothing more than a call girl dumb enough to work for free."

Five narrows his eyes at you, and there's nothing confused about the look. Instead, he looks downright mean. You realize in that look, that he's missed the point completely. He's not listening to you. He's not seeing you. And you're starting to realize that he may not even want to. The realization hurts. It fucking hurts. Like you're being ripped apart from the inside. And the worst part is that you really should have known this.

Before he can get any words out, you beat him to the punch. It's the only way this argument was ever going to end.   "I can't do this anymore, Five."

The look shifts into one of incredulousness and then disgust and then stoniness. And then, without a word, he vanishes.

You feel like you've collapsed on the inside.

Apparently, you look like it too.

Your boss had taken one look at you and tried to send you back home. You'd told her that you were fine to work and made it half the day before she insisted you looked truly terrible and needed to go home. And maybe see a doctor.

Judging by the look on your roommate's face, you look even worse now that you've made it home.

"Are you alright?" she asks, peering up at you from the couch.

"Got sent home early," you mumble. It's not exactly an answer to her question, but you hope that it gets you out of having to talk anymore. It's not that you don't love your roommate. But you'd rather crawl in bed and stay there for a month if it meant that you didn't have to socialize with any humans in the meantime.

You successfully shuffle all the way into your room and drop your things next to your desk before the TV shuts off. Your roommate's footsteps echo throughout the apartment, and then there's silence and the feeling of someone hovering in the doorway behind you.

"I'm worried," she says, and you sigh, your shoulders dropping as you turn around.

"I'm fine."

She hums a no and gestures at your room.  You've let piles of dirty clothes take over most of the floor. There's about six different cups scattered on different surfaces, all with varying levels of water in them. Only one of the candles is lit. Her eyes find yours again, and you can't help but look away. "You've been locked in here all weekend. And most of last week too. I know he hasn't been by. He hasn't even called. What's up?"

You shrug helplessly, and the same way they do any time you think of Five, your eyes betray you and start to water.

"You don't know?" she presses, and you shake your head, looking off to the side, trying to get yourself under control. She walks into the bedroom then, coming around to sit on the edge of your bed and stare up at you. "Talk to me, Y/N. Seriously, I'm worried about you, and I don't know what to do."

"I--" your voice feels too thick, and you're having a hard time keeping it even as it comes out. "It's over." Your roommate's eyebrows draw down in sympathy as do the corners of her mouth.

"He ended it."

You shake your head and swallow. "I did." The pitch is too high now.

"Why?" your roommate's voice softens in response to yours, and it's then that you break, face crumpling, tears falling, and a broken sob escaping. She doesn't say anything more, instead rising from the bed and wrapping her arms around you from the side, leaning her head against your shoulder.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to stop crying. Then again, any time spent crying over a boy who you weren't dating and never made any promises in terms of feelings or commitments was embarrassing. But, when you do slow down, you finally find the words to tell her everything. What happened while she was away. Your trip to the bar and what you discovered. Your fight. She listens and doesn't say anything, instead doing the one thing that you need most from her: she doesn't let go.

You look less like shit.

But you still feel awful.

It's been just over a week since your fight with Five, and you feel like you should be over it by now. The disappointment, the embarrassment, the hurt. But you're not. Sure, you don't exactly feel like an open wound anymore. But you feel a bit like someone's just put a single layer of gauze on top, and that's not nearly enough.

So, you decide there's only one course of action that will make you feel better on this Saturday morning: Griddy's Doughnuts.

Just walking into the shop makes you feel lighter. The sweet smell of the different glazes and jellies wafts through the air, and kids are crammed up against the doughnut case and perched on stools with their parents. Walking into the place is like a time warp--it feels exactly the same way it did all those years ago when you were the kid tugging at her mom's hand.

And then you make accidental eye contact, and it all shatters. Because the brown eyes you're staring into belong to none other than Vanya Hargreeves.

You pull over to the side of the line to do the right thing and make brief small talk. If it hadn't been for two occasions where she'd come home sooner than planned, you wouldn't be in this situation. She wouldn't recognize you. But this girl's seen you half naked and spoken to you several times over the phone. She knows more of you than you wish she did. She probably feels the same way. Regardless of the willingness either of you have to engage in this conversation, she's coming over, bag of doughnuts and tray of coffee in hand.

"Y/N, hi," she greets, offering a nervous looking smile.

"Hi," Your own attempt at a smile is disastrous. It's too tight and it doesn't reach your eyes. It hardly even reaches your cheekbones. "Seems like we had the same idea for breakfast."

She nods, looking down at the bag in her hand. "Yeah. We have this family tradition to grab Griddy's whenever one of us--"  she stops then, seeming to remember who she's talking to and restarts with a safer question. "How are you?"

Vanya's voice sounds the way Griddy's smells--like nostalgia and comfort and it makes you ache inside. You want to know how her sentence was going to end, but you want out of this conversation more.

"I'm fine," It comes out more of an exhale than a word, and she seems to see right through it.

She nods, her smile taking on a sad quality. "You and Five both then. Guess we did get the same memo about Griddy's."

A silence seeps in between the two of you, and you hate the way this feels--like you're drowning in the middle of a swimming pool and trying not to call attention to it.

"I don't want to pry--" She must see you go rigid because she seems to decide on a different route. "I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry it didn't work out. I know you guys cared a lot about each other."

You don't know how to respond to that. You're not sure if you want to be the fool who fell in love with her friends with benefits or the slut who was just in it for phenomenal sex or the bitch who points out Vanya's brother is a heartless bastard and doesn't deserve doughnuts because he clearly never gave a damn. She must catch the crease between your eyebrows, your lips instinctively puckering into a qualification, because she saves you from responding.

"Look, I know Five can be...a lot. And I don't know what he did, but I can tell it was big and it wasn't good." She looks like she wants to reach out and touch you, but her hands--thankfully--are full. "But you should know, he checks the answering machine every day."

It stings. He still thinks you'll call.

And you almost have.

You can't look at her open and earnest face any longer, so you look down at the ground and nod dumbly. "Thanks." She stays in front of you, and you can feel that she wants to break the silence again.  You swallow hard and force yourself to meet her gaze once more. "Well, I don't want your coffees to get cold. It was nice to run into you, though, Vanya."

She nods, her mouth settling into a line. "Take care of yourself, ok?" she asks, and you lift your lips into half a smile because it's just about as much as you can manage. She nods once more and then turns and leaves the doughnut shop. You get in line.

Your roommate decides it's time for you to leave the house.

You point out that you leave the house almost every day.

She argues that leaving for work doesn't count. It's been two weeks and you need to have fun.

You insist that if you're going to have fun, it's not going to be on a Tuesday.

She informs you that there will be dollar tacos where she's going.

That's how you end up at Don Pablo's at eight o'clock on a Tuesday night with your roommate and two other friends all crowded around a table. It's hard to say what it is, the dollar tacos, the strong margaritas, the good company or the Spanish covers of pop songs, but whatever the reason, you're feeling lighter than you have. You're even laughing as your friend, Faith, updates you on the latest antics of the passive aggressive post-it queen at her work.

"That is...one hell of a story," someone to the right of your table says, and the eyes of the group look up to a lanky man with shoulder length brown hair. He's wearing a mesh crop top that sparkles a little under the light and leather pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, a fact that's captured Sam's attention.

The man pushes off from where he's leaning against the coat rack, and it's a testament to Faith's storytelling prowess that not a single one of you noticed him lurking there until this point. He motions for Faith to budge over, and the motion is so familiar and friendly that she scoots without protest.

"So," he says, resting his chin in both of his palms. "Which one of you radiant young ladies is Y/N?"

The words are objectively skeevy, but much like his admittance to the table, this earns nothing but a few snorts and smiles. He's also smiling like he's in on the joke, and it's genuine and sparkling rather than leering. You're half tempted to tell him, but your roommate stops you.

"Why?" Nasreen asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Because she's the one person who will save us from my brother's broody pining," he says with a faux pout.

Nasreen's eyebrows lift even higher. "Isn't it a little middle school of your brother to send you over here for him?"

He chuckles and lifts his head, shaking a finger at your roommate. She grins back at him. "Yes, it would be, but he very expressly told me not to come over here. I'm here looking for Y/N of my own free will." He glances around the table and steals a chip out of your basket, dipping it into the salsa. "Technically," he says, crunching down on the chip. "I'm risking my life for this."

Sam laughs and the man grins, reaching for another chip. "It's true. He said, and this is a direct quote, 'Klaus, if you go over there, I will drive this tiny umbrella through your eyeball until it hits that thing you call a brain and puts us all out of our misery.'" He pops the chip into his mouth and gives a dramatic eye roll. "Very eloquent, my brother."

Your friends laugh at this, even Nasreen, but you grow cold. Because you know one person with a brother named Klaus.

"So," Klaus bounces his shoulders once, sitting up straighter. "Who am I sacrificing myself for?" He looks around the table pleasantly just as Sam glances at you. It's a small motion, but Klaus latches onto it. "Ah," Klaus says gesturing toward you. "I'm going to need you to come fuck my brother."

Faith spits out her margarita. Sam barks out a sudden laugh. Nasreen blinks and draws back into the booth.

"I know he's an emotionally stunted little asshole, but he's been even more insufferable than usual, and Vanya says it's because of you." He drops his hand onto the table, relaxing back into the booth. "Obviously, he's the one at fault--you seem like an angel. But it would mean the world if you would come fix our little shitheel."

It's the name Vanya that brings Nasreen up to speed.

"I'm vetoing this right now," your roommate says, shaking her head. Klaus presses his hands together and points them at her.

"Your objection has been heard and noted, but let's hear from Y/N."

All of the eyes on the table are on you, and dollar tacos isn't enough to redeem this moment. You shake your head slowly. "No."

"No," Klaus repeats. He seems surprised.

"No, I'm tired of being fucked over so Five can feel better. No." Your roommate's approval radiates over you, strengthening the feeling. Faith and Sam straighten up at the mention of Five.

Klaus heaves a sigh and leans back to rest his head on the top of the booth's cushion. "I don't blame you, but I don't want to go back over there," he says to the ceiling. "Not only is he going to publicly murder me, but he'll probably drive me up this stucco painted wall with his moodiness before he does it." He lolls his head to turn to Faith. "Can I stay here with you?"

Faith laughs a little, looking at the rest of you.

"Depends," your roommate says, leaning on the table.

"On?" Klaus raises an eyebrow.

"If the next round is on you."

When you stumble into your apartment, it's a little past 1 am, and you're not so much as drunk as you are high on a good time. Allowing Klaus to stay at your table had been the best decision you'd made in the past...month? Maybe longer. Not only had he supplied you with enough good stories to take your mind far away from Five (whose gaze you could feel once you knew it was there) but Klaus had also pulled each of you up to salsa with him despite the fact that it wasn't a dance bar at all. Still, several other couples from different tables had followed his lead, and you'd allowed yourself to be spun and turned about until your legs were ready to collapse.

It's hard to imagine that anything can bring yourself down from this feeling as you place a kiss on your roommate's cheek and thank her for dragging you out.

Then again, you hardly imagined Five would be popping into your bedroom at 1:30 in the morning.

His hair is wild, eyes are hazy, and he looks more disheveled than you've ever seen him. "You were there. You were there and Klaus came over, and what the fuck?"

You've never heard so many nonsensical words come out of his mouth.

"Are you...drunk?" you ask, dumping your clothes at the door to your closet.

"Figured that one out," he says, gesturing flailingly at you.  "I got drunk because that's what you do when the one person in this world who doesn't make your life worse won't even look across a bar at you." He says.

You, for your part, remain silent, head tilted, trying to make sense of what's going on--how much of this is him and how much of it is the alcohol. Because you can't believe he's this upset--Five doesn't seem to do emotions other than stressed, horny, and smug.

He sways a bit. "You were right there. Right there. And you didn't even look at me. Not even when fuckin' Klaus went over."

"I didn't realize you cared that much," you say quietly.

Five scoffs. "Why else would I spend five days hunting down your ex just so you could get your closure."

You blink several times at this fact, but you don't have time to formulate some sort of response before he continues. "Do you know how many Jordan Millers there are in this city?"

"You--what?" The words come out as hardly more than a disbelieving whisper.

"Five days and perfect planning to get you there and have it all work out at just the right moment, only for you to end it. No reason. You just ended it."

You swallow hard and then fix him with a stare. Because he's right--he should at least have a reason. "I didn't end it because of Howl's." You pause, and he takes it as the end of the sentence because he continues on.

"I don't even know what happened. I keep trying to work it out. It's all I can fucking think about, and I can't figure it out. You wanted just sex, so I gave you just sex. You wanted to show up your ex, so I made sure you could show up your ex." His voice takes on a hysterical quality as he starts to pace the room. "What am I missing? Please, enlighten me. Because Vanya and Allison are up my ass about trying to fix things with you, and hell if I know where to begin."

"You can't fix this," you shake your head and then wet your lips, steeling yourself up for the most embarrassing truth. "I ended it because I wanted more, and you didn't."

He pauses and then lets out a manic laugh. "So you left because you wanted to be with me?"

"I left because I thought it was just sex to you, and that's all it would ever be."

"That's all it was supposed to be," he says, not stopping his pacing.  "That's what we both wanted."

"Wanted," you repeat, quietly. "Wants change."

He lets out a manic laugh. "Oh, I know that," he says and stalks closer to you. "Why else would I be here right now, still trying to figure out what you want so I can give it to you instead of fucking any of the girls who came up to me tonight?"

You blink a few times, and this has to be an exhaustion induced delusion, because there's no way he's saying what you think he's saying.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, quietly. He doesn't answer, instead closing the remainder of the distance, pulling your body flush against yours and kissing you.

He tastes like margaritas. His kiss is as intoxicating as the alcohol itself, the sensation rushing through your body and urging you to relax into him. He's only kissed you four times before, and all of those were different. In those kisses his hands ran over your body, pushing at your clothes, his frame walking you back towards the bed. But now he's solid, and his hands are still, a vice keeping you close to him as his lips remain on yours.

It takes an extraordinary strength of will to extract yourself from his kiss. "Don't do this," you whisper, your lips brushing his since he's chased after your kiss.

"Why?" he pulls you even closer, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"Because you don't mean this," you say, bringing your hands in between your bodies to push him away. "You're drunk and you're lonely and…"

"And I want you," he says, not moving, ducking his head to kiss you again.

"No you don't."

The words make him step back angrily. "I don't know how to make it any fucking clearer," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "I want you. I want you Y/N. I wish I didn't. I wish things would go back to being just sex. Because my life was so much easier then. But they can't. Not for you and not for me. You want more. I want you. So why won't you just accept that and let me kiss you?"

As far as romantic speeches go, it's pretty shitty.

"Fine," you say.

It's an equally shitty romantic response.

But then he's kissing you again, and you let yourself lean into the hope that maybe, come morning, he'll still mean what he said.

When you wake up, Five's gone.

The other side of the bed is tucked in tightly, like he was never even there. But you know he was. Because if he wasn't, there's no reason for your whole body to ache inside and out. It's tempting to stay in bed and throw yourself a mix of pity party and roast. After all, last night you exhibited top tier dumbassery.

But you're tired of feeling like shit. So you drag yourself out from under the covers and towards your door, hoping that some coffee and a warm breakfast will help you to feel better.

You pad out the door and down the short hallway to come out to the kitchen where your roommate is pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“My head hurts like a sonofabitch,” she says, reaching into the cabinet to grab down a mug for you. “You?”

You give a rueful smile and head over to stand next to her by the coffeepot. “Surprisingly, I’m ok. Better than yesterday.”

“Good,” she says, filling your mug up.

Your toilet flushes, and both you and your roommate look at each other. The silent question is answered not long after as there, appearing in the doorway, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and looking a bit disheveled, is Five.

It’s the first time your roommate has ever seen him.

“Uh…hello?” your roommate says, and Five nods at her, moving forward to steal your mug of coffee. He lifts it to his lips and takes a long sip.

“You’re…here,” you say dumbly, and he nods, drinking some more coffee.

“It’s where I want to be.”

Your roommate looks between the two of you. “And you are…”

“Five,” he says over his coffee, and your roommate looks between the two of you wildly before finally settling you with a significant look.

“You’re going to have to make more coffee, and explain all of this to me,” she says, circling a finger at Five.

You look at him, a small twist of a smile on your lips. “Fine with me.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 7 - Finale

Summary:

It all comes down to this. Will Frank be able to make things right?

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference, angst

Tag requests: @direwolfspostsrandomshit

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 5 | Chpt 6 Warnings: strong language, age difference, and references to depression like symptoms and past childhood trauma

Another hour passes. Another beer down.

The television drones on in the background while he stares right through it. Why is he even watching this? He hates TV.

He should be training today, maybe the gym or the firing range, but… He just doesn’t feel like it.

His stomach growls. He looks at the clock. He should get something to eat, but… He doesn’t feel like that either.

At last the cramping moves him to action, and sluggishly he gets up and wanders to the kitchen. He grabs his go-to as of late, a bag of chocolate chips for baking. His diet’s been such shit lately, and he knows it’s not helping. He hates that. And he loves it. Because right now he’ll do anything just to get even a flicker of feeling.

Good. Bad. He doesn’t care.

He just wants to feel.

It’s been a couple weeks since he last saw you, out back behind the CIA gym, and he’s been numb ever since. Mason’s been trying to bring him out of it all this time.

‘You did the right thing’, he says. ‘She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s doing’, and then, ‘If anything, you did her a favor. She doesn’t really want to get caught up like that with an old guy, right?’, he laughs.

He eats another handful of chocolate and looks down at himself. ‘She doesn’t want to...’ Is he really that repulsive? He runs a hand over his belly. It’s been feeling more rounded than usual.

Fuck.

For a moment, that same old burning, consuming flare of fury he’s so used to getting rises up. He grips the plastic bag so tightly, his knuckles turn white.

His discipline has been getting looser and his belt has been getting tighter, the polar fucking opposite of how things should be. His nostrils flare and lips draw back to reveal tightly clenched teeth, like a dog readying for an attack. Every muscle in his body tenses as he bores holes into nothing in particular. He starts to cock his arm back.

Throwing something will help him feel better.

Right?

He aims for the wall and winds up for an all star pitch, and then…

and then…

He can’t even muster the motivation for that.

As quickly as it came, the anger leaves, and as he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his entire body relaxes once more. What the fuck is wrong with him anyway?

What, mommy and daddy didn’t love him enough, so now he throws little tantrums whenever the fuck he feels like it? He mocks himself, feeling almost ashamed suddenly of all his outbursts, but when he thinks about it…

Yeah.

Maybe that...

He sighs, suddenly feeling extremely defeated and very alone. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised you left him. Everyone else who ever loved him did.

Woods drops the bag of chocolate from his limply hanging arm and watches the pieces scatter and roll all over the floor.

Whatever. He’ll eat something else.

This is how it’s been for weeks and this how it’ll be for the foreseeable future. He lazes around, completely numb to the outside world, grazing his pantry and doing anything to distract himself from his thoughts. If only any of it worked. Then at night he’ll lay awake well past midnight, until either regular exhaustion or exertion from shedding tears sends him to sleep.

But it wasn’t always like this.

After the first few days since he chased you off, he tried to make up for it.

He called.

He tried to see you at work.

He even sent you some fucking flowers and a letter.

Not a word back.

Well, aside from the ‘Get the fuck out of here, and don’t you fucking dare come back’ he got when he came to your office. After that one…

He hasn’t cried that hard over a woman in… Well… Ever.

And that’s what really gets to him, isn’t it? Just a woman. You’re just a fucking woman. There’s billions of others out there… And yet, he can’t manage to land even one, can he?

This message plays back in his mind over, and over, and over again.

Even now, as a slow stream of tears leak from his eyes to his pillowcase. He looks over just a few inches away to the empty half of his bed. Frank sniffs and swipes at his nose before gently plopping his hand on the pillow beside his. The fabric is icy cold against his skin.

You know, Alex told him once that he’ll lay in his wife's spot on the bed to warm up the sheets for her at night.

She hates the cold, and Alaskan nights are no joke. Would you like that? He wonders. He heard once that women are always fucking cold. He’d warm up your sheets for you, you know. Or maybe, you’d like a blanket? He’d get you one. A nice one! Fresh and new, not any of the tattered shit he keeps in his linen closet.

Or, maybe, you’d like it more if he just… Held you? He could keep you warm all by himself if you wanted him to. Would you even like him to?

Would that make you happy?

Would he make you happy?

A fresh round of tears breaks over him.

He closes his eyes and curls in on himself as he lets the sobs take over him. Damn it, he promised himself he wouldn’t do this again… He thinks about you far too much. All the time, really. And where does it get him? Somewhere about like he is now, he supposes.

He stews in his own wretchedness like this for quite some time, and it’s not until a few days later that anything changes.

Mason pounds on the door of the dingy little house, “Frank?”, he calls, “Frank, open up you bastard, I know you’re in there!”

Truthfully, he’s only in town on some work related business, but… He can’t just stand by and let his friend suffer like this.

So, he waits and waits, and pounds and pounds until he's sure the door is about to come off the hinges. Mason cups his hands to the crack of the door, shouting into it as loud as he dare, “I’m not leaving until you come out here asshole!”

At last, a quiet voice comes from the other side, “What do you want?”

For a moment, Mason is rather dumbfounded. Never before has he ever heard his friend sound so soulless. So… broken. He shakes his head, and pulls himself out of it, “Frank will you open up? I’m here to check on you man!”

Woods sighs, “Don’t waste your time”, the voice trails off as though he’s walking away.

“Hey!”, Mason pounds on the door again, “Son of a bitch, get back here!”

The door swings open abruptly, and Mason nearly falls over as the door’s taken out from him. He stumbles a moment, then catches himself as he stands up straight.

Mason locks eyes with his old friend, and Woods says nothing. Alex takes in the sight of him. His stubble is out of control, the bags under his eyes are dark and purple, and the undershirt he’s wearing could’ve used a wash about a week ago.

“Jesus…You look like shit”

“Thanks”, Woods replies flatly, “Now go away”

He makes to close the door, but Mason stops him, “Wait wait wait… Ok, I’m sorry, I just… Wow, um… Can I come in at least? Let’s talk about this”, Alex motions to Woods in his entirety.

“Do I have a choice?”

Mason pushes the door all the way open, letting himself in and taking his friend by the shoulders as he leads him further into the house, “No, we’re having a fucking intervention”

He leads him to the living room and clears a pile of clothes and trash off the cushions so they can sit down. Alex commands his friend to take a seat, then follows suit. Once they’re both settled, Mason grows serious but maintains a cautious, sympathetic veneer.

Mason rubs his hands together and gives it to him straight, “Look, I know you feel like you fucked up. I know you’re feeling lonely and it’s got you in the dumps. But… Come on man, look what’s been going on with you!”, He gestures to the living space around them.

Dirty laundry and neglected trash sit in little piles all around in a room that smells of old must with a faint, queasy scent of booze. “This is no way to live, buddy!”

Frank says nothing. Instead, he sits and listens without even attempting to make eye contact, like a child receiving a tiresome lecture.

Alex grits his teeth and tries to keep his temper in check. “So… What I’m trying to say is…. Maybe you need to get out of here, you know? Go to a game, take a vacation, something!”, he scoots a bit closer, taking on a more personal tone with his old friend, “I don’t want to see you destroy yourself like this Frank…”

Woods recoils at that, snapping to life as though he’d just now entered the conversation, “I’m not! I just… I need some time to get over this, alright!”

Mason casts an exaggeratedly doubtful look at the other man. Frank jumps to defend himself once more, but Alex cuts him off, “Ok ok! How about this, let’s you and me go out for a little bit huh? Have some beers, some guy time! I just want you to get out of this place for a little while, is that so bad?”

Frank grumbles a bit, but somewhere in there is an agreement. Mason cheers, "That's the spirit!", and drags his friend upstairs to clean up. He pushes him off to shave and shower before going downstairs to help himself to the kitchen.

It takes far longer than he anticipated, but Alex doesn’t go up to pressure the old Sargent even once. At last, the staircase creaks softly as Woods descends. He looks like a new man. Clean clothes, shaped up beard, and a gentle wafting of clean, musky shampoo emanating from him.

Woods walks up without much fanfare for himself, but Alex offers him a smile and a firm pat on the back, “There, now isn’t that better? You look great!”

Frank grunts and perhaps even mutters a thank you, but Mason is too busy trying to keep the momentum up. Once more, he drags his friend along and out to the car. The sun is starting to set and options for places to go are beginning to dwindle. Woods wonders where they’re going, and yet as the streets race by, he finds himself caring less and less.

By the time the car comes to a stop, he’s nearly fallen asleep.

Mason turns off the engine and shakes him awake, “Hey don’t fall asleep on me now, we’re just getting started!”

Woods snaps awake, but has to shield his eyes immediately. It seems impossibly bright out considering how late it is. He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes. Once they're fully adjusted, he finds that what he sees does nearly nothing to alleviate his confusion.

Before him stands the front of a pulsating night club. Blue and purple neon blaze in the dusky twilight. He can only imagine how they must look in the dead of night. A pounding beat comes from somewhere within, no doubt the drum track to some popular, modern song. Small clusters of younger people and a handful of adults hang around the doors pregaming for what they must be anticipating to be a long, wild night.

The pair get out of the car, but Woods is bewildered all the while. When Alex finally comes around to him, he can’t keep silent any longer, “What the fuck did you bring me here for?”

Mason seems almost taken aback, “For some fun? Come on, I know this isn’t really your scene but maybe that’s exactly what you need! Something new and fun, right?”, he doesn’t wait for a response, instead he pushes his friend along as they head towards the entrance.

The air seems thick and hazy around him, a fact only highlighted by the glowing miasma created by the neon interior. If Alex wasn’t pulling him along, he’s sure he’d get lost.

Alex takes him over to a table buried back in the corner. They take a seat and despite being right across from each other, Mason nearly has to shout to be heard over all the noise, “Want a drink?”

Woods thinks about it for a moment, still taking in the environment as he does so. He’s trying to find the bar, and when he does he figures it’s impossible to miss. A huge back wall of glass bottles, all lit up by a halo of purple neon and cool fluorescent lights stands bright as a beacon behind a solid bar top and array of stools and customers.

“Sure, I can get my own”

“Great! Hey, grab my usual would ya? I’m gonna take a leak real quick”, he points over his shoulder and excuses himself as he makes for the restrooms.

This… is not at all what he wanted.

Suddenly, Woods feels trapped and alone again, no better than he was back in his own home. Except now he’s surrounded by the heat, noise, and stench of over a hundred other people.

The lights feel heavy and blinding, the pulsating pop music, deafening. He trudges up to the bar slowly yet surely, but with every step he comes closer to committing to his plan of escaping back to Alex’s car.

He never should’ve went along with this… he was just fine at home, damn it.

Lost in his thoughts and half blinded by the smoke and lights, he runs smack into another person. With a dampened thud, they hit the ground hard. Wood swears under his breath and figures he can at least offer a hand. He bends down to help up the fallen individual, only to see…

You.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the haze and fog has cleared from his eyes. He can see you clear as day down here, and the noise and smells of the crowd all fade away. A soft blue glow highlights your features, and an electric magenta bounces off your hair. The sparkling, sequined little dress you wear glitters in the halo of light descending around you, and a thousand flecks of light reflect back onto his worn, tired face.

Woods' hand hangs in mid air, half way through it’s journey to assist you. He whispers your name, quietly and fondly, as though he never thought he’d see you again.

For the first time in what must have been days, a smile breaks free from his stern glower.

But all you see is the asshole who teased you along for weeks, only to give you the highest embarrassment by sending you off like a misbehaving child after you were at your most vulnerable with him.

You were ready to give him your very body, and he only felt up what he wanted and sent you off.

With a sneer, you slap his hand away and hop up on your own. You don’t even bother to spare him a word. Instead, you stare daggers into him and walk off.

For a moment. For a second time… He watches you go.

He should let you walk away.

After what he did, you deserve at least the privacy. And that’s aside from the fact that you’re clearly pissed.

But he can’t. Not again.

“Hey, wait!”, he dashes after you, shoving his way through the crowd. A little too roughly, he grabs your upper arm and spins you around. You yank yourself free from his grip and glare right through him. Even through all the rage…

You look so beautiful in this light.

“I… I- uh. Hey”

“Hey?”, your blood is boiling. Is that all he has to say for himself?

The venom in your voice makes him recoil, shrinking back into himself. But still… “I uh, I just… H-how are you… I didn’t think you’d be in a place like this, heh…”

Out of pure manners, you respond, “Fine. What are you doing here?”, you cross your arms, defensive, but genuinely curious.

Woods looks over his shoulder then all round, searching for any sign of Mason. Nothing. He snaps his attention back to you, trying to come up with any reason at all to explain himself. Frank stutters for an answer, but you end your indulgent lapse before he can say anything coherent and turn to walk away.

“Wait! I… I-I miss you...”

You whip around, seething with anger. Then, very seriously, you ask, “Are you following me?”

“What? No! Fuck no! I just… I miss you, that’s all!”

You scoff, “Well maybe you should’ve fucking thought of that first”

“...You’re right”

That stops you dead. This is nothing like the Woods you know… You can’t recall a single time he’s had the humility, let alone the balls, to admit that he’s wrong.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…”, he sighs, and even in the darkness of the club you can see a glimpse of just how much pain he’s in, “Look… I shouldn’t have done that, back there behind the gym. You trusted me and I fucked it up. I know. It’s just… I was scared”

A biting edge creeps back into your voice. You don’t buy that. “Scared? Of what, getting caught?”

“What? No! I was scared… that I was taking advantage of you, alright?”

You blink, and suddenly all the rage leaves you, as though the hot air was deflated right out of you. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well I mean… You know… Y-you’re just a kid, and I’m… not. I just- It didn’t feel right. Hell, I didn’t even get a chance to ask if you really wanted all that, I just… went for it”

You take a little step closer, your hard gaze softening just a touch, “Well… It’s not like I was saying no”, you chuckle

“Yeah, but that’s not the fucking same, you know?”

You look away, “Yeah…”

“So… Anyway… I’m sorry, alright?”

At last, you turn back and smile at him, “Alright. I forgive you, and… thanks. For saying that”

Woods nods and accepts your thanks. The two of you share a little smile and a short pause of uncertain silence until he breaks the silence, “So… What now?”

You look him up and down. He’s wearing jeans and a tightly fitting flannel, a stark contrast to all the trendy, flashy fashion of the rest of the clubbers, and yet it’s so… him. You trace a finger down his limp, tattooed arm, stopping at his fingers to intertwine them with yours.

“How about a dance?”, you tug his hand gently, then nod towards the dance floor.

A feeling like euphoria washes over him, and time seems slow as he floats along while you tug him through the crowd. Somewhere in the beautiful, prismatic show of lights, he hears himself agree. You lead him to a cramped, but vacant spot on the glowing dance floor and turn an ear to the music, “Hey, I love this song…”

Woods perks up to listen, just in time to catch the start of More Than A Woman, muffled slightly by all the noise and bustle of the crowd.

It’s like it’s playing from within a dream.

You rest your hands on his chest, letting them slide down so that the heels of your palms sit where the curve of his stomach begins to swell out. Frank has his hands on your waist, swaying in time with you slowly to the music. He clears his throat and looks away from your sparkling, gorgeous eyes, a nervous blush creeping up his neck.

He knows you’ve been over this before, but… “Yeah, uh… so, you know, I’ve been thinking I should lose some weight... You know, while you’ve been… gone”, he moves your hands up from his belly to clasp behind his neck.

You quirk up your brow, a confused smile on your lips, “Why?”

“Uh, I don’t know… I think it makes me look old, I guess”

You laugh and come a little closer, your bodies nearly touching, “Well, if it means anything... I don’t think so”, You inch up and kiss his cheek, bringing one hand down to rest on his softened pect. He huffs a nervous laugh and masks the flattered embarrassment with a timid smile as he covers your hand with his, holding it there just a little while more.

He's never forgotten how amazing your touch alone feels.

He clears his throat and re-establishes eye contact. A whole kaleidoscope of color plays inside your eyes. He could get lost in them for the rest of his life. “You uh… wow. You- you look beautiful tonight...”, he steals a quick glance as your little, sparkly dress and the neon rainbow refracting off the thousands of tiny sequins, “Nearly gave this old man a heart attack when I first saw you”, he laughs.

“Oh?”, you smirk and lead him into a turn, “ In that case, you should see me take it off”

His heart pounds underneath your palm, but his face looks frozen with surprise. He doesn’t hear women say that kind of stuff to him often…

“D-do you… Do you mean that?”

“Well, I mean… Maybe after this, I’d love t-”

“No, not that. I mean… Me. D-do you really feel that way about me?”

You stop dancing for a moment.

His words cut deeply with the quiver of hope they carry, as though it had never crossed his mind that someone would want to be with him.

“Of course I do. But… I want you more then just for that you know”, you chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, “Oh. Damn, so you like that kind of st-?”

You place a single finger to his lips, shushing him. “I meant… I love you”

Your words echo back to him in slow motion, as though reality and time itself are breaking all around him to unveil a haven of euphoria. His heart is beating in his ears, and yet it sounds slow and calm, just like the wild crowd and the blaring music all around him.

Everything grows quieter and softer until it all fades away, leaving behind just you and him.

He wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he heard those words, only to come up empty handed. It’s been so long… He can’t even remember.

Frank looks back at you, a little neon angel clinging to his beat up old shirt. Gorgeous. That’s all he can think of when he sees you. He almost feels like he shouldn't even have the privilege to do so. You bat long lashes up at him and a slow smile draws across your soft, glossy lips.

More than a woman…

Slowly, you come up to meet your lips to his. You’ve kissed before, but this… It feels like the first kiss of his entire life.

He presses back gently, sucking softly as he draws you close. You smell like dark cherry and amber, some combination of perfume and lip gloss. The faint smell of whisky and musk radiating off of him mingles with the divine scent of you.

He can taste it all on his tongue, even as he slides it over to flick across yours.

More than a woman to me…

At long last you part, breathing softly as your eyes drift up to meet one another's. And when he looks down into those deep, glittering pools, he wonders how he never saw all the love and warmth they hold for him. The love they always had.

“I love you too…”, he whispers, tears stinging at his eyes and voice, before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

And now? The love they always will.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Orange Colored Sky (OMTWY Part Two)

Note: Overused passing-out trope, anyone? Apologies. I hope everyone’s enjoying Fallout 4 February so far, any feedback would be appreciated!

TW: Death, blood, and violence. Injured child (burns). Be careful!

Prompt: Orange Colored Sky by Nat “King” Cole

Day: 4

Word Count: 2202

Smoke had filled the air, leaving ash scattered throughout the once pristine halls of the Institute. Amongst the gunfire and shouts of alarm, the crackling flames and the falling debris, Sole could hear the winding glass pathways creaking under the stress of the heat. Sweat was beading on their forehead, creating a thin layer between them and their armor, and their breath was coming in short, borderline choking gasps as smoke filled the air.

Something had gone wrong in the communication with the Railroad and Minutemen, and one of the charges had been set off early before someone could catch the error. Half of the science wing had been turned to dust, a large crater replacing what had once been towering and expansive, a pillar of achievement. Sole had barely dodged the flying glass and metal as they attempted to usher synths out of the area, and X6-88 had vanished into the atrium right before the blast went off.

With a moment's breath to pause and send all of their wishes of safety to X6, they began picking themself up off the cracking ground, looking around to make sure the people they were leading were okay. Charred pieces of the plastic foliage scattered through the air, floating down like smoking bits of confetti. What a celebration, Sole thought to themself sarcastically as they readied their weapon to fire at a charging gen-one synth. Their bullets hit the mark, despite the shaking in their hands, and they thanked the training Deacon had put them through.

They slipped the group of synths through the chaos with little hesitation. Fortunately, they’d had the foresight to steal a worker’s uniform off one of the dead Institute members, so unless someone looked at them closely like the last synth did, they blended right in. For all the others knew, they were an Institute employee fleeing the ruckus with a group of loyal synths. They tugged their helmet lower on their head to hide their face better as they kept running.

Despite the rumbling of the imminent collapse, the maintenance halls behind the inner walls muffled the sound of everything going downhill. Soundproofing, maybe? God knows what the Institute did that for, not that it mattered for long. The back halls were mostly deserted; they knew that at least one of the entrances had caved in, and they were so hard to get to that most had probably already died getting anywhere near them.

They paused by the doorway to the room that housed the teleporter and waved the group in, counting in their head to make sure no one had been left behind. The last synth paused and gripped their upper arms, desperate and wheezing. “Please…”

Sole reached out to hoist them upwards as they began falling to their knees, probably from a lack of oxygen. “What’s wrong?” They asked, tone urgent.

“Abigail. She’s a new synth, nine years old. She has no idea what’s happening. They left her in the atrium, I don’t know where she’s gone!”

Sole heaved out a breath and paused to steady themself, eyes closed momentarily. Even if they were synths, they were family, and they had to do right by them. With a firm nod, they ushered the synth towards the portal and steeled themself to go rushing back into the chaos. Somewhere in the back of their mind they heard X6 screaming at them to get out of there, that they couldn’t do any more if they were dead. Good thing he wasn’t there to stop him. After a moment to embrace the silence, they took off again like hell itself was right behind them. Perhaps it was.

The way back out of the maintenance halls was painfully easy, a deceptive route back into the shitshow that awaited them. Their boots echoed as they pounded against the barely-tainted floors; they left footprints of ash and blood in their wake as they charged through the empty area. With their build up of speed, it was difficult to skid to a stop when they were faced with piles of rubble where the exit should’ve been.

That was the only way out or in. Sole cursed, a loud “Shit!” that echoed off the walls, nearly drowned out by the sounds of gunfire they could hear on the other side of the newly-formed wall. They stepped forward and began examining the situation, prying their fingers under pieces of rock and support beams to see if they could find any leverage. Precious minutes ticked by in the back of their mind as they jammed their fingers in different cracks and crevices with no luck. After a few more seconds than they appreciated were lost, they finally felt something come loose.

Internally throwing as much energy as they could at praying the pieces of wall wouldn’t come tumbling down on them, they pulled as hard as they could, grunting from the strain of the weight. At first, nothing happened. Then everything came crashing down in front of them, leaving a cloud of dust and debris to join the mixture of smoke and ash. A harsh cough burned their lungs, and they leaned over, hands on their knees as they tried to eject the unwelcome particles with hacking gasps.

Their lungs, their throat, their nose, and their muscles all burned from the exertion of the fight; hell, the world was burning, or so it seemed from the flames that had now spread so heavily that it was difficult to see any farther than a few feet in front of them. They wished they’d been more grateful for clean-ish air when they had it and kept moving.

By some miracle the stairs to the higher levels of the structure weren’t completely blocked, just provided an oh-so-needed extra challenge of leaving obstacles in their path. They leapt over chunks of walls and climbed over steel beams that had fallen into the walkway, ducked under large supports, and skidded in pools of blood, shining red under the knocked-loose and now dangling fluorescent lights. 

Despite the fact that they initially believed the smoke couldn’t get any worse, the higher they climbed, the thicker and more persistent it became. As always, the wasteland came through to prove them wrong. Cursing yet again, they reached the landing and pressed their elbow over their nose, struggling to even cough. Their eyes stung and watered.

Down the hall something glinted near the floor, shining like a beacon; it wasn’t blood, for once. Maybe it was who they were looking for, or maybe it was someone else who needed help. With that thought in mind, they hurried down the hall and kneeled down to get a better look. It was an arm, with a watch latched firmly around the person’s wrist. A chunk of the wall had come crumbling down on top of them, pinning them to the ground and likely killing them instantly. Maybe it was selfish and rude, but they were grateful it belonged to an adult, wished them peace, and got to their feet to keep looking.

When they got up and redirected their attention to eye-level they lifted their gun before they even registered what they were doing. Just down the hall was a shadow, outlined by smoke and barely visible amongst the shifting light. Too short to be an enemy; they rushed forward. “Sweetheart! Hey, I’m here-” They were interrupted by a coughing fit at the sting of smoke flooding their lungs yet again. “Here to help!”

The child stumbled towards them, pressing their hands to their face. “Abigail?” They called out again.

“That’s me!” She responded, her voice a shrill, terrified cry, broken by sobs.. “Help! Please!”

Sole scooped Abigail up before the child could draw another choking breath and swivelled on their heels, headed back down the stairs with a harsh gasp of air. The smoke was definitely getting worse; they were working on a ticking clock and the smoke was just reinforcing that for Sole. They made it down the stairs in record time and were rushing across the atrium floor, dodging what tumbled down from the walls and the shattering glass, when something slammed into the back of their head and they went down in an instant, Abigail leaving their grasp with a cry. Shortly after, their vision went black.

There were no words needed for X6-88 to part the crowd; the emotion on his face and the knowledge of those around that he was there for Sole was more than enough. When he reached the cleared area, they were propped up against a part of the building, an oxygen mask pressed against their face by Curie’s small hand. She was smoothing the hair away from their face, as reliable as always when it came to taking care of them when he couldn’t. 

The sting in his knees didn’t register when he fell to kneel in front of them. They were covered in soot and sweat, the only clean space on their forehead being where the helmet had sat. He couldn’t stand to see them in the Institute uniform; something tainted on someone who had saved him. His hands were shaking as he struggled to move forward, or maybe the world was just a little unsteady.

Carefully, as if one wrong move may break them, he forced himself into action. Curie smiled at him gently and moved her arms to support Sole’s back, sitting them up a little further. He moved between them and the cold building and leaned them back against his chest. X6-88 took a deep breath to steady his trembling and reached up to take the mask from Curie’s hands. He held it against their face as still as he could and shifted his head to press a kiss against their temple. “They should be awake soon, I think. Their levels are returning to normal.” Curie spoke softly, not wanting to disturb any peace. 

X6 didn’t look up at her, and instead nodded, his eyes fixated on the rising and falling of Sole’s chest, terrified that if he looked away for a moment it’d stop. Superstition and chance was never his thing until he met Sole. He ran a hand up their arm and hesitated.

Being together while working with the Institute wasn’t exactly something that came easy. Saying “I love you” was never an option. If someone overheard or checked security tapes for some reason and found out, X6 was as good as dead, and Sole’s cover was blown. No, instead, they were clever enough to tap his arm or shoulder when they would jokingly throw an arm around him, pretending as if they were playing along with the way the scientists would joke about how he was so serious, despite the fact that it was something they had programmed into him.

And then the bird began figuring a way out of his cage, lost his stone-cold edge, and Sole began to say I love you in their own little way. Morse code. Pressed into his skin at all angles, tapped against his back in the middle of a combat situation, dotted over his shoulders and spine in the middle of a meeting with scientists. Over and over again, they said it without opening their mouth. He’d never gotten the courage to say it back until that moment, and he was terrified it was too late, shaking and full of regret.

Their breath stuttered for a moment and he held his own despite the burn that lingered from the smoke that had worked its way into his lungs. They shifted, twisting their head to the side as if trying to hide from the light of the sun overhead, and pressed themself further into his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief at a sign of them becoming conscious. Once they paused their movement, he paused, too. Then, tapped against the skin of their arm from where Curie had cut off their sleeve to place a monitor, I love you, pressed into them for the first time by his fingerprints.

Another pause. The world seemed fond of stopping time as of late when it was all too inconvenient. Then, against the middle of his thigh where their hand had fallen limp, I love you. He gasped out another breath and squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears that streaked down his face, no doubt leaving a path through the ash. He pressed another kiss against their temple, and then another against their cheek. 

They shifted in his arms and tipped their head back, blinking blearily as they looked up at him. It seemed difficult, the way Sole struggled to lift their arm and brushed an unsteady hand against his cheekbone, gaze filled with wonder, as if he were the only thing they wanted to look at for the rest of their days. 

Somewhere he found the strength to pull them even closer against him, practically cradling them as he rested their head against his shoulder and kissed their cheekbone again. This earned him a dazed smile. “It’s over.” He murmured, lips brushing against their skin as he spoke. “We’re free.” Their smile grew and he choked out a relieved sob. They were free, the sky lit up orange from the fiery remains of their cage.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 4

The boys try to relax after meeting Dark, but Dapper is ticked off at Anti and there is still tension between Trickshot and Dok.

Tws for alcohol, images of dead bodies, and mentions of torture.

Part 4 - Dark's Memory

“Oh, but Dok, I’m tiredddddd.”

He draws it out like a kid who doesn’t want to do his chores, slipping down into the water until it reaches up to his chin, pouting against the waves of the pool. Dok grins at him and reaches out to snag his hand, leading him around in circles against the wall.

“Come on, my friend. Can’t be sitting around all day even if you’re tired.”

“Help me float?” asks Blue, getting up again and turning his back to Dok.

“Okay, if you want.”

He puts his hand against Blue’s back. Blue lies down against the water and lets Dok steady him, til he’s just resting on the surface of the water, drifting.

“No sleeping though,” says Dok, and Blue laughs. They both wear their shirts in the water. Dok itches at his chest. Through the kitchen window, you can see Trick cooking, and Red sits a few feet away from them, watching the forest and tap-tap-tapping his foot. Dok told him he should do something other than stand guard all day, but he hasn’t thought of anything yet.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! How are you all doing?

Red looks up and smiles at you. “Aw, been better, but you know. It’s okay.”

He glances over at Dok and Blue. “Getting really worried about Blue after how he was acting last night, but sun comes up and he wakes up and seems okay again. A little nausea this morning. I asked him if he was pregnant. He said that would be more fun than this.”

Red grins and kicks his feet. “He’s grumpy about it, but I just hope he keeps trying to stay up. I don’t blame him for being unhappy. I think, um. He really needs more help than he’s getting. But I don’t know how to get him it. Which is frustrating. I’m not really in charge right now, but I’m still big brother. I’m supposed to be looking after them. And I can’t.”

He shrugs. “But I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep the monster away if I can.”

He still has that kitchen knife, sitting on the grass beside him. He itches at the bandaid on his broken nose.

“How are you?”

Anonymous asked: Whatcha cooking, trick? Breakfast?

“Lunch, technically!”

He stirs enthusiastically at a pan full of ground beef, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and peas. “Making kima. Trying to use the perishables first. So we don’t have to get hungry just cause all the food goes bad. The fridge is really full! Hey, do you know what prosciutto is? There’s a ton in there, but I don’t wanna give Dok ham.”

Anonymous asked: (Chill scenes are totally cool! And I love reading anything you write so it's awesome) But hey! Pool time sounds like it could be fun and/or relaxing. And it could be good for Blue's (or any of yalls) health. -Pink

“Just don’t tell Dap we’re outside,” sighs Blue, standing up and running his hands through his hair. After a few weeks since he shaved it down to white, it’s beginning to grow out again, just a little, and he savors the growing strands. “He won’t stop talking about that thing in our yard. He says he won’t come into the house’s territory, but he wanted us to spend all day hiding. But we figured it already knows we’re here.”

He shrugs and looks back at Dok just in time to get splashed in the face by a sweep of Dok’s arm through the water. He gasps and slaps the water in front of him, sending it spraying up into Dok’s face. He laughs and retreats, cutting water with his hands as he backs away.

“Ass,” gripes Blue, smiling as he follows after him.

Anonymous asked: where is dap, if you don't mind me asking? is he upstairs?

“No, he’s hiding from Anti,” says Dok. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Anti’s so pissed at him he only looked for him once,” adds Blue. “He found him in the top cupboard of the pantry behind the juice-boxes and tried to drag him back upstairs, but Dapper wouldn’t stop throwing a fit, and Anti got so irritated he left before - to quote Anti - he pulled him apart tooth by tooth. You might be able to find him on the cameras if you try since Anti’s stopped coming for him. I hope that he’ll come when Trick has lunch. He eats like a shrew. A dieting shrew.”

“I need to have him out here exercising too,” sighs Dok. “He never get out of his little room most of the time.”

Anonymous asked: It's basically fancy italian ham, so says Google. Maybe Noodle and the rest of you would like it but yeah not the best choice for dok

“Noodle! Come here, baby!”

Trick kisses for his cat til he comes and gets him a slice of prosciutto. Noodle is delighted.

“You’re getting so big,” says Trick, petting his back. He’s a very long cat and getting longer, leggy and thin, still golden as the day he was born.

Anonymous asked: Red maybe you should take up drawing or coloring, just something to do with your hands. I know you have a lot worrying you but maybe it will help you de-stress and focus? I find it helps me anyway. A hobby might be good for you right now

Red nods, considering it. Yeah. He stands up. Sits down again. Stands up. Sits down.

He puts his chin in his hand and sighs, kicking at the grass.

“I haven’t… I don’t really have hobbies, ha. Usually I’m the one with the money for the month, you know, so I have to be thinking about food and entertainment and shit in one handful of cash. And when I do get entertainment stuff, it’s for Dap cause he’s alone in his room, or sometimes for the twins if Dok’s having to cut people up or Trick’s depressed and they need something to take their minds off it. Cause that’s what it is, yeah? Entertainment, it’s a need. In those cases at least. And if it’s not a need I don’t get it. That’s the rule. That’s how you stop your brothers from starving.”

He stands up again, staring out at the forest. “But now I guess I can go draw if I want, and it won’t be wrong. Cause it would have been wrong, yeah? To buy paper and pencils for myself. Dapper would need them more or we would need shit to eat more. And now we’re in this nice place after Dap and I about starved in Colombia and I’m just supposed to act like this is our normal and to do whatever I want. I don’t know how to do whatever I want. And I don’t want… I don’t want Anti to pretend this is our normal. Cause it isn’t. I been hungry too many times to let him try to tell me that.”

He pauses, shrugging. “Sorry, I went off. I do want to go find something to do. I wish I had something to color, that sounds fun. I could go look for books or something with black and white pictures. And art shit. I don’t know if there’s any here.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dap? how are you doing?

For a second, there is no sign of him - or not of him moving, anyway. He seems to have shucked off everything he didn’t want to wear as he ran, his tight black dress shoes discarded in the hallway, his clean white dress shirt dangling off the coat hook. There are cuff-links waiting to be stepped on. He may or may not be wearing pants.

But in the office with the grand brown desk and the high, glass-covered shelf full of alcohol in progressively fancy bottles, a slight motion alerts you to an irritated, red-rimmed eye peering slowly out from the side of the desk to check on the beeping noise from the camera - and then, just as quickly, ducking out of sight again.

Anonymous asked: hello, dap! is something wrong?

Liquid sloshes. Dapper glances back at you again, his mouth miserably down-turned and his eyes angry. He hides away again for a few minutes. He’s sick of Anti looking at him all the time.

“I hate Dark,” he spits finally, adjusting a little so you can see him. He’s got a blanket on and all his stuffed animals arranged beneath it around his legs. His pencils are scattered beneath the desk, his sketchpad covered in meaningless circles of colors he can’t tell the difference between. He throws back a bottle of Jameson and drinks deep and hateful. “I hate Anti for bringing us here. I want him to go away!” He coughs as the whiskey burns.

Anonymous asked: Ah... why are your clothes on the floor Dap?

“I don’t want to wear all this stupid shit he puts me in,” he signs. “I don’t want to be cute and perfect, I’m not his perfect little pet thing, not his dog to dress up in a tutu, not cute all the time, sometimes I want to be a man, or I at least want him to know I’m a man, not treat me like a little boy. I only want to dress up when I want to dress up and I don’t want any more stupid little kid hoodies or dumb socks unless I pick the dumb socks. I, I, me!”

He shakes his head, distress creasing through his anger, and he drinks like he’s got something to prove, his face red with crying and alcohol.

“Stupid baby stuck in my fucking crib all day.”

He sobs and then strikes the side of the desk, gritting his teeth. “Stupid little boy never runs from his dad.”

Anonymous asked: anti's not here right now, though. do you want to go be with your brothers for the time being? anti isn't here to be able to do anything to any of you.

“He shouted at me all morning, he’s angry,” grouses Dapper, flicking his golden Christmas knife up and down in his hand. “He said he’ll tie me up upside down until the blood rushes back into my head and makes me stop acting stupid; I said if he tries to make me stay in that room again I’ll bite his ear off in his sleep; he slapped me til I cried.”

His ear is bruised purple on the right and there are nail marks around his wrists. He shivers and curls in on himself, bitter and tired, scratching at a hippo stuffie with textured fur.

“I don’t want to go where everybody’s staring at me, I don’t want to go where Dark can see me, I don’t want to…”

Anonymous asked: Huh boy. Would you mind some drinking buddies? We don't have booze but I can act like a conversational bartender that takes all your problems and sound then into advice. Can't guarantee it'll fix things but we're listening

“That was most of my rant unless you get me started again,” says Dapper wearily, slumping back against the desk so his head disappears and you just see his skinny chest and legs poking out. The thought of it is funny and you hear him giggle, flipping over on his side to hide his face in his blankets.

“I’m sad. Comfort me, Panchito.”

He draws his stuffed Peruvian bear to his mouth for a kiss. It’s hard to tell if that’s his dry sarcasm again or not. He might just be drunk.

“My heart hurts.”

Anonymous asked: How much did you drink so far? Not too much to be dangerous for you I hope

He huffs out a tired sigh and shows you the bottle. There’s more than half of it left.

“You’re going to babysit me too? Not eighteen yet? Just because I don’t age. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask to watch everybody else get older around me while I still look so much younger. I didn’t ask for everybody to make me the baby. What’s wrong with being quiet and nice and cute sometimes? I still want my brother to respect me. I’m not little… I’m mute and I’m psychotic and I like being nice and wearing jumpers and sleeping with a bear. That doesn’t mean I’m not a grown-up. I am a grown-up and I’m clever and tough and I want things. I want to make choices. I’m not five. Not. And if I had got to make a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to come back to be toyed with by somebody who hurt me.”

His face scrunches up like he might cry, but he doesn’t. He rubs at his ruddy cheeks.

“But I still never go away… so maybe I’m just all talk. Just his baby brother.”

He stares down at the gold of the alcohol.

Anonymous asked: okay, that's fair, dap. do you want us to ask one of them to come be with you here instead? it might make you feel better to have someone like blue with you instead of being alone.

“I don’t want to get scolded,” his hands confess. “I know I’m being stupid. No one else has to share my stupid with me. I know I’m being grouchy and negative and unhappy. I know. They don’t have to put up with me while I’m like this.”

He is very small beneath the largeness of the empty office.

“Even Anti doesn’t put up with me when I’m being a brat, and I’m supposed to be his. Everybody likes me better when I’m smiling and put together. He always just leaves and comes back when I’m too tired or when I’m done sulking. That’s what he thinks he can do this time, just wait for me to decide it’s not worth it. And I always do. I always let it go. Because I know he doesn’t care, so why fight about it? Things are worse when he’s mad at me. But he really hurt me yesterday. That’s worse than when he used to smack me around all the time, before I snapped and he realized how scared he used to make me.”

nikkilbook asked: Red, what if you go find Dap and ask him to draw with you? Let you keep each other company while you do something for you.

“Where he at, though?” asks Red, ducking into the house. “Dap?”

No answer from the wide halls. He trails through the house looking for him.

Anonymous asked: If you want to be mad, J, be mad! Be drunk! These are your decisions and your emotions so express them. We want you to be safe but if you trust your judgement to drink responsibly by yourself, go for it, my guy.

“Be mad, be drunk,” he repeats a little more enthusiastically. After a moment he lowers his bottle and sighs.

“I am not being responsible, though. You are right. I don’t want my brothers to think I’m trying to hurt myself again.”

He sets the bottle gently aside, at least for a few minutes.

Anonymous asked: i don't think they'll mind much, dap. anti cares more about control than love, but the others don't. everyone has unhappy days, especially people in bad situations. we don't have to ask, and they don't have to agree, but we'll ask if you think it would make you feel better, okay? we can ask them not to scold you or anything too.

“He is my heart,” says Dapper cryptically, holding his knees to his chest. “That’s the rope he makes me wear.”

He turns at the sound of someone calling for him. He puts his head against his knees, mouth pursed, but after a moment, he tells you, “They can come see me if they want. But they can go, too, if they want. I have never been there for any of them, truth be told. Not for a long time, anyway. And even then, wasn’t I always just the needy little victim…”

He’s spiraling, his eyes getting dark. He covers his face with his hands.

Anonymous asked: i think they'll be happy to see you, dap. red's looking for you, he wants to know how you're doing. do you want us tell him where you are?

“I think it would be okay. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

He stares down at the floorboards.

“There was a while when Dok and Trick first broke when none of my brothers knew anything about me, just my name and that Anti loved me better than them. I couldn’t talk to them and I couldn’t see them, but I would hear them through the walls and pretend they loved me too. It was lonelier having them in the house than when it was just me and Anti. But even when I felt totally… just… unloved, even when he didn’t even know me, Red would sometimes buy presents for me and leave them outside my door. And it was like there was a little remnant of what we had that was still alive. Or like even if he didn’t even know me, he still would be my brother and look after me however he could.”

He blinks. “I’m rambling again. I am drunk. I don’t want him to have loved me better before he knew me than now, when he’s beginning to see who I am, that’s all.”

Anonymous asked: Dap, you are one of the bravest, strongest, most downright terrifyingly intelligent men i have ever seen. And heck, im a grown up. I still sleep with my stuffed animals! And I color just to color and i eat candy for breakfast from time to time. I watch cartoons and i cry and I do all sorts of things. But im still an adult, and yes, you are too. You are strong, and you'll get through this. -Pink

“Yes, I’m terrifying,” agrees Dapper, nodding his head, determined to believe it. “I’ve killed, like, a lot of people.”

He pauses, touches his mouth, scrunches up his face in thought.

“I guess that is the opposite side of the spectrum. In terms of being taken seriously, I want to be somewhere between Strawberry Shortcake and unattended luggage in an American airport, thank you.”

nikkilbook asked: Room with a desk and alcohol, Red.

Red turns towards the right side of the house, shooting you a confused look at half of Dapper’s clothes scattered around the hallway. He pushes on and into the office, stopping short in the doorway.

Dapper stares back at him with wide eyes and a trembling frown, wiping at his face and clutching his bear to his stomach. The Jameson shudders on the floor nearby, drained by a couple glasses. Red blinks.

He sighs through his nose and then moves to sit down beside Dapper, squishing himself into the space beneath the desk at his side. Dapper sniffles and looks anywhere but Red’s eyes, downcast and humiliated.

“Okay,” says Red, making himself comfy. “Give me that.”

Dapper startles and turns to him. He glances between Red and the bottle, blinking.

“Yeah, come on!”

Dapper lets a sigh drift out of him, disappointed. He is just the little kid of the family. He turns the bottle over to his brother.

“Yeah, that’s right,” says Red. “No fucking drinking alone.”

He tilts the bottle back and drinks. Dapper laughs, turning towards him, clasping his hands together over his heart.

“Red,” he signs, giggling.

“Fuck, that burns!” spits Red, shaking his head and his hands. “That’s nasty!”

“Can’t handle it?” teases Dapper, scooting closer to him, delighted.

“Hey, I haven’t had a drink in a long time, okay?”

“Chug, chug, chug, chug - ”

“Don’t even start!”

Red and Dap laugh, huddled over the alcohol and the stuffies, squished together beneath the desk. Dapper clasps his hand through the blanket, leaning forward to set his head down against his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: How's the liquor Red? Bad? Well probably not since this was a rich dude's stash but the difference between expensive and cheap probably doesn't matter for someone's whose goal is to get drunk

“That is correct, for one,” coughs Red. “And also I know jack-shit about alcohol, unfortunately.”

“It’s good!” says Dapper. “It’s really good.”

“Babe, it’s nasty.”

Dapper laughs. “You can’t tell.”

“I can’t tell. All alcohol is disgusting. I mean I just - I don’t get the appeal. If it’s not like the fruity ones that actually taste nice? It’s nasty. I have never find an alcohol I want more than just, like, a nice orange soda.”

“Do you guys want lunch?” hollers Trick from the other side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Get one of ur brothers to bring the food up like a delivery boy lol

“Heyyyy,” hollers Red down the hallway. “Bring me food!”

“No,” shouts back Dok.

“What does he want?”

“Someone to bring him food.”

“No!”

“Blue, you’re supposed to be my twin!”

“I’m sick! You should be bringing food to me, if anything! Aw, look, Trick’s got me a plate already. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

“Hey!”

“All of you shut the fuck up!” shouts Anti.

Just to piss him off, Dapper stands up and sticks his fingers in his mouth, whistling as loud as he can until Red leaps up and makes his stop, laughing and horrified at the same time. “You are one dumb, bold, black and white firecracker, little brother.”

“Guess that’s why we get along,” answers Dap.

Anonymous asked: damn, orange soda!! that is the best soda, you are an individual of refined taste, red. in terms of lunch, trick's making kima - Indian dish with veggies and beef, basically - it looks p good. are y'all gonna want any?

“I want kima. Come on, bud.”

“There’s the monster in the forest.”

“They’re not going to snatch you while I’m here, bud.”

“You don’t know that,” answers Dapper wearily, but he lets Red lead him towards the hall.

aether-mae asked: Y’all need to eat, and also drink some water or you’ll get hangovers. *paps both ur heads* stay safe kids

“Yes, we do,” agrees Red fondly, pulling him down the hall. “Come on, so. Hey! Whoa, man. How drunk are you?”

Dapper has crashed into his chest, blinking fast. “Dizzy,” he signs.

“You shouldn’t have had that much.”

“I didn’t!”

“Let’s just get you some food and water, okay? You’ll feel better.”

He leads him into the kitchen and then decides against sitting him down at the island, turning to leave him beside Blue on the couch. Dapper sways dizzily, rubbing at his head.

“Hey, my darling, what’s wrong?” asks Blue, reaching out for him. “Dok, come here.”

“He’s okay,” Red insists. “He just, uh. Got into the liquor!”

“Hey!” cries Dok, anger and alarm slicing through his face. “Hey, why! Why would you do that?”

“Dok, come on,” Red protests.

“No, don’t ‘come on’ me! Alcoholism runs in our family and he had a suicide attempt this month. Not to mention Haldol interacts with alcohol! You’ll be dizzy all day.”

Dapper shakes his head, staring up at Dok with big blue eyes. He didn’t know that.

“Don’t give the doctor puppy eyes! It’s stupid, Dap! You want to get to drinking everyday, huh? You want a fun hangover so someone has to look after you? You want to be drunk all the time and then I can’t get you to wake up and it’s four in the morning and I told you to stop, I told you not to have so much, I keep telling you - !”

“Dok!” Trick cuts him off.

Dok stops, closing his eyes.

Trick’s face is guilty and drawn in the kitchen. He turns heavily back to his cooking, dishing meat and veggies onto flatbread.

immabethehero asked: Ooh what are you having???

“We are having kima,” says Trick wearily. “It’s meat and vegatables with paprika and curry powder. You put it on flatbread.”

Everyone’s gone mostly quiet, Red shuffling his feet against the carpet. Blue lets his head fall against Dapper’s shoulder. “I’m taking a nap, good night.”

Dapper presses his head against Blue’s. Trick brushes his hand against Dok’s back as he passes his brother, still standing in the middle of the room, scowling down at the floor.

Anonymous asked: Liquor on an empty stomach leads to a nasty hangover. Go get yall some lunch! And drink some water too. Please and thank you!

“Yes, eat,” insists Dok with a sigh, taking a plate from Trick and giving it to Dapper. “So you’re not sick. Can’t be drinking without food. And water. I’ll get you a bottle if I can find one.”

He goes digging around for a water bottle in the kitchen while Trick passes out food. He slices up a huge white peach and gives everybody a sweet, thick slice as footsteps come down the stairs and Anti appears on the banister, staring moodily down at them. Red and black burns disappear into his shirt from his shoulders and neck, but he doesn’t flinch or whimper, just scowls.

Dapper is tense. Dok tries to ignore their brother as he brings him a water bottle clinking with ice, sitting cautiously down beside Blue and Dapper. Red hovers in front of them, folding his kima into a taco and taking a bite in a pretty good semblance of normality.

“It’s good, Trick.”

“Don’t have to sound surprised.”

“Thanks for cooking.”

“Course.”

immabethehero asked: You know what you should try? Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. They’re from America and they’re delicious!

Everyone glances at the camera. “Uh, yeah,” says Trick. “Those sound good. I’d have to have a way to look the recipe up. But I can make good biscuits. Better than KFC, seriously.”

“I think maybe Blue did actually fall asleep on me,” says Dapper uncertainly, trying not to move too much.

Red sits down beside his brother and props up the plate of kima on his twin’s thighs, just in case he spills, taking enthusiastic bites of his lunch. “You’ll let him stay with us again tonight, yeah, Anti? He’s so tired. You don’t want to wear a body like this right now anyway, right?”

Anti shrugs, his eyes flickering. He turns away, playing with his knife, glancing back up the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Laying it on a little thick there, Dok. I understand you're upset but you don't need to reprimand him in front of everyone, least of all Trick. Taking care of others mistakes that they knowingly make can be hard, but harsh words won't improve things.

Dok raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Trick sighs, shaking out his head.

“Let Dok have his reaction and Dok will let Dapper have his,” he says. “He already backed off. I don’t need to be coddled like I can’t handle the consequences of the choices I’ve made. But thank you.”

cest-mellow asked: you guys should have a pool party ! take your mind of all the stress, dark shouldnt come to your house territory anyway right..?

“Yes, right,” says Red, watching out of the corner of his eye as Anti decides to head back upstairs, stomping with every step. He’s gotten used to watching for Anti’s warning signs with his other siblings, but he has no idea how his brother will react to Dapper resisting like this. He’s never seen the two of them fight in front of the others, and he’s never seen Dapper quite this mad at him. Any of his other siblings could have lost fingers for the things Dapper’s done in the past twenty-four hours. Red shivers and shakes the thought off. “Yeah, Anti says Dark won’t come into the boundaries of the house, whatever that means. And if they show up in the yard again, I’ll fucking take a knife to them, swear by it!”

“Don’t talk like that,” mumbles Blue, rubbing at his eyes. “They’re not something you should mess with, I don’t think.”

“Well, I think we should go outside and sit around the pool, anyway,” says Red, reaching out to start tugging on pants legs - oh, Dapper is wearing slacks after all. Red grins up at his siblings. “Come on, come on! Need some sun!”

“We were just in Peru!”

“And still so pasty white!”

They end up sitting around the pool, Trick and Dok side-by-side at the far end, kicking their legs in the water and making sure the other eats enough while Dapper sinks down into the water like a tiger on the hunt, warm in the water. Red sits Blue down in the pool chairs at the side and they take a moment to look at each other, mimicking each other’s expressions as a game until Red makes a face so stupid Blue snorts with laughter and breaks character, sitting back in his chair, smiling in the sun.

aether-mae asked: Y’all keep an eye on Dap while he’s in the pool in case he’s still dizzy

“Good idea,” agrees Dok.

Dapper puts a hand to his forehead and faints dramatically, slumping back into the water. Red actually does leap up to his feet before Dapper surfaces again, grinning.

“Not funny, Dapper!”

“Dapper, that’s not funny!”

“Carver! Don’t!”

He giggles under the weight of their disapproval and they seem to roll their eyes at him as a collective, smiles flickering on their mouths.

Anonymous asked: Ah the facade of normality, so sweet yet so frail

Red and Blue glance over at you, eyebrows shooting up. Blue doesn’t seem to appreciate the message; Red looks a little unnerved.

“Don’t be weird,” grumbles Blue, turning back to his family.

“That’s my job,” says Red, kneading his hands together. “To make things feel normal when they’re not. Or safe when they’re not. Or okay when they’re not. I - ”

Blue puts a hand on his knee. “It was a weird message,” he says, squeezing his knee. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Red nods, turning his attention back to him.

“Hey, will you go get me more water?” asks Blue.

Red is happy to do so. He gets up, taking their cups with him.

It is then that your screen changes in a way it has never glitched, fizzled, or blacked out before.

Someone has taken an Illumination effect to your screens and turned the color all the way down, down, leaving everything monochrome and night-struck, casting them all into shadow. Blue sips at his water as Red returns and you see something smoky and liquid fill up the glass as he puts it against his mouth. In his chair, Red tilts slowly back, until his body is stiff and unmoving against the back of the chair. Dapper is not rising from the pool. Dok and Trick have fallen asleep against each other, and their faces, as you watch, grow more and more hollow. The skin tears on their grey cheeks and white bones glimmer in the dead light of the sun as the color of the pool darkens and darkens and darkens. Blood drips from Blue’s mouth as his eyes flicker and close.

“But you know the truth, don’t you?” comes a cold, drawling voice, deep enough to drown in. “It is just a face - sweet as honey. Frail as mortal bone.”

There is an echo to the voice, not layered like Anti’s, but repeating after it, sometimes changing the way they said it.

“Frail as mortal bone…” it whispers.

“I suppose he put you up to this. You always do whatever he tells you. Play any game he gives you. His loyal, naive little followers. But it doesn’t much matter,” shrugs Dark, flickering into view, blue and red, at the edge of the forest, standing on a cane. They do not appear to you the way they appeared to Anti. Gone is the rot, the decay, the death of them. They are upright and beautiful, with black eyes that glitter like the stomach of the night sky. Black hair curls neatly around their ears and eyes. They are dressed neater even than Dapper, a suit perfectly tailored along the fine curves of their strong body.

They look harmless, respectable, attractive. They are smiling at you.

“I like playing games, you see, with anyone other than him. He’s not here right now,” their voice drawls, low and whispered, as though to make you lean closer to your screen. “So I have a proposition for you, old friend.”

“I have a proposition for you, old friend,” spits the echo.

“It looks like you’ve been watching these poor pets a long time. Attached, are you? I can see glimpses, here and there… illness, torture, sickness in their minds… does it just kill you to watch them being hurt again and again, never getting away?”

“Never getting away? Trapped? Does it just kill you…”

“Bring one of them to me,” says Dark, smiling broadly at you. Their teeth are white like a snake’s. “Bring all of them to me, if you want. And I’ll be kind. I promise. They can rest a while. I have people who can give them anything they want.”

“Anything they want.”

“And no one will hurt them while they’re with me.”

“While they’re with us.”

“But if you don’t… I have more creative ways to bring them with me.”

They smile at you, dark eyes flashing. At the poolside, Red is on the ground, unmoving. Dok and Trick’s chests bleed as twins. Dapper seems to be glitching, thrashing with drowning one moment, still the next, thrashing, still, thrashing, still.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Dark whispers.

They wink. They disappear.

“Thank you, Gigi,” you hear faintly, and then it is all over.

Your screens are normal again. It is a sunny, beautiful day. The boys are unharmed, Dapper chasing a tiny frog around the side of the pool while Red and Blue split another peach and Dok and Trick splash water at each other, laughing. A bird calls, overhead. Everyone is fine.

pine-storm-season asked: Cameras went weird for a moment, was that just for us? It's probably not anything important, I'm just curious if you guys noticed anything about it too.

“Cameras went weird?”

Red turns to pick up a handheld, turning it in circles as he examines it.

“Looks fine,” says Blue.

“Yeah, I don’t know. We weren’t paying close attention, though.”

Anonymous asked: The boys might not have noticed that... "thing", but did Anti also see it?

Anti shoots you a look from his bed, where he’s sitting with about six computers surrounding him or perched on his lap. “I don’t know what the hell you assholes are talking about, but nothing happened in my systems. If something happened, it went through your end of the system, so sucks to be you if you have a virus other than me, but I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine. He looks pissed off and exhausted and unhappy. But that’s probably unrelated.

Anonymous asked: Uh Anti should you really just be going sucks to be us considering that the one who sort of appeared to us seems to be threatening your boys...

Anti stares at you for a moment. Then he bursts into laughter, incredulous. “Yeah, I reckon they fucking did! I was the one who invited them to play this game, you know that right? Fuck. Obviously they threatened them, I told them to try and goddamn kidnap them! Oh, goodness… sometimes I wonder about the lot of you.”

Anonymous asked: So what's your plan here then, Anti? Wouldn't you want to keep them safe from other stuff??

“I thought I explained. I never understand why humans don’t understand when I explain things. I don’t understand what they don’t understand.” He pounds on his keyboard as he types, frowning. “I told you this is someone I… trust. I mean, it’s Dark. They’re my… they wouldn’t hurt my pets. We’re just playing games, that’s all. Dark knows me. I know Dark.”

cest-mellow asked: why would you want dark to kidnap the boys, anti? what happens if they succeed?

“If they snag one of them, they can have Dap for a little while,” says Anti, grinning. “That was the deal we made in the forest. But if not, they’ll help me like I want them to. And that’s the thing, really - even if they do win, I bet they’ll still help me do what I want. Just might have to make up for it in… other ways.”

His smile only grows. He glances out the window like he’s waiting to see Dark again, swaying slightly on the bed.

Anonymous asked: Doesn't it worry you that they know about the cameras and can show us things that you can't see? You don't see that going sideways?

“Fucking Gigi! I’ll kill him! He got into my cameras?”

He leaps to his feet and stands at the window, peering out at the forest, beaming. “Fuck, I knew that little cheat would ask the others for help. Well, doesn’t matter. Gigi may be a force to be reckoned with, but I bet Red can out-hack him. I’ll get him a computer.”

Anti turns back to you, a fang poking out of his mouth. “Besides, I don’t care what they show you. There’s nothing you can do about any of this.”

bupine asked: what other ways, anti? hopefully not something like sacrificing another brother. trick wouldn't like that, would he?

Anti snorts. “Oh, fuck… no. You misunderstand. I meant… other things. But I assume some of you are minors, so I won’t go into detail.“

Anonymous asked: I volunteer Trick

Trick blinks, huddling down at Dok’s side. “Hey! What am I being volunteered for? Guys? Ha, Dok, they’re Hunger Games-ing me. You gotta be my Katniss.”

Dok doesn’t look back at him. His eyes are fixed on the doorway to Trick and Red’s room.

“Dok,” Trick insists, pushing at his shoulders. “Hey, the cameras are talking, you like that. Did you float away on me again?”

Dok shakes his head, turning back to his twin for a moment. “What? Oh, no. I’m here.”

“You’re jumpy all day,” whispers Trick, nuzzling his head down against his shoulder.

“It’s past eight,” says Dok. “Anti should have come to get Blue and Dapper and I. But he hasn’t.”

“He’s just having a hard couple days. Let him rest. It’s okay.”

Dok just stares at the door.

The night has come quietly. He is not the only one who’s tense. Red and Dapper are huddled on the windowsill signing and whispering, Blue laid sleepily across Red’s lap, though his keen blue eyes, at the sound of Trick and Dok speaking, turn and fix on you.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you doing okay?

Red and Dapper pause to look at their sibling and Blue sits up, waving their concern away. “Getting into bed,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Red answers him, reaching out to pull his head in for a kiss.

Blue crawls into bed, carrying a handheld with him. His eyes shift around the room in warning.

“I thought Anti would come back and make us go upstairs with us, but he’s left us alone. That means he’s planning something. It’ll be worse than just dragging us up the stairs or knocking our heads against sinks until we stop fighting.”

He sighs, deep and hurting.

“I don’t know how to protect them from it. Any of them. Even if he doesn’t touch Trick, he gets his trauma secondhand from watching the rest of us get beat and then it’s all buried under this veneer of amnesia and fake love. Even if he doesn’t touch Dapper, he’ll shove him back into a headspace he hates and make him a slave again. Even if he doesn’t touch me, I have to feel him beneath the skin.”

He pulls a pillow to his chest for a hug, closing his eyes. He needs to calm down.

“I think I could almost convince Red to get them and go,” he whispers. “But there’s that thing in the forest…”

He shakes his head and sighs. His eyes flash open. He looks at you. “I promise Dok and I are working on things,” he whispers, so quiet you can barely hear him over the sound of Pot Noodle hopping up onto the bed and padding towards him to purr like a motorboat in his ears. “I promise…”

Anonymous asked: You're doing great, Blue. This is a really hard situation. You're doing incredibly well, okay? We're here to help, and you have your brothers with you too.

“Thank you,” he says. “That’s nice, really. I want to - I want you to have a better story to read. I think about that sometimes. I want you to see us happier. I want that.”

Dapper giggles in the windowsill and Blue looks up, some of the stress fading into warmth on his face. He and Red are huddled together over one of Dapper’s old sketchbooks, coloring together, the colored pencils you got him for Christmas scattered across the ledge. Blue hums a little, his foggy eyes seeming to clear, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, they’re here. They’re with me.”

Anonymous asked: dok, you good?

Dok is humming to himself, something you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him do. It is a discordant melody. His leg bounces in time with the beat. Trick doesn’t let himself look worried. He wraps his arms around Dok’s shoulders and pulls his body close. He expects Dok to go stiff and silent like he sometimes does. The best thing to do has always just been trying to bring him back down to earth.

“Yes, fine,” says Dok.

His face tightens with pain. Trick is hurting him from holding on too tight. But his twin doesn’t know he’s been beat, cut, and strung up by chain all within the last few nights, and he won’t let him know. He can’t. He can’t go upstairs again. He can’t stay upstairs again. There are spiders in the closet. There are spiders on his skin. He’s crying.

“I am right here,” says Trick, again and again, buried low against his shoulder, pushing you slightly away with his foot. “I am right here.”

“He’s going to come hurt me,” whimpers Dok, hiding against him. “Every night, I… I…”

“I think it’s ‘they,’ buddy,” Trick corrects him gently. “They won’t get you long as you’re in the house.”

Anonymous asked: Trick I know you mean well but I don't think anything you could say to Dok would make him feel better. Everything's a bit off but just... stay with him.

“That’s my job, to make him feel better,” whispers Trick, and something in his voice is wounded and aware. Something in his voice knows this is not wrong. “That’s my job…”

He leans back a little to look at him, but Dok just follows his body, chasing the side of his face with his own and pressing them back together like puzzle pieces stuck together in the box. Trick touches the back of his head.

“You are still a half a world away from me,” mourns Henrik, touching Trick’s wrist. “Wo ist mein zwilling?”

“Here,” protests Trick. “Hey, don’t say that, don’t, I… ich bin da. Always.”

Henrik thumbs at the pulse in his wrist.

Anonymous asked: trick, be gentle with him, okay? i don't think he wants to be squished right now. dok, you're gonna be okay. i know, it's scary and confusing and awful. but you're not in danger right now, bud. try to remember that, okay? you're not in danger right now.

Trick eases his grip around him, confused enough that he glances over to you for guidance. He strokes gently at his back. “It’s true. Not in danger.”

“Never feels that way anymore,” mumbles Dok. “Never.”

Trick bites down hard on his lip. He’s known Dok could probably use counseling for a long time, but it scares him every time he feels like he can hear Dok reading out of a DSM when he’s talking about himself. He scratches his fingers across his brother’s scalp.

“Tell me one thing I could do to make today better,” Trick urges him, trying to smile. “Yeah? If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong or what’s going on, you don’t have to. I’ll just be here. Tell me instead something that’ll make tonight better, okay? Cause we got just about everything we want in this big ol’ house. Right?”

A smile pulls at Dok’s tired lips.

“Yeah, there. Come on. What’s something that could make right now better?”

“I don’t know,” says Dok. “I don’t know, I… I’m sorry, I don’t have ideas.”

Anonymous asked: blue, and i suppose everyone, do you wanna know something funny? dark is anti's Complicated lover haha

Did I say that Blue was exhausted? Have you seen the dark bags beneath his eyes, the aching way he holds himself, the leaning of his body against the thin strength of the cane? Have you seen Blue’s fatigue in every line of his skin?

Suddenly, he is wide awake.

“No. Fucking. Way!” You hear him cry, and immediately he’s laughing so hard he shakes Noodle on his chest. “Holy shit, holy shit!”

“That’s horrible,” cries Red. “Hey, don’t even joke about that! That thing looked like a goddamn skeleton!”

“No way, no way!” howls Blue. “Nooooo, that’s too funny, holy shit! Are you kidding me? No, how does Anti even pretend to be anything’s ‘lover?’ Holy cow… oh, I don’t want to imagine the things I’m imagining, hahaha!”

Dapper rolls his eyes so hard they might get stuck back there and gags.

Anonymous asked: maybe a blanket, or a bit of food, dok? or should we see if there's something else you'd like?

“I could build you a fort,” says Trick, grinning. “With pillows and blankets.”

Dok smiles at him, entertained by his enthusiasm. He shakes his head.

“No? I could… wrap you up like a burrito. With Noodle on top.” He pulls his cat off the bed and presents him to Dok. “Do you want to be all wrapped up with your Uncle, Noodle Pot?”

Noodle meows, sniffing at Dok’s face. Dok closes his eyes, feeling his whiskers across his cheeks.

“I could feed you, yeah, all you want,” says Trick, touching his brother’s ribs, proud to feel a little weight on his body again. He hates the magicians for a lot of things, but at least they fed him well. “There’s brownie mix in the cupboard, you know. I been saving it.”

Dok tilts his head, biting on his lip. “That… might be good.”

“Yeah?”

Dok nods, smiling.

“Come with me,” says Trick, leading him to his feet. “You can curl up in the loveseat and I’ll make you brownies, okay?”

Dok loves him.

“Yes,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: just gonna throw this out there but trick uh, anti hurts him. you could help him by keeping him away from anti, and not mentioning him. if you don't believe us, look at his bruises

“Red and Dap are getting along,” says Trick. “Look at them, oh-so-secret, bent over their little book together.”

He almost wants to make fun of them - usually, that makes Dok laugh - but he can’t. Not at that. It’s… nice. It’s good.

“Good for Dapper not to be alone,” murmurs Dok, sitting in the loveseat as promised, petting Noodle luxuriously. His brother’s cat squirms his way up his body and rests against his neck, purring warmly. “And he isn’t the only one getting on better with Red.”

Trick glances back at his twin almost guiltily, stirring brownie mix and eggs and milk together. “I… don’t want to be at odds with him, I decided. We fight, but we’re brothers too.”

He pauses, pouring the mix into a pan. “That’s… okay, right?”

“Why would it not be okay?” asks Dok, confused.

“I don’t know. I just want it to be okay that I - that I sometimes - that you’re not the only person I love.”

Dok stares at him from the chair.

“Like - I want you to know you’re still important, even if I have other people. It doesn’t mean I love you any less if I love somebody else.”

Trick’s cheek stings suddenly. He startles, reaching up to touch his face. He can almost feel the indent of fingers against his skin. He doesn’t know why. It disturbs him.

“Hey, dummkopf,” says Dok, and he turns to see his brother staring warmly back at him.

“Love’s not brownie mix,” Dok tells him, grinning. “It doesn’t thin out as you spread it.”

Trick grins back at him, huffing out a laugh and popping open the fridge. “So what you’re saying is it’s more of a viscous Jello of some kind?”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t know what it is, I just know it’s not caramel cluster brownie mix.”

Trick laughs.

Dok’s voice has gone soft and earnest by the time he speaks again.

“You do not belong to anyone, my brother,” he says. “Your heart doesn’t. It was meant to be free.”

“You could write poetry for Blue,” answers Trick, only barely teasing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dok repeats, with feeling.

“What bruises?”

“What?”

Trick’s voice has changed in an instant, flinty and trembling. Dok looks up from Noodle, confused. Trick is staring at the camera. Then his eyes flicker over to Dok, hard. “What bruises, Dok?”

Dok pulls their cat closer to his stomach, shaking his head. He turns his eyes away from his twin.

“Why do you keep getting bruises? Show me.”

“No,” says Dok. “Leave it alone, Trickshot.”

Anonymous asked: hey, trick? please leave it be for now. come back to that later, maybe, but i think it would be good for you two to just hang out with each other and be happy for a bit.

Trick’s eyes flash between you and Dok, advancing on his brother. For a moment, he considers it - you see it in the uncertainty that crosses through his face.

But Trick, though he often forgets his aggressor, is, in many ways, fighting just as hard as Blue and Dok are. And he knows something is wrong.

“This is scary,” he says, his voice cracking. “Don’t you get that?”

Dok laughs loud and broken. “Do I get that? Do I?”

“This is the first time in my life you’ve kept something from me,” Trick keeps on. “Someone’s hurting you - or you’re hurting yourself. And you won’t tell me about it.”

“I need you to trust me - ”

“No, I need you to trust me!”

“Well, I don’t!” screams Dok, loud enough to startle Noodle off his lap. Their cat streaks away, racing back towards their room. “I don’t! You think I’m fucking hypnotized when you’re the one whose head is messed up! You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you! I can’t count on you! I can’t trust you! Fuck, it’s like you’re not even my brother half the time!”

Trick’s mouth hangs open. His eyes aren’t even hurt - just horrified.

Dok hears himself breathing heavy. Hears the echo of the words like an afterimage on his tongue.

“I - I - ”

Trick can’t speak around his stammer. His hand flutters and comes to rest over his heart.

And then he regains himself again.

And he straightens up.

And he looks at Dok again, kneeling gently down beside him.

Dok feels his own eyes burn. He doesn’t even know why.

Trick touches the open palm of his hand and they breathe together, side-by-side.

Long minutes pass. Trick lets his anger and his hurt go.

Just like that. It doesn’t matter. He’s what matters. His zwilling.

When he pulls back the long sleeve of Dok’s torn coat and finds dark fingerprints in his wrist, Dok does not stop him. Trick rests his forehead against the bruises and grieves them.

“Just… tell me?”

Dok is threading his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t reply.

Anonymous asked: trick, please. i'm not gonna tell you what to do or not to do, but just,,, be aware? pushing dok on this will hurt both of you. like, emotionally. you're picking the scab on an infected wound here. do what you will, but think about what it is you want to do here

Trick sighs very long and very deep. He gives a shaken laugh. Doesn’t know why.

“Does someone know?” he whispers. “Someone who loves you?”

Dok nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Is it going to stop soon?”

Dok blinks and tears run down his cheeks. “I really hope so, my brother.”

Trick kisses his bruised wrist, resting his head against Dok’s lap.

“I want to take you to Singapore,” he says suddenly, curling his fingers around Dok’s. “I really think you would have liked it there. I thought about you every time I was happy. I could show you all the places I liked.”

“That would be fun,” says Dok. “I want to push you in the Lion fountain.”

“Ohhh, Dok,” says Trick, because what the fuck else is he meant to say? “Ohhh, Dok.”

He would like to give him worlds and worlds, but all he has are brownies.

Anonymous asked: dok, are you going to say? you don't have to though, love, it's an honest question.

“I just - I just want to see you trying to think for yourself again,” whispers Dok. “Please? It scares me when you don’t act like yourself. I think maybe, secretly, he’s suicidal or wanting to hurt himself again.”

“No, Dok, I feel good,” protests Trick, clutching at him. “I promise, I promise! I would tell you, I promise.”

“But there are these moments where you’re not okay. I keep seeing them! Like suddenly you’re freaking out and you need to break in half.”

“It’s just - I don’t know why that happens, but it never lasts long, bro, it never does.”

“I’m scared you’d get angry at me if I told you the truth,” admits Dok in a croak. “I’m scared I would see just how much you’re really not yourself. That maybe I would think you aren’t going to be yourself again.”

“Hey, stop,” answers Trick. “Look, that… don’t, that fucking stings. Don’t say shit like that. Like I’m losing you. Hey, it’s not fair. I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trick rubs at his reddened face, sniffling as he gets up to check the brownies.

Dok turns away. “I think you already know who did this anyway,” he adds, so soft you’re not sure Trick hears it. “But it’s too terrible for you to admit.”

Whether or not he did, Trick doesn’t turn around. He is getting the brownies out of the oven. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t.

Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe.

“I think you already know,” repeats Dok, even quieter. “I think you do.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dok? you and trick and your other brothers will be okay. i know it might be hard to believe that, but don't lose hope, okay? you're gonna be okay. things will get better. i promise.

“Every time I look at him I think, over and over again, ‘I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here,’“ says Dok in a hush. “It’s the worst part of the torture. I have to get him out of here. He doesn’t even know.”

He digs his fingernails into his palms and closes his eyes, trying to find his strength again, his hope, like you said.

“I don’t want to be tortured anymore,” he says, his voice creasing. “Things have to get better. I’m scared all the time. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here. You promised, yeah? You promise…”

Anonymous asked: Hows the coloring coming guys?-Pink

“Good,” says Red cheerfully, bonking his head against Dapper’s as a sign of affection. Unfortunately, Dapper is not familiar with this form of affection, and he reels back like a startled cat, nearly falling off the windowsill. Red doesn’t notice. “Dap said I could color his old drawings since he never uses color. And I was like, bro, I don’t want to ruin your drawings! They’re yours! But he says he can hardly tell the difference and he doesn’t mind.”

“I have dozens of sketch books,” says Dapper. “These old ones aren’t even that good.”

“Hey, don’t be a dumb-ass,” protests Red, genuinely affronted on his behalf. “They’re really good!”

He holds up a black and white hummingbird. Color is seeping into its feathers, starting at the breast. Red is not particularly neat in his coloring, but his colors have an organization of their own to them, like he’s giving motion to the body of the bird.

“They’re all good!”

Red begins flipping through pages. A bear with its teeth showing. A city in Japan through a small window. Anti. A raccoon, a pinata, a half-dozen clocks, a dark figure with swept-back hair.

Red blinks.

Red stops.

Red stares.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, that’s the Darkness.”

He stares up at Dapper. Dapper stares down at the floor, mouth twisted.

Eyes scared.

“Dapper? What’s going on?”

Anonymous asked: dap, do you feel like saying? it's okay if you don't, this is an extremely stressful situation and i think red will understand.

“Red, Anti won’t listen,” signs Dapper rapidly. “He doesn’t understand. For once, it’s not his fault, but he doesn’t.”

“If he won’t listen to you, that is his fault,” answers Red humorlessly, and you hear a little of his twin’s bitterness in his mouth.

“Be that as it may. You and me and - well, Max - ”

“Max,” repeats Red, for no reason at all.

“We’re the only ones who know about what I did!”

Red sighs, trying to think. “Slow down, slow down. You’re talking about… when you snapped?”

Dapper’s eyes are wide, soaking in moonlight. He nods once. “Do you remember?”

pine-storm-season asked: Could you elaborate, please, Dap? I don't think we really know what happened. You don't have to, though.

“We talked about it. How our old master forgot.”

Red’s eyebrows raise. “Right… Max said he went to see that guy, J - ”

Dapper shoves his hands over Red’s mouth, eyes wide. He pauses for a second before drawing away, making sure Red gets the message.

“Right,” says Red, flushed. “Guess that isn’t a safe name to say.”

“Our old master forgot us,” says Dapper. “Our creator. Even though he made us. When Anti got his hands on him, I was psychotic and I was scared for him. I snapped - and created a whole separate timeline from the correct one.”

“Right,” says Red. “Like a timeline where we shouldn’t even exist. Where none of us happened, so Anti can never hurt him. That’s why the cameras said there should be videos of us on that Youtube channel, but there aren’t. Because this is a different timeline.”

“Yes.”

“Dap, we better pray Anti is asleep.”

“He’ll just think we’re losing it if he hears us talking like this. But that’s the timeline we’re in now, Red - one where it’s like we never even existed.”

Red pauses, picking at his lip. “So no one would know we exist.”

“Right.”

“Even people we used to know, people we know we had connections with… to them, it’s like we never existed.”

“Right!” cries Dapper. “That’s what you have to remember me saying, or the rest doesn’t make sense. I snapped the timeline. That’s why our old creator doesn’t remember us. That’s why no one remembers us. Like we talked about at the motel in Colombia. Okay? So listen: I broke the timeline trying to protect our creator and I spliced different pieces together. Now, it’s like no one created us at all, like we just came to be. So no one remembers us at all, even if we think they should. Understand?”

Red laughs. “But, Dap, that’s not true!”

Dapper blinks, drawing back from him. “How do you mean?”

“People do remember us,” Red insists. And then, softer: “Max remembers me.”

Dapper looks away, thinking. He rubs at his mustache. Red can almost see his little brother’s brain whirring away like the inside of a computer.

“But… the old master doesn’t remember us.”

“Well, that’s not really true either,” says Red, making Dapper’s head snap up. “Remember? The way he reacted to Max coming to his door wasn’t normal. He didn’t act like Max was crazy. Max said he kept saying our names. Over and over and over.”

“Like he was trying to remember,” says Dapper uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“Like, even though the timelines snapped…”

“There’s still some people who remember us. Even though it’s like we didn’t exist.”

“Why would they do that?”

Red shrugs, looking down at his hands, fidgeting. “Dap, I - when I found Max, it wasn’t like he was… new. I mean, I forgot everything about him, yeah. But it was still like… like he was a piece of me.”

Dapper looks down at his hands.

“Maybe,” he says after a moment. “Maybe it’s possible, that even though I broke the timeline and made it like we just popped into existence instead of being created… maybe there were some people who were so much a part of us, and us so much a part of them, that I couldn’t just take us away from them.”

“And they remember,” agrees Red softly. “Like we’re trying to remember. Like… girls who smell like cigarettes. Like Trick said. She’s a part of him no matter what happens and what Anti takes or what timelines you shift. Some things - some things don’t get erased. Not even by powerful magic. Some people are too important to forget even if you did snap the timeline.”

Dapper pulls at his beard, silenced by the realization. Red turns his head, peering out the window, where the great darkness of the forest waits, looking back at him.

“So the question is… was Anti important enough to Dark for them to remember him?”

Dapper curls his hands together over his heart, closing his eyes.

“And what will they do to us if they don’t?”

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

II

February 3, 2278.

Some of the Brotherhood came over to gawk again. A simple growl made them back off, but it doesn’t stop them from throwing an insult about my skin. Not that it fazes me. I must say, I don’t care. Percy though? If she were awake right now, she would’ve mauled those tin cans.

The doctors put Percy in an induced coma. One of the scribes said that being awake for her now would be painful for her.

It’s been six days since the purifier, and I remember an explosion from inside the chamber knocking me back, the glass flying everywhere. When I came to, I saw her lying there, her armor damaged and glasses shattered from the impact, some of the glass piercing her skin. I hauled her out of there. Didn’t let anyone near her, not even Dr. Li. I must’ve looked like a yao guai refusing to let go of their kill to these Brotherhood bigots.

There are holes in my memory, but I remember seeing blood on the floor when they tried to wrench her away from my grasp. If the blood belonged to me, or to one of the tin cans, I can’t recall. My ears were ringing, but I know someone was shouting, telling the power-armored assholes to give me a wide berth.

It wasn’t until Li told me that my partner would probably die if I didn’t let them administer medical attention that I reluctantly laid her body down on a gurney. I stayed by Percy’s side as they wheeled her to the emergency room. The scribes told me to get lost, but a cock of my shotgun made them cease their pestering.

As they hooked her onto life support, I sat down at the ground near the foot of the bed. I barely moved an inch since. The doctors made blood transfusions, pumped her with RadAway, injected a cocktail of chems to keep her sedated, anything to keep her alive.

The worst part was the seizures. I don’t think I can burn those memories away, watching my partner’s body convulse and thrash against the bed.

From time to time, Dr. Li and a few of the scribes who weren’t bigots would send me food and water as they checked on Percy’s condition. With her father dead, there was no next of kin, but they knew how I stuck by her side, they shared the prognosis with me. They mentioned some terms like leukopenia, hypotension, and other terms I couldn’t understand.

All I know is she’s unwell and I can’t leave her.

Tonight, Li approached me and brought some news. Percy is stable, for now. To my surprise, she sat on the floor beside me, and pressed her hands against her face before letting out a nervous sob.

“I barely got to know her and she could be gone anytime. And to think I tried to push her away. God. Not like this...”

I let her continue mumbling.

“I should have known better than to let her in. I shouldn’t have let myself care for her. But that girl is persistent, isn’t she?”

That, I can agree with. Percy wormed her way into my heart, too.

“You,” she spoke. I look in her direction, but she’s looking straight ahead, her thousand-yard stare familiar. “You got her out of that chamber in the nick of time. A few more seconds inside and she… she could’ve ended up like James.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing.

December 26, 2277.

I was watching Percy’s back as she took care of the intake pipes when the Enclave’s vertibirds came flying in.

“Charon. I have a bad feeling about this,” I remember her saying.

The image of the black machines landing near the memorial stirred a feeling of dread. A pressure on my neck choked me despite the lack of anything constricting it. Before I knew it, the dull pressure in the back of my eyes made me pull what’s little left of my hair. My chest hurt like a bitch and it felt like my rib cage was going to explode.

Percy was quick to notice my distress.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” she cooed in a soothing manner, placing my ruined hands against her soft cheeks to stop me from hurting myself. “Breathe, Charon. Focus on me,” she continues, squeezing my hands. She leads me through the grate to remove me from the situation and turns on her Pip-Boy light.

“Remember what we did in Megaton? Can we do that?” she asks me; it wasn’t a command. “Yes,” I manage to rasp out. My head was spinning, but I focused on her voice to stop myself from blacking out. I won’t let myself black out. She’ll need me .

“Five things you can see?” she starts, and I comply, trying to speak though it feels like I’m choking on mole rat shit. “I see the metal gate. My hands. My feet. The Pip-Boy light. You.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged me, digging inside her pack. “Four things you can touch.”

“I feel the fabric of my shirt,” I continue, sweating hands palming at myself. “I can feel my shotgun,” I rasp, grasping at the barrel. “Warm, right? Like how you like it?” Percy breathes, and I see that she found a bubble gum wrapper and placed it in my palm, before gently closing her hands around my fist. “Yes. I can feel the bubblegum wrapper,” I continue. “I can feel your skin,” I say at last.

“Three things you can smell.”

Her hands stayed on mine. I unclenched my fists, held them, delicate against mine, and pressed them against my ruined cheeks. Percy draws a little closer, her eyes searching mine.

“I think I can manage now,” I exhale, lucid once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain.”

“What triggered it?” she asks me, and I let go of her hands to fetch my shotgun.

“Vertibirds. Enclave. Your father might be in danger.”

Panic replaces the questioning look in her eyes. “We have to help dad.”

We were running back when one of the Enclave soldiers fired plasma rounds at us. I manage to shield my mistress from the onslaught and the hot plasma burns through my armor, exposing my arm. Taking the opportunity, Percy crouches, disappears, and takes out one of the soldiers with her Gauss rifle. I covered her while the panicking soldiers searched for her. We managed to barrel our way through a platoon, and I can hear her sigh of relief when we reached the door to the rotunda.

It was too late when we arrived.

A man who introduced himself as Colonel Autumn was inside the purifier, along with more soldiers in power armor. James was inside, with another scientist in their team. My mistress runs up to Dr. Li, who watches with wary eyes from the other side of the glass.

A shot rang throughout the rotunda. Autumn killed the other scientist.

With no hesitation, Percy and I ran to the entrance of the purifier. She bangs against the glass, calling to her father.

“Dad! Let me in,” she pleads, begs, but her father doesn’t acknowledge her. Gun still pointed at his head, James walked over to the control panel, pressed a few buttons, and then all hell broke loose.

She tried her damn best to pry the blast door open when James locked himself in with the Enclave colonel and radiation started to seep out of the damn chamber. He let his daughter watch as he died a slow and painful death from the radiation, just so she could get away.

She pounded her small fists and threw her shoulder against the glass, but it didn’t budge.

The wild, desperate expression etched on her face will haunt me.

Is that how I looked like when I pounded against the glass?

Was I that afraid to lose her?

February 4, 2278

I was shaken back to reality when the doctor spoke up once more.

“Look, I don’t know about the nature of your relationship with Persephone. I will not pry, and it is not my place to judge, especially after you saved her life. I- I thank you.”

I grunted at her in acknowledgment, and watched as she stood up to glance at Percy one last time.

“Excuse me, I need a small break,” she almost rasps, fatigue evident in her voice, and she shuffles out the door.

Time passed for I don’t know how long, and with a groan, I stood from my usual place at the foot of Percy’s bed and checked the time on her Pip-Boy. She taught me how to operate it in case she gets incapacitated. 00:03. Already past midnight. My legs fell asleep sitting all day, so I walked around in the room. As I pass by the door, I can hear voices on the other side.

“Patient Persephone Zhou’s test results are abnormal,” I hear a scribe say. “Cellular regeneration is remarkable despite lethal radiation exposure. No …”

I press my ear hole against the door upon hearing my partner’s name. I didn’t dare make a single sound.

“She’s being healed by it.”

“Healed? Do you think she’s undergoing… eugh, ghoulification?” one of them says with disgust.

My breath quickens. I wouldn’t wish this… this condition on anyone I cared for. Especially Percy. Not Percy. Rage replaces my anxiousness at the tone of one of the bigots. It has become clear to me that despite all the things my partner did for the Brotherhood, the moment she turns into a walking corpse like me, they’ll be more than happy to dispose of her. I wanted to send the door flying open and strangle the bastards.

But I only kept listening.

“It’s too early to tell. Ghoulification can take years, but at the dose she was exposed to, if it happens, it should be instantaneous. There is no tissue necrosis, and her initial burns are almost healed. We can’t rule it out yet, but there are no symptoms.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“We need to acquire tissue samples. Run tests.”

Footsteps. They’re getting louder. I stop leaning on the door to plant myself firmly on the ground I stand on. The doors swing open, and the scribes almost jump out of their skins when they see me.

“Step aside, ghoul,” one of them spits. The small tremor his hands made while holding the clipboard tells me he’s scared shitless.

“No.”

I take one step towards these bastards and they’re already shouting for backup from the tin cans. Two arrived, but I stood my ground, shotgun in my hands.

“Let the scribes in, zombie,” one of the armored soldiers hissed, pointing her laser rifle at me. “We won’t ask again.”

“What is going on here?” Dr. Li. I lower my shotgun. She’s just in time. I wouldn’t have hesitated to open fire if she didn’t come.

“We’re just here for nightly rounds on the patient-” one of them starts, but Dr. Li waves her hand, dismissing them.

“I am responsible for the well-being of Miss Zhou. The Brotherhood only lent you scribes to assist me, and I don’t need assistance right now. Now please, stop disturbing my patient,” she snaps, the authority in her voice making the haughty scribes back off. I couldn’t help the small, upward tug at the corner of my mouth. Serves you bastards right.

“Call me on the intercom if they pester you again. I need to take Persephone’s blood pressure.”

“They said something about taking samples from her,” I spoke up, and the doctor’s head whips towards my direction.

“Damn them,” she mutters. “Thank you for telling me. Do not, under any circumstances, let them.”

One of my eyebrows cock at the doctor’s orders. “Is there anything I should know?”

Dr. Li stops, sighs, and turns to face me. “With James gone, I know she has no one else but you. I’d prefer if Persephone is lucid and away from this place if I was to breach this topic. Please, you have to understand. It’s unsafe here.”

I nodded at her, and she exhales slowly, unwrapping a pack of bandages to tend to what little burns Percy has left on her.

As I watch the doctor tend to Percy, her words play over and over in my head.

“She has no one else but you.”

[thesixthh0ekage]

fic previews

here are some of the things I have in progress-- y’all tell me what you’re feelin.

1. mile high club (t’challa x reader)

The sound of your feet pounding against the linoleum flooring is deafening but you can’t deny the odd sense of euphoria that’s been building since you tripped the alarm.

What had started as a quiet Wednesday afternoon with Tony down in the labs at the compound had then turned into a surprise visit from your boyfriend-- T’Challa Udaku, King of Wakanda and the Black Panther himself. However you would soon find out that this wasn’t a personal visit. The King had received intel from one of his many spies abroad regarding the whereabouts of one of Klaue’s former associates, and a small quantity of vibranium that had found its way into one of New York City’s swanky, high-rise offices. He’d stopped by the avengers compound with the hope of enlisting a certain spider’s help infiltrating the building, only to find out she was away on personal leave for the next few days.

T’Challa was prepared to scrap that plan and try sneaking in without any sort of distraction… that is until Okoye brilliantly suggested that you be the distraction instead. You’d jumped at the opportunity, though convincing T’Challa to let you help was another task in itself.

He wanted you safe, above all things, and he knew that allowing you to accompany him on this mission was certainly not conducive to such wishes. Not to mention the fact that he’d never hear the end of it if anything happened to you because of this-- you were Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes’ favorite-- read, only-- goddaughter, after all, never mind the fact that you’d never done anything of the sort in your life.

He had made that point to you-- several times in fact-- though in the end he was outnumbered. Your enthusiasm coupled with not only Okoye, but Shuri and Ayo’s insistence as well? The King never stood a chance against such odds.

So that’s how you ended up here, streaking through the halls of some stuffed-shirt CEO’s Manhattan penthouse-- and boy is it a long way down from the 60th floor.

You feel… giddy, despite the way your lungs burn with every breath, and suddenly you’re laughing out loud.  

Who knew running for your life could be this fun?!

“What is going on up there, mnadi? Do you have it?”

The sudden sound of T’Challa’s voice over the comms sends a jolt through you and you nearly trip over your own feet rounding a corner at full speed. You choose to ignore the sound of gunfire in the background.

“Oh yeah,” you huff, looking down at the map your kimoyo beads are projecting. Left at the next intersection. How the hell have you lived so long without these things?! “I most definitely have it!”

“What did I tell you, eh?!” Your face splits into a shit-eating grin when you hear Okoye chime in-- you practically feel T’Challa roll his eyes. “I knew she could do it!”

“Do not encourage her!” The King scolds, but despite his attempt to be firm you can both hear the amusement in his voice.  

“Oh it is way too late for that!” You quip, sassy even as breathless as you are. His hearty laugh echos in your ear, and the sound seems to light up your whole body. Your smile grows even wider.  “I’m clearly a natural!”

2. untiled thor fic

Okay, that’s another one done and only…  

You let the thought trail off and take a moment and survey the scene, counting softly under your breath as you tally up every manila folder and the huge number of unread emails on your computer screen. You make it to thirty-three before you decide that the whole exercise is pointless.

You’ve been cooped up in your office for hours, catching up on emails and sorting through the veritable mountain of paperwork that has collected on your desk in the last few weeks.

It really wasn’t your fault, though. Everyone’s work has suffered due to the whole Sokovia Accords fiasco and, between that and worrying about a certain norse god’s whereabouts, the disaster in your office had naturally taken a back-seat.

Now at the end of it all, you still haven’t succeeded in tracking down Thor and the team is down no less than seven avengers-- the amount of paperwork that came with that kind of scandal was staggering, not to mention the residual fallout from the accident in Lagos.

How the hell did you get stuck dealing with all this Department of Damage Control bullshit, anyway?! The Avengers compound is chaos these days, and lately you were the one people were looking to for answers.

A pained grunt rips through you, and you smack your head against the nearest pile defeat, making a mental note rip Tony a new asshole the next time you see him.

You lift your head from the of files, propping it on your fist instead as you went back to scrolling through your inbox, too fast to really see anything, more so to marvel at how quickly they’ve managed to pile up in the weeks since you’d last checked them.

“Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?” the AI’s voice is patched through to the PA system immediately, filling your once silent office with much needed noise.

“I need some help getting through these emails,” you sigh, massaging your temples. “You up for it?”

“Of course,” is the instant reply, and with that the two of you set to work clearing your inbox of unwanted messages.

It’s boring work, but necessary, and having FRIDAY there to help seems to make the task much faster to complete.

Once the final file has been read and filed correctly, you push away from your desk with a heavy sigh, stretching your legs up off the floor and watching the ceiling spin above you while you try to let your mind settle for a moment.

FRIDAY finishes up an extremely long-winded and condescending email from General Ross’ office, and you throw your hands up in the air with an elated shout.

“Ugh, thank you Jesus that one’s over-- delete it, please! Tony can deal with that bullshit,” you say, propping your feet up on your-- now clean and tidy-- desk. “Alright, FRIDAY, last one. Let’s get this over with.”

You close your eyes as she begins to read, though your brow furrows as soon as you hear the subject line. “An electronic letter from…” FRIDAY hesitates from a moment before continuing, “Thor…?”

3. flipmode (erik stevens x reader)

“Oh fuck, Erik,” you whine, screwing your eyes shut as he continues to slam into you. You arc off the mattress, heels digging into his back in an attempt to bring him in even closer. “Ugh, please just--”

You’re cut off when a particularly powerful thrust sends a jolt up your spine, and stars dance across the back of your lids. The sound you make is pitiful, voice catching on a sob as you feebly struggle against him. Erik doesn’t even pause-- only presses your wrists more firmly into the bed as he continues to rock into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” he asks, and if you didn’t feel so desperate to come you figure you’d feel some sort of pride over how wrecked he sounds. It’s hard to say exactly how long you’ve been at it-- though to you it feels like he’s kept you teetering on the edge for an eternity.

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you-- brown eyes bright and wild.

“Yes,” you say, your voice raw and ragged, “yes, please.”

Erik actually laughs, adjusting his grip on your wrists to hold them in one hand, while the other moves to wrap around your throat again. You clench around him at the feeling, your eyes fluttering closed. “Then you gon’ learn to stop calling me out my fuckin’ name,” he says, and your eyes fly open.

Shit!

He doesn’t give you a chance to defend yourself, or even apologize, before he’s pulling out of you and using the hand on your neck to roughly pull you up to a sitting position.

4. hot sugar (harley quinn x reader)

“What’s your name, sugar?” the sound of a syrupy-sweet voice draws your attention from playing with the rim of your glass, and you look up to find the woman you’ve been eyeing all night staring right back at you.

She bites the end of her straw when you finally meet her eyes, the sultry smirk spread across her face a bit wicked as well. You turn a bit in your bar stool, resting one arm on the bar and reaching out to her with the other.

You introduce yourself, gripping her hand firmly when she offers it to you and she leans forward to look at you through her lashes. “What’s yours?”

She laughs at that, raising one dark eyebrow at you. “I think you know who I am, sweet cheeks.”

You return her devilish smirk with one of your own. True, you’re pretty sure you know exactly who your mystery woman is. If her platinum-blonde hair and multicolored makeup are anything to go by. Well, that and the array of tattoos she has covering her body, most notably the ones on her face and chest, the one on her left shoulder reading Property of Joker. But even with all that you can’t be sure. Gotham is a strange place, and copycats are a dime a dozen in this city.

“I might,” you reply, releasing her hand and turning back to your own drink. “Still, it’s never good to assume, you know? I’d rather ask up front than make an ass of myself.”

In your peripheral you can see her shift closer to you, one of her hands moving to settle on your knee.

“Harley Quinn,” she says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. You realize she’s sizing you up-- trying to determine whether or not you’d be down for the ride.  

“Really?” you ask, raising a brow, and an amused smirk settles on your lips.

She nods, leaning into you even more, her hand trailing a bit higher up your leg. “The one and only.”

5. the ex factor (digger “captain boomerang” x reader)

You freeze outside the door when you hear the first noise. You’d been rummaging through your bag with one hand, trying to find your keys, while balancing your grocery bags with the other, and you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t even realized the sounds were coming from inside your place until you’d been about to step inside.

Your first instinct is to be afraid, but as you listen you find that the sounds are quite different from what you’d expect to hear from someone sacking your apartment.

A/N: these are some (but not even all!) of the fics I have in progress. Some i have been working on longer than others, and I’m workin on eventually getting through them all. Which ones would you guys like to see first?

[kingdomofzythania]

Session 2 (Part 1)

17, 2018:

1. Bar Brawl Continues!:

● To recap, one skeleton has been defeated. Three more remain. Elaria has very low

health. Let the game begin!

○ Continuation of Round 1:

■ K turn: Koe attacks Skeleton 1. Attack hits.

○ Round 2:

■ S turn: Sirena tries to heal Elaria. Bad roll, instead of healing, Sirena

takes .5 health from Elaria (now down to 4.5 health, help!!!)

■ E turn: Elaria decides that if she’s low on health, she should not be in the

line of fire. She backflips behind the bar to hide.

■ D turn: Doryu takes some of his fish rations out of his bag and throws it

over to Elaria.

■ Tw turn: Draws sword to attack Skeleton 3. Attack misses.

● Skeleton 3 knicks Twang’s cheek. Twang takes 1 damage. ■ K turn: Koe attacks skeleton 1 again and kills it.

○ Round 3:

■ S turn: Sirena creates an ice chromatic orb. It freezes skeleton 3. Sirena

pokes the skeleton, which then shatters into a million tiny pieces.

■ E turn: Elaria eats fish ration only to gain back 1 health point. Getting

frustrated with not being able to help fight or recover her health, Elaria

goes back to her Elvish roots and decides to meditate to gain health.

■ D turn: Doryu runs Skeleton 2 into the wall.

● Skeleton slides sword against Doryu’s ribs and he takes 1 damage.

■ Tw turn: Twang attacks with swords. He slices the top of skeleton 2’s head off.

■ K turn: Koe tries to close the distance between him and the last remaining skeleton. He looks in the bar mirror, sees his appearance, scares himself, and falls down.

○ Round 4

■ S turn: Sirena uses Fire Bolt. She creates a flame, scales it back until it's

just a small fire from one finger. She flicks the fire at skeleton 2, burning

the skeleton to a crisp.

■ The battle ends!!!! Gain XP and increase by 1 level.

● Elaria and Sirena choose to take time to choose new spells.

● Doryu, Twang, and Koe loot skeletons.

○ They find a piece of paper on one of the skeletons that simply has the letters FYTN written on it. Koe puts it in his bag. 2. Aftermath of the Battle Brawl: ● Frenchie splits!

○ Group turns to the bar to get their money from Frenchie and ask for information. They find that he is not behind the bar anymore and the back door to the bar is wide open.

■ With no one in the group being proficient in tracking, the group realizes it would be a lost cause to go after Frenchie.

■ The group rolls perception checks to investigate the bar one last time before leaving.

● Elaria notices a weird smells has taken over the bar. Twags simply notices the back door being open and that there are stairs leading to a second floor. Doryu hears a knock coming from upstairs, as does Sirena. Koe be chillen at bar and not paying attention.

● Let’s split up, gang!

○ Sirena and Elaria stay downstairs in case Frenchie decides to come back. Twang and Doryu go upstairs to investigate the knocking sound. Koe, being difficult as always, decides not to join either group and just sit on the stairs.

■ Sirena and Elaria talk about the guys in the group and agree that they are all weird and immature. They agree that the girls are the brains of the operation.

■ Koe plays with his knife on the stairs.

○ Upstairs: Doryu kicks the door at the top of the stairs open. A dirty, weird smelling

man falls from the ceiling and hits the floor. The man sees Doryu and Twang and thanks them for coming to rescue him.

■ Twang rolls a perception check on the man and notices that the man seems extremely malnourished and dehydrated.

● Twang gives the man water from his waterskin.

■ After receiving the water, the man becomes more alert and starts freaking out. He begins to scream at Doryu and Twang asking who they were, why

they are there in his bar, and just cursing at them.

■ Elaria, Sirena, and Koe run upstairs after hearing the commotion. They

ask what’s going on.

● Dude starts yelling and cursing: “I’ve been fucking locked up in

this goddamn room by some fucking guy with a fucking French ass mustache. I’ve been starving and dying of fucking thirst and then you’re fucking weird ass friends come barging into the room. This is my bar, what are you fucking doing in my fucking bar?!”

○ Group plus the guy go downstairs to get the guy a drink from the bar.

■ Guy gets aggravated and says that “this doesn’t look like Roger’s bar”

(guy’s name is Roger). They try to explain that as far as they know this is Frenchie’s bar, the guy who locked him up.

● Roger, still aggravated, shares that Frenchie is a part of the Midnight Bane ■ Group continues trying to gather information from Roger who is still yelling and cursing, not being of much help.

● Koe, being an asshole, decides to try intimidating Roger by throwing his dagger at the Roger’s Bar sign above the bar. He takes 1 damage

■ Roger shares that the only thing remaining in the bar that belongs to him is his favorite plaque that has a joke from a traveler named Ambrose. 1He starts to tell the joke: “So a bear walks into a bar...oh I’ll tell this joke another time. I’m very tired from all the craziness.”

■ Doryu asks Koe for the paper they looted from the skeletons. He asks Roger about the letters written on the paper.

● Roger states that the letters on the paper are given to the Midnight Bane’s henchmen when they are assigned a job, the job this time most likely being to kill the group. The letters are essentially useless now that the skeletons have been defeated.

■ The group decides to leave the bar and Roger asks for their names. The group goes around sharing their names with Roger and then leave the bar. Koe forgets his dagger, which is still stuck in the bar sign.

3. Regrouping at the Lodge ● What to do now?

○ The group goes back to the lodge to rest after the battle at the bar and to talk about strategies moving forward.

■ Elaria’s mood shifts as she becomes angered by what happened at the bar. She states that they must come up with a plan because they had told Frenchie that they were interested in the Midnight Bane and were sent by Panrose to defeat them. She deducts that if Frenchie is part of the Midnight Bane, then they no longer have the element of surprise and they will be waiting for them, or even be coming after them.

■ Serina suggests the group get to know each other better since theu only just met and have to trust each other.

● Doryu shares that Dragonborns are often feared due to the Dragon wars. He had became part of a group of Dragonborn monks in order to try to reclaim the Dragonborn’s good name and restore honor to the race and their abilities. When out on a mission one day, the monks at the monastery were attacked and killed. Upon return Doryu and the few remaining monks set out with the mission to bring justice to those who killed their brothers and avenger their deaths.

1 Ambrose was the DM’s character in a different campaign. He is a talking bear famous for telling dad jokes such as the bear joke started here. “A bear walks into a bar and walks over to the bartender. The bartender says ‘what can I get you, bear?’ The bear says ‘I’ll have a......a beer.’ Bartender says ‘No problem, but I have one question...what’s with the pause?’ The bear looks down at his hands and says ‘I don’t know. I’ve had them my whole life.’”Sirena states that she has a similar past, where her family was murdered. They had been her village’s apothecaries and she had apprenticed under her parents, which is why she is so proficient in healing.

○ Sirena’s backstory is interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the house.

○ Enter Pansy, sobbing “Oh what sad stories! What tragic pasts you have had.”

■ The group is not happy that Panrose was spying on them, to which

Panrose states “this is my house, I can come and go as I please.

■ Elaria brings up Frenchie to Panrose. She tell him what happened at the

bar and that now Frenchie know that they are coming after the Midnight Bane.

● Pansy’s response: “Oh THAT’S bad”

● The group asks Pansy to tell them what he knows about Frenchie.

○ Pansy starts by explaining that Frenchie is not French, but just loves the French culture. He states that Frenchie means “lover of potatoes” (? got to love the random shit that the DM spews out sometimes)

○ Frenchie has the ability of having many faces (some in the group question if he’s a shapeshifter, but the question goes unanswered). Pansy mentions that Frenchie’s specialty is manipulating shapeshifters (so now the question is whether Frenchie was really in the bar, was that his actual face, or was it a shapeshifter he was manipulating?)

○ Pansy states that Frenchie is the toughest member of the Midnight Bane. He states that one time Frenchie threw his glasses at him. He pauses and goes “Sound familiar?”2

● After providing the group with this information, Pansy poofs out of the lodge.

● Who needs a nap?

○ Group decides the begin resting and take turns keeping watch in case the Midnight Bane send creatures after them.

■ Sirena needs to meditate, so she rests first. So does Doryu.

■ Elaria having meditated during battle takes first watch. Koe also takes first

watch, which pisses Elaria off, not trusting him after the stunts he had pulled that day.

● Twang decides to take watch as well. He goes up on the roof taking watch outside, while Koe and Elaria take watch inside.

● Elaria and Koe argue.

2 DM breaks the fourth wall here by having Pansy mention an inside joke referencing a real life event with glasses being thrown. Group steps out of character for a minute or two as they laugh hysterically and then regain their composure.

■ Twang hears howling in the distance, getting louder. He goes inside, tells Elaria and Koe, and then proceeds to wake up Sirena and Doryu.

■ Outside in the distance, the group sees a swarm of 75 skeletal quippers3 and 2 skeletal wolves.

● Twang calls upon Pansy who poofs in to the lodge. Twang screams “France is invading!” (meaning that Frenchie has ordered an attack).

○ Pansy is asked to help and instead says “bye bitches” and poofs out, leaving the group to plan their attack.

■ Twang decides to go up to the roof and use long range bow attacks to kill off creatures before they reach the lodge.

■ Sirena and Elara follow Twang to the roof to use their long range spells and cantrips on the swarm.

■ Doryu and Koe stay in the house to fight the creatures if they infiltrate the house.

● Roll for turn rotation order: Elaria, Koe, Doryu, Sirena, Twang ○ Position of creatures: swarm of quips are climbing the

walls of lodge to get to rooftop by Sirena. Wolf 1 and Wolf 2 on other side of lodge on the ground.

4. Battle at the lodge!

● The Battle Begins

○ Round 1, fight!

■ E turn: Elaria tries to use Chromatic Orb towards the swarm of quips.