#we miss our markers having to fiddle with settings every time we want to change a thing is gonna drive us mad

[mantisgodsart]

Valentines day is here. Unfortunately, this particular set of drawings is too small to line and color traditionally, so we did it digitally, instead. Proud to present: group 1/5.

(Part 2)

[mallowstep]

(hand games on the playground court)

"Bubblegum, bubblegum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?"

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11-

"Alright, Featherpaw, you take my place."

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Mistyfoot glances back over her shoulder. "We're going on a little walk."

"But it's dark."

Stonefur meets her eyes. If they get caught taking the kids out, they'll be separated, and then they have no hope of protecting them.

"I know," Mistyfoot says. "It'll be fun. A little adventure."

She squeezes Featherpaw's hand a little tighter, and they cross over the road, making it deeper into the woods. Stonefur fiddles with the cellphone he picked up last time he was in town. They've waited months for a chance to use it.

Stormpaw grabs a twig, dragging it through the dirt, and Featherpaw twists a finger through her hair.

"Hey," Stonefur says. "Yeah, yeah it's me. We're alright, I've got the kids."

Stonefur crouches down, smiling at Featherpaw and Stormpaw. "I've got your dad on the phone," he says, pressing a few buttons. "Okay, Greystripe, you're on speaker."

"Hey, kiddos," Greystripe says. "How are you doing?"

Stonefur passes the phone to Stormpaw, and the kids chatter on about their days. Stonefur stands next to Mistyfoot, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I'm running out of cash," he says, his voice low to avoid the kids' attention. "This might be their last call."

"I'll see what I can find," Mistyfoot says. "We should..."

What should they do? Leopardstar has custody of the kids. They can't take them to Greystripe without getting dragged back here.

Stonefur puts his arm around her shoulders. "We'll figure it out," he says.

On the way back, Mistyfoot reminds the kids that this has to be their secret. They don't ask why.

* * *

Stormpaw hits the ball away from him, watching it bounce twice in the square next to him.

"You're out!" he calls, and they all rotate squares.

"Your serve," someone says. Stormpaw smiles. He doubts he'll be knocked out before recess is over.

* * *

Stonefur taps on the window to the kids' room. Stormpaw opens the window, looking confused.

"Stonefur?"

"Shh," Stonefur hushes. "Quiet, okay?"

"What are you doing here? Tigerstar said you went missing."

"Yeah, I know." Stonefur takes a deep breath. "Where's your sister?"

"I dunno. Mistyfoot took her somewhere."

Fuck. He doesn't know what his sister has planned, but he can't wait for them to get back. He's sure he's already tripped an alarm, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds him.

"Okay," he says, "You and me are going to go on an adventure, okay?"

Stormpaw looks hesitant.

"It'll be fun," Stonefur soothes. "Come on, you get to climb out a window. Isn't that fun?"

Stormpaw clambers out, and Stonefur grabs him. He's too big to carry comfortably, but too young to walk fast enough to make it out. "Piggy back ride, okay?"

"I can walk."

"I know." Stonefur shifts Stormpaw, and closes the window as best he can as Stormpaw wraps his legs and arms around him. His heel kicks into the gouge in his side, but Stonefur does his best not to react.

"Where are we going?" Stormpaw asks, as he treks towards town, turning back over his shoulder every couple of minutes.

"We're going to live with your dad," Stonefur says.

"What about Featherpaw?"

Stonefur adjusts Stormpaw, wrapping his arms under Stormpaw's knees. "I'll go back for her once we get to Greystripe," Stonefur says.

He walks until noon of the next day. They're in a new town, and he forks up enough cash to get them a motel room. Stormpaw's head is resting on his shoulder, and he slides the kid into the bed as gently as he can. Hopefully, he can run to a gas station and back before Stormpaw wakes.

The attendant examines his purchases. Stonefur doesn't have cash to waste on hiding what he's doing. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, sewing kit, and a new burner phone. He's lucky he's wearing a jacket, because he's sure his shirt has been soaked with blood.

Stormpaw wakes when Stonefur opens the door.

"Hey, buddy," he says. "Sleep well?"

"I'm hungry," Stormpaw says.

"I know. I need a minute, and then we'll see if we can't scrounge up something for you to eat."

Stonefur shuts the bathroom door and starts the sink. His side is angry and red, and this is going to hurt like hell.

He doubles numbers in his head, high as he can keep track of, as he cleans it out and stitches it shut. It's not a good job, but he can't afford a doctor.

Stormpaw is fiddling with the TV when he opens the door. He looks at the shoddy stitches. "You should see a doctor."

"I'll be fine," Stonefur says. "Just a second, and then we'll find some food." He dials Greystripe's number. It's been nearly six months since they last called him. "Greystripe, it's me."

"Stonefur?"

"Yeah. Listen, I can't talk for long, but me and Stormpaw are on our way to you."

"What happened? What about Featherpaw?"

Stormpaw hangs upside down off the bed, mouthing along to the theme song of some children's cartoon. Stonefur is surprised he remembers seeing it.

"I didn't have time to get her. It was one or none." Stonefur runs his hand through his hair. He must look half wild. He'll have to clean them both up before they leave, if they want any hope of not attracting attention. "We won't be there for a while. Maybe a few months."

"I can come to you," Greystripe says. "Where are you? Do you need anything?"

"I don't have an ID, I don't have a bank account, and we've gotta keep moving," Stonefur says. "We'll be fine. You're at the same address?"

"Yeah. Can I talk to Stormpaw?"

"Yeah. But listen -- Mistyfoot will take care of Featherpaw. I wouldn't have left her if she would be alone."

"I know." Greystripe is frustrated, angry, even, and Stonefur can't blame him. "Keep in contact, okay?"

"Yeah. Don't talk for too long. I only have so many minutes."

* * *

Tawnypaw is jumping.

"For all have sinned and fall short in the glory of God," they chant, Tawnypaw jumping on every other syllable.

It's fall, and they're not back in school. Tigerstar says it's a bad influence and probably why Stormpaw left and he won't risk any more children being corrupted.

* * *

Maybe Mistyfoot should be more surprised when she's moved into a new room with Featherpaw. But it feels par for the course. Tigerstar has been livid ever since Stormpaw and Stonefur ran (or since Stonefur died, he keeps changing the story and Mistyfoot isn't sure which one is true), and cramming them in a windowless barely-more-than-a-closet feels about right.

Featherpaw is seemingly unbothered.

"He's isolating us," she explains. ""Cause our brothers were bad so we're probably bad so he doesn't want it to spread."

Mistyfoot cradles Featherpaw against her. "We're not bad," she says. "Our brothers aren't either." She runs her hand through Featherpaw's hair. It's tangled, but she doesn't have a brush.

"Tigerstar says we are," Featherpaw says. "Says we need to do a penance-" she slows down over that word, like she is making sure she has the right pronunciation "-so that our souls will be clean again."

Mistyfoot kisses the top of Featherpaw's head. "We don't need to do anything," she says. "Tigerstar doesn't know what he's talking about."

Featherpaw shrugs, like she doesn't want to argue but still thinks Mistyfoot is wrong. "He didn't let me bring my book," she says, her nose scrunching. "I was in the middle of a chapter."

* * *

"Last piece of cake," Stonefur says. "Who gets it?"

It's Stormpaw's tenth birthday. He hasn't celebrated his birthday since he was five, but Stonefur brought a cake back to their room and said they were celebrating this year.

"We should...thumb wrestle over it."

Stonefur smiles, but Stormpaw is pretty sure Stonefur lets him win. But Stormpaw doesn't touch the piece of cake.

"You won," Stonefur says, "don't you want it?"

"It's Featherpaw's birthday too," Stormpaw says.

Stonefur's jaw tightens, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He rubs Stormpaw's shoulder.

* * *

Stonefur steals a car in late December. It's too cold to walk, and they're both exhausted, and he doesn't have the money he needs to buy one.

He'd be ashamed, but he doesn't have another choice. Stormpaw sits in the passenger seat, even though he's definitely too young for that, and Stonefur passes him a map.

"Ready, navigator?"

"Ready."

* * *

"Concentration!" Featherpaw says, "sixty-four!"

Mistyfoot doesn't know any games, so Featherpaw is teaching her all the ones she knows. Tigerstar hasn't let her go back for her book, or let her take any of the worksheets they've been doing back to their room, and Featherpaw doesn't have a long enough piece of string to do a cat's cradle. "I go first, you follow." Mistyfoot is watching Featherpaw carefully, but she's doing the motion fine. This is an easy game, anyway. There's nothing going on. It's mostly about the words.

"Category is...animals."

Mistyfoot smiles.

"Sheep."

"Mouse."

"Cow."

"Dog."

"Cat."

Someone bangs on the door. "Will the two of you shut up?"

* * *

Tigerstar places his hand on the small of her back.

"I hope you're doing well, Mistyfoot. I'm sure it's been hard, losing your brother like that."

Tigerstar sighs, using his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. "It just goes to show you, you never can be sure about who's loyal."

* * *

That summer, Stormpaw draws a hopscotch grid on the driveway. Greystripe has bought him chalk, and markers, and a new backpack and more than the two sets of clothes he had been washing out in bathroom sinks.

"There aren't really any neighbourhood kids to play with," Greystripe says, "but if you're okay with winning all the time, I'll play."

[writingfandomfeels]

Scott McCall - Stories From Camp

Every kid always has stories from their times at camp. They get excited sharing them and they almost always include something adventurous and amazing. Not you. The idea of being stranded in the woods with strangers telling you what to do, when to eat, what to eat, and basically giving you chores, sounded a bit like the definition of prison, just in the wilderness. But apparently others found that very appealing. You figured once you’d passed grade school the question of summer camp was no longer there, and yet, here you were. All in the name of college applications. Volunteer work looks good on college applications and since you liked kids you thought you’d try out this camp counselor business. Quick into the gig you found yourself having a lot of fun, especially when it came to another camp counselor: Scott. He was amazing with the kids. You’d already had quite a few shifts with him, each one leaving you grinning like an idiot. At the moment you were on your way to conducting arts and crafts with him and his friend, and honestly, you’d been looking forward to it all day. 

You stood at the head of the long table where the group of small children were talking and playing around with the craft supplies in front of them. 

“If everyone could… if, I could have your attention… if you could please listen…” You stuttered, trying to get the attention of the young group to give the instructions. 

“Hey everyone!!! Let’s all listen to what counselor Y/N has to say and then we’ll make our crafts, okay?!!” Scott projected his voice above the many others and the children quieted down for you. 

“Thanks” you smiled at him then proceeded to give the instructions on the craft. The kids were given the option of either making a card for someone, or making caterpillars out of cut up egg cartons and decorating them. 

“What’s your caterpillar’s name Stiles?” A little boy asked Scott’s friend who was decorating an egg carton next to the child. 

“What? It’s an egg carton.” Stiles replied. 

You saw Scott (who’s face was covered in stickers a little girl had put on him) give Stiles a look, seeming to ask him to be nice to the kid. 

“Uhhh, Jimmy.” Stiles named the carton. 

The boy inspected the carton before shaking his head. “No, I think his name is Randall.” 

“Okay, fine, then it’s Randall.” Stiles begrudgingly gave in. 

As you helped a kid with the glitter glue, you overheard Scott and the little girl he was sitting with. 

“Wow! That looks amazing! What do you think it should say inside?” Scott asked her. 

“Ummmm, well she has really pretty hair. Maybe you should say her hair is pretty.” The little girl suggested. 

“Thats a great idea!” Scott encouraged. “You should write that down for me.” 

The little girl spelled it out loud as she wrote it down with a marker. 

“I gotta peeeee!!!” 

Your attention was quickly stolen from Scott and the girl as a boy stood in front of you, grabbing his crotch and dancing a little. 

“Oh! Okay, let’s go now.” You responded and quickly got up to escort him. 

When you returned, the group was cleaning up. The little girl Scott was with ran over to you and handed you the card she’d been working on. 

“Scott wanted me to help him make it” She beamed. 

“Thank you!” You accepted the folded, bright red, construction paper. 

On the front was a glitter glue flower and a heart that was still drying. Flecks of extra glitter fell off the card with every touch. On the inside it read: 

TO: Y/N. YORE HAIR IS RELY PRITTY. With a few of the letters written backwards. Then it had the word “love” scribbled out and replaced with FRM: SCOTT MADE BY MARIE

You felt a blush heating your cheeks. “That was very sweet of you.” 

The boy that you’d returned with from the bathroom grabbed at your arm to try and pull it down for him to see the card too. 

“Ewww.” The boy grimaced. “Is Mr. Scott your boyfriend?” 

Well if your cheeks weren’t bright red before, they definitely were now. Your eyes darted up, seeing Scott smile from across the room. Quickly you shot your eyes down, trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“Umm, no, he’s, he’s not.” You replied awkwardly. 

“Oh. Well he should be. People don’t get gross like that unless they’re in love.” The boy informed with a shudder that made you giggle. 

Once the craft supplies were completely cleaned up, you found yourself leaving the art cabin at the same time as Scott. You smiled at him bashfully. A moment passed as you were trying to get up the courage to say something to him, when a boy ran by yelling. 

“OHHHH, AHHH, OH NOOOOO, IT’S… HAPPENING!!!!!” The boy yelled and fell to the ground, seeming to be in pain. 

“Are you okay?!” You worried, rushing to the boy’s side. 

“IT’S, IT’S THE FULL MOON, AHHHHH” The boy continued to scream. “I’M. I’M. I’M A WEREWOLF!!!!! AWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!” The boy howled. “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

Unimpressed, you frowned at the child. You really thought something had been wrong when he was, quite literally, just crying wolf. Meanwhile Scott just grinned at him. 

“Actually kid, if you get practiced at it you can control when you turn into a werewolf despite the full moon.” Scott disclosed. 

“Whoa.” The kid stared at him in disbelief. “COOL!!!!” Then he ran off continuing to howl and growl at other kids, occasionally pretending to eat them. 

“Into mythology I take it?” You questioned, relieved to have finally found something to say. 

“You could say that.” Scott nodded. 

A silence fell on the two of you again. Apparently your conversation starter only scratched the ice rather than breaking it. 

“I, uh, I’ve got canoeing next.” Scott gestured behind him to the lake. 

“Oh, that must be nice. You can cool off in the water.” You replied nervously. 

He smiled. “Uhh, not so much actually. You, don’t really get wet. That’s… kind of what the boat is for.” He chuckled a bit. 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course, I don’t know why I-” You were cut off when another counsellor called Scott from a distance. 

“Scott!” 

“Yeah!” He responded. 

“We need you at the lake now!” 

“Yeah! I’m on it!” Scott replied. “Sorry, gotta run.” 

“I-right, yeah, that’s- okay, see you later!” You called after him as he ran off. 

***

You didn’t see Scott again until the next night when you were sat across the fire from him. He had brought his guitar and was playing classic camp songs for the kids. After it was discovered that you have a knack for roasting marshmallows, you turned into The Official Best Marshmallow Roaster to most of the kids, receiving many requests to ‘pretty please roast my marshmallow for me Miss Y/N’, and of course you happily complied. 

“Alright, who wants to hear me write a song right now about anything you want?” Scott asked after finishing Down By The Bay. The kidlets cheered. “What do you want to hear a song about?” Different kids began yelling out ideas. “BUGS!” 

“CATS!” “MY GRANDMA!” “BOOGERS!” “MISS Y/N!” The last one caught Scott’s attention. “Ahh, I don’t know.” he responded. “WHO WANTS COUNSELLOR SCOTT TO SING ABOUT COUNSELLOR Y/N?!” Stiles stood up and asked the kids. “YEAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” All the kids yelled in response. “The jury has spoken.” Stiles stated and sat back down. “Um, okay,” Scott smiled nervously then fiddled with his guitar, trying to find a certain chord. He then proceeded to play an awkward but extremely cute song featuring how nice you are to everyone, the color of your eyes, how you like to eat toast for breakfast in the mess hall and so does he, and how great you’ve been making the summer for everyone. When he finished there was a brief silence which was rare with so many kids around. A little girl approached you and tapped you on your knee. “Miss Y/N, will you please go out with Mr Scott?” The girl asked politely. You pressed your lips together in an attempt not to smile and blush even harder than the song had made you. “Oh c’mon you guys! What, you don’t think I can get my own dates?” Scott teased the kids before smiling back at you. 

“Noooooo!” The kids answered. Another counsellor then changed the topic by starting to sing Baby Shark. Your eyes were still locked with Scott’s, both of you smiling at each other. “Do you want to?” Scott mouthed over the many singers. You nodded your head. All you ever wanted was to go on a date with him. And after that song? It was dumb to say but you were melting. “Okay” He mouthed again, nodding excitedly too. Then he jumped in with his guitar and playing the music for Baby Shark. 

***

Just after the campfire was disbanded, a very young child handed you a paper then disappeared without saying a word. You unfolded the note and read it. 

Meet me on the dock at 10:30 -Scott

You grinned at the paper before slipping it into your pocket. Once your cabin was tucked in and fast asleep, along with all the other cabins, you walked down to the dock. You found Scott sitting on the edge of it, his feet hanging into the lake. Taking a seat next to his flip flops, you joined him. “I liked your song.” You said, your eyes fixed on the lake, too nervous to look at him. “Thanks,” You kicked your feet in the water a little bit. “So, uh, what brought you to camp this year?” You asked, attempting to make conversation. “My mom suggested it. Volunteer work makes it easier to get into colleges and universities and Stiles and I could use all the help we can get.” He answered. “Where do you want to go? Or, what do you want to do?” “I’d like to be a veterinarian. I’ve been working at a clinic for a few years now and I love it.” He smiled. “That’s so cool! I love animals. Although I guess I don’t really know anyone who hates them… I mean who can look at a puppy and hate it, that’s just inhuman.” You babbled a bit, making him laugh. “No, it’s true.” Scott agreed. Suddenly your stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “Yeah,” you admitted, “I’m used to snacking a lot at home so I haven’t really gotten used to the set meals and things here yet.” “You know, I have a key to the mess hall. You wanna sneak in and check out what leftovers are in the kitchen?” “Sure!” “Okay, let’s go!” He stood up from the dock, and took your hand, leading you up to the mess hall. Your stomach fluttered in excitement at the feeling of his hand holding yours. He unlocked the door and you crept inside. Unsure of where the light switches were located, Scott used his phone to light your way. Once in the kitchen, the dim light from inside the fridge illuminated the room. “Now what do we have here, chicken, apples, macaroni salad, ooh!” Scott reached in and pulled out an already cut into blueberry pie. “How about this?” “Looks delicious.” You replied, staring at the pie. He cut a slice for both of you and grabbed forks. You stood next to the preparation counter to eat. While eating, the two of you discussed your hobbies, your friends, and your last year of high school approaching. “It’s all happening so fast, you know?” He agreed. “Yeah, in some ways it feels like high school didn’t start all that long ago. But then you remember everything that’s happened since then. All the changes.” “I hate change.” You stated, shaking your head a bit. “I know I’ve been working towards Harvard, what feels like my entire life, but now… I don’t know it just seems so soon. I don’t want to leave my friends and have it all be different.” “Sometimes change can be good though… right?” Scott said, putting down his fork. You shrugged, still eating your pie. “I guess. I don’t know… it depends.” He took a step closer to you and gently brushed a strand of your hair so it was behind your ear. “What about this?” he asked softly. You looked into his sweet brown eyes. “This… is good…” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And this?” He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, his hand cupping your face. Your heart pounded inside your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Fingers tangled into his hair as you kissed him back. He moved his hands to your waist, his tongue gently grazing your bottom lip, seeking entry. Opening your mouth for him, you felt his tongue glide across yours, you replied back in a similar motion. The kiss was broken too quickly though as you felt him suddenly pull away and the lights flick on. You opened your eyes to find a boy in his pyjamas standing in front of the two of you. “What, uh, what are you doing out of bed?” Scott questioned the boy. “What are you doing in the kitchen so late when you’re not kitchen staff?” the boy replied. “That’s… that’s a good point.” Scott paused, looking at you. You gave him a sheepish grin. Scott looked back to the kid. “I won’t tell if you wont?” “Give me a slice of that pie on the counter there and you got yourself a deal.” he bargained. Scott handed over the last slice in the pie plate to him. “I was never here.” the kid said, leaving with his pie. You giggled when Scott turned back to you, breathing a sigh of relief. “We, uh, we should probably get out of here before that happens again.” he suggested. You nodded your head, stifling laughter at the situation. 

That was definitely your best camp story.

[navii-blaze]

Recovering

Hey this is part two of River Ambush. The AU belongs to Linked universe and the characters to Nintendo. Please enjoy and feel free to leave advice.

 The hero of the four sword's eyes slowly blinked open. Requiring much effort since they felt so heavy. He tried to make sense of his surroundings. He obviously wasn't by the river anymore for the surface he laid on was soft and warm, unlike the damp soil he had fought on. The ringing in his ears had stopped thankfully, and he could hear the soft silence of, well... Wherever he was at. As his eyes became more adjusted to his surroundings he started to make out where he was. By looking up he saw a roof of wood, and to his right on a nightstand was an oil lantern, his only source of light. Four noticed that he was only wearing his undershirt and pants, but became relived when he saw his multicolored tunic and enchanted sword next to the door of what seemed to be a cabin.  He looked around more, now supporting himself on his hands as he managed to sit up. The first thing he noticed when doing so that his body was definitely not ready, he felt sore in nearly every bone he had. Softly groaning from the lack of comfort, he pushed the blankets off of him and swung his legs so that they were hanging off the edge.  Seeing how the lantern was lit, Four could only guess that it was dark outside, and that the others were probably sleeping.  But was it really the other heroes that saved him? 

Four's brow creased as his eyes scanned the cabin, looking for any sort of marker that the others might have left. His sight settled on an object on a table nearby, but was unable to clearly see it. Wincing as pricks of pain went off in his legs and arms, Four managed to push himself off the bed and stumble over to the table. I don't recall using the Four Sword or getting hurt this bad, so why am I so sor- an abrupt spilting headache disrupted his thoughts as he braced himself against the table. As he squinched his face up from the pain in his head, his hand made its way up to feel where it hurt the most. He stopped squinching when he felt a fabric where the wound was. His hand explored the fabric, realizing now that it was some sort of bandage that traveled around his head like his headband. 

Remembering why he got up in the first place, he searched the table for said object. He found what he was seeking but didn't know what to make of it. It was a feather. But not like any he had seen before. It was huge, nearly the size of his arm, and was a bright crimson red with touches of yellow at the end. Picking it up, Four wondered what kind of bird could have this long of a feather. While he inspected it he heard a rustling outside of the cabin. Carefully setting the feather down, he cautiously made his way over to the door. He placed his head on the doorknob, hearing the sound get closer. He wasn't quite awake to guess how big the thing out there might be, but he still proceeded with care. The rustling got louder, until Four could swear he heard heavy breathing from the other side. Deciding to risk it, he opened the door wide and suddenly, hoping to catch an unwanted visitor off guard. To Four's surprise, it was none other than the first hero looking extremely winded, and shocked. The both of them jumped back slightly, Sky nearly losing his balance. They recovered by softly laughing it off.

"I'm glad you're feeling better Four. But shouldn't you be resting?" The smaller hero smirked at this, seeing a chance for a smarky remark. 

"Yeah maybe, but shouldn't a knight always be ready to help someone in need? Last I checked I nearly fell down trying to get out of bed." The knight flushed, clearly embarrassed that someone had commented on his poor guarding skills. Four chuckled, he wasn't as malicious at insulting like Veteran, but he always had a comeback up his sleeve. He waited there for a moment to let Sky breath properly and then motioned him inside so that they won't let the warm cabin air out. 

"So where are we anyways? We're certainly not near our last camp since I don't remember a cabin being nearby. Speaking of which, whose cabin is this?" One thing Four had learned during his quests was that no matter how inviting a house may look, one can never truly know if it's invested with monsters in wait of a new meal. Sky panted a little, still trying to let the air back into his lungs. 

"We're not sure, when we found you we had to find a place for you to heal at. Going back to the village two hours away wouldn't be any good, but luckily Wild spotted a place on his map that looked like a cabin. We decided to take our chances and move forward." Four pondered this for a minute, questions coming to his head that he had been putting off.

"Sky?" 

"Yes Four?" The older hero pulled up a chair from a storage closet across from him and offered another for Four, who eagerly accepted having something to help him rest his pained legs. 

"When did you guys first realize I was missing?" The senior's brow creased and his eyes averted down, clearly upset about something. 

"To be honest, I'm not sure. About twenty minutes after you had left, all of us started acting...weird."

"What do you mean weird?" 

"Well, at first we started getting paranoid, I noticed that the others started doing strange habits such as pacing around or anxiously looking back at the forest. Then I noticed that I was doing it too. Pretty soon we took an unanimous vote to go get you to make sure you were alright. Time seemed to realize that we were all acting out of place, so he ordered that only two of us should look for you while the others stayed at camp." In the Minish hero's eyes, Sky was rather disturbed by this. He had started to fiddle with the sail cloth he wore often, a sign that he was uneasy. But something told Four that there was more to it. Eager to break the silence, Four spoke up again. 

"So which ones did Time send? I know normally he would send his second in command but if I remember correctly he had a broken arm because of that bokoblin a week ago." The older hero nodded, relived that the subject had somewhat changed. 

"He sent the Captain and our youngest one. They said that they arrived as soon as you lost the power in your sword." One last question made his way out if his mouth. 

"Did they see which moblin got me from behind?" Sky looked up at him with a confused face. 

"No, they said that you had just lowered your arm while four moblins came at you from your front. They never saw anything from behind you. Are you sure you're feeling alright? You might have slipped on the rocks at one point and hurt your he-" 

"I'm not delirious!" Four shouted as he jumped from his chair, ignoring the pricks of pain. 

"I never said you were-"

 "But you sure did imply it. Look, I know what I felt and it sure wasn't some rocks. Now I need you to tell me where Captain and Wind are so that I can find some answers-wait a minute.." Now becoming aware that he was lashing out for no good reason, Four sat back down, trying to calm himself and recollect his thoughts.  The taken back Sky regained his composure and took a sudden interest in what the smaller hero had to say. 

"Go on." 

"I'm... I'm not sure if I can truly believe my idea, but I'll need the others to prove it," Sky sunk back in his chair, a look of annoyance crossed his face. "oh don't look at me like that! I just don't want to jump to conclusions without advice from more people. It's not like I'm excluding you." 

"But it sure feels like you're implying it." Mimicked the offended hero. Four winced at the comment and a wave of guilt went through him.

And I’m just gonna leave this right there to end this part.  Got to have something for the next one.  Boy do I love this AU.  But on the serious note, I’m probably not going to do fanfics on the more popular 3D games mostly because of this.  Anyways, this took longer than I thought it would, hope you guys like it!

[forestwater87]

She really should've been more prepared.

At the end of the day, that's what she'd kick herself for.

Chapter 5: Party

"Well, Gwendolyn. It's a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it hadn't been under such unusual circumstances."

Gwen glanced over at Campbell, trying to figure out what reaction she was supposed to have. On the one hand, clearly they were meeting with the Woodscouts crew to work out some sort of deal, and she definitely didn't want to fuck that up for them. On the other hand, Edward Pikeman made her skin crawl, and he'd tried to kill her boss's son, so it seemed the rules of proper etiquette were a little all over the place.

Campbell gave her a tiny nod without directly meeting her eyes, and she ducked her head, hoping the mini-bow made up for the fact that she couldn't muster up a smile. "It's, uh, good to see you, sir."

"Sir?" He quirked his eyebrow, smirking. "You've got her well-trained, Cameron. Most impressive. But you should watch this one — she's not very reliable."

She almost jumped as warm fingers closed over her own. David was ignoring the conversation between the two gang leaders, watching a family paddle around the lake with a detached, cheerful expression, but he squeezed her hand gently before settling back on his elbows and looking up at the clouds. That kind of affection had grown familiar at this point, and while Jasper had briefed them not to be too close with Pikeman around — he had a less-than-subtle interest in Gwen, and Campbell was hoping to exploit that if at all possible — it was more or less automatic for her body to orient itself closer to his, weeks of playacting creating pathways out of muscle memory.

Besides, it was sweet. She wasn't really used to sweet, and she hated to admit it was growing on her.

Campbell laughed, too loud and hearty to be genuine, and clapped Gwen on the back of the neck with an affectionate shake. "No worries, sport. I keep an eye on my people." And the warning to them both was so clear it chilled the air a few degrees, causing her to instinctively reach out for David's fingers again, because god she didn't want to be here. Gunfights and explosions were one thing, but she wasn't prepared to deal with this kind of manipulative tiptoeing.

His hand met hers halfway, like he’d been doing the same thing, and though they both pulled back at a warning glare from Hook — or Quartermaster, as the rest of the crew called him — it was nice, just for a second, to know she wasn't the only one here in over her head.

Gwen had been specifically told by the Quartermaster not to pay too close attention to whatever Campbell and Pikeman were talking about, and she was more than willing to let their words wash over and away from her, focusing instead on the people dotting the park. For a Saturday in June it was surprisingly sparse, and she began to wonder if that was something one of the crew leaders had designed. It made people-watching easier, at least: a group of kids screaming their way up the shore, two twenty-somethings doing their best impression of every romantic scene from The Notebook at the same time, a dweeby-looking teenage girl fiddling with her slouchy shoulder bag, and a creepy-looking motherfucker who was observing the PDA couple with way too much interest.

She returned her gaze to the kids, noticing with disbelieving amusement that David was watching them as well, a small wistful smile on his face. "Miss them already?" she murmured; if they weren't supposed to be paying attention, they might as well really not pay attention. "It's literally just the weekend, David."

"I-I know!" He blushed, turning away from the lake and pretending to be very invested in something at the other end of the park (while steadfastly ignoring the couple making out). "I just . . . like my job." He shrugged, glancing over at her with a shrug. "They're nice kids. I know it sounds stupid, but they make my day better." Gwen would have to disagree with them being anything but horrible goblins, but she thought it was sweet how much he loved them.

Fuck, David didn't belong here. So why were they?

She eyed the creepy guy again. He'd pulled out something in a paper bag, but she was fairly certain it wasn't a weapon. Still . . . Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and fiddled with the hem of her ankle-length skirt, looking around as casually as she could. Just a few inches from her twitchy fingers was a gun (hot pink and lime green, a gift from Jasper) that she really hoped she wouldn't have to use — a hell of a change from just a handful of months ago.Honestly, she'd gotten so used to the calm that she worried she was out of practice.

"It's a very reasonable request," Pikeman was saying, leaning in way too close to Campbell, "don't you think?"

"I think you should know better than to expect reasonable around here, Ed," Cameron replied with a grin, “especially considering you don’t have much room to make any type of request.” Of all of them, Campbell was the only one who seemed completely unperturbed by the weedy little twerp with the Hitler Youth bodyguards.

Turning her mind away from that conversation, Gwen continued surveying the park. Cute kids, obnoxious couple, shy girl, creep . . .

Wait.

Fuck.

"Mr. Ca —" she began, but before she could get the words out there was a blur of motion and a crack, and without thinking she twisted to the side and threw David to the ground, ignoring his startled yelp.

The ground behind them exploded, slicing the air where his head had been and splattering them with chunks of grass and dirt. The second the shot landed, Gwen grabbed David by his collar, hauling him upright and shoving him behind her while yanking free her ridiculous neon gun. There was something almost relaxing about staring down the barrel of that hideous weapon, a strange warm pleasure settling in her chest as she steadied her gun with her other hand and aimed at the bookish teenager's forehead.

"Dead or alive, sir?" she asked quickly, scrambling to her knees.

Of course, there were a lot of people she could've been talking to, which resulted in some confusion.

David gripped her hand blindly, face pale and spotted with specks of dirt like freckles drawn on with a marker. "D- dead?! You're not re-ally going to —"

"Well, it's not my decision, but I think alive would make things more interesting, don't you?" Pikeman interrupted.

Campbell's voice cut through the panic, and she latched onto it gratefully. "Don't worry about her, Gretchen dear. Why don't you just focus on getting Davey home?"

She hadn't even finished saying "Yes, sir" before she snatched David’s arm, shoving him ahead of her as they sprinted to a relatively more protected clump of trees. Behind her she could hear the sounds of returning fire, and she knew the police would be there in minutes.

Which meant they had to be very very gone very very soon.

Unfortunately, neither of them had cars. Why would they, in a city where the traffic looked like it hadn't moved in the last twenty years? But taking the bus was virtually suicide. She yanked her phone out of her purse, putting her gun in her bag and frantically pounding the touch screen.

"Hi Gwen! Having fun yet?"

"Can you get us transportation?" she asked abruptly, grabbing David's wrist and tugging him toward the sidewalk. Maybe they could get lost in the crowd . . .

Jasper laughed. "Are you crazy? The police've already set up roadblocks around the park! You're getting away on foot, guys." There was a few seconds of what sounded like rapid typing, then, "Okay, looks like there's a holdup near Park and Westmore, cops haven't gotten there yet. If you can get out through there before the hole closes, you won't be stopped."

Park and Westmore . . . "Okay, we can do that. But, uh, we might have to borrow something once we're in the road." Some sort of bike, hopefully, something that could weave through traffic without attracting more attention than the average douchebag motorist. "That could get David in trouble."

"Don't worry, we'll make it work. That's what I'm here for!"

Gwen wasn't sure if that meant Campbell would pay off whoever they robbed or just kill them, but decided it was better not to know. "Got it."

"Enjoy the rest of the party!"

She hung up without a goodbye, then grabbed dragged David toward the park entrance closest to the intersection Jasper had pointed out, weaving through trees and keeping an eye out for anyone. Whoever that assassin was hadn't caught up to them yet (between Campbell's crew and the Woodscouts, that girl didn't have great odds), but for a job like this, with so much firepower in one location, she'd be crazy not to have brought reinforcements.

"Gwe — !" David's hand ripped from hers, a bullet tearing through the tiny space between them and turning a nearby tree into wood chips. She whirled around to see another young woman — not the one who'd shot at them — holding a gun in her shaking hands. Her eyes widened when she took in Gwen's weapon, but she kept hers trained on David, who'd fallen to his knees and was pawing at his shirt, but seemed more bewildered than anything else.

"I promise you he's not worth it," Gwen said. She wasn't sure why she was even giving the girl a chance. Maybe David had softened her too much, but she wanted to at least try to let the kid walk away; she couldn't be older than fifteen. "Don't be stupid, you can still get out of here."

"I . . ." David started to climb to his feet and the girl's eyes dropped to him, her finger tightening on the trigger. Before she could shoot Gwen fired, watching her stumble back with her hands over her stomach.

"Come on!" Gwen grabbed him by the wrist and took off running before he'd even regained his balance, and for a second she was worried he'd fall over and she'd end up dragging him along the ground by his face. But he caught himself, his long legs keeping pace even though she was (in theory) in much better shape for this kind of thing.

"Wh —" She wasn't sure if his difficulty speaking was due to breathlessness or shock, "what did you — that . . . girl —"

"She'll be fine. I didn't aim for anything lethal." That was a blatant lie, but the last thing she needed was David having a panic attack. They reached the entrance of the park and stumbled into the street, Gwen scanning the frozen traffic for anything they could use to get away. “Fuck fuck fuck — there!” They weaved through the cars, nearly knocking over the bike idling on the other side of the street. “Hey, let us borrow this.”

The woman on the motorbike glanced between them, her plum-lipsticked mouth falling open in a small O. “Um . . .”

Gwen turned to David, a mess of embarrassment and nerves wringing his hands and a few seconds away from tugging his collar over his face, then to the owner of their escape vehicle. With a sigh — Jasper and Campbell really better be able to smooth this over — she tugged her neon weapon out of her handbag. “Not a request, lady.”

The woman’s face paled and she scrambled off the bike, the first bit of good luck they’d had this entire afternoon. Unfortunately she also shrieked, “Gun! She’s got a GUN!” at a volume that could shatter crystal, which suddenly made them the most noticeable people on the street.

With a muttered curse Gwen hauled him onto the bike behind her; she supposed it was also lucky that David looked like a kidnapping victim, even as he scrambled to hold onto her waist and buried his face in her low pigtails.

“Come on come on come on . . .” The bike started with a low hum, and she tried to remember everything her college boyfriend had taught her about riding motorcycles. They only wobbled slightly as she lurched onto the sidewalk, the impact jarring her teeth and making her wish she’d at least snagged the woman’s helmet for David.

But hindsight was a luxury to be enjoyed when not veering through stopped cars and terrified pedestrians.

David’s grip on her waist was almost painful, and despite the wind whipping past them she could hear his high-pitched, panicked breaths against the back of her neck. She wanted to tell him to calm down, if only so he’d stop cutting off her circulation, but there was no way she was going to waste a second on that, not when she could hear sirens growing closer. Silently praying he knew to hold on, she took a sharp right into an backstreet, nearly scraping them off against the ugly brick wall of the building looming above the small alley, and slammed the acceleration. She could see the traffic on Westmore at the other end of the alleyway, cars slowing but still creeping forward toward Park Street, and she sincerely hoped that meant the police hadn’t gotten there yet.

Come on, come on . . . Gritting her teeth, she slowed the bike to avoid crashing headlong into a pickup truck and took the turn out of the side street much more cautiously than going into it. If only she didn’t care about plowing over motorists . . . but “crazed couple faces several hit-and-run charges” was the exact kind of headline they didn’t want.

Unfortunately, that care (plus the few minutes it had taken to “borrow” a motorcycle) meant that the police were just arriving to set up roadblocks as they rounded the corner, sliding into a gap in the traffic as it slowed to a halt.

“What do we do now?” David whispered, still clinging to her even though the bike wasn’t moving. His voice shook a bit, as much as she could hear him trying to hide it.

“I . . .” Fuck, she wasn’t good at this. Well, she was -- getting out of places fast was one of the few talents she had -- but not without causing a lot more harm and attention than they could afford. Scanning the long row of townhouses as they slowly crawled by, she suddenly slammed on the brakes, jumping off the bike and grabbing David’s hand. “Come on, down here!”

“But --” He followed, wincing at the crash as the bike fell over. As they ducked into a small strip of grass between two of the houses, he lowered his voice and said, “what if someone’s home?”

He’d figured out her plan, she realized with a small glow of pride, dropping to her knees and fiddling with the doorknob on one of the townhouses’ side doors. “No one’s been home for a while,” she replied, scowling. Why was this lock so damn sturdy? “The mailbox out front was overflowing. If you ever go on vacation, cancel your fucking mail if you don’t want a break-in.”

David’s nervous frown cleared, replaced with a split-second smile. “That’s so clever, Gwen!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m a real Rhodes Scholar. Goddamn it!” she hissed as her lockpick broke. She should’ve taken Jasper up on his offer to get her a better one . . .

“Do you need help?”

She did, although what was he going to do, chirp the door open? Still, the cars on Westmore had completely stopped, and it wasn’t like she was getting anywhere. Gwen took a step back and let David take her place, using the time to think through their options.

There . . . weren’t a lot, honestly.

Someone had to notice them careening into the road, and plenty of people had noticed the abandoned motorcycle in the middle of the street, if the honking was anything to go by. They weren’t visible from the road at the moment, but they had five minutes if they were lucky.

There was no other side to this little yard; it backed up into another house, so they’d have to go out the way they came . . . unless they found a fire escape and could make it to the roof, which presented some issues of its own but had more options than where they were standing --

Click. David sprang to his feet as the door swung open, beaming at her like a kid showing off a magic trick. “There we go!”

Her muscles locked up temporarily, so that for a second all she could do was stare at him. Shaking herself out of her shock (and forcibly closing her mouth), she hauled him into the building, locking the door behind them and ushering them well out of view of the sidewalk. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He flushed. “Oh, the Quartermaster taught me! I was a real rascal of a kid, and, um, Mr. Campbell thought . . . to keep me safe . . .”

She’d been hunting through the front closet, but turned around when he trailed off. His eyes grew distant, and she noticed with some worry that he was still breathing hard. “Mr. Greenwood?”

The formality snapped him back to her, and he gave her a slightly quavering smile. “Of course, Gwen! We’re still working, aren’t we? Not out of the woods yet!”

Oh, fantastic. “You’ve been doing great, boss,” she said, hoping the praise would distract him from what felt distressingly familiar.

She was no stranger to panic attacks.

But of all the fucking times . . .

The grin sharpened a little, grew more steady. “Really?” he asked, and the knot in her chest loosened at the genuine pleasure in his voice.

She tugged a brown leather jacket out of the closet and shrugged into it. (No one was going to see her looking unladylike, and this place was cold. Besides, she liked leather.) “You’ve gotta teach me how you picked that lock. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be stuck out there.”

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but it was worth it to see him inflate a tiny bit more, straightening his shoulders and tugging at his bandana with a quiet chuckle. “That’d be fun.”

The sirens had stopped, and she risked a glance outside to see that while traffic was still stopped, there wasn’t an angry mob outside their door. The bike was still lying forlornly in the middle of the road. “Looks like we’ll be here for a couple hours, until the roadblock clears.” She led him to the small living area in the back of the building; she really didn’t like those windows by the street. “Can I take a look?”

His brow furrowed. “A look? At — oh!” He reflexively put his hand on his chest, wincing. “Of course.” He took a seat on a small round ottoman, unbuttoning his shirt and folding it before setting it aside. He was starting to look pale again, his movements losing their clumsy confidence and slowing as his brain got tripped up on his thoughts.

Time for another distraction. “We really need to get headsets or something,” she growled, unceremoniously tugging his body armor over his head and kneeling down to take a better look at his injury. It wasn’t bad: a large, ugly bruise from the impact grazing his side, but it hadn’t broken the skin. She’d still bandage it up, if for no other reason than to feel useful. She snagged the first aid kit out of her purse and set it in his lap, hoping the responsibility of holding it for her would help ground him. “We should’ve had Jasp in our ears the whole time.”

It worked; he cocked his head to the side, handing her an elastic bandage. “Did Mr. Campbell not give you anything like that?”

She paused. “I really need to remember my headset.”

David laughed, the sound cutting off with a pained hiss as she pulled the wrap tight and tied it off.

The storm had cleared, at least for now.

She climbed to her feet, setting the remaining bandages on the counter. “We can loosen it later if it’s bugging you,” she said, gesturing with her chin to his side as she crossed over to the couch and settled down. “Compression’s good for bruises, so right now we’re compressing.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet as she rooted out her phone and texted Jasper: ‘couldn’t get out. laying low in a house on westmore.’ She paused, biting her lip and watching David stare at his hands. ‘we’re okay. i think.’

“Hey, boss?” His head jerked up, eyes wide and startled like a deer’s. Gwen grabbed her handbag and tugged A Game of Thrones out of it. (She’d turned her purse into a real Bag of Holding, in part because she wasn’t used to being allowed — let alone expected — to carry around something so cumbersome. The damn thing weighed like thirty pounds, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t come in handy.) “Storytime?”

David brightened; storytime was his favorite part of the day at work. She was pretty sure he loved it more than the kids did. “Sure!”

With another quick glance out the window (no bike, but the traffic was still at a standstill), she settled back and listened to him read.

They had about ten minutes.

Ten minutes of quiet was a luxury in her line of work; if a mercenary complained about only having ten minutes to relax in the middle of a job, they’d be laughed at and then fired, and mayne shot for good measure. But she must’ve grown soft working for David, or just complacent.

Ten minutes of David’s soft lilting voice -- interrupted by occasional involuntary gasps as the book surprised him while he was reading -- before the peace was shattered with a spray of glass.

Brushing shards of the broken window off her dress with the sleeve of her jacket, she looked up to make sure David was all right; she paused on the way, her eyes landing on an innocent-looking plastic bar. For about half a second her mind whirred, trying to recognize why the damn thing looked so familiar.

Slim, almost dumbbell shape, large round holes —

“Shit, David —”

The world exploded.

Gwen sat up before her head had stopped spinning, hauling herself to her feet by clinging to the wall and trying to ignore the way the room looked like a blazing tilt-a-whirl. There was no way to tell how long she’d been out. She was alone in the room (she suspected the explosion had kept everyone in the road at a safe distance), but she couldn’t have more than a few minutes before the police came in to see what the hell had just happened.

Fucking stun grenades. She’d never liked them, not even back in her mercenary work. Too loud, too unpredictable, way too likely to set things on fire. (Jasper, of course, loved them for all these reasons.)

She couldn’t hear anything except a high-pitched ringing, and she’d never felt quite so vulnerable, exposed even with walls close on all sides and a veil of smoke blocking her from the doors and windows. But she wasn’t hurt, not beyond a few scrapes and an ugly-looking burn across the top of her foot where the explosion must’ve shot some debris. All the flashbang had done was . . . well, flash and bang.

Left her blind, deaf, and unable to walk, but in one piece.

“David?”

Sound was returning, faint and bloody like she was underwater, but clearing steadily. First the sound of sirens, only distinguishable from the ringing by its slight modulation, then a babble of panicked voices.

Closer, with the authoritative blare of a megaphone: “Eight, seven, six . . .”

“David, are you here?” Gwen staggered forward, trying to keep her voice down (though with her muffled hearing it was hard to tell). The grenade had landed on the table between them, so he should’ve been knocked flat by the explosion as well. But as she dropped to her knees — half in an attempt to escape the thickening smoke and half because her balance still wasn’t entirely back — the only thing she found was A Game of Thrones , the edges smoldering.

Okay, she wasn’t going to panic. She was a professional, even if the last several months had been less like a job and more . . . strange. He couldn’t have evaporated even in this extreme heat, so . . .

“Four, three —”

Fuck. Bolting to her feet, Gwen scooped up the book without thinking and lurched for the front door, snagging a chair from the kitchen. She shoved it under the door handle just as the countdown reached “one,” stumbling back and banging her hip against the coffee table without taking her eyes off the door.

“You have had the opportunity to exit the building. Now, we’re coming in!” There was a muttered order and then a thud that made her teeth rattle, but the door held. She breathed a sigh of relief and raced up the stairs leading off from the living room. It was a small townhouse, and she’d bought herself a few seconds.

Which was all it took to realize that this place was spotless, expensive, and completely empty. Wherever David was, it wasn’t here.

Maybe he’d stumbled outside? She could picture it, could see him pressing that stupid bandana to his nose and mouth, delirious with smoke and still reeling from the shock, and staggering into the waiting arms of the police. Even the thought of him leaving her behind wasn’t too crazy; David could be thoughtless, selfish even. (She’d once lost him at the mall for nearly two hours and had eventually found him kneeling by the loading area, holding out a pretzel she didn’t see him buy to a pigeon -- oblivious to her increasingly-frantic calls because he didn’t like his ringtone, so he put it on silent.) The idiot wandering outside with his brain almost literally rattled in his skull wasn’t out of the question.

There was another thud, louder and accompanied by the creaking of agitated wood. She hurried downstairs with her mind whirring furiously. If the police hadn’t already realized there was a back entrance, they would soon, and with the shattered window they might not even have to force entry. The right side of the building shared a wall with an identical townhouse, and the left framed the alley — making it her best bet, assuming she could squeeze her way through one of these freakishly tiny windows that cities always insisted on installing. Like there could possibly be too much light with buildings looming in every direc —

Focus, Santos. She lifted the kitchen window as quietly as possible, praying the sound wouldn’t alert the police in the front or back of the building, and slipped outside. It took some careful maneuvering to get her jacket covering the worst of the grass- and burn-stains, but within minutes she’d  ducked out of the alley, doing her best to look like a rubbernecking passerby. As she sidled onto the sidewalk, letting herself get swallowed up by the crowd, the front door to the townhouse opened, releasing billowing smoke from the dying fire.

So the police had found the back door. Saved her a minute.

She stood on her tiptoes, scanning the assembled officers in search of a flash of gleaming auburn, but the only redhead she saw was a cop with pixie-short hair and a too-sharp gaze that raked over Gwen’s clothes and hair. (She quickly checked to make sure her gun wasn’t visible, realizing belatedly that she couldn’t have looked more suspicious if she was wearing an overcoat and wraparound shades.)

The officer nudged her partner, leaning in without taking her eyes off of her, and Gwen turned and shoved her way through the crowd, breaking into a sprint when she heard someone shout, “Hey!”

Despite her lack of recent running-for-her-life, chasing after small children must’ve kept her in decent shape, since she managed to slip free of the police without trouble. But she didn’t stagger to a halt until several blocks from the house, slumping against the brick wall of an ancient electronics store. She fumbled for her phone — maybe David had contacted her, or maybe Jasper had gotten word — and caught sight of something on her hand. Figuring it was dirt or soot or something, she moved to wipe it off and froze.

It was smeared from sweat and friction, but she could still read the note scrawled across her palm in cheap blue pen:

DEG

17 S LIL

sorry

Her brain, still choked with smoke and recovering from being stunned, processed the words in reverse order.

Sorry. Someone was sorry . . . Well, after the fucking day she’d been through someone should be.

17 s l i l. Slil? 17s l—

South Lilac. She’d had a few jobs there, not well-paying but with little competition. It wasn’t a nice part of town, the kind of neighborhood that was regularly in the news.

And the letters. They took the longest to permeate her foggy brain, and when they did her struggling hold on clarity was wiped out in cold white panic.

D E G.

David

Ethan

Greenwood

They had David.

[littleindigochildx]

HFD ♡ (drabble/part 2)

“Mommy! Guess what I did while you were at work.”

Savanna beamed. She still had Sharpie stained hands (and a spot or two on her face) so it wasn’t hard for Victoria to guess that whatever her daughter did, it obviously involved markers. Still, the brunette played along.

“What did you make him, my butterfly?”

Victoria replied. Savvy’s blue eyes widened and she bounced with excitement.

“I maked daddy a present for Father’s Day. I think he’s really gonna love it.”

She replied proudly. She didn’t say

what

it was she made for David because she wanted it to be a surprise.

Victoria already knew what the gift was. Dora already explained to her that she was missing two mugs for the cafe, but Savanna didn’t know that. She still didn't know she had done anything wrong. Her mother didn’t seem angry or disappointed. Victoria encouraged her children to be creative just like Dora did for her and her siblings when they were younger. Mugs could be replaced but Savanna’s perfectly imperfect six year old doodles could not be.

“Guess what else I did.” The little girl said. She didn’t wait for Vic to reply before she opened the closet by the front door and pulled out two small boxes. The wrapping paper was a combination of Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas. There was tape everywhere. Savanna clearly wrapped the gifts herself. Each one topped with a shiny red bow and the recipient's name written in marker. “I maked one for DC, too.” She set both gifts on the coffee table. She couldn’t wait for her dad and Declan to open them. David would get his early since he would be back in California on Sunday. He was still trying to convince Victoria to let Timmy and Savanna go with him. He tried to guilt trip her by saying it would be nice to spend Father’s Day with his kids. He didn’t think it was fair that Victoria got them full time and he wanted them to spend the majority of their summer break with him.

“Mommy…” The little one looked up at Victoria. Her eyes seemed to change color with her emotion. “I know me an’ Timmy are goin’ ta dinner with daddy t’nite cause he won’t be here for Father’s Day...” She paused briefly. David and Victoria weren’t on the best terms at the moment, so Vic opted out of dinner this time. Savanna was a little sad about it. Timmy was even more upset. He still hoped his parents would mend their relationship and that they could all live under the same roof one day. He wasn't ready to give up hope just yet. “...But do ya think we can we make DC a special Father’s Day dinner on Sunday? I know he’s not my daddy, but he is Rannie and Polka Dot’s daddy… We should make him his favorite dinner.” Savvy wasn’t exactly sure what Declan’s favorite was, but she figured her mother probably did. She knew Declan better than anyone else… Probably even better than he knew himself. “We can make him dinner an’ then I can give him his present.” Savanna smiled. She was definitely stubborn when she wanted to be, but she had a heart of gold and in her eyes, Declan was family. Even if they weren’t related by blood.

—————

“Are they ready?” David asked as he fiddled with his keys. He couldn’t even look Victoria in the eye… Not after their last conversation. Deep down David knew Victoria still loved him, but she was no longer in love with him. She never meant to hurt him, but she couldn’t dull her true feelings towards Declan any longer. He was the one she wanted to be with… She had known that since they were teenagers. Their relationship was far from perfect, but she loved him anyway. She would always love him.

“Just about.” Victoria replied. She held the poorly wrapped gift Savanna made for David until the little girl joined her. “Are ya sure you can’t come too?” Savanna asked her mom one last time. Victoria tucked a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear as she bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “Not this time, butterfly... But you guys have fun without me. Okay?” She kissed the little girls forehead before Timmy joined them. Victoria kissed his head too. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Perhaps she was putting too much trust in David. He had been hinting to her that he wanted to take the kids back to California for weeks now. Who was to stop him from skipping town with them now that she wasn’t there to chaperone?

Thanks to his mother, the idea had crossed David’s mind more then once. It would be so easy for him to blow off dinner entirely to pick up and leave with his children. It’s not like it was really kidnapping. They were his flesh and blood too. There was no custody arrangement in place yet because (until recently) there hadn’t been a need for one. He was merely a father spending time with his offspring. If it wouldn’t put his professional reputation at risk… He probably would have done it, but how would it look if Dr. David Thorne was arrested for the kidnapping of his own children?

A tiny voice from the back seat pulled David out of his daydream. It was Savanna. She had to call him a few times before he responded. “What, Princess?” His skin would have crawled if he knew that was the same nickname Declan had given Victoria. “Me an’ Timmy wanna pay for dinner t’nite. We been savin’ up all our allowance money. We didn’t even buy ice cream!” Realistically, they probably didn’t have enough to cover the bill and the tip, but David would sneak in the difference. The gesture was nice and he was proud of his kids. They worked hard for their allowance and understood the value of a dollar. “Are you sure you want to spend all that money on me?” He asked as he looked at their angelic faces through the rear view mirror. Timothy and Savanna nodded in unison. “This is your special day… Even if it’s not really Father’s Day yet.” Savvy replied for the both of them.

—————

A few minutes later they arrived at their destination. A Dave & Busters just outside of Limbo. It wasn’t David’s first choice in terms of dining location, but today wasn’t about the food. It was about spending time with his kids… Even if that meant spending $200 on games and low quality prizes. “You know the rules, right?” David spoke once they were settled at the table. “Dinner first, then games.” Timmy replied. He had always been better about clearing his plate than Savanna, especially recently, so he wasn't worried about it. “The same goes for you.” David told his youngest. Savvy nodded to let him know she understood. “But don’t forget, daddy… We are payin’ for dinner.” She reminded him. “Ya gotta eat all your food too or no present.” She gave him a serious look at first, but broke out in a giggle when he gasped like he was shocked. “Those are the rules.”

—————

“Before we go play…” Savvy put her gift on the table. “Ya got’a open this first.” She swung her legs back and forth as they dangled from her chair. She was tempted to rip the paper off for him to speed up the process, but she let him do it himself. When the paper was removed, David opened the box and pulled out a white ceramic mug colorfully decorated in pictures by Savanna. On one side she wrote I love you daddy. xo, Savvy. On the bottom she put Happy Father’s Day and the year. “Do ya like it?” She looked up at him with the biggest grin. David pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. “I love it.” He replied. “I’ll use it every day, Princess.”

Timothy also got David a gift. It was a model car they had been working on for months. He finally finished it on his own and had done a pretty good job. “This is fantastic, buddy. I’m going to put it in my office where everyone can see it.” David told him. While it wasn’t exactly the Father’s Day he envisioned, his day was pretty perfect. Victoria was doing a great job raising their children and (all differences aside) he couldn’t have hand picked a better mother for them even if he was given the option.

----------

A couple hours later, David brought the kids home. Savanna had fallen asleep in the back seat clutching the giant stuffed Husky she won, while Timmy yawned and rubbed his eyes as he yawned into the Pikachu he picked out.

“Dad?” Timmy said once David cut the engine. The front porch lights flicked on. It was late for the kids. Victoria was probably worried sick, especially since they were running so late. David was supposed to have them back an hour ago, but they lost track of time. “What is it, buddy?” David asked as he turned around to face his son. “I had’a lot of fun.” Timothy looked over at his sleeping sister. “I think Savvy did too.” He gave a tired smile. “I had a lot of fun too, pal.” David admitted. The night put a nice dent in his wallet, but he would happily drain his bank account to keep a smile on his children’s faces.

“Sorry we’re late. We were having so much fun, I forgot to check the time.” David apologized. Timmy had already given his father a hug and kiss before heading up the stairs. He was so exhausted, he was likely to pass out the second his head hit the pillow. “Thanks for this… For letting me have them for the night.” He passed a sleeping Savanna over to Victoria. The little girl stirred, but just barely. “Don’t forget this. She worked so hard to win him.” He handed the Husky over too. “A Father’s Day for the books.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his attention to look at her, finally. “We’ve got some pretty great kids, Vic.” He admitted. David let the comment hang in the air as silence fell between them. "You should probably get her to bed... Sorry again." And with that, David turned to head back to his car. He had a long drive ahead of him and so much to think about.

...To be continued.

[hollyhockash]

Replay Value Bliss Stage hack

Bliss Stage is an indie tabletop that bears just barely enough resemblance to Replay Value for me to write an article like this. In the original flavor, it is a game of Teens Pilot Giant Mechas That Are Metaphors For Social Relationships. (The anime resemblance is apparently intentional.) If Bliss Stage were to be used as the framework to play a Replay Value-based game, it would play out extremely differently. But it might just be workable.

If you are not familiar with the Replay Value setting, this writeup's extensive references to parts of the setting will not make much sense. If you are not familiar with Bliss Stage, I don't talk about major swathes of the rules because I am not altering them, so you'll be missing context. If you are familiar with neither Replay Value nor Bliss Stage, good luck...?

Characters and PCs

Replay Value has much less of a metaphysical separation between PCs and NPCs than Bliss Stage does. As such, I almost want to make every character either Pilot-shaped or non-Pilot-shaped and see what happens. But only almost. See, the thing is, making every character Pilot-shaped leads to a rapidly escalating complexity of bookkeeping, and making every character non-Pilot-shaped means stripping out most of the interesting parts of the system.

I guess this means that there's a metaphysical separation between PC and NPC, but there is no narrative separation. That's awkward - workable, but definitely not the system's intended use case.

Bliss Stage has a special character called the Authority Figure that is the in-game representation of the GM. Again, there is far less of a distinction between the veteran, the regular, and the newcomer in Replay Value, and -- more importantly -- I have to completely replace the Missions subsystem anyway.

The AF's role is mechanically replaced by the impersonal force of Sburb. Players can still have social relationships with Sburb in the usual way, although the meanings of Intimacy and Trust are somewhat changed.

Not Missions

Obviously, using a dreamworld to pilot a giant robot made of feelings is not exactly Replay Value-compatible. So the Missions would need to be replaced entirely.

The Not Missions in this system would presumably be various attempts to venture into physically dangerous parts of Sburb, like dungeon-delving, Nightmare Heir battles, Underworld jaunts, or pushes on the Battlefield. I don't know how they would be represented mechanically, but they do retain the important similarity that you take your social relationships in with you as lifelines, and that they give you power.

Anchors do not exist, and as such their narrative roles do not exist either. However, the relationship with Sburb fulfills some of the same roles - for example, your Sburb relationship and relationship dice are always in play whenever you are in a Not Mission, and destruction of this relationship can be extremely dangerous.

In summary, there are lots of question marks here.

Intimacy

Replay Value being a game about internet friends, most of the Intimacy ladder markers are inherently unworkable.

This is my first-pass guess, based on how things seemed to work when I was playing RV Classic. Intimacy 4 is weirdly narrow, and is most likely idiosyncratic to the way that I, and people close to me, handled characters - if you have any better ideas, feel free to add them.

Intimacy 1

Seeing someone's chumhandle

Intimacy 2

"pass the time" talk about hobbies

being in the same Sburb session

talking about the less emotionally volatile parts of Sburb (i.e. the finer points of Sburb's house-building interface, alchemization, how Lands look, being someone's server player)

Intimacy 3

talking about the more emotionally volatile parts of Sburb (such as the dialogue used by the Nightmare Heir, or killing one's Denizen)

exchanging pictures of each other

relatively transient expressions of emotional attachment or sexual interest (such as saving a joke in anticipation for someone's return, or hooking up with someone for the session)

saving someone else's life (remember, this is Sburb, saving other coplayers' lives is a routine occurence)

Intimacy 4:

telling this person about a fundamental trauma that you have never talked to anyone about before (such as the circumstances of your Prenative or Native session, loss of a previous Intimacy 5 relationship, or killing another Replayer)

interaction with this person results in permanent changes to your body and/or mind (among other things, this includes major injury such as having a limb cut off, with the implicit understanding that the Door will not restore this particular injury, and therefore it will be permanent - but it also includes, say, confessing to someone that you have a "what would [you] do?" sense in your brain now)

Intimacy 5

declaring that you are really, truly going to make a permanent connection to this person, despite knowing full well that Replaying will inevitably break any and all attempts at permanency (this includes but is not limited to marriage, adoption, eternal friendship, or deciding that this is the person who will fill one of your quadrants for the rest of your life)

The "solo" interlude

Players can hold interludes with Sburb being the other "participant". Aside from the typical issues that arise when attempting to have a relationship with the universe, this is still mechanically considered a normal relationship and interlude. However, Intimacy is escalated by learning major gamebreaks (or other major strategies/techniques for dealing with parts of the Game, such as understanding what exactly contributes to carapace rep), Stress is relieved by taking the Game at its word and functioning within it without breaking anything, and Trust is increased by taking more time to perfect the techniques and gamebreaks that you already have.

I am not sure if an Intimacy table for one's relationship with the Game exists, mostly because while I have some intuitive ideas for what each number means, I can't find any common threads.

Stats and such

The relationship matrix is great and will be kept in exactly the same form as in normal Bliss Stage.

Presumably Bliss would need to be renamed. I would suggest that you not fiddle with the number too much - despite the (say) obvious Homestuckism of having 413 Not Bliss be the limit, it would dramatically alter the pace of the game.

Mechanically, this uses the "long game of Bliss Stage" rules, including using missions to promote NPCs to PCs and the keep-picking-new-Hopes thing.

Hopes

The only way to make major changes to the setting, in this system, is to have it be the result of your last dying (or equivalent removal-from-play) action. Thus, for example, instead of doing a Bargain for a Ring server, you would Replay until you reached your utter limit, and then give yourself to the Horrorterrors to ensure the existence of said Ring server for future generations.

This would result in the game having a "we will not live to see the fruits of our labor, but we still work towards them for future generations" theme/feel. This is not thematically aligned with my Replay Value AU, but - as I stated at the very beginning - I can recognize just enough of Replay Value in this game that this was worth writing.

[jae-bummer]

1000 Hearts (Monster AU)

Comments: This wasn’t a request, but this is an idea I’ve been toying around with for awhile. Be gentle. 

Member: Seventeen’s Junhui x Y/N x Mingyu

Type: fluffy angst? angsty fluff? idk…it got kinda dark fam.

The Kumiho (구미호), or Gumiho*, is a nine-tailed fox spirit. In Korean tradition, foxes that have lived for a thousand years, accumulating a great deal of energy, turn into Kumiho. The Kumiho is similar to other fox creatures, such as the Japanese kitsune and Chinese huli jing. Though they have similar magical abilities and longevity, Kumiho are more malevolent than other fox spirits. Of these long-lived legendary creatures, the Kumiho is the only fox that kills and eats humans.

Junhui scoffed as he navigated the headstones. He dodged the marble gracefully and with an ease not at all human in characteristic. His moves were soft, but deliberate. He was careful in his purpose. 

“Seems like an awful lot of work for a small amount of payoff,” Mingyu sighed, trudging behind him. 

“Yah, when did you get here?” Jun grumbled, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at his inconvenient companion. 

“Just finished dinner and figured I’d see what my favorite humanitarian was up to,” Mingyu chuckled. 

Junhui rolled his eyes, thinking it would go by unnoticed in the dark night, forgetting for just a moment that Mingyu was exactly like him. His eyes were quick and he didn’t miss the small details. 

“Rude,” Mingyu spat, poetically tripping over a vine, but catching himself with ease. 

“Keep watch of your feet,” Junhui whispered, attempting to hide the laugh on the edge of his lips. “Don’t want to wake the dead.” 

“I don’t know how this place doesn’t creep you out,” Mingyu muttered, shaking his head. 

Jun snorted as he looked back at Mingyu. “Because what you do on a daily basis doesn’t creep you out?”

Mingyu shrugged. “Your sensibilities are geared toward the living, mine are geared toward the dead. Two sides of the same coin, Jun my boy.” 

“No…two different coins,” Jun argued, finally slowing his pace as a mound of fresh dirt came into his line of sight. He paused at the fresh grave and bit his lip. Stretching out his arms he felt himself slowly begin to change into his natural form, the more fox like version of himself. 

“Ah, there’s my handsome guy,” Mingyu smiled, leaning against a nearby grave marker. “I still don’t understand why you do this to yourself.”

Jun looked up, his face and arms covered in dirt. “Because I’m not a monster.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Mingyu hissed. “But we’re all monsters.”

“Not me,” Jun insisted, nearly three feet of the six down into the earth. 

“We were all given this fate,” MIngyu continued. “Strung along by humanity, but not given the full extent of a human life. To get their life force you have to eat their hearts, fresh hearts, Junhui. You’re getting no where with the human equivalent of a frozen, microwavable meal.” 

Jun had dug down to the coffin, it’s wood grain not even aged a day. “I’m not killing a thousand people to become human. At least this way…I’m not responsible.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, shifting his weight on the marble beneath him. “I’m roughly 900 in. I’ll be a human by spring and I don’t have to wait around for the bastards to die. It’s much quicker my way. How many have you eaten?” 

Jun remained quiet as he carefully lifted the casket’s lid. He gazed sadly upon the face of the small boy lying there, not much older than ten. “Seven hundred and two,” he responded. 

Mingyu grunted, shaking his head. “You’ve been in this form nearly a hundred years longer than I have. Quit being so soft.”

Jun fiddled with the thin fabric of the boy’s button down shirt, cursing at his luck. He always seemed to find the children. “Quit being an ass. Have a little more respect.”

“Says the man about to eat a dead boy’s heart,” Mingyu whispered. 

Jun looked away as he slid a sharp nail down the boys abdomen. After hundreds of years, he still wasn’t able to watch himself puncture the fragile skin of a human. He was soft. 

“Have you ever thought about trying a live one?” Mingyu asked, slowly approaching the grave. He plopped onto the ground, his feet sitting lightly on the end of the coffin. 

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” Jun grumbled, his mouth full. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Then why haven’t you exactly?” Mingyu prodded. 

“We’ve gone over this, I don’t want to be responsible-” Jun began, only to be cut off. 

“It’s because you’re scared, isn’t it?” Mingyu gasped. “That’s what it is. The thought of killing one of them scares you shitless.”

“You speak with such disdain for something you want to become,” Jun grumbled, his pride a bit hurt. “But I’ll have you know, I’m not frightened. I just have no desire.”

He was lying through his teeth. He knew it. Mingyu knew it. Hell, the dead kid even knew it.  It had been nearly 900 years since Jun had turned into this malevolent creature, but he constantly fought back on his evil desires. If he had to do despicable things to become a human, they would at least be on his terms. He had never killed anything in any of his past lives and he wasn’t planning to now. No matter how appealing the idea of a fresh, beating heart sounded. As a kumiho, he was destined to consume a thousand human hearts if he ever wanted to become mortal. He hated the idea of killing someone almost as much as he had hated what he had become. 

“Just try one,” Mingyu urged. “And I’ll leave you alone. For a century even.”

“You said you’d be human by spring,” Jun muttered. “I was looking forward to only having to put up with you for three more months anyhow.”

“I will make those three months a living hell,” Mingyu smiled with a quick wink. 

“Too late, I’m already there,” Jun muttered, closing his eyes as he looked down at the boy. He slowly closed the lid of his casket, the thudding noise echoing through the night. He pulled himself from the hole and instantly began to cover it again. 

“Come on Jun, just one. I’ll pick it out and help you and everything,” Mingyu nodded, his face eager. Jun sighed, tilting his head to the side as he looked to his one and only friend in this godforsaken world. 

“If it’ll make you shut up, and you promise to do the bulk of the atrocities, fine,” Jun spat. “Now help me cover this kid.”

Jun blinked wordlessly as he and MIngyu stood across the street from their apartment building. 

“No,” Jun whispered, shaking his head. “No way.”

“She’s who I pick,” MIngyu nodded. “I’ve decided, no takebacksies.”

Jun remained tight lipped as he watched you, hustling up the steps leading into the building and swinging the door open. Your headphones were deep within your ears. You tossed your hair, nearly falling as you caught one of the headphones and knocked yourself off balance. 

“She’s our neighbor Mingyu,” Jun hissed. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were one of the most treasured humans he had met in his short 900 years. He had been scorned by love far too often in his lifetime, so he let those feelings lay dormant when it came to you, but it still didn’t mean they weren’t there. You were brilliant, gracious, and radiant. You handled he and Mingyu well these past few years. 

“Isn’t it perfect?” Mingyu giggled in glee. “My favorite part is the cover up. We’ll make it look like a forced entry. She seems a bit compliant, so I don’t think she’ll put up much of a fuss.” 

“I won’t do it,” Jun whispered, watching your frame carefully as you appeared in different windows, climbing the three flights of stairs to find the safety of your apartment. 

“Aish, the difference between Chinese and Korean fox spirits, I swear,” Mingyu grumbled, stepping forward into traffic. “I guess I have to do the damn thing myself.”

“Mingyu!” Jun gasped, reaching out for him, but leaning back as a scooter sped by. Cursing to himself, he kept a careful eye on cars as he hustled across the road, trying to keep up with his friend. 

Jun raced up the steps, Mingyu barely in the distance as he mounted the stairs much more efficiently. He had Jun by at least a hundred years, so it was no surprise that he moved with the swiftness of a fox half of his age. Jun’s labored breaths echoed down the stairways, only pausing when he met the third level and made eye contact with MIngyu. 

His face was wild, barely able to hide the monster within. It was true that when kumiho entered human form, something about their features remained similar to a fox. Mingyu was so excited, that every time Jun blinked, he was unsure if he was staring at the human MIngyu or the demon within. 

Mingyu’s fist hit the door with a heavy knock. Jun shuffled quickly to stand behind his counterpart, his own fist wrapping around MIngyu’s shoulder just as you pulled open the door. 

“Oh hey guys! What’s up?” you smiled, tossing a hand carelessly through your bangs. You smiled up at the men fondly. 

What a fool, Jun thought. To trust strangers so completely. 

“Wanted to visit, we were right behind you coming up the stairs,” Mingyu nodded, attempting to shoulder past you. Jun kept his firm grip on the slightly taller boy, locking him in place. 

“But we have a lot of work to do,” Jun nodded. “We’ll have to talk later though.”

You looked up with furrowed brows, eying them suspiciously. “Okay?”

Jun nodded, pushing Mingyu towards their apartment. Mingyu whined, stomping his feet as Jun all but drug him. You closed your door slowly, biting your lip at the strange development. You couldn’t say you were necessarily surprised, the boys were the definition of unique. As your door clicked and you fastened the lock, you could hear their muffled shouts echo down the hallway. 

“You’re only delaying the inevitable,” MIngyu gasped. “I’ve set my sights on her and won’t rest until her heart is mine.”

You clutched your chest as you kept your ear tight to the door. You had no idea that the odd and aloof Mingyu had any feelings for you. 

“I swear to you,” Jun hissed. “I can’t physically kill you, but I will set you on fire.” 

Your eyes grew wide as you pushed your face even harder against the door. Had you unknowingly been placed in a love triangle? 

“Do you…do you like her?” Mingyu whispered. “Her?!” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jun spat. “Get inside.”

You heard their apartment door slam just as you opened yours only a few inches. The shouting grew louder, but this time behind their own walls. You grinned to yourself as you shut your door as well, locking it once again. 

Two boys vying for your heart, it couldn’t be any better, could it?