#duskwood richy x jessy

[duskwood-mc-art]

And this little drawing of Jake and my MC will be the first drawing on this blog.

The screenshots for this situation below:

[jake-s-azaleea]

MC: Oh shoot. MWAF is angry.

Jessy: How can you tell?

Jake: I am no person reader but I think you can read him by his hands. Like right now, he's holding a gun. I don't think that means he's happy to see us.

[mwonie]

No one.

Literally Dan:

[giu-world]

Richy: I've done a lot of dumb stuff

Dan: I've witnessed a lot of the dumb stuff

Jessy: I've recorded a lot of the dumb stuff

Thomas: I've joined on a lot of the dumb stuff

MC & Jake: WE'VE TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING A LOT OF THE DUMB STUFF!

[duskwoodgirl4life]

I don't know why I never realised this the very first time I played duskwood Richy was the only one that knew the others had gone to that cabin. Why didn't I see it then or maybe I guess I didn't really want to because the thought of him being behind it still hurts.

[twxddle]

Richy, Richy, Richy... bad bad boy.

[miss-celestia13]

An Arsonist’s Anguish

Richy’s Lament - A Duskwood One Shot

A dark, angsty exploration into Richy’s character as he sets the stage for his death. There is no happy ending. Just some hope that another soul made it out of the mine as it burns. Crossposted on Ao3.

Trigger Warnings are below the line. Please check them.

TW: Suicide, Self Hatred, Hallucinations, and thoughts/descriptions of Death. Read at your own risk. I tried not to be too graphic, but you will know what’s happening.

Richy would never see the sun rise again.

The ghosts of all the beautiful things he killed to protect his secrets haunted his dragging, stumbling steps as he traversed the mine and ignored the cameras he installed. Gasoline poured and splashed from the canister he held as he wove through tunnels and gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm.

It was nothing compared to the emotional torture he felt inside. His thoughts were a tempest raging with the violence of a cyclone. Every destructive gust ripped through the fragile edifices of his grip on reality.

Within the labyrinth of his mind, self-loathing chewed on his soul like a pack of feral beasts tearing at the tender flesh of their fallen prey. Each bite drew forth burgundy rivers of desolation, self-condemnation, and unyielding fury. Blending with the physical aches until he couldn’t tell them apart

His arm throbbed as he ignored the yelling in his mind. Fucking Dan. Dan, who gave him a gun?! Oh, what an idiot! He scuppered all Richy’s plans and left him scrambling to end it before anyone else got hurt. Ensure nothing remains but ash.

Rivers of cold sweat streamed down his grey face as he held his injured arm over his stomach so he wouldn’t bang it into the rough wall. He wanted to punch the stone to take his mind off it. The bottle of pain meds he stole from his mother rattled in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk taking them yet.

His breathing roasted his throat, but his entire body shivered as though an icy glacier engulfed him. The persistent tremble in his body intensified with every labored step.

The combined weight of his physical and emotional agony was an anchor on his back, dragging his broken spirit beneath tumultuous waves, where the agony of drowning and being hammered from all sides echoed through the depths of himself.

It didn’t feel like any of it was unfair. The thirst was the worst thing. He kept smacking his lips together, attempting to inspire some moisture, but his tongue remained bone dry and coated in the remnants of bitter blood rust.

The blood he’d lost stained his skin and the stone as it dripped through the filthy dressing he tried and failed to use as a tourniquet. Everything felt like it happened to someone else. Something otherworldly piloted his body from the inside.

Like some demon possessed him, guiding him down depraved, treacherous paths, and the priest hadn’t arrived in time to exorcise him.

And he’d done it to himself. Every choice he’d made since kidnapping Hannah, it had felt like suicide in slow motion.

He marooned himself on an island surrounded by vipers of his own creation.

Now, the only option to set himself free was fire. It would hurt, he thought, and his stomach wrenched to the side, almost splitting in two as he dreaded it so strongly.

And death. There was a liberating freedom in death. A broken sob tore through his clenched teeth as he thought of Jessy, the emotions he harbored for her, and everything he had never deserved to have with her.

She was a shot of adrenaline after years of lethargy.

So many of his favorite memories revolved around her and their silly inside jokes. He’d used his closeness to her to torment and stalk her. Terrorized her and her friends. She would never forgive him. Her smiling face, her flaming hair, and desire for a life of adventure had made his miserable existence worth living.

She would forget him one day, but never forgive him. He was a coward. An idiot. He’d let them all believe a masked myth was chasing them.

The only masked freak after them was their own friend.

His megawatt smile, stupid jokes, and constant upbeat attitude despite the shitstorm life rained on him had been the heaviest disguise of his brief life. They’d all bought it.

Hook, line, and fucking sinker. None thought to check beneath that smile. Now, it had twisted and transformed into a permanent snarl. If they paid attention, they would have found the rot and ruin underneath his cheerful demeanor. None of his friends had stopped to think about just how stressed he was. How much he had to carry for his family and Hannah—screw her. She was party to his worst decision.

She caused it.

Her wanting to sacrifice herself, him, and Amy to clear her conscience, betrayal. Betrayal was a dagger Hannah concealed in a cloak of mutual trust and unspoken promises to take their secrets to the grave. That blade had appeared suddenly and without warning, piercing the walls of his shriveled heart.

Half of him wished he’d killed her while he’d had her under his control. End the threat, leave her body to decompose in the mine.

No one came here. He’d made sure of it. Everything might—well, it was too late now. She was safe in the hands of Alan Bloomgate. Hannah, perfect, beautiful fucking Hannah.

He hated her. He blamed Hannah. But it was Amy who he blamed the most. Richy blamed everyone but himself for too long. He knew that. And now he would pay the price for it.

He’d already staged his death. Now he just had to commit.

The cloying scent of gasoline infiltrated his nose, thickening in his raw throat, and the empty metal cannister fell from his weak fingers. The thunderous clanging as it bounced and came to a stop worsened the headache he’d had for the last few weeks.

It pounded in time with his thudding heart. Each pulse pushed yet more blood out of the wound in his heavy, aching arm. It tingled and sparked with fiery pain with every paranoid twitch as he glanced behind him, sure he heard footsteps chasing him down.

He gave himself a shake when only his shadow approached. It looked much bigger to him now. Sinister and spreading to encompass the entirety of him.

It had taken him over long ago, and at last, he accepted it. It was too late to beat it back. He’d embraced it. Its hug was gelid and dragged him down, down, down. The shadow had always been in him; his choices had brought it to life, and it was time to eliminate it so it wouldn’t harm anyone else.

If his last victim was to be himself, it would end on his terms.

His last words had been a confession and an apology. To Jessy, and his friends, to the unwitting stranger he’d dragged into this mess, and to himself. His conscience was far from clear, and his reckoning awaited him amongst the flames he would soon ignite.

The cave in which he’d chosen as his tomb would remain safe from the flames, but the poison smoke would choke him. An intangible noose, as he couldn’t bring himself to tie a rope. He shuffled inside and loosed a long breath that felt more like a death rattle.

His stinging eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness encroaching him on all sides as he reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand, and pulled out the zippo lighter he’d stuffed inside days before. He’d always suspected.

Deep inside, Richy had expected that this was how it ended. The cold silver metal warmed a little in his clammy hand as his thumb stroked over the Garage’s logo and wished he had said goodbye to his parents before he gave himself to the fire.

It was best they learned with the world. His suicide letter would speak for him and he prayed it would ensure his family didn’t suffer for his actions.

Naïveté had always been his downfall.

Before he set his ultimate act into motion, Richy took his phone out of his jean pocket and flicked the flashlight on. The bright beam of white light assaulted his eyes and created a flurry of moving shadows. The skittering of tiny claws on loose stone racing away from him painted a cruel smirk on his mouth as he cast the light around the small cavern and found what he was looking for.

A grubby black backpack sat against the grey rock wall, covered in dirt, blood, and guilt as he scuttled over to it. He unzipped it and pulled out the almost empty bottle of water he’d been rationing for days.

After fishing the bottle of medication out of his pocket, he struggled to open them both, and cried out as his jerky movements irritated his wounded arm. It took five very long minutes to get the pills out. The light from his phone shuddered as he set it down to count the pills.

He’d chosen the strongest ones his mother had. One knocked her out for half a day, and he wanted to numb himself as much as he could before the smoke smothered or flames devoured him. They were heavy on his tongue as he tossed back a fistful of the chalky tablets and chased them down with the last of his precious water.

For a moment, they got lodged in his throat, his mouth flooded with saliva and his eyes prickled with fresh tears.

He couldn’t even kill himself right. Everything he did just failed in spectacular fashion.

He was a monster of his own making, and only he could slay it. He swallowed, compulsive and dry, ignoring the hot flashes creeping up his neck as the painkillers scraped down his throat and into his hollow stomach.

Richy dropped to his knees and crawled over to the wall, and slumped back onto it. Paper crinkled in his inside coat pocket as he shifted to get comfortable. He had about an hour before the full effects of the medication set in. He would light the fire once the gnawing, eroding ache in his chest and arm dulled.

Until then, he sat with his thoughts, his splintering sanity, and cursed himself. Cursed Duskwood and the predator the town had forced him to transfigure himself into.

The weight of hopelessness hung around Richy’s neck like a noose pulled tight, squeezing the light of life from his eyes.

It was a suffocating darkness that swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the biting tang of despair on his tongue. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of broken glass, cutting deeper with every huffing exhale.

The silence that echoed in his soul was a relentless scream, a haunting, deafening reminder of the emptiness that consumed him.

“I should’ve told someone,” Richy said in a whisper.

The words bounced softly off the rock, a harmony of regret.

He twitched as it fell silent, mouth furling and eyes glazing over as he listened to the racket in his head.

All you had to do was hand yourself in. You could have avoided all of this.

What do you think will happen to your family? They’ll live happily ever after in the town you terrorized?

Do you honestly think your pathetic letter will save them?

The slippery voice of his own darkness broke into a baleful laugh. It made the hair in his nape rise and stand stiff. He shuddered, thrashing his head and gritting his teeth until they squeaked.

“I tried. I always tried. But I’m a failure. I’ve always been a failure. I can make it right. It’s the only way.” He muttered as the disembodied voice agreed.

Make it right? Ha! You think you can wash away the stain of your idiocy?

You’re tainted.

Forever marked by your wrong choices, Richy.

Redemption? You make me laugh.

Redemption is a fairytale, a delusion you’re desperately clinging to.

It is so far beyond your reach…

Richy’s voice was a growl as he said, “No, redemption isn’t my goal. I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused, but I can end it before anyone else gets hurt. I can make sure the world knows it was me.”

The derisive laughter of his demons chafed at his skull as if their talons were scratching their unspeakable names into the bone.

You’re a lost cause. A testament to all your failures.

Each step you take is a step closer to the abyss of self condemnation.

There’s no way out.

Your sacrifice won’t save your soul.

“I accept that!” Richy roared, spittle flying from his chapped lips as he panted like a wounded beast.

“My death might be the only way to atone for all I’ve done. I don’t care what comes after that. But my family won’t suffer because of me. Not any more.”

The voice in his head made a sound of agreement before it crooned his worst fears.

Yes, your death is the ultimate penance.

Your final act of contrition for the havoc you’ve so selfishly wrought.

Then again, have you considered the aftermath?

Your family will endure your actions. Long after you’re gone. Their suffering will echo until they, too, shuffle off the mortal coil.

Searing fiery agony ripped through Richy’s heart. It felt as though someone had taken a knife, heated it up over a fire until it glowed red hot, and then plunged it into his chest. The scent of burned flesh and molten iron filled his nose. The sensation felt so real to him.

His hand clawed at his jacket over his pounding heart, as if to pull the blade free, but his fingers met only dirty fabric.

“They won’t! They won’t! They won’t! I’ve made sure of it. This isn’t their burden to bear!” He yelled, voice laced with an anguish that made his body convulse as rivulets of salt descended his bared teeth.

Helplessness stole over him as his demons taunted and chuckled in a scornful manner.

You should have thought about that before you started donning the guise of an ancient legend.

Idiot.

Weak.

Pathetic!

Your existence is a festering wound that poisons all in your vicinity.

Embrace the fire.

Let it cleanse all the filth you’ve spread.

But just know, your family will bear the scars of your choices, as they’re carved into their souls for eternity.

Richy sobbed through the agonising sensation weaving through his internal organs. He felt as though someone was weaving his internal organs together with a blunt needle, and they had deliberately coated the thread in salt to prolong his suffering. The increasing pressure in his head demanded an outlet as well.

Everything ached, it bled, and it tore him apart. He was so tired. So tired of trying.

This mine, this town, and all it had demanded of him, he was done with it all. He wanted it to burn. His desire was for them all to suffer, just as he had for a decade. He hadn’t dug just one grave that night. No, there had been one accident and four graves waiting for them. They’d just seen theirs too late.

The forest had never forgotten them, though. It had been patient.

That night with Hannah and Amy, it had never ended. It was a living nightmare he had no way out of. Their deaths had simply waited for them to catch up, and even if Hannah could find it in her to exist after all he’d done, he knew she’d died alongside Jennifer and the rest of them.

Ghosts. That’s what they were. He saw it now. There was no point in trying to hold it off anymore.

It was as if the pressure in his head imploded with that thought.

He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings as his mind fragmented and warped, and his tenuous hold on reality slipped from his grasp.

The cave dissolved in his vision. Something at the very core of himself disintegrated with it.

He was somewhere else. Somewhere he had long tried to forget.

It was ten years ago.

Amy was there. As was Hannah.

He held a muddied shovel. The surrounding forest smelled like home, but his blood had turned cold. Jennifer’s lifeless body lay broken and bloodied, the remnants of shock still painted across her lovely features.

Her hair lay in a sanguine halo around her head as Richy set down the shovel, and silently, the trio worked to lift the woman.

Hannah’s sobs blended with his labored breathing, sweat drip, drip, dripped down his sore neck. He’d wanted to report it to the police. Tried to convince them to do so anonymously. But Hannah, in her fright, had convinced him they’d be signing their death warrants.

His family would suffer. It was he who gave her the keys to a client’s car. It was due to be scrapped, yes, but that didn’t make it better. Everyone would boycott his dad’s Garage and now that mom was growing worse, the sickness in her invading her mind, he knew they needed that income more than ever.

All they could do was hide the body, agree never to speak of this night, and give the greatest performances of their lives to ensure no one ever suspected them once word of Jennifer’s vanishing spread through Duskwood. He felt like something inside him was dying.

His throat tightened, mouth flooding with saliva as the urge to vomit overtook his senses. Heat crawled through him as he swallowed a mouthful of acidic bile and looked heavenward as they shuffled to stand at the edge of the crudely dug grave.

The stars overhead mocked them as the foliage and freshly overturned earth disguised the metallic scent of spilled blood and their sour shared guilt.

“Are you sure you can live with this?” He asked as they hesitated to drop Jennifer into the ground.

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, blood staining her teeth she’d bitten so hard, and her leaking eyes wouldn’t settle on anything as she gave a single jerky nod. Richy’s stomach sank, but he turned his gaze to Hannah.

His friend’s grief mottled face would haunt him forever as she said, “What other choice do we have?”

That answer inspired zero confidence, but Richy accepted it as an affirmation, and said, “Okay, on three—1, 2, 3!”

With a slight swing and a wobble, they released their hold on Jennifer and all three screwed their eyes shut as she hit the bottom of the hole with a sickening crunch.

Amy fell to her knees, her shaking hands gripping the loose mud ringing the unmarked grave as she sobbed uncontrollably. Richy could hardly stand to watch her, and was glad when Hannah, who was crying freely herself, hauled her away.

He nodded once as Hannah and Amy embraced, clinging to one another, wordless apologies pouring from them both as Richy retrieved his shovel.

He felt like they were being watched. Paranoia snaked through his mind like a weed he knew would grow out of control. All he could do was start refilling the grave.

The soft sound of metal scooping up damp earth seemed to ring through the forest as he internally shut down. All his emotions, he forced them aside. He locked them in a cage made of lead and lined with explosives. Life would never be the same.

Life would be a method actors dream after this. He knew this would change them at a molecular level and none of them could breathe a word of it once they left this cursed forest.

Richy took the last deep breath he’d ever experience and watched expressionlessly as the earth rained down on Jennifer. The pattering noise reminded him of rain, of tears. Amy cried harder while he diligently worked to cover up their mistakes.

Hannah watched, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Wetness trickled down his cheeks as he slowly returned to the present.

Hannah’s face floated across his vision as the scene fully dissipated, and he found himself back in the cave. Stale air replaced the aroma of the night dark forest, and a thin haze hung over his eyes as a euphoric rush raced through his bloodstream.

He felt as if he was floating and drowning in a sea of deliriousness.

The medication had kicked in. His legs were leaden as his head lolled on his neck as if on a swivel, and there was an odd sensation in his nose, like the smell of a roaring fire, but none had been lit. The bullet wound in his arm still griped. Infection had set in, he thought.

Only death would cure it. The meds would ease his passing.

A synthetic fatigue draped him like a cloak as he blinked blearily at the dancing shadows creeping nearer. His mouth turned so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth, and his breathing grew shallower as the painkillers burned through the aches in his body. Not long now, his mosaic mind kept jumping between the past and present, footsteps and disembodied voices whispered so close and real that he answered one.

“I should have turned myself in, I know.”

“At least we agree on something. ”

A female said. His suddenly too heavy head swung around to find the source, his sluggish heart raced faster and faster as the voice sounded like Jessy’s.

“Jess? Remember the fish? The names I made up? If I could—No—I’m so fucking sorry...” He said. He spoke with a voice threaded with deepest despondency.

“The fish were just another lie. All of it was. Your life ended the night Jennifer did. Was any of it real after that? Anything you said, did you mean any of it?”

His shrunken heart broke irrevocably, the agony radiated through his chest, and filled him with a coldness that would soon embrace all of him.

“I didn’t mean—please—I’m ready to pay for it. No one else will hurt because of me.” He swore vehemently.

Jessy’s spectral laugh, derisive and humorless, taunted him.

“We will hurt. It won’t go away. Your actions caused wounds that will scar us forever. Death is your relief. Living with what you did to us is our grief. Goodbye, Richy.”

Richy cried silently as her voice faded and the full effects of the painkillers turned his bones to jelly. He had to light the fire before he passed out. A coffin was his only way out of this cursed place.

Bracing a hand on the knobby wall, he gradually rose to his feet as rock crumbled under his fingers, and rained to the dusty ground, sweat on his palm mixed with the dirt as he tottered toward the entrance. He thumbed the Zippo open as he panted, jaw clenched and eyes stinging with slaking tears.

Petrol permeated the air. He breathed it in as he flicked the lighter and swayed on weak knees as the tiny flame ignited. In the dim, damp recesses of the mine, shadows waltzed like specters as Richy, face obscured by the glow of the lighter and shadow, dropped the flame with a snap of his wrist into the pool of gasoline.

Flame surged away from him, hissing along in a serpentine trail until it morphed into a living beast starved and hungry for destruction. He stumbled back. The heat was a physical blow as it sucked out the oxygen, and he trembled like a newborn fawn as he dropped to his knees and stared and stared and stared.

Amidst the cavernous depths of the mine, the candescent light of the furious fire cast a macabre ballet of shadows upon the rough-hewn walls, a surreal tableau of light and darkness. Tendrils of flame licked and lapped at the stone, awakening ember-tinged echoes that wavered and flashed like phantoms in the subterranean gloom.

Billowing smoke, an ash ridden shroud, coiled sinuously through the labyrinthine passages. The evidence he had doused in gasoline would soon catch fire. Relief glittered through him at the thought. An acrid perfume of burning wood and charred earth mingled with the metallic scent of ancient minerals, an otherworldly aroma that lingered in his lungs and clung to all his senses.

There was no going back now. Every breath was slower than the last. It felt like he was inhaling lava as the heat singed the soft tissue and hair in his nose.

His weighty eyelids sat at half mast. The tunnel walls seemed to exhale, releasing murmurs of long buried secrets, as if the very mine itself sought to voice its resignation to the all-consuming blaze. Mirroring his own easing turmoil as he shut down the instinct to flee and welcomed the darkness speckling the edges of his vision.

His lungs were burning as he struggled for air, and it felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest, keeping them from inflating and grinding his bones down.

The feeling went out of his legs as his hands turned to claws and raked down his neck, leaving scarlet trails of pain scoring his constricting throat.

His world flipped sideways as he collapsed and his head cracked off the rubble strewn ground, but he no longer felt any pain. The roar of the fire, the slowing beat of his heart, and the stones poking into his tear-streaked face were all he knew.

As Richy’s weary eyes teetered on the edge of closure for the last time, a bizarre scene unfolded within the tumult of his fading consciousness.

The nerves in his hands spasmed and his fingers twitched, filthy nails scratching at the dirt to distract himself as he resisted the urge to fight for his life.

No, it had to end like this. If Hell was real, it was best he got used to it.

Freezing panic blasted through him like a blizzard as his blurred eyes caught sight of something that didn’t belong.

Through the shimmering haze of smoke and heat, a figure emerged from a tunnel he hadn’t thought to include in his fiery last act. His heart tried to beat faster as fear spread its icy fingers through his body. The person appeared cloaked in a shivering orange glow and erratic shadows.

Masked and foreboding, the phantom figure raced away without noticing Richy. And lost in the fractured fabric of his perception, Richy could not see who or what it was. If it was a real person, they might’ve tried to drag him out. This would all be for naught. For once, his horrendous luck benefited him.

As it was, the panicked footsteps bolted away from him, barely heard over the howling fire, and vanished into the tumult of smoke.

He hoped they made it out. It hadn’t occurred to him he might take another’s life with him. Just another mistake. Another tally on his list of sins committed. His choices lay before him like an intricately woven tapestry, each thread a testament to the wrong turns and paths he tread, yielding a disturbing, wretched pattern he wished he could unravel and weave anew.

His trembling gaze soon faltered as the slithering smoke filled his lungs, gasping for air that no longer existed as he spluttered and coughed. With every shallow inhale, the world blurred and distorted. Black spots burst like maleficent fireworks in his eyes, shutting down his fleeting thoughts of crawling to safety.

A cacophony of wheezes and whines slipping from his open mouth faded into a distant echo, as his eyelids, heavy with surrender, fluttered closed. He gave himself over to the exhaustion eating him alive from the inside.

The world outside ceased to matter as an alleviating darkness enveloped his mind. His tiny exhales were little more than puffs of air. A whispered farewell to all those he was leaving behind.

Richy had fallen quiet, but the fire raged on, growing stronger as it feasted on wood, and hastily packed boxes, and the papers inside them. His legacy of ash and blood.

In the letter he left for his parents, he had assumed all guilt and taken the lion's share of the responsibility for Jennifer’s death, and his actions after. Hannah, he thought she had suffered enough, and whatever punishment she received, he didn’t want it to ruin her more. Death was his toll to pay, his lethal reputation would exist long after him and pay for the rest of it. He only hoped his parents could move on from this.

They wouldn’t see him again, not until the funeral. It was over. The corrosive effects of his choices had eaten away at everything good in him.

There was nothing left to salvage from his wreckage.

He tried. And he failed. This time, he finally succeeded in something. The complete demolition of him. A tear slipped through his lashes, warm and soft as it fell to the mucky ground.

It was the last. No more fell.

Death came quietly for him, as silent as a falling leaf drifting into a pile of its fallen friends. His chest stuttered as tentacles of smoke wreathed around him like funeral wrappings, falling as still as the rock he lay atop.

Death finally slayed Richy Rogers’ demons, and no one heard their screams.

——————

I have never been so nervous about something I’ve written. I hope that you—I can’t say enjoyed 🙈 but I hope your time wasn’t wasted. Thank you for reading, if you made it this far.

This is in no way meant to glamorise mental illness or anything like that. That is not my intention. I have been where Richy was in this story, I didn’t kidnap or help bury anyone, but I’ve dealt with depression/anxiety all my life. I’ve dealt with suicidal thoughts. There is nothing glamorous about it. This is just a fictional character study to explore his mind and emotions at the end of the game. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust. Or a stranger, if that works better. Share the burden. You don’t have to suffer alone. It can get better. I promise. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t ❤️🫂

Thank you ❤️

And the “masked figure,” that was Jake from this story, The Ending You Deserve. Just a little Easter egg for anyone who read that 🤭❤️

[witchwitha-b]

Double Upload :D

Because I thought why not and because I have work tomorrow and I rather upload now than tomorrow and let you wait too long ^^

Besides, there are many other chats I have planned, and I am really excited to share them with you!

But enjoy this one first :D

<3

[ameliawarnerr]

Jake: I believe everybody in this house needs to buy a personal computer and stop using mine.

Dan: Sharing is caring, hackerboy.

Jake: Well then, I don't care about y’all.

MC:

Jake: Except you, of course.

Jessy: We use yours because it is so much faster and the keys of the keyboard are really soft.

Jake: That is because mine is a computer specialized for hacking. And it's not for silly games like Angry Birds and Purble Place, Jessica.

Richy: So it can't handle games?

Jake: *Offended* What? Of course, it can. It can handle tons of games working at the same time.

Richy: So what's the problem?

Jake: I need to do some important business and the problem is, wait, I’ll just show you. *Points to his computer*

Cleo: *Playing Purble Place* Shit, it was supposed to be chocolate over vanilla.

[hacked-by-jake]

Therapist: So, tell me about your friends. What are they like?

MC: Well, you know..

MC: Who have we got here...

MC: Jessy, well, Jessy is very emotional. Not very rational. She likes to run into dangerous and unknown homes after using the satnav of someone else and also likes to check out the houses of murder suspects and almost gets killed by them. Luckily she run fast enough, haha.

MC: Thomas... Well, Thomas is a stupid puppy. Most of the time he forgets he's a brain. He's not really good in using it, tho. He's a true cry baby. He mostly is too dump to realise how serious situations are and that's why he just doesn't care about important instructions. Or, he cares but he's not smart enough to follow them. But he loved his girlfriend a lot, which is a good thing. Oh, and he also likes to visit houses of possible murderer. He once broke into Hannahs apartment where he met Cleo who also broke in there. And together they tried to break into Phil’s bar. But remember, door of steel. Very shameful fail.

Therapist:

Therapist: Okay, you told me the Cleo, what about her?

MC: Cleo. Well, Cleo likes break-ins. During the short time I met her, she broke in twice and tried another one but failed terribly. Together with Thomas, by the way. But there was a door made of steel and that was above her break in skills. She also likes to go for runs in the forest while there is a murder in there as well.

Therapist: *nervously chuckles and cleats her throat* Okay, what about... The name say.. Jack Daniels?

MC: Ohh, Dan. Dan is good at shooting with weapons, he can also see if weapons are real or fake pretty fast. And unlike Cleo, he prefers to break out instead of in. Hospitals are not his thing, you know? Oh, and he loves whiskey... and car drives at night... Together...

Therapist: Okay, let's switch. What about a girl called Lilly?

MC: Ah, Lilly. I used to hate her with everything I have, you know. She accused me of kidnapping and murderer. She really messed up. And she's talented in that. She's also good in video production.

Therapist: Thank God, something normal. What kind of videos does she do?

MC: Well, videos in which she incites people and spreads horrible rumors, as mentioned, I hated her once. That was because she made a video in which she accused me and her half brother of the things I also mentioned. Murder and kidnapping and shit. Oh, and she loves to call the police. If you ever need someone to call the police for you, she's the one you should ask.

Therapist: *sighs*

Therapist: And who is Phil?

MC: Argh, Phil is uninteresting. He’s an ordinary misogynist. Owns a bar. He got arrested once. And I suspect he might have killed the former bar owner. But nothing special.

MC: We also got Richy. Well, he's.. he's a very bad criminal, you know. Like, really bad. It's not his biggest strength. He was the one who actually kidnapped the girl, but he didn’t kill anyone. And he even changed his personality and became an old legend. He was shot once, no twice, but at the same time. Thanks to Richy, I know Dan’s good at shooting. And as teenagers he buried a dead body. That's why he became this old, ridiculous legend. And the body also takes us straight to Hannah.

MC: Hannah. Hannah is the kidnapped girl. Hannah is cute. She once fell in love with her half brother but she did not know he's her half brother so.. But she's to blame for the dead body. She borrowed a car from Richy one night even though she didn’t have a driver’s license. Well and then she unfortunately ran over a girl by car. As I said, no driver's license... Long story short: Richy and Hannah and another girl named Amy, who was also in the car, buried the body. Sometimes Hannah has problems with hallucinations, but it’s gotten better since Richy got caught. She thought she’d seen the man without a face. The old legend. But luckily, it was just Richy with a potato sack over his head.

Therapist: You mentioned the half brother of Hannah and Lilly several times now. Tell me about him.

MC: *giggling* Oh, he's my boyfriend. I love him with everything I have, you know. He's just as uninteresting as Phil. He hates Phil, he's very jealous, so please don't tell him I compared the two. But I can't really talk about him, you know. The FBI is watching me so I can't say much.

Therapist: FBI? Why that?

MC: Well, my boyfriend is a government-wanted hacker. And the FBI tries to catch him since several years. So, like I said, as uninteresting as Phil. But I’m relieved he’s a much better criminal than Richy.

Therapist: *about to scream*

+ bonus

Therapist: Can you wait here for a minute? I need to make a call I forgot, but it won’t take long.

MC: Sure, go ahead.

Therapist, in another room, calling: I urgently need a couple of ambulances and just as many white jackets!

[reality-exodus]

Broken promises

Ch. 1 Lost and Found

Pairing: M/c x Jake, Words: 1280 Summary: What if m/c went to the Grimrock mines to warn Jake of the police?

I had promised him I wouldn’t go but he tricked me, I would have gone to the mines just like Michael Hanson requested, however Jake has other plans.  I must admit it was really sweet that the group had asked of me not go. Well only Thomas encouraged me to do so. I am obviously not mad at him, I could understand how he was feeling, the devastation and the fear that was dominating him when it came to Hannah.

I was so scared, Jake kept talking to me, keeping me updated on what was going on in the tunnels, what he was seeing. He kept texting every motion he would make even though the signal was getting weaker and weaker until he said someone was coming and went offline. I felt my knees go weaker at the thought of the culprit getting to him, I haven’t even seen his face but in my head, my last call with Richy keeps repeating, this time though it is Jake who falls in blood. God! I don’t even know his face and yet I don’t want to lose him.

Once I realized Bloomgate was on his way there I picked up my stuff and took my bike on the mines as well. I was most likely going to be late, nonetheless I was unable to sit down and just wait for Jake’s reply. I was staying at the motel. No one was aware of that not even the man without a face apparently or perhaps he realized only now.

I was riding as fast as I could, my eyes fixed on the road, taking small breaks only to stare at the navigator of Duskwood made sure I had on my device. Suddenly my phone rang… I was Alan Bloomgate.

“Hello, Nellie… I have gotten to the tunnels of the mines” He sounded older than it felt on the text messages.

“Owo, good job chief. How did you find this information all by yourself?” I asked making sure the mock and sarcasm in my voice was distinctively highlighted.

“You did a good job.” He spoke up and then gasped, there was a pause in his voice “There is a room full of files, archives. And there are pictures of all your friends…” He told me.

“Really Sherlock? Maybe there’s an envelope with my name a big sign saying revenge and plethora of raven graffiti?” I wondered and panted lightly, the freezing breeze of December was hitting my skin like many small stab wounds. It was Christmas and I was probably riding my bike to my death. I hoped that Alan wouldn’t notice the back ground noise of my bike and my dragged breathing.

“How do you know?” he asked me, his tone surprised. I was rather satisfied that he didn’t see many of these facts coming.

“That’s what we wanted you to see at the Hanson old residence.” I explained and braked abruptly.

“Are you outside?” He asked me and I didn’t reply. “If you are thinking of coming here, change mindset, it is too dangerous.” He started off.

“Too late for that chief.” I spoke and parked my bike. I was wearing heavy clothes that wouldn’t allow me to move freely, I kept my beanie and scarf. “the culprit threatens me quiet sometime now and today he told me that he would let the two go if I came at Grimmrock waterfall…” I unriddled my ponders leaving Jake out of my speech, he was already in there somewhere. I was in danger running towards a trap and all I could think of is how close we are to each other for the first time.

I strolled over the area, it was a really impressive and beautiful place, I was to the place I was supposed to meet with Micheal Hanson but he seemed nowhere around, I had started shivering without really realizing it.

“There’s someone there.” Alan said and his voice got quieter.

“Be careful, do not shoot…Can you hear me?” I asked as I saw the screen glitching. The damn reception of that place… I forgot where I was standing, I was only scared that he would fall face to face with Jake.  I raised my gaze to see the culprit 50 meters away from just staring blankly and I gulped.

“Mrs. Donford.” Alan exclaimed and I looked at the screen. He had found Hannah.

“Find Richy” said she immediately before the call was over.

“Notifying the police wasn’t part of the plan.” The man without a face said, his voice still altered.

“Many things were not in the plan and yet, here we are, aren’t we?” I asked and hoped to stall him as long as I could so the rest would come out of the mines and find me.

‘Bloomgate found Hannah, she is safe...’

‘And I am standing face to face with our cute little legend.’  I texted the groupchat and I saw everyone coming online immediately.

‘What do you mean?’ Lilly asked.

‘Awe some one ran out of braincells, Nellie, WHAT THE HECK?’ Dan texted.

‘Get out of there’ Cleo was next.

‘Please, please, please, Nellie, you can still leave… There’s Jake and now the police too.’ Jessy tried convincing me and I sighed.

‘Nellie where are you?’ Lilly asked as I couldn’t reply at that point, the legend was laughing but thankfully not walking, he kept the distance between us and this offered me some sense of security that I couldn’t really explain.

‘Answer, please don’t scare us like that’ Jessy added.

‘Guys give her time.’ Thomas tried to be the common sense .

“What do you want from me?” I yelled loudly as this staring contest was unnerving me, I made sure to press voice record and sent it to the groupchat. “Why did you involve me?” I yelled even louder. However, he seemed unphased. “You are scared of me, but I do not know why… I only came here for two months and suddenly I am tangled in this mess because of you… You just stand there… You want to scare me? Well congratulations you’ve made it…”

“You see, this mine stopped operating after a great explosion, many innocent people died back in the day, therefore the cause of the explosion isn’t still known… This is how it works, explosion usually has causalties.” He spoke and I inhaled deeply.

“You didn’t…” I breathed out in disbelief.

“Or maybe I did.” He said and I felt wings on my legs as I sprinted down the entrance and I saw him chase after me when Alan’s voice was heard and maybe a few shots. I don’t know if he was still after me. I soon found myself on the ladder Jake showed me and started climbing down, if he was after me he would have made it to the entrance cut down the ladder and I would already be dead… Right?

“Jake!” I exclaimed and my voice echoed all through the tunnels. I started running and running I was lost by now. My phone bombardised with concerned messages while I was looking everywhere for him or the explosives. Not that I would know what to do with them.

I was out of breath, I have no idea how long I have been running around those tunnels, it must have been twenty minutes and I was in denial. I was lost. I paused in a fork path and took a deep breath when I heard a crack from the floor and I felt a pair of hands pulling me on a narrow tunnel. I was out of breath I felt a pair of hands pulling me on a narrow tunnel. It was over my mouth and pressed over my neck. I couldn’t escape or scream… I froze.

A/N: Hey, I replayed the whole game and I feel pretty confident into staritng a small fic again. There will potentially be more chapters on the way. I accept requests of duskwood characters and I would also appreciate your opinion.

Have a great day:)

Yours, silvermist

[duskwood-mc-art]

Dan x Mc

Don't read if you haven't finished Duskwood yet!

But the way he crushes on MC is just so adorable. He is the one who trusts MC (and Jake) the least in the beginning of the game.

But the moment when Jessy didn't show up to their date and Dan was drunk, he went to MC. He could have talked to anyone of the group. But he chose MC. For the simple reason, that they didn't know eachother well and he thought MC won't judge. Someone is more likely to express their true feelings when drunk. Alcohol cannot make you feel or think things, but rather it lowers the person's inhibitions and judgment in social situations, which makes it more difficult for them to determine whether something is socially acceptable.

Dan probably developed a crush on MC ever since. He warns MC and tells them to be careful around Jake. Not because he dislikes Jake. He doesn't dislike anyone. He is laid back and easy going. But he doesn't want MC to get hurt because deep down he really cares for MC.

So much, that he opens up to MC by himself, and when MC even supports him and doesn't judge him for escaping the hospital or his actions when he told her about his dad, he invites MC out on a date to watch a movie. And he didn't even ask directly, because he was shy. He waited for his opportunity to invite MC. Of course he also calls them "Boo" which is a term that is used if someone adores or loves a person.

He really liked Jessy, and called her "babe", but MC gets his sweet, hidden side. Because Dan knows how it feels to be an innocent person and getting dragged into something horrible.

And I think this is very adorable. If Jake wouldn't have been my favorite romance route, it surely would have been Dan.

[jake-s-azaleea]

Jessy: You're staring.

MC: No I'm not!

Jessy: You're practically drooling.

MC: No shut up, you're insane.

Jessy: Yeah, you're right. What would you ever see in him?

MC: What is that supposed to mean? He's funny, he's smart, he's handsome, he's- oh.

Jessy:...

MC:...

Jessy: *sniggers*

MC: I can't believe I fell for that.

[mwonie]

In the last episode of Duskwood, when I was fighting with Jake about who would go to the mine.

My face when Jake didn't give me the right to speak and went offline:

[lyon-amore]

Jake, emotions and defense mechanisms

One of the things Jake asks us in the game is if we don't let ourselves be influenced by some feelings when we're talking about Jessy and the initials on the bracelet. Something we can admit or not, but… What happens to Jake throughout the game? Doesn't he let himself be guided by his emotions at the end even though he says he represses them?

Jake throughout the game reminds us that it's about finding Hannah, making it clear that he's putting his feelings in the middle, not only because he's a witness, but also because he's moved by family emotion, being her brother. For him, the emotional connection with Hannah is more important than the group, because he doesn't feel any emotion towards them since they haven't started any conversation (Aside from Lilly because she's his sister and he's clearly also worried about her because she also installed Nymos thanks to him, making it clear that because of the information she published, she could also be in danger.)

Let's also remember when he discovers that Hannah had depression. Jake completely collapses, discovering something that she never told him. Depression is a serious subject and he clearly doesn't want to talk about it. Maybe because of a specific issue? Someone close to him? So his emotions flow more there, even to the point of disconnecting. He can't control himself, he needs to think about it, because he knows he is emotionally affected.

Okay, now let's move on to the photos of Michael's house, part two. According to him, he's suppressing his emotions to try to see it as an opportunity, but in reality, if we also think about how distant he is throughout the game, he's not suppressing his emotions unconsciously at that moment. He already knows how to do it because he's used it for years and now he's doing it to not let his emotions get upset.

The defense mechanism is called Intellectualization or Isolation, which is to subject emotions or feelings to abstract reasoning. Every time something bad happens, that's what Jake uses to not get carried away by his emotions, because back to the topic of finding out that Hannah had depression; when he comes back, he's like nothing happened and he doesn't want to talk about it, he completely ignores it when MC tries to talk about it. He avoids the topic. And there's a moment when he gets angry if you think that she could have hurt herself, leaving his emotions of concern on display.

And then, we get to the final part of the game. Jake has changed a lot. He has interacted with the group, he has seen the concern in them. He also doesn't want them to go to the iron mine in search of Hannah because they could get hurt, he even feels guilty that Michael goes after them. Yes, we could say that it's because they are MC's friends (but I'm talking about both genders, not only because he's the person he loves, but also because he's his friend), but even he likes the idea that they finally defend themselves from Michael, he sees it as a good thing. He also wants to find an alternative so that none of them go to the waterfall so that they run the risk of running into Michael. He is already letting himself be guided by his emotions until MC decides to talk to Alan Bloomgate.

And when it comes to the female MC, that's when all of his feelings spill over the most and his defense mechanism breaks down. We might think it was the moment she saw Richy die, but in reality it's when she sees that she can put herself in danger and possibly die. You read a much more desperate Jake, because he can't keep closing himself off anymore.

Let’s also remember something else, when we asked him if sometimes we don’t go too far with investigations. Jake asks a counter question ‘What does too far mean if it’s about a human life?’. Jake throughout the game was putting Hannah’s life before others because it’s in danger and now, with the exchange he wants to make, it’s time to value MC’s life. He can’t put his friend/lover in danger, he knows that would be going too far. So to avoid that, he puts his feelings first and decides to go in search of his sister, just as he should have done in the beginning instead of putting someone in danger. Now, thanks to that someone, he’s back to being himself and no longer feeling alone. Now he has the purpose to keep fighting.

He may not be able to tell you how far you can go to save a life, but he does show you throughout the game:

Jake has been deceiving himself during the investigation and has always been governed by his emotions even though he doesn't want to admit it. He was risking his life for one life, which in the end turned out to be two.

[duskwoodgirl4life]

Richy is a complete arsehole he is supposed to be our friend and yet he did what he did it can not be forgiven