#tw: existentialism

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Two: Cruel New World

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's your first-day living life in Wayne Manor. A new house, a new school, and of course there's the new siblings thing too.

Warnings: Negativity, Damian's Jealous, Talks of Death, Numbness, Depression, Disassociation,t Misandry, Crying, Suicidal Thoughts (if u squint), Existentialism, Cursing, Yelling, Outbursts, Anti-Police Rhetoric, Injury, Blood, Catcalling

Mentions of: Suicide, Body Fluids (mucus),

Words: 6.7k

A/N: POV kind of switches in some points, but I think it's fine. You know when it's the reader and when it's more of a third-person pov.

"Please take a seat, Miss Wayne," Alfred suggests as he pulls out a chair directly center of the long black cherry wood table. Your father sits at the opposite end of the room at the head of the table, while a smaller black-haired child sits with his back to the kitchen doors. There's one other person who sits directly across the table from where Alfred stands behind the chair meant for you.

"Are you serious? We really have to do this today of all days?" The child whines.

"I thought I told you no technology at the table this morning, Tim," Your father tells the person you're meant to sit across from. Ipad propped up on the table beside his plate, the teenage boy's grayish-blue eyes remain on the screen for a few moments as he shovels forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. In a tacit conversation, they make eye contact for a moment before he flips the cover back over the device and shoves it into the backpack by his feet. "Thank you.”

"You know, Bruce, I really need to get this essay done by this afternoon.” Tim—as you now know—explains.

"Oh? And what's it on?" Always wanting to get more involved in the kids' lives, Bruce attempts some sort of civil conversation other than indulging the begrudging eye-roll Damian throws him from across the table.

"It's on-" Tim begins to explain.

"You're really making us eat breakfast all together at-" Damian interjects.

"-the table like the nice, loving family we are? Pssh, you're lucky everyone's actually here this morning!" Dick cuts Damian off in an attempt to dissuade the boy's frustrations and some of his, perhaps just, points. Walking over to his chair he pulls it out enough to plop down.

"Everyone's coming?! Just for her?!" Damian, as you now know, complains.

"I'm afraid Stephanie has a doctor’s appointment, and Jason is... well," Bruce doesn't finish his explanation as he glances around the table.

"Jason," Dick defends, even if he's still somewhat suspicious of the man's current motives. "You'll meet them later, I'm sure," he tosses toward you as he sits at his chair between Tim and Damian still tying his tie.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have work? It's a Tuesday!" Damian chastizes Dick.

"Well if you must know, I have a few suspects I need to bring in for interviews today. They're extraditing a few people since the uptick last week."

"But I thought that-" A look from Dick makes Damian's thoughts linger in the air for a moment as he cuts himself off. Right. Next subject.

"I'm a detective over in Bludhaven," he explains to you, "Luckily I don't live here anymore, so... hopefully that lessens the overwhelming sense of a constant presence of people," he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

With a nod, you finally reach for your fork. It’d been bad enough that it seems more and more people are continuing to engage you when really, it’s been hell enough to process all the transitions currently taking place in your life. While it’s nice in some sense that you’d have breakfast with your Mom on school days like this, having someone cook for you, let alone push in your chair is… well… strange.

“Hello? He’s talking to you,” the sassy child spits at you, garnering your attention. Eyes flitting from him to the person sitting across from you beside Tim, you offer what you can in an attempted smile. It comes across more as a grimace than anything. The Detective politely calls your name, finally tightening his tie as he finishes dressing.

“It’s okay, I get it. This is all a lot. I asked if you ate breakfast with your—“ he spares a quick glance at your Father before it settles back on you, “—Mom, often before everything?”

Though he smiles and has a jovial and pleasant attitude, you can’t bring yourself to really return the favor. While he’s extending an olive branch of friendship, one you’d usually take up, you’re unable to. “Yeah. Nothing like this though,” you mutter, voice surprising even you with the quiet quality to it.

While the rest of breakfast is filled with questions and trivial conversation, you feel off, with a weary sense of the world. It’s almost like everything is a dream. Once you’ve finished your food, your eyes raise to take in the vase of flowers and candles on either side of it in their ornate silver holders sitting in the middle of the table. “Can I be excused?” Suddenly turned toward your Father, you await his hesitant permission before getting up and heading back to the room they’ve deemed yours just last night.

“She didn’t even look up at me when she answered any of my questions. That’s not good,” Dick points out. There's a hint of concern in his voice as he eyes Bruce.

“She’s probably still grieving her Mom. It only happened yesterday,” Tim proposes with a shrug as he looks up at Dick, who sits to his left.

“Shit,” Dick whispers.

“Do we even know how it happened?” Damian asks from the end of the table, hands clasped in front of himself like a miniature businessman.

“Damian,” Tim whispers with hostility, eyeing him for the inappropriate nature of his comment. Though he’s also curious, as it seems Dick is too, as they all look toward Bruce.

“What? I mean, her Mom dies and suddenly she’s a Wayne? No way,” Damian speaks with confidence.

With a clearing of his throat, Bruce stands. “It’s true. I… hadn’t-“ he begins, though hesitates as this wasn’t really a conversation he’d wanted to have with his teenage son of all people. “It wasn’t planned. It was a one-time thing back when I was a little more reckless with keeping up my image.”

“So during your Party Bruce years? Oh my god,” Dick quietly laughs with incredulity. He’d known about it, sure, that ‘phase’ of his Father… yet he hadn’t anticipated him to be that reckless. The look of guilt upon Bruce’s face is all it takes for them to know it’s true.

“I did the math, I looked into her mother’s history, and… it all adds up. I wouldn’t have taken custody of her yesterday if I wasn’t certain.”

“So she was an accident? Ha!” Damian laughs as if he wasn’t technically an accident on his Father’s behalf as well.

“Hey! I will not hear any jokes or have any information imparted on her with dislike. It wasn’t her fault, and I won’t see anything but acceptance and welcoming from you three, will I?” His stern voice sends chills down their spines to some degree. While Bruce doesn’t often take up a fatherly role in terms other than the awful jokes and rare wistful advice, this is a side none of them have ever gotten quite used to.

“Fine. But I’m not changing my entire life around for her. Jon is still coming over after school,” Damian announces with a click of his tongue and a cross of his arms over his chest.

“Good. Now I know this absolutely will not leave the room but I looked into her cause of death last night and it was a car crash.” With that, Bruce leaves the table.

“Sometimes things are just life, I guess,” Dick thinks aloud, still processing the information.

How cool is it that this room has a window seat? Absolutely awesome! Unfortunately, that’s not something you can fully appreciate as everything has already started to feel numb. They’d explained at the hospital that it’d been a car crash. You know the number of stitches they’d placed, the degree of burns she’d taken as they attempted several grafts to save her life… yet it wasn’t enough. There was nothing they could do. A frown overtakes your expression as a pinch of immense sadness pricks your heart.

“I’ll do it-“ you hear his voice from outside the door, “-I’m sure.” With three knocks and no response, it creaks open. Unbothered to check who it is, you watch as the rain droplets roll down the leaves on the tree outside your window and slowly drip toward the ground below. He clears his throat and shifts on his feet before speaking. “I really hate to do this to you. I know everyone processes things in their own time, but I’ve got to make arrangements on top of work today and so the best thing I can think to do is get you into a routine.” A look in his direction is all it takes; uniform neatly folded in his extended arms, your Father presents it to you with a sympathetic look on his face.

“What about Melville High?” The question leaves your lips, and all he can think is that you’re too innocent for this world. He doesn't even know you, but already the world has taken too much from you.

“It’s… too far, I’m afraid. Gotham Metro Academy is where Damian goes, and it has a lot of better opportunities from what I’ve seen. I’m sure you’ll like it once you get settled in.”

It isn’t the end of the conversation. While you’re barely responding, he imparts as much wisdom and comfort as he’s able, but it goes in one ear and out the other. All too soon you find yourself running your hands over the lapels of your navy uniform’s blazer. A prep school with uniforms was something you’d never imagined in your future—in fact—it’d been far from it! Growing up with enough money to keep you comfortable was fine, but prep school was never in the cards. You and your Mom knew that. Without too much thought to your hair and any accessories or makeup, Alfred is rushing you downstairs and into the awaiting Rolls Royce.

“Had you ever been to Gotham prior, Miss?” Alfred asks from the driver’s seat as you pull away from the infamous Wayne Manor. It looks much more opulent and welcoming in the daylight, yet it still has an intimidating air of aristocracy to you.

“Um… just once, a long time ago.” It hurts your chest to think about; there’d been a weekend you’d gone with your Mom a few years back when she’d wanted to show you all the sights. From the shows to the Financial District, to the historical sights and monuments, it’d been a weekend to remember, truly. If memory serves you right, you even still have a sweater and baseball cap tucked away somewhere from that trip.

Expecting some sort of snarky remark from the child you’ve deduced is Damian, you finally take him in. Sure, everyone’s heard of him. He’s a celebrity for what it’s worth: ‘Bruce Wayne’s Secret Son’ the headlines read. It was national news at the time, his Mom still remaining a mystery. His skin is darker than yours, and while his eyes are a striking green, you can’t deny that he has a resemblance to your Father. Neither can you deny your resemblance, either, really.

“What?” Damian finally bites. With a quiet, automatic ‘sorry’ and a shift of your eyes out the window and away from the kid on his phone, you can’t help but think about it.

Was Bruce Wayne really as much of a playboy as the media made him out to be? Yours and Damian’s mom would surely proffer the confirmation. Yet, having met the legendary man behind the technological empire, you aren’t sure he really seems the type. As much as your mother tried to keep you from boys and men, you’d met more than your fair share of assholes. Womanizers, scumbags, misogynists; no matter the differences in look or personality, there were always a few similarities they’d have in common, usually in their speech, behavior, or beliefs.

Nevertheless, it’s odd that you’ve been able to place the term ‘Father’ in his grasp so easily. Your mother had feigned a forgetful memory oftentimes when you’d ask during your childhood. Only offering the slightest of details and assuring you that he’d left the both of you as a baby. It was only as you grew that she eventually let you know that whatever relationship the two of them had, it wasn’t as serious as one would expect of a mother and father. She’d never named him, exactly, having always told you it wasn’t important. He wasn’t worth searching for, seeking out, begging for some answer you surely didn’t want to hear. Why? Why did you leave us? Why don’t you care about us? It was all a waste of time. That much, you knew. Never, even in your dreams would you imagine it’d be the Bruce Wayne.

Before you know it, the trees and streetlights are turning into buildings and stoplights. While you're nervous about going to a new school, it also provides a bit of excitement at the thought of reinventing yourself and making new friends. Surely with the funding from Wayne Enterprises, it'll have more clubs, activities, and maybe more sports, too. You'd always wanted to try out for sports or even be on the varsity squads if possible. As the car slows along the street, Alfred meets your anxious eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Damian, I expect you'll be there if Miss--" he says your name, "--needs anything. I'm going to park the car and escort you inside, as there happens to be a bit of preliminary paperwork your Father has requested I accompany you to fill out."

Surprisingly, Damian doesn't refute Alfred's sentiment, though as he parks the car, your half-brother hastily exits, headphones still in his ears as he scrolls through his phone. A quiet 'see ya later' is heard before the door slams shut. Soon enough you've filled out the registration forms and are given a schedule and tour. Alfred offers you a courteous nod and a lingering hand on your shoulder before he departs for the day. "I'll be here to pick you up when the school lets out. You can do this, Miss," he assures with a warm smile.

It was somewhat embarrassing that you'd had to interrupt class to join in on eleventh-grade, American Literature, yet upon introduction, it doesn't go past your observation that many of the kids start whispering to one another. While a few people attempt to talk to you, for the most part, you feel overwhelmed with all the information and the way the lesson quickly continues. Trying to catch up and take everything in, it all feels like too much, and the unintentional tendency to disassociate naturally begins to happen. You zone out for most of the classes, the day passing in whirlwinds and sympathetic smiles from the teachers.

When school lets out, you find Alfred exactly where he'd parked this morning in front of the school. Leant against the car with his hands clasped in front of him, you begin making your way down the steps to meet him. Two boys quickly pass you, both laughing as they playfully smack one another's arms and talk in hushed voices. As you approach the car you realize it's Damian and some boy. He has friends? Who would be friends with him? He seemed so rude earlier, you can't help but think. Maybe he's just upset because you came along.

"Who's this?" The boy in the blue jacket asks as he watches you join Alfred.

"Mister Kent," Alfred greets the boy, "I take it you'll be joining us tonight?" When the boy flashes a white smile full of bright teeth up at him with an eager nod, you take it this is a family friend.

"She's... apparently Dad's daughter," Damian reveals, eyes slicing across the space till the intimidating green orbs land on you. "Don't mind her. I planned a few things we could maybe do when we get to the Manor! I just got Mario Kart Ten and it's supposed to have a bunch of new maps and characters!"

Upon Alfred opening the car door, all three of you slide into the vehicle, the boy separating you and Damian in the backseat. "So... your sister, you mean," He laughs. Despite what he'd said about ignoring you, the boy turns his smile your way with an extension of his hand. "I'm Jon! Damian's best friend. I actually go to West Reeves but I got out early so I could catch a ride to your house. You are..?"

Revealing your name, he repeats it with a fondness as you shake his hand. "I don't know that I'd say best," Damian groans with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh hush it! Yes, you would," Jon argues, nudging your half-brother with his body as the two laugh.

"How was your first day, Miss? Did it go alright?" Alfred asks in the rearview mirror before pulling off the school's sidewalk and onto the street.

While this question was unexpected, you can't answer it. Was today good? You're unsure that any sort of sentiment could capture what today was like, truly. With your mother's death, the move, the new school, new people, and the luxury of it all... you feel unable to describe it all in one simple response. Sufficing for a nod, you purse your lips before opting for a quiet "Thanks." If nothing else, you can't deny that this old man has been kind to you since the moment you arrived. It seems he cares, but... isn't that also his job? You're not sure how butlers work, exactly, but surely that detail encompasses part of his job description, you think.

With the car parked in the driveway, you all exit the vehicle and head inside. Alfred asks if anyone wants a snack, however, you shake your head and point upstairs, signaling your destination.

You aren't sure what comes over you, a wave of hurt--sadness-angst, pain... there are endless synonyms for whatever it is that washes over you. It winds up there, lingering in your chest like a weight you hadn't realized was weighing your shoulders down. Maybe it was the attention, the comments, the questions, the energy it took to put on a 'fine' facade, yet it all finally comes crumbling down. With the click of the lock on the door, you make the final steps toward your unfamiliar bed. Letting the backpack fall from your shoulders haphazardly on the carpeted floors, you flop onto the bed face first, chest hitting the plush comforter before the rest of your body follows, the rebound sending your body bouncing slightly. Face screwing up into one of pain, you do your best to hold it back, and you're not quite sure why. No one's around, no one cares, so why won't you let yourself cry? Would that make it all real? Would that mean you're accepting her death? That she's really gone? That you're letting go? Moving on with your life? Thoughts of guilt consume you as you feel as though you should've known, you should've called her, said something, asked her to pick you up that day. Anything would've changed the chain in the course of events, right?

It's then, with the realization of the butterfly effect that a sob wracks your chest and tears stream down your cheeks. Like rapid fire, the sting of hot, salty tears cascade down your skin leaving streaks of mascara in its wake, you're sure. Screaming into your pillow, you can't help but struggle to breathe as you're not sure what to do. How do you move on from this? Where do you begin? What's left in your life, really? What does anything matter if she's gone? Your mom? The only person who's been there through your whole life from the beginning till... well, now. She was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime, your... everything. At the end of every day you always knew you'd have her to go back to. Never has the fear of being alone crossed your mind until right this second. Now you understand why so many people commit suicide each year. If their pain feels anything like this, then you understand. All you can think, wish, and mentally pray for is this to stop. For the tears to stop falling and your breath to stop coming in quick bursts of panicked, hyperventilating heaves. Snot runs down your lips and it's hard to see with the blurriness of the tears in your eyes.

After a while, the crying eventually dies down and you lie--wishfully--lifeless on your bed. A small hand towel you'd grabbed from the bathroom is folded under your face where the tears would fall and you've folded it over the few times you'd blown your mucousy snot into it. Silence consumes the room, and you've found yourself simply staring up at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Constantly caught in your thoughts, between crying and being eerily silent, you're unsure if all this was destined to happen. Or maybe it was supposed to come out sooner. Maybe it's only because you've been pushing everything down into a deep dark place that only feels safe for you to express once you're absolutely sure you're alone.

In the midst of a quiet moment, your eyes and throat sore, head throbbing, there's a knock at the door. "Dinner will be served in just a few minutes." It's Alfred. You hope he hadn't heard your crying, though if he had... what can you really do? Nothing... just like everything else in life. You can't do anything.

With a quick splash of cold water on your face, hands combing your hair down, and making sure you look as presentable as possible, you're ready. Aside from the slight red tinge that lingers around your eyes and the dark circles beneath them that are impossible to get rid of, you head downstairs. While you're sat in the same spot as this morning, you're joined by many more people this time. Bruce and Damian both sit at the ends of the table again, Tim sits across from you, though this time he's flanked by the Detective, and another man you don't recognize. He has a white stripe in his hair and a longer face than the others, but it suits him with his angular features. On your right sits a very tall and broad man clad in a business suit and glasses. Past him, sits Jon--who you'd met this afternoon--and across from him there's one more person who makes the table uneven in terms of people. It's a blonde girl, with an enticing sparkle in her eyes and a charming smile from what you can see from the other side of the table.

"This is my good friend, and Jon's dad, Clark Kent," Bruce introduces, gesturing to the man beside you. Said man holds out his big hand and offers a friendly smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he recites your name and you reciprocate the handshake. It's good to know that not everyone in Damian's association is a complete asshole, you suppose.

"Nice to meet you too," you respond quietly. With the meal served, everyone dives into eating, leaving you a little unsettled. While your mother had come from a very religious upbringing, she hadn't forced it on you. Yet, you'd still find yourself and your mom praying before dinner to whatever God or higher deity might exist. In a way, it was more to give thanks each day for being alive and having food on the table. Sometimes it was a conversation starter when someone would mention what their day entailed, the good things they'd seen, or maybe the bad things they'd ask for protection from. Nevertheless, it's clear that this family operates differently; digging your fork into the fancy black-peppered pork roast, you use your knife to slice a piece off for yourself. Not in the mood to talk at the moment, you simply listen to what everyone's discussing.

With the lack of response they'd gotten from you, Bruce opts for talking to Clark about business and how things have been. Dick and Tim fill in the mysterious man on the little they knew of you. The blonde girl talks with the younger boys at the end of the table at moments but also butts into the other conversation among the young adults diagonally across the table from you. Stabbing multiple string green beans onto your fork, you don't make eye contact with anyone as you simply try to get through this dinner. Maybe then you can go upstairs and try to relax away from everyone.

"-something we shouldn't really talk about too much, but I can guess the funeral will be by the end of next week with all the arrangements I made today," Bruce speaks to Clark.

"Wait, what?" Your voice is quiet, only drawing the attention of those sitting closest to you. Butting into their conversation, you raise your eyes to meet your Father's surprised blue eyes.

"The funeral will be at the end of next week, I'm presuming. It'll take a little while with all the arrangements," he repeats. Though he seems hesitant, he doesn't keep himself from speaking it again. After all, he's someone who stands behind his actions.

"What? Why?" Your fork clanks against the chinaware, lips parted in shock as you dropped it. "You made the arrangements without me?"

"Yes. It was important that you go to school and it was all right there in the will." Forkful of mashed potatoes lingering in the air as his blue eyes bore into yours, you find your breath beginning to rise and fall at a faster rate.

Of course, none of them know your buttons and what it looks like once they've been pressed, but if your mother was here right now, she'd know. With a screech of the chair being pushed back hastily and a quiet slam of your palms on the table to stand, you're livid. "Why would you do that? How could you do that?!" Hands shaking, you begin to gesticulate, any former semblance of masked placation now fallen. All eyes are transfixed on your figure. "She's my mother! Mine! You don't even know her- I do! I know what she would've wanted, and this isn't it. What, just because your name was on my birth certificate that means you get to take over my life? You, who doesn't even know anything about me, and yet you act like we're best friends! Your children call you 'Bruce' and you have no problem with it! You don't get to just come into my life and fuck everything up! You sleep with her once, what? Sixteen years ago and now you come in and take everything?" A wry laugh leaves your lips, "Well, more for you, I guess! Did you ever stop to think that there's a reason I had no idea who you were? Let alone, why she never told me? She never once asked for your money or your help, and now I'm just here. All my stuff? Gone. All my friends and family? Gone, a-"

"-We can go get your-" The Detective begins.

"-Oh, shut up! You really think anyone wants to hear what you have to say? You're adopted, you're not even related to me! You don't know me. None of you do! The only good thing about this is I don't have to put up with being interrogated by the BPD every goddamn time I walk down the halls of school. But I'd at least take that over never seeing my friends again!"

"-What do you mean?" He follows up, commenting over you. Everyone else looks around the table silently, taken aback by what they're witnessing.

"You want to 'Bring Justice to Bludhaven', I guess, when everyone already knows what happened to Perdy Chapman! Everyone except the BPD, I guess!"

"How dare you?! You can't speak to my brother like that, you-"

"Finally! The only person I'm actually related to here. My half-brother, the mysterious 'Wayne Boy' who doesn't have a mom! You have no fucking empathy for me, you've been giving me shit all day! And yet you're the only person I would've expected to actually give a damn! So sit your ass down, pendejo twerp!"

Without asking for permission you storm out of the dining room and through the living room toward the staircase.

"I'm guessing you're done with your dinner?"

The voice stops you in your tracks, hand on the banister, you let out a loud sigh, shoulders falling before you try to maintain a jovial demeanor when turning to him. "I don't need you to do anything for me, Alfred. I think it's fucking ridiculous to have a servant when it's the twenty-first century, for crying out loud!"

"It's my job. I assure you he pays me, if that makes it any better," Alfred speaks in a calm tone, unfazed by your words or behavior.

"Great! Well, I still don't need you doing things for me that I can do myself. Thank you, though," while the words come out through tense, grit-together teeth, you turn and head upstairs. It doesn't take long to get to your backpack, slinging it over your shoulders. Luckily, this was the one thing you knew you could do with the advantages of not only your room but a backyard. Opening the window, you climb out onto the tree branch a few feet away.

Soon enough, you're on solid ground, out of the boundaries and gate of Wayne Manor. With a heaving chest and shaky hands, you speedwalk down the road toward where you know the bridge will be heading into Bludhaven from the transfer point on the Eastern Seaboard. This time for whatever reason, you can't bring yourself to cry. Maybe all the tears had already flooded from your body this evening, but nothing emanates from your tear ducts. Eyeing the blood that's already starting to dry on your palms from the splinters and the last little drop you'd had to take from the tree, you scraped your palm.

It'd been silent upon your departure from the dining room. Bruce insisted that everyone return to eating, that everything was fine, and that this wasn't unexpected. While things returned normal for the most part, Jason excused himself with a look toward his father. It wasn't until an alarm rang from Bruce's phone that he groaned and pulled it out only to find the surveillance outside capturing your figure leaving the premises. Announcing what the 'emergency' was, at everyone's persistence, Jon ran out of the room before Bruce could elect Clark to go check where you were headed.

It's a lone road, cypress trees lining it and gravel-filled sides. With it only being garnered by private property of the elite, and no real intersections for miles, no cars pass in either direction. As the sound of a faraway motorcycle approaches, you don't let it deter you. It'll be at least an hour or more before any of them realize you've left the property. They all think you're just upstairs crying to yourself, most likely. Rage still swirls in your gut, however, it's drained somewhat, being replaced by the determination to get home. A billionaire, his family, servants, and even a few splinters won't stop you. It doesn't strike you as odd that the sound of the nearing motorcycle slows; after all, not many people hitchhike on this road, you're guessing, and with the speed limit being higher in this area.

Jon had been faster, intrigued for some reason--his justification upon later questioning--to find out where you were going. Clark trails behind him, neither of them bothering to change clothes as they fly above the closest road, trailing you from a distance silently. It's only when they spot the motorcyclist approaching you that they hold their position.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice is unfamiliar. While being catcalled isn't a stranger to you, it's still annoying that it'll happen in the middle of fucking nowhere. Ignoring the motorcycle that now stalls to your left, you continue walking with determination, eyes ahead and fists wrapped around each strap of your backpack upon your stiff shoulders. "Really? You're gonna ignore me and play it that way? Get on the motorcycle," the man calls your nickname, which elicits a reaction from you.

Eyes widening and lips parting, and eyebrows shooting upward, you finally look at the man. You don't remember his name, but he'd been sitting at the table across from you between Tim and that Detective. Expression immediately turning into one of anger, your jaw setting, you feel reinspired to make your way to Bludhaven. "I'm not going back! I can't," you argue, "plus I don't even know you. Why would I go with you?!"

A chuckle leaves his lips and you hear the shifting of plastic before the motorcycle revs in a way that elicits an automatic jump from your body. The motorcycle speeds a few feet down the road before it does a loop and skirts into a stopped position just a few feet in front of you. Legs on either side of the vehicle, the man flicks the visor of his helmet back up and reaches into the back compartment, producing another. Before you have time to react, he throws the helmet your way. Hands instinctively reach out to catch it instead of letting yourself get hit with the speed of it. You wince; it pushes the splinters further into your palm. You come to a standstill a few feet away from him as you lift the helmet slowly only to see the blood starting to pool around them again.

"I'm Jason," he reveals, "I don't know where you plan to go, running away like this, but you don't think the old man will notice you're gone sooner than later? What's your plan then?"

Irritation and a desperate anger linger in your chest as your eyes finally raise to meet his. "Well, Jason, it's none of your business! Regardless, it doesn't matter. You can't stop me." Approaching him, you're about to shove the helmet in his hands when he raises one of his own, palm facing you.

"Truce? Look, I know you don't know me, but I was like you. I grew up in Crime Alley and had to steal tires for a living. I tried to steal the-" he stops himself, another chuckle escaping his lips, "the old man's, and that's how we met. I get it... it's not easy, and, no one expects you to just go along with everything, alright? If you're thinking about going home, well, that'll take what-? Hours? You really want to walk for hours to... where are you from, again? Bludhaven? What part?"

"Canaveron District, yeah," you respond gruffly, some of the tension leaving your shoulders.

"You won't get there for another three hours walking, at best. If you just want to get your things, well, I can take you there. But we'd have to get everyone else-"

"No! no, I don't want-"

"-If you let me finish," he warns, "I was going to say get the others to help tomorrow or this weekend, we can get the rest. Alright? Just essentials, and I bring you right back here. Got it?" His eyes search yours for a moment before he adds, "That's the best I can do for you, kid. Otherwise, I've gotta drag you back to the Manor kicking and screaming, which I really don't want to do."

"He sent you?" You weren't too surprised, only that if anyone was coming, you figured it would've been Bruce, himself. It's only when Jason notices you looking around and contemplating your decision that he cocks his head toward the Manor, signaling the Kents to leave. He's got this.

"No. I came, because... unlike those other dicks, I actually know what it's like to come from, well, somewhere that's not the greatest," he admits, a look of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"And this isn't some scam? You just tell me this, get me on the bike, and then take me back to the White House?" This elicits a laugh from the man, and he runs a gloved hand through his black and white hair.

"Look, I don't know how much they've mentioned about me, but... let's just say I'm not exactly in Bruce's good favor if you know what I mean." Reading the look on your face, he expands. "I'm not exactly the goody-two-shoes of the family. If you want your stuff, I'll take you, but only because I know he wouldn't do that."

"Why?" Standing in silence, the two of you search one another's eyes for any sense of understanding. It's tacit, the question that you both know you were really asking, yet he doesn't make you voice it: why would you do this for me?

"Because I know what it's like to have everything taken from you." A sigh leaves his lips, and you can tell simply from his stance and demeanor that this man has been through much more than he's letting on. "If you wanna do this, we should get going. I can't be out too late tonight. You coming? Or should I call the old man and let him know what your plan is?" With a raised brow and eyes flicking toward the helmet in your hands and back to your eyes, he awaits an answer.

"I'm coming." Sliding the helmet over your head, you approach the vehicle. "Just... don't tell him, please! At least don't tell him for another... fifteen minutes?" The request elicits a questioning look before a smirk replaces it.

"Deal. Hang on," he requests. Shifting the bike to stand upright, he leans closer and reaches under your chin to clip a strap in place you hadn't noticed. He tightens it, checks with you, and then gets onto the bike. "You ever ridden a motorcycle?"

With a thick swallow, your eyes shift from his to the bike. Sliding over the seat, you're unsure where to place your feet, but Jason instructs you, making sure you're comfortable before you slide your arms around his waist and brace for takeoff. Visor flicked down and everything in place, he revs the motorcycle before speeding down the road.

Beneath the helmet, the ends of your hair tickle your arm as it whips through the air. Cool breeze wooshes past your body, arms able to feel the chill through the blazer, your legs gaining goosebumps through the exhilarating experience. Cypress trees turn into willows, which become more and more sparse as gates and brick walls slowly fade with the elitist properties into cemeteries and then into more forest before turning more industrial. As different plants and factories appear, so do the cars. Jason weaves in and out of traffic as he maneuvers his way down the highway and onto the bridge that winds around Gotham and finally goes into Bludhaven. The lights and sights passing this fast is intimidating at the thought of crashing, however, it's thrilling in a way you've also never experienced. Skyscrapers line the island, lights, signs, and monuments only add a sort of fascination and exuberant liveliness to it. As the Wayne Enterprises sign passes, you finally feel comfortable enough to remove one hand from Jason's side for a moment, long enough to flash a quick middle finger at the sign before fearfully grabbing onto his jacket again.

With a laugh and shake of his head, he removes a hand from the handlebar to flip a bird alongside her, eliciting what he thinks is a laugh. Nevertheless, he can feel the fear in her grip so he returns his hand to the handlebars and makes sure to keep his focus on the road. It's not likely they'd crash, not unless someone was out for him and knows his bike, and his civilian identity. Not that he goes too far out of his way to hide it, but it's not impossible. He's confident in his abilities, but considering they don't know each other the best, he doesn't do anything to further scare her.

As he draws nearer to the Canaveron District, he slows down enough for her to give him directions. Parking the bike outside the apartment complex she's identified, Jason helps her off the bike and stashes the helmets in the back. "Lead the way, little lady," he encourages.

~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

#hog #my writing #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batfam x sibling!reader #dcu reader insert #tw: catcalling #tw: misandry #tw: blood #tw: injuries #tw: yelling #tw: negativity #tw: disassociation #tw: depression #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: numbness #tw: outburst #tw: crying #tw: cursing #tw: anti-police themes #tw: existentialism #tw: death #heiress of gotham series #heiress of gotham

[ticklish-touch]

Trapped in the Backrooms - Ch 11: Blank Slate

(Mild horror & violence, depression & existentialism, tickling)

Now separated from Ragaeli, you must team up with a reluctant group of allies to navigate a lonely, harrowing collection of tunnels. Tensions are high, and hopes are low. But you can't give up yet. After all, your emotional cry for help might reach out to a much-needed source of guidance and comfort...

(Chapter themes: "White Winter Hymnal" - Fleet Foxes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrQRS40OKNE

"Inspiriting" - Ori and the Blind Forest: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKN-NCiYEsM )

          The fall nearly knocked you unconscious. You collapsed onto the hard ground below, the wind briefly knocked out of you, your vision blurring. 

          After taking a few moments to compose yourself, you lifted your head to survey the sights: You were in a mine shaft. Dirt tunnels surrounded you on all sides, wooden scaffolding and arches lined the walls that towered upwards into the darkness. The tunnel was very dimly lit by the occasional torch sconce; but the torches didn’t bear flames. They all had small bulbs of artificial fluorescent light, illuminating the walls in a way that made them appear slightly yellow; just like the fluorescents back in Level Zero.

          But there was no time to stand around. You and Ragaeli had been separated.

          You felt your heart pounding. Your breath was fast and harsh, and you immediately started to search the walls and ceiling for signs of an entrance, not wanting to believe that the massive plants from the greenhouse had shattered it. “RAGAELI!!” You craned your neck back to cry out into the darkness. “RAAAGS, ARE YOU THERE?! PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN HEAR ME!!”

          But, as expected, no response.

          You held your pendant tightly. It wasn't a direct connection to him like the tether, but he did tell you in the past that, with enough concentration, you could use it to send out a mental cry for help.           …Except something didn't feel right. It didn't have its typical ceramic texture. It felt like a pumice stone.

          You glanced down and gasped in shock. The pendant was destroyed, looking like an old piece of lava rock, totally devoid of its red aura. In the scuffle with the plants, you hadn't noticed that they scorched the talisman with their light magic. It could no longer protect you.           You clutched it closely with your now trembling hand, gulping hard, feeling cold chills run up your spine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Now you were terrified. Almost as terrified as when you'd first seen the Scourge.

          You took a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself. You knew that panicking wouldn't make your situation any better. You'd been through so many Levels already, so many puzzles and perils that even a couple gods of this world were impressed by your drive. And Ragman had faith in you.

          The first step was to scout out the area. Carefully look around for anything out of place, keep yourself on your toes. You took one of the wall sconces with you to light your path and try to check the walls, ground and wooden beams for clues. You had to watch your footing around some of the bent, jagged mine cart tracks. Other sections of the ground had completely caved in, creating small chasms into the depths below.

          Anxiety still gnawed at your mind. Rags had been in the middle of a heated battle with that entire forest filled with light magic. You remembered the awful pained wails he let out just from a few zaps of sunlight. What if he couldn’t ward them off? What if they kept scalding and burning him until he was reduced to ashes?

          You shook your head fast. No, no, you couldn’t think about the worst outcome. You knew how damn stubborn and tough that lunatic was. He might have already managed to turn the greenhouse into a giant salad. Maybe he could find the Nymph and try to reason with her. Or coerce her. You were sure he was hellbent on finding you, so now you needed to do your part.

          Whenever you came across an alcove or tunnel, you carefully peeked inside. Some of them led down dirt tunnels that faded into pure darkness. Others, however, led into rooms, as if there were small houses and studio apartments tucked away inside the mine. There were living rooms, offices, a kitchen, an insanely cluttered attic. And somehow, these rooms had eerie grey light shining in from the windows.           You were still on edge, and felt like you didn't have time to do a full sweep of each room for clues, but you still quickly skimmed around for anything out of place. There was nothing really of note, just a lot of clutter. Open filing cabinets, broken-down piles of electronics, dusty boxes with old framed photos of unknown facelings.           Eventually, one of the mine tunnels led directly into a small, dimly-lit library. It felt cozy, and somewhat nostalgic. You spotted someone sitting on the armrest of one of the nearby couches, one leg crossed over another, reading quietly.

          Your breath hitched. It was the Keymaster.

          "You!!" You cautiously walked towards him. "You're the one I need to talk to! Why have you been following me around?"           He didn't answer, nor look away from his book.           You huffed in frustration. "Can you help me, or not?? I got separated from my friend, he's the only way we have any chance of–”

          "Your friend has created a right headache for me," he interrupted snidely. He had an indiscernible European accent. "I've no interest in helping reunite him with his accomplice."

          "Wha– That wasn't my fault!! He acted on his own!"

          "You're clever enough," He snipped again, his piercing turquoise eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Find your own way back to him." He snapped his book shut, stood from the chair, and vanished in a flash of golden light.

          "Gee, thanks, asshole," you muttered, then sighed and rubbed your head, momentarily taking a seat on the couch. Looks like the Sovereign was right: Rags had definitely pissed him off. It had felt cathartic in the moment, and undoubtedly sparked hope in people who otherwise had no clue how to proceed through the Backrooms. But admittedly, it was kind of biting you in the ass now.           “Guess I’ll just have to scold that brat once I track him down again,” you chuckled to yourself. You decided to at least try and give the room a glance-over.

          You nonchalantly scanned the bookshelves. Almost all of the books were grouped in identical-looking clusters, that repeated on every shelf in the same pattern. You picked up and opened a random book; the ‘writing’ was gibberish, and some letters overlapped each other or cut off completely, as if the press had badly misprinted, or a computer algorithm had attempted to recreate what a novel should look like.           Putting the book back and scanning the shelves again, there was one single book that caught your eye: a small, bright sapphire book with golden embroidery along the spine. It almost looked like a mini wizard’s tome. Every now and then, the pages would flash, like a holographic image, phasing into descriptions and illustrations of totally different environments. You recognized some of them as the rooms you’d been exploring. You decided to take it with you, putting it in your pocket.

          You headed back out into the mine, still feeling unsettled and on-edge; More so than before. The tense dread started to become so strong that you definitely felt like you could be in danger. It wasn’t the same as the spike of adrenaline and anticipation that you got hit with whenever the Nightmare was near. You frantically started to peer down the tunnels, hugging the wall, your heart rate increasing.

          And soon, you learned that you were right. An inhuman growl emanated from the tunnel right next to you. You barely had time to leap away before a massive, gnarly clawed hand shot out towards you to grab you, letting out a vicious, guttural snarl. You screamed and bolted in the other direction, trying to duck around crates, mine carts and wooden pillars to try and shake it off your trail. You probably shouldn’t have, but you turned to glance back at the creature: It looked like an unnaturally tall, horribly disfigured humanoid feature. Its skin looked leathery and rotten; its face was split vertically with a gaping mouth. Its roars and snarls were downright chilling.

          You tried to shove some loose wooden planks onto the floor to slow its pursuit. You even chucked a metal rod at its face, smacking it right across its skewed mouth. It sounded even more pissed off after that stunt.           You attempted to lose it inside one of the nearest rooms, which opened on a large restaurant kitchen. You swiftly duck-and-weaved around the kitchen counters, trying to cause a distraction by throwing pots and pans across the room.

          Your fake-out had worked; you’d gained a fair amount of distance between yourself and the entity. You zigzagged around scaffolding and crouched behind mine carts to ensure that it could no longer see you. You ducked into an alcove that had a small gap behind the wall, crouching down just in time for the beast to run past; thankfully without even stopping to investigate.           The minute you couldn’t hear the creature anymore, you gasped to regain your lost breath, taking a moment before shakily standing.           You were firmly yanked back by something behind you, wrapping its arms around you.

          You screamed and started kicking and elbowing, trying to spin around to deck the culprit in the face.           "Hey hey hey, easy!!" The man blocked your attempted attacks. "It's okay, you're okay." He was a tall, very muscular man with short, dark hair, a bit of a mullet, and green eyes, wearing a grey tanktop and baggy camouflage cargo pants. He had an ammunition belt and two guns at his waist, and was covered in scars.           You quickly settled down, your heart still pounding a little. "Jeez... Sorry about that."           "Don't worry about it. Don't blame you for being on edge." He turned to reveal that the dirt ‘wall’ behind you had opened up like a hidden doorway. He beckoned for you to quickly follow him down a series of narrow hallways. After the coast was clear, he clicked a small walkie-talkie. “Hey, we’ve got a new straggler. I’m bringing ‘em to the outpost. I need at least one of you to meet me halfway.”           After a few moments, another voice answered; the voice of an older woman. “Copy that.”

          The man sized you up for a minute. “You’re damn lucky I happened to be around. We haven’t fully scouted this quadrant yet. How the hell you avoided that thing without any kind of weapon is beyond me.” He shrugged and yanked at your sleeve. “C’mon, let’s keep moving.”

          The further you walked down the long, dark corridors, the more they began to shift in appearance. The dirt walls were slowly replaced by stone bricks, and the ground started to become bare, revealing concrete floors. The dim wall sconces were traded out for uncomfortably bright white overhead fluorescents. Metal pipes spanned all the way down the hall, forming a latticework a few feet above your head.

          “So, you have a base nearby?” You asked, trying to pass some of the awkward silence. But he only answered with more silence. “How long have you been down here?”           “We’ll all fill you in as soon as we get there,” he snapped back.           Sheesh, charming attitude… You tried not to judge, though. Your tensions were pretty high, too.           Halfway down the corridor, you heard a door open just behind you, and heard your name being called out, in a familiar female voice. Spinning around, you gasped.           "Jay?!"

          Sure enough, it was the half-reptilian woman from the first group of wanderers that you'd befriended. She looked worse for the wear, with tattered clothes, fresh scars on her face, and a heavily bandaged arm. "Shit, what happened? Are the others here, or...?"           She sighed and shook her head. "I'll... tell you when you get settled in."            “You know each other?” The man seemed shocked.           You nodded. “Yeah, pretty amazing that I’m actually seeing a familiar face.”           The brunette looked around. “So uh, where’s the crazy red devil?”           Your expression dropped, feeling sullen all over again.           “Oh, shit…” She patted your shoulder sympathetically. “I’m so sorry… Well if anyone could find his way back to you, it’s that lunatic.”           You chuckled. “Yeah, I hope so…”

          Jay and the man led you around a few twists and turns down the mine shaft. Neither of them were that talkative, save for a couple of them going over reconnaissance plans and daily tasks.           You all eventually got to a door that led into an… Office firm? It was a very dull, quiet office reminiscent of a doctor’s waiting room or a study center in a library, but much more spacious. There were cubicles with very old-fashioned computers, a couple small bookshelves, and hand-written diagrams and blueprints scattered about on some of the desks. There was bedding, camping tents, a TV and a fridge set up in the extra space.

          You saw three other people: An older black woman with a cane and a beautiful - albeit tattered - shawl and flowing dress pants, a slightly chubbier, olive-skinned man with a faux-hawk, glasses and five-o’-clock shadow, and a person with wavy strawberry-blonde hair, androgynous features, freckles and baggy sweats. The latter was huddled on a couch, drawing in a notebook. The woman was sitting at one of the computers, discussing something with the man. She was the first to notice you, and her voice was the one from the walkie-talkie. She offered you a sympathetic smile. “Well I’ll be. Glad to see you in one piece, dear. I hope Rory here didn’t jerk you around too much,” she chuckled.           The man leading you, Rory, rolled his eyes. “They’re lucky I happened to be scouting around.” He then nodded to the woman. “This is Grace,” he introduced her to you. “Loren,” he gestured to the man sitting with her, “and Elijah,” the person on the couch. “Now get settled, get off your feet. There’s some protein bars in the fridge, but you’d better not take more than two for now.”

          You got comfortable on one of the couches, trying to get your body to relax. You also tried to think of something to say to them as they all turned back to their tasks, leaving you feeling kind of…awkward. It wasn’t really the same as the first group that you and Rags had befriended, who had a strong camaraderie with one another. There was almost a sense of detachment between all of them. As if it was business as usual. A heavy sense of tension and melancholy hung in the air.

          “So, Jay… What happened?” You finally spoke up.

          She let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple, heading over to sit on a nearby chair. "...Cian upgraded our communication radios a couple hours after you and your devil buddy left. They thought they picked up on a lead for a different way to get past the lab Level. Venali, Ramon and I all headed out, but..." she growled and gripped her hair. "I got in over my head. Thought I could take on a Partygoer, convinced the other two to head back to base. The fucker slashed me up pretty good," she gestured with her arm. "Damn freak tossed me down a stairway right into a different Level.” She let out an annoyed hiss.            “I ended up in some creepy-ass circus with a bunch of clowns. Literally. Clown entities, can you believe that? Guess everything is possible here,” she scoffed. “About lost my shit when one shaped like a living beach ball came flying and shrieking out of nowhere.”           You couldn't help but snort to yourself. Yup, that was Dazzle. "I met them too, actually.”           "Wha– Really??"           You nodded, listing off their names and features to prove it.           She looked dumbfounded. "I'll be damned. So we just missed each other?!"           "Guess so," you shrugged, then started to ponder. "They're really not that bad, y'know, they're just...Scared. They've been hurt by wanderers in the past. They all just want to have fun."           She sighed. "Yeah... I thought about that after they ran me right out of the Level. I just... Don't ever want to let my guard down again after the way I fucked up." She let out a low hiss. “Too many entities out there that want to merc our asses on sight.”           “Hm…” You frowned sympathetically. “Well, what about you guys? How’d you end up here if you don’t mind me asking?”           “Well, we all kinda just ended up getting… Dumped here,” Loren started. “Rory was first, then Grace, then Elijah. Then me. Jay's only been with us for a few hours.”           Grace's brow furrowed and she looked down in deep thought. “It’s… a little fuzzy, all I really remember was walking through a maze of party rooms, with terrible music. Then an old high school that needed some real TLC. And then a field full of houses. One door led to the next, and next thing I know I'm nearly getting eaten alive by a monstrosity out in those mines. Gave it a few good whacks, though," she slammed her cane down on the floor to demonstrate. “Rory here might be a hardass, but… He still saved me." Loren smirked to Rory. “Wanna remind us how you got dumped down a laundry chute?”           Jay and Grace snickered to themselves.           “Oh shut up,” Rory barked back at Loren. “At least I’m not the dumbass who blasted his own way into the mines.”           “I told you, that’s not what happened!!”           “Oh quit denying it, already,” Rory scoffed. “We all heard the explosion.”

          “Yes, an explosion I had no control over!!” He snapped back. “Children,” Grace banged her cane on the floor.           You turned to Elijah to try and avoid more quarreling. “What about you…?”           “Don’t want to talk about it.” They quickly answered, turning back to their sketchbook.           “Your turn,” Rory turned his attention back to you. “You seem like you’ve been traveling around this hellscape for a while. What’s your story?”           “Well…” You didn’t really know where to begin. But you could tell by his tone that he was cautious. Maybe all of them were. “You… Might not believe me.”           “Try me,” Rory grunted.           “Heh, if you say so…”           You started by lifting your pendant out of your shirt collar, stroking it in your palm. You explained how you fell into the Backrooms with Ragaeli. You explained how his warping powers were a big reason that you were able to survive at all. You were… A bit too shy to explain his true powers to a group of strangers. It would have been easier if he could be there to show them himself.

          “...I'd say that sounds like a load of bull," Loren quipped, "But if there's magic exploding clowns out there, then I guess it's not too far-fetched."           “I’ll be…” Grace contemplated thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve got a guardian angel of sorts.”           “Pffft– if that’s what you want to call him,” you chuckled a little. “In any case… We’ve been separated. Doesn’t matter how strong he is, his connection to me got cut off.” 

          “Well…” Jay perked up. “If communication is the issue, maybe we could help. These guys are trying to repair a radio station that used to be able to reach out to a bunch of other outposts before a fuckin Slasher destroyed it.” She brought over a blueprint and some photos of a small, broken-down radio tower. “These guys say it’s the best chance I have at getting back in touch with everyone, so maybe we can relay a message around to other outposts to keep an eye out for your buddy."           You nodded. “Well, it’s definitely a start… Maybe I could help you guys look around for parts?”           “Yeah, maybe!” Jay smiled.           “Well, boss man, what d’you think?” Loren looked over to Rory.

          The man stayed quiet for a minute, arms folded, tapping his boot impatiently on the ground. “....Tell you what,” he started. “I’ll let you help us out. If you tell us everything you already know. Tell us where you’ve been, how you figured out exits, tell me more about this ‘magic’ friend of yours.”

          And so, you explained everything. How the Nightmare protected you through each Level, how you had to strategically find clues while narrowly avoiding danger, how you came across entities like the Jester and the Sovereign. Grace and Elijah looked dumbfounded, and super curious. Loren and Rory looked skeptical. At least, until you got to explaining how he made an announcement to the Backrooms about the piece of information that could help every Wanderer: Finding and talking to the Keymaster.

          "Wait..." Loren's eyes went wide in realization. “That was him??" He looked incredulously to Jay. "That's the entity you were talking about??"           She nodded. "Told ya."           "And I saw the Keymaster," you continued. "Out in the mines, in the library. But he disappeared before I could ask him anything..." You frowned, then pulled out the blue book. "But I did find this." Loren took it, flipping through it, his eyes going wide. "Wow...This is... These are all rooms out in the mines!" He passed it to Grace to give her a look, then Rory. "How'd you find it?? We've looked in that library dozens of times!"

You shrugged. "I just... Did. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to always be aware here. Always look for anything out of place. These Levels will really try to trip you up with all the repetition." "Well, in any case, this will be wonderfully helpful to us," Grace smiled. "Thank you, dear."

           Rory scratched his chin. "So you've been getting wrapped up with a bunch of super-powered freaks, you coincidentally happen across someone you already know, your entity companion announced his presence across the whole damn world, you're finding important shit in the span of a few minutes that we've been trying to find for weeks." He narrowed his gaze. "How do we know you're really on our side?"           "Rory," Grace glared.           "Listen, we gotta look out for ourselves too. It's bad enough trying to fight off these monsters on our own, last thing we need is a bunch of so-called gods tracking us down."

          You shook your head fast. "I really don't think they will! The Sovereign confirmed that the way Rags did things was the best way to avoid trouble." You sighed. "Look, I know this is a lot of weird shit all at once, but he really does want to help people. I want to help you guys if I can."

          "Listen, dude, you don't need to be paranoid," Jay backed you up. "They helped me and my friends out even though they're the ones who didn't have any kind of base camp or equipment. Their buddy Reggie isn't like anything or anyone I've ever seen. He wants to fight for us." She folded her arms. "They gave you what you wanted, so let's get going already! Let's show 'em what we have so far and start hunting around for what we need."           Rory seemed hesitant, but eventually he relented and stood up, waving you to follow. "You're gonna stay close to us, and do what I say so you don't get your ass chewed out there. Got it?"           You frowned. "...Understood." Usually, you wouldn't mind being bossed around by a handsome buff guy. But his tone just rubbed you the wrong way. It was clear he still didn't trust you. He seemed to see you as a threat, a liability; similar to how the Order viewed Rags. Well hopefully, when he could see you were just genuinely trying to help, he would come around.

          You all headed out a door at the other end of the office. It didn't lead to a mine tunnel this time, but to a staircase down into a dingy, eerie maintenance tunnel, with white walls and grey concrete floors. It smelled vaguely of mildew and drywall, and it was uncomfortably spacious.  Weirdly, the next hallway was completely lined with appliances. Dishwashers, refrigerators, ovens... Most of which were partially broken-down or taken apart. Loren saw your confusion and chuckled. "They make for good salvage, so we just leave 'em here when we need parts."

        You soon got to the communication room, where a twenty-foot-tall radio tower stood. It was in massive disrepair, looking like someone had taken a wrecking ball to it. The command console, which also doubled as a surveillance station, wasn't much better. Some of the screens were damaged beyond repair, and there was loose wiring everywhere. Rory waved you over to a nearby wall, gesturing to a huge, intricate series of maps and blueprints. "Here's what we got. Obviously this place is fuckin' huge. But we've managed to get some pretty good salvage from the south-eastern quadrants of the mines." He pointed out all the mark-ups and circles in various "rooms". “These spots have been tricky," he pointed up toward the middle-right portion of the map, which looked like a science lab. "But at least they're more feasible than whatever the hell is going on with the bottomless pit here," he pointed to a drawing of a circular chasm. "We started building a sort of pulley system to get down into that pit," Loren explained to you. "But there's... something down there. Something huge." He pointed at the drawing of an amorphous blob at the bottom of the chasm, looking a bit like a typical silhouette of a sleep paralysis demon. "I'm not really fixing to lower any of us down into a death trap."

          Rory nodded. "Alright then, here's how we'll do it. You and Jay head back to the mines. Grace and Loren can do another sweep in the computer labs, but don't spend too long there. Start heading further north without disturbing Smiler territory. And keep an eye out for this fucker," He pointed to a sketch of a grotesque humanoid, wearing a mask seemingly composed of stitched-together body parts. "This is what Jay was talking about. Its lackeys are the ones who coordinated an attack on the tower."           "Elijah," he gestured to the blonde, "Stay here and monitor the feeds. Call us if you see anything pop up. Especially if we get any kind of feedback from the radios." He tapped his hand on the journal. "We'll have you collab with Loren to fill out the blueprints more when we get back." His scowl became more serious. "Pay. Attention. Mope around all you want on your own time, but right now, you stay at this chair."           "Right.." the blonde chuckled dryly. "Cause that's all I'm really good for, yeah?"           "He doesn't mean it that way, honey," Grace frowned sadly. "We know you're hurting. But you can still make a difference for all of us."           Elijah rolled their eyes. "Whatever."

          Once the group had a game plan, you headed out into the mine with Jay. She charged forward with purpose, walking with a swagger and clenched fists. You had to speedwalk to keep up with her. "So you really got through that gauntlet in one piece, huh?" She looked back to you. "I knew you were a tough cookie."           You thought back to the vivid red hallway, a multitude of monsters and entities being commanded like a cavalry to hunt you down and tickle you half to death, while that crazy nightmare's maniacal laugh echoed after you… You shivered and cleared your throat. “S-Sure did. Couldn’t have done it without Rags though…” A few more minutes passed. Jay seemed tense, her guard fully up and ready to defend from any potential entity attack.

          You tried to lighten the mood. "...So uh, what's Rory's problem?"           "Eh, dunno," she shrugged. "He won't tell anyone much about himself. Just that he was a military brat before he got discharged."           "...That suddenly makes sense." You and Jay both laughed.           "All of these guys are a total mess, 'cept maybe Grace," she continued. "Kinda reminds me of how all my buddies started off. We were hopeless, heh."           "How'd you end up working things out?"

          "Time, mainly. Time and communication." She finally slowed her strenuous pace a little. "When people realize that they have some common ground, it makes 'em more willing to open up. We were all stragglers once. Lost, afraid, and and angry." Her brow furrowed. "And now I'm pissed all over again..." She let out a loud huff and marched forward again, punching a nearby metal grate in frustration. "They'd better fucking be okay."

          You could definitely understand her anger. You were furious that the forest had totally turned on you and Rags at the last minute. You were angry that the dimension itself was barely even giving him a chance. For such a chaotic world, they sure were ill-equipped to handle a force of chaos that just wanted to have fun and take a stand against bullshit.

          You all eventually met halfway, showing your haul of metal and machinery, watching Loren and Grace bounce ideas and engineering jargon off of each other. You'd regroup by the communicators, taking time to freshen up with snacks and almond water, while Loren and Jay labored away at getting parts attached and re-wired. You all stayed in close contact with your walkie-talkies. "...Look at this..." Elijah had piped in when you all met up in the communications room for the second time, pointing to one of the journal pages. It showed what looked like a prison cell in a dingy dungeon, with a... computer tower? "A dungeon, huh? Haven't seen one of those yet..." Loren scratched his scruff. "This place really is a labyrinth. Could come in handy, though."

          You occasionally mixed up the grouping, heading out with Loren or Grace. Rory didn't seem willing to pair up with you yet, Elijah was still camping out in the communications room, starting to add sketches to the blueprints, and Loren was very much in his own head. Even though you and Jay were already on friendly terms, she wasn't in a very talkative mood. Truth be told, neither were you. An uncomfortable sense of tension and isolation hung in the air whenever you passed through the eerie, barren maintenance tunnels. Dread loomed over you whenever you passed through the mine shafts, knowing that, at any minute, you could get jumped by a dangerous entity.

         Grace was the only one that seemed interested in your well-being and story, offering comfort and positive affirmations. She even apologized for being nosey, but you explained that it felt nice to have a normal conversation; especially with someone so sweet.         “I appreciate that, dear,” she smiled, her face crinkling with crow’s feet. “I’ll admit, it can be… difficult to stay positive in a crazy place like this. But the way I see it… Staying positive in the face of hopelessness is the only way we can move on sometimes. The sooner we accept there are going to be ordeals that’ll try to beat us down, the sooner we can start acting to overcome those trials.” She paused to roll up her pant leg, revealing her prosthetic leg. “At some point I accepted this as a gift, not an ailment. That fire will never leave my memory…” She winced a little, letting her pant leg go. “But neither will the kindness of people who reached out to me after the fact.” She patted your shoulder, smiling warmly. “Hang onto that kindness of yours, honey.”

          It felt like ages had passed. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes... An hour... Two hours. The more time passed, the more anxious you became. Ragaeli had said he only had a couple hours left at most. But whenever you asked the time, they showed you that it had only been a few minutes. You were skeptical and wondered if their watches were all broken.           "Time dilation," Loren finally explained. "I still don't get how it works. I was skeptical at first too. But my equipment isn't wrong, time really is warped here. Five minutes in real-time passes by like an hour."           "... Weird..." That was very similar to how the Dream and Nightmare realms worked. It'd be nice if there could be some kind of connection. Some kind of weak spot in space-time or... Something. Anything that could give you a chance to connect back to Rags. Or maybe even Kenni.

          During your reconnaissance, you couldn't help but think of how the brat would behave if he were here. He'd dress up in some goofy-ass mining uniform and ditch his hard-hat by chucking it at a skin stealer's face. He'd drag you into one of the mine carts and send you both careening down the tracks and hopping over chasms Donkey Kong-style. And he'd sure as hell spring tickle-attacks on the group to get them to lighten up. This group needed a way to loosen up. You didn't have enough power and sheer lunacy to be that much of an agent of chaos, but maybe you could manage to sneak some tickle-attacks here and there if the opportunity arose…

Occasionally, the sentence spoken to you by the sentient rainforest echoed through your mind. "He is lying to you." You didn't want to believe it. You wondered if it was a last-ditch effort from the forest, from the Backrooms as a whole, to make you lose your trust in Rags and want to separate yourself from him. If so, it wasn't going to work. Whatever it is that the Nightmare might be keeping from you, you were still going to win this battle alongside him.

You miraculously came back from your mission unscathed, with a computer chip that could hopefully serve to get the radio operational. It was time to start piecing everything together. You helped from ground level, learning quite a bit about how to re-wire a motherboard. Rory soldered panels together, Loren and Grace devised a coding algorithm, Jay climbed up onto the tower to repair scaffolding and the antenna. Your team's misadventures gave you all something to talk about together for once, breaking the tension and awkwardness that had hung over you this entire time. The conversation went from your reconnaissance to more tales of your lives on Earth. You learned that Loren was working his way to a master's degree in engineering and computer programming. Grace had once been a well-known author in her town, and owned a horse ranch. Jay had always struggled to conceal her identity as half-reptilian, often getting into cage matches as a teen where she could vent her aggression and conceal herself behind the guise of 'costume makeup.' Rory and Elijah still wouldn't open up much, but Rory finally seemed to let his guard down for once. Everyone, even Elijah, watched with baited breath as the console lights, and the radio tower antennae, started to flicker to life. Loren frantically typed out commands. "Hhhh, no no no..." he grumbled to himself. All of the screens started to shift from green to red. All of the camera feeds completely cut to static.

𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙰𝙻 𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁.

"NO!!" Loren slammed his fist down on a bare portion of the console. Rory growled and marched away, taking his boot to a nearby appliance. "FUCK." Jay harshly toppled a chair over. Elijah sighed, looking defeated all over again, shuffling over to plop down on the couch. Grace sighed and looked a little resigned, but her expression was more sympathetic than upset. "No... It'll be fine..." Loren tried frantically to type in more commands, to no avail. "I didn't mis-calculate anything..." He clutched the sides of his head, leaning his elbows on the console, his voice becoming shaky. "I...I-I can't mess up like this again..." Rory sighed and came over to pat him on the shoulder. "Knock it off. You did what you could. We all did." He glanced over to you, a contemplative look in his eye. "Yeah, dude," Jay leaned her hand on the console. "Don't beat yourself up. Could be an internal issue, not a programming fluke." "Tell you what." Rory spoke up to everyone. "Lets head back to the Checkpoint for now. We've all been running our asses off trying to get parts. Get refreshed, try to get rest. We'll try again later." "What's the point??" Elijah barked, stomping their foot. Their raised tone of voice caught everyone by surprise. "It's obvious we're meant to stay stuck here! End of the line!! Why should we keep risking our lives for something that might not even work?!" "Because the moment we give up, we might as well forfeit our lives!" Rory barked back. "You can't let a setback like this send you running with your tail tucked, or you'll get blown apart on the spot." Elijah shook their head, trying to fight off tears. "Life's nothing but setbacks..." With that, they stormed out, starting to head back to the office building. Rory sighed and shook his head. He, Loren and Jay all followed suit, heading back to the Checkpoint. You and Grace were the last ones in the control room. She took a seat down at one of the chairs. "I had a feeling things might end up this way..." she commented quietly, looking up at the tower. "I don't think it's a healthy mindset to put all our stock in one possible solution." She glanced over to you. "Honey... I appreciate your help. I truly do. But maybe, for now, you ought to try and find contentment in what we have to offer." She reached out to take your hand, smiling sadly, but sympathetically. "Now, I don't ever want to suggest giving up. But...I don't think anyone here is willing to accept that there are things we can be grateful for. We have resources. We have each other. We have safety. Not a single one of those demons out there can set foot in our little office." She shook her head slowly. "Like I said... It's only when we accept that there's going to be ordeals that are out of our control that we'll find hope in the dark." She squeezed your hand. "I dread to think that you can't be reunited with your friend, but...if that ends up being the case, please know that you can rely on us. You can always tell ol' Mama Grace anything that's on your mind."             Your heart sank at the implications of her words; that you should just accept that you may be stuck here, forever... You didn't want to consider that an outcome. But maybe she was right. You felt tears well to your eyes. You felt empty on your walk back to the office building. There had to be something, some way to get out of this prison, and make sure Ragaeli was okay... Just like that, everyone was separated again, off in their own corners of the office, keeping to themselves. A somber silence hung in the air.

          You spotted Elijah curled up on their couch. You realized that, in all this time, you hadn’t really gotten the chance to speak to them one-on-one yet. Part of you didn’t want to bother them, but you didn’t want to just ignore them, either. They really seemed defeated by the radio failure. You took a seat in a chair across from them. They glanced up at you and offered the smallest hint of a smile before going back to drawing.           “...So those blueprint sketches are all yours, right?”           They nodded. "Can I see some of your other art? If you don't mind." They flipped to one of their drawings and held it up for you. The page was full of very lovely, realistic sketches of birds, most of which were holding or wearing jewelry. The details of the gemstones were immaculate.           “Oh wow, those look great!”           “Thank you.”           “...I know you don’t know me very well, but you’re welcome to get things off your chest if you’d like.”           “...I appreciate it.” They shrugged. “But what’s to tell? Depression's a bitch. Life's a bitch. Finally worked my way toward some stability, got to move into my own place where I finally felt like I could be at peace, and then... I wind up here.” They tried to hide their face under their hair. “Life really said ‘Fuck you' for wanting to be happy for once.” Their voice became shaky. "And now it's happening again."

          “I’m so sorry…” You wanted to reach out to comfort them. “Well... I know we probably won’t be able to get in contact with Earth, but maybe when we get that radio working, we can find more people to get together with, and have a better chance at building up a better community and support system."         “And what if it doesn’t work?” They spoke up. “Can you really say that things will turn out alright?"

          You thought about how to answer that question. Of course you wanted to say yes, but somehow, you felt like it wouldn't help them.

          "Well... No, I can't. No-one can know or say for sure if things will be alright. But I mean... I don't think that means we should just give up, either. We deserve to hang onto things that make us happy, even if things seem hopeless." You frowned as you gently stroked a thumb over Rags’ damaged pendant. "That... doesn't mean we have to force ourselves to be happy, either." You gently placed a hand on their shoulder. "It's okay to feel hopeless, or depressed, or angry. Just know that you can work through it."           Elijah looked you in the eye, staring in surprise. "...No-one has ever told me that before..." They teared up a little, smiling. "Thank you... Finally someone gets it." They sighed, shifting to sit upright. "I just feel... Useless. All I can get myself to do is draw some blueprints and watch cameras while you guys all do the brave stuff." They chuckled dryly. "Y'know I used to go rock climbing? Skiing? Bungee jumping? Used to have the energy. Now thinking about doing anything fun makes me sick. Like my brain already expects it to go wrong. Even doing the one thing I love doesn't really make me happy anymore. And that scares me..."

You frowned sadly, sitting back in your chair, looking out to the direction of one of the bleak white windows. "Yeah... It sucks when doing things we love end up feeling like just... Distractions from the bigger picture. We shouldn't have to be okay with living in a Hellscape, being told to eat shit sandwiches and treat them like a gourmet meal. But when it comes down to it, no-one can tell you why or how to keep moving forward except for you. And if part of the process of finding that answer means bundling up in bed every day, screaming, crying and wishing things were different, that's just as valid. It's still progress. Even if it doesn't feel like it."

Everyone else had turned their attention to both of you, taking in the conversation. Elijah slowly nodded, reaching under their wavy bangs to wipe tears from their eyes. "I-I'm trying so hard to find that answer, I really am... I just... don't want everyone to see me as the depressed sack of shit that gets in the way, or brings down the mood..." They sniffled. "I-it's just... So hard, y'know? Realizing I may never see my family or friends again, knowing all that time and struggle to be happy was all just a waste…”

          “Hey, it was not a waste,” you spoke up. “I think it’s very telling that you fought to gain that happiness in the first place. Even when things felt hopeless, you still kept going. That’s worth something, right?”

          “...Yeah… Maybe.” You saw a soft smile cross their face.

          "Alright, guys," Rory spoke up. “Get some rest. All of you. We’re gettin’ this damn radio built one way or another and we all need to be at the top of our game.”           Elijah placed their notebook on the floor and nestled further into the couch. The others followed suit; Loren helped Grace get settled onto one of the folding cots, before he and Jay crawled into a couple of the tents.

        Rest?? There was no way you could go to sleep at a time like this. Even with the time dilation, you were still on the clock. But… It had been a while since you’d been able to sleep. You were sore all over from all the running, lifting, fighting. You were very mentally drained. Even something as shoddy as the blow-up mattress with dingy blankets looked very inviting.            Loren noticed your hesitancy. “I got an alarm set, don’t worry. Two minutes, two hours of rest.”

          You nodded, finally relenting. You got comfy on the blanket pile, yawning again, laying on your back to contemplate the white, mundane ceiling for a few minutes, before your eyelids drifted shut…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          From the depths of the darkness, you heard a voice speaking your name. A very deep, soothing male voice, speaking barely above a whisper.

          He called your name, several times, growing louder each time, but never outright shouting. But it was enough to start pulling you out of your brain haze. Your vision cleared to see that you were standing in a clearing of a forest filled with willow trees, painted in light pastel hues. The lilac-colored grass beneath your feet was nearly as soft as a sherpa throw rug. A gentle breeze passed by, the rustling of willow branches emanating the sound of wind-chimes. You knew exactly where you were: The Dream realm.           ...Sort of. You were stuck behind some type of barrier, not letting you proceed forward, and obscuring your vision from the rest of the field behind you. Pushing your hand against the forcefield felt like pressing against a thin elastic membrane.

          Soon, the misty air started swirling around, forming a column of clouds just ahead of you, which lit up in a soft, aquamarine light and began to take on a familiar silhouette. Stepping out of the clouds was none other than Kenisime, the Dream entity, the embodiment of knismesis. Light seafoam skin, fluffy silver hair, very dark eyes that shimmered like gemstones. He wore a Fae-like outfit with a fluffy-trimmed vest, long flowing silk sleeves, a grassy skirt over a pair of knee-high pants, with leotard leggings leading into stirrups. Many white, fluffy tendrils of feathers draped down from his back, and three bird-like tailfeathers curled behind him.           “KENNI!!” You cried out, feeling your eyes tearing up. Out of instinct, you tried to run forward to give him a hug - but, again, you were bounced back from the barrier like running face-first into a screen door. "OOF-" You sighed in frustration. "Kenni! How're you here?? Rags said you wouldn't be able to reach out to us!!"

          The Dreamie smiled sadly, taking a few steps forward, placing his hand against the barrier. "I'm... afraid I can't reach you, dear. Not entirely. I've been trying for hours to seek you out...I've finally found an opening, however small." He offered you a compassionate smile. "I'm just relieved to see that you're alright."           You nodded. "I'm okay, but Rags... H-he– we've been separated, and I don't know if..." You choked on your words. There was so much you needed to tell him recounting your harrowing journey, and the predicament you were in now.           He tried pushing against the membrane again, and with enough force, was able to slip his hand through to take yours; though it was apparent he was struggling against the energy field. "Shhhh, hon...Take a deep breath," he directed gently, stroking your palm with his thumb. "You're going to be alright. And so will he. If anyone can find a way out of a dire situation, it's that stubborn, crazy Nightmare."

          After seeing your expression soften, he let go of your hand and glided backwards. "It's such a... strange dimension you've ended up in. Rather frightening, in a way." He gave a wave of his hand, and the sky erupted with imagery of outer space, shimmering with colorful stars and swirling nebulas; but somehow, more mystical.           "Whoa..." Your eyes widened. "What's this...?"

"The Astral plane," Kenni explained. "The realm above all others; an overseeing of all life in the intertwining of all realities. I myself can only see a glimpse into the threshold, but..." He gestured to a prominent shape in the expanse. It was mostly transparent, and looked strangely like an amoeba. Its thin membrane was a sickly, pale yellow color…The same color as Level Zero. It looked fuzzy and angular at the edges, like glitching static on a television.           “It’s not actively trying to take from the universe, but it’s still growing at an alarming rate…” He pointed to the edges, where stars were slowly being drawn to the object’s gravitational pull, eventually getting sucked in. Some clusters of stars shimmered in pleasant, crystalline hues; others were sickly, brown and burgundy patches, looking a bit like dried blood and necrotized skin. Kenni then pointed out a prominent, vivid red star, crackling with energy. Concerningly, its vibrancy was starting to peter out.

          Your eyes widened. “That’s…!”

          Kenni nodded. "I'm not strong enough to free him on my own. But perhaps, if I were to recruit the aid of other Dream or Surreal deities, maybe even Morpheus themselves, it could be possible to pull him from its clutches..." He rubbed the side of his neck. "But... I may not be able to act in time. Nor can I guarantee that it would be fool-proof." A sigh escaped him. "It would be far more feasible if the grand ruler of his realm would reach out for him, but that tyrant would celebrate his suffering." His brow furrowed in disdain. "In any case, with the help of my companions, I could bring you home. It pains me to think that I would need to leave Ragdoll behind... But at the very least, he would want to guarantee your safety over his own."           "I appreciate that, but... I can't just leave him. It just doesn't feel right. If you can't guarantee that you could save him too, then I'd feel awful."           He smiled and nodded. "That's very fair. I've a feeling I would say the same in your position." He held up his hands, facing his palms together. "Then at the very least, let me see if I can provide something to aid you."

          He closed his eyes and cupped his hands together, whispering in an unknown language. A misty orb started to form between his palms, swirling and lighting up in a soft glow, until it took the form of a silver arm bangle with his symbol, the Whispering Feather. It was a talisman, much like Ragdoll's. "My magic comes from the heart," he stated, bringing the cuff to place over his chest in demonstration. "Keep it close to you, and it will bring my healing and guidance from across dimensions." He pushed his hand back through the barrier, slipping the bangle over your wrist, enchanting it to shrink slightly to fit comfortably in place.

          "There is one other thing..." He frowned in worry. "I've had a premonition. It's hazy, but.. I fear he may lose himself if he is not careful." He waved his hand, showing a hazy silhouette of a terrifying beast, with six arms and long hair that billowed out past its shins. It looked vaguely like Rags, but it gave off an aura of madness unlike his own, and let out a chilling, downright Lovecraftian laugh, before the image faded away entirely. “I feel he may become… desperate. This world may try to twist him into something that he doesn’t want to become. But if anyone could reach out to him in a dire circumstance, it’s you,” he smiled reassuringly.

          You sighed deeply, feeling both relieved and nervous. You had more hope now that you could find him again…But you knew the journey wasn’t over until you finally tracked down that pompous Keymaster.           “Thank you, Kenni.” You put your hand back on the barrier, and he pressed his hand against your palm. His hand glowed turquoise for a moment, activating your bangle, which shot a gentle, ticklish pulse up the length of your arm, straight to your armpit. “EeEE-Hehehe!!” You jumped back, blushing.           The deity smiled cheekily. “There’s that cute giggle~ I look forward to hearing more of it once you’ve returned home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you heard Loren's alarm beeping. You felt content, well-rested, and comforted. Then, you jumped upright, quickly looking down at your wrist, gasping in excitement and relief to see that the feather talisman was still there. Kenni really had managed to connect with you. And now you were rejuvenated with a new sense of purpose. “Guys!!” You shouted. “Everyone, look!!” Loren and Jay were the first to shuffle out of bed to head over to you. Rory had been sleeping upright on a chair, jumping awake and glaring over in your direction. Elijah slowly peeked up above the back of the sofa. "Whoa... What's that?" Jay reached out to examine your bangle.

          "Well…” You explained how Ragaeli had a counterpart in the Dream realm, and how he’d been trying to reach out to you this whole time.           Grace sleepily sat down in a nearby chair, chuckling to herself. “Well I’ll be… Like I said, honey, you truly have a pair of guardian angels watching over you.”             Loren and Rory eyed you over skeptically.           "I'm serious! Watch.” You kept in mind what Kenni had said: His power emanates from the heart. You place the bangle over your chest, concentrated on teleporting to the other side of the room; and poof. In a burst of misty haze, you warped over to a chair at the far end of the room.             Jay, Loren, and Grace exclaimed in astonishment. In another flash, you teleported back over to your mattress. “I bet we could use this to get around each room faster!”             Rory stomped over to you, arms folded, glowering down at you. “So you expect us to believe that you just now happened to receive a magical talisman from some other entity outside this dimension? Where was this so-called god of yours almost an hour ago?”             “Seriously, dude??” Jay glared at him, marching up to him and putting her hands on her hips. “What’s your deal? We finally have something that could help us and you're gonna get skeptical again??"             “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Grace added. “Rory, I understand why you’re being cautious. But for heaven’s sake, learn to notice a sign when it's given to you."

            Rory looked like he was about ready to tussle with Jay, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. But hearing Grace, he eased up again, sighing and pacing around for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose.             “...What if they used it to get down into that chasm?” Loren suggested.             Rory paused, perking up at the suggestion.             “Oh yeahh, that could work!” Jay looked over to you. “Can you warp more than one person at a time? Might be good to have some extra security down there.”

            “Well…I’d probably be able to warp one other person with me. The magic is a little limited. I’d offer to pass it around between you guys so that you could teleport, but…” You demonstrated that you couldn’t take it off.             “I’d rather you didn’t put yourself in danger for our sake,” Grace commented. “What if whatever demon is down there isn't something we could contend with?" "We'll go together!" Jay stepped in. "Rory, Loren and me. Even you could camp out at the halfway point if you wanted, those southwest rooms are practically a fallout bunker." Grace scratched her chin in consideration. "...Maybe it'd be worth a shot," Elijah spoke up, to everyone's surprise. "I can't do much now that our cameras are gone. I still doubt this'll work, but...I don't really want to just lay around anymore."

"...Before we go..." You smirked a little, putting the talisman to your chest again. It picked up on your thoughts, starting to emanate wisps of soft, pastel blue magic, which snaked and danced through the air, toward the rest of the group. as they approached, they formed into large magical feathers. "Wha...??" Loren's face wrinkled in confusion. Rory took a defensive stance, putting a hand on the pistol at his waist. "The fuck are you trying to pull??" Jay seemed to know right away what was about to happen, her eyes going wide. "Oh hell no, not this again-!" She blushed and quickly backed up. The feathers soon slithered up against everyone's body. A couple targeted Loren's belly. Two slithered up against Jay's armpits. One affectionately caressed Grace's chin and Elijah's neck. All of them squealed and gasped with surprised giggles. Rory harshly smacked at the feather approaching him, causing it to dissipate. "What the fuck was that??" You grinned in amusement. "That is the real magic behind this." You took out Rags' burnt talisman. "Ragman's magic is similar, but a lot more intense. It's how it protected me through the Backrooms." Loren blinked. "Tickling?? You expect us to believe you survived entities and Levels with tickling?" "Believe me, I thought the same thing," Jay piped in. "But that magic's no joke. Any distraction would be a useful distraction at this point." Rory rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "Just stick to the teleporting, alright?" You snickered. "I make no promises~"

A ways down the mine shaft, you saw a partially caved-in section of the tunnel, looking like the dirt roof had collapsed. "And there it is," Rory gestured. "Loren's grand entrance." Loren grumbled in frustration. "I told you, it was an accident." "Quit denying it already," Rory grunted. "Mistakes happen. It's how you move on from them that shows what kind of man you are." Loren sighed, hanging his head. "...You think I'm proud of myself, knowing I miscalculated that badly? It was supposed to blast open a reservoir to flood a skin-stealer hideout." He turned away. "I'm supposed to be the smart one. The one that never messes up." "Well that's an impossible standard to put on yourself, honey," Grace patted him on the shoulder. You felt another grin come to your face, slowly putting the bangle to your chest. "Yeah, no-one's perfect. Lighten up a little~" by the time Loren noticed, there were already magical feathers sneaking up against his chin and belly. "Gyee-heheheh, heyy!!" The magic continued to playfully target all of them, making them squeak and yelp. Jay growled and eventually returned the attention. "That's it, come here you!!" She yanked you over and clamped her hands around your sides to start scribbling her claws up and down. You squealed and squirmed back and forth, trying to playfully push her arms away, smiling and blushing. Loren smiled and jumped in, targeting your armpits and ribs, making you shriek with more laughter. Elijah and Grace also looked like they were contemplating ganging up on you too... Before Rory marched over to all of you and yanked you apart. "Are you all fucking IDIOTS??" He hissed. "Knock it off with the noise! You'll attract an entity right to us!!" Loren rolled his eyes. "Oh lighten up. This is one of the safest spots on the map, remember?" Unfortunately, it had been too quiet, and too safe, for too long. ...Well, it felt like too long. In reality it had only been about ten minutes. As everyone continued into the mines, you heard an unsettling, raspy grunting sound. It was reminiscent of the deep clicking sound from the Grudge. Whipping around, you all saw a sickly humanoid figure starting to emerge seemingly from within the dirt walls of the tunnel: It was a grotesque amalgamation of bleeding limbs, wearing a "mask" seemingly made of spare body parts. It was the Slasher. It brandished a serrated cleaver, twirling it casually in its hand. "Oh fuck no!!" Loren hastily stepped backwards, scrambling to dig for something in his pocket. Jay on the other hand immediately let out a loud hiss, baring her fangs at the creature and charging forward to try and stab one with her own knife. Rory whipped out his gun and started shooting. The creature just laughed a sickly laugh and dodged the attacks. Soon, three more slowly crawled out of the shadows; one of which lumbered out from the room you were just about to head into.

"You'd better back the FUCK UP!!" Jay snarled, taking aim and shooting at one of the slashers trying to sneak up behind you. After successfully getting a shot at its shoulder, she let out another beastly snarl and football-tackled the other. Rory fought off one hand-to-hand with a series of self-defense techniques. Loren succeeded in pulling out what looked like a small laser gun, blasting the first slasher point-blank in its mask. It howled and staggered back. "You rotten wretches!!" Grace yelled. "Go crawl back into the sewers you climbed out of!!" She swiftly whacked one of the entities across the chest with her cane, and bringing it down on their head for good measure. Elijah didn't seem to know what to do with themselves, until they spotted an opportunity to put their foot out and trip up one of the slashers, allowing Jay the chance to pile-drive right on top of it to pin it down. Your heart was pounding, whipping around trying to see what you could do to aid them. Instinctively, you brought Kenni's cuff to your chest, activating its magic; you held your arm out just as one of the entities started swinging its cleaver down at your head. And the creature just... stopped, mid-swing. Kenni's magic wafted forward, giving off a puff of shimmering pixie-dust in its face. It lowered its arm, stood still to stare down at you for a moment, then turned and started trudging back into the mines. "Whoa..." You almost couldn't believe that it worked. Your group and the other slashers also paused in disbelief. The other three entities charged towards you, but you did the same thing. And, again, they paused, as if they'd been commanded to stop fighting. "How the hell-?!" Loren balked. With another burst of magic, a flurry of feathers erupted from the bracelet to get to work, surrounding the creatures and starting to tickle them from head to toe. Their laughter was like nails on a chalkboard. They even whined and shivered, trying to slash at the magic with their weapons. Rory took aim and was about to shoot again, but Jay pushed his arm down. "Just watch. You won't believe it til you see it." Finally, the magic relented and the entities staggered back, panting for breath. One of them pointed down the dark mineshaft, where you were headed. "Look for the right entrance," it rasped. "A shade different than the rest." With that, it huffed and disappeared in the other direction. Rory and Loren were both dumbstruck. You grinned smugly. "Told you."

All six of you decided to head to the end of the tunnel. After walking a little further, you were soon face-to-face with the Chasm: an enormous hole plunging straight down into the dark depths. The inner edges were lined with openings lit with fluorescents. Weirdly, it looked like a massive parking garage, spiraling down into the darkness. Loren brought your attention to the makeshift pulley that he'd mentioned. "Again, a work in progress. But just... Listen." Indeed, you heard what sounded like a whispering, gurgling beast at the bottom of the pit. You even saw the glint of a pair of red eyes peering back up at you. You shuddered. "Fuuuck that." "So what did that thing mean?" Jay put her hands on her hips to peer over the edge, looking at the various tunnel entrances. "I'm guessing maybe look at the lights?" You squinted at each opening. "Maybe there's a different-colored..." The behemoth from below suddenly shot up its long, gangly arm, its shadowy claw swiping just a few feet away from all of you. You all exclaimed and jumped back. "SHIT-!!" Rory seethed. You quickly scanned for the right tunnel entrance, until you spotted it: An opening with distinctly pale-blue fluorescents, rather than yellow. "There!!" You pointed. Jay stood next to you, holding your arm. "Alright, let's go-" But Rory nudged her away, taking your arm instead. "No. The rest of you guard the entrance. Keep an eye on that thing, radio me if you see it getting any funny ideas." He glanced down to you. "Stay close, rookie." "...Yes sir," Loren nodded. Both of them backed up. You took a deep breath, put your hand to chest, and warped you both down into the entrance. Unlike Rags' magic, which always sent you jolting forward on your feet after warping, Kenni's bangle had you both floating for a couple seconds before easing you down. You were right; you were now in a dingy parking garage. "So where do you think we should–" The moment you got a few feet further past the entrance, you felt Rory yank your arms down from behind, taking out a small rope to tie your wrists in place, just below your bangle. “AGH– What the hell?!” You frantically tried to tug your wrists free, but he was too strong. “Dude, what’re you doing?!”           “Making sure you don’t get any funny ideas,” he stated gruffly. “I’ve seen how this cuff of yours works. Can’t do jack shit if you can’t put it to your chest.”           You stared back at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?? After everything I’ve helped you with, you’re still suspicious of me?!”

          He just shrugged, shoving you to keep you moving forward. “It's a precaution. Nothing’s stopping you from warping your way to safety the moment you get your hands on something useful. Or trying that mind-control shit on me. You’d do the same in my position.”

          You growled and shook your head. “Can you blame me, with how you’ve been treating me?? If you’d get your head out of your ass long enough to see that I want the same thing all of you do…!”           He actually looked a bit regretful. "I'm not going to deny that you've helped us. You show some real tenacity and wit. But... I can't risk it." He scowled. "Been double-crossed one too many damn times in my day." He shoved you again, a bit less harshly this time. “Here’s the deal. You follow along, help me find some scrap, I’ll bring you back in one piece.”           You stammered in annoyance and disbelief, before relenting and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, but I’m snitching on your ass as soon as we get back.”           He scoffed. “A risk I'm willing to take."           All you could do for now was sulk and follow alongside him. But before long, the garage eventually led into a dungeon, with rusty prison cells. The dungeon from the journal. "I'll be damned. It was meant to be," Rory showed a hint of a smile for the first time. “Start looking around,” he ordered. “Remember, no funny ideas. Or I’ll lock you up down here until I’m done.”           As he started peeking around through the cells and corridors, you spotted something: A loose, jagged piece of a cell bar jutting out, about at your waist level. If you were quick about it, you might be able to use that to cut yourself free…           As soon as you were out of his peripherals, you backed yourself up against the shrapnel, starting to quickly, carefully saw at the rope. Rory took notice right at the moment you’d cut yourself free.           “What do you think you’re–”           In the blink of an eye, you brought your cuff to your heart, warped to him and charged into him at full-force, slamming him up against the cell bars. “NGH–!!” When he tried to shove you back, something happened: The cuff let off a flash of wispy blue magic, pausing his hand in its tracks. Kenni’s defensive magic had activated, releasing a calming effect.

          “Here’s the deal,” You hissed. “You back the fuck off and let me help you how I want to help you, and I won’t use Kenni’s other magic against you.” Strands of magic started to waft up from the bangle, forming into feathery sigils.           His eyes went wide. “Don’t you fucking dare.”           You felt a smirk come to your face. “Actually… Maybe I should anyways~” One of the feathers floated up to stroke under Rory’s chin. The man shivered and fidgeted, trying to shove you back again.           But this time, his arms were slowly restrained by the magic, his wrists placed at the sides of his head. “Nnh–! How the hell…?!” Even his muscular frame couldn’t break free from the deity’s gentle hold.

          Your mischievous grin just grew wider. You slipped your hands up to start tickling at his armpits, kneading at his ribs. The man yelped and tried desperately to stifle his chuckles. The feathers caressed his neck and chest playfully. One slipped under the rim of his tank-top. He bit his lip, shivering. "K-Knock it off!!" He growled. You snickered. "Not such a tough guy now, are you?" You tickled his sides and ribs more firmly. "There's no bargaining your way out of this one, buddy. Be lucky that Rags' magic isn't working. You'd be howling by now." The ex-soldier yelped again, grunting and growling to try and stave off his building laughter. But once more magical feather tendrils slipped into his tanktop, he cracked. He let out hearty laughter, panting and grunting. You even saw a blush cross his cheeks. In turn, you felt yourself blush too. He was already pretty hot to begin with, but he was even prettier now with a smile on his face. "About time you smiled for once," You commented. "Admit it, it feels nice, doesn't it?" "Rrghhh-heheh...Sh-shut up!" His blush deepened. His biceps flexed as he kept trying in vain to free himself. "W-We don't hahahave time for this!!" "You're right, we don't," you snapped back. "So surrender now, or I'll make sure this magic keeps going the entire time we're down here looking." It took a few minutes more of tickling, caressing and taunting before the gruff man finally relented. "A-ALRIGHT ALRIHIHIGHT!! I won't tie you up again!!" He barked. "J-Just quit it!!" You smirked in satisfaction, and the magic tapered off; not before one of the tendrils affectionately stroked his cheek. "That's better~" You spent several minutes looking around; Rory was huffy and disgruntled the whole time after your ticklish sneak-attack. Soon, you both spotted it: A huge computer tower, almost Rory's height. Sapphire blue, with gold-colored trim. it looked like it was in pristine condition. You approached it, eyeing it over. "This is...Way too big to take back with both of us." You looked over to Rory, hopefully. "Rory... Please let me take this back. I promise I'll come back for you." He had his hands in his pockets, gaze narrowed at you, stewing silently for a moment, before he sighed and looked away. "...Fine. Don't have much choice anyways." He turned to walk a few steps away. "I promise," you reiterated. You wrapped your arms around the tower, closed your eyes to focus, and warped away to the radio room. The tower was lowered gently to the floor near the control panel. While you were still hovering, you warped back to the prison cell, right back to where you were. Rory turned around, looking at you in disbelief. Before he had time to comment, you smiled and grabbed his hand, warping you both back up to where the others were waiting for you. They cheered and gave you congrats. "I hope Rory didn't get up to any funny business," Grace nudged him on the way back. For a moment, you and Rory locked eyes. He looked like he'd already resigned himself to getting chewed out. And for a brief moment, you considered it. But decided against it. You smiled and gave a nod. "No, not at all. He's a hardass, but he's a real team player. You have a good leader."

He sighed, looking grateful. Grace squinted. "...Somehow, I smell bull," she poked him with her cane. "But I'll buy it. After all, this one knows not to get on Mama Grace's bad side," she gave him the disappointed-mother look. Rory cleared his throat. "Y-Yes ma'am." Her expression softened. "However, I agree. You've become a pretty excellent leader." "...I appreciate that. I'd like to think I was." "Was?" You raised an eyebrow. The ex-soldier looked you over. "...In my military division, I mean. I enlisted to protect my people and my family. Had no idea what I was getting into. No-one ever does." His face wrinkled in anger. "Fucking bastards stabbed my entire division in the back. Forced me to be a double-agent. After singing our praises, I overheard 'em wanting to use us as sacrifices even though I knew a better game plan that could gain the upper hand. But they were cowards and wanted to take the easy way out. They gave me an ultimatum. Go along with their plan to kill off the front line, or discharge me right then and there." He balled his fists. "So I walked away. After I told all my buddies and the General what they were planning. All hell broke loose and the general was stripped of his rank." He scoffed. " 'For my country'... What a fucking joke." "Damn..." Jay frowned. "Well shit, dude..." Loren patted him. "You made the noble choice. You showed what kind of man you are," he smiled.

Back at the control room, you all waited with bated breath again. The computer tower was fully functional, and worked like a charm when it was hooked up to the radio. Jay and Rory ensured that all the hardware and equipment was in top shape. Loren and Grace ran their algorithm again... "...Jay... Come in? Jay?" Jay gasped and ran up to the mic. "CIAN?! Cian!! I'm here!! Oh thank fuck you're okay!!" A wave of relief washed over all of you, cheering amongst yourselves. Grace and Elijah teared up; Grace gave them a hug.

          You concluded with them that they hadn't heard a word out of Ragaeli. Or the Keymaster. But you reiterated that he was the best chance of getting answers, and that he was out there. But as the others relayed information, and began to reach out to other bases, you felt a pull at your mind. You kept thinking about the Keymaster's... 'advice.' "You're clever enough. Find your own way back to him." Something was telling you that this radio wasn’t going to be the way to get reunited with Rags. How would a radio tower reach out to a greenhouse in the middle of a dead forest? It was for them, not for you. It's time to move on.

You took a deep breath. “Guys… I’m going to go.”

          “What??” Jay looked at you with concern. “Go where?”           “I... I don't know. But I just feel like I need to keep looking.” "Don't be ridiculous," Rory snapped. "You're not wandering off after we got what we all needed." "Dude, where are you gonna go??" Loren frowned. "As far as we know, the only thing at the end of the other maintenance tunnel is a dead end."

          This was exactly what you were worried about. You didn’t have time to argue. If anyone could get them to calm down, it was Kenni… Maybe you could somehow use the bracelet's magic to convey that. You instinctively brought it to your heart.           The talisman lit up in a soft blue glow again. It started emanating with five tendrils of magic, swirling gracefully through the air, making contact with everyone’s chest and disappearing in a sparkly flourish. Everyone in that moment became completely calm.

          “I see…” Grace sighed and stepped forward to give you a hug. “Well then… Just be careful, honey.” Rory rubbed his brow. "I think you're nuts. But...If you feel like it's the right move, then I'm not gonna stop you." He gave a soft smile and patted your shoulder. "Just know that you're always welcome here if you change your mind." After you said your goodbyes, you headed down the opposite end of the maintenance tunnels, coming across a single unlocked door. Opening it revealed… Another long hallway with eerie, boring white walls. Great. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

          But something caught your eye, laying on the floor in the distance: something small and blue.

          Closing the door behind you, you made your way closer. It was a fancy, wooden blue paintbrush with gold trim. it matched the journal, and the computer tower. There appeared to be some kind of inscription on the handle. You picked it up to try and see if you could read it…

          The moment you did, you were teleported away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          You gasped with a start when you landed on your feet. The paintbrush promptly vanished from your hand. The walls around you were still stark white, but you now stood in what looked like a huge, empty art gallery. There were small and large canvases and pedestals, most of which were illuminated by the soft warm glow of spotlights. A couple empty sections of wall had small ladders and step-stools set up in front of them. It felt very… Serene. Lonely, of course, but it somehow gave you the same comfort as huddling up in a chair at a library.

          Your thoughts were interrupted by the quiet tap of footsteps on the hardwood.

          A humanoid figure strolled into view. They appeared to be a tall young man, though it was hard to tell for sure, given their entire body emanated a soft glow and they had no visible face. He wore suede pants with a classy sweater and matching hat, using an ornate wooden cane. 

          You gave a friendly, but cautious wave to him. "Hello…"           He simply gave a bow.           "Is this your... gallery?"           He nodded.           "Oh, well uh, it's...Nice?"

          "Quite, isn't it?" He finally spoke, strolling closer to you. "A testament to many creative minds that have passed through these halls." He had a warm, polite voice, and his overall aura was very soft and welcoming. A bit like the Dark Sovereign.

          He wandered over to a nearby empty pedestal. "Ahh, one of my favorites."           He responded to your perplexed expression with a soft chuckle. "You can't see it, can you? Maybe one of these days, a Wanderer will be able to see what I see..." He drifted off, looking outward to the gallery with an aloof stance. "The creative endeavors of many are captured here." He walked up to one of the large nearby canvases, giving it a tap with his cane. It rippled and flickered with color, before a painted image flickered into view; an impressionist painting of a pond, surrounded by flowers and waterfowl.

          “Oh wow…!” Your eyes lit up. He demonstrated with a few other canvases and pedestals, revealing ceramic works that moved as if they were alive, mixed-media pieces that shifted and spun like cogs inside of a clock, and photographs of seasons and environments that emanated with the smells associated with spring, summer and autumn.           "Would you like to add your painting as well?" He turned his attention back to you. He manifested a palette and a variety of paintbrushes in his hand, and a large bucket of white paint in the other.           "Oh-! Well, sure...!" Was this a test of some kind? You took the brushes from him, he summoned up a palette for you and pointed out an empty patch next to the pond painting. “Try it out. Perhaps start with a flower. The paint will see your mind’s desire and shift accordingly.”

          You nodded, focusing your mind on the thought of your favorite type of flower. Dipping your brush in the bucket, you watched in curiosity as it did, indeed, shift to the various colors needed. As you made your paint strokes, the flower lit up with vibrancy and movement, as if it was blowing in a pleasant breeze. It started to lift itself off of the canvas, flowing and twirling in the air like a pinwheel. Your eyes lit up in awe. “Whoa… That’s so cool… I sure wish my art could always do this, heh.”

          The Artist chuckled. “This doesn’t often happen, you know. Pulling a subject out from its canvas is a mark of a truly passionate heart. You should feel proud.”

          “....” Something suddenly dawned on you. A crazy idea.

          “You said… I can paint anything, right? Does that include people that I know? Would it bring them here?”           He shrugged. “Given that they are residing within the confines of our world, it's very possible. Just... Please don't paint a dangerous entity. I don’t need any brutish beasts causing wanton destruction in my gallery.”           You felt your breath quickening. That’s it!! That’s how I can get him back!! You frantically climbed up a nearby stool. Your palette traded out its floral hues for black, orange, yellow, and shades of red.

          You began painting Ragaeli to the best of your ability, starting with his head. It wasn't perfect, but the magic of the paintbrushes aided the process, filling out your linework as you went along.            Curious..." The Artist watched you work, tilting his head. "Is this an entity from your world?"           "Yes and no. Just watch." You were in too much of a hurry to explain anything. But you also didn't rush it too much. Heaven forbid your friend get stuck looking like Doodlebob.

          As you began to paint in his striped neck and part of his jester collar hanging off of his bare shoulders, something happened. The painting winked at you. And then, his massive palms manifested and slammed against the wall from the inside of the canvas. 

          "RAGS?! Ragman, that's you, right?! Can you hear me??"

          He didn't answer, instead reeling his head back. You hurried off of the stool and stepped back, just in time for him to headbutt the wall as hard as he could, breaking right through the canvas and drywall and staggering on his feet. His jester top had only partially manifested, torn to shreds and revealing his midriff. He was still wearing his tattered black shorts.

          The Artist jumped back in shock. “My stars–!!”

         “RAGS!!” You immediately tackled the Nightmare to hug him tight. He scooped you up to give you a spin and a noogie, followed by a scribble of fingers to your side and belly. “HAHA– I told ya you’re a clever one!!”           You squealed from his quick tickle-attack, beaming up at him, feeling tears well to your eyes. “I–I’m SO glad it worked!! I was so scared we wouldn’t see each other again! I thought those plants might’ve killed you!!”           His giddy giggles died down into dry chuckles. “Heheh, yeah, well… They gave it their best shot.” He backed up from you. It was only then you noticed the third-degree burn scars covering his body.

          You gasped in horror and covered your mouth. “Oh my god…"

          He stood upright, folding his arms behind his head - instantly wincing and dropping them down again, looking at the burn across his peach-fuzz stripes. “Hhhhh… I can’t heal this shit. Tinkerbell couldn't either... Ah well. 'Least I'm still in one piece."           You still frowned in worry. “Rags, what happened? What did you do after we got separated?? You met the Nymph?”           He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yeahh, she was a little pissed about me chopping her garden into salad, but she agreed to try and help me if I healed them. Said she couldn't do the same for me." He ruffled your hair. "Just don't worry about it, alright? I’m not gonna let a little sunburn stop me from getting you outta–”

          His eyes suddenly went wide as saucers when he saw your wrist. He yanked your arm forward to gawk at the bangle that Kenni had given you. “KENNI–!! How?!” he brushed a finger over the Dream deity’s sigil with surprising tenderness, as if he didn’t fully believe he was touching it.           “He was able to get through to me before we met back up,” you explained. “He tried to reach out to you, but said that he was being blocked off from you…”

          “My sincerest pardon,” the Artist finally spoke up, cautiously approaching. “But who… What, are you?”           Rags turned his attention away from your bangle to smirk at the man. “The best nightmare you’ll ever have~” he winked. “Say, don’t suppose you know how to get to the Hub from here?”           “...I’m surprised you know of the Hub… Why do you ask?”           “We need to find the Keymaster,” you added. “We’ve been told that he’s the only one who could help us get back to my world."

          The Artist seemed to stiffen at the mention of that name. “...I see… Well…I’m afraid I can’t simply let you through without clearance.” He loosened back up, sounding apologetic. “The Hub is the heart of this dimension, the means to gain entry to almost every other Level…”

          Rags narrowed his gaze, slumping over and looming over the Artist. “I. Don’t. Have. Time for this,” he growled out each word slowly. “We don’t have time for this. My friend needs to get back home, and that slippery little weasel is apparently the only shot we have!!”           The Artist stepped back and held his hands up defensively, intimidated by the monster. “Th-that is understandable, truly, b-but I have strict orders to–”           With a snap of the fingers, the man was suspended in midair.

          You felt a grin come to your face, knowing what was about to come next.           The Artist tried desperately to tug and wriggle free from the red aura holding him in place. "Y-You brute!! Release me at once!!"

          Rags chuckled devilishly. "Relaaax, I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm just gonna show you why everyone has been surrendering to me left and right~" He cracked his knuckles, wiggling his fingers at the man. "You aren't ticklish, are you?” The entity froze up. "I… Don't actually know? W-Why do you ask...?" The Nightmare smiled wider in glee. "Ooohoho, even better! Let's find out then~!" Instead of immediately diving in with his hands, he summoned up a palette and paintbrushes of his own, hopping up into the air like he was sitting on an invisible stool. A beret appeared on his head. "Quite the nice gallery ya got here, lots of great talent! How 'bout we make you the next Mona Lisa?" "W-What do you mean??" The monster smirked. Small pools of red "paint" appeared on his palette; condensed, liquid-like clumps of his magic, He dipped his brush in, twirled it in the air for a moment, before bringing it up to the Artist's belly, starting to scribble and stroke and drag it in circles. The red energy transferred ticklish sparks all up and down the man's torso. The poor Artist immediately went wild, howling out with startled laughter. "GYAAH-HAHAHA!! OH MY HEHEHEAVENS!!" He wiggled back and forth like a flailing fish, shaking his head. The Nightmare giggled. "Oooh, looks like this canvas takes to my paint pretty well~! Let's try some other techniques. How about some pointilism?" He started giving rapid-fire pokes with the brush tip, all up and down the man's belly, sneaking up to his sides and armpits, crossing over to the other side. "YIEEE-HEHEHEH OH P-PLEHEHEHEASE NOOOHOHOHO!!" He whined, his body jolting and shivering and trying to shrink in on itself. The Nightmare's shitty, playful smirk never left his face. "Hehehe, I didn't know I was gonna have a performing art piece~! What a musical canvas!" He giggled. He summoned up another brush, dipping it in his magic 'paint' and making it join the fray, alternating both brushes up and down the Artist's sides. "Tiiickletickletickle! Keep dancing for me, it adds a lot of character to the brush strokes~" You shivered, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. You sure missed the brat's teasy playfulness. He picked up on your thoughts. You knew the moment he glanced over at you with his devilish gaze that you were about to be his next 'masterpiece.' "R-Raags, don't you even-" Within a moment, you were restrained next to the Artist. You squeaked and bit your lip, already smiling and trying not to giggle. "Come now, I've gotta reward you for a job well done in bringing me back~" He winked. This time, his hair tendrils rose up, morphing their tips into paintbrush bristles. "Y'know, I've always been partial to impressionism, lotsa chaotic little strokes of color working together to make something whole~" With that, all of the brushes started stroking, swiping and twirling over your belly button, sides, hips, underarms...Just about anywhere they could reach. Yours and the Artist's shoes were pulled off, to which the man started squealing and pleading and shaking his head. But the bristles started to circle over his pale soles and heels, sawing between his toes. "NOOO-AAHAHAHA!! Oh my staaahahahars!! P-Pleehehehease!!" He whined, trying desperately to curl his toes.

Likewise, you were quickly reduced to hearty laughter, shivering from the onslaught of brushes... Loving every moment. After the harrowing perils you faced, you definitely earned a good wrecking. The tickle monster continued his "painting" session for a good ten minutes, occasionally licking his lips, forming his fingers into a frame, giving a chefs'-kiss gesture, joking about painting 'happy little trees'. He finally pulled back to allow you both the chance to breathe. And to toss his beret away. That was a new record for keeping a hat on. "Not bad, not bad, I think we've all had some great painting lessons today~! But y'know, my favorite painter is Jackson Pollock. Dude got real wild with his canvases. Just imagine, aaalll those hundreds of paint splatters, really workin' over that canvas~" He snickered evilly. Ohh lord no. You could definitely imagine it. So could the Artist, who seemed totally flustered and giggle-drunk from the attention. "N-Now nowhehehehe l-let's not get too c-carried awahahahay...!" This time, Ragaeli lunged his tendrils out toward the air above both of you, rapidly leaving streaks, 'splashes' and hasty strokes in the air, creating a very Pollock-like mess of intertwined magic, crackling and buzzing like a plasma ball. He leaned in close to the Artist. "Laaast chance~ Let us into the Hub or you'll be my new Magnum Opus~" The man trembled. "I-I... I wont succumb to your threats..!" He tried to puff out his chest. "Suit yourself~" Rags chuckled deviously. With a wave of his hand, the entire field of magic came down on both of you. And both of you howled and shrieked with laughter, your bodies flooded from head to toe with the ticklish onslaught. It felt unbearable, but amazing. You didn't realize how much you missed this absolute rush. "YIEEEE-HEHEHEHE RAAAHAHAHAHAGS!! STAAAHAHAHAP!!" "GAAAH-HAHAHAHA!! OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAAAYY!! I YIEHIHIELD, I YIELD!!" The man cried out desperately. With another flick of the Nightmare's hand, the magic dissipated, lowering you both to the floor. The Artist doubled over backwards, having to catch himself with his cane before he fell to the floor. He slumped forward, clutching his belly, panting for breath. "That... is c-certainly a...unique power..." He cleared his throat, standing upright. "If that's how you intend to contend with our Keymaster, that ought to be a rather... amusing confrontation," he chuckled. "I'm not supposed to do this, but you've both thoroughly impressed me. And you've...Given me a rather exciting new experience," he chuckled a little sheepishly. "That's what I'm here for~" Rags winked. "If I can't beat 'em, I'll just tickle 'em into submission," he snickered. The Artist cleared his throat again, straightening out his sweater and hat. "In any case... Come." He beckoned toward the very back wall. Once he approached, he tapped his cane to the wall. The wallpaper peeled itself down and away, revealing a door. And that door opened up to a massive, cylindrical tunnel, much like a subway station, or a tunnel underneath a mountain. It stretched as far as the eye could see, dimly illuminated by warm yellow fluorescents.

"I warn you..." The artist turned to both of you, his tone growing firm. "The Keymaster is not an easy man to bargain with. ...He has his reasons, however. Carrying the weight of the world on one's shoulders is prone to give them an over-bloated sense of pride and obligation." He 'looked' you both over. "But such a unique duo might intrigue him. You've stubbornness, and cleverness; you're driven toward your purpose. I believe he'll quite respect that."

Ragaeli scoffed. "I'm not here to earn his respect. Bastard's been running scared ever since he started stalking us around." "Thank you," you quickly spoke up, taking the Artist's hand to shake it. "Really. This means a lot."

After saying farewell to the Artist, you both crossed the threshold into the Hub. A sense of accomplishment welled up in you... But a sense of uncertainty still loomed over your head. You had no idea what to expect. Was the Keymaster a vengeful god? Was it just a matter of talking things out? Was it all just a big misunderstanding? And why did everything keep pointing to signs of the Nightmare's demise?

There was no going back now. It was time to end this hellish adventure for good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Footnotes:

The Checkpoint: https://sta.sh/029ed71kwlzl

Mineshaft: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_186.2 Slasher: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Slashers

Skin-stealer: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Skin-Stealers

Anethika: https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Anethikas

Art Museum ("Creative Minds") : https://sta.sh/01m1r2z7bl57

Insert obligatory apology for this chapter being so late, life got in the way, Muse wasn't cooperating, etc. etc. Truthfully I rewrote this chapter about three times. 🙃 I knew I wanted Y/N teaming up with other wanderers while separated from Rags; it was a matter of trying to figure out how to make it compelling and not convoluted.

I honestly also used this chapter as an outlet to vent a lot of my personal struggles with depression. It really re-surfaced this year, after months of dealing with crippling anxiety. A few of my friends have also really been going through it. As a whole we're all just... So fed up with shit. A cookie to those who can figure out what these five other characters are meant to represent 👍

A couple of the settings are actually based off of dreams I had. One was wandering through a mine shaft that led to different rooms. The chasm was a very creepy dream where I lowered myself down with a pulley into a round parking garage; I got swiped by a huge shadow-monster before being startled awake. And the maintenance tunnels are based directly off of where I work: a huge vacation resort with an entire underground maintenance basement that gives me the heebie-jeebies every time I have to go down there.

We're finally in end-game territory; the next chapter will be the penultimate chapter. I'm hell-bent on getting it posted by the end of this month, so stay tuned!

#backrooms #fanfic #tickle fic #tw: depression #tw: existentialism #nihilism #tw: horror #tickling #tickle monster #monster boy

[bardofhype]

I did it again

okay so. i had a few lore thoughts about Piccolino and i knew i had to write them down in an ordered manner somewhere. and my mind went "what if you made a fic about it" and i went "okay sure what if I made a fic about it" and Good Lord Did I Make A Fic About It in which the staff of Peppino's Pizza is a positively weird found family and a chili pepper goes through Something

TW: unethical experimentation, injection mentions, light existential talk and a first-person POV of a semi-heavy dissociation episode

#the bard writes #bard's ocs #pizza tower oc #piccolino #i am very scared to tag this as pizza tower. but that will not stop me from doing so anyways #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #gustavo #fake peppino #tw: unethical experimentation #tw: injections #tw: injection ment #tw: existentialism #tw: dissociating #tagging the tws just in case

[ladyblogofficialreporter]

This… this is android whump irl…

This is a robot called ‘Can’t Help Myself’ made by artists Sun Yuan and Peng Yu in 2016. The robot is designed to keep a blood-like hydraulic fluid within a certain radius while it leaks out of the robot. If it fails to do this, it would stop working, since there’d be no fluid left to keep it running.

Every day, the robot would sweep the liquid back. At first, it was relatively easy to contain, so the robot had time to perform little programmed ‘happy dances’. It did this every time it managed to do its job and contain the fluid.

However, as time went by, it got harder and harder to contain. There was more and more fluid leaking out each day, less and less time for dancing. Eventually, the robot had no time left for happy dances, constantly trying to keep itself alive.

In 2019, the robot couldn’t contain the fluid anymore, meaning there was nothing left to keep it running. That was when it was revealed that the robot had been slaving away for three years, struggling to keep the hydraulic fluid in… when there was no hydraulic fluid to begin with. The robot had run on electricity the whole time. The fluid had nothing to do with it. It’s entire purpose was meaningless and it had spent three years for nothing.

…

Someone write this.

#whump scenario #android whumpee #whump writing #whumpee #whump #whump prompt #whumpblr #android whump #why do they hurt the robot like this? #It’s just a baby leave it alone! #whump community #no caretaker #Who’s the whumper here lol? #purposeless #purposelessness #tw: existentialism #scientist whumper #experiment #modern art #modern whump #Art whump #robot whumpee #robot whump #whumpy things #whumpy thoughts #whump thoughts #whump tropes

[never-took-a-lesson]

By then, Cogsworth was able to peer through the thicket and spot, first of all, Forte’s stark white wig that he was fond of wearing in the modern day, and then the rest of the man, all dressed up pretty and proper in the uniform of a gentleman from his time.  

Forte himself was slightly unsettling, like a ghost from the past, but there was someone else he was talking to that was yet more supernatural.  Cogsworth had a difficult time making them out.  Even with his night vision, it was like the light around them was dimmed.  He could make out a tall, lean figure and yellow eyes.

“I request no favors.  What I need to do in order to get her back, I am willing to do on my own.  All I ask of you is if you have any knowledge on where she’s gone?” Forte’s voice sunk into a baritone purr, apparently in an effort to be charming.

He really is looking to bring Rose back.

“Am I to understand you’ve dipped into the world of the dead looking for your Rose?  I know you see death as no barrier when it comes in regard to your family.  Your husband is evidence of that,” the other voice came, feminine but with a similar devilishly silky quality as Forte’s, “You have not turned up luck in your ventures into necromancy, dear Maestro?”

“I could not even contact her spirit, no matter what I did.  My husband said he has no recollection of reuniting with our daughter in death.”

Cogsworth could feel his shoulders fall.  What Forte said was true.  Although, the longer Cogsworth has been alive again, the less and less of the afterlife he remembered, there was one thing that Cogsworth was certain he’d remember forever… that Rose never met him in the astral plane after her time on Earth was done.  That sorrow permeated even the eternal paradise.  That and the fact that there was a very real possibility Cogsworth would never meet Forte in Heaven was the reason he consented to be brought back to the living world, even if it was at the cost of his immortal soul.  Cogsworth felt incomplete without his family.  

And now he witnessed Forte bargaining to complete it once again.

#ic #event: house husband #side character: cogsworth #tw: religious themes #tw: existentialism #tw: death

[friendball-irl]

It's weird to think that there's some Pokemon that, under the right conditions, could possibly live forever.

Ghosts that choose to never pass on, grass types that constantly regrow their dead parts, rock and steel types too study to ever weather or break, or even dragons and fairies that simply don't die unless killed.

It's a fascinating thought, but it also sounds lonely. I'd hope they'd meet eventually and keep each other company. It's what I would want, at least.

#don't mind my musings i just had to write it down somewhere #pokemon irl #in character #graystuff #tw: death mention #tw: existentialism #ooc: just in case

[daggersandarrows]

my fear of death and forever and not-being-around-forever is mostly under control, most of the time, between meds and therapy and all the shit i've picked up to cope in the years since i turned sixteen and it hit me like a truck, but god jesus fuck do i feel it when i'm with people i love. i don't have enough time to love you. there's not enough time in the universe to give you all the love you deserve. i wish i had more years just for all the extra love to go someplace.

#tw: existentialism #thane.txt

[monsterdramahub]

Hello, have some completely unsolicited MD soul lore that I happened to have lying around.  Because I wanna dump info but don’t have the energy to write something new.

The Merfolk (Gourmand, Slugsworth, Marinus, Maiden, Mastodon, Judas and Slayer) have no souls. They are insanely long lived and extremely durable with the drawback that they have no afterlife, or at least, no afterlife that is accessible to anyone else.

The Objecthead’s (Static, Tabs, Ari and Huey) souls will rapidly dissipate in the absence of a host to anchor them to reality. Attempting to absorb a loose soul of this type is an extremely bad idea. Any attempting to take their soul will merely become the new host and their body will not be their own anymore. 

The Microraptors (Bittersworth, Napoleon and Sebastian) are artificial life and do not have souls but their consciousness can be stored away allowing them to be reborn. 

The Half-Merfolk (Joei and Roja) do have souls, but they are so loosely defined they cannot be taken or owned. Likewise they have a loosely defined afterlife, unable to pass into the underworld proper, their spirits linger airily, only manifesting in a set range near where they died.

#general lore #tw: existentialism #lore: ore horde #lore: topaz corp #lore: amethyst empire #lore: rosegold kingdom #lore: sapphire regency #lore: gourmand #lore: slugsworth #lore: marinus #lore: maiden #lore: mastodon #lore: judas #lore: slayer #lore: static #lore: tabs #lore: ari #lore: huey #lore: bittersworth #lore: napoleon #lore: sebastian #lore: joei #lore: roja

[maureendsouza]

Character Intro – Maureen D'Souza

Basics

Full name: Maureen Aspen D'Souza Age: 25 Gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her Hometown: Lunar Cove Species: Human Occupation: Actress at The Pendulum Playhouse

Background

tw: little bit of ageism

Her parents are wicked old, probably currently in their 70's. The rest of her siblings are solidly older than her and this made it super clear to Maureen that she was an 'accident'. She's got a wicked complex about it and death as a concept. She doesn't want to ever be elderly while the rest of her family is so young, literally scares her SO much. Due to this, she really wants to become immortal. She really leaned into acting as a means to fully escape from her fears; what's death mean to someone who can microdose being anyone? Maureen likes that she can, at least in some small way, live hundreds of lives by just stepping onstage.

Wanted Connections

She's lived in Lunar Cove for her entire life and certainly has picked up a good handful of friends either from part-time jobs, school, or childhood! HMU Someone she's done theatre with, either at the Playhouse or in high school. Neighbors! People who live in the same Downtown apartment complex as her would be super cool. A vampire who she can thirst after maybe form a friendship or something more for her to like either pursue that sweet sweet immortality or dissuade her from the very concept. Ex-girlfriends! My beloved has probably dated a handful of girls that were either semi-serious things or on the cusp of being serious. It could've ended amicably or horribly! Just hmu and we can cobble something together.

#tw: ageism #it's a light mention but still worth it imo #tw: existentialism #character development

[thedooms]

Birthdays

I've endured a lot of hardship this last year. I've lost my mother, 7 kittens, and a dog. But my mom left me one last lesson before she passed. "Celebrate while you're here"  

There are some people who don't celebrate their birthdays. Maybe there is some trauma surrounding it. Maybe you don't like it when people pay attention to you. Maybe you don't like being gifted things without the expectation of reciprocation.  Maybe you just don't give it any importance.

  But I want to ask everyone who does that a question. What does "not celebrating" give you? The satisfaction of not rocking the boat? Of not troubling anyone? Of not bringing up a sordid past? I used to do the same thing. My birthday was just another day except I maybe got a pizza. But when my mother passed, I had an epiphany.

  A birthday isn't something for you to celebrate. It is for other people to celebrate YOU. It's not something someone does out of obligation, but of their own free will. Because they want to. They want to celebrate the fact that YOU are here, YOU mean something to people, and YOU matter to them. I know it's not easy, to put yourself out there. But I encourage you all, PLEASE, let people celebrate you while you're here. Because one day, the person people might want to celebrate most might not be here. My mother didn't make a big deal of her birthdays. She was a mom for whom the greatest gift of all was having her children close. I put on the happiest face I could for her as she was slowly torn away from me, and I still wish I could do more.

If you don’t want a party? That’s fine. If you don’t want a big party? ABSOLUTELY FINE. I certainly don’t. Celebrate however you’re comfortable. Let people say happy birthday, let people give you a small gift if they want to. Don’t let the “just another day” mentality drag you down. Because it’s not just another day. It’s a day with you in it. And that’s worth celebrating.  

So, to anyone reading this. Those who like their birthdays, those who don't, and everyone in between. I want you to know. I will celebrate your birthday. I will celebrate EVERYONE'S birthday. Maybe not all huge, but I will always pour my heart and soul into showing you I care, and I'm glad you're in my life. I will take every opportunity I can to celebrate what I've got in life every chance I get. Birthdays, Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July, I DO NOT CARE.

Because my life, and the people in it, are precious. And that means you too.

#Birthday #Happy Birthday #The Dooms #Dooms Versus #Shut Up Dooms #tw: existentialism #tw: death #tw: birthdays #rant #Happiness #Celebration #yes even you

[comatosebunny09]

Sometimes, I feel like my personality is a lie. Like, when you strip away the friendliness and maternal instincts, who the hell am I? 🙃🙃🙃

#tw: existentialism

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Good grief. I'm too tired to filter and too tired to write so instead I'll do (barely coherent) philosophy babble on Tumblr. (am sorry but but deep thoughts must exit brain)

I think it's interesting how much younger people--gen-z and a decent number of millennials--put emphasis on emotions and trauma and human connection.

We have an idealism and a pessimism and a desire for a better world and it's beautiful.

But I think it's overwhelming too. To be seeped in emotions all the time, faced with conflicting thoughts and feelings and always being aware of how you might differ from others--it's not easy.

And yet... That empathy and interconnectedness makes us who we are. Can we find balance? Can we seek harmony?

And because I am in the mood, have some poetry

A world of Emotion

A world of Thought

A world of Imput

Constant and Strong

In the dark night

And in the bright day

We seek each other

We seek ourselves

We seek those answers

Within and without

A world of Emotion

A world of Thought

A world of Imput

Constant and Strong

What will we find

When the clock has run down

In harmony will we rise,

Or will

At the inevitable sunset

We find not an answer at all?

#My poetry is probably kinda depressing #And totally the source of too much philosophizing #Oh and tiredness #But I am waaaay too tired to listen to the voice that says to filter #Like my eyes are bordering on closing themselves #And what do I do? #Overthink on main #bri rambles #sleepy philosophy #As usual lol #tw: existentialism

[hamoodmood]

In another universe I was happy

#in another universe #in another life #girlblogging #girlblogger #spilled words #photography #a blog for the heartbroken #abandonment issues #depressing quotes #escapism #existentialism #romanticism #born to die #childhood trauma #just girly things #tw depressing stuff #tw depressing thoughts #unlovable #spilled ink #poem #picture #poetry #liminal spaces #sadcore #sadgirl #mentally drained #feelings

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Having suicidal thoughts and existential dread is such a personal hell. Like- do I wanna die or nah?

#tw: suicide #tw: existentialism

[never-took-a-lesson]

“I know this place.”

Cogsworth had refused Antoine’s offer to turn around and head toward the castle.  They’d walked deeper into the Black Forest until cresting a small hill.  There was a very old tree, hollow on the inside and nearly dead.  It was surrounded by high grass and a few sparse, medium sized trees.  There was a shallow, nearly filled in pond near the old tree.  Things had changed over a couple hundred years, but the layout was distinct enough that Cogsworth recognized the landmark.

“This was the knoll behind the cottage.”

He and Antoine looked down.  The forest below them looked like any other valley in the Black Forest.  No trace of a path.  No trace of a clearing.  But Cogsworth recognized the knoll and he knew below them was where, at one point long ago, stood he and his husband’s cottage.

“But I still don’t smell Forte.”

“Let’s at least go to the site of the cottage.”

Cogsworth took another step.  He suddenly felt his foot fall down a good few more inches than he was expecting.  Stopping himself, he looked down.  There was a large hole in front of him, almost filled in with dirt, leaf litter and grass, but the shape and size of it was very distinct.  It nearly stopped his heart when he realized what he put one foot into.

“Monsieur?” Antoine whimpered, noticing the older man freeze up, “What is it?”

“... my grave.”

“We should turn back, sir!  It’s not fair to upset yourself like this!”

#ic #event: house husband #lookit what you're putting my boy through #side character: cogsworth #side character: fife #tw: existentialism #tw: death

[friendball-irl]

😴😨 //and for blackthorn, but it's not her sending it - random nosey legion members be like

I listen attentively as she answers my questions about her world and what she knows about mine. It's an incredible experience, and comforting in a way.

-

She tells me something.

I can't make it out, but it's enough to break me.

I scream.

#pokemon irl #in character #ask #game ask #tw: existentialism