#3871

[thewertsearch]

CG: BESIDES, JADE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE PLAN. CG: FOR ONE THING, YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT FOR HER TO SEND YOU THE CODE FOR THE QUILLS. CG: YOU CAN'T SCRATCH THE MESA WITHOUT THEM. CG: SHE GOT THEM FROM HER DENIZEN, OR WILL LATER ON HER TIMELINE, NOW THAT SHE LIT THE FORGE AND WOKE THE MONSTER UP. […] EB: did she kill him? CG: HELL IF I KNOW, HER EXPLANATION OF THE ENTIRE ENCOUNTER BOILED DOWN TO AND I QUOTE "shenanigans"

It certainly doesn't sound like Jade fought Echidna directly. That'd definitely be a tall order for a Player who's been in the Medium for less than a day.

Let's assume, then, that Echidna relinquished the Quills of her own free will. This reads to me as a vote of confidence – as if Echidna approves of the reboot, or at least won’t intercede to prevent it.

Davesprite’s version of Hephaestus was angry about being in a doomed timeline, because it meant that he could never complete his ‘work’, which I believe to be the universe itself.

This current timeline isn’t doomed, exactly – but it is pointless, since it can't birth a universe. Echidna probably wants a timeline where her frog Quest can actually bear fruit, so maybe she’s willing to negotiate with Jade in order to make that happen.

CG: ANYWAY, AFTER SHE GIVES THAT TO YOU, SHE THEN HAS TO GO THROUGH WITH THE REST OF THE PLAN, WHICH IS MAKING SURE YOU ALL SURVIVE AFTER THE SCRATCH, MINUS ONE OF THE DERSE DREAMERS OF COURSE. CG: THE PLAN REVOLVES AROUND SOME REALLY BAFFLING HAND WAVEY MUMBO JUMBO WHICH I DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND, BUT SHE TOLD ME TO TRUST HER ABOUT IT BECAUSE THE INFO COMES FROM A "Reliable informant." CG: WHITENED FOR SMUG TOOL. CG: IT INVOLVES SOMETHING TO DO WITH A YELLOW LAWN RING.

So the Yellow Yard is also Scratch’s idea! Great! That's awesome!!

I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. We can assume, then, that the kids will preserve themselves in a manner which is disadvantageous for them, and advantageous for English. Maybe they'll be be reduced to something as insubstantial as Aradia's ghost form - still technically present in the session, but unable to warn their successors about the demon menacing their reality.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around what a yellow yard could possibly be. Hussie’s direct involvement suggests to that there’ll be some meta element to their escape – in which case, it's not really possible for me to predict what'll happen. Hussie could pull anything.

EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what Dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died. EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice. […] CG: […] IT'S A TOTAL NON ISSUE. JACK WOULDN'T HESITATE TO STAB YOU AGAIN, BUT HE WON'T HURT JADE FOR SOME REASON. […] CG: HE LINGERS AROUND HER UNTIL THE SCRATCH BEGINS AND I LOSE THE FEED, NEVER ONCE DOING ANYTHING THREATENING. [...]

And after the feed cuts out, Jack somehow finds his way into the troll session. I still don't have a clue what's up with that.

CG: [...] SHE SAYS SHE THINKS IT'S BECAUSE JACK INHERITED LOYALTY OF HER LUSUS.

Maybe Jade'll toss a steak into the Rift, or something.

[petals-armor]

Oh my god Tony checking in on Hagel so softly when he thought he was hurt 🥹

[honjitsuno1mai]

#3871 ＠ 東京都港区海岸

[vanillastopbath]

3871 Chicago, IL 08/06/2024

[homestuck-quotes-sometimes]

EB: /raises eyebrows CG: PUT THOSE THE BACK DOWN, BEFORE MY HOT ACID RAGEBREATH BURNS THEM OFF YOUR IDIOTIC FACE. EB: ok, i am putting them back down as not suggestively as possible. CG: WHAT WERE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT, IT WASN'T THIS, WHATEVER THIS IS.

[hydrostalgia]

meow

tf jade harley selfcest??

[damnfandomproblems]

Tbh i dont think everyone who plays hogwarts is a terf or transphobe. Though I wouldnt call them trans activist. I think its just a case of bystander syndrome. Like if they meet a trans theyll probably just treat them like a regular person but they wont go to a protest or something like that.

[pesterloglog]

John Egbert, Karkat Vantas

Act 5, page 3864-3872

TT: vriska, wait!

TT: oops, hold on.

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering arachnidsGrip [AG]

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering arachnidsGrip [AG]

EB: hey, are you there?

EB: i did what you said...

EB: but i can't tell if it worked.

EB: hello?

EB: you didn't fly off to fight jack yet, did you?

EB: i hope not.

EB: anyway, all that stuff you said sounds fun to me, i have hells of the cage flicks in my library.

EB: i do not even care that you're an alien! you see, cage is the universal constant which unites us all.

EB: well...

EB: if you haven't flown away...

EB: i will look forward to your message in the future.

EB: it would be nice to talk, about...

EB: all this stuff that happened.

EB: anyway, bye.

AG: OH GOD.

EB: hey!

AG: OH MY FUCKING HELL, THIS IS SO INSANELY AWKWARD AND SAD.

EB: what is???

AG: HANG ON

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: HEY.

EB: karkat!

EB: that was you?

EB: where is vriska?

CG: SHE

EB: she what?

CG: SHIT

CG: I FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE FOR READING THIS WHOLE THING.

EB: what whole thing?

EB: you mean, what she wrote?

CG: YEAH

EB: why are you snooping around her computer!

CG: BECAUSE

CG: WOW OK

CG: SO LET ME ASK.

CG: DID YOU BOTH ACTUALLY LIKE EACH OTHER.

EB: um...

CG: LIKE I MEAN SOMETHING VAGUELY RESEMBLING ACTUAL GENUINE MUTUAL SENTIMENT OR WHATEVER, NOT SOME LOPSIDED PINING BULLSHIT.

EB: what are you talking about?

CG: DID YOU LIKE HER, YOU WINDSOCK HEADED SHITMOUTH.

CG: IS WHAT I'M ASKING

EB: well...

EB: yeah. why?

CG: OK

CG: THAT'S FINE

CG: THEN

CG: WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER.

EB: talk about what?

CG: I NEED YOU TO BE ABLE TO THINK STRAIGHT.

CG: WE HAVE IMPORTANT SHIT TO GO OVER, AND I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME.

EB: alright.

EB: like what?

CG: PLANS.

EB: what plans?

CG: NEVER MIND THAT. FIRST, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING BLACKOUT TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU.

CG: LEAVE NOW, I'LL CONTACT YOU IN A WHILE, ONCE YOU'VE LANDED.

EB: landed where?

CG: LOHAC. OBVIOUSLY.

EB: oh, obviously.

CG: WELL HOW ELSE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO CAUSE THE SCRATCH, IDIOT.

CG: DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY CLUE WHAT'S GOING ON?

CG: WAIT, OF COURSE YOU DON'T, YOU ARE WEARING PAJAMAS AND GIGGLING AT CLOUDS LIKE EACH ONE WAS SHAPED LIKE THE RUDEST BIT OF NAKED ANATOMY A HUMAN CAN RECOGNIZE.

EB: no i'm not!

EB: i mean, yes, i am wearing some pretty nice pajamas.

EB: but i know lots of things, like about the tumor, which i have already recovered...

EB: wait, i mean the tumor

EB: wait, fuck.

EB: i mean...

EB: oh screw it, you know, the big bomb, and some other stuff like that, i am totally in the loop.

CG: GREAT, AWESOME, NOW GET GOING.

EB: so i have to cause the scratch, huh?

CG: OK, I'M DONE HERE. TALK TO YOU IN ONE SECOND FOR ME, ONE LONG WINDY FUCKING JOURNEY FOR YOU.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: OK

EB: hi!

CG: LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS.

EB: aren't you going to ask me how my journey was?

CG: NO.

EB: it was long! and windy. but a lot of fun.

EB: i really like flying, it's so much fun.

CG: OH, I BET IT IS JUST THE BIGGEST FUCKING BLAST A GUY CAN HAVE WITHOUT A PAIR OF SHAME GLOBES SECURED IN HIS TWO TREMBLING FISTS.

EB: you... haven't tried it?

CG: EVERY DOUCHE GOT TO FLY BUT ME, EVEN THE CRIPPLE.

CG: MAY HE REST IN PEACE, I FUCKING GUESS.

EB: :\

EB: wait, is that the guy who vriska killed?

CG: OH GOD, YOU ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT THAT?

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT, I GIVE THE FUCK UP TRYING TO UNDERSTAND YOU AND HER.

EB: haha, why?

CG: EGBERT, GOD DAMNIT. WILL YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND LISTEN?

EB: ok.

EB: but...

EB: is something wrong?

CG: WHAT

EB: a while ago you talked to me and it sounded like you were in danger, and it sounds like some people died, but you never told me what happened!

EB: then i got distracted by a lot of crazy stuff.

CG: YEAH, SOMETHING IS WRONG

CG: OR, WAS.

CG: A BUNCH OF US DIED, THE END.

CG: I DON'T REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

EB: oh.

EB: are you sure?

CG: YES, AND NOT JUST BECAUSE, OH, THE CLOCK IS RAPIDLY TICKING DOWN TO SOMETHING WE'RE CALLING THE CRITICAL MOMENT, AND NO, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, SO CLOSE YOUR REEKING QUESTION GEYSER BEFORE IT ASKS.

EB: but, i'm your friend. aren't i?

CG: OH GOD.

EB: well?

CG: JOHN, I CAN'T HANDLE TALKING ABOUT IT, OK.

CG: I JUST GOT DONE

CG: UH

CG: DEALING WITH GAMZEE

CG: AND I'M FEELING PRETTY EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT. SO PLEASE, NO.

EB: who is gamzee?

CG: HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND.

EB: really? i thought terezi was your best friend.

EB: or wait, maybe she was your girlfriend, i forget...

CG: MY THINK PAN, IT HURTS

CG: IT IS PRESENTLY THREATENING TO MAKE ME ITS BITCH, JOHN. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?

CG: DO YOU WANT YOUR COOL ALIEN PAL TO BECOME THE BITCH OF A RAW, THROBBING THINK PAN?????

CG: SUCH IS THE SCENARIO BEFORE US.

EB: sorry, i don't mean to be nosy. i just want to know some things about your situation!

EB: i am concerned.

CG: GAMZEE WAS MY VERY GOOD FRIEND, WHO WAS THIS GOOFY LOVEABLE BULLSHIT CLOWN UNTIL HE WENT PSYCHO AND KILLED SOME PEOPLE. I LIKED HIM A LOT.

CG: I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS MY BEST FRIEND IS REALLY JUST THE GUY WHO I HAPPEN TO BE FEELING MOST SENTIMENTAL TO AT THE MOMENT, IS THAT A FUCKING CRIME.

EB: heh, no.

EB: i think i know how you feel.

EB: so he killed some people... and then what?

CG: SO THEN I

EB: it's ok, you can tell me.

CG: JOHN, TRUST ME. YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND.

CG: IT'S JUST A TROLL THING, HUMANS WOULDN'T GET IT.

CG: YOU MIGHT THINK I WAS A SHIT HEAD, AND I CAN'T DEAL WITH THAT NOW ON TOP OF EVERYTHING, SO LET'S DROP IT.

EB: hmm.

EB: ok, if you say so.

EB: oh!!!

EB: i can't believe i almost forgot, i've been dying to know since i left the battlefield...

EB: do you know if rose is ok?

EB: did it work???

CG: SHE'S FINE.

CG: SHE WOKE UP ALIVE ON DERSE.

EB: really??

CG: THAT'S THE RULE, JOHN. YOU KISS A DEAD PLAYER IN TIME, AND THEIR DREAM SELF TAKES OVER, ASSUMING THEY STILL HAVE ONE.

EB: oh, wow.

CG: IT'S INCREDIBLE YOU REACHED GOD TIER STATUS WITHOUT EVEN UNDERSTANDING THE MORE MUNDANE MEANS OF RESURRECTION AVAILABLE.

CG: WAIT, YOUR UNFAILING CLUELESSNESS MAKES IT THE OPPOSITE OF INCREDIBLE, MY MISTAKE.

EB: so, i guess...

EB: it would not have worked on my dad then?

EB: or rose's mom... :(

CG: NO, BUT THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED TO PICTURE HAPPENING BEHIND THE BLACK CURTAIN, JOHN.

CG: YOU SNOGGING UP YOUR DEAD HATTED MAN LUSUS. THANK YOU FOR THAT MENTAL IMAGE.

CG: OR ROSE'S ADULT WOMAN LUSUS. MAYBE A DEAD WOMAN SWEEPS YOUR SENIOR IS MORE YOUR CUP OF SAUCE, SINCE APPARENTLY YOU ARE "NOT A HOMOSEXUAL", WHATEVER THAT EVEN MEANS, NOT EVEN TO SPEAK OF YOUR RACE'S ABSURD QUALMS WITH THE NOTION OF INCEST, WHICH AGAIN, STILL SORT OF WONDERING HOW THAT CAN EVEN BE A THING.

EB: er...

CG: IS THAT YOUR GAME, EGBERT. HAVE YOU HAD YOUR EYE ON MADAME LALONDE, AND YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR A CONVENIENT RESURRECTION OPPORTUNITY TO BUST OUT YOUR MOST PASSIONATE SMOOCHMOTIFS KEPT IN RESERVE? AND IN FRONT OF HER DEAD FEMALE "OFFSPRING" NO LESS! JUST SHAMEFUL.

EB: well...

EB: she is a very pretty lady, but that seems like a really inappropriate thing to think about, karkat.

CG: YOU DON'T SAY!

CG: WHAT ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT ANYMORE

EB: i don't know!

EB: i am frankly pretty upset about finding them dead in the magic castle, and i guess i was wondering aloud if something could have been done.

EB: or at least maybe to talk about it, without angry tirades being involved.

CG: EXACTLY, YOU WERE EMBARKING DOWN TRAGEDY LANE, AND WE'VE GOT TO STAMP THAT GARBAGE OUT.

CG: WE CAN'T HAVE YOU GETTING ALL MOROSE WHILE WE'VE GOT SO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE.

CG: FUCK, LOADED PHRASE, FORGET I SAID THAT.

CG: JUST CLAM YOUR SHIT UP AND FORGET YOUR STUPID GUARDIAN, LIKE I DID WITH MY DEAR CRAB MONSTER CUSTODIAN, WHO I ADORED IN NO WAY WHATSOEVER.

EB: you are being a douche!!!

EB: wait, what am i saying, you are always a douche, hehe.

CG: YES, THANK YOU.

EB: heheheheh, your dad was a crab monster?

CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

CG: WE WERE TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING IMPORTANT.

CG: ROSE, REMEMBER.

EB: yes.

CG: SHE IS WAITING ON DERSE FOR YOUR BOMB TO BE DELIVERED.

CG: IT WILL ARRIVE SAFELY, A LITTLE LATER.

EB: oh, great!

EB: how do you know it gets there?

CG: JADE TOLD ME.

CG: JADE FROM FURTHER AHEAD ON YOUR TIMELINE.

CG: BEFORE MY PIECE OF SHIT CLOWN-BRO MADE EVERYTHING TERRIBLE HERE, SHE AND I WERE HAMMERING OUT THESE PLANS.

CG: I TALKED TO HER ACROSS PRETTY MUCH THE FULL SPREAD OF HER TIMELINE, UNTIL THE SCRATCH STARTS AND THE FEED CUTS OUT.

CG: SO I HAVE A SENSE OF THE WHOLE PICTURE HERE, AND IT'S MY JOB NOW TO PUT SOME THINGS INTO MOTION.

EB: that's cool!

EB: it's nice to hear you are working together. i should pester jade and see what she's up too...

CG: YOU SHOULD SIT YOUR ASS TIGHT AND DO THE FUCK WHAT I TELL YOU THE FUCK TO FUCKING DO.

EB: oh...

CG: ANYWAY, SHE AND DAVE DO A LOT OF FROG BREEDING, ACCELERATING THE PROCESS SIGNIFICANTLY BY EXPLOITING TIME TRAVEL, WITH HELP FROM ME AND KANAYA, SINCE WE WERE IN CHARGE OF FROG DUTIES IN OUR SESSION.

EB: frog duties???

EB: wait, which one is kanaya again?

CG: DON'T INTERRUPT, I AM FOLLOWING A TRAIN OF THOUGHT.

CG: OK, KANAYA IS MY OTHER BEST FRIEND, AND SHE WAS THE HERO OF SPACE LIKE JADE WHICH MEANS SHE'S THE STOKER OF THE FORGE AND IS BASICALLY IN CHARGE OF FROGS, WHICH SOUNDS RETARDED, I KNOW. YOU BREED THE RIGHT FROG TO MAKE THE UNIVERSE YOU WANT TO MAKE, WHICH IS A LONG ARDUOUS PROCESS AND I KIND OF FUCKED IT UP IN MY GAME, BUT THAT'S A WHOLE OTHER STORY WHICH I'LL GET TO LATER, OK?

EB: wow. ok.

CG: SHE AND DAVE RAN INTO JACK, WHICH I'M SURE HE MUST HAVE SAW COMING BECAUSE I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE EXPLOIT TIME TRAVEL SO SHAMELESSLY AS HIM, NOT EVEN ARADIA.

EB: aradia?

CG: JUST ANOTHER DEAD TROLL, WHO CARES.

EB: :(

CG: STOP FROWNING, SHE WAS ALREADY DEAD BEFORE SHE DIED.

EB: ...

EB: :(

CG: SO SHE AND DAVE FOUGHT WITH HIM A WHILE, AND LONG STORY SHORT, HE DIED.

EB: what!!!

CG: BUT IT'S FINE, I GUESS THAT WAS HIS PLAN, LIKE SOME BIZARRE USELESS LAST STAND, EVEN IF HE DIDN'T TELL JADE WHO WAS PRETTY FREAKED OUT UNTIL I TALKED HER THROUGH IT.

EB: did she kiss him too? :O

CG: YEAH.

CG: RIGHT THERE, WHILE JACK WATCHED LIKE A FUCKING CREEP.

CG: BUT IT WORKED.

EB: omg, karkat. it is like your shitty shipping grid is coming true before our very eyes.

EB: haha, remember when you made that ugly thing?

CG: WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT SHIPPING, OR MY LUDICROUS STRANGLEHOLD OVER ALL TOPICS CONCERNING ROMANCE, I'M STILL TALKING.

CG: HE WOKE UP ALIVE ON DERSE, AND MET WITH ROSE.

CG: THAT WAS THE END OF THE LINE FOR ALPHA DAVE. TO MY KNOWLEDGE, HE DOESN'T TIME TRAVEL AFTER THAT, AND HE AND ROSE STAY ON DERSE WAITING FOR THE BOMB UNTIL YOU START THE SCRATCH. BUT I CAN'T SEE EITHER OF THEM BECAUSE OF THE BLACKOUT LINGERING AROUND ROSE FOR WHATEVER REASON. NOBODY KNOWS WHAT'S UP WITH THAT.

CG: REGARDLESS, HIS JOB IS TO PLOT A COURSE THROUGH THE RING TO FIND THE SUN.

CG: WHEN HE DOES, EITHER HE OR ROSE WILL DELIVER THE BOMB.

CG: I DON'T KNOW WHICH.

EB: but now they don't have dream selves left!

EB: who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they?

CG: THAT WOULD BE THE LOGICAL EXTENSION OF THOSE FACTS, YES.

EB: this is unacceptable!

EB: couldn't i do it?

EB: i am apparently immortal, because of this god tier business, so the bomb probably would not kill me!

CG: OK, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THERE'S A REMOTE POSSIBILITY THAT GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO SAVE ALL OF REALITY WOULD COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH?

EB: hmm...

EB: maybe i could try to be not all that brave while i do it?

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, OF COURSE YOU'D BE BRAVE. THAT TENDS TO BE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING REALLY FUCKING COURAGEOUS.

EB: yeah.

EB: i just don't want to lose anybody else is all.

CG: THAT'S JUST HOW IT IS. I'VE LOST FRIENDS FOR WAY MORE POINTLESS REASONS. YOU'RE ALL OUT OF OPTIONS HERE.

CG: YOU'D BE RISKING DEATH JUST AS MUCH AS THEY WOULD, AND THEY'RE BETTER QUALIFIED TO HANDLE THE MISSION AS THE DERSE DREAMERS.

CG: JADE'S DREAM SELF IS DEAD TOO, SO SHE'S OUT. OR TO BE MORE SPECIFIC, HER DREAM SELF IS AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL DOG WHO WENT OFF WHIMPERING SOMEWHERE. I'M PRETTY SURE SHE WILL BE COMPLETELY USELESS.

EB: oh, yeah.

EB: she mentioned something about that. she said she prototyped her dream self?? what happened with that?

CG: SHE DOESN'T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT. KIND OF A SORE SUBJECT.

EB: why?

CG: SHE THINKS SHE'S SELFISH AND COMPLETELY HYSTERICAL AND I GUESS HATES THE PART OF HERSELF SHE REPRESENTS.

CG: BUT I MEAN, THE THING IS SHE SPENT A LONG TIME BEING DEAD AND MOVING ON, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CAN JUST BRING SOMEBODY BACK AND EXPECT THEM TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ALL THE STUFF YOU THINK IS IMPORTANT.

CG: I'VE TRIED TO TELL HER THAT HER SPRITE SELF IS PROBABLY NOWHERE NEAR AS DESPICABLE AS SHE'S MAKING OUT WITH HERSELF TO BE.

CG: I MEAN

CG: MAKING HERSELF OUT TO BE.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

EB: ...

CG: LOOK, I'M JUST SAYING

CG: WE'VE ALL GOT FLAWS, EVEN HER

CG: AND FOR ALL THE SHIT SHE'S GIVEN ME ON THIS VERY SUBJECT, SHE KEEPS HERSELF DANGLING FROM A VERY HIGH HOOK.

CG: SHE'D BE DOING ME A MAJOR PERSONAL SOLID BY MAKING AT LEAST SOME ATTEMPT TO GET HERSELF OFF.

CG: WAIT

CG: FUCK

CG: WHAT DID I JUST SAY

EB: wow.

CG: I MEANT LET HERSELF OFF.

CG: THE HOOK. THE FUCKING HOOK, IT'S A FIGURE OF GODDAMN SPEECH.

EB: /raises eyebrows

CG: PUT THOSE THE BACK DOWN, BEFORE MY HOT ACID RAGEBREATH BURNS THEM OFF YOUR IDIOTIC FACE.

EB: ok, i am putting them back down as not suggestively as possible.

CG: WHAT WERE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT, IT WASN'T THIS, WHATEVER THIS IS.

EB: what is what this is?

CG: IT'S NOTHING, YOU SHIT. IT HAS BEEN THE CONVERSATIONAL EQUIVALENT OF US WHISTLING THROUGH OUR SNORT BARRELS WHILE TOUCHING EACH OTHER INAPPROPRIATELY.

EB: was...

EB: was that another weird erotic slip of the tongue?

CG: NO, THAT WAS ME BEING WORKED UP INTO THIS RIDICULOUS FUCKING CONNIPTION AND SAYING SOMETHING INFLAMMATORY, GOD. HOW DOES THAT NOT BE CLEAR BY NOW???

EB: ok, well,

EB: what i am getting from this, aside from the possibility that jade may or may not have kissed dog jade at some point, is that neither of them will be able to help with the bomb plan.

CG: THAT'S EXACTLY RIGHT! THE PAJAMA PRODIGY USED HIS PUZZLE SPONGE TODAY.

CG: BESIDES, JADE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE PLAN.

CG: FOR ONE THING, YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT FOR HER TO SEND YOU THE CODE FOR THE QUILLS.

CG: YOU CAN'T SCRATCH THE MESA WITHOUT THEM.

CG: SHE GOT THEM FROM HER DENIZEN, OR WILL LATER ON HER TIMELINE, NOW THAT SHE LIT THE FORGE AND WOKE THE MONSTER UP.

EB: aren't those the really tough to kill guys?

CG: YEAH

EB: did she kill him?

CG: HELL IF I KNOW, HER EXPLANATION OF THE ENTIRE ENCOUNTER BOILED DOWN TO AND I QUOTE "shenanigans"

CG: LIMED FOR INFURIATINGLY VAGUE.

EB: haha.

CG: ANYWAY, AFTER SHE GIVES THAT TO YOU, SHE THEN HAS TO GO THROUGH WITH THE REST OF THE PLAN, WHICH IS MAKING SURE YOU ALL SURVIVE AFTER THE SCRATCH, MINUS ONE OF THE DERSE DREAMERS OF COURSE.

CG: THE PLAN REVOLVES AROUND SOME REALLY BAFFLING HAND WAVEY MUMBO JUMBO WHICH I DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND, BUT SHE TOLD ME TO TRUST HER ABOUT IT BECAUSE THE INFO COMES FROM A "Reliable informant."

CG: WHITENED FOR SMUG TOOL.

CG: IT INVOLVES SOMETHING TO DO WITH A YELLOW LAWN RING.

CG: WHICH ISN'T THE HUMAN WORD FOR IT, IT'S JUST YOUR WORD IS SO DUMB I FEEL DUMB SAYING IT.

EB: word for what?

CG: I GUESS YOUR ENTIRE ESCAPE PLAN SOMEHOW PIVOTS CRITICALLY AROUND AN UNWATERED PIECE OF RESIDENTIAL PROPERTY???

CG: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT IT MEANS. JADE SAYS SHE HAS THIS FIGURED OUT, AND I DON'T HAVE TIME TO DO MUCH BUT TRUST HER.

CG: THE POINT IS, SHE'S ALL BOOKED UP, AND ALL TOO MORTAL. SO SHE WON'T BE DELIVERING THE BOMB, AND NEITHER WILL YOU.

EB: ok, well what about this.

EB: since she is mortal, and i am not (sort of), and i don't need to do the scratch for a while, can i go help her?

EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died.

EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice.

CG: NO NO NO NO NO NO.

CG: SWEET BLEEDING JEGUS, EGBERT, YOU KEEP BRAGGING ABOUT YOUR IMMORTALITY, AND THEN BRAINLESSLY ANNOUNCE PLANS TO GO OFF AND DO SOMETHING HEROIC! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE SHORTEST LIFESPAN OF ANY IMMORTAL IN HISTORY.

EB: sorry. :(

CG: BESIDES, IT'S A TOTAL NON ISSUE. JACK WOULDN'T HESITATE TO STAB YOU AGAIN, BUT HE WON'T HURT JADE FOR SOME REASON.

CG: IF ANYTHING, YOU COULD USE HER PROTECTION.

EB: really?

CG: I NEVER NOTICED WHEN LOOKING THROUGH HER TIMELINE EARLIER. IT WASN'T UNTIL I WAS TALKING TO HER IN THOSE TIMEFRAMES AND SHE TOLD ME. HE JUST KEEPS FOLLOWING HER AROUND. I CAN SEE HIM OFF IN THE DISTANCE IN SOME FRAMES, JUST LURKING THERE, SHADOWING HER MOVEMENTS. IT'S INCREDIBLY DISTURBING.

CG: HE LINGERS AROUND HER UNTIL THE SCRATCH BEGINS AND I LOSE THE FEED, NEVER ONCE DOING ANYTHING THREATENING. SHE SAYS SHE THINKS IT'S BECAUSE JACK INHERITED LOYALTY OF HER LUSUS.

CG: IF SHE'S RIGHT, I GUESS HER LUSUS REALLY DID OFFER HER THE MOST PROTECTION POSSIBLE BY PROTOTYPING ITSELF, ALBEIT BY DOOMING US ALL. THE IDIOT.

EB: d'aw, that's actually kinda cute.

CG: SADLY, HE HOLDS NO SUCH LOYALTY TO ANY OF US HERE. HE REGARDS US ALL AS RIPE FOR THE REPEATED SKEWERING.

CG: OH FUCK, MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE ALL JUST DRESSED LIKE JADE?? I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS STROKE OF GENIUS ONLY OCCURRED TO ME NOW.

EB: i don't think he would be fooled. dogs have pretty good senses of smell.

CG: IT WAS

CG: A MOTHERFUCKING

CG: JOKE

CG: ANYWAY, IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE.

CG: IF WE CAN RIDE THIS OUT FOR A LITTLE LONGER UNTIL THE CRITICAL MOMENT, AND DAVE/ROSE CAN DESTROY THE SUN, JACK SHOULDN'T BE A THREAT.

CG: CONVENIENTLY, IF THEY'RE SUCCESSFUL, THAT WILL SIGNAL THE BEGINNING OF OUR OWN ESCAPE PLAN.

EB: what is your plan?

CG: APPARENTLY THE EXPLOSION WILL BE SO HUGE, IT WILL BE VISIBLE AT GREAT DISTANCES THROUGHOUT THE FURTHEST RING.

CG: EVEN FROM DIFFERENT SESSIONS, LIKE YOURS AND OURS. YOU WON'T GET TO SEE IT BECAUSE BY THEN YOUR SESSION SHOULD BE WIPED OUT BY THE SCRATCH.

CG: BUT WE WILL. THE PLAN IS TO USE IT AS A BEACON, AND TRAVEL THERE AS A RENDEZVOUS POINT.

EB: rendezvous with who?

CG: WE'VE GOT PEOPLE THERE. THAT'S WHAT JADE TELLS ME.

EB: jade knows so many things lately, what is even her deal?

CG: HELL IF I KNOW, THIS IS BASICALLY DREAM INTELLIGENCE, EVERY TIME SHE GOES TO SLEEP, SHE HAS MORE TO RAMBLE ABOUT.

CG: SHE SAYS I SHOULD GO TO SLEEP TO FIND OUT, BUT I'M LIKE HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NAPPING BETWEEN MAKING ALL THESE PLANS AND GETTING PERSECUTED BY THIS DEMENTED HONKING ASSHOLE?

CG: SO YEAH, WE'LL MEET IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE EXPLOSION WITH OUR PEOPLE ON THE INSIDE, OR I GUESS I SHOULD SAY OUTSIDE.

CG: I DON'T THINK THEY CAN COME WITH US THOUGH.

EB: come with you where? who are they?

CG: DEAD PEOPLE.

CG: AS FOR WHERE, IT'S NOT LIKE WE'RE GOING TO STICK AROUND THERE FOREVER. THAT WOULD PROBABLY BE DEPRESSING, SINCE WE'RE NOT FUCKING GHOSTS.

CG: THE SCRATCH WILL REBOOT YOUR SESSION. YOUR WHOLE UNIVERSE ACTUALLY. SO SOMEWHERE IN THIS DREADFUL ABYSS, THAT NEW SESSION WILL START UP IN ITS OWN INCIPISPHERE, FROM SCRATCH.

CG: LOOK AT THAT, ANOTHER PUN BECAUSE OF USING THAT FUCKING WORD EVERY OTHER SENTENCE! KILL ME NOW.

CG: BUT THAT "FROM SCRATCH" (F'ING LOL!) SESSION IS WHAT YOU'RE SHOOTING FOR TO SURVIVE.

CG: THE IDEA IS FOR YOU ALL TO PRESERVE YOURSELVES BY ESCAPING THERE.

EB: through the lawn ring?

CG: YES.

CG: ONCE YOU'RE THERE, YOU WILL HELP US FIND OUR WAY THERE TOO, AND THEN WE CAN ALL FINALLY FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK TO DO WITH THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

EB: oh!!

EB: so then, this is how we're supposed to meet. that is kind of exciting.

CG: YEAH, I GUESS, IF ENOUGH OF US ARE ALIVE BY THEN TO MEET.

EB: so, i guess you are not worried about it turning into a huge sloppy makeout fest anymore...

CG: UH

CG: RIGHT! HAHAHA, JOHN, YOU AND VRISKA BETTER KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELVES, OR EVERYONE'S GOING TO BE REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. NO INTERSPECIES FUNNYBUSINESS, IS THAT CLEAR!

CG: BLAAAAAAARGH, I AM CONVINCINGLY FLIPPING MY LID ABOUT THIS, WAVING MY ARMS AROUND A LOT, AND MAKING ALL MY BEST YELLING FACES. WOW, LOOK AT THAT! IT'S TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT AGAIN.

EB: huh?

CG: POOF! SUBJECT CHANGED.

CG: IF IT WORKS AND YOU WIND UP IN THE NEW SESSION, THAT'S WHY IT'LL BE IMPORTANT TO MAKE SURE ONE OF THE DERSE DREAMERS STAYS WITH YOU, SO THEY CAN HELP GUIDE US THERE FROM THE RING.

EB: won't there be other players in the new session?

EB: like, alternate universe versions of ourselves or such?

CG: PROBABLY.

CG: BUT THOSE CHUMPS WON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT US, OR ALL OUR PLANS. WHY WOULD THEY?

EB: yeah... it's just kind of a weird thought.

CG: SO OUT OF EVERYTHING WE JUST TALKED ABOUT, THIS IS THE THING THAT HAS YOU TRIPPING GLOBES? WHATEVER YOU SAY!

EB: but i guess it's sort of comforting too.

EB: if rose or dave have to go off and die, at least i get to see them again, in a way.

EB: even if i will only be alternate universe john to them.

EB: maybe my dad will be alive in that session too!!!

CG: OK, MAYBE, BUT BEFORE YOU GET TOO EXCITED ABOUT THAT, YOU'VE GOT TO MAKE SURE YOU GET THERE FIRST.

CG: WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT I SAY, AND STICK TO THE PLAN.

CG: YOU NEED TO FOCUS ON GETTING READY TO START THE SCRATCH. THE GAME DOESN'T MAKE A HARD RESET THAT EASY TO PULL OFF.

CG: ONCE YOU INITIATE IT, THE GAME THROWS EVERYTHING IT'S GOT AT YOU. WHICH IS ONE REASON WHY YOU'RE THE BEST GUY FOR THE JOB, BECAUSE OF YOUR SUPERPOWERS AND SILLY WINDY BULLSHIT.

EB: ok. i'll do my best.

EB: what should i do right now?

CG: GET PREPARED, MAKE ALL THE EQUIPMENT YOU THINK YOU'LL NEED, STAY OUT OF TROUBLE.

CG: WAIT FOR JADE TO SEND THAT CODE, WAIT FOR ME TO CONTACT YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME, AND DO YOUR BEST TO HUMOR HIM WHILE HE IGNORANTLY ATTEMPTS TO FLAME YOU BACK INTO THE PUDDLE OF SLIME YOU CRAWLED OUT OF.

CG: PLEASE.

EB: oh, man.

EB: our "first" conversation ever? i can't wait.

CG: YEAH, BUT CAN I JUST SAY SOMETHING IN MY DEFENSE BEFORE THAT HAPPENS?

CG: I DON'T ACTUALLY HATE YOU, AND I NEVER DID. I WAS DELUDING MYSELF.

CG: DEEP DOWN I'M SURE I WAS ALWAYS PRETTY OK WITH YOU.

EB: thanks karkat!

CG: IT WASN'T A FUCKING COMPLIMENT.

[tropes-and-tales]

Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part III

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst (relationship woes); open relationships; violence (the boys be fighting); 18+ only.

Word Count:  3871

AN:  This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has the idea to follow you and Bob.  A nauseous rage courses through him from where he sits, tucked away in the shadows.  He has the idea to follow Bob’s truck as it drives to Bob’s place, to confront the two of you:  his treacherous girlfriend, and his fellow Dagger.

But from his vantage point, he watches you and Bob.  He sees how broadly you smile, how Bob says something that makes you laugh.  When was the last time Jake made you laugh like that—where you pause in your steps, throw your head back, and actually laugh?

Then he sees Bob Floyd—fucking Baby on Board—lean into you, sees the scrawny fucking back-seater kiss you.  He sees how you melt into the kiss, the way your body arches into Bob’s.  He sees you when you break away, the little laugh you give as you reach up and adjust Bob’s glasses, the tender gesture needling at Jake’s heart.

He has the idea to follow you and Bob, but Jake finds himself frozen in place.  He sits in his truck in the side alley.  He stays there long after you and Bob leave, his hands clenched so tight on the steering wheel that it creaks from the pressure of his grip.

*****

Bob knows from his work that there are always limits.  A plane, designed in such a way, can only go so high or so fast before systems start to fail.  Punishing speed, the crush of gravity, extreme cold or heat…engineering can only do so much.  There are always limits where a system starts to fail.

Bob knows this thing with you is exactly the same.

He’s reaching his limit.  Maybe he’s already reached it and has been a dead man flying for a while now. 

He went into this thing with open eyes, he thought.  This thing.  Hell, he doesn’t even know what to call it.  A fling?  An affair?  A relationship?  No word really captures it, and half of the words make it feel tawdry, even though Jake was the one who opened up your relationship.  The other half of the words make it feel tender and promising, which is hard to believe when you’ve only ever spent the night once.

Like tonight:  Jake told you in no uncertain terms that he was going off to fuck another woman.  You watched him leave the Hard Deck.  Moments later, you left with Bob, came back to Bob’s apartment, and fucked Bob.

And now you’re dressing and getting ready to leave.  You sit on the edge of Bob’s bed and pull your shirt back over your head, and Bob is left tangled in his sheets and feeling about as badly as a man can.

There are always limits.  Steel, carbon fiber, titanium…it all cracks under pressure, if there’s enough pressure.

“You can stay,” Bob says.  He sits up and reaches to the bedside stand for his glasses.  He slides them back on his face and watches how your shoulders tense up at his offer.

“I should head home.”

Bob snorts at your choice of wording.  Home.  Where you live with Jake, when Jake deigns to come home and be with you.  When he’s not out sleeping with other women, sowing his wild oats—too scared of being locked down for life to one woman, but too much of a coward to cut you loose in the meantime.

The noise makes you turn and look at him.  You study his face and must see something there, because you frown and say his name in a way that sounds like a warning.

“Bob.”  You meet his gaze and shake your head faintly.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”  He leans forward and takes your hand in his, but you pull it away.  He sighs. 

“Don’t…just…I don’t want to—”  You try to find the words, but he cuts you off.

“What are we even doing?” he asks. 

You turn away, hang your head, and with your back to him, Bob can see the tension in your shoulders, the slump in them.  How tired you look even from this angle.  Worn down.  The pressure must be getting to you too.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply.  Your voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, he has to lean closer to hear you.  “He…he wants to take me home with him for the holidays.”

Another snort, but more bitter.  “So he can play Boyfriend of the Year?  So he can pretend like he hasn’t been fucking around on you for the past year and making you feel like shit?”

You curl in more on yourself, wrap your arms around your waist, and isn’t this why Bob has steadily grown to hate Jake Seresin?  That he’s made you into a cringing, insecure creature, so unsure of yourself that you can’t even voice what you want?

“Honey, c’mon.”  He moves towards you and you don’t dodge him, so he settles behind and wraps both arms around you.  He pulls you close, and he feels how you sag against him.  He lays his cheek against your head and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair.  “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Then don’t fight.”

He kisses your temple, sighs again.  Settles back against you and takes in the scent of your shampoo, the scent of you that manages to linger in his place long enough after you leave that he aches with how much he misses you.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, and that’s the truth.  He wants to see you laughing and smiling, and if Jake could do that for you, Bob would step aside even if it hurt.  “Are you happy with him, honey?  Are you happy with the life you’re living with him?”

You shake your head in reply.

“Then why…”  He trails off, doesn’t finish the question, but you understand it anyway.

“Because he’s all I’ve ever known.  The only boyfriend I’ve had.  I’ve…Bob, I’ve followed him all over the country my whole adult life.  Everyone back home knows me as Jake Seresin’s girl, for heaven’s sake.”

The admission stings Bob a little, but he can’t say he’s been your boyfriend.  He’s mostly just been your hook-up.

“I’ve dated him since I was a kid,” you add.  “It’s been so many years.”

“So many years and he still won’t commit.”

That makes you untangle yourself from him, and you stand up from the bed and turn to look at him.  If he expects rage or tears, he is disappointed:  there’s only your eyes fixed on his and a deep exhaustion behind them.

“Maybe all he needed was this time to get all this,” you gesture broadly, “out of his system.”

Bob shakes his head in frustration, and he reaches down on the floor to snag his boxers, his t-shirt.  He pulls them on and stands to face you, and when he places his hands on your upper arms, you don’t pull away.

“And I need you to understand that a real man who really loved you would have had nothing left to get out of his system,” he tells you.  He jostles you lightly, tries to get the words to sink into your skull for once.  “He would have given you so much love, he wouldn’t have even looked at another woman.  He would have given everything to you, with nothing left for them.”

You reach up and grasp his wrists where he holds you.  You look so sad.  Defeated.  Bob can see not just the past year but the years, all the time you invested in Jake—so much that you aren’t even you to many people.  You’re Jake Seresin’s girl, and your identity is wrapped up in your feckless boyfriend.  Bob can guess that you only see yourself as a pale reflection of Jake’s bright fly-boy persona.

“It’s been so many years,” you repeat sadly.  “It has to mean something, Bob.”

Then you gently pull yourself from his grasp, and Bob can only stand there as you leave.

*****

Bradley has a sense about these things:  something bad is coming.

He has a preternatural feel for doom which, not to be dramatic, probably comes from his dad dying in a freak accident and then his mom withering away from cancer years later.  He got both ends of the death spectrum—sudden, violent, and slow and wasting—and so he feels particularly sensitive to certain atmospheric conditions that signal trouble.

Then again, Hangman’s fucked up life blowing up during a Saturday game of dogfight football is hardly on the same scale as Bradley’s path to being an orphan.

Bradley scoffs at himself (dramatic asshole, he thinks), but his stomach does do a warning twinge the moment all the relevant players are on the field.

There’s Hangman, the Golden Boy from Texas, his jawline clenched so hard that Bradley imagines his teeth cracking under the pressure.

There’s you, you hand held firmly by Hangman until you get set up in your perch higher up on the sand—you shake out a blanket, weigh down the corners with your shoes and a cooler.  You tilt your head towards Jake for the bruising kiss he lays on you before he turns away and makes his way to the other Daggers.

And then there’s Bob, standing quietly with the other Daggers, watching quietly as Jake kisses you. 

Something about the scene makes Bradley go on alert, and the thought drifts through his head the moment Jake walks past Bob.

Jake knows.

Which should be fine.  Jake should know.  Bradley is entirely confused about how the man couldn’t know, since the open relationship was his idea.  Since Jake brazenly took other women home while you watched like an abandoned kitten from the sidelines of the Hard Deck.  Since Jake joked around about it sometimes, months ago, playfully tried to drum up dates for you with the other Daggers.  Hell, Bradley was there when Jake sidled up to Bob once, asked the guy if he wanted to fuck you, and if it was all just joking around, Jake still shouldn’t be surprised if Bob eventually took him up on the offer anyway.

Goddamned Jake and his fucked-up life.  Bradley never saw the point of it, opening up a relationship like yours.  That sort of shit probably works fine for couples where both parties are into it, but any casual observer could see how miserable you’d been at the start of it.

You hadn’t really started smiling again until Bob came along, and that is something worth pondering, Bradley thinks.

The problem with Bradley’s sense for impending doom is that he’s rarely wrong.  Almost never.  So ten minutes into the first game of dogfight football, when Jake—who is on Bob’s team—hits the backseater, all hell breaks loose, and all Bradley can think is shit, I’m right again.

*****

One minute, Bob is standing in the sand, watching Harvard drop back and throw a perfect spiral to Coyote.  As his gaze shifts to take in the other ball—currently tucked against Nat’s stomach as she tries to weasel past Javi—Bob’s world suddenly shifts sideways, and he finds himself with his face in the sand before the pain from the blow even registers.

“Wha—” he starts to say, but something presses him down into the sand, someone’s on top of him, and Bob only gets a glimpse of Jake’s red, furious face before a fist connects with his face.  The wire frame of his glasses dig into his cheek, and Bob stops thinking and just reacts.

He jabs his elbow up and connects with Jake’s belly; the man grunts out in surprised pain and ease up enough for Bob to roll out from under him.  He finds his feet, does a quick scan of himself.  Ribs hurt.  Face hurts from the hit and the cut from his glasses.  Nothing catastrophic though.

Jake stands too, but only for a second—then he charges Bob again.  Bob only has a split second to react.  He takes a quick step to the side, manages to dodge being completely tackled, but Jake gets an arm around him and drags him back to the ground.

Bob’s never been much of a fighter.  Aside from backyard squabbles with his brother and cousins when he was a kid, he’s never been in a proper fight until now. 

He probably gets one half-assed blow in for every three of Jake’s.  The man’s fists come fast, steady—timed to the hammering of Bob’s heart, almost—and each new bloom of pain is immediately replaced by a new one. 

It feels like it goes on forever.  It feels like Bob and Jake are the only two people in the world because everything is quiet except for the blows that reverberate through Bob’s skull.  Later on, he’ll realize the entire fight is less than a minute, really just a handful of seconds before the Daggers understand what’s happening and pull Jake away.

Bob lays on the sand, gasping, sun-blinded and stunned in pain.  The only sounds are his own pulse thudding away in his aching skull…but then he hears screaming.  He manages to turn his head, blinks against the spots dancing behind his eyelids.  His vision is blurry—his glasses are long gone—but he knows it’s you running towards him, and even against the royal beating Bob just took, he smiles.

*****

It’s funny how much can change in less than twelve hours.

You’d left Bob the night before, exhausted and confused and unsure of what to do.

Half a day later, here you are:  kneeling on the sand between a bleeding Bob, glaring up at Jake, and the decision is so fucking clear to you.

“What the fuck, Jake?” you yell.  You turn back to Bob; his face is already swelling, and a shallow gash on his cheekbone oozes blood.  You notice a glint in the sand and see his glasses, but when you pluck them from where they are half-buried, you see that they are beyond repair.

“You know what the fuck,” Jake growls back.  He takes a half-step towards you, but Bradley holds him back.  You study Bob, take in each wince as he catches his breath. 

“You okay to stand?” you ask him, your voice low. 

Bob nods, and Nat kneels on the other side of him.  Together, you each get an arm under him and help him stand up.  He staggers for a moment, leans on you, and you brace yourself to take his weight.

Then you turn back to Jake.  His expression is stony:  his eyes cold and impassive as he takes in you and Bob.

“I’m closing our relationship,” he tells you. 

That’s what makes you laugh.  That’s what transforms all the hurt and confusion and self-doubt to a sad sort of hilarity.  You take a sharp inhale at his words, but then breathe them out in punched-out laugh, a shrill giggle that probably makes you sound insane…but once you start laughing, you cannot stop.

You know it sounds hysterical, but it’s been years of this bullshit.  Instead of screaming or crying, you laugh—until tears flow down your face, until your ribs ache from the effort.  Bob has an arm around your waist, and he squeezes your side in a grounding, questioning gesture, but you let it all out.

It’s so fucking stupid.  It’s been stupid for so long.  You’ve been stupid for so long.  Trailing after Jake like a whipped puppy, eating every bit of shit he ever fed you.  And for what?  For a man who never put you first, rarely even put you second, and who only wants to shut down this entire stupid open deal the moment it stops being fun for him.  All those years meant nothing after all, and even if you’ve only ever been Jake Seresin’s girl, it hasn’t amounted to much anyway.

Are you happy with him, honey?

Bob asked you the question only hours ago, and now you know the answer with a certainty you’ve never felt before in your life.

“Oh, Jake.”  You reach up with your free hand and swipe at the tears that have finally slowed as your laughter died down.  You study the faces of the Daggers around you—their expressions range from wariness to confusion, and Bradley has a faint grin—and then you look your boyfriend dead in those gorgeous eyes a shade of greenish-blue you’d never seen in another person.

“Fuck you,” you spit out.  “Forever until the end of time, fuck you.”

He sputters some reply, but it washes over you.  You never note it at all. 

That’s how you finally end your relationship with the only boyfriend you ever had:  walking away from him on a sunny San Diego beach, staggering under the half-dead weight of the man who just took a hell of a beating for doing nothing but caring for you.

*****

Bob is not exactly clear the next few hours.  He never loses consciousness, but he’s not entirely all there either.  Pain makes time skip and drag in a weird way.

There’s a trip to urgent care.  X-rays.  His dislocated nose is reset; a dislocated finger is taped into a splint.  He’s packed in ice packs, given prescription-dose ibuprofen, and sent home.

You and Nat take care of him:  hover at his elbow, keep him steady as he totters from Nat’s car to the urgent care waiting room, then back, then home.

Nat disappears for a while, then returns with a pain pill left over from her wisdom tooth removal surgery.  Together, you and her get Bob cleaned up, tucked into bed.  The pain pill is just starting to pull him under when Nat calls out from the doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m gonna take her over to her place.  Pack a bag or two.  You okay on your own for a bit?”

Bob nods, and he wants to ask for you—he wants to see you, wants to take your hand in his, wants to make sure you’re okay—but his tongue is thick in his mouth, and his eyelids feel like they are weighted down.

He sleeps.  Despite the pain, he sleeps deep and dreamless, and when he surfaces back to wakefulness, the day has ended.  Long shadows creep across his bedroom floor.

He gets up on unsteady feet.  Makes his way to the bathroom, studies his face in the mirror.  He looks like shit, swollen and bruised.

He hears the low murmur of his TV, and when he makes his way to the living room, he finds Nat sitting alone.  She stands up, makes her way over to him.

“How you feeling?” she asks.

Bob chuckles.  “Like I got the shit kicked out of me.”

She helps him sit, then perches on the couch beside him.  He doesn’t even have to ask the question before she answers it for him.

“She’s at my place.  I told her she could crash there as long as she wants.  I have the spare room, and things are…well, they’re a lot right now.”

“She could stay here.”

Nat nods, bites at her lower lip.  “Yeah, she knows.  It’s just complicated.”

Bob shakes his head.  “Seems like it just got a lot less complicated.”  The dark thought crosses his mind then, so he adds, “unless she didn’t break up with him after all.”

“She did.”  Nat sighs, and she turns herself to face him.  “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He doesn’t like the ominous tone in her voice, but he nods.

“You need to let her go,” she says simply.

He’s stunned by Nat’s order for a moment, then he laughs.  It’s ridiculous—after all of this, he’d just let you go?  Now that you’re finally free of Jake?

Nat’s eyebrows furrow together.  “I’m serious, Bob.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be let go.”  It comes out defensive.

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Nat agrees.  “But maybe you need to be the bigger person anyway.”

It takes his pilot a long time to get through to him, but in the end, Bob sees the sad wisdom of what Nat is trying to say.  They talk for hours—interrupted only long enough to order food, then eat—and then they talk more.

Nat understands your situation as well as he does.  Maybe she understands it better, even.  She points out what everyone knows—you and Jake, your long history together—but then she adds more that Bob never knew, bits and pieces gleaned during girl-talk at the Hard Deck, then a flood of intel freely given during the past few hours as the two of you tended to Bob.

“They grew up in a small town in Texas,” she explains.  “I grew up in a similar sort of place.  Towns like that, they aren’t democracies.  They are some weird fiefdom system, and people like Jake and his family are at the top of the heap.  Jake’s dad owns a Chevy dealership, you know?  His mom was the county fair queen.  They live in this big, sprawling ranch and just rule the town.  Then comes along your girl, and she’s from a middle-of-the-road sort of family.  Nothing spectacular.  But Jake noticed her, and a guy like him noticing a girl like her…that’d be like me turning down a date with a prince, Bob.  She was so young, and everyone around her was telling her how lucky—how blessed—she was.  Of course it warped her thinking.  She was just a dazzled kid, and by the time she started to wise up, she’d invested years into her relationship with him.”

“I get it.”  He lifts his hands, helpless, then lets them drop.  “So I’m too late either way.”

“No.”  Nat reaches out and puts her hand on his knee, pats him gently.  “Not too late.”

“Then what?  Let her go, then what?”

“Then you do like the cliché says.  If you love her, let her go.  If she comes back to you, then you know she’s yours.”

Bob shakes his head.  He wants to disagree, wants to make Nat understand how he feels with you, another cliché:  how he feels like a complete person.  Not that he is missing pieces and you’re there to shore up the missing parts.  It’s harder to describe, the calm that washes over him when you’re with him.  A charged calm, a paradox, because he feels like he can finally relax, knowing he’s found his person, but he also feels a jolt of energy because he’s found his person and wants to face each and every adventure with you.

“You have to give her time and space to be alone.  To learn who she is without Jake fucking Seresin jerking her strings.  She’s never been alone, Bob.  Doesn’t she deserve a chance to find out who she is?  Who she might be?”

His voice, when he finds it, comes out rough-edged, a croak.  “What if she doesn’t come back to me?”

Nat’s hand back on his knee, bracing him.  “Then you’ll still always be the man who broke Jake’s spell over her,” she replies.  “And that will always count for a whole fucking lot.”

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Less Commonly Recced Authors!

This week, we have less common authors! Check under the cut for 8 fics written by authors who aren't frequently featured and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

For my Love Lies Patiently by Xhorhaus (13596, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: panic attacks

An exploration of Caleb and Essek's relationship, throughout and after the campaign, and how they came to love each other.

Reccer says: Gorgeous and a wonderful look at their changing dynamics

what the poets could not grasp by principessa (2946, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Essek and Caleb spend the day together, and then spend the night together.

Reccer says: Soft, lovely and very sweet.

Ashkeeper, or Urn by darundik (66476, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Arranged Marriage

Essek and Caleb are political enemies sent to survive in the Ashkeeper Peaks alone. Nothing is supposed to grow there and yet they manage to make something flourish.

Reccer says: This whole fic is stunning. The setting, the writing, the characterization. A very poetic kind of fic, that will captivate your brain completely.

the large aggregate of little things by quanshi (burningdarkfire) (3206, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Three times Caleb and Essek get ready together.

Reccer says: Lovely prose, and so very soft

Paper, Ink by aeli_kindara (14589, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The wizards venture into Aeor, as their relationship grows, Caleb shares his past with Essek as he reckons with his decision of whether to use the T-Dock and the grief that comes with it.

Reccer says: A fic I keep coming back to! Beautifully written with fantastic prose and characterisation. By far one of my favourite shadowgast fics out there!

Dancing Cheek to Cheek by soot_and_salt (3871, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is a prodigy at dancing but he is tired of it. Caleb Widogast brings a little bit of joy into his world.

Reccer says: A lovely modern AU, very sweet and heartwarming.

The Chrysalis You Cannot Keep by Foxtrot66 (39219, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: Major Character Death

It has been 20 years since Caleb's death. In Shadycreek Run a young half-elf life gets turned upside down by nightmarish memories.

Reccer says: Beautifully written, very emotional, and amazing art!

The Purr-ent Trap by Justnap (2443, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek doesn't have a cat. He just has a stray that he feeds, grooms, and now lives in his house. Caleb works at the local pet store and helps him out.

Reccer says: The most adorable and fluffiest thing I've read in ages

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with character studies!

[thewertsearch]

EB: who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they? […] EB: couldn't i do it? EB: i am apparently immortal, because of this god tier business, so the bomb probably would not kill me! CG: OK, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THERE'S A REMOTE POSSIBILITY THAT GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO SAVE ALL OF REALITY WOULD COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH?

I’m still not convinced that Jack’s a reality-level threat.

Let's be honest; the majority of the kids' intel is ultimately derived from Scratch, and Scratch's primary goal is to summon Lord English. It seems a lot more likely to me that English is the reality-buster in the equation, and Jack is just a convenient scapegoat. Remember, Rose pressed Scratch on this exact question, and his argument for why Jack was the larger threat was very shaky.

Additionally, this entire Green Sun situation is starting to seem a little suspect. I originally thought that Scratch was engineering its destruction in order to destroy Snowman, but it's clear now that Slick will be ending her life in a much more direct manner. I guess Scratch could have multiple kill-Snowman plans – redundancy is smart, after all – but his omniscience should tell him which plan will succeed. As far as he's concerned, redundancy is, uh, redundant.

My point is that Scratch clearly doesn’t need to destroy the Sun to summon English. In fact, doing so seems exclusively bad for English, because it will deprive him of a powerful First Guardian minion. What's the deal here?

CG: JADE'S DREAM SELF IS DEAD TOO, SO SHE'S OUT. OR TO BE MORE SPECIFIC, HER DREAM SELF IS AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL DOG WHO WENT OFF WHIMPERING SOMEWHERE. I'M PRETTY SURE SHE WILL BE COMPLETELY USELESS.

Speaking of First Guardians, Jadesprite definitely has some important role to play here. She’s the most powerful hero on the board by far, and the only thing holding her back is her own mental state, which is sure to change eventually. That's what mental states do.

CG: I'VE TRIED TO TELL HER THAT HER SPRITE SELF IS PROBABLY NOWHERE NEAR AS DESPICABLE AS SHE'S MAKING OUT WITH HERSELF TO BE. CG: I MEAN CG: MAKING HERSELF OUT TO BE. […] EB: what i am getting from this, aside from the possibility that jade may or may not have kissed dog jade at some point, is that neither of them will be able to help with the bomb plan.

LMAO

See, this is what I was getting at earlier. John's a surprisingly perceptive guy, so I'm sure he knows that something's happened to Vriska. He's just trying not to think about it.

[wordupinc]

Check out our October 2024 schedule Yom Teruah will be on Wednesday, October 2 at 7PM Livestream only Yom Kippur will be on Saturday, October 12 at 10AM Livestream only Sabbath Worship will be Saturday, October 19 at 10AM will be a Flashback Livestream Sukkot Wednesday, October 16 at 7PM Livestream only and our Feast Gathering will be on Sunday, October 20 in Iselin NJ

For details go https://www.wordupinc.org/ or sign up for our emailing list or text WORDUP to 40691

Or call us at 877 967-3871 and give us your address and we will mail you a flyer.

[ellenya]

One day, one rhyme- Day 3871

Herbivorous ungulate beast

With thick skin and one horn at least

On earth’s satellite’s lunar dune:

A rhino sitting on the moon.

[xenopoem]

introducción: Steven Craig Hickman… INFIERNO: Charlene Elsby… GANGLIOS SÍNODICOS: N. Casio Poe… Parámetro "3:3871": Thomas Huntington… Desvalido sol que solo pone sombras: Francisco Jota-Pérez… Zigzag: Germán Sierra… SALPICADURAS DEL ESCÁNER: David Roden… Pornografía Posthumana: Kenji Siratori…

[tiniestgemini]

wieiad 19th Feb

green smoothie 135, coffee 18, cauliflower & chickpea salad 581

total: 734

steps: 3871

water: 2000

[carpentergirl]

A Few More Minutes

Sam and Tara get trapped by Ghostface... Probably not the best time for Tara to have an Asthma Attack.

Author’s notes: I was inspired by @autism-swagger post about Tara’s asthma in scream 6 kinda outlined this.

This is my first time writing so idk if its anything people will like so good luck ig.

I probably dragged this out too much.

Just Sam and Tara being well Sam and Tara. 

Word count: 3871

: )

Sam and Tara had left their apartment rather early in the morning. More like Sam had a plan to get out of the house before Tara woke up. But in usual Samantha Carpenter style things never went as planned and Tara was miraculously up already and Sam acquired her presence anyway.

She didn’t mind her company of course, she just didn’t want to pull Tara down the path she was heading. But Tara being well- Tara would not take no for an answer and rushed to get ready.

Moving to New York was not the fresh start Sam had hoped it would be, Rather her reputation or persevered reputation preceded her to the big city where everyone had their opinions. Some were sympathetic to the young woman who had tragically been caught up in a legacy bestowed upon by her estranged father who died before she was even born. While others believed that Sam was Billy reincarnated and was meant to finish what he had started all those years ago, much believing in the story that Richie and Amber had tried to create.

Sam knew little to nothing about her father besides of course the conspiracy and movies about him. That wasn’t enough for her. Of course she didn't set out to miraculously find out he was a great guy and was just misunderstood as most cliche villains would be- she knew that wasn’t the truth. Her father was no villain, he was true evil but despite that and even if she hated to admit it- he was still a prominent part of her and she was desperate for some identity outside of ghostface.

Tara during the transition was- well, again, Tara. She didn’t say much about moving. She didn’t say much about anything as a matter of fact. She was just happy to once again be with her sister. After basically fending for herself ever since Sam left she was having a hard time adjusting to having a helicopter parent. She would never admit it but having Sam be there for her, especially when she didn’t want her to be, was something she could never find the words to thank her for. Tara didn’t deal too much with her past in the new city. She didn’t want to live in the past. It was too painful to remember the town of Woodborough. Everything she had gone through and all before the ghostface attacks. She’d rather forget it all. Some people were curious but rarely cruel, or maybe she never gave them the chance to be, Tara avoided people like the plague. The only time you would find Tara in any social situation is if she was about 3 shots too gone which is what led to Sam’s alleged stalking.

But at the end of the day Tara would always be with Sam, as long as Sam would have her of course.

Even with that being said Tara found it extremely difficult to be blindly led by her older sister into a psycho’s lair. Yes, Tara knew she asked for this when she volunteered herself as Sam’s companion for the day and yes Tara could at any point leave and go back to the safety of their apartment but she’s made it this far right?

“I don’t know, maybe we should go back home?” Tara sheepishly suggested her feet planted firmly on the sidewalk outside the abandoned movie theater. She knew why they were there, she knew Sam wanted answers, she just wished the answers didn't have to be so creepy.

“T, I told you not to come, I’ll call Kirby to come and get-” “No. You’re not going alone.” The girls bantered walking up to the entrance.

The lair was exactly the same as the first time they were there. When Gale had brought them looking for insight on who the newest masked freaks were. To no avail, it was just a ganky collection of Ghostface memorable. Pieces from the killers and victims. An unsettling tomb of whatever screwed up legacy Billy had started.

Tara knew Sam had been itching to come back, alone, she saw the way Sam gawked at her father’s robe, the knife he had used to murder people. She saw Sam’s need for answers and Tara knew she didn’t understand and she knew couldn’t understand which is why she didn’t want to get in between Sam and the answers she was looking for.

They crept their way through the shrine and Tara started to get uneasy. Everything about this gave her the untimely shiver of impending doom. It was almost as if every step brought her closer to the end of her being. She slid her hands over the display cases filled with bloody artifacts to some infamous murders and innocent victims, who, just as herself, had been brutally attacked. She was surprised that nothing of hers ended up behind the glass walls to be shown off like a trophy.

At the head of the room were the costumes, the same ones that made Tara shutter at the sight of even if it was nothing more than a costume at a party. Her eyes fell on Amber’s. Someone who had not crossed the oh so complicated mind of Tara Carpenter in a long time. A weighted rope had wrapped itself tightly around Tara’s heart and given into gravity. She didn’t want to think about Amber, the worst part of Woodsborough.

She noticed Sam in the center once again examining her father’s robe, she just couldn’t understand any of this, and quite frankly she didn't want to. It was becoming all too much for Tara.

“Sam, I don't feel well.” she said taking two puffs of her rescue inhaler, cursing herself for not using her orange one earlier in the morning, the one that prevented asthma attacks.

“Okay, Just a few more minutes and we'll get out of here.” Sam said concern glistening in her eyes but she was too close to turn around now- surly tara would be fine if they stuck around for a few minutes more.

Tara nodded, agreeing that a few more minutes wouldn’t kill her, she walked around the theater trying to find more theatrical attributes rather than the homicidal ones she was far too familiar with. She wandered past the wretched museum into the old concessions rooms looking at the abandoned candy trying to pinpoint a possible year of extinction for the theater.

She ran her fingers through the dust again causing her to cough again. Tara should’ve known better than to be stirring up dust when she was already at a  disadvantage for the day.

The youngest Carpenter had been looking at an old movie’s reel, trying to make sense of the little pictures in the frame holding them up to the light. She heard something behind her fall and she jumped to attention slowly turning around. To see absolutely nothing.

I'm losing my mind. Tara thought to herself, after all the shit she’s been through, she thinks it finally got to her.

And got to her it indeed did. The next time Tara heard a suspicious noise she once again contributed it to her new found psychosis and hallucinations. Until it was no longer a hallucination she could write off but instead a menacing Ghostface who had grabbed her from behind.

Tara let out an ungodly scream before laying a blow to the reaper’s stomach with her elbow and kicking at their knee. In which she was freed enough to take a running start and right into Sam’s arms.

The two  Carpenter sisters now found themselves one again being chased down by a robed figure. They raced to navigate the halls of the abandoned movie theater trying to escape.

Tara was not faring well to begin with and definitely not now with this whole running situation. She miserably tried to keep up with Sam running- stumbling was more like it. Her breathing was unsteady, panic glistened over her as she tried to keep up. While they had only been running a few minutes her anxiety coming face to face with a reaper once again was an accelerant for disaster and was taking a toll on her.

“Sam” the younger sister gasped, reaching out for the taller girl “I-”  Tara coughed.

Sam turned to the smaller girl chopping her step, Tara was hunched down at the waist, hands on her knees as she tried to stabilize her breathing.

This was all her own fault Tara thought to herself, if she wasn’t so instant on going then she would’ve remembered her inhaler this morning. Then again if she hadn’t been there then Sam would’ve been with Ghostface alone and without warning.

Everything burned. Her lips were dry and her mouth felt chalky, usually meaning it was time for an inhaler dose and possibly even something stronger. Her throat was on fire as if it was trying to burn a way to breathe for her. Sam grabbed her wrist pulling the girl with her as she heard the clatter of Ghost Face getting closer to them.

The next time the girls came to a stop was about 20 seconds later when Sam felt the tug of Tara hitting the ground, before she had only felt the staggering of the smaller girl which was enough for her to keep Tara in tow.

“Tara!” Sam yelled for her attention as the youngest carpenter grasped at her chest in a desperate attempt to let air in.

“T, calm down. You gotta try to calm down.” Sam rubbed circles into the girl's back while trying to pull her back up and failing Tara’s legs struggling to support her.

“You can’t out run me forever” Tara’s eyes found her sister’s, filled with tears and pure fear across her face. For the first time Sam was really forced to take in her appearance. Her lips tinted white with sweaty glistening skin over the color she had lost making her look ghostly.

Sam tugged Tara up yet again, this time taking the little breath she had left. She had to do something, there was no way Sam would let GhostFace get to Tara. Forcing the smaller girl to her feet and starting running once again, as fast as she possibly could she was basically dragging the girl who could only be heard by the rapsiness of her gasps. Then she spotted it, the storage room in which she had earlier caught Chad and Tara in successfully cockblocking them… again. She basically threw the younger girl in the room and barricaded the door with a shelving unit. Surveying it for anything useful as a means for defense with no luck.

Tara’s face had taken on an unnatural tone. She choked on her coughs. No matter how hard she tried she simply could not get air in. It seemed impossible.

Her mind was panicked. She could not go out like this. So miserably choking on her own inability to properly breathe. She could not die running from the fool who thought it was a good idea to dress up as her ex girlfriend, her sister’s father, a complete psycho.

She did not survive Amber’s attack to die like this. She did make this far to die because she couldn’t remember one day’s dose of medication. She couldn’t die. She wasn’t ready.

“Your inhaler” Sam questioned as Tara hadn’t already thought of that. Sam patted her pockets and then checked  the younger girl’s she knew Tara just had. She watched her put it in her pocket. She never left her house without it. And the extra one was in Sam’s backpack- of course the one she had tossed at the sound of Tara encountering Ghostface. Sam’s face dropped as she realized the inhaler simply wasn’t there, she grabbed her phone to use as a flashlight hoping it had just fallen out when she pushed the younger girl in. No such luck.

The stutter in Tara’s chest caught Sam’s attention again. Making her give up hope on the inhaler and resort to an escape plan. She pulled out her phone once again and found the previous texting chat.

Core Four

Sam: Trapped in the theater, Ghostface has us pinned in the storage closet.

Chad: We’re two blocks away, Mindy is on the phone with 911

Sam: Tara is bad- Asthma Attack- please hurry

Sam breathed a few moments of relief before the shuddering of her sister demanded her attention.

“Okay Tara, hold on a few more minutes.” Sam cooed, pulling her in close.

Sam could hear Ghostface clattering around in the halls looking for his next victims.

“Tara, Tara, Tara..” The voice menaced.

“Making me pick up after you, did your mother not teach you to pick up after yourself- oh right.” Tara was barely able to keep the focus on anything but her desperate need for air. She barely even processed what the menace was taunting her for.

Sam tried to keep Tara calm as the threats got louder.

“Well, at least I know you won’t get very far.” He threatened. Almost as if on cue Tara had let out a violent cough causing her body to shake. Sam quickly covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound and not give away their location.

Tara was fading in and out; she could only see the outlines of the things around her, and her ears started to ring on top of the pounding of her heart instead of processing the sounds around her. SHe felt the strong arms around her body and the hands covering her mouth. She needed air and these hands in her way were not productive.

Sam cringed at her primal impulse to pull her arms away from her face.

The innate instinct to protect her airway.

Sam only held her tighter stiffening up against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Sam kept whispering in her sister’s ear as she clawed at her. She felt Tara’s heart on her forearm, beating so hard it threatened to burst out of her chest and the way Tara’s breaths were pulling on her palms erratically and the exhaled air making them feel sweaty.

All Sam could do was cry.

She never wanted to hurt Tara, She wanted nothing more than to let her go and comfort her, but she knew if she did that they’d be moments from discovery and they were at a disadvantage.

I’m so sorry was all she could say before it was a blubbering mess.

A few more seconds had passed Tara weakly pried and then dropped her arms to her sides. Her head dropped back into Sam’s shoulders and Sam felt the smaller girl’s weight fall into her. She slowly slid down the wall now sitting with Tara hoisted up between her legs. Slowly moving her hands away from Tara’s face and pulled her in closer, putting her head to her chest- hoping she would still hear her heart. Which she did. She noticed her blood-tinged lips and Sam’s hands. She sobbed as Tara continued to take uneven breaths and let out quiet gasps.

“I’m so sorry baby girl.” The guilt ate at her. It was a normal occurrence for Sam- knowing that all of this had happened because of her, if she had never found that diary, if she had never confronted her mom, if she never mentioned her real father then Tara would not be suffering the way she was.

They wouldn’t be stuck in a supply closet of a freak’s shrine of psychos.

“Oh Samantha, you thought you could hide from me.” Ghostface teased and was extremely close to the sound of it. Oh how badly she needed the others right now, there was no way to get out, and no way to protect Tara.

She heard the crunch of plastic outside the door “Oops” Ghostface muttered undoubtedly crushing the younger girl’s inhaler that he had discovered earlier. Sam slowly slid out from under Tara gently lowering her to the ground. She grabbed the rod she had found in the room earlier, it wasn’t much of anything, mostly likely a discarded mop or broomstick. But it was a last-ditch effort for Sam to defend herself. She positioned herself on the other side of the door waiting for the menace to step in.

She heard the doorknob jingle. Still blocked by the shelves.

Sam was panicking. Her ears started ringing and all she could do was prepare herself for yet another dance with the devil. She tried to remain focused on the now pushing door; it wasn't until the shelf was knocked over that Sam was zoned in and swung her “weapon”.

“Woah,” he said, catching the rod before it made contact with him.

“This is- um Inventive,” he said finally entering the room. Sweaty.

“Chad?” Sam questioned coming down from the adrenaline that had instinctively been released in her system.

She rushed over to Tara.

“Is he gone?” She questions pulling Tara’s limp body up from the ground and struggling to support her.

“I think so.” Chad said, quick to help Sam pick Tara up.

He reached for his pocket uncovering an orange inhaler. Which Tara clearly hadn’t used this morning if Chad had it. She looked down and saw the blue one crushed to pieces in the hall and shook her head.

“It’s too late for that- we have to get her to a hospital.” Sam rushed him out the door. Mindy came running up to them.

“There’s no one here” She huffed out trying to catch her breath and for the first time Sam had heard the sirens all around the building. The police must’ve scared them off so she tried to rationalize.

Chad carried Tara bridal style out of the building and straight to the stretcher. Tara was ghostly white and her lips started to tint blue. Chad shuddered at how lifeless she felt in his arms.

Sam dodged the police and reporters who had gathered around asking her what had happened.

She hopped into the ambulance as the paramedics worked on his sister urgently.

Sam sat impatiently in the waiting room of the ER. Chad and Mindy there, somehow Kirby and Gale also made it there. Honestly it was all a haze to Sam.

“Tara Carpenter.” The Doctor called out to the room of eagerly waiting family members, Sam was up in an instant.

“I'm her sister.” She begged the Doctor for him to say that Tara was okay.

“Tara went into respiratory distress earlier, as a result of her asthma, luckily we don’t believe she suffered any permanent damage to her brain and she shouldn’t have any long lasting effects but we definitely want to keep her overnight to be sure. Just a few more minutes and we could’ve been having a very different conversation.” The doctor explained. A wave of relief washed over the group. This wasn’t Tara’s first close call but it was definitely the closest in a long time.

“But the blood” Sam mentioned to the doctor, as she raised her hands as proof. “X-rays are clear, just some popped capillaries from all the coughing.” He added placing a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulders.

The older girl rushed to Tara’s room, her sister set up a heart monitor and oxygen though she was steadily breathing again. Sam stood frozen at the foot of her bed. Kirby made her way into the room leaving the others in the hallway.

“Sam…” She started. “She’s okay. You saved her.”

“I didn’t fucking save her Kirby, I almost killed her.” Sam shook her head. Her palms striking her temples. Still stained with some of Tara’s blood.

“I put my hands over her mouth. I could feel her fighting me. I suffocated her.” Sam cried, pulling her hands into view.

“You did not suffocate her, you saved her. You did what you had to do to save her.” Kirby pulled Sam’s hands down and held them. She pulled her into her arms hearing what had happened in that room for the first time.

Kirby had basically adopted the Carpenter duo as her own, she made them her responsibility even if they all liked to pretend that Sam and Tara had everything under control.

It was easy for Kirby to come in and help. It was easy for Sam to let herself go in the agent’s presence. It was even easier for Tara to relate to Kirby and accept the advice that she would offer even if it was the same advice Sam would suggest- It must’ve sounded different coming from the older girl.

“She didn’t even want to be there, she asked me to leave and I- I made her stay” Sam continued to cry into her ‘older sisters’ chest.

It wasn’t long until Sam composed herself and put on her brave face for the rest of the group and they all gathered around in Tara’s room. Sam next to her bed of course rubbed circles into the smallest girl’s hand.

Tara had regained some color, still much paler than her usual complexion, but better than before. Her lips were once again pink and she had lost the gleam of sweat. All to the group's relief.

No one dared to leave even as the early hours of the morning threatened to trap them in the hospital.

Soon the silence was broken by Chad offering himself to get chips and snacks from the vending machines which he would later regret because

A) he used all of his cash

and B) Girls are too ‘particular’.

The group shared jokes and conversations trying to move on from the earlier events and living more in the moments they were all together. They had grown quite the roar almost as if they were in the sister’s apartment and it was a casual Friday night. Arguing over what M&M flavor tasted the best with Sam reluctant to admit she thought they all tasted the same because- well didn’t they?

First there was a cough. It came from the smallest member of the group. They all stopped mid debate, assessing the situation. They watched as she stirred in her bed sitting up frantically and coughing “SAM” she yelled between her coughs.

“Tara” Sam grabbed her. “It’s okay, breathe, you’re alright” Sam cooed.

Tara took in her environment no longer in a dark dusty theater but rather in a bright antiseptic room surrounded by the worried faces of her friends, Family.

She took a deep breath in, she was sore but it didn’t burn, she was able to breath without a fight. She relaxed into Sam’s touch.

“Jesus christ I never want to do that again.” She chuckled. After a pause of her remembering the earlier events. Everyone laughed.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.” Kirby grabbed the girl’s knee in support.

They continued the night moving onto the next candy flavor they could debate about. After of course Tara added that the blue M&M is the best tasting one. And Sam could not have been more grateful to hear such ridiculous words come out of her mouth. They were okay, Sam prayed to stay like this at least for a few more minutes.