Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts as all great things that may or may not make your therapy group hate you. Way too late on a school night for Quackity to be awake on his phone.

It happens sometime in the midst of his mindless scrolling on instagram between a screenshot of a 2018 tumbler post and a photo of one of his elementary school friends, the ad appears. The capital T and capital A, The Ad

It’s the best thing that ever happened to his sleep deprived mind, a random news article written by an underpaid millennial. An ad for an article titled: 101 reasons to stay alive.

It’s bullshit, look he knows it alright but it’s funny and he can almost picture the pain it will bring when he produces the article at group tomorrow afternoon. So he does what anyone else would do. He saves the article and shuts his phone off because quite frankly nothing else can compare to this article. After that he promptly passes the fuck out dreading the morning already

~~~

Las Nevadas group therapy for suicidal teen boys is held in the dingy beige basement of some church Quackity couldn’t tell you the name of. When he had arrived earlier there had been six metal folding chairs pulled out of the spider web covered storage closet and set in a small circle on the concrete floor.

Whatever god this church worships must not have X-ray vision or he would have long since smited the building for it’s sad excuse of a basement rec room. Equipped with two fluorescent lights, the storage closet, and one of those little plastic baby basketball hoops, the basement has the opposite effect Quackity thinks his therapist is going for. If anything it makes him want to try and kill himself again if it could get him out of this hell hole, ha, get it hell hole because he’s in the church. It’s funny.

Quackity was the last one to get there after his mom had dropped him off gaining him a ‘I’m not mad just disappointed’ look from Bad.

Bad was the group therapist for the Las Nevadas group. He was in his mid twenties with a not-husband named Skeppy and one of those little white crusty dogs named rat, he had a weird thing about swearing and so far Quackity feels no less suicidal than when he was forcibly put into group four months ago.

The other members of the group barely spared him a glance, except for Charlie who always greets everyone with a much too enthusiastic wave.

After that, Bad forces everyone through the basic introduction, the same one they’ve been doing weekly since group started. Say your name, how you feel, one good thing about this week, and one bad thing this week.

In Quackity’s personal and very correct opinion it’s lame and useless they all lie anyways. No one just wants to come out and say they want to die or they relapsed or whatever else, much less to a room of five people who are forced to be here and Bad.

Fundy starts because he's on Bad’s right side, Fundy’s got orange hair with weird streaks of white in them, he’s pale as death with a Dutch accent and he’s just about the nerdiest person ever.

“I’m Fundy. I feel bored, one good thing this week is that…” he trails off “I’m staying at Phil’s this week. That’s okay I guess, my bad thing is that I’m here.” Fundys has a weird complicated family dynamic; his mom only has partial custody of him and no custody of his older brother who lives with his foster dad, Phil. Phil also shares partial custody of fundy and has full custody of his three other kids. Overall it makes most of Fundy’s introductions about his weird ass family.

Bad offers a tight lipped smile, his light brown hair covering half his face and his weird square therapist glasses. “Hi fundy I’m glad you're happy to stay with Phil. Maybe don’t think of group as a bad thing though. It will make everything go a lot smoother for us all.”

Bad raises a hand to Sam who’s a head taller than fundy making them look like a rather odd pair sitting next to each other. Especially since they're both pale as death with Sam’s gaudy olive green dyed hair and Fundy’s vibrant orange hair.

Sam frowns blowing an overgrown green hair out of his face. He looks bored too, his brown eyes focused on where he’s picking a scab off his finger, his freckled face conveying no emotion. Sam’s got a pair of red heading aids half hidden by his hair which Quackity would consider a mullet style if mullets weren’t do god damn ugly, ironically the hairstyle is one of the few notable things about Sam.

Sam frowns after a stare off with Bad he relents “I’m Sam I’m I don’t know here I guess. One good thing this week is I got the job I interviewed for. One bad thing is schools being, you know, school.”

“I’m glad you got the job. At the Applebees right?” Bad asks, jotting a note on his clipboard. Because of course he has a clipboard. He hums when Sam nods “that’s good. We’ll circle back to that school thing. Alright Charlie your turn.”

Charlie is a white boy of average height with brown hair and a dorky pair of black rectangular glasses and he wears the same t-shirt with some video game joke on it every thursday. He seems to be in a constant state of sugar high every time he talks.

“I’m Charlie! I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that Schlatt got out of juvie so we can hangout more. One bad thing is that Schlatt was in juvenile at all, drugs are bad kids.”
Charlie ends his speech with an over exaggerated wink and finger guns that has Foolish rolling his eyes beside Quackity.

“I’m glad you're doing okay Charlie, drugs are bad. I'm so happy to hear you say that!” Bad says with a sort of cheer that has to be fake “alright Foolish, your turn.”

Foolish nods looking about as happy to be put on the spot as a man who was just sentenced to death. Which is a perfectly fair reaction. Because like who wants to; one fail at killing themselves, two be sent to mandatory group therapy, then three share about how you feel and how your week was. It’s stupid and Quackity wishes Bad would just hurry up and say he was cured of all mental illness or whatever group was supposed to do for him.

“I’m Foolish, I’m bored. A good thing about my week was… I don’t know, it’s spaghetti for dinner tonight. The bad thing is that Dream ran away again.” Foolish had many interesting things about him, aside from being the tallest person Quackity has ever met at 6’7, being on the school’s football team, and failing to kill himself. But on top of all that he was also a foster kid currently staying in a house with another kid, Dream who was a flight risk, and Tubbo his foster mom’s biological nephew.

“Spaghetti is pretty good.” Bad says nodding as he takes another note on his clipboard. “Thank you for sharing Foolish, and finally Quackity.”

Quackity has to force the smile off of his face tugging his LAFD beanie a little lower down on his head. “I’m Quackity as I’m sure you already know.”

Charlie gave him a laugh for that one, probably out of pity but whatever.

“I’m excited because I’m switching it up. One bad thing about my week was the three hours of biology homework I’ve had in total, however.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “The good thing about my week is this.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with Face ID and brandishing the ‘101: reasons to stay alive’ article like it’s the final piece of evidence in a very intense court case.

“What’s that Quackity?” Bad asks, trying to squint at Quackity’s phone screen from where he’s holding it.

“This” Quackity says with a flourish “is the best news article ever written. I think it really helps with the ideas you're trying to push here.”

The reaction once everyone finally reads the article's title is both instant and hilarious. Fundy let’s put a long groan putting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. Sam’s fingers twitch like he’s resisting the urge to grab Quackity’s phone out of his hands. Foolish rolls his eyes. Charlie grins nodding his head “what a cool article Quackity.” Bad chimes his agreement to Charlie.

This is the exact response Quackity wanted and expected because what better to bring to a group of suicidal teen boys who spend a day out of their week every week listing to someone who barely knows them and much less understands them tell them exactly why they shouldn’t feel the way they do. It’s funny in the same sick twisted way that it’s funny that his barely there mother was the one to find Quackity on the floor after his attempt.

It’s funny in the way it’s not funny at all but if Quackity has to be here and he is going to be miserable the entire time he’s going to take the others down with him. Even if they are already miserable, Quackity will make it worse, because what better way to get rid of the angry sort of empty feeling in his chest than to take the anger out on someone else. Even if it’s not their fault, even if it’s no one’s fault really.

“This is a great article Quackity, would you mind sending that to me so I can look it over?” Bad asks, sounding way too genuine. “I think that would be a great way to spice up group, maybe go through the list and do one a week.” Bad must just be thinking out loud but Quackity can feel dread building up in his stomach. This was meant to be a bit to make the others have a reaction, not something Bad genuinely liked or wanted to do. Hell Quackity didn’t even actually read the article.

After he realizes he’s spent too long just looking at bad and not answering him he forces out a choked “yeah sure.” Which makes Bad nod and jot something down on this clipboard.

So Quackity does send it to him regretting all his life choices up to this point the entire time he does and tuning out Bad’s lecture on making the best of school which both Sam and Fundy roll their eyes at.

~~~

new message from Bad (Therapist) to you, +1 852-862-9372, +1 852-826-9828, +1 852-736-9188, +1 852-827-0018
I’ve gone over the list Quackity sent me and I think it’s a GREAT idea that I’m sure you muffinheads will love it. Starting next week we’ll make our way through the list. One thing a week.

+1 852-862-9372 has left the group

Bad (Therapist):
Please stay in the group Sam. This will be a good way for you all to get to know each other better :)

+1 852-862-9372:
Great

Bad (Therapist):
A good community is a great step in getting better. Having people you trust to fall back on does wonders! O-o

Contact added +1 852-862-9372 to phone under nickname: Sam

+1 852-826-9828:
So who’s who?

+1 852-736-9188:
Foolish

+1 852-826-9828:
The other one is Charlie then

Bad (Therapist):
Yes good detective work Fundy 0-O

Contact added +1 852-736-9188 to phone under nickname: Foolish

Contact added +1 852-826-9828 to phone under nickname: Fundy

Contact added +1 852-827-0018 to phone under nickname: Charlie

Quackity groans into his pillow, muting the group Badput him in and tossing his phone on the other side of his bed. This went so wrong so fast. Honestly who could have seen this coming not Quackity or he never would have let his sleep deprived mind convince him it was a good idea.

It seems his Thursdays are only going to get worse from here on out and Quackity personally is not looking forward to it. He’s never been a fan of facing the consequences of his own actions.

Chapter Text

It is somehow both much too early in the morning and much too late in the day for Fundy to be dealing with this. This of course being the great cosmic this. Or maybe more specifically his eighth period honors biology teacher. The old man can’t seem for the life of him to remember Fundy’s name, constantly ‘accidentally’ slipping up and calling him Sally. Sally isn’t even his fucking dead name it’s his mothers name. Because of this Fundy is all but counting the seconds with the little red hand in the clock tuning out the lesson on organized cell systems.

Really Fundy’s mood is only going to get worse because it’s Thursday. Which means not only does he have to sit through group and live in the knowledge of what he tried and failed to do but he also has to pretend to care about getting better. Fundy doesn’t want to get better, getting better is admitting defeat, it’s admitting he’s just as bad as Wilbur.

The phone in his hoodie pocket buzzes and Fundy pulls it out expertly ignoring the call of “Sally no phones in my class” and wishing he could blow his teacher up with his mind

Bad:
Don’t forget to wear tennis shoes today! The list says we need to remember nature is beautiful. How better than a hike 0n0

Foolish:
K.

Fundy clicks his phone off not bothering to respond and goes back to trying to explode his teacher with his mind. Adding Quackity to the list of people to explode as well if this ever works. After all this is entirely Quackity’s fault.

~~~

Wilbur’s car is idling from its spot in the school's student lot. Fundy can see it from where he’s waiting for their mom. Hopefully Fundy thinks, he leaves before she gets here, dealing with the tense awkward small talk of two people who should have known each other better than this is not really how Fundy wants to spend his Thursday.

Really if Fundy got to pick how he spent his Thursday it’d look completely different than today, no going to school, no heading home to his moms too empty apartment, and most importantly no group. Of course if Fundy got to choose how things went he would have been born right, then there would have been no attempt, then things would be better.

Wilbur’s car leaves suddenly kicking into gear. Just in time for Fundy’s moms beat up blue Toyota Corolla to pull into the pick up line. There are many things that could be said about Sally Salmon more bad then good sure but Fundy’s mom is definitely something.

With a thick head of red hair mixed with streaks of white, the same British accent Wilbur has, a pair of honey brown eyes and a crap ton of freckles. Add to that the fact that she’s 5’3” on a good day, and has a sleeve of tattoos running down either arm, she doesn’t particularly look like an ex-junkie who lost custody of her oldest son and only had partial custody of her youngest.

That’s not to say that Fundy’s mom is a bad person because she’s not. There is no reality where Fundy’s mom is a really truly bad person.
Instead she just did a handful of bad things. Because really do bad people call their sons' teachers the C-word after they misgender him in middle school? Do bad people fight so hard for their sons back?

Maybe Fundy’s too forgiving or naïve, but anymore Sally seems like the only family he has, what with this great invisible barrier between Fundy and Phil’s entire family.

“I’m dropping you off straight at Las Nevadas today.” Are the first words out of Sally’s mouth as Fundy gets into her car putting his book bag between his feet. “Oh! Bad also sent a text saying you lot are going on a hike today. So you’re wearing tennis shoes, yea?”

Fundy sneaks a glance at his worn out Reeboks. “Yeah I’ve got sneakers on. Why are you dropping me off so early?”

“A client called at the last minute and wanted her nails done for a wedding. She offered to pay me double. So it will be a bit awkward for you but money is money.” She laughs a bit pulling out of the pick up line.

“Great one on one time with Bad for an hour before everyone arrives. If he’s even there that is. Fingers crossed he’s not.” Fundy drawls out sarcastically.

“Maybe he’ll fix you in that hour. He should be there anyway, I told him what was happening.”

“I don’t need a babysitter mom.” Fundy whines.

Sally ignores him, continuing on “how was class today?”

“Fine class. You know.” He says leaving out the bit about how school is hell and half the teachers and students barely have the human decency to use his name.

The rest of the car ride is spent listening to Prince sing through the shitty radio, his voice glitching out at random intervals. It is almost peaceful.

That is of course up until Sally pulls to a stop in front of the brick church where Bad is already standing.

“Alright have fun.” Sally drawls

“Hey Fundy!” Bad call out waving at him “how was your day today?”

“Fine” he says because saying I spent most of my day contemplating homicide is probably not the best thing to tell your therapist.

“I'm glad to hear it, are you excited for our hike? I think reconnecting with the breath of nature and life all around us will really help you guys feel a bit better.” Bad says smiling at Fundy pleasantly

“Sure.” Because what is he supposed to say, I would rather die? That’s not gonna fly over well.

The next hour is spent awkwardly standing in front of the church while Fundy plays solitaire on his phone and Bad texts someone, probably Skeppy. As much as bad likes to say they are ‘just roommates', Fundy knows the truth. After all it takes one to know one.

A car pulls up, well car is putting it nicely. It’s a cherry red beetle car with the back absolutely covered in bumper stickers. Fundy’s seen the car in the school's student lot before but he couldn’t tell you who drove it.

Which is why it’s so surprising when the passenger door opens and Sam walks out. Shouting out “Bye Ponkie, thanks for the ride.” Over his shoulder.

Now Fundy’s usually the second one to arrive to group just after Charlie, and usually he’s in the basement by the time the others arrive so he’s never seen Sam’s ride. But this is by no means what he expected.

“Your early Sam!” Bad says “were you excited to get here?” Bad’s definitely reaching and he seems to know it too by the confused face he’s making.

“I’m exactly on time today. It seems everyone else was just not excited.” Sam says walking over close enough that he’s within talking distance but not close enough that it looks like he’s excited to talk to them.

After that the others start to slowly trickle in, Foolish and Quackity are dropped off one after another and Charlie parks his car before joining them. Until all of them are just standing there awkwardly.

Bad claps his hands suddenly making Fundy jump a bit “alright everyone let's get this show on the road. Luckily there’s a small trail just behind the church. It’s just a two mile loop but I think it’ll be fun.” His voice is overly cheerful as he talks.

No one says anything as they walk behind the church reaching the small run down graveyard, then reaching a small outcrop of pine and oak trees that Fundy’s never paid any mind to before.

The trail starts at the edge of the small forest and it is clearly man made, but it’s also clearly rarely used with grass and wildflowers starting to grow on the dirt path.

Through gaps in the green leaves and the branches bits of sun are starting to peek through.

Because fall is just barely starting the sun won’t set for another three hours or so and only a handful of leaves have started to turn yellow.

All of that paired with the warm breeze it’s almost pleasant, or it would be if Bad hadn’t started off his ‘look at life’s beauty and think of what you could lose’ speil

“Look at the beauty around us,” Bad says, holding his arms out and doing a little spin.

Behind Fundy Quackity grumbles something that sounds alot like ‘who cares.’

It's almost enough to make Fundy want to turn around and ask Quakity what’s up his ass because he's the whole reason they are in this mess anyways. The least he could do is try to make the best they could out of it.

Oh

Oh, well that makes Fundy a bit of a hypocrite doesn’t it.

He’s been miserable since he got dropped off and now he's shaming Quackity for being the same way.

Well it's a bit different because again Quackity got them into this mess but still Fundy Could do a bit to stop being a hypocrite he supposes.

By the time Fundy is pulled out of his thoughts by a rabbit scurrying across the trail in front of Foolish making the other jump, Bad has finished with his whole therapist bit.

Which Fundy quickly realizes is almost worse than him talking because suddenly they are just six people walking in dead silence through a trail wallowing in their own misery for at least 15 minutes.

It’s pathetic, and personally Fundy thinks it’s probably the exact opposite of what Bad was going for. Hell he probably wants them to take initiative and talk to each other.

Finally Charlie breaks the ice. Rather awkwardly asking “So, opinions on bees?” With a strained sort of chuckle after

Foolish barks out a laugh seemingly started by the strange topic shift. ”Those guys are pretty cool.” He says with a laugh auditable in his voice.

Vaguely Fundy thinks that if he were a bit better at discerning peoples tone and what they meant when they said things, he wouldn’t have to wonder if Foolish is doing the asshole football player thing where he makes fun of others, or if he's genuinely engaging in conversation.

“They’re like crows, yknow?” Quackity adds “they can remember faces” that’s actually pretty cool.

“There’s a bunch of bees around us right now.” Bad says pointing to a clump of wildflowers as he leads them closer to the end of the trail.

“I bet it would be cool to be a beekeeper.” Charlie says.

The next 15 minutes are spent listening to Charlie talk about his hypothetical beekeeping plans with a few casual chimes in form Bad and Foolish.

Surprisingly enough it almost makes the rest of their walk bearable. Plus the trees and wildflowers are nice to look at.

“Here we are.” Bad says as they reach the edge of the woods again. What’d you guys think? Was this a good session or what?” It’s rhetorical, they all know it too because none of them answer.

“Heck we even got done early. I hope you muffinheads had fun today.” Bad says, offering them all smiles.

After two minutes of silence that Fundy counts out in his head , he decides to take pity on Bad. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He offers. “It was cool to talk about bees instead of why we shouldn’t want to kill ourselves.”

Sam nods his head from where he's typing on his phone. “Yea Fundy’s right it was tolaratable today.” He says briefly making eye contact with Fundy.

“Well if you muffinheads talked to each other more instead of making me lead all of the conversations it’d be like this all the time.” Bad wags a finger at him, like genuinely wags a finger as if he's some sort of angry librarian.

It’s almost a nice moment on the blacktop of the church's parking lots, with birds chirping and warm breeze, paired with a mutual sort of understanding between all of them. That is of course until Quackity opens his mouth.

“No hate Bad but none of us have anything in common, and heck I don’t think we even like each other so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” He says with a smug sort of air around him.

Bad opens his mouth to respond only to be cut off by the horn of Sally’s car.

The horn makes all of them jump from their spots in a semi-circle on the asphalt.

Fundy could stay to hear what Bad has to say, see if it's that life changing piece of advice that would make Fundy not want to die, that would make Fundy not hate his body.

But he didn't. Instead he opens the passenger door of his mothers car and gets in without looking back.

As they drive back to Sally’s apartment with the windows down Sally gossips about her client and how her nails did not go with her dress at all, but the client gets what the client wants.

As they drive home Fundy wonders why his chest feels hollow.

~~~

It’s better to go home to Sally’s apartment than it is to go home to Phils house.

Sallys apartment may not have a working A/C, It may be simultaneously to small for the two of them with one bedroom that has a twin bed shoved to the wall on either side of it, and much to big for the two of them with the ghost of Fundy's father and brother all but haunting the apartment.

But it's not Phils house where Fundy interrupts their photo of a perfect family, where his ghost of a brother is still alive but wants nothing to do with him, where Phil tries to care but can reach out, where his other children barely acknowledge Fundy.

Sallys apartment walls may be so thin that more often than not Fundy falls asleep to the sounds of her neighbors having shouting matches, but it's not Phil’s house where he is a doll from a set that doesn’t match all the others.

Wilbur may have been made of the same stuff Fundy is but he's always been good at acting. Acting like he hates their mother who’s trying so hard to get better. Acting like things are great at Phil’s. Acting like Fundy is an idiot for not wanting Phil to have full custody.

The funny thing is though it’s always either Sally’s apartment or Phil's house. None of it is Fundy’s.

Fundy doesn't belong in anywhere in any of those places.

~~~

Bad:
Next week we are going to meet on Thursday morning to watch the sunrise :) for number 2; sunrises are beautiful

Sam:
I’ve got school Thursday?

Quackity:
I don’t want to get up that early

Bad:
Too bad! I’ve talked with parents and it’s the day that works best with everyone

Charlie:
Bad really said too bad! don't care! UwU

Quackity:
If you ever send an UwU again Charlie I’m going to dox you
This is so stupid
Why are we doing this

Foolish:
Sounds good Bad

Bad:
Thanks Foolish at least one of you muffinheads agree with me

Fundy’s phone buzzes in his hand. Quickly switching to the new chat Fundy looks to see who texted him.

You have been added to: Group therapy hate club

Sam:
Hey Quackity! If you're going to bitch don’t do it where Bad can see and do it in a chat I can mute. Thanks

Foolish:
Since when are you so mean Sam??

Sam:
Therapy is only making me worse

Quackity:
Duck you sam I’m right anyways non of us even want to go much less that easly
*fuck
**none
***early

Charlie:
Someone was distracted

Foolish:
I agree with Quackity but it’s not Bad’s fault yk

Quackity:
Hush football boy

Foolish:
Changed my mind I hate you group is great
I have other personality traits beside football

Sam has silenced chat notifications

Fundy:
Well

You have silenced chat notifications

Well Fundy’s at least glad he’s not the only one who is upset with Quackity for getting them into this. After all, group sucked but this is almost worse.

Fundy sighs, focusing back on his biology work, if all else he’s going to pass biology just to spite that transphobic old bastard. Because spite is man’s greatest motivator, and Fundy is nothing if not a man.

No matter what anyone else has to say.

Chapter Text

You could put a loaded gun to Sam’s head and ask him if he wanted to spend his Thursday morning before school watching the sun rise, and he’d probably tell you to just pull the trigger.

That dosent even have anything to do with being suicidal that’s just Sam straight up hating this idea. Like really. Watching the sun rise? How is that going to make him not a selfish bastard who wants to die?

Sure because it’s slowly beginning to transition into fall the sun doesn't rise until around 7 but still, that means Sam has to be up and ready by 6:30 in the goddamn morning, then proceed to wake his innocent mother up to drive him. Nothing about that sounds appealing.

Sam’s mom puts up with more than enough already ignoring the fact that she has to drive her 16 year old son around everywhere because selfishly he crashed his car into a tree in an attempt to end his life.

No on top of all that she also has to deal with her recent marriage to Kevin and slowly integrating her family with his. Though thankfully it’s only a ten minute walk away from their old house and no jobs or schools had to be switched.

Though Fran Awe is of course the strongest person Sam’s met in probably his entire life.

A daughter to her first generation Japanese immigrant mother and her Jewish father. She was born Deaf and was given cochlear implants by her mother in an attempt to make her more ‘normal’.

Thus taking away her right to choose if she was Deaf or deaf, whether she saw her Deafness as a strength which she celebrated or if she chose on her own accord to get implants later on in life when she could make that choice. This means she was for most of her life removed from her own culture and language.

If that wasn’t enough she got pregnant at 18 right before getting into university and proceeded to go to college and raise Sam on her own.

So yes Sam tends to feel a little bad for being so selfish in the choices he’s made. The choices that mean at 6:24 am he’s standing awkwardly outside of her bedroom door in the dark waiting to knock.

When he finally dose at 6:25, giving her that extra minute of sleep, the door opens, revealing his mother in all her glory.

A short bob of dark hair similar to Sam’s Nan but with the Jewish curls of his grandfather. Fran also has her fathers noise and pale skin, but her mothers dark almond shaped eyes with a mole under her right one.

And currently Farm looks like she regrets all the work she put into being a single mom, shooting Sam a not quite glare.

“I want words with this quote unquote therapist, waking up this early cannot be good for anyone's mental health.” She says before leaning up to kiss Sam on the cheek. “Let’s go before we wake Kevin, wait in the car for me? “

Sam does in fact wait in the car pulling his phone out as he does, more out of a morbid curiosity to see how much their others are complaining rather than any real reason.

Group therapy hate club

Charlie:
I’m going to fight the sun it’s too early

Fundy:
Me and the random old ladies on the public bus cheering you on
I think that’s what their complaint abt anyways it’s not in English.

Quackity:
Kinda racist you only know English Fundy :/

Fundy:
I know Dutch!! I’m literally Dutch

Foolish:
Slander in the press.

Quackity:
Wow gang up on the one that isn’t white

Charlie:
Quackity plsea

Sam:
Looks like we’re all excited

Quackity:
Kys pls

Foolish:
Idk about you guys but that’s what got me watching the fuckibg sunrise b4 school anyways

Fundy:
Please just type out before
At least the church is close to school

Charlie:
Thought bad was driving us to school in his mom van?

The driver's side door opens and Sam’s mom gets in. “Who are you texting? Ponk? Tell them I said hi.”

“Sure will do.” Sam says like a liar because if he even hints at willingly talking to any from group his mother will most certainly get the wrong idea. The idea that Sam could actually tolerate any of them.

~~~

The field beside the church is a small, almost pathetic lot with too tall grass and a perfect view of the rundown graveyard.

By the time Sam’s mom drops him off with his school bag and a shout of ‘have fun’ Bad and Quackity are already sitting on the field.

Sam sits crossed legged on Bad’s other side turning to face the sun.

It’s just started to rise over the doctor's office across the street, a burning bright yellow semi-circle. Just starting to create streaks of orange and red across the fading dark blue of the sky.

“Glad you came, Sam, how was your morning?” Bad asks.

“Good, spent most of yesterday finally unpacking the rest of my room.” It is base level what Sam tells him. But it’s enough to get Bad off of his back and lead the three of them into an uncomfortable silence.

One that only gets broken when Charlie arrives giving each of them an all too hello. Before dramatically throwing himself onto the grass beside an unamused Quackity.

“It’s so early! Cmon Bad! It’s much too early to be awake.” Charlie gripes waving his arms around in the air.

“I’ll explain how this connects when everyone gets here Charlie just be patient” Bad laughs shaking his head.

It takes another ten minutes of the sun slowly creeping up before everyone arrives and joins their semi circle on the grass looking at the sunrise.

Finally and Bad starts talking about the whole point of them waking up so early, his Therapist speech.

Groups different now with the new format instead of Bad forcing awkward stilted answers to his questions out of him he instead monologues at them. Talking on about why he thinks it will help before leaving them in the quiet unless one of them chooses to talk.

“As Anthony Hicks says ‘the secret to a good morning is to watch the sunrise with an open heart. That’s what we are doing. A sunrise is an impressive sight. They are beautiful but they also give us new hope.” Bad says pointing at the sun.

“Sunrises are traditionally signs of new beginnings. That’s what I want for each of you. A new beginning, a new form of hope and joy. I want you to wake up each day and be happy to be awake.” Bad says his voice strangely honest.
“I think if you watch the sun rise with an open heart and allow yourself to feel openly, you will feel better. Not fixed but better. And isn’t that what we are working towards?”

Silence follows Bad’s statement as the six of them turn their heads towards the sunrise.

Watching the sun light its way with red and pinks. Turning the clouds into an array of cotton candy colors.

And Sam watches.

And he thinks.

And nothing happens.

There is no big change of heart following Bad’s words, the selfish weight in Sam’s chest. The one he has harbored for so long still sits heavy.

But it’s a nice view, at least it’s nice to watch the sunrise, to not be so impossibly alone.

They don’t talk for the rest of their early morning session sitting in the silent field. Watching the sun rise and the clouds drift.

Then clapping his hand with a look on his face that might be disappointment at their lack of conversation Bad announces that “sessions over. Load up into my van so I can drop you muffinheads off.”

~~~

Bad drives a silver minivan because of course he does. It matches every aspect of his personality.

Just like how when he drops them off in the school's drop off lane he tells them to have a good day and make the right choices.

It’s just a very Bad thing to do.

Just like it’s a very the rest of them thing to do to quickly go their separate ways without talking. Wanting to pretend they didn’t have to go to group. Happy to leave the company of the others.

Sam all but beelines told his first period AP world history class going as quick as he can without being stopped for running in the schools linoleum halls.

After that it’s three more full periods that Sam spends taking notes, discreetly sending Ponk random texts, and only talking when spoken too. All leading up to fourth period Spanish 3.

Sam’s sneakers squeak against the last linoleum tile before the carpet of the Spanish room as he walks in mumbling a hello to Mrs. Smith. The small white lady who went to Mexico once and decided she was capable of teaching Spanish. Or more like Spanglish but whatever.

Ponk’s already in her desk currently she’s wearing one of those flowy full length red skirts and a white tee shirt with the words ‘I lived in England for four years and all I got was this stupid t-shit.’ On it written in a ugly shade of blue comic sans text.

Ponk’s looked the same for the six years the two of them have been friends, with warm dark skin, bleached locks decorated with cool gold cuffs, a fancy bionic arm replacing their left arm, and a short stature.

Well a short physical stature, Ponk takes up a lot of space in other ways like talking loud and making their opinions known.

Currently that opinion is on the lesson plan on the board if the face they’re pulling is anything to go off of.

Once Sam sit down in his desk directly behind Ponk he starts to talk.

“Heeeyyyy Sammy.” She says turning around in her chair to face him, over exaggeratedly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Yes Ponky, what can I do for you?” Sam humors them.

“Why do you always think I want something stupid, maybe I’m just excited to see my best friend.” She huffs, swinging her Nike clad foot at Sam’s ankle.

“So you don’t want anything?” Sam says swing his foot to the right to avoid Ponk’s. He ends up hitting his ankle against his desk.

“No I do, I’ve got to start a rather large project for mixed media for this quarter, it’s partner work though..” he trails off. “And because of that I need my big scary guard dog to come with me in two weeks when we meet up.” She says, smiling sweetly at him.

The sweet smile is fake of course and Sam is well aware of it.

“Nah.” Sam says pulling his school iPad out.

“Please babe cmon, it's a big football player, what if I get hate crimed? Then it's in your hands. Plus we’re meeting AFTER you have group.” She says ignoring their teacher as she starts to talk.

“You calling me babe is why people think we’re dating.” Sam says purposely avoiding confirming or denying what Ponk wants.

Ponk rolls his eyes knowing Sam will bend to their will anyways. She turns around in her seat leaving Sam to dread third wheeling some art kids.

~~~

Ponk drives Sam home from school, and to school most days. Well most days since Sam crashed his car into a tree.

That means most days Sam has to wait in the student lot next to Ponk’s cherry red beetle.

Currently he’s reading the bumper stickers on the car that’s the bane of his existence, there’s about seventeen all increasingly cringe, such as;

The white ‘This driver doesn't believe in Helen Keller’ one with flames on the bottom of it.

And ‘I’ve got a big bick.’ in large text then smaller underneath ‘you that read wrong.’ And even smaller ‘you read that wrong too.’

Sam’s favorite ‘only gay cops pull me over.’

The one Sam got with the Las Nevadas group therapy logo on it.

And the one Sam got Ponk most recently showing the words ‘oi bruv ‘onk if you fancy me’ over the British flag.

Among many others. Sam’s current contemplation over whether or not one of the Ted Cruz ate my son bumper stickers would look weird or not is interrupted when Ponk finally approaches the car.

Not alone instead with one Foolish Gamers.

The same Foolish Gamers who Sam sat in a field with watching the sunrise this morning.

What. The. Fuck.

That makes no sense, they've all got an agreement outside of group. An agreement that means they don’t talk to each other.

“Sammy!” Ponk calls out walking over. “This is Foolish the guy in my art class I’ll be working with on the 29th.” She says using her prosthetic arm to wave at Foolish.

Selfishly Sam feels dread for the 29th build in his stomach.

“Great.”

Chapter Text

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Maybe that’s why Charlie tries so hard to mix it up.

So he doesnt go insane. Or anymore insane then he already is.

Because sure there is some subtle variation in his day to day life but days and weeks and months tend to blur together until they form a nauseating blur of hyper color.

He explained it to his sister once when she had asked him why he wasn’t talking as much.

She hadn’t got it and Charlie had gotten better at being loud even when he doesn't want to.

Instead of reaching out for help Charlie learned how to take up as much space as humanly possible to be noticed.

Even if it’s only ever as comedic relief and not a real living person.

It’s an easy role to fill. It'd be harder of course if there was anything about group that wasn’t inherently comical.

They're like a rainbow of jokes ripe for the picking.

With Fundy’s muted browns and oranges, constantly looking like a walking corpse and not quite there. It’s easy to joke about how quiet he is, about his vibrant hair.

Bad’s all sunny yellows and deep reds showing them only the bright bits. But forced to empathize with the dark ones.

Foolish is all layers of gold bright and shining looking perfect but hiding a tarnish of rust rotting from the inside out.

Sam’s green with a hundred different shades like he’s trying to blend into the background. Almost like he’s guilty for taking up space.

Quackity is deep blues covered by angry red. Trying to make them all see him as angry but occasionally showing a deep blue ocean of emotions of all kinds.

Personally, private Charlie thinks he must be a blank empty white. He’s nothing if not funny, constantly changing and molding himself to fit the views and whims of others.

The much too honest thought is forcibly shoved out of Charlie’s mind as he opens his phone.

Las Nevadas group therapy

Bad:
None of you muffinheads have allergies right?

Sam:
No?

Quackity:
Is that a question Sam
I don’t

Foolish:
No why????

Fundy:
Peanuts

Quackity:
You look like ur allergic to peanuts

Fundy:
Tf does that mean

Charlie:
Penicillin

Sam:
God I hope Bad isn’t giving us penicillin

Quackity:
I hope he is
He’d be cooler as a drug dealer

Charlie:
I don’t think that counts as a drug

Foolish:
Quackity’s right Fundy ngl

Fundy:
I’m not having a good time right now

Bad:
Just checking. I’m bringing chocolate today! Other then that it will be a normal session

Quackity:
Boo
Wait
The session not chocolate

~~~

The church is nothing special. It’s a church, probably Christian or Catholic one of those C religions. Charlie could care less honestly as he pulls his car into the mostly empty lot.

The only people still there are the priest and the secretary. Who are probably sleeping together in Charlie’s personal opinion

His opinion is backed up by the fact he opens a closet upstairs once looking for an extra folding chair and found them kissing.

Thankfully the parking lot is mostly empty and Charlie finds a spot quickly.

Too quick probably that just means he reaches the basement faster.

The basement is much fuller than the parking lot. Though something strange has happened in the order of spots.

Usually it goes Bad, Fundy, Sam, Charlie, Foolish, Quackity. It’s been that way since Charlie started group.

Now however as he waved to everyone with a smile and went to sit he noticed the change. An extra seat between Foolish and Sam as if the two are avoiding each other.

So now the order looked like Bad, Sam, Fundy, and an empty seat for Charlie, Foolish, Quackity.

It’s strange.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s not. Who knows. Certainly not Charlie

Charlie takes the empty seat finally noticing the chocolate bar sat on it. A full sized one score.

Bad smiles as he sits nodding his head. “Alright everyone go ahead and have some chocolate. Really savor it. Think about how it’s one of the many great parts of life.” He says smiling.

Because why not. Not like Bad could get any cheesier

Charlie unwraps the bar taking a bite.

It’s milk chocolate, nothing special by any means. Not to say it’s bad, it’s not, it's sweet and melty. It might be rich but honestly Charlie’s not quite sure what that means when it comes to food. Just that people call things rich a lot. It’s probably a good thing though.

The others are also eating it.

There’s this saying about how someone’s room is like the deepest you can see into their personality or something. Charlie is starting to think that might be true about chocolate eating too.

Bad broke off one of the squares from the bar and seems to be letting it melt in his mouth. Which is weird but sure.

Fundy’s bar is already half gone, eaten fast and certainly not savored.

Sam has yet to even unwrap his bar.

Foolish has somehow already finished his.

And Quackity has chocolate on the side of his mouth.

All of these things are probably very telling but Charlie isn’t going to take the time to dissect what they mean.

Finally after they all finish their chocolate bars does Bad talk. (he had finished last). “To finish up I think we should do our introductions.”

“I’ll start, I’m Bad, I'm feeling pretty good with that chocolate in my stomach. One bad thing about my week is that Sappy was sick but the good thing is that he got better!” Bad grins the same way he always does when he talks about Sapnap who might be another dog of his, or maybe his son. Bad isn’t that good of a story teller, and Charlie isn’t that good of a listener.

Sam makes a noise that might be a sigh. But Charlie doesn't feel bad, this is what you get for changing the unofficial seating chart. Bastard.

“I’m Sam, I feel stressed. I have a shit ton of homework I should be doing right now, that’s my bad thing. My good thing is that my car is finally back from the shop.” Sam says.

Bad winces at the mention of Sam’s car. It’s not exactly a secret why all of them are here, nor is it a secret how they did it. Or more correctly tried. Charlie snorts at his own joke earning a look from Fundy but he just smiles.

“Alright langue Sam. Fundy your turn.” Bad says switching his gaze to Fundy.

“My name's Fundy, I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that I beat my biology teacher. One bad thing is I have detention for it.” Fundy says grinning.

“You beat your teacher?” Quackity asks, finally tuning into their conversation.

“Only emotionally. I started calling him Miss since he seems to think me and my mother look so much alike. It made him cry.” Fundy grins even wider.

“… that’s nice, Fundy. How about you?” Bad nods his head at Charlie, he’s probably desperate to change the subject.

There was a lot he could say. It’s been a bad week because I only feel useful if I’m making others laugh. It’s been good because I didn’t think about killing myself. I feel nauseous because that chocolate bar was all I've eaten today.

He says none of that though because it’s just too much. Too true. Too honest. It makes Charlie feel sick to even imagine being that truthful.

“I’m Charlie. Y’all know that though.” Bad’s the only one who laughs. “I’m feeling good! I aced my science test even though I didn’t think I would. One bad thing though is that…” Charlie thinks carefully, he needs something honest enough to get bad off his back but not so honest it makes him weird. “I have no clue what is happening in math. Who’s good at math though!” Charlie laughs after smiling at Quackity across from him.

“That’s good Charlie, hopefully you get math soon. If not I’d look into tutoring.” Bad says.

“Foolish.” Foolish says like a Pokémon.

He’d make a good Pokémon Charlie thinks all big and strong. 10/10 would evolve.

That sounded gay. Charlie didn’t mean it like that.

“I’m alright. One good thing is that I scored five times last Friday at the game. One bad thing is that we did suicides at practice yesterday and I’m still sore.” Foolish says humming a bit at the end.

Quackity let’s put a rather loud snort which earns him a dirty look from bad.

“Oh cmon suicides, which we’re talking about because we all tried the other kind. It’s funny. Lighten up Bad.” Quackity rolls his eyes. “I’m Quackity and I’m bored. One good thing is that groups almost over. One bad thing is that my Tio and Tia are visiting soon and I’m dreading it.” Quackity grumbles.

Bad smiles pleasantly before giving a closing speech about how proud he is of each of them and how he hopes they feel well this week.

For the most part Charlie tunes it out again before getting ready to leave.

He has much more important things to think about such as his mom's lasagna she is making for dinner.

More importantly how he, his sister, and his dad are going to have to force it into their mouths.

All while they sit there pretending to enjoy each other’s company.

All while Charlie pretends not to notice the annoyed looks he earns after each joke he makes at the table.

~~~

Group therapy hate club

Fundy:
So chocolate huh

Quackity:
This isn’t a social chat
It’s for complaining only

Fundy:
Who died and made you dictator.

Quackity:
The British queen.

Sam:
It’s for whatever
Confused why Fundy’s making chit chat though

Fundy:
I’m bored sue me
Quackity is funny when mad

Charlie:
Sam while your here
Why’d you ruin our seating arrangements

Sam:
Why not

Charlie:
Freak

~~~

Charlie shuts his phone off, banging his head on his desk.

Homework is hard and quite frankly he feels unmotivated to do it.

I mean really how much will it affect his grade overall? It’s only the first quarter.

So he won’t. Besides, he's not known for being smart anyways.

He’s the funny friend after all, and he’s damn good at it.

Chapter Text

There are many things Foolish should be grateful for.

This is a fact, the sun rises, the grass is green, and despite all that has gone wrong in his life he has many things to be grateful for.

Such as;

Puffy
That in itself is a reason, after being passed around in foster care for as long as Foolish can remember he was sent to Puffy. She is a saint, fostering two teenage boys, her nephew, and in a roundabout sense all two of Dreams friends. She's nice in the way that she doesn't try to parent Foolish, she just tries to be there.

Therapy
While Foolish may not enjoy Las Nevadas group therapy he understands the fact he should be thankful for it, for some after their attempts there are no changes. For some it’s not an attempt but an ending

Art class
Foolish, contrary to popular belief genuinely enjoys art and isn't just taking it for an easy A. maybe that's why as he walks down the steps of Puffy’s house ignoring the calls of Dream, George, and Sapnap from the couch - he calls out to Puffy.

“I’m leaving now! I'll be meeting Ponk and their friend to work on our art project after group. No need to wait for me.”

“Are you having dinner at some point?” Puffy calls back from the kitchen in a worried voice, further proving how great she is.

Like worrying if Foolish eats that a pretty great thing to do as a foster parent. Though it’s probably just the bare minimum.

“We’re meeting at a restaurant and I will eat something there.” Foolish says tugging his shoes on and grabbing his backpack.

“Take a twenty for dinner.” Puffy says finally stepping into view with said twenty in her hands.

Foolish nods his thanks, opening the front door and getting ready to leave for the five minute walk to the Church. That is until there's a call from the living room.

“Have fun in group.” Dream crows sarcastically.

“Tell my dad I'm staying for dinner.” Sapnap adds.

Which is where he makes his mistake, the mistake of reminding Foolish Sapnap’s father is his therapist meaning Foolish could tell Bad just about anything. “I'll tell him you flunked your science test.” he calls out laughing.

Before Sapnap can respond, Foolish steps out the door and closes it behind him, before leaving twenty dollars richer.

~~~

The church smells of mold and the prayers of people who could probably care less.

On the way down to the basement Foolish passed the secretary and old white lady who reeked of cigarette smoke and cats. She had shot him a glare before returning to the game of candy crush on her phone.

Of course it’s candy crush. Really selling the vibe there lady.

“Hello Foolish from the football team.” Charlie calls out from his smiling.

“He's trying out a new greeting,'' Quackity explains. Most likely having seen Foolish’s baffled expression.

“Neat.” is all Foolish can offer in response before taking his seat.

Or almost taking his seat before his eyes catch on to the bright monstrosity of colorful fuzzy socks.

When he stops to look at them then looks around the room he notices that most of the others are holding their own pair of dollar store sin.

“That’s today's topic off the list!” Bad says happily apparently nothing Foolish’s dread.

He, thankfully, waits until Foolish is sitting holding the yellow fuzzy socks in his hands, before he starts his monologue.

“These are soft, comfortable and some of my personal favorite things.” Bad says holding up his own red pair. “I want you all to be comfortable as well, in both day to day life and talking with me. I want you to be okay being soft and open. And you know what all of you are some of my favorite things.” Bad says smiling.

“Now let’s do our introductions. I’m Bad and I’m happy. One good thing about my week is that I slept in until ten on Saturday. One bad thing is that I’m having a bit of writer's block on my new book. However I’m sure I’ll figure it out.” Bad smiles Turing to Sam nodding his head.

That’s something Foolish has noticed since the realization that the friend Ponk mentioned would be joining them was Sam. Sam’s just as keen on avoiding Foolish outside of group as Foolish is keen on avoiding him. A real win win.

“My name is Sam. I feel fine. One good thing is that Rosh Hashanah was earlier this week, and my mother and I celebrated that. One bad thing was that the rest of my family came over.” Sam says in an unenthusiastic tone.

“Rosh Hashanah, that’s the start of the Jewish new year. Happy late Rosh Hashanah to you. Why is it bad that your family was over?” Bad questions.

“My Nan’s pretty big on believing I’m disabled for the whole hard of hearing thing. Other than that she’s fine. Plus my auntie pitched a fit over my hair but whatever.” Sam says shrugging.

Bad hums a note before switching his focus to Fundy who is picking fuzz off of his orange sock.

“Fundy, I’m feeling okay I don’t know. One good thing is that I bought a new pair of sneakers, one bad thing is that I failed my biology test.” Fundy mumbles

“New sneakers are nice. Just try your best on your next test. I'm sure you’ll do fine. You’re very smart, Fundy.” Bad says writing something down.

Though vaguely Foolish wonders what the fuck he got out of that which was worth writing down.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie says taking initiative. “I’m happy because I bought this from the gas station today.” He shows off a pack of Pokémon cards “one bad thing is that I fought with my dad over my grades again.”

Bad nods “maybe you should mention how hard you’ve been working to your dad to see if he can see it from your point of view. Those are nice cards though Sapnap’s also a fan of those.”

Foolish opens his mouth to talk only to be cut off by Quackity.

“Can we open those?“ he asks.

“That is not the point right now, Quackity.” Bad sighs

“Okay okay. I’m Quackity. I'm doing fine. One good thing is I’m making Charlie open those cards. One bad thing is that you're stopping me.” He says.

There is a laugh somewhere to Foolish’s right but he pushes on so they can end this. “I’m Foolish I’m okay. One good thing is I’m going to dinner today with a friend from art class.” Not really a friend and Sam’s going to be there but whatever he can lie. Who gonna stop him? “One bad thing is that Dream had his obnoxious friends over.”

Bad opens his mouth like he wants to say something but is once agian cut off by Quackity

“Open it open it open it.” He says gesturing over at Charlie.

Charlie dose and they all spend the rest of group ooo-ing and ahh-ing over the cards he pulls.

They aren’t all that bad with an Inky, Squirtel, Shellos, Lumineon, panic mask, Rhyhorn, Mimikyu, and a Ditto.

~~~

After group ends Foolish and Sam end up walking together in an oppressive silence to the dinner Ponk insisted the meet at.

Vaguely Foolish reconsiders the life choices that led him to this.

~~~~

The dinner is quiet possibly someone who was “born in the wrong century”’s wet dream.

It’s got black and white linoleum tiles, electric blue walls with white accents, and a actual honest to god juke box in the corner.

Sam ignores all of that walking to a booth against the window and sitting down.

Ponk’s already there her sketch book open to a page covered in peoples faces.

The only one Foolish knows is Sam’s freckled and smiling face.

He’s smiling in the black and white graphite drawing. Foolish wonders if he’s every actually seen Sam smile.

But Ponk’s good at that, making people look happy in his art that is.

Ponk grins as Foolish sits in the booth across from them and Sam who has opened Ponk’s backpack and started filling out what looks like math homework.

“Hey Foosh, Sorry you had to walk with Sam but y’all were together anyways and my car can NOT fit all of us.” She laughs

Their red beetle most definitely could not have fit all three of them. Hell it might not have even fit Foolish in.

Foolish pulls his own sketch book out of his bag a reply on his tongue before Sam speaks.

“I could have simply not come.” He says

“What if he was homiphobic or racist, your supposed to be my support.” Ponk gripes.

Oh, oh no Ponk was scared of Foolis, shit

“I’m bi.” Foolish says more out of panic than anything else, as if being bi is engough to make Ponk not afraid of him.

Sam nods “cool.”

What an ally he is.

Ponk just grins mumbling something that might have been ‘slay’ before moving their attion back towards the project their supposed to be planning today.

“So we need at 10 foot long by 10 inches wide mural pice for the school done by December 8th. It need to somehow reflect both our art styles and school spirt. Ideas go.”

Foolish has an idea technically. One that should work in long pice like this with both their styles. But if Ponk is so worried that she asked Sam to be here maybe he would let them take the led, To be less intimidating?

“Well anything?” Ponk asks his feet bouncing against the back of her booth seat with ‘thunk thunks’.

Fuck it

“I was thinking uh maybe if you liked it we could do a semi realism face pice. Like include a bunch of busts of students.” Foolish forced out trying to appear normal and relaxed.

“That sounds cool! We could like do all sorts of people.” Ponk nods. “But I want to tweak one thing… maybe we could like connect the faces, like through cheeks and noses and stuff. Because I’ve see how good you are at movement so it would add like depth.” He says

And all the tension in Foolish’s body leaves him. He’s in his zone now talking about something he genuinely likes with someone he thinks is super fucking cool.

“Maybe we could like shade the connected parts in bright colors and do the background with like spray paint in graffiti style.” Foolish offers the image of what they would create forming in his mind.

“Yes! That’s great we have our idea, look at us only took like five minutes and we’re done.” Ponk laughs

It’s light and bubbly and infectious.

So infectious Foolish finds himself laughing as he goes to get out of the booth. Not willing to interrupt Sam and Ponk anymore.

“Where are you going?” Sam says looking up one of his eyebrows raising.

“Oh! I can’t image you guys wanted me to like…” Foolish trails off waving his hand around in an attempt to convey what he means.

“I invited you out didn’t I stupid?” Ponk asks though the way she pronounces it sounds more like stoopid it’s cute.

The thought is shoved from Foolish’s head. He’s going to become violently internally homophobic soon

“Oh yeah.” He offers laughing nervously.

“Yeah so sit down the waitress should take our orders soon and I want to hear all about your opinions on lemons.” Ponk announces with an authority that makes Foolish sit agian.

Sam goans “not this agian.” He says before looking at Foolish for what feels like the first time without any sort of negative emotion. “Run while you still can, the lemon talk just ends with fighting.”

“Not if you have a good opinion.” Ponk says wacking her hand against Sam’s arm.

“I like lemons.” Foolish offers hoping it’s the right thing to say because Ponk is apparently very opinionated on lemons.

“You’re so based Foolish. Your my new best friend now. Tell me about what you like about lemons.” Ponk says leaning over.

They do end up ordering and then eating some mediocre burgers but it’s worth it. Because for the first time since Foolich got placed with Puffy he thinks he’s made a friend.

A real friend not one of the guys on the football team he has to like. Or Dream and Tubbo who don’t count.

The thought makes him feel happier than all of the group sessions combined.

Chapter Text

At 2:32 pm on Sunday Quackity gets the text that explains why Thursday is going to suck

Bad (Therapist):
We are doing gift giving on Monday! Secret Santa style

Sam:
?

Foolish:
Sounds fun

Fundy:
Love the sarcasm Foolish

Foolish:
Die!

Bad (Therapist):
No!

Minutes after that Quackity gets a private text from bad with one simple word; Fundy.

~~~

Target is honestly the best place to get a gift for someone you know simultaneously too much and too little about.

Somehow Quackity convinces his mother to drive him there to get Fundy a gift.

Quackity’s Tia says that his mother is haunted, that’s why she acts they way she does. She’s haunted by some ghost only she can see. Fighting some invisible force.

Privately Quackity thinks his mother must be the ghost. Walking silently through the house. Never looking at Quackity or his father.

More often then not her seat at the dinner table is empty. As Quackity and his dad have another silent dinner. His mothers ghost sucking the sound from the room.

Quackity’s Tia says that when his mother found him dying in the bathroom she exchanged ne ghost for another.

The ghost that his mother was once fighting turned into the ghost of the son she could have lost.

As morbid as it seems it improves her, she’s more present, even if she’s not all there. She’s more willing to act human. To do things.

Things like take Quackity to Target on a Monday so he can search the isles for a gift for someone he could care less about.

Really all of this is his fault, he’s self aware alright but that dosent mean he’s going to be happy about it.

No he’s going to be bitter and shrewd about it.

Which leads him to the toy section of the local Target.

Technically he could get Fundy something practical a nice hoodie or an apple gift card, but where’s the fun in that?

No instead Quackity’s looking at those cat piano things and shitty Fortnite branded nerf guns.

Taking another step and casting a throw away glace at the next alse Quackity continues on passing the Barbie’s to the Soft toy section.

A bit of orange catches his eye.

Perfect a great way to make fun of Fundy for being ginger. Getting him something a god awful shade of orange.

Thinking he had spotted a pillow Quackity reaches past a stuffed Mario to grab the orange thing.

Only it’s not a thing, it’s a Minecraft fox.

Quackity takes a moment to think it over. Is a gag gift worth the twenty dollars that official Minecraft things cost.

Well Fundy does kind of give off furry vibes.

Yeah it’s definitely worth it to call him a furry.

Quackity leaves the Target with his head held high and an thinly veiled insult under his arm.

~~~

Thursday comes and goes as any school day does. Long and overstimulating. But for once Quackity is looking forward to group.

Not because he likes it but more because he wants to see what the others got for each other.

And to see Fundy’s reaction when Quackity calls him a furry.

The chair Quackity sits on in the church has a leg shorter than the other three. It’s the type of thing that makes him want to rip the hair out of his head.

Slowly over the weeks it has begun to grate on his nerves to the point that he wants to break the chair in half with his bare hands.

So when he sits down with a Target bag in hand and the chair leans back Quackity has to fight the scream building in his throat.

Bad just grins oblivious to Quackity’s growing rage.

“For today we are doing gift giving.” He says with fake joy. “So we’ll do introductions then give our gifts. After that we can just spend the rest of our time rembering that while you should not only live for others, others can be part of the reason you chose to live.”

“So we’re giving gifts because..” Fundy trails off.

“To show appreciation towards others.” Bad says his eye twitching.

Foolish snorts before ducking his head at the look that Bad gives him.

“Now for introductions, my name is Bad I feel happy. One good thing from this week is that I got dinner with an old collage friend. On bad thing from my week is that my car got rear ended at a stop sign.” Bad informs them apparently sick of their bullshit.

“I’m Sam I feel tired my families been over since last week more or less celebrating shit. So that’s good and bad I guess.” Sam says picking at the dog themed wrapping paper that around the box in his hands.

“Well it’s good that seeing your family isn’t entirely bad. Next week try and get two different things though.” Bad nods turning to Fundy.

“I’m Fundy I feel bad. One bad thing is that someone got my number so bigots are texting me now. One good thing is that I’m getting a new number.” Fundy fumes.

“Im so sorry about that Fundy. Maybe send those numbers to the principal. Also please send me your me number so I can change what informationI have for you.” Bad says writting something down.

“Should have just not told him.” Quackity jokes “so you can finally be free.”

Charlie laughs loud and bright before he starts his introduction. “I’m Charlie and I feel good. This week I started playing D and D with some of my friends and it’s looking so sick. One bad thing is that I ran into Sam at the synagogue that was akward.” Charlie says.

“You go to the same synagogue? Also that sounds fun it’s good to have an outlet Charlie.” Bad grins.

“Apparently. It’s like the only temple close to us so loads of people go. Me and my family don’t wander lots though so I guess I just never knew.” Charlie laughs while Sam nods his agreement.

“Foolish. I feel good. One good thing is that I’m getting dinner with Sam and Ponk agian tonight. One bad thing is that we lost last Fridays game.” Foolish says grinning

The statement throws Quackity for a loop though. Creating about a hundred questions. What in gods name is a Ponk? Since when are Sam and Foolish friends? Why would any of them care that the schools football team is bad?

However before he can ask any questions Bad beats him to it.

“You two are going to dinner?” He asks the tone of his voice suggesting that he thinks Foolish and Sam are setting some sort of trap.

“Technically him and Ponk are. She’s just my ride. So I end up third wheeling their nerd art dates.” Sam states.

“God I hope you would not be there if it was a date.” Foolish snarks but the grin on his face counterdicts his words.

What the fuck.

This is not how this goes. They aren’t friends that’s the only thing they agree on. They don’t like each other.

Quackity wonders why the changed the okay-ish thing they had going on.

He wonders what else is going to change.

And oh everyone’s staring at Quackity while he has this revalation he should probably do his introduction.

“I’m Quackity.” He chokes out. “I feel.. fine. One good thing this week is that I hung out with my mom a bit. One bad thing is that i have school tomorrow.”

The good thing was too honest and the bad thing falls from Quackity’s lips and hangs awkwardly in the air.

“That’s good Quackity.” Bad says “it’s always good to be close with your parents.”

And oh Bad missed the point entirely. Like a little kid chasing after a butterfly instead of the soccer ball it’s supposed to kick.

None the less Quackity nods his head and sinks lower into his chair in embarrassment.

Before he can will himself out of existence however Bad moves on.

“Gift time!” He says excitedly. “Everyone swap theirs with their person but don’t open the one you get yet I want to go around in a circle for it. Then explain why you got who you did what you did.”

Sam moves first awkwardly handing the wrapped box to Quackity. After that it’s a flurry of motion as people pass their things around. Wanting to be free of the imaged burden they carry.

Quackity can’t help but grin and he hands Fundy the target bag with the plastic handles tied into a knot so he can’t peek.

“Okay Sam open yours and whoever got you the gift will explain it.”

Sam opens the simple pink gift bag before pulling out a Lego creator three in one dinosaur build set. He raises a single eyebrow at Foolish after he pulls it out.

“I asked Ponk and they said you built like Legos and stuff..” Foolish trails off looking embarrassed “and it’s green like your hair!” He add looking proud of himself.

Sam smiles a small closed lipped thing. “Thanks I’ll have to build this at dinner tonight. Seems easy engough.”

Fundy’s next staring at Quackity’s bag like it personally wronged him.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Fundy to unknot the bag before he pulled out the stuffed fox. But when he dose he just stares at it before grinning.

He’s smiling at the gift Quackity got him to be a dick. What the fuck.

“I was just playing Minecraft earlier and foxes are my favorite animal. That’s freaky how you knew.” He says bringing a hand to pet the damn fox.

“I got it cause it’s an orange furry like you.” Quackity argues but he’s ignored.

Because of course he is. Of course the gift he got to be a gift is actually nice. Of course it now seems like Quackity is actually being nice. Warming up to the group.

Before he can get himself too worked up Charlie holds up the unwrapped bucket of green Target slime.

“I got it because it seemed like something you’d like.” Fundy says.

“I do like it.” Charlie says feverintly.

“I got Foolish his gift. It’s a pack of Pokémon cards because who dosent like those.” Charlie says pointing to the poorly newspaper wrapped flat rectangle in Foolish’s hand.

True to Charlie’s words when Foolish finally unwrapped the thing it’s exactly what Charlie said it would be.

What a surprise.

Quackity stares down at the little cartoon Labrador’s on the wrapping paper of the box Sam gave him.

He feels bad when he rips one of their faces in half. But when the papers gone it reveals a box with a red beenie in it.

A red beenie with gold thread forming a blocky smiley face on the front of it.

Something in Quackity’s chest warms as he runs a finger over the stitching.

“It’s not much, I had a friend of mine do the stitching but, well your other beanies a bit thread bare so.” Sam trails off

“I love it. Thank you.” And it’s true when Quackity says it.

For the first time in a while the spark in Quackity’s chest is not anger at everything and anything, instead it’s something like joy.

Because Sam gifted him something so simple.

It’s stupid.

It’s a good feeling.

And you know what if Quackity leaves the dingy church basement with a red beenie on his head rather than a blue one it’s no one’s business but his own.

Chapter Text

It starts like this.

“Phil and Kristin are planning on fostering another kid.” Wilbur says his eyes are glued to where Tommy’s playing Minecraft on the Xbox. He’s feigning nonchalance acting like this is a normal conversation topic.

Well two can play that game and most of what makes up Fundy is a hand-me-down from Wilbur anyways.

“That’s nice.” Fundy says feigning care.

“You know, you could save him the time and the rest of us the stress if you just switch to staying full time here.” Wilbur says all nonchalance is gone in it’s place of a smug sort of air.

Fundy wants to punch him because he’s acting
like he isn’t ruining Fundy’s life, like that isn’t the opposite of what he wants.

Because he can’t seem to understand that Fundy wants to stay with their mother. The woman who raised them. Who loves them.

Fundy tells him that in a much blunt and too sharp way. Using the silver tongue his brother passed on to him to wound Wilbur.

This of course just leads to a shouting match, though Fundy’s not sure which one of them started it.

He knows who ends it though because when the shouting gets too much and Fundy texts Sally he wants to leave, so he does. He storms out the door bag in hand and doesn't look back.

Because of that Fundy is in a bad mood Thursday the day after the fight. The day that Fundy got no sleep because he spent all night agonizing over every little thing the argument could have ruined.

Because he spent the night listing to Sally’s neighbors shout at each other through the wall.

His mood is made worse simply by Bad’s text at lunch

Bad:
I’ve got parent permission to take all of you costume shopping today :D

Quackity:
We are way to old to trick or treat Bad

Bad:
You can hand out candy in costume then. Or go to a party like the other kids your age.

Sam:
Every text Bad sends makes me think he’s getting more and more fed up with us

Bad:
Im driving you muffinheads to spirt Halloween so bring money to the church to meet up. :)

Charlie:
He’s not denying it

Foolish:
Because he can’t.

~~~

It starts like this Fundy has thirty dollars to his name and a hate that could rivial Severus Snape in the Terf.K Rowling universe.

Bad’s mom van is ideling in front of the church which means after leaving Sally’s car with a bye thrown over his shoulder Fundy gets right into Bad’s.

Quackity is already there shoved in the far back left seat. So Fundy slips into the middle row left seat in front of Quackity and behind Bad. The safest bet.

Or it would have been if Charlie didn’t have to ruin it. He skips right up and gets into the right seat in Fundy’s row. Grinning as if he’s done nothing wrong.

“Sup Fundy from Manburg apartments?” Charlie says, turning to face him.

And Fundy could be an ass but a voice that sounds like Wilbur’s mocks Fundy’s speech habits. And well it seems mean to do something he knows hurts.

“Not much Charlie.” He says turning to watch Sam and Foolish play a game of Rock Paper Scissors outside of the van.

The game was apparently to decide who sat up front with Bad because Sam, the loser, climbs into the passenger seat, while Foolish gets in next to Quackity

“So we’re are we going?” Foolish asks as Bad starts to drive, pulling out of the Church lot.

“The Spirit Halloween where the old Hobby Lobby was.” Bad says turning to the left.

“We’re doing this because… we’ll because it’s something fun. There’s no real therapeutic reason. It’s just fun to dress up.” Bad says grinning.

“Wow, no alternative reason.” Quackity drawls from behind Fundy.

“I think Bad’s just trying to make us celebrate holidays like normal people.” Foolish observers.

“That rat bastard.” Charlie says in a thick mobster voice. Which makes Fundy cackle, it’s an ugly noise.

“Language!” Bad shouts back at them.

Fundy spends the rest of the car ride listing to Quackity and Charlie compete to see who can make up the most creative swear without Bad shouting at them.

At some point Sam takes pity on Bad and starts a conversation about Bad’s not-husband and kid but that fizzles out when Sam can no longer hold his laughter in.

If Fundy was anyone else, who’s week had started any other way he’d almost say it’s peaceful.

It’s even better though when they pull into the old Hobby Lobby parking lot and see the Spirit Halloween sign.

Like go Halloween lovers kill the Bigots.

Bad stops the van but doesn't unlock it which none of them realize until Fundy himself goes to get out and can’t get the door handle to budge.

“Before I let you guys go wild I just wanted to say something.” Bad says turning around in his seat to face them.

“I think you all, whether you know it or not, you guys are improving. You're reaching out and I think you're honestly getting better. Which is why I wanted to do this, while it’s not on the list to get a costume I thought fit for Halloween time.” Bad says gesturing with a hand to the store in front of them.

“Because some parts of the list are technically not do-able for us, I thought we could do this for today, then next week we’ll go and look at Halloween decorations. Then on the 26th I was thinking we could do a Halloween movie marathon at the church.” He grins at them brightly ignoring the silence that has surrounded the van.

“It sounds fun!” Charlie says, nodding along. Which is all the promoting the rest of them need to start agreeing with Charlie and Bad.

“Alright muffinheads that's all I wanted. I promised a fun day and here it is. Come back in 40 minutes and I'll be here.” Bad says unlocking the doors as they all clamber out.

Walking into Spirit Halloween is always a sort of other worldly experience. That much is true when they walk in this time.

The automatic doors open and that’s all it takes to trigger the lines of animatronics on either side of the entryway.

A small child on a swing starts giggling at them and an old woman wags her finger warning them not to go into the woods.

There’s even a dancing skeleton that holds a bowl of candy in his hands that move up and down.

It’s amazing

What’s more is the rows and rows of shitty costumes in their plastic bags.

Most of them are overdone and boring, hell some are outright racist taking from cultures. Some aren’t too bad of course but Fundy wouldn’t have made a move to search at all if Quackity hadn’t wandered off. Leaving the rest of them to follow him.

“If we’re getting costumes we are going all out.” Quackity announces leading them through rows of costumes. He stops in front of a section of the store where customers are grouped by theme.

“What like a group costume?I’ve never had friends to do that with.” Foolish says and Fundy would almost think he sounds excited.

Secretly Fundy thinks that the last thing he needs is another costume to wear.

The costume of a devoted son with his mother. A perfectly fine teenager with Phil and Kristin. An angry little brother for Wilbur who thinks he’s unable to be anything else.

Unable to think for himself and know right from wrong.

“There are five of us, what type of group costume is that?” Sam asks, interrupting Fundy’s small existential crisis.

“Could you imagine Bad’s face though.” Fundy asks rhetorically.

Charlie laughs. “He’d lose it. We should do it and not tell him then act all like friendly.”

“Can’t wait to accidentally kill Bad via aneurysm.” Foolish says.

“We could do scooby doo.” Fundy suggests eyeing the costumes.

“Or the incredibles or the characters from inside out, like the emojis.” Charlie says pointing out each costume.

“You mean the fucking emotions.” Quackity asks cackling and shoving Charlie with his hand.

“I don’t really care either way but I’m not wearing a skirt.” Fundy says his metaphorical hackles raising as he waits for someone to argue.

“Either way it’s like two skirts and I’d wear one.” Quackity says, then adds on thoughtfully. “I’d rock one.”

“It sounds like you care.” Sam says squinting at the costume in front of him.

“I do, I want to be daphne. She is hot like me.” Quackity tosses invisible hair over his shoulder.

“Dibs on Fred.” Fundy interrupts.

“Charlie’s already got the glasses for Velma…” Foolish trails off shooting a glance at Charlie before doing a double take when he sees him already looking for a costume in his size.

“That leaves the dog and Shaggy” Sam says holding the two up to Foolish.

“Scooby’s just a onesie… I’ll take it.” Foolish says grinning.

The five of them separate temporarily to search for costumes in their size then check out. By the time their given forty minutes are up they are all holding bags in their hands and grinning rather suspiciously.

“So what’d you muffinheads get?” Bad asks as he starts to drive them back to the church.

“It’s a surprise.” Sam says snorting.

“Yeah you’ll see on movie night.” Quackity agrees.

“We’ll it’s nice to see you guys getting along.” Bad says taking their laughter for friendship rather than a mutual agreement.

Or maybe it is friendship.

Fundy’s never been good at telling the difference.

But none the less for the first time this week since his fight with Wilbur Fundy feels happy or if not happy at the very least content.

Chapter Text

Bad’s silver minivan is the bane of Sam's existence. No really it is. Nothing good has ever come out of that van.

Sam resents it even as he’s shoved in the very back row with his knee brushing Foolish’s.

Bad has greeted all of them in the church lot with a grin, one that became slightly more strained when Sam had gotten out of his truck, but whatever It hadn’t bothered Sam.

But nonetheless here he is sitting in the very back row of Bad’s van behind Charlie watching as they drive through some suburban neighborhood in an attempt to look at Halloween decorations.

Bad had started talking about how he thought it would be “fun” and a “nice change of pace to see other people living their lives normally.” Which only further cements Sam’s theory he feels no pity for them at all.

It’s almost funny. Actually scratch that, it's definitely funny. Bad makes most things funny though to be fair, even if he doesn’t mean too.

“Alright here we are!” Bad calls excitedly. “I picked a neighborhood that none of us lived in. Figured it’d be new and exciting.”

No one responds to that, letting Bad’s words fall flat and fester.

Sam turns his head to face the window desperately trying to escape the tension in the car.

The house they are creeping in front of, in a way that makes it look like they are casing it for a break in, is nothing special. White cloth ghosts fluttering from fishing line in the oak tree in the front yard. A plastic skeleton on the front porch, and one of those light projector things that displays bats on the garage.

All in all it’s nothing special.

“He’s just like me for real.” Charlie says point a finger right in front of Quackity’s face towards the skeleton on the porch.

“Not really like you.” Fundy says.

“He’s better.” Foolish mumbles so quiet Sam’s the only one to hear it. Which makes him look insane as he starts to laugh.

The next two houses are not decorated which leads Bad to continue on.

“Smash.” Quackity says as the next decorated house come into view

“Language.” Bad shouts.

The house has one of those nine foot tall Home Depot skeletons. Which Sam can only assume was what Quackity found hot enough to smash.

“Smash.” Charlie mimics the sentiment without so much as a second thought. Because apparently Sam is in this van with a bunch of whores.

“How would that even work?” Foolish asks, cutting off whatever the harlots in front of them had to say next.

“Foolish when a man loves a man..” Quackity starts.

“Why assume it’s a man?” Fundy says turning in the passenger seat to face the rest of them.

“I know how gay people work.” Foolish jumps to defend himself.

“Oh you know huh? First hand knowledge.” Charlie jokes

Bad sighs deep and tired and he moves past the house. “What is wrong with all of you?” He asks.

In perfect harmony several responses that Sam is positive Bad didn’t really want are thrown at him.

“I’m trans.”

“I’m gay.”

“Shouldn’t you know? You’re the therapist.”

“The government's foster system is really the root of it.”

“It’s the glasses you know. They ruin me.”

Bad’s grip on the steering wheel turn white knuckled. “It was in fact rhetorical.”

The next house has a coffin standing up with a fake corpse in it. Or at the very least Sam hopes that it’s fake.

If he were a murder, which he’s not because that would be fucked and selfish. But if he was he’d hide the bodies during Halloween.

Put them in other peoples decorations, really spice things up.

Maybe this is the real reason Sam needs therapy. His crazy body hiding plans.

The next house is simple with cardboard gravestones with bad puns on them.

Charlie reads them out laughing and tacking on his own little commentary for each stone.

The car creeps along further. Before Bad slams on the break startled by the loud gasp that Fundy lets out.

“I take back what I said. Nine foot tall werewolf man is a smash.” Fundy all but shouts.

Sure enough at the house on the left there is a nine foot tall werewolf statue ripping its own flannel shirt off.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asks.

“Is it because he’s a man. Are you homophobic Sam?” Fundy asks in a scandalized tone. Putting a hand over his forehead and pretending to faint dramatically like the dainty Japanese women in the shitty shows Sam’s Nan watches.

“It’s because he’s a statue. It could never work between you two. A man and a statue.” Sam sighs dramatically, channeling his inner Wilbur Soot, the theater guy who always gets leads.

“It could never be.” Quackity nods sadly.

“You are all horrible.” Foolish snorts giving Sam a bright crooked smile.

For the most part the night continues like that. Bad’s van creeping through the neighborhood at a snail's pace while those inside of it make commentary.

Some houses are poorly done in cheap bat lights and graves while others go all out, smoke machines and bodies in the trees.

It’s enough that as they drive they find themselves talking though. Mainly about the houses they pass but sometimes they beak from the self imposed routine, sometimes they talk like normal people would.

About things like school and friends. It’s all stupidly, sickeningly domestic.

Selfishly Sam thinks that something might be changing. He’s not sure what. Maybe mercurys in retrograde or whatever.

Sam wouldn’t know, and selfishly he dosent really care. Instead of analyzing it he decides to live in the moment. To pretend for a minute he’s doing something fun with friends.

It’s probably stupid, no, scratch that it definitely is. But who is going to stop him?

When they finally make their way out of the neighborhood, Bad talks again. “I really am proud of you guys. I know it’s lame or whatever, I’ve got a son I know how you all think. But it really is nice to see you getting along.”

“We aren’t friends Bad.” Quackity mumbles tugging his beanie down, his red beanie Sam notes detachedly.

“I know. I know. The point stands though. You guys are talking to each other. Willingly.” Bad says softly, as he pulls into the church lot.

No one says anything else as they disperse. Fundy heads into his mom's car while Quackity goes to sit in the curb and wait for his dad. Charlie gets into his car, and Bad pulls into a parking lot to make sure all of them leave.

Sam heads towards where his truck is parked.

Despite the fact that it finally got out of the shop a while ago, after Sam selfishly made it aquinted with a tree, he hasn’t exactly driven it a lot.

There are many reasons Sam could blame for this. Ponk’s not so subtle worry that has her insisting Sam ride with her. Sam’s mothers worry not even hidden and the guilt it causes.

But Sam’s going to have to do this eventually so he sent Foolish a text at noon telling him that Sam would be driving to the dinner today.

Sam’s truck is a second hand beat up black thing that was one of the only gifts his father gave him. It’s the words 'Pandora's vault of flowers’ on the side which ages the car tremendously. Especially considering that particular flower shop shut down three months after Sam was born.

Sam can tell Foolish is reconsidering his previous agreement by the way he eyes the truck when he gets into the passenger seat.

“Are you sure this is a running vehicle?” Foolish asks.

“Shut up.” Sam grumbles, turning his eyes in the ignition.

The drive is a blur it shouldn’t be because Sam really should pay attention to the road. Instead he’s focusing on dispelling the tight feeling in his chest that makes it hard to breathe.

Sam hates it. That he ruined such a simple thing for himself. That he can’t even drive properly anymore.

“You coming?” Foolish asks, eyeing Sam’s white knuckled grip on his steering wheel.

It makes Sam realize they’ve already made the ten minute drive to the dinner. It seems time passes quickly when you're panicking. Truly shocking.

The door chimes a cheerful note when Sam and Foolish walk in.

Ponk’s already at their usual booth with a plate of French fries and a lemon float in front of him.

“Hello, boys.” She’s says as Sam sits beside her and Foolish settles across from them. “I bet your wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” They drawl lacing their fingers together and putting their chin on her hand.

Sam really isn’t. Technically Ponk and Foolish are here to do artwork. They’ve broken their long piece into 12 inch or so long pages they will connect later. So it’s easier for them to do their work at the dinner table. Sam however technically doesn’t need to be here anymore. Ponk’s perfectly safe with Foolish. But every time that he mentions going home Ponk and Foolish give him the same hurt look so he doesn't.

Foolish nods opening his bag to pull out pencils

“It’s because I’ve got the question of the day. What’s the theme song for the start of today’s episode?” Ponk says leaning in close.

“Episode?” Sam asks reaching around Ponk’s back to grab his float while taking a sip. It’s bitter and Sam is not sure why Ponk drinks it so he puts it back.

“Like the start of your day. But in TV lingo.” Ponk rolls their eyes.

“What’s the really basic Imagine dragons workout song?” Foolish asks head tilting.

“I'm not letting your theme be Thunder by image dragons.” Sam cuts in.

“Yeah freak.” Ponk says, shaking her head.

“You can do a sea shanty.” Sam adds on pointing a finger at Ponk who lets out a squawk of complaint.

“Super bass.” Foolish says grinning.

“No.” Sam says only to be cut off by Ponk’s shout of:

“You sinner!”

They burst into laughter that only quiets when a waitress in a blue apron, who has that dead eyed service worker look starts to approach.

“What can I get y’all.” The waitress asks, not even bothering to look at them.

“Another lemon float please and a cheeseburger no pickles.” Ponk says kicking Foolish not so subtly under the table.

“Chicken tenders with fries. Oh and ranch please.” Foolish says as Ponk starts to mock his food choice Sam opens his mouth to order but is cut off by his phone vibrating.

Mom:
Your fathers at the house.

What. The. Fuck.

Chapter Text

Charlie spends the down time between group and school arguing with his father.

This isn’t necessarily new, they clash like flint and steel, sparking off each other in a bright flashing flare of hate.

Recently instead of fighting about how Charlie talks too much, or the tone his father took with his sister, it’s been about grades.

Charlie cannot manage the will to get up half the time. Much less get up the will to do his homework.

And while in most classes homework isn’t worth a huge percentage of his final grade, it adds up quick.

Meaning when he got home today a math test with a red 72% on it sitting in the bottom of his bag he knew what to expect.

A fight.

It’s an increasingly familiar song and dance when fighting over Charlie’s grades.

His father says he’ll never amount to anything, Charlie says nothing.

His father says he’ll never get a job if he keeps this up, Charlie says nothing.

His father makes empty threats to ground him, Charlie says nothing.

His father threatens to take his phone. Something he’ll never act on because it would cause him to spend more time with Charlie than necessary, Charlie says nothing.

That’s how it goes today with no change. Other than an eye roll from Charlie when his father ever so ‘graciously’ dismisses him to his room.

When Charlie gets in his room he sets a timer with engough time for him to drive to group after waking up then he lies on his bed. Unable to get up the motivation to move his lead coated limbs.

Charlie’s aware it’s depression, he knows the symptoms. But Charlie’s also aware he’s unable to do anything about it.

Asking to be medicated would go over like a lead balloon, his mother would be too worried about her image.

Telling Bad his you know, thearipist, is simply an unacceptable idea. Even the thought of it makes his skin crawl with invisible ants.

So Charlie accepts his grades slipping and in turn he super glues his happy go lucky mask to his face.

He’s not going to let the dark cloud over his head deep through the cracks, instead he’ll put the last dredges of his effort into being normal.

Being happy and funny, and if people won’t find him funny, they’ll find him abonixios and loud. But at least they’ll be none the wiser to the deep endless drowning of his thoughts.

So Charlie gives himself a 45 minute reprieve. Though it feels like much less, he’s stuck in a fuzzy void of no time.

But when the quacking duck alarm on his phone goes off Charlie forces himself out of bed.

He shouts a bye to his mother who’s nursing a pot of pasta over the stove, grabs his keys and leaves the house.

As he drives music playing just a bit to loud he can feel the lead in coating his limbs start to dissipate.

He feels lighter, he’s by no means looking forward to group the concept. But he’s looking forward to this session.

To watching some Halloween movie that will probably be PG because Bad’s picking it.

To hanging out with the others who seem to be opening up to one another. Hell they seem to be almost friendly with each other.

Their colors shifting to a brighter rainbow.

Foolish’s bright sunny laugh turning gold. The rust is still covered with paint but it’s a less cheap sort of paint.

Quackity’s deep ocean of color no longer seems like a tsunami over the sea. Just a sea, still dangerous but beautiful in its own right.

Fundy’s orange is no longer so muted as he allows himself to talk. To exist unapologetically.

Sam’s green shifting from a camouflage to help him hide, to a shade of green like the homecoming dresses that girls wear. Pretty but still nothing Charlie cares about enough to look at.

Charlie thinks he no longer white in the absence of color, of a true emotion. Instead he’s an opal color showing in light reflection, joy shinning through.

~~~

The church security and the priest are definitely sleeping together. No one spends that much time in the confession booth without something going on.

Really Charlie should make a post on the weird cork board that sits in the lobby. He could pull a real gossip girl.

The world's lamest gossip girl but a gossip girl nonetheless.

The Velma costume is rather itchy but just as funny as he thought it would be when he put it on before leaving.

Charlie’s depression almost feels temporary compared to the idea of the look on Bad’s face.

By now at least two of the others have arrived meaning Bad might think it’s a fluke.

And two is a coincidence but three's a trend.

By the time Charlie makes it down the basement steps towards the door he almost feels giddy. Excited with the chaos to come.

When the basement door breaks open instead of being created by Bad’s shocked and confused face Charlie is greeted by a projector screen on the opposite wall.

The cold concrete floor is covered in blankets of all kinds making it look like some odd ABO nest.

And oh that thought needs to leave Charlie’s head now please and thank you.

Bad’s standing near the door phone in hand seemingly trying to get one of those cheap twenty dollar Amazon projectors to work.

“Nice to see you Charlie.” Bad says not bothering to look up.

He does however look up when Fundy lets out an excited shout of “you remembered.”

Fundy’s got his own Fred costume on and Foolish who’s the only other person in the room has a his Scooby onesie costume on.

“You are all matching?” Bad may have not meant it as a question but it definitely ended up at one.

“Yeah, we thought it’d be cool.” Foolish says voice deadpan and face giving away nothing to their plans.

Charlie nods his head in agreement before going to sit down on the pile of blankets nudging Fundy with his elbow as Fundy starts to snigger.

“You're gonna let him in on it.” Foolish whispers a grin breaking out on his face.

Though with how long it takes Bad to set the projector up, Charlie doesn't think that Bad would have noticed their laughter.

Hell he doesn't even comment as Quackity walks in with a purple dress on and a green scarf tied around his neck. His beanie is still firmly in place though.

He does notice when Sam comes in half an hour late though. Simply raising an eyebrow and gesturing to his blanket nest.

Once they are all settled Bad blinks then says. “So it’s a group costume! That’s sweet. Sappy and his friends are going as some slasher killers. I like your guys' group costumes better though. The mystery gang is so fun.”

Bad’s face tells a different story though as he eyes then wearily like they might pull out knives and try and off themselves again.

Like the world's strangest grift. A morbid long con. A death con if you will.

“I’ve got beetlejuice loaded up, I know it’s not really horror but I figured just in case.” Bad says catiously before adding on. “Anyways if you want to watch horror together sometime in December I plan on doing the sleepover with friends one if a parent hosts it. Obviously I would be there but you know.” Bad waves a dissmive hand like he didn’t just drop a bomb shell.

Silence follows before Foolish lets out an akward laugh. “Beetlejuice sounds good.” He says purposely ignoring the last bit of Bad’s sentence.

The others mumble agreements to Foolish’s statement.

Beetlejuice is a good film in Charlie’s humble opinion, it’s nice how in the end Lydia gets a good family. One that loves her, that thinks she’s great, even if they are ghosts.

“Kinda weird he tries to marry like a 13 year old.” Fundy says from where he’s sprawled out on his back. The movies just started, it seems Charlie’s not the only one who’s seen it before.

“Yeah and honestly the dead ghost man is hot.” Quackity agrees.

“You're mentally ill.” Foolish says.

Sam throws a blanket at Foolish. “The man’s right let him speak.”

“Foolish homophobic arc.” Fundy mumbles ignoring the indginate shout Foolish let’s out.

The movie continues on and Charlie points at the secretary in hell, Mrs. Argentina. “She’s stuck working with people because she K-ed her S.” He jokes. And while it’s not a joke most other groups would appreciate it gets a laugh.

“Love relatable movie characters.” Sam says, offering Charlie a small smile.

Quackity nods ignoring Bad as he scolds Sam. “She’s just like us for real.”

For the most part after that they sit in silence though watching the movies in what started as an awkward tension. Later it developed into an almost comfortable silence in the near dark.

Only near dark though because every five minutes or so Sam’s phone will light up. He ignores it every time but nonetheless Charlie notices it.

It’s weird how much Charlie notices about others, small things nothing too important to anyone but him.

Sam smiles without his teeth on the rare occasion he smiles.

When Quackity laughs, like really genuinely does like when he’s made a bad joke at Bad’s expense, he snorts.

Foolish hums the melody to popular songs under his breath when the silence sits around them for too long in silence.

Fundy’s clothes are all hand-me-downs, but each one has a patch or bit of bleach art that Charlie’s almost positive Fundy did himself.

He wonders if the others notice things like this about him.

It’s a weird thought one that makes Charlie feel strange so he forced himself to focus on the end of the movie.

Lydia’s biking back from her school on the screen so it’s close to both the end and the best part.

Charlie watches the rest of the movie enjoying the peace before they have to leave.

“I’m glad you guys had fun. Relaxing is just as important as anything else when trying to get better. Don’t think what you're doing isn’t progress even if it doesn’t feel like it.” Bad says after the credits roll. He flicks the bright florecient lights on, smiling down at them in the pile of blankets.

“Be safe on your way out.” He calls out to them as they leave.

Once all of them are outside of the church Foolish holds a hand out to stop them from leaving. “I want a group photo of our costumes.” He says seriously.

“Really.” Quackity says voice confused and toeing on annoyed.

“Yes we did not get these for nothing.” Foolish retorts waving his phone.

“We got them to scare Bad.” Sam says but he makes no effort to leave.

“We did that. I want a photo too though. Good blackmail if any of you try something.” Fundy says.

Dramatically Charlie puts a hand over his heart. “Us? Try something? Never.” He says high pitched.

They do end up taking one proper photo with Foolish’s phone. All of them fight to fit in the frame while Foolish holds his arm out as far as he can.

Charlie doesn’t get a good look at the photo after it’s taken but he’s still pretty content.

While it was much longer than a normal group session Charlie thinks he enjoyed it.

It was better than wallowing at least.

Foolish:
:one PDF image attached:

Fundy:
We are so cringe

Quackity:
Speak for yourself, I'm hot.

When Charlie opens the photo he sees a hyper color image. Foolish is in the middle grinning wide in a too large scooby doo onesie. On his left Quackity flashes a peace sign not smiling with his mouth but his eyes look less annoyed than usual. He does look nice in the purple dress. Not in a weird way. Charlie stands next to Quackity awkwardly, the orange sweater and skirt are poorly fitting and even in the photo it’s clear he has no clue what to do with his hands. On Foolish’s ther side Sam smiles closed lipped the neckline of his green shirt showing how horrible the color clashes with his hair. Fundy’s on the other end from Charlie in a white polo shirt and orange ascot, he’s smiling wide at the camera.

It’s a poorly taken photo, blurry and too bright. They look happy though. If Charlie didn’t know anything about them he could say they were friends going to a costume party.

If he saved the photo it’s no one’s business but his.

Chapter Text

Foolish would consider himself a pretty observant person in general. In foster care it pays to be observant, to know when an adult's tone changes, to know when you need to hoard food or find a way to call your social worker.

Because of this Foolish is observant which is why he knows something’s off with Sam. While he’s not sure what, because whenever Foolish or Ponk or anyone else for that matter asks, Sam brushes them off.

Last Thursday he had even slipped out on dinner after group something Ponk didn’t even know why he did. It’s a bit disheartening especially because Foolish had rather, well, foolishly assumed he was actually making friends.

Real friends not the assholes on the school’s football team that he had to be nice to for the sake of the team. Not Dream who doesn’t count or any of his weird friends who hang around the house.

A real qenuine friendship, a rare thing which how often Foolish bounced from house to house. It’s a bit pathetic but whatever he’s allowed to feel upset that someone he thought was a friend is now totally icing him out.

It makes him feel a bit better that Ponk’s just as lost about it, she had called Foolish after he got off the bus to Puffy’s house. The two of them had been talking since, Ponk’s tinny voice over the phone a fimlar and welcome thing.

“He’s coming tonight so help me god.” She complains “who does he think he is huh?”

It’s retorical and Foolish knows it.

“He’s only acted like this, like twice…” Ponk’s voice trails off before he makes a soft noise.

“Do you think he gonna… agian?” They ask and Foolish isn’t sure how to answer that.

It’s a question like the trolly problem, no good answer to it.

“I’m not sure Ponk I didn’t know Sam back then. I don’t know what signs to look for.” Foolish says gently. He spins around in the wheely desk chair Puffy gave him.

“There were none. I don’t know. The only other time he really gets like this are when his father stops around but that’s probably not it.” Ponk sighs.

“Sam has a dad?” Foolish feels a little dumb for asking. Because of course everyone has a dad but Foolish always got the vibe he just wasn’t in the picture.

Ponk hums “not really, just some guy who pops in every now and then but I doubt he’s back. Last I heard he was in prison for something.” There’s the sound of shuffling over the phone. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for group?” She asks.

After checking the clock Foolish notices they are of course, right. “Yeah I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the Dinner though.”

“Alright have fun. Love you dude.” Ponk says before hanging up.

Foolish feels his face heat before reminding himself to get it together. Ponk didn’t mean anything by that in the way Foolish’s brain is thinking.

~~~

Foolish stares blankly at the folding table set up with white pieces of paper at those primary colored crayola finger paints.

How old does Bad think they are really?

Actually Foolish isn’t sure if he wants the answer to that.

When Bad looks up from carefully putting a red blue and yellow paint bottle and pice of blank paper at each seat, he grins at Foolish. “We’re doing finger painting today I thought it sounded fun and I had some old stuff from when Sappy was little.”

Foolish tries to picture Sapnap, who he watched catch a pot of ramen on fire yesterday, finger painting. It’s a very hard picture to conger up.

But none the less he nods his head pleasantly becasue Bad is an adult and disagreeing with adults never goes well.

So Foolish eyes the seats that are full. Of the six seats around the table only three are full. There Bad, an empty seat next to him, Sam, an empty seat next to him, another empty seat, then finally Quackity.

Sam doesn’t even bother looking up when Foolish sits down beside him.

“So…” Foolish says awkwardness coating the two like snow.

“Later.” Sam says folding his arms on the table and putting his head on them.

“Are you mad.” The question sounds more anxious than Foolish wants too. He hates angry people. Angry people means angry actions.

“Not at you. Never.” Sam moves close enough that his shoulder can rest against Foolish’s

As childish as it is, it makes the tension leave Foolish shoulders. It is a very friend-ish thing to say after all.

Charlie flurries in with a whirlwind of movement he’s holding a handful of papers in his hand which he slams down violently. The moment makes Sam jump his head lifting to glare at Charlie.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Quackity says reaching over to grab one of the papers.

“Slash J right?” Charlie jokes.

“Slash SRS.” Quackity snips

“I aced my math test and I wanted to show bad. Get some adult validation you know.” Charlie shows them the paper still in his hands with a red 98 at the top of it.

“Good job Charlie. I am proud that you got your grade up.” Bad cheers smiling.

Charlie grins. Something about is different tha his usual smile but Foolish can’t quiet put his finger on what.

Fundy arrives last sitting down on Sam’s other side while Bad takes the only remaining chair.

“Today we’re doing finger painting!” Bad says doing little jazz hands.

“I want to see something the way you see it. While we may not have a large pallet that adds to the challenge I think. You already paint with such a limited pallet. Even if you don’t know it each of you are at a disadvantage.” Bad is cut off by Quackity.

“Gee, thanks.” Fundy mumbles frowning.

“That dosent mean you aren’t beautiful though. At your core. I want you to reflect that to see the beauty in your self and your illness because no matter how hard it is for you, you persevere and that’s art.” Bad ignores Fundy steady fast.

“So.. we’re finger painting self portraits?” Foolish can’t help but ask because of how ridiculous it is.

“Yup.” Bad grins “while we paint I was thinking we could listen to a podcast.” Bad starts tapping away on his phone and pulls out a small speaker.

Then after a minute or two a theme song starts. After it starts Quackity starts cackling. “Is this welcome to Night Vale. Are you calling us gay Bad?” Quackity snorts.

Bad says nothing but his eyes display a knowing sort of mirth.

Foolish has never heard of Welcome to Night Vale before but it is rather odd. He likes the host’s cadence and the story’s a bit strange but Foolish likes it well enough.

Carefully Foolish squirts a bit of red, blue, and yellow onto a paper plate before using the yellow to make a head shape.

It goes on like that for two whole episodes. They paint with their now dirtied fingers and listen. It’s nice even including Quackity’s and Charlie’s commentary of the podcast.

After the second episode ends Bad claps his own paint covered fingers together. “Time to share out everyone. Show us what you did and why!” He grins before brandishing his own paper there’s a yellow plob with brown hair made of all the colors mixed together. The eyes are the same brown shade and Bad’s glasses are painted blue. If you squint you can tell what it is.

“I painted my skin with just yellow because I’m not sure how to make peach, I mixed all the colors together for my hair and eyes then I used just the blue for my glasses.” Bad tells them smiling. “Alright Foolish.” Bad nods at him.

“I painted my skin yellow my shirt red and my hair blue. I did this because I refuse to mix colors and ruin them.” Foolish jokes flipping his paper around. In reality it’s pretty good, at least in his opinion. Foolish face shape done well and a bunch of shading using a mix of blue and other colors. It’s done in the same style of the long piece Foolish and Ponk are working on.

Charlie let’s out a low whistle. “Way to down play it.” He laughs.

Sam’s flips his own paper over with a yellow stick figure that had green hair. “ I used yellow for the stick figure because I’m white-ish, if you ignore the Japanese bit. and green for the hair because I have green hair.” Sam sounds bored and unenthusiastic.

Charlie however on the other presents his paper with a over exaggerated florish. On the paper is a line green blob. That’s it. “ I used green because I’m a fan of green. I am however not an artist. So blob.”

“You look like a slime.” Quackity snarks. Charlie however just grins.

Fundy’s paper also has a stick figure on it. With a blue blob on the chest that could be a shirt and a red blob for the hair. “It’s me you know.” He says shrugging akwardly.

Bad nods grinning. “That it is. Quackity your last.”

Quackity shows a blue stick figure with a red beanie on. “The beenie” he points at the top of his own head then the pictures. “The rest.” He gestures vaguely to the rest of the photo. Quackity sits down staring Bad down like a challenge

“That’s great. Good job Everyone. I like how you all displayed yourselves. You're free to go until next Thursday.” Bad says pointing to the door.

Everyone but Sam and Foolish scramble to leave taking their finger paintings with them.

Sam sighs. “Ready to go?” He asks.

“No need to sound so unenthusiastic.” Foolish remarks standing up and waving to Bad as he leaves.

Driving with Sam he’s something the Foolish isn’t quiet sure how he feels about.

On one hand Sam’s a quiet careful driver. On the other hand no matter what he does Foolish can’t quite get rid of the worry in his chest that tells him Sam could kill them both.

It’s a stupid worry and it feels cruel but he can’t really help it.

His hands shake from where they are playing cats and soup on his phone up until they park at the dinner.

They exit the car in silence, Sam's eyes on Foolish’s hands and Foolish’s eyes on the door.

It’s an easy game of pretending that neither of them notice what the others doing.

Ponk looks up from her phone as the two of them approach the usual booth. “Sam sit there.” He order pointing across from him.

“Have I lost sitting next to you privileges.” Sam drawls sarcastically, complying with Ponk nonetheless.

“Yes.” Ponk retorts seriously hitting her knee agianst Foolish’s as he sits down.

“So, what’s been up with you?” Ponk asks Sam frowning.

Sam sighs before smiling at the waitress as she walks over. They each order a coke before returning to their conversation.

“My dad’s stopped by he’s been staying on the basement couch.” Sam says.

“I didn’t know you had a dad.” Foolish says into the silence.

“I don’t like technically. He’s not on my birth certificate or anything. Hell Kevin’s more of a dad than he is.” Sam says dismissively.

The waitress sits their drinks down with a clink before they order their usuals. Cheeseburger no pickles with fries for Ponk. Chicken tenders with fries and ranch for Foolish. And a hamburger with pickles for Sam with a side salad.

“I thought he was in prison.” Ponk says though her tone has significantly softened from the start of the conversation.

“He got out a couple months ago. Wants to try being a father agian. Sorry I’ve been weird it won’t last long.” Sam say kicking both of them lightly under the table.

“You’ve got a timer on your break down?” Foolish asks jokingly.

“Nah but he’ll leave soon. My father gets these kick sometime where he thinks he wants to be a father. The longest it lasted was like three months when I was ten. He’ll get sick of staying on the basement couch of Kevin’s place soon enough.” Sam shrugs at him.

“Just get back to normal quicker I’m sick of worrying about you.” Ponk orders smiling at reaching over to grab Sam’s hand.

“Yeah yeah whatever. Do your art nerd shit you two.” Sam smiles the slight gap in his two front teeth visible to all.

The dinner is warm contrary to the cold weather outside. There is the soft croons of a love song from the jukebox and Foolish is with friends.

For the first time in a very long time Foolish feels safe. It’s a rare and treasured feeling anymore

Chapter Text

“Mr. Halo and Mr. Nottfound, what in the name of god is so important that you two see it fit to interrupt me?” Quackity’s English teacher's high pitched voice echos a bit through the room.

If Quackity looks up from where he’s hiding his phone behind his book, towards the front of the class he can see who his teacher is shouting at.

Sapnap, George, and by extension Dream- Foolish’s foster brother.

Sapnap and George have both frozen halfway leaning towards each other on their desks in the front row. The two seem like they just stopped fighting, Sapnap has George’s glasses in his hand and George is holding what might be his or Sapnap’s phone.

“If you two are going to act like children I am not above treating you like children. Everyone else in class is paying attention to our rather fun discussion on the book.” The English teacher points at the rest of the class, all of which scramble to hide their phones that they were just on.

Really it was less of a discussion about their required reading and instead a monologue.

“I’m going to have to separate you two.” She says with what might be disappointment in her voice. Which is just sad because Dream and his friends have been pulling this shit since the school year started.

“I mean honestly I have freshman students who are better behaved.” She huffs, shaking her head.

The whole class holds still as her eyes sweep over them, none of them wanting to be forced to move.

Technically when the school year started their English teacher was one of the ones who let them sit wherever. Encouraging them to think of her as a ‘cool teacher.’ Because of that however the class has settled nicely into an unofficial seating chart.

Quackity sits in the back row tucked into the far back corner with some quiet girl in front of him, who actually does her work unlike the rest of them. The seat next to him is the only empty one in their class.

Which means Quackity is probably fucked.

He doesn’t want the obnoxious kids next to him no matter which one of them it is. All three of them think themselves the second coming of Christ and Quackity can not be bothered to deal with it.

Hell he doesn’t even really do any of the English work but he doesn’t want to be distracted from what little he does by one of them.

Finally after a long minute of awkward silence the teacher's eyes stop on the seat next to Quackity condemning him to metaphorical death row.

“Mr. Halo it seems there’s an empty seat in the back row there. Why don’t you move over there.” It’s less of a suggestion and more of an order. “And Stacy be a dear and move into Mr. Halo’s only seat.”

Some girl, Stacy appartly begins to grumble gathering her things. Sapnap has already moved throwing his things loudly on the once empty desk next to Quackity.

If there is such a malevolent god as the one Quackity’s Abulea likes to pray to, he must be mocking Quackity. Saying ‘oh you don’t want any of them sitting next to you? Take the loudest one’.

God if he is real, Quackity decides is a prick.

“Now that that’s sorted let’s get back to what I was saying.” The teacher continues her monologue not that anyones really listening.

Quackity re-focuses to his poorly hidden phone. Bad had texted at some point during the class's disruption.

Almost like he knew his, whatever Sapnap is to him. Was causing trouble.

Bad:
We’re going to be discussing quotes from our favorite movies today in group!
Come prepared for that owo

Quackity’s phone buzzes again and he switches to the group text without Bad on it.

Charlie:
Who has a favorite anything????
Bad hates us

Quackity finds himself agreeing with Charlie. He’s always hated being asked his favorite color or movie or song. Because he doesn't know, he’s never known. It’s always changing and having to admit to himself that he doesn’t know something as simple as his favorite color is terrifying. Can he even say he knows himself if he doesn’t know the simple stuff.

Fundy:
Agree that Bad hates us but I have a favorite everything. Are you good??

Quackity:
I’m on Charlie’s side

Charlie:
Me and Q are best friends confirmed???!?

“Do you plan on ignoring me and being boring forever?” A voice interrupts Quackity before he can threaten to dox Charlie.

Quackity turns his head to shoot Sapnap an unimpressed look.

“Didn’t you already get in trouble for not listening to the teacher?” He asks sarcastically.

“Okay and? This class is boring. You know it too. I’m just trying to find something we can talk about. Common ground you know.” Sapnap says, sounding mildly annoyed.

Quackity doesn’t bother dignifying Sapnap with an answer.

“Alright. How about skateboarding?” Sapnap says, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“Never done it.” Quackity relents, hoping a response will be enough to get Sapnap to leave him alone.

“Never. Alright ummm… any anime you're into?” And god is Sapnap, one of the guys that Quackity hears girls call hot, an ahegio hoodie freak?

“If it wasn’t on cable I didn’t watch it. So unless you count yu-gi-oh the answer is no.” Quackity’s own annoyance is now audible.

“Yu-gi-oh what the fuck dude. That’s like the shitter Pokémon.” Sapnap keeps his voice at a whisper as not to be told off by the teacher but it has most definitely picked up in volume.

“Blue eyed white dragon.” And while it’s the only bit of Yu-gi-oh Quackity can remember he’s going to use it to be an antagonizing dick.

“I need to move seats. This is horrible.” Sapnap goans but there’s a quirk of his lips that throws Quackity for a loop.

“You should, I was perfectly content. I’m sure if you kick up enough of a fuss she’ll move you again.” Quackity says.

Sapnap just grins at the slight insult. “Awe but who would you talk to then? Just go back to sitting in the back alone?”

It may be meant to be cruel or genuine but Quackity isn’t quite sure which one.

“I bet your parents are very proud of you.” Quackity says it sarcastically even though he knows it’s true. Bad speaks fondly of everyone in his life but especially Sapnap. Quackity knows this and he doesn’t even listen to the man half the time.

“My dads are so proud of me you don’t even know.” Its said cockily with a grin thrown at Quackity.

And when five minutes later the bell rings Quackity has learned all he needs to know that he is going to hate sitting next to Sapnap in class. No questions asked.

Even when Dream comes up to him as he’s leaving to go to his fourth period and says; “I am so sorry for whatever he did. I swear he’s not always like this. My friends are normal people.”

Sapnap and George are still bickering behind Dream in the classroom. Their argument muffled but still audible.

Quackity of course isn’t an idiot and knows that Dream is lying through his perfectly straight teeth.

~~~

Bad hates them. Quackity decides that is a fact of life. Like gravity. Or British people being the absolute worst.

Bad must, why else would he be having such an intense stare down with Sam while Fundy does his best to sink into the ground and disappear.

Quackity however instead of caring does what any sane person would and slips behind Bad ignoring the bit of conversation that he hears.

Something along the lines off, ‘I’m your thearipist Sam I’m on your side. I want to help. But I can if I don’t know what’s going on.’

It’s none of Quackity’s business and even if it was he doesn’t really care. Quackity doesn’t really care about anything that goes on here.

That’s a lie of course but Quackity is a rather good liar so it makes no difference.

Bad and Sam eventually end their conversation as the other begin to filter into the basement.

While they do that in the awkward tense silence of people who don’t quite want to be here, Quackity does his best to count the cinder bricks on the wall across from him.

He gets all the way to number 52 before Bad takes his own seat, clipboard in hand, grin on his face.

“Alright so today along with our usual introductions I want you all to give me your favorite movie quote. I told all of you about this earlier so I’m sure you had time to think about it.” Bad smiles with thin lips pressed tight together.

“We’re doing this because movie quotes can having meaning. They can have the deepest most thoughtful insightful meaning to you and others. They can be life changing. Or they can mean nothing. They can be funny or just something you enjoy. I think it’s a good reminder not everything needs to have meaning.” Bad nods his head at Fundy urging him to start off todays session.

“Well. I’m Fundy. I feel a bit hungry I guess. One good thing about my week is that I’ve had no tests at all. One bad thing about my week is that I’m going back to Phil’s on Sunday.” Fundy trails off shrugging.

“We’ll circle back to your dislike of going to Phil’s after introductions are done. What’s your quote?” Bad asks writing something down.

Fundy goes quiet for a minute like he’s considering what he’s going to say next. “In the 2002 spider man there’s this quote that aunt May tells Peter uh… something like ‘you Loved Him, And He Loved You. He Never Doubted The Man You'd Grow Into, How You Were Meant For Great Things. You Won't Disappoint Him.’ I like that one.” Fundy says his eyes are burning into the floor.

“Oh that’s rather nice Fundy, it’s a nice sort of pep talk. I’m glad you have such an insightful quote.”

It feels a bit like a dig at the rest of them. Like Bad knows they just googled movie quotes and picked the best sounding one.

Sam starts his introduction after a few beats of silence.

“I’m Sam I feel a bit bored. One good thing about my week is that I finished my English reading finally. One bad this is that people seem to think something’s up with me.” Sam shoots Bad a side eye at that.

“For movie quotes I like, ‘until now, you've simply sat in the shadows watching others live out their lives. But what do voyeurs see when they look into the mirror?’ It’s from one of the Saw movies. I’m a fan of those.” Sam says picking at a hangnail.

“You like the Saw movies?” Charlie’s voice is either horrified or curious.

“Yeah” Sam nods. “They're all so cool and thought provoking. I mean sticking it to those who have never been humbled. Show casing systematic oppression and violence, what’s not to like?”

Bad’s face does something that makes Quackity think he has some things not to like about the Saw movies, but he stays silent. Or maybe Charlie cuts him off before he can start his trirade.

“Hi I’m Charlie but you already know that. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I cleaned my room. One bad thing about my week is that I sleept the rest of the day after that. And a quote from my favorite movie is ‘You must always have faith in people. And, most importantly, you must always have faith in yourself.” Charlie grins like the cat who ate the canary, tipping Quackity off that he’s up to something.

“That’s an amazing quote about self worth. What’s it from?” Bad seems intrigued.

“Legally blonde I watched it a lot with my sister growing up.” Charlie grins.

Not so discreetly Quackity slides his phone out of his pocket and opens safari. Technically with the amount of advanced warning Bad gave him he should have looked up a quote already. But why would he willing spend extra time on group?

Charlie’s answer was funny, Sam’s was from a movie he actually liked, and Fundy’s was an actual good quote. God knows Foolish will actually do what Bad asked them too, he’s too worried about pissing him off not too.

All of this means Quackity needs to put some thought in but not too much.

He manages to type out Atlantis quotes, his long time favorite movie, before Foolish starts his introduction.

“I’m Foolish I feel fine. My weeks been good I got a new duvet for my room which is cool. One bad thing though is that your son has been burning food left and right while trying to cook.” Foolish shoots Bad a look.

With what very little Quackity knows about his new seat neighbor, him burning food checks out.

“My movie quote is ‘Where there's life there's hope.’ From The Lord of the rings. I used to have a copy of the books that I read a lot.” Foolish smiles.

“Used to?” Fundy asks

“At some foster home I must have lost them. At some point I just didn’t have it anymore. I should re-read it soon though.” Foolish shrugs.

Quackity can’t imagine reading a book the size of The Lord of the rings once let alone more than once.

By the time Quackity clicks on the first link that pops up on safari Bad is looking at him expectantly.

“Quackity. One good thing about my week was that…” Quackity pauses buying himself time to look at quotes and think of something good. “I went to the record store on James street. One bad thing is that I lost my house key and my parents are pissed.”

Quackity gains himself more time to pick a quote by pausing for bad to snap a ‘language’ at him.

“My quote is from my favorite movie Atlantis and it’s umm ‘You can't put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.’ I’m a big fan of learning you see.” Quackity says nodding his head to really drive the point home.

Bad hums a doubtful note but moves on nonetheless. Asking Fundy questions that will be answered with lies and half-truths. The same way all questions are answered in group.

Quackity vaguely wonders what would happen if he was honest with Bad. If he asked for help and listens to the answer.

The thought makes his check ache and his stomach tie itself into knots so he stops thinking about it.

It’s not like he cares for the answer anyways. He’s got bigger things to worry about. Like dealing with sitting next to Bad’s, apparently talkative, bastard son.

Chapter Text

Fundy can vaguely hear conversation coming up through the floorboards of the spare room.

Technically speaking it’s his room at Phil’s house but is never quiet felt that way.

Blindly he reaches for his phone hitting the alarm clock on the night table. It’s hurts his knuckles like a mother fucker but he continues his blind search.

Not there. No those are legos Tommy left. No. There. He grabs it and is immediately assaulted by the bright electric light.

5:09

Who the fuck is talking in the kitchen at a time like this.

Actually Fundy doesn’t want to know. There is a few text message alert from yesterday. The first of which is from Bad.

This should be good.

Bad:
Thoughts on finding good make up at dollar tree?
I know all of you are boys but just want to know b4 I veto it :}

Quackity:
Please just type out before it’s not hard

Charlie:
I can think of several other not hard things

Quackity:
What’s wrong with you /genuine

Charlie:
Finding good makeup at dollar tree! Sounds fun I’ll just give it to my sister though

Foolish:
I wore eyeliner once

Sam:
That is so so far from the question but I need to see photos of this.
Was it an emo phase
you legally have to tell me

Foolish:
I plead the fifth

Bad:
So yes for the makeup?

Sam:
Sure we don’t care.

Fundy does care.

Fundy cares so much. Of all days to go to bed early, why did it have to be last night?

How does he explain how the idea of makeup makes him want to break out in hives and claw at his skin.

He barely explained it to his parents, he just took to crying any time they put him in a dress and Wilbur’s eventually caught on.

Maybe he can get away with not participating.

Maybe he can skip today.

Fundy feels sick. His skin feels too tight stretching in places it both should and shouldn’t.

He hates it. He hates the fact that it bothers him so much. Hell, it doesn't even bother the others. Not that they let on anyways.

Fundy doesn’t get it. Men can wear makeup, hell Foolish who is like the man, admitted to wearing eyeliner. It’s not weird for men to wear makeup, it's not defining of anything. So why does it bother Fundy? It shouldn't. The idea that trans men can’t wear makeup is some Kevin what’s his face, type shit.

Fuck it Fundy’s sleep idled mind desides he doesn’t have to participate and if he wanted to he could wear make up. It doesn’t make him any less of a man. Hell Fundy’s probably more of a man than Charlie.

Yeah if Fundy wants to wear makeup he can and if he doesn’t want to he won’t. No one not even Fundy’s stupid brain can tell him how to do things.

Feeling rather accomplished, Fundy gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs grinning. Pleased with himself for outsmarting his own mind.

It seems however in his haze of victory he forgot one key thing. The conversation that woke him in the first place.

Phil is at the stove cooking breakfast doing his best to placate Wilbur. Of course the one person, out of five, he was avoiding in the house is here.

Fundy hates statistics.

“Wilbur you have to understand that sometimes you have different parents even if they're the same people. Oh! Fundy, you’re up early.” Phil says. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed at being caught. And judging by what he’s saying he’s been caught talking about Fundy.

“Why are you up so early?” It’s almost snappish the way Wilbur says it.

“Heard you two talking.” Fundy drawls migrating closer to the coffee pot on the counter. “Might want to try being quieter, Tommy won’t need up for another two hours.”

Wilbur turns his head to the side, finally feeling a bit of shame. “We were just talking.” He mumbles.

“We were actually talking about you mate.” Phil says like Fundy doesn’t know.

Wilbur shoots his foster father a betrayed look.

“I could tell.” Fundy says pulling a mug out of the cabinet above the coffee pot.

A tense palpable silence falls over them.

Fundy puts two spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee and takes a sip.

The grease from the sausage Phil is cooking pops.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Wilbur finally breaks the quiet.

“What is there to say. I’m content where I’m at. I’ve got bigger concerns.” Fundy takes another sip. It’s a bit hot, he could probably wait for it to cool.

“Concerns like what?” Phil asks

“School. You know it’s school. And group and dysphoria. Oh and not killing myself that’s a pretty big concern.” Fundy snaps a bit of the bundle of anger that sits in his chest leaking out.

The silence falls again. It stays this time however. It stays until Technoi and Kristin wake up and everyone begins to start their day.

The bit of anger Fundy allowed himself feels better than most group sessions have made him.

~~~

Bad’s minivan is idling in front of the church. Fundy can see Kristin’s eyebrows furrow as she looks at it. Like she’s almost confused why it’s out there.

“You guys going somewhere today?” She asks shooting Fundy a Look. A capital L Loo, like only she could give. Open and curious and judgemental all at once.

“Dollar store we’re finding good makeup.” Fundy keeps his words blunt. Not harsh though. Not with Kristin who’s never been harsh or pushy with him. It just wouldn’t be fair to her.

“Oh. Really?” She doesn’t know what to say to that. That much is obvious.

“Boys can wear makeup too.” It’s more snappish than he wants but that sick feeling is coming back. The sick feeling is coming back and Fundy wants it gone forever.

“Of course they can. Of course that wasn’t even a question.” Kristin is quick to jump in. “I just… Do you want to do that? I won’t be upset if you skip today.” Another pause. “Just today though.”

Fundy thinks the thought over. Debating it over and over again. Part of him wants to say yes. To hide away and stay where he feels comfortable in his own body and mind. Another part of him wants to say no. Mostly out of spite. Just to prove himself, and anyone else for that sake, wrong.

“I don’t have to participate if I don’t want to.” Fundy says instead of outright answering. “Doesn’t make me any less of a man if I do though.”

Kristin nods her head. “I mean out of my four sons I know for a fact two of them wear makeup.”

Fundy thinks for a minute. Smiling a bit at the four sons part, even if he’s not Kristin’s son it’s nice to hear. “Wilbur and Techno?”

“Yup Tech wears eyeliner sometimes. Wil wears concealer.” Kirstin giggles.

“I fucking knew it.” Fundy responds by opening the car door. Feeling a bit better.

Fundy walks out of Kirstin’s car towards Bad’s.

Not bothering pretending that anyone wants to sit shotgun, Fundy decides to bite the bullet and get in beside Bad. It could be worse, he tells himself. He could be dealing with Wilbur right now.

Everyone else is already loaded into the van, which further proves Fundy’s point that no one wanted to sit in the passenger seat.

“Hey Fundy, are you ready to go?” Bad asks rhetorically.

“Sure.” Fundy agreed with no enthusiasm as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Alright I’ve been brainstorming how to connect this one from the list back to what I’m trying to do here and I think I’ve got it. You don’t expect to find good things at the dollar store and thats what we’re looking for today. We’re practicing looking for a good thing where we don’t think we’ll find it. Which is something we all need to do more in day to day life. We need to look for the good in the bad even if we don’t think we’ll find any.” Bad looks rather pleased with himself.

“And makeup is used to make others feel more confident and comfortable with themselves, and that’s what we’re working towards. We need to be okay with us as we are no matter how we learn to cope to do that.” Bad adds after a minute tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

The quiet that follows his statement lingers in the air the whole drive to the dollar store. Even the quiet sounds of the radio doesn’t make it any less akward.

It’s always akward when someone says something like that. Something that makes sense but you can’t quite deal with. Fundy often can’t deal with some of the stuff Bad says.

There are several dollar stores around town, this is because of course, dollar general’s appear in the most random places.

The one they pull into looks like any other of its hundred twins. A capitalistic scheme parading itself around as a place of the people. It’s no of course but nothing really is anymore.

“Shall we?” Bad asks. It’s rhetorical agian, and they all get out of the van.

The parking lot and the outside the store are nothing special like every other parking lot, asphalt littered with trash and a store front that could be any other.

It almost makes Fundy feel a bit better in a odd way. How everything is both so strange and normal all at once.

The walk in as an off little group, Charlie and Quackity have started bickering about something or another, Foolish has broken off from Sam to walk beside Fundy and looks like he’s thinking rather hard. Bad of course leads their little funeral march dragging Sam along with him.

“Tell me if I over step.” Foolish says finally. Which does absolute wonders at spiking Fundy’s fear.

“I know that your trans. And I know I shouldn’t know because the only person who should have told me that is you. But people are dicks.” Foolish rushes out all at once

“They are. And I am. All these things are true. Was there something your getting at or…” Fundy does feel a bit bad being harsh with Foolish because he looks a bit like a kick puppy but Fundy is sick of the reminders he’s not like others.

“If you need me to do something today I will. No questions asked.” Foolish pauses. “Even not just for group.” With that strange sentence Foolish leaves. Rushing to catch up to the others.

He leaves Fundy standing in front of the door wondering when he became friends with Foolish. Because why else would he care? If they weren’t friends that is.

Whatever. Fundy has engough on his plate to worry about without spiraling into a deep dive of his relationships with others.

He walks into the harsh fake lighting of the dollar general.

Thankfully, or not so thankfully Fundy hasn’t missed much. He re-joins the group just in time for Bad to hand him 10 dollars and Sam to ask “so what are we actually doing here?”

“Well the list says a reason to live is finding good makeup at the dollar store…” Bad trails off as if thinking. “I’m not sure what good makeup is but I figured a nice outing wouldn’t hurt you guys. You need to get out more. Maybe it’ll be fun.”

Before Fundy can process the accidental sick burn Bad just gave him Quackity turns of his heel and walks deeper into the store.

“Alright I guess we’re going.” Charlie says shrugging and turning to follow him.

“I’ll meet you muffinheads in the van when you’re done to take you back to the church!” Bad calls out also turning to leave.

“So we should probably follow them.” Foolish says watching Quackity and Charlie leave.

“I mean..” Sam starts but Foolish cuts him off by leaving as well.

Fundy and Sam make eye contact for a minute before Fundy decides to rip the bandage off. Waiting will only make it worse he decides, so he turns to join the others. Sam is probably following him.

Quackity either shops for discount makeup often or he just got lucky because he managed to find the makeup aslie with ease.

“So?” Charlie starts. “Anyone know what good makeup looks like?” Charlie looks at all of them and Fundy can’t help but light up when Charlie’s gaze doesn’t linger any longer on Fundy than the rest of them.

Charlie of course however gets a bunch of head shakes because they are high schools boys and don’t know better.

“We’ve got ten dollars of our parents money that Bad gave us… I was going somewhere with this.” Foolish snorts. “Just pick some that looks normal.” He ends his sentence by squinting at the racks.

Foolish opts to do his idea by grabbing some fashion icon consealer and liquid eyeliner.

“Kinda weird how quick you just went for it.” Sam say nudging Foolish. “Almost like you knew this from your emo phase.”

“Shut up.” Foolish counters shoving him back.

Charlie takes the same approach, grabbing foundation and blush. He doesn’t even bother to grab the right shade of foundation.

Quackity however goes for a black stick eyeliner and mascara. Neither of them are any name brand but he doesn’t seem to care. “What if I just start going to school and start being hot.” He grins.

“Maybe grab more if you want to do that?” Charlie suggest laughing loudly when Quackity goes to hit him.

Sam pulls his phone out and starts typing, so Fundy turns his gaze to the rack. No one seemed to really care or judge. Hell earlier Foolish had even given him a sort of pep talk.

Okay, Fundy steels himself. It’s not like he has to do anything with the makeup. He can just forget about it if it really makes him feel bad. And he’ll be checking out with four other teen boys so he won’t even stand out.

Fundy grabs a light shade of consealer at random before grabbing the same kind of foundation. It’s not a lot but it’s something.

It’s something that is surprisingly enough not freaking him out like he should. Or no it shouldn’t because men can wear makeup. Hell all sorts of super masc men do and Fundy’s super masc.

Sam throws off Fundy’s process of thought by grabbing a small red eyeshadow pallet and a black liquid eyeliner.

“Are you going to wear that?” Fundy can’t help but ask.

“Me? Nah. Figure I’d get Ponk something. I could though. I just have no clue how to do makeup.” Sam grins at Fundy

“Alright let’s check out so I can go home and sleep.” Charlie cheers.

“Yay another akward car ride with Bad.” Quackity groans.

The group of them make it to the checkout line and Foolish grabs all of their stuff. “I’m checking out I’ll meet y’all at the door.” He says leaving them to go to the register.

“Cool while he’s gone let’s talk shit about him.” Quackity jokes.

They don’t of course instead Charlie starts in great detail talking about why they should throw a coo and overthrow Bad.

When Foolish returns he hands them their stuff back and later after they get back to the van he gives Bad the change.

Shockingly enough Fundy finds, as he lets his eyes wander over the city as they drive, he doesn’t feel as miserable as he thought he would. He still feels like him. He’s still Fundy. For the first time in a while the idea of comforting.

Even with two bottles of makeup clutched in his hands.

Chapter Text

Sam is not used to having stare offs with his father over the kitchen island. This is for many reasons of course.

One his dad has popped in and out of his life since he was born, deciding for a few weeks at a time that he wants to be a dad before remembering he does not in fact want to be a dad.

Two for all Kevin’s a pretty damn good husband to Sam’s mom, and dad to Hannah and Boomer. He isn’t Sam’s dad. But he’s also definitely not confrontational enough for a stare off.

Three Sam has been avoiding his father since he started crashing on Kevin’s couch. The only time Sam’s willingly interacted with his was to free his mother from a brewing argument between the two.

For all of these reasons the event happening now is completely foreign to Sam.

“Can I just get my keys and go or?” Sam asks feeling a bit annoyed eying the ceramic bowl, Boomer made god knows how long ago, that holds his truck keys.

“Are you really ditching dinner to get it with your friends again? I came all this way to see you, not your mother you know. And it’s thanksgiving.” The balls on this man to sound so condescending.

“Mom refuses to do thanksgiving, you know since all of the genocide agianst native people. We’ll go to Nan’s for dinner on Saturday though.” Sam dismisses.

“So what your stepfather just lets Fran step all over him?” He wrinkles his nose.

“He loves her and thanksgiving isn’t that big of a thing to give up.” Sam snaps feeling annoyed.

“Love? Is that why you're avoiding me? Because I didn’t love your mother? Samuel you’re old enough to know better than this. I’m trying to bond with you. I’m not sorry I didn’t love Fran.” His father matches Sam’s annoyed tone.

“Samuel isn’t my name and I could care less who you love. I’m not avoiding you, I’m just busy with school and I have group today.” Sam states.

“Sam is a nickname and it sounds childish. You’re a man now. A man who should respect his father some more. What’s group anyways?” Sam’s almost positive his father doesn’t care for the answer.

Just as he opens his mouth to answer, his mom bustles into the kitchen. “It’s group therapy that Sam is required by court to attend so he is not skipping because you want to play dad. Speaking of group Sam, you have to leave in five minutes.” She says opening the fridge door to grab water.

“Group therapy? What did you fight in ‘Nam?” It’s sarcastic and vaguely bitter.

“You're mixing up your stigmas.” Sam says reaching to grab his keys ignoring the look his father gives him. “That’s what you’d say if you were a dick and I just told you I had PTSD.”

His fathers face contorts in anger. “But if you must know I crashed my truck into a tree trying to kill my self.” It’s blunt when Sam says it and his fathers face drops into shock.

“The tree was in someone’s yard and they took me to court for property damage, but when they realized I wasn’t a drunk driver they switched what they wanted. They decided I’d do court mandated therapy with others like me.” Sam tells him.

“So now I have to go every Thursday. I’m not avoiding you but I certainly don’t respect you.” Sam starts to walk towards the front door feeling bad for leaving the others to deal with his father.

But with the shocked silence and the look on his fathers face Sam can’t help but feel smug.

~~~

Sam knows he’s in for trouble when he finally makes it to the basement of the church.

Bad’s grinning like a man gone mad and he had the same folding table they used for finger painting out and set up with what looks like piles of construction paper.

“Happy thanksgiving Sam!” He cheers in the form of a greeting. Like he hasn’t been trying to get Sam to open up to him in pseudo interrogation the last few weeks.

“Happy thanksgiving.” Sam grits out much less enthusiastically.

Bad follows Sam’s gaze to the table before he explains, “we are making hand turkeys today and talking about what we’re thankful for. Since it’s Thanksgiving you know.”

“Right.” Sam offers before going to take a seat at the table.

Fundy’s already sat at the table with his arms folded on the table. His head is in his arms and he may or may not be asleep. Sam can’t really tell. Sam sits across from him just in case, he dosent really want to wake Fundy up. The dude has eyebags that could hold a pound of rocks, or feathers.

Charlie arrives grinning then takes the seat on Sam’s right. He pulls two ziplock baggies out of the bag he had over his shoulder. The baggies have brownies in them.

They’re probably weed brownies Sam thinks. Charlie slides a baggie towards Sam then one towards Fundy before placing one in front of each empty seat.

“Happy thanksgiving I made us food since we had to be here today. On the bright side we came early because there was no school. So I’ll still get to spend it with my family.” Charlie grins at him.

“Right.” Sam agrees. “Thanks I’m sure the brownies are great.”

Sam decides he doesn’t care if there’s weed because that might make group more fun honestly. Spice things up a bit.

Foolish arrives and gets greeted by Bad the same way Sam did, before sitting on Sam’s other side. He dosent even question the brownie. He just opens the bag it’s in and starts eating it. Freak.

Quackity comes in and sits next to Foolish before Bad finally joins them at the table smiling pleasantly.

Sam bets he’s a robot. No way is Bad just this normal all the time for fun. Or maybe he’s crazy. Could be that too honestly.

“Alright everyone we’re gonna make hand turkeys today for a bit, then we’ll do our introductions but I also want us to add something we are thankful for. It can be anything big or small.” Bad starts.

“We are doing this for the same reason we’re going through the list. To be thankful for the lives we have. Most importantly to rember to be thankful for the things in this life. Little or big. Serious or not. No matter what if it’s something that affects you positively you should be thankful. We take so much forganted and this is a good way to rember that.” Bad continues on before he holds up the page of brown construction paper in front of him.

“In case you don’t know how to make a hand turkey, you trace your hand on the brown paper with a pencil, make sure your hand is open. The take whatever other color you want and trace your five fingers, then cut out what you traces and glue your colored finger pieces to the turkey like tail feathers. Then on the tail feathers write five things your thankful for. We will share only one of these but I want you to write five.” Bad says putting the paper in his hand down finishing his explanation.

Bad turns on the next episode of Welcome to Nightvale and let’s one whole episode play while they work.

Sam does as he was told, tracing his open hand on brown paper. Then tracing his fingers on orange, yellow, and red paper. Then cutting and glueing and writing.

He writes down his five things without thinking. It’s a lot easier to do the things Bad wants them to if Sam doesn’t think. If he thinks to hard about it he’ll sike himself out and get more anxious about stuff he doesn’t care about really.

He writes down five simple things, his family, his friends (read Ponk as he only really has the one friend, food,a house, and finally the internet because why not.

His hand turkey has less effort out into it than Foolish’s which has a beak and eyes but that’s neither here nor there.

After the episode plays the outro Bad claps his hands together scaring them all to attention.

“Alright times up it looks like everyone’s done so let’s get started sharing. I’ll start.” Bad grins at them smiling. He shows of a well made hand turkey with only red tail feathers.

“My name is Bad. I feel good. One good think about my week is that it’s thanksgiving! Which means when group is done me and Skeppy and Sappy are driving to my moms place for dinner. One bad thing about my week is that I had to cancel dinner with a friend of mine because of a conference earlier this week. I am thankful for my family because they give me a reason to wake up every day.” Bad looks like he genuinely means it too.

Bad was honest, probably trying to convince them to be honest too.

Fundy who had not been asleep apparently but bored shows off his own hand turkey full of jagged cuts.”I’m Fundy. I feel tired. One good thing is that I figured out how to make a creeper farm in Minecraft. One bad thing is that my biology teachers still being a dick.” He pauses looking at what he wrote on the turkey. “One thing I’m thankful for is that I have all A’s even if my biology teachers a dick.”

Quackity shows off his own turkey around. It has an XD face on it and no tail feathers. “My name is Quackity I’m bored. A good thing is that my mom is joking us for dinner today. A bad thing is that I got a C on my history test Tuesday. I’m thankful that I only have one class with Bad’s son.” Quackity grins triumphantly.

Bad’s face contorts in a grimace and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something but seems to realize that it’s agianst his like whole thing as a therapist.

Foolish quickly cuts in showing off a perfectly made turkey before something happens. “I’m Foolish I feel good because this is one of like five thanksgiving I’ve ever celebrated in a safe place you know.” Foolish pauses like he just realized how truthful that was. “That’s my good thing too. And my bad thing is that midterms are just around the corner and I’m already freaking out. I’m thankful for Puffy.”

Sam leans a bit in his chair so he’s close engough to touch elbows with Foolish. Ponk would know what to do better than Sam would because Foolish seems upset but Ponk isn’t here. Sam can make due though.

He flips his turkey around. It’s nothing special. “I’m Sam I feel fine. One bad thing is that I talked with my dad before group.” And wow okay that was honest maybe Sam should think before he speaks.

“One good thing is that I won’t have to deal with family until Sunday. I’m thankful for.” Sam eyes the turkey picking one at random. “My friends.”

Bad thankfully dosent push and just nods his head at Charlie. “Alright I’m sure we all have places to be so after Charlie shares your free to go. I know it wasn’t long today but I’m sure you’ll all be thankful about that.” He says.

Charlie’s hand turkey is backwards with his pinky finger as the head and the thumb as a tail feather. It makes the whole thing look wrong and strange.

“My name is Charlie I feel good! One good thing about my week is that it was only a two day school week. One bad thing about my week is that my dads been bitching about me not doing anything with my days off.”

Charlie pauses as Bad lets out a ‘Language!’

“One thing I’m thankful for is that I’m feeling better.” Charlie doesn’t elaborate on what he’s feeling better from but he also doesn’t give Bad time to ask him to. Instead he leaves the church like a bat out of hell.

“Alright. I guess you muffinheads are dismissed then.” Bad jokes making a go away gesture at the rest of them.

They of course don’t need any prompting to leave.

~~~

They aren’t going to the diner today. It’s thanksgiving and like normal people Foolish and Ponk are celebrating it with their families.

So instead Sam and Foolish load into Sam’s truck and Foolish plugs his phone with the maps app into the aux cord.

“I’m giving Ponk your address by the way.” Sam says pulling out of his parking spot.

“Don’t she’ll smother me in my sleep.” Foolish jokes, his gaze focused intently out the front window.

Sam’s aware that Foolish doesn’t like it when Sam drives. He’s aware also that Foolish would rather not have Sam bring this bit of tension up. So he doesn’t. In return Foolish never says anything about how nervous Sam is when driving. It’s a good system.

“If that was true I’d be dead by now.” Sam snorts, not even bothering to cover the sound. “Besides Ponk’s too fond of you to kill you.

“They’re fond of me?” Foolish’s voice does something odd. Pitching in a strange way that makes Sam want to give him a side eye.

“You’re his friend aren’t you?” Sam asks

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” Foolish says grinning like an idiot.

Sam’s definitely missing something. But he has arrived at the simple two story house that is Foolish’s place of residence, so Sam doesn’t ask.

Instead he wishes Foolish a happy thanksgiving and waves a goodbye back at Foolish once he’s at the front door.

Sam’s never been one for being thankful for things. Why be introspective when you can enjoy it while it lasts? But as Sam heads back to the house that feels more like a war zone nowadays he finds himself thinking about what he’s thankful for.

Strangely somehow without Sam noticing Foolish, Charlie, Fundy and Quackity have worked their way next to Ponk on that list.

Sam wonders if he’s got more than one friend to be thankful for.

Chapter Text

Charlie stares blankly at the folding table and chairs set up in the basement. Fundy’s standing behind Charlie staring as well.

“Bad must be on an arts and crafts kick.” He says dryly.

Charlie can’t help but snort as he walks further into the basement taking a seat at the table at random.

Fundy takes a seat across from Charlie and next to Bad who’s already sitting.

“I’ll bite. What’s today's plan?” Charlie asks, waving at Foolish as he walks in and takes the seat next to Charlie.

“I’ll tell you once everyone gets here.” Bad says grinning.

“He’s finally snapped.” Foolish stage whispers. “He’s killing us all.”

Bad gasps “language. Foolish no!” He says horrified.

Fundy snickers before ducking his head down. “I bet we’re playing the knife game.” He jokes.

Bad’s eye twitches as Quackity walks in and sits on his other side. “Enough of the very bad speculation.” Bad attempts to shut them up.

“Bad do you think this is bad?” Quackity asks putting an emphasis on both Bad’s.

They devolve into a table of giggling children, snickering at their own jokes.

Sam doesn’t even bat an eye as he walks in taking the final empty seat. Much to used to their specific brand of bullshit.

“I knew all of you would crack eventually.” Sam says. “Mentally that is.” Maybe he’s not as used to it as Charlie thought.

“Hey!” Fundy protests only to be shut up by Bad’s hand waving to get their attention.

“Alright let’s get started.” Bad announces loudly. “Today we are playing Uno, I figured we could do this as part of board games, but just a little easier so we don’t run too long today. We are playing games because they can be great ways to bond with others, which is important as other people are always great to have bonds with, they help you even if you or them don’t know it. Games are also a great way to relax. And I personally love relaxing.”

They stare blankly at Bad, not giving him the privilege of a fake laugh.

“Alright” Bad says after a minute. “Let’s do our usual intros. But add your favorite card game in, then we’ll get started playing.”

Fundy starts without prompting. “I’m Fundy, I feel good. One good thing is that I slept 7 hours last night. One bad thing is that Tommy ate the last of the bread so I can’t make any more sandwiches. My favorite card game is spoons.”

Fundy, Charlie learns is a freak of nature and probably a masochist because only people who like playing spoons. That game is just asking for violence.

“My name is Sam. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I made brownies with Boomer so that bonding I guess. One Bad thing about my week is that…” Sam trails off like he’s considering something. “I had school all week.” He says finally. “My favorite card game is war.”

War? Who actually knows how to play war? Sam’s definitely not sane or normal.

Foolish starts next. “I’m Foolish, I feel okay. One good thing is that I got a new copy of the Lord of the Rings. One bad thing is that I’ve got a math test tomorrow. My favorite card game is go fish.”

Foolish, Charlie decides is normal and has a normal amount of knowledge about card games. Which is very little.

It’s Charlie’s turn next and he suddenly realizes he did not properly think his answer through. “I’m Charlie. I feel fine.” He finally spits out after a moment of silence.

He blanks on all the events of his week, good and bad. God Charlie hates being put on the spot.

“One good thing about my week is that I, um, got new glasses.” That is true he did do that. “One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been listening to my mom and aunt fight over where to have Hanukkah this year. My favorite card game is cards against humanity.”

Charlie has a totally normal favorite card game, it’s a funny game he plays with friends. Or it’s something like a favorite because Charlie doesn’t really have a favorite anything. Favorite things are for people who feel things, Charlie does feel things but he doesn’t think he feels them normally.

Quackity is oblivious to Charlie's panic because he continues with his introduction.

“My name is Quackity. I feel bored. One good thing is that I have no homework tonight. One bad thing is that we put up Christmas decorations and that took forever. My favorite card game is poker. I play it with my uncles.” Quackity says.

And while poker being his favorite definitely says something about Quackity, playing with his uncles is sort of sweet. Or at least for Quackity it’s sweet.

“Great job everyone, I’ll do my introduction while I deal us in.” Bad says, shaking a deck of Uno cards in his hand. “I’m Bad, I feel good. One good thing is that I finished a book I’ve been meaning to read. One bad thing is that Skeppy has to work late tonight so I won’t see him until later.”

That’s gay Charlie thinks off handly. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay! It was just really gay.

Bad continues on giving each person at the table seven Uno cards. “My favorite card game is Euchre. I play it with friends sometimes.” Bad finishes talking and dealing, he places the left over cards in the middle of the table before flipping one over.

The card bad flips is a red eight. Charlie’s has a hand that consists of a red three, six, and seven, a blue two and a yellow three, six, and draw two

“Who wants to start?” Bad asks.

“I will.” Charlie offers, placing his red three down.

Then like a pack of vultures chaos descends.

Quackity places down a blue three.

Bad skips Fundy.

Sam places down a draw 2

Foolish matches it.

And the first (definitely not last) argument of todays group session breaks out.

“Hey no stacking, use game rules!” Charlie says.

Fundy rapidly nods his agreement from across the table.

“No, no let’s stack, it makes it fun.” Quackity argues.

“We can take it to a vote.” Bad offers. “All in favor?”

Quackity, Sam, and Foolish all raise their hands and Bad nods.

“Alright majority rules.” Bad announces. “Stacking is allowed.”

Charlie lets out a playful groan.

It only gets worse from there with stacking allowed; at one point Quackity starts cursing them out rapidly after getting a train of 5 draw two cards.

Charlie laughs so hard he gets a stitch in his side.

He’s not the only one who seems to be genuinely enjoying himself either. Fundy is smiling wide and full of teeth. Every time he makes a good move he grins like he just caught the canary.

Foolish has a loud wheezing laugh that sounds like a windex bottle. He lets it out often and freely. Like a dolphin high of pufferfish toxins.

Quackity snorts when he laughs for longer than half a minute. He no longer looked embarrassed to let it out. Now he snorts and shoves Charlie hard each time Charlie skips him.

Bad had stopped saying language each bc time they swear, either because he has given up or because he’s just happy enough to let it slide.

Sam waves his hands around arguing the rules each time the rules they made up did not work in his favor. He laughs when they don’t let his debate keep up.

Charlie stops bouncing his leg under the table at some point. He’s not sure when. But at some point he lets himself relax in a room full of people who he is both the same and different from.

Despite being in a church basement doing group therapy Charlie can’t help but feel good.

It’s stranger than anything else.

~~~

Charlie no longer feels good. The wind is whipping as he stands at the front door of his house, keys in hand.

His house should not be so daunting, it’s a nice two story suburban thing that is not particularly menacing.

At one point Charlie did not look twice when entering his house. He hates that it changed. He hates that he can understand his parents and what they say and do. It’s strange to have someone you love and often do not like.

The door creaks open and Charlie closes it behind him, walking into the warm house.

His mother is perched on the sofa with her phone pressed to her face and her voice has that tone that only gossiping mothers can manage.

Charlie catches a bit of her side of whatever conversation she’s having.

“And Janis told me… her youngest……. Yes Abby! She’s a bisexual.” Charlie’s mother looks pleased as punch to be talking with someone, probably another mother from the temple.

“Yes and her oldest is a doctor. Just goes to show that no matter what you do as a parent; you can’t control how the kids turn out. I’ll tell you Elena.” So it is another temple lady then. He can vaguely picture Elena her husband and her three kids.

Charlie hates that poor Abby’s sexuality is something to be gossiped about so negatively. It’s such a stupid thing to gossip about. Such a useless thing to hate when it is nothing negative. Who gives a fuck who Abby likes.

When Charlie takes his shoes off his mother looks up smiling at him. “Hey baby. Your fathers in the den, your sisters in her room.”

Then Elena must say something because Charlie’s mother refocuses on her phone

“No, my son just got back from work.” She says like a liar.

It’s strange how much his mother loves to gossip but yet she can’t tell anyone the real reason Charlie’s never home.

Charlie walks upstairs to his room passing his sister's closed door on the way.

At the sound of Charlie’s footsteps her door opens and her head pops out.

“Hey.” She says.

“Hey.” Charlie echos a bit confused. He does not often talk to his sister if they aren’t arguing over who put what where. So her starting a conversation is unusual.

Charlie isn’t sure what to do.

“Let’s go talk in your room.” she says. Vaguely Charlie wants to argue, but his sister's tone of voice makes him listen.

He opens his door and lets her in before following behind her.

His bed, and the rest of his room, is messy. There are piles of homework and DND character sheets sprawled across his desk and clothes everywhere. It’s a pigsty.

She sits on the foot of his bed. Charlie sits at the head.

She looks at him for a minute before she says, “mom is ashamed of you, and dad thinks you're faking it.” It’s said matter of factly.

“Gee.” Charlie says his chest feeling tight with some emotion he doesn’t experience enough to name.

His sisters right of course Charlie knows it the same way she does. Their mother loves them the way that all mothers love their kids sure, but she can’t stand Charlie. Or the things wrong about Charlie. She’s much rather brag about his sister and her achievements.

His father might love them, maybe? He doesn’t show it. But he must love them. Fathers should love their children.

“I’m gay.” It’s rushed out like if she doesn’t say it she never will. “I’m gay and they’ll hate me. I see what they do to you. But I needed to tell someone.”

“Oh congrats.” Charlie says for lack of anything else.

“What congrats I’m gay?” She snarks

Charlie shrugs, his input isn’t really needed for this. So what his sisters gay?

“Yeah it’s cool.” He says awkwardly.

“It’s not really.” His sister stands glaring at him and gets ready to leave his room. Her peace said so she no longer needs him. This was more for her than for him.

They both know it too. Neither of them care though.

“Abby is gay too. I heard mom gossiping.” He says because some small part of him longs to be close with his sister. To talk to her like normal siblings.

“Yeah I know.” Her tone of voice is somewhat suggestive. Charlie nods his head knowingly. Like she let him in on some secret. She didn’t but it’s the thought that counts.

She finally turns to leave again and Charlie doesn’t bother stopping her. She turns around like she’s thought of something.

“If you tell anyone. I don’t care who. I’ll kill you.” She threatens him before tacking on three simple words Charlie hasn’t heard in a while. “I love you.”

Charlie’s door shuts behind her with a click.

Charlie stares at his wall trying to process what just happened. The wild thing is this isn’t even the strangest thing this week.

He no longer feels as cold and his house is not nearly as daunting as it was. It’s funny how that works.

Chapter Text

Foolish is absolutely miserable. He can hear Sapnap, Dream, and George arguing from his room. He presses his face a little harder into his pillow trying to block out the sounds of laughter and harmless fighting.

It’s not like the sounds particularly affect Foolish, no, he knows all that goes on in this house is harmless. At least for now that is.

Technically Foolish has no reason to believe that Puffy’s house is any different from any other house. He has no reason to believe it won’t end in shouted arguments so loud it makes his teeth rattle, that it won’t end in violence and fear.

But he also has no reason to believe it will. As scary as it is, nothing that has happened points to the house being like any others. Puffy is kind without being overbearing. She laughs loudly and unashamed, she makes sure they're fed, and even when Dream picks a fight with her and runs, she doesn’t get angry.

It’s horrifying in a way that Foolish can’t quite explain. Safety in the complete sense is so foreign he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to do with it.

He read a quote once about being born in a house on fire and only knowing flames, or something like that. Foolish thinks that Puffy’s house most definitely isn’t on fire. It’s a full warm heat sure, but the safe kind. The kind from warm smiles and blankets.

Foolish hates it and loves it in equal measure, afraid to lose it and afraid to indulge.

Right now though listening to the sounds through the floorboards, Foolish wishes he was anywhere else. Not because of the fighting but simply because of the noise it makes.

Football lifting had started back up after the short break from games. It had started back up today, meaning Foolish was tired and sore and wanted to sleep for the rest of forever.

Of course he can’t though. Not with group in only a few minutes. Not with the loud sounds of Dream and his friends coming up from the living room downstairs.

Foolish let’s out an audible groan before grabbing his phone and leaving his room. Foolish makes his way down the steps, his body protesting the whole way.

Before he walks into the living room bits of conversation become understandable.

“I don’t know, Quackity seems fun. In an asshole way sure. But he’s probably just like George.” That’s Sapnap’s voice.

Sapnap’s voice talking about Quackity. About Quackity being an asshole. Part of Foolish feels a brief flash of hot annoyance run through him, how dare Sapnap call Quackity an ass. Though it’s quickly replaced, Quackity is an ass, not a bad one though.

Foolish walks the rest of the way into the living room, his eyes taking in the scene in front of him. Dreams sprawled like a starfish in the carpet, George is laying on the couch with his feet in Sapnap’s lap. It’s a normal view after school.

“Why are you talking about Quackity?” Foolish can’t help but ask. Ignoring Dream’s groan about him eavesdropping.

“Sap has to sit next to him in English now. I think he’s a rude ass, Sapnap wants to befriend him.” George shrugs.

“Sapnap wants to kiss him, Sapnap only has two friends he didn’t befriend because he wanted to date them, me and Gogy.” Dream snickers.

“You know Quackity?” Sapnap asks, sounding surprised.

Foolish then remembers that even though they know that Foolish goes to group with Bad, they have no clue who else goes. Not that it’s Foolish’s place to tell them anyways.

“Somewhat.” He lies awkwardly. Thankfully though Sapnap has finally processed Dream’s words so Foolish is saved any further questioning.

“I do not only want to befriend people, I want to date jackass!” Sapnap shouts.

“Karl.” George deadpans, which Foolish doesn’t get but he doesn’t bother trying too.

While Sapnap tries and fails to defend himself Foolish puts his shoes on and gets ready to leave.

“I’m going to group!” He shouts to wherever Puffy is in the house before walking out the door and leaving.

Maybe if he’s lucky group will go quickly and he can take a nap in Sam’s truck on the way to the dinner.

~~~

On a very rare occasion luck seems to be on Foolish's side, when he walks into group Bad has set the folding chairs into a circle. Each chair has one of those white foam cups on it.

Charlie, who's already there, has the cup in his hand and seems to be tossing it up in the air and catching it.

Or trying to catch it because half the time it falls onto the floor with a clatter.

Bad is also sitting down already holding his own cup, though he’s holding it like a normal person. Bad is also next to a black portable drink dispense , one of the square black ones with the tap on the front.

Foolish wonders what today's thing off of the list is.

He doesn’t bother asking as he takes his seat, his body groaning in protest.

As it turns out he doesn’t have to wait long as the others begin to file into the room. Sam sits down besides Foolish and leans close enough that their knees touch.

Foolish has quickly come to learn that it’s Sam and Ponk’s joint way of asking if they're okay, or to offer quiet reassurance. It’s something that they both do with each other and more recently with Foolish. Secretly every time one of them does it to him it makes a bubble of warmth rise up in Foolish’s chest.

Foolish pushes his knee into Sam's, a silent reassurance that he’s okay.

One Quackity finally sits down. Bad stands up with his foam cup in hand.

“Alright everyone we’re having hot chocolate today! Isn’t that nice? Hot chocolate is a warm drink that warms you in and out. It’s nostalgic for winter time and it is so good too.” Bad starts.

So that explains what’s in the drink dispenser, hot chocolate. Foolish isn’t going to complain he’s a fan, not that he had the sweet drink often. It’s a good winter time drink though.

“I think that in a metaphorical sense we could all use some more warmth. Something to keep us safe from our frigid thoughts. But that’s enough of that you all know what I mean anyways. Hot chocolate is just another reason to enjoy life and enjoy living. Even if it’s something rather simple.” Bad smiles pleasantly. “Fundy, why don’t you start off our introductions, tell me if you like hot chocolate too.”

Fundy looks at his cup blankly for a second before he starts talking. “My name is Fundy. I feel good. One good thing is that I got called my mothers son by my grandmother so that was nice. One bad thing is that I had a panic attack over midterms coming up. I like hot chocolate somewhat. But if I have too much I don’t like it because it gets too sweet.” Fundy says, nodding his head.

Sam starts talking without any prompting. “I’m Sam. I feel decent, I guess. One good thing about my week is that I aced my pre calculus test. One bad thing about my week is that I have a test Friday in Spanish over grammar which sucks. I like hot chocolate, but only if it’s practically half whipped cream.” Sam says shrugging at the end.

Foolish is up next and he knows it too. As quickly as he can, Foolish tries to think of something good and bad that is both honest and a lie. Or not a lie but not too honest. Foolish feels like he spends a lot of his time in that gray space between the truth and something that’s not quite the truth.

The gray space is home anymore and Foolish uses it to cherry pick the words he says next.

“My name is Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I made salsa. One bad thing about my week is that I had to start a new chemistry unit right before midterms which sucks because I’ll have like no study time for midterms. I like hot chocolate but I don’t drink it a lot.

Bad has stood up and grabbed Fundy’s cup and filled it with hot chocolate and by the time that Foolish is done with his introduction Bad has grabbed Foolish’s cup as well.

“I’m Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my sister. One bad thing is that I feel asleep in math again. I like hot chocolate. It's pretty good.” Charlie says.

Bad give Foolish his cup back now filled with warm brown hot chocolate and little marshmallows. Foolish takes a drink and immediately regrets it. The drink is stealing hot and Foolish can feel his tongue burning. Taste buds screaming in pain.

Foolish stops drinking and begins to blow on the drink to cool it off.

“I’m Quackity.” Quackity starts handing his cup to Bad. “I feel bad. One good thing about my week is that I’m making Christmas cookies with my family this Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that I got a hole in my favorite pair of pants. I like hot chocolate but only at Christmas.”

Foolish takes another smaller, more normal temperature sip of his drink. It’s sweet and heavy in a way that only hot chocolate is. It’s nice Foolish thinks as the warmth travel through him.

“My name is Bad.” Bad starts filling his own cup and taking a drink with only minimal wincing from the heat. “I feel good. One good thing from my week is that I had my 15th anniversary dinner. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got to help a local high school out with grading their AP psychology essays.”

They spend the rest of group drinking hot chocolate and making idle chatter and conversation. It’s nice and peaceful, especially with the warmth spreading from the cup through his hands.

~~~

Foolish does end up getting his ten minutes of shut eye in Sam’s truck on the way to the dinner. While it does nothing to sooth his aching muscles or now burnt tongue it does make him feel a bit more alert.

The air outside of the diner is cold with housing wind and a dreary gray sky. Inside however is warm with heating and bright lights. The jukebox is playing some generic Christmas song or another. It’s entirely scenic.

What makes it even better however is Ponk sitting patiently in their usual booth, baskets of their usual food already sitting in their personally assigned spots.

All of it makes something warm rise in Foolish’s chest.

“Hey how was your thing?” Ponk asks, making an exaggerated grab for a French fry from Sam’s food.

“Fine.” Sam says not even bothering to stop them.

“We had hot chocolate.” Foolish adds on.

“With how cold it is I wish I did.” Ponk grins smiling.

“Don’t order a milkshake next time.” Foolish offers a solution he knows Ponk won’t take.

True to what Foolish knows Ponk sticks her tongue out at him.

Technically next week is the last week they need to meet at the diner. Their project is practically done and it gets turned in next Friday.

There’s no reason to continue this thing they do.

The idea makes Foolish feel strangely upset.

He sneaks a glance at Sam. Who’s already pulled out his own homework and is half heartedly working through it. Foolish takes it all in Sam’s green hair and freckles.

Then he stares at Ponk. Vibrante and smiling, with unmatched clothes and a perfectly content expression on his face.

Ponk makes eye contact with Foolish, green meeting brown. Then she raises an eyebrow.

“You see something you like?” They tease. Foolish snorts and takes a bite of his chicken.

Thankfully Ponk says nothing about the non answer.

“You think too much.” Sam says still not looking up. For a minute Foolish wonders which one of them he’s talking too.

“What are you thinking about?” Ponk inquires. Apparently Sam was talking about Foolish. That’s one mystery solved.

Foolish thinks about how he’s meant to answer such a loaded question. “Just very happy right now. I’m enjoying it.”

Ponk grins wider and Sam scrunches his nose.

“I knew we were friends.” Ponk says like he’s won something.

“Of course we are.” Foolish says in the same tone.

Sam kicks his foot under that table. Most likely aiming for one of them. “Cool, that's decided. You want to complete your art project so we can actually do something cool next week or?” He jokes.

Foolish can’t help the warmth that rises in him at the statement. Even when the project is done they’ll do this again. Hell Sam wants it to be done so they can just hang out like normal friends. It makes Foolish feel ecstatic.

Maybe todays not as miserable as he thought.

Chapter Text

Before Quackity even arrives at his English class he has a headache forming. Looming over his day like a storm cloud.

“Yo big Q!” Sapnap all but shouts waving at Quackity from where his sitting on George’s desk.

Quackity takes a quick look to make sure his teacher isn’t in the room, then flips Sapnap the bird.

Quackity ignores the overdramatic pout Sapnap gives him and continues heading to his desk. Once there Quackity throws his bag down and all but slams his head onto his desk, entirely planning to rush his way through the English midterm.

There are three sets of footsteps heading towards him. That is three way to fucking many.

Quackity is however expecting it when Sapnap slides into his seat next to him, Dream looming by his side and George perched on Sapnap’s desk.

“Can I help you?” Quackity asks anxious to get whatever this is over with.

“Yes.” Sapnap grins leaning in close. “Spend some time with us, Quackity. We’re trying to be friendly.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” Quackity counters.

Each conversation with Sapnap and his friends is like an increasingly complex game of chess. They make a move inching forward to whatever goal they have and Quackity scrambles to counter. All while trying to achieve his own goal, getting them to leave him alone. It’s a really shitty game of chess. Also Quackity has no clue how the fuck you okay chess.

Quackity couldn't even tell you who was losing anymore. He turns his head to face the other three from where it’s resting on his desk.

“Too bad.” George says shrugging. “You don’t get a choice. I’m not dealing with these dumbasses alone and you seem decent.”

“Gee, thanks.” Quackity drawls at the not quite complement.

“You're welcome.” George says just as sarcastically.

Dream who has long since given up on controlling his friends hums. “We’re going bowling tonight.” He says like that means anything to Quackity.

“You should come.” Sapnap adds looking very much too excited for the prospect of Quackity bowling with them.

“That sounds like a ploy to kill me, or jump me, or do what they do in Carrie to me.” Quackity says finally lifting his head off his desk.

“Do you always think of the worst case scenario?” George asks.

“It’s a skill.” Quackity counters forcing a self assured grin on his face.

“I promise we won’t. But umm…” Dream trails off his eyes, cutting to George, then Sapnap.”

“I don’t want to third wheel those two.” Sapnap mock pouts pointing at George and Dream.

“Karl’s coming.” Dream says, his brows furrowing.

“You won't be a third wheel because we aren’t dating, freak.” George snaps.

Sapnap rolls his eyes at points at his friends in a ‘get a load of these two’ gesture.

“Besides we’ve been hanging out with you since Sap moved seats. That makes us friends.” Dream says.

“Yeah a judging by how few people you talk too, we’re you only friends.” George says voice deadpan.

Quackity opens his mouth to argue that he has friends, but George cuts him off. “And because we are your only friends you’ll hang out with us Friday.”

“You’re killing me Friday, admit it.” Quackity demands.

None of them answer him and instead Sapnap opens his phone to his contacts and thrusts it at Quackity. “Put your number in so we can make plans.” He demands.

Quackity wants to argue, but this seems like a way to end this conversation and the block button exists for a reason, so he grabs the phone.

After putting his number in he gives Sapnap his phone back just in time for the class bell to ring.

George and Dream scramble back to their desk just in time for the teacher to walk in her heels clicking.

“Alright class, let's discuss our midterms.” She says with an enthusiasm that has to be faked, while clapping her hands together.

Quackity bunkers in to get ready to speed run the rest of the class, because how hard can it really be? The answer is probably not very hard.

Then Quackity’s phone lights up, a text blocking the image of ducks at a pond in the local park that is Quackity’s Lock Screen is covered by a text.

A text from an unknown number that simply reads. ‘Kinoko arcade and bowling at five. Dream is paying for our pizza because he’s a Simp.’

Another text follows it
‘PS this is your best friend Sapnap.’ And several kissy face emojis.

Quackity takes a screenshot of Sapnap’s freshly made contact, then circles the block button, before sending Sapnap the screenshot.

Then Quackity turns off his phone, stupidly thinking that would be the end of that. Sapnap, Dream, and George get to laugh about inviting the friendless freak to do something, and Quackity gets to not show up to what’s probably a trap of some kind. A win for him and a win for them.

It’s not the end of that. Instead, after English Sapnap for some reason adds Quackity to a group chat and proceeds to make him talk to them.

It’s stupid. That they are acting like Quackity is actually their friend. It’s stupid and definitely a trap of some kind.

Bowling boys

Sapnap:
Say hi Q

+1 926-816-9264:
Hi Q

+1 083-926-8362:
Not you dumbass

+1 928-072-8626:
Don’t be a dick Georgie ps it’s Dream

+1 083-926-8362:
Die

+1 926-816-9264:
Kinky
I’m Karl btw whoever Q is

Sapnap:
He’s our friend from English who’s going bowling with us

Quackity:
Definitely not your friend actually

Sapnap:
He’s in denial

Karl:
You can’t kidnap people guys

George:
I think I should be able to do whatever I want actually

Dream:
So true. retweet. Vouch

Sapnap:
Simp

Karl:
Simp

Quackity:
Do any of you ever pay attention in class

George:
No

Quackity:
You should try it. Might make you smarter

Sapnap:
So mean Q

Quackity:
Yup.

Karl:
Damn punctuation and everything. This guy really doesn’t like you guys.

Quackity:
I don’t. I have never once started a conversation with them.

Karl:
That means I’m automatically your favorite

Sapnap:
Karl what the fuck.

Dream:
That’s fine I’m George’s favorite

George:
No Karl’s my favorite.

“Excuse me, Mr. Halo, pay attention to what I’m saying. It is important.” Their teacher snaps. Interrupting her explanation of how the grade will be curved

Quackity quickly turns his phone off and puts it away. It’s not like any of this actually matters anyways.

It really isn’t his problem. It’s not like he’s actually going to go anyways.

~~~

Quackity’s headache is fully formed by the time his dad tells him to get in the car to go to group.

He wants to argue that he’s in pain and he can’t but he also knows that arguing won’t do shit, so he doesn’t bother.

Instead he gets in his dad's beat up blue car and mentally prepares himself to deal with group therapy and all of its connotations.

“How was school today?” His dad asks as they drive.

“Fine. Some assholes thought it’d be funny to ask me to hangout tonight as a joke.” Quackity shrugs.

“Don’t swear.” His father says off handedly. “Did they tell you it was a joke?” He asks.

“No.” Quackity says. “I knew it though. Why would they mean it.”

“Maybe they just wanted to hang out. You should go.” His dad says.

“I’d rather die.” Quackity says ignoring the way his father cringes.

“I think you should go. It could be good for you.” His dad says before adding. “You're going.”

“What don't I get a choice?” Quackity snaps.

“No you don’t. I'm your father. Have fun at group.” His father says. Which makes Quackity notice that they had arrived at their destination.

Quackity angrily gets out of the car and slams the door behind him with little care for the consequences he may get later.

Quackity storms into the church then down into the hell joke of a basement before he takes his usual folding chair seat angrily. At least there’s no table set up today.

Maybe today will be somewhat tolerable. Ha. What a joke.

The others shuffle in taking their own seats, but once all of them arrive Bad stands up and starts walking around the circle handing each of them something in turn. Though from where he’s at Quackity can’t tell what it is that Bad’s handing them.

Finally Bad stops in front of Quackity and holds out a colorful thing to him. Quackity grabs it out of Bad’s hand and inspects it. It’s a pink piece of laffy taffy. What type of crack does Bad smoke?

Quackity stares at the piece of candy in his hand as Bad takes his seat and begins to talk.

“We’re doing the jokes on Laffy Taffy wrappers today for our number on the list. I thought that this one seemed easy and fun. Besides I think we all need a bit more good clean humor in our lives. Anything that can brighten your day no matter how small is important.” Bad says before grinning and adding on. “Plus candy and sugar always make our days a little better. Even if it isn’t the healthiest.”

“So we’ll do our introductions, with our favorite candy added onto the end. Then we’ll go around and read the joke on our candy wrapper. After that you guys are free to eat the taffy and leave. Sounds good?” Bad’s question on the end is rhetorical.

“Sure.” Fundy says because he apparently pityies Bad.

“I’m Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I broke out and wore the concealer I got at the dollar store and didn’t feel anything.” And wow Quackity is shocked by the honesty. “One bad thing about my week is that Phil’s been looking into fostering another kid and room arrangements are gonna be moved around. My favorite candy is skittles.”

“That’s gay.” Quackity tells him because it’s important and Fundy needs to know.

“It is but the rainbow is peanut free.” Fundy shrugs.

“Be nice, Quackity.” Bad says before telling Sam it’s his turn.

“My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing is that I'm already done with exams because my last two classes are study halls. One bad thing is that I lost my water bottle at school. My favorite candy is warheads.” Sam says.

Charlie turns to give Sam a bewildered look.
“You are just coming out and telling all of us you're a masochist, huh?” He asks Sam.

“What you too much of a baby for a little bit of sour candy.” Sam counters.

“Kinda gay to call another man baby.” Foolish jokes before starting his own introduction. “I’m Foolish, I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I aced my art midterm. One bad thing about my week is that it is midterm week. My favorite candy is snickers.”

“You like nuts huh.” Quackity says without thinking.

“I mean…” Foolish trails of joking.

“Language. All of you. Just- Charlie go.” Bad says with a sigh.

“My name is Charlie and I feel stressed. One good thing is that there is only one more day until winter break. One bad thing is that I have my pre-calculus midterm tomorrow. My favorite candy is candy corn.” Charlie says and Quackity quickly reevaluates any previous options on Charlie.

“You're a freak.” Quackity tells him honestly before starting his own introduction. “I’m Quackity I feel whatever. One good thing is that I am binge watching Pokémon on Amazon video.” Charlie lets out an excited noise at that. “One bad thing is that I keep getting stress headaches. My favorite candy is cotton candy. I don’t care if it doesn’t count.”

Bad looks almost relieved when there is no extra comment.

“Alright I’m Bad I feel good. One good thing about my week is that it’s almost Friday. One bad thing about my week is that one of our pictures fell off the wall and shattered. My favorite candy is just normal chocolate.” Bad carefully unwraps the Laffy Taffy in his hand. “The joke is; what do you call a button that can’t unbutton?” Bad reads aloud.

He pauses. None of them say anything.

“You belly button.” Bad forces himself to laugh. No one else does anything. Bad let’s out a defeated sigh “Alright just read the jokes and leave you muffinheads.” Bad laughs a smile tugging at his lips

Fundy reads his quickly. “Why does Waldo wear stripes? He doesn’t want to be spotted.” Fundy pops the pink taffy in his mouth afterwards.

Sam unwraps a yellow taffy “what kinds of shoes do frogs wear? Open toed.” He hands Foolish the yellow taffy and shrugs. “Boomer will get it I’m sure. He likes frogs.”

Foolish chews on the taffy Sam handed him before asking. “You don’t get it?”

“Do you?” Quackity countered feeling lost. Because really what the fuck does that joke mean? Is Quackity just missing something obvious?

“Nah. Anyways my joke is what do you call a happy cowboy? A jolly rancher.” Foolish reads out before snorting.

“That’s actually a good one.” Charlie says, opening his own wrapper excitedly, “why do bananas have to put on sunscreen?” Charlie asks before pausing, obviously waiting for a response.

After a beat Quackity cracks. “I don’t know Charlie.” He indulges. “Why do they?”

“Because they might peel.” Charlie grins.

Quackity snorts, unwrapping his own pink wrapper. “Ahem.” He says dramatically. “ How does a tree go home when it’s ready?” He reads. “It leaves.”

Fundy cackles at Quackity’s deadpan tone of voice. Before they all get up in a rush and begin to leave.

Quackity’s thoughts leave the building no longer concerned with what’s going on around him. Instead he begins to think up ways to get out of going bowling. After all it has to be some sort of cruel joke, one Quackity doesn’t plan to be a part of.

Even as his phone buzzes with a text message reminding him to be there.

Chapter Text

Fundy has never much enjoyed the holiday season. There were many reasons for that of course, some more substantial than others.

At first when he was young and obvious it was because he thought he had been some horrible kid, to almost never get gifts that weren’t Wilbur’s hand-me-down clothes. Later as he grew older he would realize that it was because of his parents' other more expensive habits that they never had enough money for material things such as Christmas gifts.

Of course also on the rare occasion they could afford gifts for Fundy and Wilbur, Fundy would get gifts that were distinctly for girls. Well now that Fundy is older and better educated he knows that toys are toys and there’s no such thing as girl toys or boy toys. But as a kid they were girl toys, and for a very long time Fundy could not put into words why he didn’t like girl toys, he definitely did not like them however. Which always put a damper on the rare occasion he got gifts.

So even while Fundy was young he was never one for Christmas. But that feeling had only grown as he got older.

He suddenly understood exactly why his parents couldn’t afford to buy him and Wilbur gifts. Understanding that of course made him resent his parents for a very long time, making the mood around the holidays tense and downright hostile.

But then suddenly a social worker decides right on Christmas eve that Wilbur and Fundy just could not stay with their parents. That’s another reason to hate the holiday season- it's what started the domino effect that ruined Fundy’s life.

However even now as Fundy has grown and matured he hates the holidays. Mainly because of the fact Sally and Phil agree that it’s best if Fundy spends each and every federal holiday with Phil and his family.

Which is miserable because Fundy has to deal with Wilbur and his scheming, Phil and Kristin’s relatives and all the comments that they not so subtly throw at Fundy. He also has to deal with the same feeling of wrong he got around holidays in his youth.

Not for the same reasons of course, no that’s one thing Phil and Kristin and both are very good about, making sure Fundy’s gender is validated. But instead because Fundy can help but feel like he doesn’t belong there. He ruins the photo of a family of two kind people and their three happy thankful kids, because Fundy isn’t thankful. And he ruins Wilbur’s idea of putting the past behind him.

And there’s more of course more reasons why Fundy hates the holidays and the feeling of wrong that comes with it, but most of them are nonsense.

But Fundy is also aware enough of everyone else’s feelings to keep his mouth shut. Why ruin it for others when you can stew in silence? That should be Fundy’s life motto.

It’s probably not a healthy motto to have but whatever. Who's gonna stop him? Bad? Fundy simply won’t tell him.

Wow Fundy is really bad at this whole therapy thing.

Speaking of therapy half an hour ago Bad had sent a text and the others had responded but Fundy hadn’t found the will to open the text and see what holiday themed torture awaited him today.

Bad:
[one image attachment sent]
Imagine ID: six of the make your own gingerbread house kits

Foolish:
I am going to beat all of you at this

Charlie:
To death !?!?
Shock

Sam:
Sounds good Bad.
Sounds fake Foolish I will beat your ass :)

Quackity:
I’m eating the walls.

Fundy clicks his phone off with knowledge gained. They are making gingerbread houses today. In all fairness it could be worse.

~~~

Sally drops Fundy off at the church with little fanfare. Telling him to have fun before speeding off to head to her next appointment before she’s late. It’s what they do every other Thursday at this point. Or every Thursday if Fundy absolutely cannot bear to stay at Phil’s house.

The church is decorated for Christmas but Fundy pays the decor little mind. He could care less about it.

The church basement and what’s set up in it however does get Fundy’s attention. Bad has set up the folding table and chairs again and put one kit in front of each seat.

On Fundy’s way into the basement he has to pass Bad who’s talking to someone on his phone. Fundy nods his head when Bad smiles at him.

Charlie and Quackity are already there and sitting talking to one another. Or Charlie’s talking and Quackity is listening.

Charlie stops and waves at Fundy as he sits down, before resuming the conversation. Charlie does this each time one of the others filter into the basement and sit down.

It’s nice. A simple positive acknowledgment of each of them.

Sam comes in and waves back at Charlie while sitting in his own seat and Foolish does the same when he joins them later.

Once Foolish arrives Bad comes back from where he was previously taking a phone call just outside the entrance of the basement.

“Alright, it looks like everyone’s here. We can go ahead and get started then.” Bad says smiling while he takes the only other empty seat.

“The plan for today is for me to introduce our activity, then we’ll do our introductions, then build the gingerbread houses, and finally we’ll show them off and group will be done for the day after that. Sounds good to everyone?” Bad asks.

They all mumble their general agreement. It’s half hearted at best but it doesn’t stop Bad, who just nods his head once and smiles at each of them in turn before starting his usual talk about however what their doing connects to why life is just so great, and they shouldn’t kill themselves, and whatever else.

“I know not all of us here celebrate Christmas but I think building gingerbread houses is just a fun thing to do, holiday or not. Houses need a good foundation to build off of and a strong structure, if they are made of gingerbread or not.” Bad start’s gesturing to the kit in front of him.

“We also need a good foundation of wanting to get better to build off of before we can get better, we have to want to heal. And then we need to build a strong support to help us do that, which is the point of this group.” Bad adds on.

“From there we get to learn and customize how we heal. Experimenting and learning what works best for us. Just like we customize and design the houses. I’m sure once all of us are finished with ours each one will look different. Because we all heal differently there is no right or wrong way as long as you are trying. Plus it’s definitely sweet to love life.” Bad grins at his pun, obviously proud of himself.

“Let’s start our introductions so we can get to building our gingerbread houses. Let’s add on our favorite holiday tradition, it doesn’t matter what holiday. I’ll start.” Bad says pausing for a moment to think.

After a minute or two Bad starts. “My name is Bad. I feel happy. One good thing about my week is that I finished wrapping all my gifts for Christmas. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been so cold lately, and the cold always puts me in a bit of a sad mood. My favorite holiday tradition is that every year on Christmas eve my family and I read the night before Christmas before we go to bed.”

Already knowing how it goes, Fundy starts his introduction next. “I’m Fundy. I feel…'' several words come to mind. Fundy settles on a surprisingly honest one. “Anxious. One good thing about my week is that I got to spend all of yesterday with my mom. One bad thing about my week is that the holidays are coming up and those always bring a lot of emotions. My favorite holiday tradition is making cookies with my mom, it’s one of the few we had when I was younger.”

Bad smiles at Fundy’s honesty. “Thanks for sharing Fundy! I also enjoy making holiday cookies. Your turn Sam.” Bad says.

“My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that it’s Hanukkah so I’ve been eating good food. One bad thing about my week is that there’s been loads of fights between my family because we’re all in one spot. My favorite holiday tradition is probably making latkes with my mom.” Sam says

Foolish doesn’t need any prompting to start. “I’m Foolish and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got to sleep in all week. One bad thing about my week is that I’m pretty nervous about the holidays. I don’t really have any traditions.” Foolish says shrugging like he hasn’t just said something that even Fundy finds sad.

Bad opens his mouth like he wants to make a comment but Charlie saves Foolish from his fate. “I’m Charlie and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that like what Sam said it’s Hanukkah and one bad thing about my week is that my D&D campaign ended. My favorite holiday tradition is playing dreidel with my sister and cousins.”

“My name is Quackity and I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that I finished a book. One bad thing about my week is that some people got my number and have been missussing that privilege.” Quackity shoots Bad a look that might mean something but Fundy has no clue what. “My favorite holiday tradition is kicking my cousins asses at wii tennis.”

“Language Quackity.” Bad sigh shaking his head. “Alright, half an hour to decorate your houses. We’ll vote on the best one at the end.” Bad says putting on welcome to nightvale and opening his own kit.

Each of their kits is pretty simple, four gingerbread walls with little dents in the cookie for windows and a door, two gingerbread roofs with little shingles, a bag of white royal icing, gum drops, those small hard colorful candy circles, a piping bag with a metal tip and a few pepermints. Bad also have each of them a plastic knife to use and a paper plate to build the house on.

Fundy focouses in on his task of building the house and zones the rest of the world out.

First he cuts a corner of the bag of icing before putting it into the piping bag with a small tip, then he uses the icing to connect all four walls and the roof.

From there Fundy gets to do whatever he wants with the house. It’s a lot of freedom. Or we’ll not a whole lot but it still feels nice.

He pipes icing into the dents for the windows and doorway to make them pop, before using what’s left to pipe the outline of each shingle on the roof.

From there Fundy uses one of the small hard candies to make a doorknob and to put at the junction of each shingle. One of the peppermints is used to put above the door like a wreath and the others are placed on the sides like bushes. It’s not the best gingerbread house in the world but it could definitely be worse.

By the time Fundy finishes his house there about two minute of waiting before Bad announces that times up and it’s time for them to show off their houses, vote on the best, then leave.

Bad shows his off first turning his plate around to reveal a well decorated house. Green gumdrops make a wreath above the door and bushes by the window. The doors and windows are woulines in multicolored round candies and bits of icing make icicles that hang off the roof.

Fundy turns his around next making little jazz hands around it just to be different.

Sam does his next which looks similar to Fundy but Sam’s roof is made almost entirely out of half gum drops that make multicolored shingles.

Foolish’s house is like Bad’s but with bricks drawn on the walls with icing and a snowman made out of vertical peppermints on the plate.

It’s cute and very intricate for the thirty minutes they had.

Charlie’s house is a mess. None of his icing lines are straight, his gum drops line the outside of the house and the candy circles are put in the junction where the roof pieces meet each other and the walls meet. It’s very Charlie and Fundy can’t help but somewhat enjoy it because of that.

Quackity’s house is like Sam’s but instead of gum drop half’s for the shingles Quackity just used peppermints and used the candy circles to outline the windows and doors.

“Alright.” Bad starts once they all finish showing off their houses with varying levels of enthusiasm. “Any opinions on who did best?”

“Charlie did.” Quackity says sounding shockingly genuine.

“Foolish.” Fundy says

“I’ve got to agree with Fundy.” Sam says. “Foolish try harded.”

“I like Foolish’s snowman.” Charlie agrees.

“I’m a fan of Bad’s house. It’s nice.” Foolish says grinning at the praise he’s being given.

“Thank you Foolish. But it seems we have a clear winner. Good job Foolish. And good job to the rest of you for trying your best and creating something positive. Your free to take these home and enjoy.” Bad grins.

“Who actually eats gingerbread?” Charlie asks, standing up and grabbing his house.

“Wilbur does.” Fundy says because it’s true his brother is a freak.

“I’m putting an hit out on your brother.” Quackity says. “Later losers.”

“Later Q.” Foolish calls snorting before grabbing his house and Sam’s, then leaving.

Fundy waits until Charlie is also ready to leave before he does because why walk alone when he could walk with Charlie?

Maybe the two could talk about something, Fundy isn’t sure what but holding a conversation with Charlie doesn’t sound that bad.

Chapter Text

Sam is glad when the holidays are over. Not that he doesn’t enjoy them, we’ll he does and he hates them in equal parts. But he’s glad that the chaos of the season is over.

For the entirety of Hanukkah he spent his days either at his grandparents house or his aunt’s apartment or his own home juggling his family. His aunts comments about his hair, and how he’ll never get a girl looking the way he does. His Nan with her steady fast ideals and just all the rest of the connotations about the holidays.

But to be fair Sam also enjoys the holidays and the time he spends with his family. Plus there is the nostalgia of the holidays and the traditions that he can’t bring himself to dislike.

Even celebrating Christmas for the first time probably ever with Kevin, Hannah, and Boomer was outright enjoyable, bad music and all.

And of course the most prominent reason he enjoyed the holidays is that they were what finally made his father pull off another disappearing act. On the 16th he just disappeared off of Kevin’s couch taking his shit with him, and Sam could not have been more thankful for that.

But of course he didn’t leave forever, no there’s no way Sam gets that lucky. Instead two days ago he reappeared, citing his fear of Sam’s grandmother’s as his reason for leaving. He came back grinning like he was welcome the moment he knew she was gone and Sam hates him for it.

Kevin is a saint, Sam has begun to realize this, not only because of the fact that he loved Fran enough to integrate her and her son into his family, or even because of the fact that despite him not quite knowing how to talk to Sam, Kevin has never treated him any differently than his actual kids. No he’s a saint because he lets Sam's father stay on his couch all because he’s under the misconception that it is something helpful.

Sam really wishes Kevin wasn’t such a good guy.

“I really don’t see where your mother or that man gets off letting you two do this to your hair.” Sam’s father says eyeing both Sam and Boomer with equal amounts of annoyance.

Boomer had come downstairs to breakfast this morning with his hair bleached platinum blond. Then more recently he came down with it dyed a stark white. It suits him well enough with his slightly shaggy hair, but for some reason Sam’s father thinks any of this concerns him.

“Probably because it’s our body and we can do what we want with it.” Boomer says sarcastically, not bothering to look up from where he’s making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Did no one teach you respect?” Sam's father sounds pissed so Sam steps in.

“Boomer is perfectly respectful to those who have earned it.” Sam cuts in doing his best to keep his tone even. “And you are not his father. So frankly you have no right to make any comments on his appearance.”

“You’ve got some lip on you, huh.” Sam’s father snaps. “I am your father however and shit like this just further cements my thoughts that you need a more stable figure in your life.”

The sentiment might be there if the wording were any different, if Sam was still stupid enough to believe anything his father says, if he still waited for him each time he left. But it’s not so, Sam doesn’t bother batting an eye at his fathers words.

“I have two perfectly stable figures in my life now that mom has married Kevin but whatever. Just leave Boomer alone yea?” Sam snaps. His phone buzzes in his pocket giving him the perfect out.

Bad:
We are sharing our favorite fun facts today! So bring one to share :)

Quackity:
I can think of several

Bad:
Only PG

Charlie:
Bad shut that right down

Quackity:
I can’t ever have any fun

Sam shuts his phone off racking his brain for a fun fact. That’s such a vague term, what makes a fact different from a fun fact? If Bad wants them to be PG what does that make the perimeters of their facts?

Sam leaves the living room hoping that his father will leave Boomer the fuck alone. Instead he goes into his room and flops into bed.

After ten minutes of drawing blanks in the way that Sam always does when people ask him vague questions like this, Sam gives up.

Usually when people do shit like this it’s when they are asking him to share facts about himself, and honestly Sam usually just lies. It’s easier that way. But a fun fact can be a lie really. Otherwise it’s not a fact.

Sam pulls his phone back out and opens his text thread with Ponk reading the last message over. It’s Ponk asking Sam his opinion on two different shirts to wear to a family dinner where they wanted to look quote unquote normal.

Sam:
Ponkie I need a favor

Ponk:
What’s up stupid

Sam:
List me some fun facts

Ponk:
Okay?
Why?
You know what I don’t care why.

Sam:
Thanks :eyes:

Ponk:
Google says: Most people cannot lick their elbows.
You cannot sneeze with your eyes open.
The Olympics used to give medals for art, not just sports.
A jar of Nutella is sold every 2.5 seconds.
French fries are Belgian, not French.

Sam:
None of these are very fun

Ponk:
I mean this so nicely. Find your own facts then bitch

Sam:
Sigh. Foolish would never do me like this

Ponk:
He’d be worse :)

Sam:
Yeah and. I’ve got to go find some facts then. I’ll talk to you later

Ponk:
Sigh I’ll wait for you like a war window
*widow

Sam snorts switching to safari and resigning himself to a day of actually having to do work for himself. Distantly he can hear the front door open and his mom get home, furthermore he can almost hear the argument that is sure to brew between her and Sam’s father.

~~~

Sam is surprisingly the last one to arrive to the basement of the church, everyone else is already sitting in a folding chair. There’s no table this week, just six folding chairs in a circle.

Bad smiled when Sam arrived standing up to start his whole therapist bit.

“Alright everyone, this week's topic is that every day is a new learning experience!” Bad starts “each day we can learn more and yet this new information can put different things into a brand new perspective. Each new thing we learn about ourselves or the world around us, big or small, is a new piece of an ever expanding puzzle that changes with us. If we stop learning or experiencing the puzzle is left half formed and we will never see the full picture. The picture is what rewards us at the end. It’s what we continue to live for, that moment of understanding of our lives. Most importantly the puzzle is why we should continue to live, to expand it with each new fact.”

Bad takes a breath after his explanation, before he once again smiles at each of them in turn and nods in a self satisfied way.

“Now onto our introductions, we’ll do, our names, how we feel, one good thing from your week, one bad thing from your week, and your favorite fun fact.” Bad says.

Quackity who has sat somewhat quietly this entire time finally makes the snappish comment Sam has been waiting for “what if we all just use the same fun fact to get this over with?”

Bad considers the question before responding simply. “Then we’ll keep sharing facts until you all have a different one. Making sure it does not end quickly.”

“Now I’ll start. My name is Bad, I feel good. One good thing about my week is that this is my first day back to work after my holiday break. One bad thing about my week is that Skeppy has gotten into some new rock band and it’s the only music playing in our house currently. My fun fact is that some parrots have been observed to use date pits as tools to grind down cockle shells so that they can ingest the calcium supplement it makes.” Bad says looking a bit happier than Sam would imagine to share his fun fact.

“Do you like parrots, Bad?” Quackity asks. “I thought you had a dog named Rat.”

“I do like parrots and I have a dog called Rat, though her real name is Lucy. But we also have a pair of parrots. Strawberry and Blueberry are their names!” Bad shares.

“Her real name is Lucy?” Quackity asks shocked. “Why would you call her Rat then?”

Sam nods his head along to the new information from Bad silently enjoying the dictation behind ‘a pair of parrots.’

Fundy starts his introduction next. “I’m Fundy and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I’m with my mom this week and we are celebrating Christmas Friday. One bad thing about my week is that I’m getting bored just lounging around. My fun fact is that foxes obviously have super good hearing but they can hear a watch ticking from 36 meters away and even hear rodents digging underground.”

“They have to make use of those big ears somehow.” Bad laughs. “Maybe talk to your mother and Phil if you hate the custody agreement this much though, communication is key!”

Fundy mumbles something that might have been an agreement or complaint and Sam bites the bullet.

“My name is Sam. I feel okay, one good thing about my week is that I got one of those Lego botanical sets for Hannakuh and I put that together. One bad thing from my week is that my fathers back.” Sam does his best to say that but casually, not willing to go into too great of detail about it. “My fun fact is, pistachios aren’t nuts, they are drupes. Which according to Google is a fleshy tree fruit containing a shell-covered seed.”

Foolish shoots Sam a look that lets him know that Foolish is definitely snitching to Ponk later but Bad also has something to say. “Your fathers staying with you again? I didn’t realize he left.”

After a beat Sam realizes no one is saving him from this conversation and he sucks it up. “He left for the holidays because my grandmother would have killed him and used his body to fertilize her tomatoes, he came back after the holidays ended.”

Perfect, blunt, to the point and not inviting further conversation.

After a minute of awkward silence Foolish cracks

“My name is Foolish and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I had a really good Christmas with Puffy, like my best one ever. One bad thing about my week is I had to deal with Dream being in a weird mood about something. My fun fact is that sharks do not have bones!”

“I’m glad you had a good Christmas Foolish! Hopefully Dream feels better.” Bad says simply before moving onto Charlie’s introduction.

“My name is Charlie and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I got to really relax now that Hanukkah is over. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling super tired lately for some reason. My fun fact is that there is an even number of rows in every cob of corn. The average number of kernels in a 16-row cob of corn is 800.” Charlie says matter of factly.

“Do you know why you’ve been feeling so tired lately?” Bad asks.

“No clue. Probably just the holidays catching up to me.” Charlie shrugs.

Quackity saves them from another awkward silence by just starting his introduction. “I’m Quackity and I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been eating really good food. One bad thing about my week is that my aunt has been all up in family business lately. My fun fact is that baby ducks communicate with each other even before they hatch because they are super social, they even try to hatch at the same time.”

“I’m sure your aunt has good intentions and do not be afraid to set clear boundaries for her. Baby ducks are so cute too!” Bad says smiling. “Good session today. I’ve learned a lot about each of you and you guys are free to leave.”

Sam stands up waiting for Foolish to stand as well before he walks to the door. The two of them have already made Ponk wait long enough and Sam personally can’t wait for a nice quiet dinner with friends after the long day he’s had.

Even if Foolish does end up snitching.

Chapter Text

Foolish really enjoyed the holiday season this year, Christmas, new years the whole lot of it was surprisingly good.

Just another reason that Foolish should be grateful for Puffy.

Usually in foster care the holidays are nothing special, in group homes any gifts you end up getting are ‘generously’ donated by people who just want to feel good about giving to the less fortunate. Those gifts tend to be old toys that the older kids have no care for, which is good for the younger kids, but other than that it’s mostly coats that never fit right.

On the few occasions Foolish has been in a placement during Christmas it ended one of two ways. Either one the family were nice people who did want a kid but never quite knew what to get and got Foolish gift cards, which he was grateful for. Or two they saw foster kids as some sort of subhumans and didn’t bother getting them anything, Foolish expected this.

But with Puffy it was entirely different. She did the whole shebang, they made holiday cookies together and frosted them, they made a trip out to buy gifts, and Puffy even played up the whole Santa thing for Tubbo. Though Foolish is almost positive the eight year old knows that Santa isn’t real, but it’s the thought that counts.

Even after all that when they got up on Christmas Day underneath the tree that they had decorated together, there were way more gifts than expected wrapped in three different designs of wrapping paper. It was the type of thing Foolish had dreamed of as a kid. It was the type of this Foolish never thought he’d get.

Though of course Foolish wasn’t the only one basking in the new found wonder of the holidays. Tubbo had been all but bouncing off the walls and doing each tradition like it was something sacred. He even went along with the Santa thing, saying that it was something he never got to do with his own parents.

The deep dark horrible part of him that Foolish did his best to push down was terribly jealous of Tubbo. Who was still young enough that his hyper activity around the holidays was still cute and his excitement and enthusiasm was understandable. He was still young enough to be cute and wanted.

But Foolish did his best to kill that part of him and match Tubbo’s excitement and help out Puffy where necessary. He even did his best to counter balance whatever weird mood Dream was in.

While Foolish knew that Dream was weird, the holidays seemed to only make him weirder. Since Thanksgiving he has only been more irritable and snappish, alternating between sticking close to Puffy like some sort of leech or snapping at all of them to leave him alone. He did not run off thankfully but he did stop hanging out with his friends around the house instead going to Bad’s.

Foolish has no clue what caused his weird mood but he did his best to avoid it or distract Tubbo with something else. After all, the kid didn’t deserve to lose any of Puffy’s attention or get snapped at by Dream for no reason.

But sadly there was very little Foolish could do to keep Puffy from Dream’s weird mood. Forcing her to take the brunt of it while also giving all of them quite frankly the best holiday ever as far as Foolish is concerned.

Though Foolish is pretty sure that Dream's weird mood somehow infected Puffy as well because she had been acting off recently as well.

Puffy had begun to take phone calls in secret and instead of having one of them get the mail she has made a point that she’ll get it. It was weird but not weird enough that Foolish really did more than take notice of how strange it was.

Foolish did his best not to think of it too hard though because he was fully aware that if he did he would begin to spiral. Thinking of the worst possible outcome and he’d end up freaking out in a way that wouldn’t do any one any good.

So instead Foolish focused on how good the holidays were and how he’s finally made the kind of Christmas memories that people always talk about so fondly.

He also spent a lot of time texting with Sam and Ponk, they even kept up their usual Thursday dinners even without the push of the art project.
They kept doing it just because they were friends.

So even Dream's weird mood couldn’t put Foolish down. Not when he finally had a good holiday and he finally has good friends.

~~~

Foolish stares blankly at the tote sitting on the folding table in the church basement. The chairs had been sat around the table when Foolish arrived and the tote was sat menacingly in the middle of the table.

The tote is see through plastic so Foolish can very clearly see the already opened tubes of play dough. There are about 20 different tubes and a crap ton of colors.

Sam kicks his ankles when Foolish sits down.

“What did I do now?” Foolish asks because it’s a perfectly valid thing to ask after being kicked.

“I’m sure you’ve done something.” Sam shrugs.

“You two are disgusting.” Quackity spits taking his own seat.

“Oh no. Healthy friendships.” Sam drawls mockingly.

“Aren’t you friends with Dream and his friends?” Foolish asks because he’s definitely heard Dream and Sapnap talking about Quackity before. “You guys probably act like this.”

“We aren’t friends. They just hang around like flies.” Quackity says

“Who isn’t friends?” Charlie asks, sitting down as well.

“Quackity and Foolish’s foster brother apparently.” Sam shrugs.

“Alright everyone.” Bad says cutting off their conversation. “Let’s get started. We’re gonna play with playdough today! After half an hour we’ll show off what we made and do our introductions.”

“We’re letting our creativity run wild and creating whatever we see in our minds' eyes. This helps us put our thoughts into something tangible. I think this is a healthy way to help cope. We can create and destroy the thoughts that hurt us. So that’s what we’ll do today! Make something that has a negative effect on you and after we show them off, we’ll crush them.” Bad sounds way too excited at the prospect of destroying something.

“Why do you have all this play dough?” Fundy asks as Bad takes the lid off the tote.

“I’m a children’s therapist as well. Play therapy like this is very helpful. So of course I have some play dough.” Bad grins dumping the tubes of play dough out onto the table.

Charlie is the first one to move, grabbing a tube at seemingly random. It spurs the rest of them into movement.

Foolish isn’t entirely sure what he’s going to make at first. There’s about a hundred things that affect him negatively. What could he make out of playdough? What’s honest but not too honest? Foolish needs to figure it out.

There’s many options for Foolish to choose from, foster care, whatever mental disorder he probably has, his thoughts mainly.

His thoughts were probably the root of all of it. Your brain telling you a hundred mean things to the point that you break.

He could make a brain. That would work. A simple thing too. A pink blob of playdough with a few creases made with his finger nails.

Foolish sets to work making just that letting time slip away from him as he focuses on the task at hand. By the time that Bad’s timer goes off Foolish is finished. It’s not his best work by any means but it doesn’t really matter too much if it is.

“Alright. We’ll go in a circle, explain what we made, smash it and then do our introductions. Though since it’s right before we leave I guess it’s more of an outro.” Bad says laughing.

“Don’t forget to like comment and subscribe for more.” Charlie says making his tone larger than life to convey his joke.

Bad makes a confused face but moves on anyway, holding up a clay blob that looks like a house. With gray walls and a black roof.

“When I was your age I got a lot of mental damage from the stress of school and the feedback I got from a lot of my peers. Because of that I made a school.” Bad says simply before brining a flat hand to smash the clay building into a splatter.

“Now for my introduction, my name is Bad. I feel better now! One good thing about my week is that I had work off Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I had to clean the house. And you know what, just for fun my favorite school subject was english.” Bad says.

“You seem like you enjoyed english.” Quackity observes.

“That’s a long way to call someone gay.” Fundy mumbles before grabbing his own playdough creation. It’s the female symbol made out of pink playdough. “Mine is the female symbol because gender is stupid and bad.” He says bluntly, crushing it in his hand.

After a minute where Fundy appears to be enjoying the destruction he created, Fundy does his introduction. “My name is Fundy. I actually feel pretty good. One good thing about my week is that my mom and I watched glass onion, it was really good. One bad thing about my week was that I had to go back to school. Oh and I guess my favorite subject is computer science.”

“I loved the knives out movie but I haven’t gotten around to seeing glass onion glad it seemed good.” Bad nods.

Sam shows off a small playdough truck. It’s fairly lumpy but well made for the time they had. “I used my truck so I figured it would work for this.” Sam shrugs. “Also kinda funny that I crashed it and I’m going to smash this.”

With that Sam sets the truck back down and crushes it into a multi colored mess.

“Anyways, I’m Sam. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that all my class work has been easy. One bad thing was that my new teacher is like weirdly uptight about the dress code. My favorite subject is also computer science.” Sam finishes.

Foolish doesn’t bother waiting for Bad’s cue and shows off his playdough brain. “I made a brain because that’s where all the bad thoughts come from.” The playdough feels soft between his fingers when Foolish crushes his creation in a pink blob.

Then he goes right into his introduction. “My name is Foolish. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that there is a new bakery by the house and Puffy’s been getting us stuff from there. One bad thing about my week is that Dream has been acting worse lately.My favorite subject is math probably”

Bad nods his head. “Hopefully Dream feels better soon. If all else Puffy is welcome to look into booking appointments for him.”

“Pretty sure that’s a conflict of interest. But I’ll let her know.” Foolish agrees.

Quackity shows his creation off with a frown, it’s a large orange cylinder with a white circle on top, it almost looks like a prescription bottle. “It’s the meds that didn’t work and fucked me up.” He says bluntly before smushing it with little fan fare.

“Anyways, my name is Quackity and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that the class work was super easy. One bad thing about my week is that I had to go to school. My favorite subject in school is study hall.” Quackity says.

“Language and I don’t think study hall counts Quackity.” Bad says laughing a bit.

“Oh well. That’s my final answer.” Quackity shrugs grinning.

Finally Charlie shows off his playdough family. “I think a lot of my stuff comes from family expectations.” He says shrugging before crushing the playdough people .

“Attempted homicide.” Quackity accuses laughing a bit.

“Yes it is. I, Charlie and a criminal.” Charlie jokes. “I feel good about it too. One good thing about my week is that I feel a bit less tired, surprisingly. One bad thing about my week is that I have loads of math homework. My favorite subject is science.”

“Glad you're feeling a bit better Charlie.” Bad says smiling. “Good session everyone. You’re free to go and I’ll see all of you next week!”

~~~

Foolish can’t help but cackle at the shocked look on Ponk’s face. Sam looks pretty smug for a dead man too.

“I’m killing you.” Ponk threatens

“It was one fry.” Sam says, still laughing.

“You are a dead man. I’ll miss you.” Foolish says grabbing a fry of his own out of Ponk’s basket of food.

“If you wanted a fry you would not have gotten a salad so I’m killing you. Foolish will help me hide the body.”

Foolish hums at Ponk’s statement “I will?” He asks taking an over exaggerated bite of the fry.

“If you value your life.”

Sam makes a noise of protest. “Foolish took a fry too.” He points out.

Ponk whips their head around to glare at Foolish. “You have your own damn fries!” She all but shouts. Even with the noise the waitress barely looks up from where she’s texting at the counter.

“Both of you are dead to me.” Ponk sighs dramatically leaning into Foolish’s side. “I truly have no friends.”

Foolish’s heart should not be beating as fast as it is from something as simple as contact with Ponk. But his heart has no care for what it should be doing.

Foolish looks up in time to catch Sam’s eye, he’s smiling with some unreadable expression in his eyes. When he meets Foolish’s gaze he smiles a little wider and fans the flames of Ponk’s theatrics by stealing another fry.

Chaos descends and Foolish forces the feelings rising in his chest down.

Chapter Text

“So explain it to me again.” Condi says from his seat at the lunch table.

“What’s there to explain? I’m obviously in the right and Grizzly is in the wrong, as always.” Bizly says waving his hand dismissing Condi.

“No! No! No! Now come on, I'm in the right here.” Grizzly says shaking a very uncooked French fry at Bizly.

Charlie is desperately attempting to follow the lunchroom conversation but he feels too tired to keep up with the ever changing conversation. It’s annoying because usually Charlie has no problem going with each new ever changing bit. He hates whatever it is that’s making today different.

“What’s that face for?” Condi stage whispers, tuning out Grizzly and Bizly’s joking argument over something or another.

“Just thinking.” Charlie says taking a bite out of his piece of cardboard that’s being passed off as a pizza.

“About?” Condi prompts.

“I’m not sure.” Charlie shrugs. Before switching the topic unwilling to dwell on the potentially upsetting thought for too long. “What’s new?”

“What a smooth topic change.” Condi drawls but before he can press further Bizly pulls them into whatever argument he and Grizzly are having.

“How many men would you attack for a Klondike bar?” Bizly asks Charlie and Condi with a look in his eyes that means trouble. “Like the commercial.” He clarifies.

Condi thinks it over for a minute while Charlie reels. Sure they talk about some weird stuff but this feels like a fast ball going mock ten out of left field straight towards his cranium.

“Three.” Condi says with an air of confidence that’s almost comical.

“Condifiction!” Charlie exclaims laughing maniacally.

“No! Hear him out!” Bizly interrupts. They are being too loud for the school's small cafeteria and they are getting dirty looks from those around them. Charlie can’t bring himself to care though as he listens to the familiar nonsense that his friends spew.

“Well one seems a bit low ball and anything over five is way too high for one Klondike bar. So three is a healthy middle ground. And besides you just said attack not kill. I can attack the three people and leave them living,” Condi says matter of factly.

“Okay so I’d be different if you were killing people?” Charlie asks grinning.

“Of course...” Condi agrees “I would only kill one person.” The punchline hits and they all devolve into cackles.

“What about you Charlie?” Grizzly asks.

“I’d only attack two, because I’d get my ass beat.” Various grumbles of disagreement break out over the table and Bizly reaches over in an attempt to grab Charlie’s bicep but he dodges the attempt. “I’d also kill two though.”

“That’s so fucked up.” Bizly says. “You’d kill the same number of people?”

“I’d kill more.” Grizzly shrugs.

“You don’t even like Klondike bars.” Condi says, shoving him.

“Nah. But I do like violence.” Grizzly grins.

“I’ve met you, I know.” Charlie snorts.

“I’m being attacked. This is so unfair. I’m literally innocent of any crime ever.” As Grizzly starts his next tirade Charlie’s phone buzzes.

Bad:
What’s everyone’s favorite Disney song?

Foolish:
No trademark concerns?

Fundy:
Why though????

Bad:
We’re belting out Disney songs today :)

Fundy:
Sleep with one eye open Quackity

Quackity
The fuck

Bad:
Language
Please just answer my question. I need to find karaoke versions.

Sam:
Poor Bad

Fundy:
I’m still here from treasure planet

Quackity:
Fine. Once upon a december.

Foolish:
I’ll make a man out of you

Fundy:
Me coded

Sam:
Where the Dream takes you.

Charlie attempts to think of his favorite Disney movie. If he can figure out which ones his favorite he can just pick the best song off that sound track. No intense thought needed.

“What’s the best Disney movie?” He asks, probably interrupting something.

“Toy Story.” Bizly says automatically.

“No way it has Tim Allen in it. The best Disney movie is brave.” Grizzly says.

Another joking argument is brewing but Condi manages to answer before it starts. “The little mermaid.”

Charlie considers it before nodding. “I’d say the best movie is the princess and the frog.”

“You’ve got to keep the green theme up, I get it.” Bizly teases.

“Of course I do. Image is half the bit.” Charlie says.

Charlie tunes out the next conversation instead googling the princess and the frog soundtrack. Charlie looks it over picking out his three favorite songs from what he can remember.

Ma belle Evangeline, sung by the lightning bug about his star wife. It’s a sad love song and Charlie can remember most of it making it a strong contender.

Almost there, it’s a good song and while Charlie only remembers vague bits of it he likes the positivity. God knows they need more of that on Thursday afternoons.

Finally Charlie considers Friends on the other side. It’s good song but probably not the best to bring to a group of suicidal teenagers. Though it would be funny, Bad probably would not let it slide though.

Damn normal, healthy, functioning adults running all his mildly morbid fun.

Charlie considers the two songs left for a minute. As much as he likes Ma belle Evangeline it’s not very long and it’s pretty sad so Charlie knocks it off the list.

With that settled Charlie types out a message to the group.

Charlie:
Almost there from the Princess and the frog.

Bad:
Thank you everyone :D

Quackity:
No

Charlie:
Don’t be a buzz kill Q

Quackity:
Q??

Charlie:
:)

Charlie clicks his phone off turning back into the conversation around him his eyes may burn with tiredness but he can’t bring himself to tune out again. He wants to be present. He doesn’t want to lose any more fun moments with his friends because of some stupid most likely genetic condition.

By the time the bell rings signaling the switch to the next class Charlie is more tired than he was to start with just from the strain of social interaction. It’s the most annoying thing in the entire world Charlie decides.

~~~

Charlie wants to go home, lock his door and curl up in bed. Charlie however can do none of these things. Instead he stares blankly out of the windshield of his car at the church in front of him.

He’ll probably be the last one in, he’d watch the rest of them walk in one by one, other than Quackity. He’s going to make them late. But he also can’t bring himself to care too much.

There’s an startling, harsh banging against his passenger window. When Charlie whips his head to the side he can see Quackity, all tan skin, and smooth black hair tucked under a blue beanie.

Charlie rolls down the passenger side window ignoring the cold wind it lets in.

“Let’s fucking go. I’ve got plans later I’m not let Bad run us late.” Quackity all but hisses.

Charlie shuts the ignition off and complies with Quackity’s wishes for him to leave the car. “What plans?” He tried to ask conversationally.

“None ya.” Quackity says. Holding the door of the church open.

“I know when I ask what that means you’ll say none of my business.” Charlie laughs unwilling to fall into the obvious trap.

“Smart man. You know not to ask then.” Quackity says.

Before Charlie can think up some sort of retort they are standing in front of the door to the basement and walking in.

“There you two are.” Bad says smiling. “We can get started.”

Charlie and Quackity take their usual folding chairs in the small circle.

“Alright. I’m gonna talk for a bit, then we’ll do our introductions, and then at the end we’ll belt out songs to our hearts content.” Bad says. Charlie looks at the unimpressed faces of everyone around him and comes to the conclusion that to their heart's content is not at all.

“Music is a great way to express yourself and process emotions. You can express yourself by writing songs that show how you feel or singing loudly to songs you relate too. Music help you process emotions because it can make you feel things, happy, sad, anything! Because of that we’re going to let it all out. And with Disney songs I know for a fact that none of you can pick a song with swear words.” Bad say’s pointedly shooting Quackity a look.

“Now onto our introductions. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I had nothing to do Sunday and I got to relax. One bad thing about my week is that I got like no sleep last night. And since we are singing Disney songs, my favorite Disney movie is Snow White.” Bad smiles nodding his head at Fundy.

Fundy sighs but says his introduction anyways. “My name is Fundy and I feel bad. One good thing about my week is that I got to watch a cool documentary. One bad thing about my week is that I got in another fight with Wil. My favorite Disney is Treasure planet.”

Sam doesn't bother waiting for Bad to prompt him. “My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I redid my hair color because my roots were showing. One bad thing about my week is that my shoes got a hole in them. My favorite Disney movie is Atlantis.”

“I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have to do lifting. One bad thing about my week is that I have no clue what I’m doing for my next art project. My favorite Disney movie is Moana.” Foolish says.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Charlie?” Bad says.
Charlie

“My name is Charlie. I feel tired. One good thing about my week is that it’s already Thursday so it’s gone by fast. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been super unmotivated for some reason. My favorite movie is The Princess and the frog.” Charlie says not bothering to be ashamed about the honesty.

“Maybe you should try and get a full eight hours or see a doctor if the symptoms keep up Charlie. It could be any number of things.” Bad says and Charlie pointedly ignores his advice.

Quackity thankfully saves Charlie by starting his introduction. “My name is Quackity. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got a new video game. One bad thing about my week is that I have plans later. My favorite Disney movie is Cars 2.”

“Why are plans bad?” Bad asks confused.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Quackity says ignoring Bad’s question and the fact that Bad is their whole ass therapist.

“Alright.” Bad sighs before pulling a Bluetooth speaker out of his bag. “I’ll put the music on.”

“What if we just don’t sing?” Fundy mumbles.

“Fundy.” Bad says, pausing his movements. “For the love of god I am paid to help you. Let me do that even if the way I do seems dumb.”

Fundy’s mouth clicks shut and the opening notes of I’ll make a man out of you start.

Foolish considers it for a minute before he mumbles the words out. Charlie doesn't bother pretending to be coy. Instead he sings what words he knows and hums over the hits he doesn't. Sam rolls his eyes but joins in with them.

After a minute or so Fundy caves and begins to sing along moving his hands as he does.

The song switched to whatever Fundy picks and while Charlie doesn't know the words he moves to and fro in his seat. Quackity mocks him by making faces at him but it doesn’t deter Charlie.

Instead Charlie stands up and holds a hand out to Quackity, bowing dramatically as he does.

Foolish cackles behind him and gets up as well moving with a surprising amount of rhythm. Rhythm that Fundy doesn't have as he sways. Though to be fair Charlie doesn't have it either as he strongarms Quackity into standing and then spins them both around.

By the time it switches to the next song, Almost there, they are all standing and moving around in an uncoordinated mess of limbs, mocking one another more than they are singing. But Bad doesn’t seem to care.

Instead Bad seems to be almost smiling at them as Charlie spins Quackity around singing along loudly. Quackity isn’t singing but he is laughing with a smile on his lips and his eyes bright. Fundy is moving like he’s at a disco shouting out words, shyness gone. Foolish is bumping into Fundy and Sam attempting to get them to dance more than sway, each time he does however it just send him and whoever he hip checks into a fit of giggles.

It’s warm and loud but Charlie can’t bring himself to care about anything other than what’s happening right this moment.

Chapter Text

Quackity wants to throw himself off the nearest bridge. Anything would be better than this.

“Oh… Quackity” Foolish says awkwardly staring at Quackity from the hallway of Dreams house.

Because of course it’s not bad enough that Quackity has been dragged into hanging out with Dream and the others. No of course Foolish has to be there.

How dare he exist in his own home.

All of this can be traced back to last week when Karl realized that Quackity took the bus home. Well he only realized it because Quackity attempted to use that as an excuse to get out of an impromptu hangout, but that’s neither here nor there.

Karl seemed to take a personal offense to Quackity taking the bus and all but insisted he start driving Quackity home like he does with Dream, George and Sapnap.

Technically what Quackity agreed to was just Karl driving him home, somehow though it ended with Quackity more often than not hanging out at George or Karl’s house, unwillingly of course.

So far he had managed to avoid Sapnap’s house because he would rather eat a four course meal of rocks than interact with Bad outside of group.

He wasn’t ashamed per say but he didn’t exactly tell the others what he did every Thursday. Thankfully they didn’t push it too far and instead made Quackity promise to hang out with them after.

And while Quackity still was not sure what their plan was, he found that hanging out with them wasn’t too entirely unbearable. For now at least. Until the other shoes drops however and Quackity is still waiting for that shoe to drop thank you very much.

He’s also technically been avoiding Foolish. By no means does he have any interest in Foolish saying something he shouldn’t to the others.

Even if they aren’t Quackity’s friends they don’t need to know the personal nitty gritty of his life.

“You know Quackity?” Karl asks from his seat on the arm of Dream’s couch.

“No.” Quackity says bluntly holding eye contact with Foolish attempting to telepathically communicate with him.

Apparently Foolish is not as unobservant as Quackity though he was. That or he just doesn’t want people to know he spends time with Quackity. Either way he shakes his head.

“Nah just heard the name once. It stuck.” Foolish lies shrugging before walking towards the entranceway of the house. “Either way I’ve got places to be.”

“It's a bit early to go to group?” Sapnap asks startling Quackity. It makes sense that as Bad’s son he would know about group. It however does not make sense that Sapnap would know that Foolish went.

Doesn’t Bad have to take some kind of hippocratic oath or whatever?

“Yeah but I’m heading to Sam’s early and he’s giving me a ride there.” Foolish shrugs unbothered by Sapnap’s knowledge about what has to be the most embarrassing part of his life.

“Ohhh.” Dream sings songs. “Gonna have a steamy make out sesh before you go talk about your trauma.”

“Suck a dick.” Foolish grumbles pulling his shoes on. “He’s helping me with my precalculus homework if you must know, you rat.”

Quackity tucks this particular piece of information says in his head. He’s not sure what he’d use it for but Foolish already knows that he’s hanging out with other people, so it would pay to have some dirt on him.

“Though.” Foolish drawls a look in his eyes that’s a bit meaner than anything Quackity has seen so far. “It’s good to see you're finally bringing people around again, done acting like a dick to everyone?”

Dream makes a move like he is going to get up and Quackity holds his breath.

“Foolish.” He cuts in heart beating like a trapped bird.

Foolish lets out a sigh. “Yeah you're right. Sorry Dream that was dickish.”

After a beat Quackity makes a choice. If they already know Foolish is going to group, would it hurt if they knew Quackity did too? If they we’re really just playing some cruel joke on Quackity this might make them stop.

Or at least make them stop trying to be friendly with Quackity. If they leave before they realize how fucked up he is it won’t hurt as much. If they leave him before he gets attached it’ll be better anyways.

“You said Sam’s giving you a ride to group?” It’s not quite a question but Foolish catches on.

“We can pick you up on our way.” He says easily

“You should check with him first. Unless you used the hive mind already.” Quackity’s shitty joke earns him a laugh.

“He’ll be fine with it. Have fun. Dream tell Puffy not to wait for me for dinner.” Foolish shuts the door as he leaves.

“So you two do know each other.” George says dryly, eyeing Quackity from the couch.

“Yeah. I lied.” Quackity holds eye contact with Sapnap who looks unbothered by the recent events. “Your dads my therapist.” He prompts again still looking for some sort of response.

“Cool.” Sapnap deadpans.

“Nothing really?” Quackity can’t help but ask.

“What kind of reaction do you want?”

Quackity doesn’t have an answer to that. Not an honest one anyways.

~~~

Sam’s truck is a wreck waiting to happen. Well ignoring the wreck that already did happen with it.

It’s a bumpy ride even from the backseat where Quackity was. Though it wasn’t just Quackity who was uncomfortable, Foolish looked like he was mildly panicked from the front seat.

“So what do you think they're playing some prank on you?” Sam asks, turning his turn signal on.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Quackity defends himself.

“Dream and his friends are too stupid to think something like that up.” Foolish disagrees.

“You both are so fucked up.” Sam says, shaking his head. “Maybe, they just want to be your friends? Ever think of that.”

“No, why would they do that?” Quackity shakes his own head even though Sam can see it.

“We are literally in the car you crashed, you are no better than us.” Foolish rolls his eyes, he smiles though and even Quackity can tell the statement isn’t harsh.

“I’m literally in the right. Maybe we should talk about Quackity’s obvious trust issues huh?” Sam snorts.

“Maybe we should absolutely not. My issues are mine alone.” Quackity says watching the church approach.

“You guys seemed close.” Foolish says switching the topic to the other thing Quackity definitely did not want to talk about.

“Sapnap seemed to think we’re friends just because we sit next to each other in class.” Quackity gripes.

“Oh that sounds like him. He clung to Dream and then Dream clung to George. Honestly I’m not sure where Karl came from.” Foolish snorts.

“You’ve been there that long to catch onto things like that?” Quackity asks

“It pays to be observant.” Foolish shrugs.

Quackity thinks that is probably a side effect of the way Foolish was brought up and it definitely is the type of fucked up thing that needs to be examined. God Quackity sounds like Bad. He doesn’t want that at all, he needs a new little voice in his head that is not his therapist.

~~~

“Hello everyone.” Bad says once the three of them arrive into the church basement. “Ready to start?”

Charlie snorts but doesn’t say anything to either agree or disagree with Bad.

“Alright today I bought these.” Bad shows off a pack of Burt’s Bees chapstick. “Because we’re doing ‘finish a whole tube of chapstick.’ Well kind of, it’ll take longer to finish these of course but we’ll have a nice easy day today.”

“Chapstick helps strengthen and heal your lips. Like we are trying to strengthen our metal resolve and heal our trauma and struggles. It’s often said you cannot kill yourself until you finish a whole tube of chapstick, but I believe this is simply a goal to help you continue to live. Live until you finish the tube without losing it then live until you don’t need silly things like this to want to keep living.”

Bad walks around the circle handing them each one of the yellow tubes in turn. When he’s done he gives them all a once over.

“This isn’t something for you to keep track of before you try again. This is something to remind you that you have reasons to live and keep doing. No matter how hard your life is you deserve to live and have people who want you to live.”

“Now on a more chipper note!” Bad sits back down. “My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I had the house to myself Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been so cold and windy lately. My favorite brand of chapstick is probably this kind.” Bad shrugs waving the yellow tube around.

Fundy sighs. “My name is Fundy. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got to spend some time with my mom Monday, we went to lunch. One bad thing about my week is that school on Tuesday was super long and horrible. I’m not sure about chapstick brands honestly, so my favorite is the kind from my dentist I get for free I guess.”

“I’m glad you got some quality time with your mom! Maybe try finding the silver lining with school, surely it can’t all be bad. Sam?” Bad prompts.

“I’m Sam. I feel fine I guess.” Sam shrugs. “One good thing about my week is that I got a hundred on my computer science project. One bad thing about my week is that I played the chauffeur for Foolish and Quackity on the way here.”

Bad looks absolutely bewildered that any of them would spend time together. Honestly Quackity isn’t entirely sure why he did it himself but it was easier than walking. Yeah he was just using them, that’s all. That makes sense.

“You drove them here?” Bad asks.

“Yes.” Sam blinks.

“Oh… that’s… nice?” Bad’s voice rises at the end.

“Is that a question?” Foolish asks.

“Charlie it's your turn.” Bad says dodging the question.

“My name is Charlie and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I got my bubbe’s old record player. One bad thing about my week is that I had a test today. I definitely failed it. My favorite chapstick is Blistex.” Charlie says.

“It’s nice of her to give you her record player.” Bad nods. “Try to think on the bright side about that test.”

Foolish starts his introduction next. “My name is Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that my language arts teacher had her baby so we’ll have a substitute for the rest of the year. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve definitely been more irritable lately because of early morning lifting. My favorite chapstick would probably just be Vasilne.”

“It’s good she had her baby, probably not the best you don’t want her there though. It’s good you are aware you’ve been more irritable, that's the first step to finding a solution.” Bad nods.

Quackity doesn’t bother waiting to be told to give his introduction. “My name is Quackity and I feel bored.” He says. “One good thing about my week is that me and my dad volunteered at the soup kitchen on Monday and that was pretty fun. One bad thing about my week is that I was honest about what I was doing today with some people. My favorite chapstick is Carmex.”

“It’s always good to volunteer! Especially if you enjoy it. Why was it bad to be honest though?” Bad asks.

“Because people don’t need to know everything about me all the time.” And while his words are definitely true they are also definitely not the whole truth or what Bad is looking for.

“That’s very true. But getting help is nothing to be ashamed of.” Bad says because apparently he’s a fucking mind reader.

“I’m not ashamed. That’s not the word I would use.” Quackity denies.

“What is?”

And well isn’t that the million dollar question. Is he ashamed? Why would he be? He knows he should care what they think of him? So why does he?

This is miserable. A million and one questions with no rational answer. Quackity can’t stand it.

Chapter Text

Fundy hates the car rides back to Phil’s place from school. It consists of awkward silences as Wilbur drives and Techno reads up until they pick Tommy up from elementary school.

It’s dreadful and it puts Fundy more on edge than it should really. It’s not like anything bad would happen realistically, but secretly that doesn’t help calm Fundy down.

After they pick up Tommy the car ride becomes marginally more bearable as they listen to him talk about his day and what he did.

But there is still the underlying tension that coats any interaction when Fundy is around.

They arrive at Phil’s house after a car ride that takes infinitely longer than it should. It’s probably not as long as it seems honestly.

“Hey, Fundy.” Wilbur says from the front seat, hands still clenched around the wheel. “Can we talk?”

No way in hell, Fundy wants to say. Instead he says nothing but he also makes no move to follow Techno and Tommy out of the car.

Wilbur and Fundy sit in a suffocating silence for a minute or two, the only noise is that of Tommy and Techno going inside and the birds chirping outside.

“So...” Fundy prompts meeting Wilbur’s eye in the rear view mirror of the car.

“I’m worried about you.” Wilbur says not breaking eye contact.

Fundy wants to respond with anger. To ask why Wilbur cares now, to spit and curse, to use his anger as a shield. That seems like the wrong response however so Fundy settles with raising an eyebrow at Wilbur.

“Is group working for you? Is this? Going back and forth, never staying in a safe place for long?” Wilbur’s words come out of him in a burst, the quiet that follows hangs heavy.

Why care now? Fundy wants to ask. It’s none of your business, Fundy wants to say. Who cares if it's my life? He wants to spit.

Before any of those words can work their way out of his chest, Fundy's phone chirps out an alert.

Bad:
I’ve got parent permission to take you guys to dinner today!
We are doing finding a new vegetarian, place be ready 0wo

Fundy makes eye contact with Wilbur again. “It’s working better than anything else.” It toes the line between the truth and a lie. Fundy is an expert at walking that line.

Fundy grabs his phone and leaves the car, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. He vanishes into the spare room collapsing on the unmade bed.

Fundy gives himself the count of ten before he shoots Bad a simple thumbs up emoji, ignoring the texts from the others. They probably don’t say anything important. More often than not they don’t.

It’s fine, he’ll be fine, he just needs a minute. Every conversation with his brother who is incapable of listening grits on his nerves.

Maybe Fundy just misses when he could talk with his brother normally. When he knew his brother properly.

~~~

“Do you think I could jump out?” Charlie asks before remembering to finish his sentence. “Like out of the van and live.”

“Charlie..” Bad warns in a clipped tone.

“Probably, we aren’t on the highway.” Fundy says ignoring the tired sigh that Bad lets out.

“It would definitely hurt though.” Foolish counters from his seat next Fundy in the back. If Fundy looks over he can watch Foolish text Sam about nothing in particular. It’s interesting in a strange sort of way.

Fundy couldn’t really imagine any of them being friends outside of group. But he supposes Foolish is the most friendly of them all. The one more likely to make any of them his friend.

“Bad turned child safety lock on.” Sam relays from the passenger seat.

“Boring.” Quackity snorts form where he sits in front of Fundy. “What happens to our constitutional rights? What about Charlie’s right to throw himself out of a moving vehicle?”

“I don’t think any of those words are in the constitution," Fundy says plainly.

“‘The’ is I’m pretty sure.” Charlie points out.

“I bet ‘right’ is. I mean the whole thing is about our rights.” Foolish says.

“Well, are we including the amendments? Because that opens up a whole new set of words.” Sam points out.

Fundy thinks he can vaguely hear Bad mumble something about having one normal conversation.

“At least we are conversing.” Sam counters, confirming Fundy’s theory.

“Willingly nonetheless.” Quackity laughs.

Fundy turns his gaze out the window, watching other cars of varying colors zoom past. There are the usual assortment of buildings outside of the road, fast food chains, shopping malls, gas stations.

None of it particularly stands out to Fundy or grabs his interest.

An elbow nudges him and when he turns to look at Foolish, Foolish is holding his phone horizontally between them a poorly drawn game of tic tac toe open on his notes app.

Fundy lets himself smile and draws and X on the screen.

~~~

The restaurant is a quaint place with a tan and white color scheme that makes everything seem a bit duller. There’s fake plants in just about every corner, which seems like it’s a bit strange since the whole theme is meant to be plants. You’d think that there would be actual real plants.

The place is shockingly packed for a Thursday evening, people talking in a wall of wordless sound.

Bad most have made a reservation however because he gives his names to the hostess, who might be in Fundy’s biology class, and she goes to seat them right away.

They get a round booth in the back corner, the lighting there is much dimmer and it makes some of the wall decorations look like colored blobs with no shape.

Quackity and Charlie slide into the middle, Bad sits beside Charlie on the end and Fundy sits down next to Quackity, Sam sits next to Fundy, and Foolish takes the seat on the end.

Probably because he’s so tall, if Fundy was taller things would definitely be better. Maybe he should get platform boots or something.

“Alright.” Bad says primary. “Go ahead and figure out what you want to order then we’ll do our introductions after we put an order in.”

Fundy nods, opening the menu in front of him. It’s full of various photos of meals that look varied levels of appetizing.

None of it stands out to Fundy at his first glance. He never eats out with his mother and Phil and Kristin are more of the ‘home cooked with love’ kind of family.

“Can I get you guys something to drink?” A waiter with a bored expression on his face asks.

They make an unconscious decision to all order water and the waiter leaves with little fuss.

Charlie whispers some food based pun to Quackity, who in turn begs Fundy to switch seats with him. He just laughs, shaking his head with a grin. Quackity groans dramatically.

Fundy sighs, still struggling to make a choice for what he wants to eat. “Nothing looks good?” Foolish says practically leaning over Sam to ask Fundy.

“No, I'm just not sure.” Fundy shrugs.

“The avocado spring rolls here are super good.” Charlie says.

Bad makes a surprised noise. “You’ve been here before?” He asks.

Charlie nods his head. “It's practically all kosher so my mom likes it. Dad not so much but what can you do?” Charlie says.

Fundy closes his menu choosing for some strange reason to trust Charlie on this. Really he just can't be bothered to put more thought into this than necessary.

The waiter drops off their waters and they go around the table reading off their orders. Bad gets a veggie burger, Charlie orders a bowl of sweet potato soup, Quackity also orders the Avocado spring rolls like Fundy does. Sam gets a salad and Foolish gets some kind of vegetarian lo mein.

After the water takes their menus and leaves, Bad starts the session officially.

“We’re finding a new good vegan restaurant. I could only find a vegetarian one in the area but we’ll work with what we’ve got, yeah?” Bad says smiling. “Food is a key part of human life. Good food especially as it can create dopamine. So why not go outside of your comfort zone and try to find new good food.”

It’s a rhetorical question so none of them bother answering and Bad continues on.

“We are doing the same thing in group. We are leaving our comfort zones to try and find something good. Something to help us heal and finally want to live for ourselves.” Bad nods his head.

“Now let’s do our introductions then you can slack off all you want.” Bad laughs. “My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I went sledding when it snowed on Sunday with Skeppy and Sapnap. One bad thing about my week is that it was so cold! And in the spirit of the atmosphere my favorite vegetable is tomatoes.”

“Those are fruits.” Fundy says because it feels like a pretty common fact at this point. Bad just shrugs looking unbothered.

“My name is Charlie.” Charlie starts next. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I’m staying at a friend's house over the weekend. One bad thing about my week is that I slipped trying to shovel the drive on Sunday and ate ass. My favorite vegetable is peas.”

“Language Charlie.” Bad scolds. “It’s nice that you are staying with a friend. Having an outside support system is very important.”

Quackity goes next. “I’m Quackity, I feel fine. One good thing about my week was that I had no tests. One bad thing about my week is that our bread had mold on it today. My favorite vegetable is cauliflower.”

“Hopefully you can get more bread. It would be a cru-trophe if you couldn’t.” Charlie says laughing.

Fundy blinks at him feeling a bit lost.

“Like crouton and catastrophe combined.” Charlie explains, still laughing.

Fundy is still a bit confused but he goes through his introduction anyways. “My name is Fundy and I feel.. fine. One good thing about my week is that I’m done with all my homework for the week already. One bad thing about my week is that Wilbur’s been getting all in my business. My favorite vegetable is a carrot.”

“Sticking with the orange theme.” Quackity snorts.

“Good job on your homework but remember that your brother cares about you a lot. But if you need to, don't be afraid to set clear boundaries and make sure they are respected.” Bad says.

Sam goes next. “My name is Sam. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that my aunties sent over some stuff for Hannah’s birthday, so she got to celebrate again. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a government test tomorrow. My favorite vegetable is bell peppers.”

“Are those fruits too?” Foolish asks. No one answers him though. Fundy isn’t sure if that's because they don’t know or they just don’t care to answer.

“Alright well, I’m Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that Tubbo had a school play and I got to go, it was bad but whatever.” Foolish grins like the memory is a particularly good one. Fundy wonders if he’ll ever feel that way about anything Tommy does. Then Fundy pushes the guilt that comes with the thought away forcefully.

“One bad thing about my week,” Foolish continues. “Is that I forgot to do my language arts homework. My favorite vegetable is cucumbers.”

“I'm not sure if that's a vegetable either.” Charlie hums.

Before they can fall further into talking about what is or isn’t a vegetable the water sits down their food in front of them.

Fundy looks at the spring rolls surprised by how good they look, that or he’s just hungrier than he thought he was.

Fundy grabs one with his fingers forgoing a fork and he dips it in the sauce it came with. Taking a bite Fundy let’s the sweet sauce and the smooth texture of the Avocado wash over him.

It is good. Surprisingly good. Just as surprisingly good as this dinner has turned out to be.

Chapter Text

Sam would not consider himself a violent person, honestly he’s never been a fan of physical conflict and sticks, to the most part, to verbal fights.

But Sam had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he is actually, deep down a horribly violent person.

Or maybe he just wants to fight his dad. The two ideas probably don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

For some reason despite everyone in the house hating Sam’s father in equal measure the man still hasn’t gotten the hint.

Instead he continued to hang around and just be an overall inconvenience. One who seemed to think he was by any means welcome, or had an opinion anyone cared about.

Honestly Sam wouldn’t be as bothered by his father’s presence if the man hadn’t started making comments on Hannah and Boomer.

It’s one thing to act like he had any right to parent Sam, it is another entirely to act like he had any right to parent Hannah and Boomer. They by no means deserved that.

“Since when were you so disrespectful?” Sam's father asks, having the balls to sound shocked.

Sam had rather sharply told him to shut up after he made a comment in response to Hannah asking Sam to drop her off at Tina’s on the way to group.

“Since when do you have any right to make those kind of comments to her?” Sam snaps back, it’s mildly shocking as Sam was always a mild mannered child but there is only so far his father can push.

“It was a genuine question! I mean what are the two of them dating, a girl her age should have a boyfriend to hang out with.” Sam’s father starts voice raising a bit.

“None of your fucking business.” Hannah seethes.

“You can go upstairs Hannah, I’ll get you before I leave.” Sam does his best to keep a kind tone with Hannah.

He waits until she leaves the kitchen to shoot his father a dirty look. “If you're going to be homophobic get out.”

Sam’s father puts his hands up. “I’m not homophobic, you should hate the sin, love the sinner.” He shrugs.

Sam takes a deep breath attempting to resist the urge to start a fight he most definitely cannot win. “I’m Jewish.” He says bluntly. “You make any comments like that to Hannah and we are going to have problems.”

“Problems?” Sam’s father laughs.

“More than we already do.” Sam says.

“This is the problem, your mother has had too much influence on you, no other points of view in your life! Have you ever even been to church?” Sam’s father asks, talking like he’s going to go on a triraid.

“No and I don’t plan to.” Sam keeps his tone even, his eyes cutting to the clock.

“I’m not the enemy here! I just want what’s best for you.” His father all but shouts.

Sam wonders if he just shuts up and stands here for a bit like he cares, if his father will just tire himself out and be done with it.

“I’ve been doing better and Fran still thinks she can keep me out of your life.” His father continues on. “This is why I’m filing for custody.”

Woah, wait a goddamn minute.

“Huh?” Sam asks hoping he misheard.

“Once my job is more secure and I’ve got an apartment in the area I’m filing for partial custody.” Sam’s father says slowly like he’s explaining it to a small child.

“No.” Sam says because the idea is too much. His father, a man notorious for being unable to keep a job, got one in the area. That is why he is hanging around? And on top of that he’s moving here and wants fucking custody.

Sam can’t deal with this, not right now and ideally not ever.

“Hannah!” Sam shouts upstairs. “Time to go, I’m not going to be late!”

Sam will most definitely not be late if he leaves now, even after dropping Hannah off but he can’t deal with this.

It’s all too much and if Sam was more self aware he’d realize that driving after having the revelation was most definitely the best idea.

Hannah doesn’t even bat an eye at Sam's father as she follows Sam out of the house and into his truck.

Sam slams the driver’s side door shut behind him and starts the truck. “Buckle.” He reminds Hannah.

They drive in silence for a minute until Hannah starts messing with the radio. Leaving it on a station for a minute or two before switching to a different one.

“Thanks.” Hannah says after a minute. Sam knows what she means but he can’t be bothered with it right now.

“I was leaving the house anyways, giving you a ride was no big deal.” Sam says.

Hannah doesn’t correct him and instead she starts talking about school, and her friends, nothing in particular really.

It fills the awkward quiet of the truck nicely and it stops Sam from getting too far into his own head.

Sam drops Hannah off at the nice white ranch style house that Tina leaves in before heading towards the church.

Sam takes an overexaggerated breath attempting to calm himself down. It is fine. Everything is fine. Sam is old enough that he’ll have a say in where he stays and his father isn’t even that present in his life.

Hell his dad will probably leave before he gets to filing for custody. It’s fine. Sam is making a big deal out of nothing.

Settling that Sam focuses his attention on driving forcing himself to box the earlier events and his feelings on them up.

‘This definitely isn’t healthy.’ A little voice in Sam's head whispers.

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam says out loud further cementing the fact that he is crazy.

‘You know I’m right. Remember last time you tried to bottle everything up.’ The voice hisses back.

Sam makes the decision that he is not in fact crazy so he is not going to argue with some weird voice in his head.

~~~

Sam parks his truck in the church parking lot and eyes Bad’s silver minivan wearily. They are going somewhere today it seems, Sam just has no fucking clue where.

Sighing Sam turns the truck's radio off the station Hannah turned it on and cuts the ignition, before finally leaving the truck and walking out to deal with what’s coming.

Fundy is already sitting on the curb next to the minivan focusing intently on his phone and pointedly not Bad who’s standing beside him.

Sam waves at Bad not bothering to smile at him or say hello, then he sits down next to Fundy on the curb. It’s windy and cold out but Sam just tucks his hands into his hoodie pocket.

The three of them wait together in awkward silence for a long enough time that Sam almost regrets not just dealing with his dad longer and leaving at the normal time. Almost.

Thankfully after Charlie finally arrived, Quackity and Foolish were quick to follow, joining them near the van.

“Alright everyone.” Bad says grinning after Foolish sits down. “We’re doing ‘get enough swagbucks to get a free coffee.’ But I definitely don’t have swagbucks so I figured I’d just take you all to get coffee.”

“Let’s get out of the cold shall we.” Bad says getting in the driver's seat.

Sam bites the bullet and opens the passenger side door letting the others file into the back.
Quackity gets in behind Bad with Charlie next to him with Foolish and Fundy in the very back.

“Coffee is technically a stimulant and I probably shouldn’t give it to you, but you’re teenage boys and I’m sure you’ve had worse.” Bad laughs. “Coffee wakes you up in the morning and helps start the day, but I believe most importantly you have to have a reason you want to wake up in the morning. You have to want to live each morning and day for yourself and for those around you who would hate it if you were gone. Because of that I like to imagine group is a little bit like coffee.”

“I’d argue they aren’t alike at all because I enjoy coffee quite a bit.” Quackity mumbles earning a snort from Charlie.

“Let’s do our introductions on the way there and you can enjoy your coffee on the way back.” Bad says ignoring Quackity’s comment “my name is Bad and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that we went to dinner with my parents Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been swamped with work. Oh and my favorite kind of coffee is just normal with a bit of creamer.”

Sam gets the hint that he should go next as the closest to Bad. By no means does he want to, but it’s fine. He doesn’t need to be the most honest anyways.

“I’m Sam and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I did really well on my AP test. One bad thing about my week is that-“ My dad wants to file for custody- “I haven’t been sleeping the best. I usually just have some sugar and milk in my coffee.” Sam says keeping his gaze firmly out the windshield attempting to look normal.

“Good job on your test Sam.” Bad praises. “Quackity?”

Quackity sighs but does as he is told. “I’m Quackity, I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I got some new CDs. One bad thing about my week is that I have a test tomorrow. I like the sugary coffees that are like chocolate and shit.”

“Language Quackity!” Bad scolds. “Charlie go ahead.”

“My name is Charlie and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I slept really well last night. One bad thing about the week was that I haven’t done any of my homework. I like normal coffee I guess?” Charlie shrugged.

Before Bad can respond or prompt anyone else to talk, Fundy cuts in.

“My name is Fundy, I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I got a new binder. One bad thing is that I hate my biology teacher. I don’t like coffee that much.” Fundy says, smiling wider than Sam’s ever seen.

“I’m glad you had such a good thing this week!” Bad day smiling. “Maybe work on that hate but either way you seem very happy.”

Foolish finishes the introductions, “I’m Foolish and I feel good I guess. One Good thing about my week is that I hung out with Dream in a civil way for the first time in a while. One bad thing about my week is that lifting sucked this week. I usually just have my coffee plain, I can’t be bothered to fancy it up.”

“Can’t be bothered to make it taste good?” Quackity says shocked.

That quickly drags them into an argument over what makes coffee good that lasts the entire way to Starbucks. Sam doesn’t add anything to the conversation but as it flows around him he can’t help but relax a bit.

They quickly look over the menu and give Bad their orders, and as soon as they arrive they leave now armed with coffees to drink as well.

And as Charlie waves his Carmel latte around, almost spilling into Quackity, Sam feels himself relax a bit taking a sip of his own latte.

Quackity had ordered an iced frappe, Foolish had just gotten what Sam did and both Fundy and Bad had gotten a hot chocolate. It’s nice, even with how loud it is, Sam wondered when that happened.

When it became nice to simply exist around the others even with the stress from earlier.

~~~

“Plain black coffee!” Ponk says making a disgusted face at Foolish.

“It’s fine. I don’t know why you are all acting like I’m weird.” Foolish laughs.

“It is!” Ponk argues.

Sam listens to the two of them bicker, smiling to himself. It's nice not to have to deal with anything right now, right now all he has to do is be here, and it’s enough.

A foot kicks Sam under the table. Sam catches Foolish’s eye across the table and rises an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with you? You're making a face?” Foolish asks.

“I’m not making a face.” Sam argues.

“Yes you are.” Ponk tacks on making a face of their own.

Sam temporarily lets the idea of telling them what happened float through his head, but just as quickly he dismisses it. He doesn’t want to worry them, they have got their own problems, it would just be selfish.

“I am not.” Sam denies agian. This time however he grabs a fry off of Ponk’s plate successfully changing the topic of conversation.

It’s not that big of a deal. Right now Sam just wants to enjoy some time with his friends.

Chapter Text

Charlie is laying on his bed sprawled out in a poor imitation of a starfish staring blankly at the ceiling.

He really needs a hobby, other than feeling tired and playing Dungeons and Dragons. His new found hobby of staring at the ceiling is getting really fucking boring.

In theory Charlie could venture downstairs and make small talk with his mother. It wouldn’t really be small talk, it would really be her telling Charlie whatever bit of gossip she had heard lately.

Maybe Charlie could walk down the hall and ask to sit in his sister's bed while she does her homework, it would be an easy way to feel more real, to feel less alone. But she wouldn’t understand it. Instead it would end with the two of them bickering and Charlie feeling more tired than before.

Attempting to talk to his dad isn’t even an option. The house had reached a tentative peace over the last week and Charlie isn’t going to ruin that just because he feels lonely. After all any conversation with his dad will just make Charlie upset and drained, and with group later it just isn’t worth it.

Sighing Charlie attempts to find patterns in the ceiling, imagining there are stars, and smiling faces, and knights fighting dragons taking shape above him.

Charlie is aware it’s childish of him but he can’t bring himself to care. Anything to make him think, to exercise his mind in a reminder that he is a living breathing human being.

Quickly growing bored with his imagined battles Charlie calls it quits and rolls onto his side attempting to find his phone in his tangle of blankets.

After his fingers close around it Charlie checks the notifications taking up his lock screen. There’s a few pings from the JRWI discord, but considering the fact that it’s been an hour since the last ping, Charlie is pretty sure the notifications are nothing important. There is a text from a kid in his history class asking for Charlie’s notes, notes Charlie did not take so the kid definitely isn’t getting them. There is also a text from Bad.

Bad:
Quick group session today because I have a doctor's appointment afterwards. Think of your happiest memory to share :)

Charlie stares blankly at the text. His happiest memory? Half the time it feels like Charlie can’t remember anything before the age of thirteen, and no one’s happiest memories are from the ages of thirteen.

Sighing Charlie scrolls down the text thread to see what the others said.

Foolish:
Happiest?

Quackity:
That’s a big asked from a bunch of suicidal kids Bad

Bad:
Yes, happiest! Try and challenge yourself for once Quackity owo

Fundy:
Out of pocket. I’m losing it.

Sam:
We know Fundy

None of them seem to share Charlie’s dread. Maybe he should just make something up to share with the others. Some basic and bland favorite memory.

He could spew some basic bullshit about a family picnic or a fun day out with his friends. He could go deeper and make up a lie about his grandfather and the fake lessons he taught Charlie.

The idea sounds bad and like the sort of thing a morally correct person wouldn’t do at all. It’s a weird thing to lie about at all, your favorite memory.

Charlie rolls back onto his back staring at the ceiling again. He attempts to conjure an image of the last time he was truly happy to his mind.

There are a few vague memories, things he did ages ago with blurry details like over exposed film.

There are even more events where Charlie should have been happy, good things that happened where Charlie forced a smile on his face but didn’t feel any real sort of enjoyment.

Strangely a few images of the group, of them laughing over food at the vegetarian restaurant, at the tired look on Bad’s face as he drove them around to look at Halloween decorations, the blurry photo of all of them smiling in group costumes.

Charlie dismisses those memories as they come. None of them are really friends, instead they somewhat get along due to forced proximity and Charlie saying his happiest memory was with them will seem strange and make him seem like a loser.

Charlie picks out the three or so memorable events that are left.

Some sleepover a few months ago at Blizzy’s house. It hadn’t been anything the group of them hadn’t done before but Charlie felt really genuinely happy in the moment. Maybe that is what was so nice about it, it was a perfectly normal nice moment with his friends.

There is one of his sister coming out to him. The idea that she trusted him that much, that she willingly told him makes Charlie smile a bit. But by no means is Charlie going to inadvertently out his sister, so that memory gets tossed too.

Finally there is an older one of Charlie making cookies with his aunt and grandmother before his aunt moved. The memory had to be at least five years old, but he can picture it perfectly. His grandmother's record player playing an Elvis record, his aunt singing along with flour on her face. Charlie remembers smiling so hard his face hurt and just how good the cookies tasted once they were done.

It’s a bit more sappy than Charlie thinks he would willingly share out but the idea of being a sap is more appealing than the one of being a liar.

With that settled Charlie let himself relax back into his mattress, he picked something honest enough that Charlie doesn’t feel the gross oppression of lying. But it’s also something basic enough that Charlie can avoid any unwanted emotions or confrontations.

Charlie stares at the ceiling telling himself that in five minutes he’ll get up and take a show before going to group.

In five minutes Charlie will get up.

~~~

The church basement was already filled with the members of group by the time Charlie arrived. It had been longer than five minutes before he moved, making him later than expected.

Quackity looks at him and pulls a face about something and Charlie has no clue what but he makes the face back, scrunching his nose up and frowning.

“Charlie, glad you are here so we can go ahead and start.” Bad says gesturing for Charlie to take the only empty seat left.

Charlie does as told and takes the seat ignoring the ear splitting screech the chair let out as he sat. The stupid chairs were probably older than Charlie is and full of rust.

“Alright I already told all of you it is going to be a quicker session today so I’ll jump right in, sound good?” Bad asks. “Happy memories are important because they are something we can look back on later when we are upset to remind ourselves that there are good things in life that we have experienced and there are most definitely more to come.”

Charlie nods his head along, excited to go home and sleep for as long as he could.

“My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I saw the sunset yesterday and it was very pretty. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got to go to the doctor today and it’s just a very stressful thing.” Bad goes through his usual introduction while they listen.

“Now, as for my happiest memory… I would have to say it is probably bringing Sapnap home for the first time when he was a baby. He was just so cute and excited!” Bad smiles at the happy memory.

“Alright.” Fundy says after a minute. “I’m Fundy and I feel okay, I guess. One good thing about my week is that I made some really good Mac and cheese Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot to grab my phone before I came here.”

“Good job on making something good for yourself!” Bad encourages. “What’s your happiest memory?”

“Probably coming out to Wilbur. It was a huge weight off my chest.” Fundy shrugged. “And he reacted super well, or- I mean he didn’t really react at all.”

Bad smiles at Fundy before nodding his head at Sam.

“My name is Sam and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I am dog sitting for the neighbors, so that’s fun. One bad thing about my week is that I…” Sam trails off thinking.

Charlie wonders for a minute what he’s thinking about, but whatever it is Sam quickly makes up his mind.

“I’ve just been pretty bored.” Sam says plainly. “My happiest memory would probably be my fourteen birthday because me, my mom, and Ponk went to an amusement park.”

“It is so nice of you to watch your neighbor's dog.” Bad says. “That’s also a very nice memory. Foolish?”

“My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that it’s been pretty uneventful which is honestly pretty good. One bad thing about my week is that it rained all day today and that’s sort of dreary. My happiest memory would probably be Christmas this year with Puffy, I can’t remember a holiday that good, it was just really nice.” Foolish looks a bit embarrassed by his own honesty but Bad is smiling like this is what he’s been waiting for.

Bad has probably been waiting for more honesty from them actually.

“A week that is uneventful is a good one because nothing horribly bad happened. I absolutely agree with you on the rain though.” Bad nods. “I’m glad you had a good holiday as well Foolish, you deserve that. You deserve good things.” Bad’s words are strangely intense. “All of you do for that matter.”

Quackity hunches down in his seat a bit from next to Charlie but he does his best not to stare, Bad’s words are having their own effect on Charlie anyways. It’s stupid how such a simple phase could affect him so much. How long has it been since Charlie had thought he had earned something good? Or even just had something good happen to him without feeling any guilt?

After a few minutes of tense silence Charlie realizes that the others have been waiting for him to do his introduction.

“I’m Charlie. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been talking a lot with my friends.” It’s not technically a lie, he has read what the others sent him and he listens when they talk at lunch. “One bad thing about my week is that I’ve done nothing.” Charlie laughs awkwardly, preparing to share the memory that feels too honest.

“My happiest would probably be making cookies with my aunt and grandmother.” The memory plays distantly in Charlie’s head, he can almost feel the warmth of the kitchen and smell the cookies.

“I’m glad your week hasn’t been too bad then.” Bad says. “It’s always great to spend time with loved ones.”

“Alright, my turn.” Quackity sighs. “My name is Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I started a jigsaw puzzle. One bad thing about my week is that my English teacher is crazy and assigns a fuck ton of reading to do.” Quackity pauses to let Bad scold him for swearing.

“My happiest memory would probably be...” Quackity trails off chewing absently on his lip. “I went bowling with some…” another pause. “Friends?” It almost sounds like a question. “That was fun.” Quackity finishes finally blushing a bit.

“You have friends?” Fundy fake gasps.

“Shut the fuck up. I have more than you loser!” Quackity groans.

“Language! I’m glad you have friends to have fun with Quackity and I’m glad you have a hobby like puzzles. And I’m sorry to leave in such a rush but I cannot be late.” Bad says standing up and waving to them as he speed walks out the door.

“What the fuck.” Foolish says and that’s all it takes to get rid of any tension in the basement as the others begin to fall into fits of laughter from something as simple as swearing.

Maybe it’s the simple things that are the most effective.

Chapter Text

Foolish has never been chosen first for anything in his entire life. That’s probably obvious with the whole foster kid thing he has going on, but it’s still true.

However he is chosen first when Ponk wants to complain about her day, and he’s chosen first when Puffy needs help with something or Tubbo wants to talk to someone.

So maybe saying he has never been chosen first for anything before is a lie. Because recently more and more Foolish is being chosen and given things he thought he would never have before. It’s strange and mildly horrifying.

How is he meant to deal with suddenly having people who actually want Foolish for who he is, even after seeming the worst parts of himself?

“You’re over thinking.” Sam says bluntly from the driver's seat of his truck. Sam had for some reason decided recently that he needed to leave his house for group earlier than before, thus he has decided to start driving Foolish to group. Not that Foolish is complaining, anything is better than walking in the cold.

“What?” Foolish asks startled out of his thoughts.

“Whatever it is you are thinking about is being thought about too much. I can see the steam coming out of your ears.” Sam says.

“Dick.” Foolish says not bothering to tell Sam his thoughts. As close as they have grown Foolish is still distinctly aware there are lines they don’t cross. Hell Foolish is well aware that Sam’s hiding something, he has no clue what or how big, but he knows.

They ride in a comfortable silence for a few minutes longer before Sam breaks it again at a stop light.

“So you didn’t have a date for Valentines?” It’s a question and a statement wrapped in one.

“Nah. What about you?” Foolish asks.

“Nope. Pretty sure Ponk is gonna tell the people at the diner we are celebrating late though and try and get a free milkshake.” Sam says.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Foolish snorts easily picturing Ponk pulling a stunt like that.

“Live to serve.” Sam laughs, parking the truck in the church lot before cutting the engine. “Ready?” He asks.

“Almost never.” Foolish sighs opening his door and getting out.

When they get to the front door of the church Sam holds it open for Foolish with an overexaggerated mock bow. Rolling his eyes, Foolish refuses to let Sam see the grin fighting to over take his face.

The basement already has Charlie and Quackity sat in it, neither of them are talking so Foolish just walks to his seat not bothering to greet either of them.

Sam sits down next to Foolish eyeing the room as if waiting for whatever strange thing Bad had planned for them to jump out and bite him.

After a few minutes of the most awkward silence of Foolish’s entire life, Bad and Fundy appear in the basement and take their seats.

Well- Fundy takes his seat, Bad stays standing smiling at them all as he starts the session. “Alright everyone, today we’re doing ‘Blankets fresh from the dryer.’ Sadly we don’t have a dryer here so we’ll just have to settle for getting some nice new blankets.” Bad says pulling a white plastic bag filled to the brim with what Foolish can only assume are blankets.

“Blankets provide warmth and protection from both real and imaginary dangers. These are things that we as humans need even if we don’t know it. We all want to feel safe and warm, often we gain that warmth from others, but I don’t want any of you to forget that you deserve your own warmth and protection. You deserve to feel safe at all times, and for that here are some blankets.” Bad grins, pulling one of the blankets out. It’s orange and Bad hands it to Fundy.

It takes two blankets, the first orange one and a lime green one handed to Charlie, for Foolish to realize that Bad color coded the blankets he got them. It’s such a simple silly thing but Foolish had to stop himself from laughing after he figured it out. Sam gets a deep mossy green blanket, Quackity gets a dark blue one, and Foolish’s is a jarring shade of yellow that might be generously called gold.

After Bad hands the blankets out Foolish wrapped his around his shoulders like a cape while Sam leaves it folded running his hands over the soft texture. Fundy holds his to his chest like a plush and both Charlie and Quackity put theirs over their laps, attempting to drive out the slightly cold dampness of the basement.

“Alright, let’s start our introductions. My name is Bad and I feel good! One good thing about my day is that me and Skeppy got a great dinner Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot about a session I had yesterday and I ran a bit late. As for today's question… Do you enjoy getting your blankets out of the dryer?” Bad asks.

Fundy who knows how this goes by now does his introduction next. “I’m Fundy and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that it was super easy work wise. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been getting really bad stress headaches. I do like my blankets from the dryer but only in the winter.”

“I’m glad it has been easy this week and keep an eye on those headaches so they don’t get worse. If they do, we might need to talk more about that stress.” Bad nods.

“My name is Sam. I feel fine.” Sam starts from next to Foolish. “One good thing about my week is that I redid Boomers roots so that was fun bonding I guess. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve had a lot of homework. I don’t really care either way blanket wise.”

“I'm glad you’re getting along with your step siblings, many have problems adjusting.” Bad says smiling.

Foolish starts his introduction next. “My name is Foolish and I’m good. One good thing about my week is that I got a larger max rep count for squats. One bad thing about my week is that all the lifting made me sore. I do like my blankets out of the dryer.”

“Good job Foolish.” Bad praises. “Charlie?”

“My name is Charlie and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that it got super warm randomly then cold again so there were lots of bugs in the house. I don’t like my blankets out of the dryer, it's just weirdly warm.” Charlie says.

“My name is Quackity and I feel okay. One good thing about my week was that I got a cold and missed class Monday. One bad thing about my week was that I got a cold and felt miserable. I don’t care either way about my blankets.” Quackity says.

The rest of group is a quick blur that ends with Foolish once again in Sam’s truck, the two of them are headed for the diner thing time and Foolish is infinitely more excited for that.

The drive to the diner goes quickly with Sam focused intently on the road and Foolish messing with the truck's radio switch from station to station to find a song that he likes, that’s one thing Foolish likes about driving with Sam, Sam doesn’t care if he fucks with the radio. Somewhere in the back of his mind Foolish is aware that he isn’t as worried when Sam drives now, there is still the underlying fear, but he’s confident Sam isn’t going to crash the truck and kill them.

Foolish holds the door open this time once he and Sam leave the truck and get to the diner’s doors.

Ponk is already at their usual booth and she has a sketchbook open in front of her.

Foolish slides into the booth and Sam slides next to Ponk. “Hey.” Ponk greets snapping their sketchbook closed and grinning at Foolish.

“Hey, you wait long?” Foolish asks.

“Nah though I did tell the waitress I was waiting for my late valentine. She felt bad for me and I got free fries.” Ponk laughs gesturing to the basket of fries in the middle of the table.

“You’re horrible.” Sam says grabbing a fry.

“Which one of us is the horrible boyfriend and which one is the third wheel?” Foolish asks mouth moving faster than his brain. God he doesn’t want to know the answer to that question, that’s a lie, yes he definitely does.

Ponk’s eyes squint as he smiles. “I don’t know, which one of you loves me more?” He teases.

“Not me.” Sam grins.

Ponk lets out a gasp hitting Sam’s shoulder. “I guess you are my boyfriend Foolish if Sam can’t even fake love me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I real love you quite enough I think.” He says.

Foolish thinks that he should feel like a third wheel at those words, Because anyone with eyes can see just how much Sam and Ponk do love each other, even if it’s platonic or not. Foolish is just some guy, who met them infinitely later than they met each other. By all means he is no one and they are each other's most important someone. But for some strange reason Foolish doesn’t feel like any sort of outsider, instead he just feels a sort of calm joy.

The jukebox is playing some up beat song with a peppy sort of tune that Foolish has never heard but it’s nice. It fits the mood better than it should, with lyrics about love and friendship and all that other sort of stuff that goes into songs.

When the bored looking waitress takes their orders she shoots both Sam and Foolish a judgemental look that has all three of them falling into fits of laughter after she leaves. Well it makes Foolish and Sam laugh at the collateral of Ponk’s lie, then Ponk begins to laugh at Foolish’s laugh, which makes Sam laugh harder, until all three of them are gasping for breath and grinning like idiots.

“You’re the absolute worst!” Foolish breathes out, still laughing a bit.

“I didn’t think she would glare at you two like that.” Ponk laughs.

“I guess neither of us are the third wheel then.” Sam jokes, “she seemed equally pissed with both of us.”

“What is that a problem?” Foolish jokes, his mind still not catching his mouth, he needs to shut up before he puts himself into a hole he can’t get out of. “Got a problem with Ponk having a late valentines date with her two late boyfriends.”

“Oh I love that.” Ponk laughs.

Sam opens his mouth to make some quip but the song on the jukebox changes and Ponk’s face lights up. “I love this song!” She exclaims.

“It’s not a sea shanty.” Foolish notes trying to listen to the song and make out the words over the bouncing beat.

The song is already at the bridge by the time that Foolish can make any words out. It’s full of repeating words.

“You gotta put one foot in front of the other.” Ponk sings along their accent mixing with that of the singer.

Sam taps his fingers against the table in time with the song.

“If the dinier was empty I’d ask you to dance like in those hallmark movies.” Foolish jokes.

“Shame there are no three way dances.” Ponk says head swaying with the rhythm of the song.

The waitress comes by with their food with no glare this time, but her resting face isn’t all that different honestly.

Foolish enjoys the good and the music and the company and he feels fully like he belongs.

Later in the dead of night Foolish will find himself mumbling the words ‘You gotta put one foot in front of the other’ to himself over and over in tune to the song. Disparate to get rid of the ear worm Foolish goggles the song staring blankly at the name, ‘two best friends’

And if Foolish falls asleep that night taking the lyrics from the song and applying it to his own life and his relationship with Sam and Ponk that’s between him and his pillow. It’s just a little crush, it’ll fade.

Chapter Text

Quackity likes Karl’s bedroom, it’s arguably his favorite place to hang out when the others force him to.

Karl’s bedroom has four walls that are painted four horrible clashing different colors, and a large bed, and shelves absolutely covered in random trinkets.

That and Quackity likes how Karl’s parents don’t care if he paints or writes on his walls, it’s pretty cool, the doodles that line his room.

It’s migraine inducing and chaotic and so very very Karl. Quackity loves it.

He doesn’t however love to lounge around in Karl’s room on Thursdays before group. Quackity always feel to high strung to properly take in the doodles on the wall.

Currently Karl is sat cross legged on the end of his bed using a needle and thread to fix a hole in one of Sapnap’s hoodies. George is sprawled out starfish style on the rest of Karls bed. Dream and Sapnap are playing footloose on the floor and Quackity is sat on Karl’s desk watching the rest of them goof off.

“I just don’t see the point.” George says out of nowhere.

“Point of what?” Karl asks at the same time Sapnap fires back with “When do you ever see the point.”

“Like dating…prom and shit.” George says, still sounding bored.

“There is no point.” Quackity says because it’s true. Romance is just a way to get hurt, someone could hurt you, you could hurt yourself. It’s stupid and overrated.

Quackity ignores the small part of himself that likes to imagine someone holding his hand or cuddling with him before he goes to bed.

“Don’t be a downer Big Q.” Dream snarks reaching a hand out to swat at Quackity’s ankle. Quackity however can see Dream so he moves his ankle out of the way with little fanfare.

“That’s okay if you don’t want to date people, George.” Karl says still intently focused on his sewing. “I’ve got an interest in dating but no interest in sex. To each their own you know.”

Quackity files that big of information about Karl away making a note to remember and not make jokes about it. Not because he is Karl’s friend but just because that would be a dick move.

“That’s nice George.” Quackity offers reaching his own hand down to smack the top of Dream’s head.

“It’s cool if you don’t want bitches Gogs.” Sapnap agrees, eyeing the hand Quackity used to smack Dream wearily.

“Dating is just dumb.” George declares.

“Agree to disagree.” Dream shrugs.

“That’s just because you are a man whore.” Sapnap deadpans.

Dream and Sapnap begin to bicker and rough house on Karl’s carpet for a bit. Used to their bullshit the others just ignore them.

Quackity slides off of Karl’s desk and flops down on Karl's bed ignoring George’s complaints as Quackity lays across his legs.

“Relationships are overrated. You’re not missing out on anything.” Quackity tells George.

“I know I’m not.” George nods the best he can while lying on his bed.

“Are you dating someone Q?” Karl asks turning his body around to face Quackity and George.

The question itself is a strange reminder of how little the others know about him. Of how the others don’t know anything that has made Quackity himself but they still insist on hanging out with him, on being his friends.

“Right now no. How about you?” Quackity attempts to deflect.

Karl’s gaze cuts away from George and Quackity across the room but Quackity politely doesn’t mention it. “Nah. Wouldn’t mind it though.” Karl says finally.

“You two are wrecks.” George says dryly.

“Us?” Quackity asks, pointing at himself and Karl.

“Any two people in this room who are not me.” George says.

“You are a wreck in your own right.” Quackity says patting George’s chest.

George goes to open his mouth to make some snarky quip back but before he can Quackity’s phone buzzes from his jacket pocket.

Pulling it out, Quackity lets his eye flit over Bad’s text.

Bad: we’re making friendship bracelets today!

Groaning Quackity puts his phone back in his pocket unwilling to give Bad the prick age of a response.

“Who texted you?” Sapnap asks having moved close enough to the bed that he can rest his chin in it.

“Your dad.” Quackity says, pitching his voice up to a joking tone.

Sapnap shoots him a glare. “Which one?”

“My therapist, your dad.” Quackity says. “We’ve got a date tonight”

“Adultery is a sin I’m pretty sure.” Dream calls out.

“I wouldn’t be the one committing it.” Quackity points out.

“I’m sure accomplices are also sinners.” George agrees.

Then suddenly something in Quackity's mind clicks. Sapnap has two dads. Bad has a roommate that he insists he isn’t dating when they ask. But Sapnap has two dads.

“Your dad is gay!” Quackity says pointing a finger at Sapnap and sitting up.

“They both are…” Sapnap says, looking vaguely shocked at Quackity’s strange behavior.

“I fucking knew he was dating Skeppy.” Quackity spits.

Dream moves to perch his head next to Sapnap’s. “I mean technically they are married.” He points out.

“You didn’t know this?” Sapnap asks.

“He lied about it!” Quackity exclaims. Waving his hands around dramatically. Karl laughs brightly at Quackity’s antics but doesn’t make any other comment on it.

“How dare he.” Dream says sounding bored.

“I cannot believe you just put that together.” Sapnap laughs, his face lighting up.

“Shut the fuck up.” Quackity spits out between laughter shoving Sapnap’s face away from the bed.

“You are so lucky you’re cute Q.” Karl giggles, shaking his head.

“You are being homophobic.” Quackity whines. Glaring at each of them in turn.

“I am not.” Karl denies indignant.

“I am.” George says shooting Quackity a grin.

Quackity laughs, shoving his hand at George’s head to push him back down into the pillow ignoring George’s protest.

“You’ve killed him!” Dream cried as George finally went down. “I’ll have to avenge him.” Dream climbs onto the bed flopping his body weight down on top of Quackity.

“Hey!” Karl cried out scrambling to get out of the way.

Quackity beats his fists onto Dream’s back spitting curses out but for some strange reason he can’t fight the grin off of his face.

~~~

As if Bad’s text wasn’t enough to tell them that they are doing something crafty today, the goddamn table is out.

Quackity hates that table with a passion. If he ever graduates this whole therapy thing he is going to ask Bad for the table as a parting gift, then he is going to take a fucking sledge hammer to it.

Hell that might count as therapy itself. Maybe that is how Quackity gets cured. Who knows.

Either way Quackity hates the table but he still sits at it staring at the basket of yarn? Thread? Whatever you make friendship bracelets with sitting in the middle of the table.

Bad looks rather pleased with himself as they all shuffle in and take their seats. Once they are all sat around the table looking varying levels of unenthusiastic, Bad starts the session.

“Alright everyone, we are making friendship bracelets today!” He smiles. “The bracelets are a bright little reminder that you have people who care about you, because even something as simple as a bracelet can be proof of that. Even just all of you being here is proof of that.”

Quackity would beg to differ but he sees Bad’s point nonetheless.

“So let’s do our introductions then we’ll all start on the bracelets. We will just be making one for the person to our right but the point still stands. I of course won’t make one, I can imagine any of you want a friendship bracelet with your therapist.” Bad laughs.

None of them argue because Bad is absolutely right about that.

“My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that the weather has been great. One bad thing about my week is that my knee has been bothering me a bit. And as for our fun question… I’ve never made a friendship bracelet but I have been given one.” Bad says.

To himself Quackity bets that the bracelet had to be from Skeppy.

Fundy goes next. “I’m Fundy and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that we had Monday off school. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got so many projects due. I used to have a friendship bracelet but I don’t talk to the person anymore so I don’t wear it… she had one I made too.” Fundy says, he looks a bit like he regretted saying the last bit almost.

Bad nods his head. “Days off are important for recharging.” He agrees.

“My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I watched a movie Monday. One bad thing about my week is that is…” Sam trails off. “I’ve got a lot of homework. I made Ponk a bracelet once. But I’m not that much into jewelry.”

Bad nods his head but doesn’t make any comment.

“I’m Foolish.” Foolish offers. “I feel good. One good thing about my week is I’ve been listening to some good music lately.” Foolish cringes at his own words. “One bad thing about my week is that it’s just been a long week. I’ve never had or made a friendship bracelet.”

“Music is always a good tool to help you cope. Hopefully your week gets better.” Bad smiles. “Your turn Charlie.”

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that it went by fast. One bad thing about my week is that I’m super tired. I have made and do have friendship bracelets.” Charlie says, showing off his wrists decorated with multicolored bracelets.

“That’s so sweet Charlie. Hopefully you feel less tired soon.” Bad says kindly.

Quackity just wants to get this whole therapy thing over with so he starts his introduction without prompting. “My name is Quackity and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I slept in on Monday. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been getting annoyed more easily. I’ve got some friendship bracelets with my cousins.”

“It’s always nice to sleep in. Maybe try taking a few deep breaths when you start to feel annoyed or try to figure out why you are annoyed.” Bad says. “But let’s make some bracelets!” Bad adds on clapping his hands together.”

Charlie is the first one to reach into the bucket grabbing some yarn and the others quickly follow his lead.

Bad puts on some lofi type music in the background and they all set to work.

Once again Quackity is stuck with Fundy. Quackity is also fully aware he only knows how to make those braided sort of friendship bracelets.

With that knowledge in mind Quackity grabs orange, brown, and white yarn and carefully starts braiding them together.

It takes an embarrassing number of tries before he can braid them tight enough but he still finishes before everyone else in group and ends up holding an uncomfortable staring contest with Bad. Quackity loses.

“Alright everyone, time to show off what you made.” Bad says turning off the music.

Fundy produces a simple green braid similar to the one Quackity made. But with four different shades of green instead. “I can only braid.” Fundy says in terms of an explanation shrugging. Sam takes it and ties it on his wrist anyways.

Sam shows off a bracelet that is made of many colors, lots of green and gold and orange, it’s one of the kinds where the stands are close together and every few centimeters or so one of the color wraps tightly around the others making a smooth section of one color before going once again to a multicolor section. Sam offers no explanation of his bracelet as he hands it over.

Foolish shows off a bracelet made exclusively from two strands of neon green yarn wrapped around each other. “It’s not the best but I have no clue how to make these.” He says apologetically.

“That’s okay, Foolish. I love it.” Charlie says happily putting on the bracelet with his others. Charlie hands Quackity one of the fancy friendship bracelets that have a pattern of arrows of colors. The one Charlie made is alternating dark blue, white, and yellow. It’s easily the best made one yet.

Quackity feels shockingly happy when he puts it on his wrist. He isn’t much of a bracelet person and hasn’t worn a friendship bracelet since he outgrew the ones he made with Beni and Cochi. But he can easily see himself wearing this bracelet often. Just because it’s so well made.

With little fanfare Quackity gives Fundy his bracket offering no explanation.

They're just bracelets after all. It’s not that big of a deal.

Chapter Text

Fundy watches as Quackity flips Bad’s van off, Bad had stepped away to take a call quickly, reassuring them it wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

So far it has been ten and Fundy now has a better understanding of the theme of ‘The lord of the flies’.

“Do you smoke weed in your free time?” Sam asks Quackity, sounding almost genuinely interested.

“Where the fuck would I get weed from in this day and age.” Quackity says grabbing a pebble off the curb next to the van.

“Antfrost probably.” Foolish says shrugging.

Fundy turned to give him a look, “since when do you know weed dealers?” He asks.

“He deals to some of the football guys. They leave him and his boyfriend alone because of it.” Foolish says.

“It’s wild that you have to deal weed not to get called slurs.” Fundy says feeling a bit of jealousy for Antfrost. Maybe he should start selling, actually with the whole genetic history of addiction thing he probably shouldn’t. There goes that.

“They aren’t good people.” Foolish says bluntly dodging as Quackity attempts to throw a pebble at him. He probably didn’t have to dodge as Quackity apparently has no fucking aim.

“Why do you hang out with them so much then?” Charlie asks.

“Oh we don’t have time to unpack all that!” Foolish says tone falsely chipper.

Quackity throws another pebble this time when Foolish dodges he doges right into the pebbles line of attack.

Foolish rubs his arm frowning at Quackity, “uncalled for.” He complains.

“You're a bitch.” Quackity deadpans before flopping down to sit next to Charlie.

“Alright everyone.” Bad says reappearing. “So sorry for how long that took but let’s get ready to go!”

With grumbles they all file into the van taking their various self assigned seats.

As Bad pulls out of the church's parking lot he starts the session. “Today we are going to an arcade as all of you already know! Arcades are places to have fun and take your mind off of your struggles, you can play games and be competitive with friends all while having safe fun.”

“It’s important to be safe even when you want to do something reckless and it’s important to have fun even when you feel like you can’t. But on a lighter note!” Bad grins. “Let’s do our introductions.”

“My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that the flowers outside my house are starting to bloom. One bad thing about my week is that the flowers blooming made me think of global warming and I got a bit sad. My favorite arcade game is probably pinball.” Bad says, his eyes are still on the road ahead.

“Pinball is such an old man's answer.” Quackity says.

Charlie laughs, a quick bark of a thing and Fundy can’t help but grin.

“My name is Sam.” Sam starts after the laughter dies down. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have work this week. One bad thing about my week is that I can’t sleep. I’d say I like skeeball.”

Bad hums from the driver's seat but makes no comment otherwise.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with some friends. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot I had a test on Monday and I failed it. I like claw machines.” Charlie says nodding.

“Friends are important and one bad grade isn’t the end of the world, you’ll have many other chances to make the grade up.” Bad says calmly.

Quackity goes next. “I’m Quackity. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I made cookies. One bad thing about my week is that I got a cold earlier in the week. My favorite game is Dance Dance revolution.” He says.

“Baking is always fun! I’m glad you feel better.” Bad smiles.

Fundy looks over at Foolish who is holding a fist vertically over his palm. When he notices Fundy staring he bounces his fist. Rock paper scissors for who goes first.

Fundy counts the beats in his head before throwing out his palm flat, he picks paper. Foolish the bastard throws scissors.

Fundy sighs before introducing himself. “My name is Fundy and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that me and mom got pizza on Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that school has been more hellish lately. My favorite arcade game is the car racing ones.”

“I’m glad you and your mom got to spend time together, hopefully school gets better though I would encourage you to talk with a teacher or parent.” Bad says.

“I was purposely vague so I wouldn’t have to do that actually. I know you are a mandated reporter.” Fundy shoots back because it is true.

“I’m Foolish and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I watched some movies with Tubbo this weekend. One bad thing about my week is that the power went out for a bit for some reason. My favorite game would probably be those basketball shooter ones.” Foolish says.

“You would like those wouldn’t you.” Quackity says.

“What does that mean?” Foolish asks sounding tired.

Fundy snorts fidgeting with the strands that hang off the bracelet on his wrist. The habit is newly formed and strangely calming. It gives him something to mess with when the anxious feeling in his chest grows to become too much.

They are going somewhere where people might actually see them. The idea is enough to make him feel sick.

As they pull into the parking lot of the local Dave and Buster's, Fundy's heart feels like it is going to beat out of his chest with nervous energy from the idea of people seeing him with the others.

Fundy takes a deep breath and doesn’t let it out until he is out of the car. He is fine. No one is going to see him. More importantly no one is going to spew their bullshit at him. Fundy is safe. He’ll just have to keep telling himself that.

~~~

Bad is a fool of a man so it seems. He makes the simple mistake of not supervising them, of setting a bunch of teenage boys free in an arcade.

He simply sits down in the eating area and orders himself a Pepsi to drink and gives them each a colorful plastic game chip card before telling them to ‘have fun.’

Rookie mistake honestly, Bad should know them all better by now.

“So…” Charlie trails off looking at the brightly flashing LEDs on the machines in front of them.
“We can play everyone's favorite games.” He continues smiling.

“There is DDR.” Foolish points out gesturing to the side of the game floor where two DDR machines sit side by side.

“I’m kicking someone’s ass.” Quackity announces heading off towards the machines.

After a minute of no one else joining Quackity on the machines, Fundy steps up earning a whistle from Charlie.

Fundy looks at the floor of the machine as he gets on it attempting to memorize where each direction arrow is. He also forgoes the bar unlike Quackity who reaches behind him to hold on the bar backwards for some reason.

Fundy let’s Quackity pick the music without putting up a fight, mostly because he doesn’t know any of the songs.

Playing dance dance revolution is apparently a very straining and difficult thing to do. Or maybe Fundy is just bad at it and has been wearing his binder a bit longer than he should be. Really, it could be either of those things.

Quackity however is pretty damn good at it, clearly it’s his favorite game for a reason, as he gets every arrow on time and wipes the fucking floor with Fundy.

“You suck.” Sam laughs after Fundy is finally freed from his torment after three rounds.

“I’d like to see you do better.” Fundy snaps, his breathing hard.

“Oh! I want to go.” Charlie says.

Sam ends up convincing Foolish to take his place against Charlie however.

Foolish is large and uncoordinated, Charlie is enthusiastic and uncoordinated. Together they make a pair of people who have no rhythm whatsoever. Charlie ends up winning the game, an anime girl cheering at him from the screen, but it’s only by a few hundred points.

“You guys suck.” Quackity pipes up from where he’s been watching the other two make absolute fools of themselves. Ha Foolish making a fool of himself. That might be a bit too on the nose.

“The big claw is over there. I want to win something.” Charlie decides pointedly ignoring Quackity’s insult.

And like a flock of birds they descend over the next machine.

“Him.” Charlie points at the largest and ugliest frog Fundy has ever seen. It’s a weird shade of green with orange blobs covering its body. It is just as large and awkward as the other stuffed animals in the machine though.

Fundy nudges Quackity with his elbow to get his attention. The effort earns him a glare but Fundy ignores it. “It’s just like you for real.” Fundy says pointing a the large yellow duck.

“He is coming home with me.” Quackity says nodding.

“No.” Foolish says scandalized. “You are not carrying that thing around with you all day.”

Quackity smiles with a faux sweetness that lets Fundy know that he will in fact be carrying that thing around all day.

Charlie wins his ugly prize after one attempt grinning triumphantly.

It takes Quackity much more than one attempt to win his, even with both Sam and Foolish guiding him from either side of the machine and Fundy calling out his own, not so helpful advice.

“Shame there’s no shark in there.” Sam says squinting at the machine. “You could fail at that too.” He finishes looking up at the machine to grin at Foolish who groans in response.

The next closest machine on their list is the line of about ten skeeball machines along the back wall a few feet away from the giant claw machine.

They quickly scan their cards with only a healthy amount of trash talking the others.

Fundy grabs one of the surprisingly heavy blue balls before throwing it down the middle of the machine. It only gets to the second ring. The next two throws are worse only getting in the first ring.

The best Fundy managed to throw is a ball right in the middle for fifty points. He does better than Quackity who seemingly only threw ten pointers. But he does much worse than Sam who seemingly got the hard fifty pointers for each throw.

“Freak.” Quackity accuses glaring at Sam’s score.

“Try being good at anything ever.” Sam suggests grinning.

“Try dying.” Quackity snaps.

“Been there and done that.” Foolish jokes.

Fundy rolls his eyes before spotting the little car racing games and turning towards them. The others follow him with little fanfare. It’s strange, having people do simple things like that, follow him and join him in things he enjoys.

They race and Fundy manages to win just barely beating Foolish out for first. Charlie gripes about his loss but grins either way following behind Foolish in search of the final game on their list.

They find it with little trouble and somehow it ends up with Foolish and Charlie competing with each other to make more baskets before the timer runs out. And while Fundy would not typically consider Charlie athletic he definitely holds his own. And he has pretty nice arms, not in a gay way, just in an observation way.

After that they spread out playing various other brightly light arcade games and bickering like children. After the plastic game cards run out they let Charlie drag them towards the little prize counter even though nothing there is actually something any of them need or what.

Foolish ends up locating a small Minecraft creeper and using half his tokens to get it secretly, or an attempt at secretly. The other half are used on lemon flavored candies.

Charlie gets a tub of slime and declares that and his sin of a frog enough.

Quackity gets a deck of cards and a sticky hand which he whips threateningly at the others in between laughter.

Sam traded his own tokens in for whatever it is he gets without Fundy seeing. Making it a mystery.

Fundy himself gets some candy he probably won’t end up eating and in a strange moment of impulsivity a blue sheep keychain.

They greet Bad again grinning and laughing having spent the evening like anyone else their age instead of a bunch of suicidal losers. From an outsider's perspective they would look like a normal group of friends.

Surprisingly the idea doesn’t rub Fundy the wrong way like he thought it would.

Chapter Text

Sam is a selfish coward, Sam is under water beneath crashing waves that distort the sound around him until it is unintelligible.

One of these facts is a lie, it’s the second one.

Sam is not under water, Sam is however probably drowning beneath the waves of something. But figuring out what would just make him spiral, more than he already is, and Sam doesn’t have the time for that.

So Sam does his best not to listen to the distorted sounds of his Mother and father arguing that drift their way up to his room.

Sam had disappeared into his room like a coward after he got home from school to see his father angrily waving papers in his mothers face. It seems his father had made good on the threat to try and get custody. Sam isn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

So Sam had made a hasty retreat to his room and promptly removed his hearing aids from his ears in an attempt to remove the sound of arguing.

On a good day if someone is talking directly to Sam without his hearing aids in he can pick out about half of their words, as long as the diction is clear and they aren’t talking too fast.

They usually have to be pretty close for this. The further away from Sam they are the less he hears, even with his hearing aids. That’s just how distance works.

Because of this it is pretty surprising that as Sam lays on his floor, bedroom door shut tight, he can still hear the argument even from the second floor. It’s almost impressive really. Of course he can’t hear all of it, most of it nonsensical sounds that just flow over him, but every now and then Sam can make out a clear word.

Again, it’s almost impressive.

It would certainly be more impressive if the words weren’t split between insults directed at Sam and his upbringing or how much of a useless deadbeat his father is. Even if that part is technically true.

Sam takes a breath trying to dispel the feeling of suffocation that surrounds him as a handful of words make it through his self imposed silence.

He is fine. It’s fine. Sam has to resist the urge to grab his phone and text Ponk, there is a small childish part of him who thinks that somehow telepathically Ponk will know something is up.

And while Sam isn’t exactly hiding what’s going on he by no means wants to talk about it, or talk about why he hasn’t told Ponk yet.

A voice that sounds way to fucking much like Bad’s whispers that he shouldn’t bottle this up. Sam whispers right back to the voice to shut the fuck up he is not going crazy on top of everything else.

Because Sam isn’t going crazy the voice doesn’t respond which Sam takes as a win.

Sam's bedroom door slams into his foot from where he is sprawled out on the floor because of its sudden opening, that and Sam’s close proximity to it.

Kevin stands in the doorway looking blankly down at where the door hit Sam’s foot. He opens his mouth to say something but Sam cuts him off by scrambling to grab his hearing aid case from his desk and getting his actual hearing aids back and in his ears. Once they are turned on and working, Sam turns to face Kevin.

“Hey.” Kevin says. God is it awkward talking with him. He’s a great guy, a good husband to Sam’s mom and a good dad to Hannah and Boomer, but he has no fucking clue what to make of Sam. Usually Sam is thankful to be left alone by Kevin and not dad-ed, but it certainly makes stuff like this awkward.

“Thought I’d check on you. I got home and Fran and your father were shouting.” He continues.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees. “They do that. Quite a bit actually.”

“Right… I’m not sure what they are going at it about but I knew you were the only other one in the house.” Kevin says proving once again why he’s a great man overall. He may not get Sam but he tries. Most other people wouldn’t, Sam appreciates it.

“Custody.” Sam says because Kevin deserves to know what’s going on in his own house.

“What?”

“He wants partial custody.” Sam clarifies. “That’s why they’re fighting.”

Kevin makes a face, he knows how things are around the house and he knows why that would be something neither Sam or Fran would want. “If worse comes to worse we’ll take it to court.” He says bluntly.

Sam’s immediate response is that no they can’t take it to court they don’t have the money for that. The ‘they’ of course in that statement is Sam and Fran, it doesn’t include Kevin, Hannah, and Boomer. Kevin has a fancy pharmacist job and could take it to court if he so desires.

The fact that he offered makes Sam want to brush it off instantly and avoid the hassle of Kevin caring. Sam doesn’t say anything instead.

Kevin looks at him long and searching ignoring the shouting from the kitchen Sam can hear much more clearly. “You’re a good kid, you know that right?” Kevin says suddenly.

Sam’s surprised for a minute. The rational part of Sam is aware that Kevin is probably only saying that because he can hear Sam’s father spitting venom directed at Sam. The childish part of Sam, the part of him that is ten waiting for his father to come back like he promised after he left again, preens under the praise, that part of him lives for Kevin’s words. A deeper darker part of Sam, the one that is so impulsive that he grabs the wheel and turns sharply, wants to shove Kevin away sharply.

Sam stares at Kevin saying nothing for a while longer than he should before forcing the words out. “Thank you. You’re a pretty good man as well, a good husband, a good dad to Hannah and Boomer.”

Kevin lingers in the door looking at Sam. A silent understanding between the two. Sam doesn’t understand Kevin, not used to kind men like him who are simply kind. Kevin isn’t sure what to do with Sam, he wants to help but he can’t and he doesn’t want to overstep but he might.

Kevin sighs. “I’m going to meditate on this fight.” He says. “Have fun at group later.” He says leaving, giving Sam a reason to stay in his room until he had to leave.

Sam isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he doesn’t leave his room. Instead he holds his phone as close to his head as possible and clicks play on whatever Spotify playlist he can click first.

~~~

Sam stares at Bad’s van infront of him, the man himself is grinning seemingly deep in conversation with Quackity. While Sam isn’t one to eavesdrop he can hear what they are talking about, the name Sapnap is thrown around a few times. While Sam had no clue why Quackity would willingly talk with Bad about his son it also isn’t his problem.

What is his problem is whatever Bad has planned for today. The van means that they are going somewhere. Sam just has no clue where.

Sam is still stuck in the place of his thoughts that has him half zoning out when someone nudges his shoulder.

“Hey.” It Foolish. Sam offers him a closed lip smile in return.

Before Sam can attempt to get his mouth to work and form words Bad claps his hands together ending his conversation with Quackity. “In the van everyone we’re going to the shelter.” He calls.

“We’re gonna leave you there furry.” Quackity grins teasing Fundy who in turn flips Quackity off.

They get in the van and Sam mentally prepares himself for just how awkward it is to ride in the passenger seat next to Bad.

After they are all buckled in, Bad leaves the church's parking lot and starts his rambling. “We are going to do ‘dog cuddles in bed today.’ But obviously we have no beds or dogs at the church, so I talked to a friend at the shelter and there are some dogs they want to have socialized. So we get to go and pet them and talk to them to get them used to people!” Bad says excitedly.

Sam shares Bad’s excitement for once. He absolutely loves dogs, they are great, rather smart and adaptive, unconditionally nice to most people, and great judges of character.

Getting to spend a group session almost makes up for the whole group part of it.

“Spending time with animals is a great way to improve your mood and make you remember just how great life is. It’s amazing we get to live with such wonderful creatures. I mean how can you be upset when letting a dog?” Bad laughs.

“Alright I’ll do my introduction now. My name is Bad and I feel happy. One good thing about my week is that it has gone by very quickly. One bad thing about my week is that I burnt the chicken last night. And, let’s say if you're more of a cat or dog person. Anyways I’m more of a dog person.” Bad says eyes trained on the road. Say what you want about him but he is a very good driver.

After a minute or so Bad clears his throat and Sam realizes that he is waiting for him to start.

“I’m Sam. I feel good.” Not technically a lie. Sam does feel good about going to see some dogs. “One good thing about my week is that I got to meet Hannah’s girlfriend properly. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t been very motivated lately.” Also technically true. “I’m more of a dog person.”

“I’m glad you’re getting along with your step sibling.” Bad says.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie starts. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my friends a lot. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot to do my homework again. I’d say I’m maybe a bit more of a dog person.”

Bad nods his head in understanding at Charlie’s words.

“My name is Quackity, I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that my cousins are coming down on Friday. One bad thing about my week is that I’m nervous because I haven’t seen them in a bit. I like cats more.”

“Outlier.” Charlie says pointing a finger at Quackity who scowls at him.

“I'm objectively right.” Quackity says haughtily.

Before the two can start bickering Foolish cuts in. “My name is Foolish and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I had this week off lifting. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling anxious lately. I’m more of a dog person.”

“What’s been making you anxious lately?” Bad asks.

Foolish shrugs his shoulders. “Everything, nothing. You know how it is.”

“I’m Fundy.” Fundy starts saving Foolish. “I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I haven’t had any homework. One bad thing about my week is that I had the pre-sat and it sucked. I like cats more.”

“Finally someone sane.” Quackity cheers.

~~~

Shelters make Sam sad. Shelters make him sad because all Sam can think about is the sad faces of all the poor dogs with no families to go home to.

While not being an overly emotional person Sam can’t help but feel bad for the poor dogs.

Bad leads them to the introduction area for the dogs where there are six or so dogs doing various things around the room.

The dogs all perk up when they enter. Some of them head straight towards them while others are more weary.

“Have fun.” Bad says waving them further into the room.

Sam doesn’t need any more prompting than that and quickly makes his way to a corner of the room and sits down holding his hand out to any dog that wants to approach.

The others quickly follow after Sam filing into the room and sprawling out around it.

There is a yellow lab with a green banana tied around his neck making his way hesitantly towards Sam.

When he gets closer towards Sam he sniffs his hand hesitantly before licking it. Sam can’t force the smile off of his face.

Sam is so enamored with the dog he doesn’t notice Foolish approaching until he sits down beside him with a chihuahua in his arms. The dog seems perfectly content there, its head resting on Foolish’s forearm.

The yellow lab decides Sam is cool enough and promptly flops down next to Sam’s leg and rolls onto his back clearly asking for belly rubs. Sam complies happily while looking around the room.

Charlie’s playing and losing a game of tug of war with a black and white spotted bulldog.

Quackity is wearily eyeing a small white dog, the dog seems rather enamored with Quackity though.

Fundy has a Great Dane on his lap. The size difference is downright hilarious.

Sam can’t help the grin that forms on his face. This is probably the best group session he has ever had.

“You’re smiling.” Foolish notes something strange in his voice.

Sam rolls his eyes at him. “I like dogs.” He says simply.

“Me too. Me too.” Foolish nods. “Does Ponk like dogs?” Foolish asks.

“Yeah. Always wanted one when we were growing up. I did too to be fair.” Sam says cutting himself off with a laugh when Charlie officially loses his game of tug of war.

“What a perfect fake relationship we have. All dog lovers.” Foolish snorts and Sam uses the hand not rubbing the dog's stomach to hit him.

The small white dog seems to have won whatever stare off it was having with Quackity and is now getting begrudging head rubs.

Charlie teases Quackity about it who fires back with an insult about his tug of war loss.

Foolish opens his mouth to join in on the teasing but Sam’s phone buzzes, cutting off what Foolish was going to say next.

Mom: Kevin said he talked to you earlier, you’re okay?

Sam simply takes a photo of the dog and sends it to his mother. It's a response enough that he is okay.

And honestly, technically, Sam is being honest. Especially with the other members of group around him laughing and talking.

~~~

“I’m so jealous.” Ponk says looking at the pictures on Sam’s phone. The photos are of all of them with various dogs and aren’t all that well taken.

“We should get a dog.” Ponk continues.

Foolish laughs, snorting into his soda. “How would we get a dog?” He asks.

“Split custody.” Sam offers. “Do it the divorced parent way.”

“I meant like in the future!” Ponk protests.

Foolish hums. “Sure. In our hypothetical future we should hypothetically get a dog.” He agrees.

“You ruin all my fun.” Ponk huffs despite the smile tugging on their lips.

Sam grins as well, imagining a hypothetical future with a hypothetical dog, just as happy and warm as this filling his mind.

Chapter Text

Charlie isn’t a good son. Not in the emo, he hates his parents way, though on occasion that is true. But Charlie simply isn’t a good son. Not to his parents at least.

It had never particularly bothered any of them, his parents had another kid to dote on and his sister loved the attention she got from them. Charlie himself had friends who could keep him company when he needed and celebrated his little victories, the one’s parents never seem to care for.

All in all it wasn’t really that big of a deal. Because even without his parents strange expectations for their children, Charlie could not be considered the ideal kid.

He wasn’t that good in school and as of late he didn’t apply himself enough to even get a pity “well at least you tried.” Because frankly Charlie didn’t really try his best. If it didn’t interest him, homework did not get done. And Charlie could almost never be bothered to properly sit down and study.

On top of that Charlie had a hundred little things that made him a not so great son, aside from not having any accomplishments his mother could brag about. He barely listen when he was scolded, he had no care for his future, he left to friends houses when he wanted too, and to top it all off he tried to off himself.

Really Charlie was doing just about all he could to earn the title of world's most disappointing son. Not the worst, just the most disappointing.

To counter it his sister was the ideal daughter. The one his mother could use to one up other moms. She played soccer, she got good grades, she put the effort in.

The two worst things his sister has done in her entire life were one, constantly fighting with Charlie to the point that even they both found it annoying, and two be gay. Their parents didn’t even know about the gay part. So really it didn’t even count.

Not that Charlie himself saw anything wrong with being gay. Hell a very large portion of the people he spent most of his time with were gay. But as much as his mother likes to preach her acceptance, Charlie wasn’t oblivious.

Because of that Charlie did his best to simply avoid being home too long with his parents if he wasn’t shut up in his room sleeping. He went out with his friends or he went to group or he slept. It seemed like he was sleeping a lot lately. But he was also infinitely more tired than he should have been.

It wasn’t like he was staying up late or using a lot of his energy during the day. He was simply tired. Tired enough to come home from school and pass out until dinner if need be.

Charlie is currently attempting to do that. Trying to sleep a few minutes away until he has to go to group. Maybe if he sleeps a bit he can get rid of the headache that has been pounding at his temple since the school day started.

It might be stress over his grades or maybe it’s dehydration over the lack of water he has drunk recently. Or maybe it’s just a headache. It could be anything really.

For once though, as Charlie attempts to chase sleep he is unable to catch up to it. Sleep usually comes naturally, even when it is unwanted, sleep pulls down on him weighing him down. But now as he seeks it out, sleep plays keep away with Charlie.

Honestly Charlie wants to bludgeon his head against the wall nearest to him until the headache goes away. Or until he passes out and finally gets the sleep he wants.

Morbidly Charlie wonders if Bad would count that as a relapse. It would technically be some form of self harm. But Charlie almost wants to see the face Bad would make. It would probably be somewhat horrified at his actions.

As if summoned, Charlie's phone buzzes with a text from Bad. Maybe he can read minds. That would actually probably make him a better therapist honestly. If he could read their minds he could probably fix them. Or maybe they should just be more honest, who knows really.

Bad: would it be too cold to go to the park today?

Charlie has absolutely no clue what Bad would expect them to do at a park as they are all teenagers. Which isn’t to say Charlie had never hung out at a park, there are only so many places to hang out with friends unbothered. But still, what sort of thing could the group do at a park.

Charlie: Why are we going to a park?

Bad: that is today's thing :)

Quackity: we aren’t toddlers

Fundy: you act like one

Charlie snorts at his phone already anticipating whatever threat Quackity chooses to respond with. Before Quackity can get too far into his tangent though Sam sends a text.

Sam: so bring a coat is what you are getting at Bad

Quackity: I’m getting at fuck Fundy and his entire bloodline.

Bad: language! But yes Sam, everyone please bring a coat.

Foolish: will do

Charlie dreads the cold. He hates going out in it and early March is absolutely full of cold. But apparently Bad expects them to go out into the cold.

Charlie gets that nature is good for him and all, the wonders of Mother Nature or whatever, but he couldn’t care less. A children’s playground isn’t going to cure him.

Another text goes through, this time it’s from Grizzly though.

Grizzly: do you want to know how many bananas it would take to kill a man because me and Condi are disagreeing.

Charlie laughs despite himself. Grinning at his phone.

Charlie: like how many to eat to kill a man or how many to beat a man to death?

~~~

There is a small, honestly rather pathetic playground behind the church. It’s probably meant to be used by the poor kids forced into Sunday school or youth groups, or whatever other punishments the church doles out.

It is where Bad has them meet up today not even bothering with the basement.

All of them are various levels of bundled up, Quackity in his usual track jacket and beanie, Fundy and Bad are both wearing actual coats, Sam and Foolish are both dressed more simply in hoodies and sweatpants. Charlie is too but the wind chill has long since penetrated his layers leaving him shivering.

It is by no means cold but it certainly isn’t the kind of weather Charlie would ever willingly go outside in.

Undeterred however, Bad just grins at them all from where he is sat at some old wooden picnic table.

There is a dick carved into the wood next to a love heart with two people's initials. It’s Simple but it makes Charlie grin.

“Take a seat everyone, we’ll get this started and do our introductions then you guys can go run around.” Bad grins.

“How old do you genuinely think we are?” Quackity asks sarcastically.

Bad doesn’t even spare Quackity a glance instead starting to talk. “Playing outside on structures like this is such a great way to get back in touch with your childhood. To create new happy memories and to relive old ones. You get to let loose and just enjoy yourself in a carefree way that I think all of you could benefit from.”

Fundy snorts.

“You deserve to have fun and remember that there are good things in life no matter how simple or childish.” Bad continues. “Now let’s do our introductions then you can go prove how young and athletic you all are.”

“No one at this table is athletic.” Quackity deadpans and Foolish makes a noise of protest.

Bad smiles at that but moves on to his introduction none the less. “My name is Bad and I feel great today! One good thing about my week is that me and Skeppy are going out to dinner tonight. One bad thing about my week is that it feels like it’s been such a long week. And if I were to have a favorite piece of playground equipment it would be… the swings probably.”

Fundy goes next. “My name is Fundy. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that we started a new project in my coding class and my partner is actually competent this time. One bad thing about my week is that someone drew boobs on my science notebook. I like the slides the best as long as they aren’t the metal ones.”

“I’m glad you are actually looking forward to working with someone. Though I would report the notebook thing to a teacher.” Bad tells Fundy.

“I’m Sam.” Sam starts next. “I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I had no homework. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t been feeling the best. I’d say my favorite was the monkey bars.”

“I hope you feel better soon Sam.” Bad says sympathetically, though Charlie thinks that it’s a different kind of bad that Sam is feeling.

Charlie goes next, his lie already half formed. “I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that we are having pasta for dinner. One bad thing about my week is that it has been a long one, I like tetherball.”

Bad nods. “The little things that are good are just as important as the big.” He says.

“My name is Foolish and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I got a new book. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot my lunch today. I liked the rock walls as a kid.” Foolish says.

Bad doesn’t say anything to Foolish but nods.

“I’m Quackity and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I had a good time with my cousins. One bad thing about my week is that my aunt was all on me about getting a girlfriend. I was more of a four square kid honestly.” Quackity says shrugging.

“Alright. Thank you all, you’re free to go have your fun.” Bad says.

“No actually how old do you think-“ Quackity cuts himself off with a start as Fundy violently hits his shoulder.

“Tag.” Fundy offers as his only excuse before getting up and quickly darting off.

Quackity’s face goes from confusion to dangerous anger as he also gets up.

Charlie knows how tag works so he quickly gets up and darts away as well before Quackity could tag him.

Someone lets out a shout behind him but Charlie doesn’t bother to look, his headache still pounds and his feet hitting the ground doesn’t help but adranile pound in his blood and Charlie can’t help but grin.

Charlie darts up the stairs to the closet play structure watching as Quackity darts past fleeing from Sam who is chasing him.

Fundy cackles from his own spot on a swing looking rather unbothered as the two run past.

His laugh is infectious and Charlie finds himself laughing as well, catching breaths of cold air.

Sam switches targets and instead circles back to tag Foolish who grins and takes off, not towards Sam but towards Charlie.

“Hey! Hey!” Charlie calls scrambling down the slide of the play structure as Foolish thunders up the steps. “We can talk about this.” He half screams as Foolish’s open plan manages to hit his back.

Charlie mock scowls. “Bastard.”

“Get fucked.” Another voice calls out and Charlie turns his sights on Fundy still on the swing.

Charlie darts off getting caught in a now empty swing. “I’ll get you.” He calls and there are various laughs spread around him.

Whirling around to get his revenge Charlie catches sight of Bad’s face smiling at him with a soft look in his eye, before Charlie can linger for to long he runs after Fundy.

Charlie’s headache and exhaustion are long forgotten in place of a biting wind that wakes him up and a rush of adrenaline that has him smiling wide.

It’s strangely exhilarating to run around like this, it’s strangely freeing.

Chapter Text

Puffy is getting bored. Or at least Foolish thinks so. He knows the signs, hyper attuned to each change in her mood or the way she acts towards him.

And Puffy is acting differently, even if Foolish wasn’t used to this particular song and dance, he would be able to figure out that something is up. The only problem is that Foolish has no clue what.

Puffy’s change in behavior is felt through the house by all of its inhabitants, not just Foolish. Dream has not attempted to run away in the past month, he has also taken to spending the least amount of time in the house as possible. Tubbo has been on his best behavior for a while and Foolish knows it has to be weighing on the kid.

The main problem is that none of them have done anything to actually warrant Puffy’s new distant and distracted sort of behavior. There has been nothing out of the ordinary that could have triggered it.

That leaves only one possible outcome of what it could be. Puffy is bored.

It’s not the first time a foster parent had gotten bored of him. Foolish knows that it is more common than it should be. Kids getting sent home when they no longer can act as something to be shown off or fixed.

Foolish has gotten sent to a few emergency placements because his foster parents had gotten bored. He was no longer something to be used to make them feel good so he was no longer needed.

In terms of reasons to be sent back it wasn’t the worst, but it always stung. Because it wasn’t his fault that they got bored, there was nothing Foolish could have done to stop it.

Though that’s not going to stop him from trying to change Puffy’s mind before she sends him away. Because Puffy is genuinely the best placement that Foolish has ever been put into.

Puffy leaves the food unlocked, and doesn’t care about grades or curfew, she hasn’t raised a hand or even her voice at any of them. Puffy is genuinely nice too, buying Foolish a pride flag to hang in his room, actually listening as Tubbo talks, and going to each of Dream’s wrestling matches.

So Foolish will try anything he can to get her to change her mind. He works harder than ever to change his B average to As and he helps out around the house whenever he can.

Tubbo needs help with homework while Puffy cooks dinner? Foolish can do it! He may have no fucking clue how to do long division but he’ll do his best.

Dream is in a mood? Foolish will do his best to get Dream as far away from Puffy as he can.

Puffy forgot to vacuum? Foolish already has it done.

On top of school, group, and football this change to his routine is all but running Foolish ragged. He’s more tired than ever at the end of the day and he is an anxious wreck constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s noticeable too, more than once Foolish’s coach has offered to let him sit out of lifting. A nice offer from a man who Foolish did not think was capable of empathy that almost made Foolish want to die.

Ponk and Sam have both taken to sending Foolish random text through the day about more or less nothing. A quiet attempt at checking in on him that warms Foolish’s heart.

Though Sam is a bit of a hypocrite because Foolish can tell something’s going on with him too. But Foolish also does not have the time to figure out what.

Instead most of Foolish free time is spent doing homework or house work or on a few rare occasions staring at the bi flag hanging on his wall wishing he could understand his own feelings.

Though again those feelings over Ponk have taken a bit of a back seat over the crushing feeling of anxiety that is doing it’s very best to drown Foolish.

If Puffy sends him back it just might succeed, Foolish’s future banks a lot on having a foster home while he’s applying for colleges. He has long since memorized the percentages of group home kids who make it into college versus the ones who end up homeless.

Of course the percentages don’t really mean anything because everyone is capable and Foolish knew quite a few group home kids growing up who ended up doing amazing things. But Foolish’s anxiety could care less about reason.

And of course drowning in his own anxiety isn’t going to do him any good. God Foolish Just wants good things, why are good things so hard to come by?

As if summoned by the thought two of the few good things in Foolish’s life, text him.

Ponk: I need a favor from one of you

Sam: ??

Foolish looks around to make sure everything is okay before responding. Thankfully he is just sat in the living room pretending to watch more cartoons with Tubbo to keep him company.

Foolish: what’s up Ponk?

Ponk: I forgot my pre calculus notes in class. Can one of you bring yours to dinner? Kiss for whoever says yes to me.

Foolish snorts at the text ignoring the way Ponk’s joke makes something in his cheeks heat.

Sam: I’m in calculus normal so I can’t help :/

Ponk: fuck you and your dad

Sam: fuck my dad leave me out of it unless you take me to dinner fist ;)

Foolish: ew
I’ll bring my notes ponk

Ponk: Thank you Foosh. I’ll kiss you. Sam can die for all I care.

Sam: really feeling the love tonight
Foolish I’m picking you up in 10 btw

Foolish: okay let me grab Ponk my notes.

~~~

The table is out, Foolish knows this even before he sees it because Quackity is standing in the doorway to the basement. Just stood there, and Foolish would bet good money that if he could see Quackity’s face he would be frowning, scowling really but same difference.

“What’s on the table?” Foolish asks startling Quackity into moving.

“Board games.” Quackity says with a tone that a normal person would use to describe a murder scene.

Foolish says nothing to that, opting instead to squeeze past Quackity and take a seat at the table Sam following behind him.

“Yes board games. That’s what we are doing today.” Bad says just in case they couldn’t put two and two together.

“Oh do tell how this relates to our issues.” Fundy grins.

“You asked!” Bad says grinning. “Board games are a great way to spend time with others and get your mind off what is troubling and it also allows for a bit of healthy competition between friends. It is important to allow yourself to feel things like anger and competition even if they may not be inherently good emotions.”

Foolish doesn’t say anything to Bad’s words, he plans on keeping his disagreement to Bad’s words to himself. Saying you think your therapist is wrong probably isn’t the best idea overall.

“Anyways. My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that I made some wonderful pasta. One bad thing about my week is that I dropped my phone and cracked it. Speaking of board games for today's fun question; what is your favorite board game? Mine would have to be uno.” Bad says.

“One, uno isn’t a board game.” Quackity interrupts. “Two, who did you make that food for, your husband?”

“What husband?” Bad counters.

“Okay…” Fundy says breaking the silence, “ignoring that. My name is Fundy. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I rewatched treasure planet. One bad thing about my week is that my earbuds got out in the washer and broke. My favorite board game is candy land.”

“It’s important to take time to do things you enjoy like watching movies.” Bad agrees nodding. “And it is always nice when the bad things are fixable, like getting new earbuds. Sam?”

“My name is Sam and I feel alright. One good thing About my week is that I made a pie and it was good. One bad thing about my week is that I had to work during a Friday night rush last week. I like playing clue.” Sam says.

“Good job on making something good yourself Sam.” Bad smiles. “Foolish?”

“I’m Foolish and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got a 100 percent on a test. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling a bit on edge. I like playing Sorry I guess.” Foolish says hoping in vain that Bad just moves on.

“Why are you feeling on edge?” Bad asks because why would Foolish have good things?

“I just have a lot on my plate with school and sports and such.” Foolish half lies. Apparently he lies well enough that Bad moves on.

“Alright make sure to remember that some things are out of your control and you need to take time for yourself.” Bad says before nodding to Charlie.

“My name is Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I played some D and D with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’m not sleeping well now to counter all the sleep I was getting before. My favorite board game is D and D.”

“Does that count as a board game?” Fundy asks. Charlie shrugs in response.

“Anyways! I’m Quackity and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I had no tests before the break. One bad thing about my week is that I have a group project in English. My favorite board game is guess who.” Quackity says ending their introductions.

“Alright! Now that we are done, we are playing or should I say you guys are gonna play clue.” Bad grins producing the board game as he talks.

Clue is not a game Foolish would typically consider to violent, but they fight their way through it, over who is cheating, read; Fundy and Quackity, who is what color, who is the murder; Sam apparently, and why the others are so wrong about everything.

It’s a loud racket that last the entire time they play the game and eventually even Bad gets tired of telling them not to swear. All in the end though, Foolish can say he has never enjoyed a board game more.

~~~

“Lying is a sin you know.” Ponk says grinning at Foolish after Foolish had responded to Ponk’s question of how he was with ‘good.’

“What did I do to you?” Foolish asks incredulously. “I brought you my notes.”

Ponk grins. “Doesn’t Foolish look like he isn’t telling the truth?” They ask Sam.

Both Foolish and Ponk turn to give Sam different looks, Foolish’s is begging and Ponk’s is more imploring.

“Pleading the fifth.” Sam attempts to dodge.

“That’s a yes.” Ponk says.

“No way.” Foolish argues with her.

“Alright both of you.” Sam laughs. “Foolish if there is something you want to talk about feel free Ponk stop pushing.”

Both of them pull faces at Sam but neither argue.

After a few seconds of no noise other than the jukebox playing some rock song Foolish cracks.

“Just worried Puffy is gonna get rid of me.” Foolish attempts to be nonchalant.

“What?” Sam asks. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Foolish lies. Then in a more joking tone “trauma.”

Ponk frowns bumping his knee with Foolish’s under the table. “Anything I can do to help?”

“This is great actually. Taking my mind off it.” Foolish smiles at them.

Sam shoots Foolish a look way too knowing but Foolish brushes him off, if Sam can be a hypocrite so can Foolish.

Thankfully Ponk seems more than willing to act as a distraction launching into an animated story about some kid managing to burn her paper mache lemon tree last year.

It’s a welcome fimilarity talking with Ponk and Sam and just acting like a normal teenager. It’s nice. Foolish plans to enjoy it while it lasts.

Chapter Text

Bad: what are all of your favorite books?

Charlie: why?

Bad: for today's part of the list :)

Charlie: oh. Duh

Sam: idk the maze runner

Fundy: I don’t read

Charlie: Percy Jackson

Quackity: you would like that wouldn’t you

Foolish: The hobbit

Quackity: the hunger games

Fundy: alright uhhhhhh
Keep this to yourself i guess

Bad: great thank you guys!

Quackity can see the folding chairs forming a circle in the basement, he can also see the books layer out on each chair. That’s why Bad wanted to know their favorite book.

“Are you just going to stand here or?” Charlie asks from behind Quackity.

Quackity flips him off over his shoulder but walks to his usual seat. Charlie follows beside him snickering.

There is a book on his seat. A large thick hardcover copy of The hobbit. With a quick scan at the other chairs Quackity can tell Bad seemingly at random gave each of them a book. Charlie has a copy of the first Hunger games book. Sam’s usual seat has Keep this to yourself sat innocently on it. Foolish has Percy Jackson and Fundy has the maze runner.

“I figured out today's bit.” Quackity says waving the book around. It is fucking heavy so Quackity sets it down right after. Foolish is crazy for willingly reading that.

“Have you?” Bad’s voice calls, making both Quackity and Charlie jump. Bad had entered the basement in near silence like some sort of demon.

“Yes.” Quackity says after a minute.

“Good! Wait until the others are here and we can talk about it.” Bad grins.

Charlie talks about something that happened in his math class and Quackity nods his head at all the right moments to make it seem like he is really listening. Quackity is almost 75% sure this is what friendship really is.

After a while the others arrive. Each of them taking in their books and most likely coming to the same horrible conclusion as Quackity.

“Alright now that everyone is here we can get started!” Bad grins after Fundy finally arrived five minutes later than he should have.

“Today we are gonna finish a good book! Well not really, instead all of you have been given a good book that someone else likes to read in your free time. Reading is a great way to escape reality for a bit and take your mind off of what worries you. It’s also great to be able to read and talk about a book you liked with friends.” Bad explains.

“So we’ll do our introductions, say our least favorite book genre and then read our new books for fifteen or so minutes before you are all free to go.” Bad continues.

“Anyways. My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that I got a lovely new plant. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a small headache. I’m not a fan of horror books.” Bad finally finishes.

Fundy goes next. “My name is Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that me and my mom got takeout last night. One bad thing about my week is that the smoke detector went off for no reason at like three AM. I don’t like romance novels.”

“It’s nice you and your mom spent time together.” Bad says nodding. “Sam?”

“I’m Sam and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that it’s spring break. One bad thing about my week is that I have no clue what is going on in calculus. I don’t like reading historical fiction.” Sam says.

“Having a break is always nice and you are very smart so I’m sure you’ll figure out what is going on.” Bad reassures.

“I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I made dinner last night and it was actually good. One bad thing about my week is that I’m still feeling stressed. I don’t like reading non-fiction.” Foolish says without prompting.

Before Bad can press Foolish too much Charlie cuts in. “My name is Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that me and my sister hung out without fighting. One bad thing about my week is that I have homework over break. I don’t like reading poetry all too much.” Charlie shrugs.

“It’s nice that you and your sister are getting along better and I’m sorry to hear about your workload.” Bad says before gesturing at Quackity that it is now his turn.

Sucking it up, Quackity opens his mouth and bullshits his way through an introduction. “My name is Quackity. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I slept in all week. One bad thing about my week is that it has gone by super fast. I don’t really like reading non-fiction either.”

“Great.” Bad says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s read for fifteen minutes then all of you are free to go.”

Quackity really has no interest in reading at all, much less the thick book he got forced onto him but he opens it anyways. Hopefully it will at least look like he is reading. If not he doesn’t really care.

But agianst his will Quackity’s eye begin to skim the words and suddenly he is a page in and invested in some fantasy book he never would have willingly picked up himself but suddenly he is.

Foolish apparently isn’t as crazy as Quackity once thought for willingly putting himself through this, because surprisingly the book is good.

Fast paced enough that Quackity doesn’t get bored but not rushed in the way most books feel.

It also definitely helps that he isn’t reading this book for a class. Any book he reads for a class ends up getting hated no matter how good it is. This one won’t though, even against Quackity’s will.

~~~

Quackity’s house isn’t haunted, contrary to the belief of all of the young children on their street who take in the closed shutters, cracked siding, and climbing ivy, and make assumptions that are only half true.

There is no woman in a white nightgown covered in blood, or a young girl giggling her way down the hall.

All there is inside of their home is Quackity, his mother, and his father. No ghost or ghouls or poltergeist to haunt their house and cast a curse on anyone that rings the doorbell.

If you were being more metaphorical you could say Quackity’s home is haunted by his mother, a woman who walks silently and stares off into a middle distance that only she can see.

Being haunted runs in the family, Quackity’s great grandfather a few times up apparently saw demons and he had a grandmother who was burned in some small down after a murder.

But Quackity himself isn’t haunted and as far as he is concerned neither is his home. His mother may be haunted but it isn’t by any sort of tangible horror. Just the past probably.

Quackity’s father isn’t haunted, though one day he probably will be, Quackity’s mother’s ghosts rubbing off on him.

But the house itself is not haunted, run down? Sure. Old as hell? Absolutely. Haunted? No way.

While Quackity can believe somethings that are unlikely; aliens, love, a handful of loose conspiracies. But Quackity can’t really believe in ghosts, not without proof at least.

And no proof is not the vengeful spirt that Beni and Cochi used to claim made the stairs creak in their childhood home. Proof isn’t the ghost of his grandfather that supposedly visited his grandmother in a dream once.

So no as far as Quackity is concerned ghosts are not real and he doesn’t care much either way. Most people don’t need ghosts to haunt them anyways.

That doesn’t stop others in believing ghost stories though. Quackity knows that well enough.

Proof of this would be the fact that in the two hours since Quackity has returned from group the doorbell has rung approximately four times. None of which have been actual people interested in getting the door open. Instead each ring had been done by some kid who was dared to approach the haunted house, and once the door opened they promptly ran off.

Next time the doorbell rings and Quackity has to lift his ass off of his bed to answer the door only to find no one there he is going to go all Karen on Facebook or something.

What the fuck is wrong with kids theses days? Disturbing Quackity’s peace, Quackity is pretty sure they could get arrested for that.

And sure part of Quackity gets it, the state of his house is less than ideal and the only people who live in it are the strange haunted woman who talks to no one, her husband only seen leaving for work, and Quackity himself who makes a point not to be seen around the neighborhood.

So objectively if Quackity were some other asshole little kid he might be doing the same shit. But still, it’s the principle of the damn thing. He should have peace in his own home, no matter how strange his family is.

Quackity had gotten enough teasing for it anyways as the little kid, he was the little Hispanic kid who spoke very little English and lived in a haunted house. Nothing about that was something that made him cool to the other kids his age. In fact they avoided him like the fucking plague.

Not all of them, Quackity did have one friend growing up, one who would snap back at all of the teasing and was unafraid to enter Quackity’s haunted house. But it’s better for everyone if Quackity didn’t linger on the thought for too long.

Instead Quackity focuses on other things. Currently it’s his new book, which on principle Quackity wanted to hate but had instead quickly got drawn into.

Technically Quackity also has a phone call running with Karl but neither of them have made any attempt at conversation in the last half an hour.

The main reason they were on call in the first place was because Karl apparently hated doing anything alone, including his math homework, which Quackity would be absolutely no help with. And even if they were not talking Karl still liked to have someone there.

Quackity secretly liked it a bit too, there was no expectations for how Quackity is supposed to act when they aren’t talking and can’t see each other. But it’s still nice to know that someone is there, to know that someone intentionally sought you out for something.

So Quackity doesn't mind too much as he listens to Karl speak quietly under his breath as he does homework or hum along to whatever song is stuck in his head.

It’s peaceful, more peaceful than hanging out with all of them in the same place ever is. Only interrupted by random questions and Quackity cursing out whatever kid keeps ringing the doorbell.

Quackity thinks he could do this exact thing willingly for the rest of his life with no complaints.

Not that he necessarily hates hanging out with the others either no matter how loud and chaotic they tend to be when they all get together. Quackity does actually enjoy hanging out with them, it’s nice. Friendly.

Quackity has friends. The idea itself is strange. Quackity’s life is full of acquaintances who he can hold a conversation with but there are very few people in his life who he would consider a friend.

But now he has friends. The idea is ridiculous, Quackity has friends, plural, like more than one person who can actively stand him. It’s strange. It’s nice. Fuck he has gone soft. It’s pathetic, truly.

But it’s also nice and new and eventually something is going to ruin it but Quackity can enjoy it while it lasts.

Chapter Text

Gym class in high school is a violation of the Geneva convention. Fundy isn’t sure what part but it’s definitely a violation of some kind.

The only people who actually take PE in high school are either people like Fundy who don’t do sports or band. Or the kids who enjoy PE but aren’t good enough to actually get on a sports team and instead make gym class miserable with their competitiveness.

Overall Fundy hates it and not just because he has to choose between being able to breathe and the familiar comfort of his binder.

He also hates it because he hates people.

To add onto that Fundy also hates any sort of physical exercise, he just isn’t made for it. Just on the edge of asthmatic with no desire to actually do any sort of exercise.

Which means when the gym teacher asks for a volunteer to go get some balls out of the storage closet near the weight room, Fundy volunteers without thinking of the consequences.

The weight room is just down the hall from the gym and as Fundy walks down the hall he can already hear the grunts from the room that is apparently in use.

It is not exactly a surprise as most sports players are treated as athletes first and students second. So coaches tend to pull them out of study halls to work out.

That is probably also a violation of something. Fundy just has no clue what.

The weight room doors are also open giving Fundy a clear and unwanted view inside. He ignores it in favor of opening the storage closet with the key his gym teacher gave him.

Someone laughs and Fundy takes a deep breath to remind himself that not everything is about him. They probably aren’t laughing at him and even if they are, who cares? It’s fine. It’s not his problem.

The closet door finally swings open, stopping just short of slamming into the wall.

“Hey Sally!” A laughing voice calls.

Fundy clenched his hand into the door imagining the indents his nails will leave in the wood. They were laughing at him apparently.

That checks out, his week was going too well anyways.

There’s the sound of some weights hitting the ground and whatever rap song is playing. Fundy focuses on that rather than the sounds of mocking voices as he robotically grabs the extra sack full of dodgeballs.

“C’mon pretty girl I’m sure you hear me.” A voice forces it way through and Fundy continues ignoring it.

“I didn’t know you were bi Andrew.” Another voice says. Fundy knows that voice, Fundy spends his Thursday evenings with that voice. Foolish.

“What! Dude that’s fucking disgusting. No way.” The first voice spits out.

“You are hitting on a dude though?” Foolish says voice confused and Fundy thinks Foolish’s tone might be one of sarcasm.

Finally Fundy cracks and turns his head, he can see one guy just standing in the doorway of the weight room with a sneer on his face. Foolish stands at a weight rack a few feet from the doorway but there is a pissed off look on his face.

“The freak isn’t a dude. I get that you're newer here Gamers but I expected you to figure that out by now.” The first guy says and Fundy can’t even remember his name.

“Don’t call Fundy a freak.” Foolish says simply.

“Oh so you know her name.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Fundy finally snaps feeling embarrassed and humiliated. He wants to hide away somewhere where this guy will never see him ever again.

He wants to disappear into the earth. He wants Foolish to stop defending him because then everyone will turn on him too and Fundy can’t bear to be the reason for that.

“Oh so it talks.” It’s still mocking. A few of the other guys in the weight room laugh. For the most part the majority of them just ignore what’s going on. The coach isn’t there.

“Dude shut up.” Fundy continues. “No one asked.” That also gets a few laughs but it does nothing to quell the shame building inside of Fundy.

“You shut up freak!” The guy snaps apparently not enjoying that his friends laughed at Fundy’s words. “God I don’t see why you are talking. You’re just a fucking-“

Fundy knows how that statement usually ends, while no one has ever been so pissed off as to call Fundy a slur to his face before he knows what the word that would come next would be.

Except the word never comes; instead Fundy watches, unable to do anything as Foolish slams a hand over the guy's mouth. Quickly the guy whirls around and throws a punch that misses Foolish by a mile.

Foolish responds in kind but he doesn’t miss and the people in the weight room start making noise. Fundy has no clue what they are saying though.

Footsteps make their way down the hall just as a brawl breaks out, the guy throws another punch and Foolish responds in turn until an actual fight is happening in front of Fundy and he can’t make his feet move. He is frozen and useless.

“What the fuck is going on here!” A voice yells as the footsteps finally make it to where Fundy is frozen. It’s the football coach finally returning just in time to watch the fight. Fundy wants to laugh hysterically.

Foolish and the other guy separate at the coach's voice. Foolish has what will turn into a black eye on his face and the other guy's nose is bleeding. Fundy is frozen.

“Who’s fault is this?” The coach asks, sounding pissed and Fundy remembers why he avoided the guy.

“Foolish’s!” The guy spits words slightly muffled by his own blood.

“Andrew threw the first punch.” Foolish says looking like he was shocked at how the events played out. Or scared maybe, Fundy isn’t sure.

“Mine.” Fundy says, making the coach turn to him with a pissed off look in his eye.

“Principal's office. All three of you. Now!” The coach says finally.

~~~

Bad: we are complementing each other today! Please have something nice to say to everyone

Charlie: getting the vibe that there is an unspoken or else in that text.

Fundy stares at his phone blankly, not even bothering to respond to Bad from the passenger seat of Phil’s car.

The tension that has been there since Phil and Kristin got called to the school because of the fight still lingers and Fundy wants to explode.

He knows that Phil and Kristin aren’t angry at him. Angry is not an emotion either of them use. But there is this unspoken tension. They seem to think Fundy is made of glass, like any mention of the fight will make him shatter.

Phil pulls into the church and parks but before Fundy can leave he clears his throat. Fundy turns to look at him.

Phil’s eyes shine with worry and the sort of tiredness Fundy thinks you get automatically after raising a kid. “Tell Bad what happened today.” Phil says or maybe asks. “His job is to help.”

Fundy feels a prick of guilt at the words, like Phil had called him out for all the half lies he told Bad.

“Of course.” He agrees and Fundy surprises himself by actually meaning it.

“Thank you.” Phil says as Fundy leaves the car and enters the church.

Everyone but Foolish and Sam are already sitting on folding chairs in the church's basement. With little fanfare Fundy takes his own seat.

“Woah! Foolish, what happened to you?” Charlie says and everyone turns to watch Foolish and Sam enter the basement.

Foolish has a black eye and his knuckles are bruised but he offers them a smile.

“You should see the other guy.” Fundy jokes hoping to break the tension.

“What?” Bad says looking panicked.

“I got in a fight at school.” Foolish shrugs.

“Why?” Bad asks

“He was mocking Fundy and he’s always such a homophobic and sexist dick that I just lost my temper. I talked with Puffy about it.” Foolish says.

“About?”

“That she understands why I did it and she’s not getting rid of me and while I was in the right I should try to not fight people.” Foolish mumbles. “Can we start the session?”

“Looking for an out huh?” Quackity observes.

“We can talk about this one on one, Foolish.” Bad says calmly. “Let’s jump into today's session. On the list we are doing compliments from strangers. Instead of strangers of course we are going to be complementing each other after our introductions.”

“Getting complimented also makes you feel something, pride, or joy, or something else. It’s just something nice. People like to hear that something about them is worth taking notice of. For today’s introduction I want you to add on a complement to yourself then we’ll all say something we like about the person that just went. Sounds fun right?” Bad asks.

“Sounds gay.” Quackity responds and he just grins when Bad shoots him a look.

“Anyways. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that we had a family game night Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I burnt dinner last night by accident. As for my complement; I am a very smart person even if I make mistakes.” Bad says smiling. “Fundy your turn.”

Fundy wants to explode again. God he hates having this much attention on him even if it’s just the rest of the group.

“My name is Fundy. I feel tense. One good thing about my week was that it was super good up until today. One bad thing about my week was that I got suspended…” Fundy trails off attempting to think of his own redeeming qualities. “I like when I code good so that it runs right.”

“Getting suspended isn’t good. But I’m glad the rest of your week has been good. I like that you are so lively.” Bad says smiling at Fundy.

“You're always willing to help.” Foolish says.

“You’re very open and I think it’s a bit inspiring.” Charlie says and Fundy wonders if he is the most open. It’s a low bar, one he could reach.

“You are very resourceful.” Sam compliments.

“You're funny.” Quackity says.

Fundy has to fight a grin from forming on his face.

“My name is Sam.” Sam says after a minute. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that Ponk made me a bracelet. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling very out of it. I like my hair.”

“I like how you think of others.” Bad compliments.

“You care. A lot.” Foolish says smiling.

“Can I also say your hair? Because I really like your hair.” Charlie says.

“You’re super smart.” Quackity shrugs.

“I like when you make jokes.” Fundy offers.

Foolish goes next. “I’m Foolish. I feel tense as well. One good thing is that I’m not as anxious. One bad thing about my week is that I am also suspended.” Foolish laughs. “I like when I help people.”

“I also like how compassionate you are, Foolish.” Bad agrees

“I like your smile.” Sam grins

“I like that you are so friendly.” Quackity says.

“I like that you listen when I talk.” Charlie says. “You’re very good at holding two sided conversations. Most people aren’t.

“Would it be messed up if I said I liked how nice it was that you punched that guy?” Fundy jokes

Bad opens his mouth, probably to scold Fundy but Charlie cuts in

“Anyways. My name is Charlie and I feel fine.” Charlie continues. “One good thing about my week is that I got a B on my math test. Which is an improvement. One bad thing about my week is that no one thinks a B is good enough. I like how imaginative I am.”

“I like that you always try your best.” Bad praises

“I like your humor.” Quackity cuts in.

“I like how nice you always are.” Fundy says.

“I like when we talk as well.” Foolish nods.

“I like your cool green glasses.” Sam says and Charlie grins.

“My turn. I’m Quackity and I feel whatever. One good thing about my week is that I’m done with all of my homework. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been isolated. I like my beanie.”

“I like your jokes Quackity but I don’t think your beanie counts-“ Bad starts only to be cut off by Charlie’s excited words.

“I like how you pretend not to like us when you really do.”

This time it is Quackity’s protest that are cut off by Sam’s words. “I like how little you care about what people think.”

“I like that you aren’t afraid to be loud.” Foolish adds on throughtfully.

“I like how smart you actually are under all that.” Fundy says.

And he means it. He really does enjoy spending his time with these people who see him how he is. He thinks he sees them as well.

Chapter Text

It is an unusually warm April Thursday and Bad has seemingly chosen to take advantage of that with today's activity.

By the time Sam parks his truck in the church’s parking lot and gets out he has a perfect view of Bad, Fundy, and Charlie already sitting on the asphalt closer to the church’s entrance with a bucket of chalk sitting next to Bad.

“Chalk.” Foolish observes from beside Sam. “He wants us to play with chalk. I know Quackity is joking when he asks if Bad knows how old we are but really?”

Sam snorts, elbowing Foolish. “You aren’t into this?” He jokes. “This seems like your thing.”

“Dick.” Foolish counters. Sitting down in the semi-circle that the others have formed.

Quackity arrives quickly after Sam and Foolish do, joining the others with only the appropriate amount of complaining.

“Alright we’re all here.” Bad smiles. “Today we are going to draw a mural with chalk, or a few different murals. It’s always great to do fun activities outside and be outside in the fresh air. It’s also great to create something with your own two hands. To put your own beauty out into the world. Chalk is also a fun activity I’m sure many of you did when you were young so it’s a great way to connect to the joy you felt in your youth.”

“Now, my name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that it’s been such lovely weather. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got to mow the lawn at some point. Let’s do our favorite colors as our question this week, mine is red.” Bad says.

As is tradition at the point, Fundy goes next. “My name is Fundy. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that my suspension is over which is good. One bad thing about my week is that I actually had to go to school. My favorite color is orange.” Fundy says.

“Is the orange thing because of your hair or a furry thing?” Quackity asks.

Fundy doesn’t bother responding and instead flips him off much to Bad’s chagrin. “Language Fundy. I’m glad you are back in school though, education is very important.”

Sam knows that by this point he should go next because no one else will. “My name is Sam.” He starts. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that we celebrated Passover with my family. One bad thing about my week is that I can’t pay attention in any of my classes for some reason. My favorite color is green.”

It’s probably a bit too much detail on something that really was not the worst part of his week but it gets a laugh from Charlie, so Sam figures it’s fine. He could have said worse.

“It’s always nice to celebrate with your family.” Bad says nodding. “Foolish?”

“I’m Foolish. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I got full marks on my art project. One bad thing about my week is that I’m being iced out by the football team, though that’s not really that bad.” Foolish snorts at his own joke and out of the corner of his eye Sam can see Fundy tense. “I’d say my favorite color is gold or, like, emerald green.” Foolish finishes oblivious.

“Good job on your project I’m sorry you are having trouble with the team though.” Bad starts and Sam thinks he’s going to say more but Bad stays quiet long enough that Charlie does his introduction.

“My name is Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got to hang out with my friends yesterday. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t been sleeping well. My favorite color is also green.” Charlie says smiling.

“I’m glad you have people to spend time with.” Bad says smiling back at Charlie. “Your turn Quackity.”

“I’m Quackity. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I’ve done practically nothing in class. One bad thing about my week is that my dad got sick so I probably will too. My favorite color is blue.” Quackity says.

“Alright!” Bad says grinning. “Let’s get to drawing.”

Fundy doesn’t hesitate to grab an orange piece of chalk and start making vague shapes that Sam is sure will eventually turn into something understandable.

The rest of them quickly follow suit. Charlie announces he is drawing a slime then he starts bugging Quackity until he admits he plans on making a duck. Bad chimes in encouraging Quackity to make a full on duck pond, Quackity grumbles that this but he grabs a blue piece of chalk nonetheless and Sam can see Bad grin.

Foolish has already started making a mural and Sam is sure it will be better than the rest of theirs combined.

Sam racks his brain for something he thinks he can draw without utterly fucking it up. He settled on some chalk flowers, while basic it’s something bright and cheerful enough that Sam is sure Bad will like it.

The draw in silence only interrupted by bird chirps or random bits of conversation that mean next to nothing.

By the time Bad dismisses them so they can leave there are several brightly colored chalk drawings littering the otherwise cracked and boring church parking lot.

A small blue pond with a yellow duck, its head is a bit too big for its body but it’s otherwise well drawn.

A colony of differently colored slime balls with faces.

The collection of flowers that Sam drew that are surrounded by some green grass and not much else.

A surprisingly well drawn orange fox.

And Foolish’s incredibly well drawn Egyptian statue of some kind. Sam has no clue who the statue is of but it has an amazing level of detail for being drawn in chalk.

Before he and Foolish leave Sam snaps a quick photo of each drawing with his phone, he is sure Ponk would want to see them.

Getting into his truck Sam realizes his hands are stained with multicolored chalk dust.

~~~

“That’s an ugly fucking duck.” Ponk says squinting at Sam’s phone from where it rests on the diner table between them.

“You’re so judgmental.” Sam says more out of habit than actual defense of Quackity’s misshapen duck.

“It isn’t judgment if I’m right.” Ponk argues.

“Pretty sure it still is.” Foolish hums.

There is the sound of Ponk’s sneaker hitting the pole that is holding the table up, obviously she attempted to kick Foolish for his comment and missed horribly.

The door over the diner chimes its happy tube and Ponk lights up like he remembered something.

“I want to go to prom.” He announces, Sam slides his phone back towards him from the table.

“Okay.” Foolish nods.

“No.” Sam says knowing Ponk well enough to know exactly where they are going with this. This exact thing is how Sam ended up getting dragged to homecoming his freshman year.

Ponk actually manages to hit Sam when he kicks him. “Don’t be a loser.” Ponk demands.

“Foolish who are you going with?” Sam asks, ignoring Ponk.

“Uh, I don’t know. I might not go. I was going to go with the football guys but, you know…” Foolish trails off.

“Go with Ponk.” Sam says. “Boom. Done solved, no dragging me with you.”

“But Sammie.” Ponk attempts to sway him. Before Sam can crack like some sort of spineless fool the waitress arrives.

Sam’s pretty sure she is only half listening to their orders, probably knowing them already but he doesn’t really care. It barely takes a minute until she leaves agian. They tip her well enough that she usually leaves them to their own devices, it’s a great deal.

“We could all go together.” Foolish points out then he pulls a face. “I meant that in a less gay sounding way but oh well.”

“Gay.” Ponk grins like Sam can’t see the yarn pride flag bracelet on their wrist.

“Nah I’m good thanks.” Sam dismisses.

“I’ll just talk about going to prom in front of Fran. That’s how I got Sam to go with me to homecoming.” Ponk tells Foolish conspiratorially.

“Ponkie.” Sam tries even though he knows fully well that it takes more for Ponk to cave than it does to get Sam to.

“You could get a date dude.” Foolish suggests. “You wouldn’t just have to hang out with us.”

“Sam loves hanging out with us.” Ponk says mock offended.

“You know me.” Sam drawls out sarcastically. “A real ladies man.”

Foolish blushes a bit and Sam counts his sarcasm as a win. “You’re impossible.” Foolish gripes.

Sam shoots him a grin opening a game of Tetris on his phone.

“Please.” Ponk attempts and Sam pointedly does not look up at her. Something about knowing someone as well as you know anything makes it easier for you to bend to their whims, even their stupid ones.

In his game of Tetris he gets two red squares and lets them stack one on top of the other before laying a pink L piece down horizontally.

“Bitch.” Ponk relents.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.” Sam grins.

Foolish starts laughing, his squeaky Windex bottle type laugh that Sam knows has to be authentic because there is no way he could fake that. Sam can feel a grin fighting its way onto his face.

Blue S piece on top of the L piece, then Sam adds a long orange vertical line piece and he clears a line.

They sit in silence for a minute and Sam hates it more than most other things so he quickly searches for a topic of conversation.

“Do you think you’d survive the purge?” Sam asks fumbling for a topic that will make him sound like a normal person.

His thumb also fumbles and he misplaces another S piece.

“It’s only twenty four hours, right?” Foolish asks, apparently willing to go along with Sam’s strange topic change.

“Yeah.” Sam confirms.

“Oh yeah for sure then.” Foolish nods.

“I would hole myself up in a basement until it ended so I would definitely win.” Ponk says.

“You don’t technically win it.” Sam says.

“I guess living is the prize.” Foolish jokes.

There is a joke on the tip of Sam’s tongue about Foolish of all people being the one to say that but he forces it down. Instead Sam shuts his phone off abandoning the game of Tetris.

“What if someone breaks in to kill you?” Sam asks Ponk.

“I don’t know.” Ponk shrugs. “Fight back and kill them or die.”

“Lame.” Sam teases, Ponk rolls his eyes but doesn’t do much else.

Before they can delve any further into their bickering the waitress reappears with their food and they quickly abandon all conversation in place of eating quickly.

The food isn’t really that good, not that it is bad by any means, it’s just not that good. At this point Sam is pretty sure the only reason they eat at the diner every week is because of the familiarity of it. Well that and the jukebox probably.

~~~

“So prom?” Sam's mother asks as he enters the house.

“Delete Ponk’s number from your phone.” Sam begs her kicking his shoes off.

“How else would I know when you plan to skip out on important teenage events.” Sam’s mother grins.

“Do you hate me?” Sam asks, flopping down onto the couch next to his mom.

“No, I love you. I love you so much in fact that I think you should go.” Fran smiles.

Sam pulls a face at his mom who just laughs.
“Think about going? Apparently you’d be Foolish not to. The text wasn’t very clear.”

“Foolish is going with them.” Sam corrects. “A friend of ours. He is in Ponk’s art class and he goes to group.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I’m glad you're branching out baby.” It’s soft and heartfelt.

Sam shrugs. The house is silent and Sam enjoys it. After his father left two weeks ago it has been mostly quiet since. Of course there is the ever hanging threat of his return and fight for custody but Sam does his best not to think about it.

Sam hums after a minute of just sitting with his mother. “I’ll think about going.” He relents knowing fully well he won’t end up going if he has his way.

School dances are always great in theory but they end up with Sam in the corner bored out of his mind, wearing uncomfortable clothes.

Sam stands up to go take a shower. He just wants to get the rest of today over with.

“Thank you.” Fran calls out.

“Love you.” Sam calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t hear it but he knows his mother responds in kind.

Chapter Text

Charlie watches as Condi makes his way through a sheet of history homework. Technically Charlie should be doing the same, they both have the same history class and they were supposed to be working on their homework together.

But that was a lot of effort Charlie did not currently feel like exerting. So instead he watches as Condi walks himself through the five stages of grief over some worksheet. Charlie has no clue what the worksheet is on to be honest.

Probably whatever history time period they are on? But again Charlie has no clue what that is and he can’t be bothered to figure it out right now.

The sound of one of Condi’s baby siblings screaming makes its way into the room and Condi huffs out a sigh.

“Are you actually going to do anything dude?” He asks.

Charlie shoots him a ‘you know me better than that’ look.

“Dude.” Condi groans, staring blankly at his homework.

“I don’t even know what we are learning about in class right now.” Charlie shrugs unbothered by Condi’s apparent disappointment.

Condi looks at him baffled. “Dude you scare me sometimes.”

“I can’t be bothered.” Charlie shrugs.

“You should be.” Condi huffs but Charlie can sense a bit of underlying tension in his words.

“That’s so much work though.” Charlie whines

“You're going to have to repeat this year though.” Condi says his voice mimicking Charlie’s whiny tone.

That is technically likely. Charlie’s been surfing through this year on a comfortable B or C average depending on the class. It’s something that his parents hate and his teachers call a waste of talent.

The number of times Charlie has been pulled aside in class to be told that he is a smart kid but he doesn’t apply himself could be counted on two hands. Really they are just telling him things he already knows. But Charlie just can’t seem to find the motivation to do anything about it.

It’s hard to change your ways when you are so accustomed to them.

“Do your homework.” Condi demands attempting to re-focus on his own.

Charlie makes no move to grab his backpack from the floor or pull any of his work out of it. History just isn’t interesting enough to make Charlie want in any capacity to learn about it right now.

Besides if he asks nicely enough Condi will end up giving him the answers anyways. That definitely won’t help Charlie learn or understand any of it in time for the next test but it will still give him something to turn in.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, Condi doing his school work and Charlie scrolling idly through his phone not really processing anything in front of him.

This is the peak of bonding in Charlie’s opinion doing different things in quite near each other. No words needing to be said, just each other’s presence.

A text notification pops down from the top of Charlie’s screen making his phone buzz. At the noise Condi shoots him a look but doesn’t bother scolding him. Condi knows it won’t work anyways.

Bad: we are going to the thrift shop today 0-o

Fundy: ?

Quackity: if it was anyone other than Bad I’d assume this was a classist joke

Sam: I didn’t know you knew what classism was Q, it’s a big word

Quackity: manifesting bad things happening to you

Charlie: sounds fun

It doesn’t really sound fun at all but Charlie is not going to be honest with Bad. None of them ever are really. Charlie hopes the poor man is paid well with how hard it must be to do his job.

Quackity’s insistence that he’s gay might also make his job a bit harder. Well Bad is definitely gay and doing a really poor job of covering it up but still.

Foolish: the goal at the thrift store?

Bad: to find something fun

Foolish: okay?

Sam: that’s where Ponk gets their shirts

Foolish: oh… oh no

Charlie ignores whatever weird thing Sam and Foolish have going on in favor of imagining doing literally anything else with his spare time in the afternoons on Thursday. It may be his fault he has to go to group but he doesn’t have to like it.

Charlie doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to really. It’s a strange idea, the fact that he has total control of his life, or as much control as a sixteen year old does. He can dye his hair, and tank his grades, he could cut off all his friends, or he could run away and end up homeless.

It’s freedom but it’s also not because he really can’t do any of those things. Not without losing his home and everything he knows. He could do those things but there isn’t a reality where he does.

So yes, Charlie could ruin his life, and maybe with the way his grades are right now he may be. But he also can’t bring himself to intentionally do something big again. It took years to get it to the point it was, a desperate attempt to feel in control. Now Charlie takes control in smaller ways.

Ways like forcing himself out of Condi’s bed to open his backpack and pull out his homework. Even though his head feels a million miles away and he has no motivation he starts his homework, taking control of his life in a small positive way.

It’s one of those little tactics that Charlie definitely learned in group and would rather die than tell anyone actually worked. He liked feeling in control though, he liked feeling like what he did mattered so he used the little trick. Like he can somehow convince his brain everything is okay.

“We can check our answers when you're done.” Condi nodded at Charlie’s worksheet.

“Good deal.” Charlie grins.

~~~

In terms of places Charlie has complicated feelings on, Bad’s van is uncomfortably high on the list. On one hand Charlie dislikes group and everything that comes with it, on the other recently the sessions have been more fun. Crazy how that works. The moment they stop focusing solely on therapy, Charlie actually enjoys it.

But no matter Charlie’s complex feelings on the Van that is where he is stuck today. Bad’s loaded them up into the van and started driving them towards the thrift shop.

“We’re trying to find a hidden treasure today, something someone has already gotten rid of that can be reclaimed and loved again. Thrift stores are great for their sustainability and their prices.” Bad explains.

“But they also allow me to make a point on second lives, each item in the thrift shop is getting a second life, just like we are. So we’re going to find something along with ourselves to give a second life too.” Bad continues.

From next to him Charlie can see Quackity mocking Bad’s words. Charlie empathizes with him, though it is almost impressive how Bad connects some of these activities to healing.

“Anyways, my name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I started a new book. One bad thing about my week is that a relative recently passed.” Bad says, they all chime in with condolences and Bad continues. “I can’t think of a related question, so what are all of your favorite foods? Mine is chicken Alfredo pasta.”

“I’m Fundy, I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I haven’t heard anything mean said about me all week. One bad thing about my week is that I had five whole tests this week. I like pizza.” Fundy says.

“I’m glad people have been nicer.” Bad says. “Sam?”

“My name is Sam. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have work this week. One bad thing about my week is that my hearing aid battery died yesterday so I had to replace that. I guess my favorite food is like chicken wings or something.” Sam shrugs.

Foolish goes next. “My name is Foolish and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have lifting this week. One bad thing about my week is that Dream is picking fights again. My favorite food is probably fish of some kind.”

“I’m sorry you are having problems with Dream Foolish.” Bad hums. “Charlie it's your turn.”

Charlie doesn’t really want to go at all but he sucks it up. “I’m Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I spent time with Condi earlier and I like hanging out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I totally failed my last math test. My favorite food is spaghetti.”

“I’m sure you did fine on the test.” Bad reassures him. “If not, it's okay as well. Finally, Quackity.”

“My name is Quackity. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with Karl. One bad thing about my week is that my chest feels really tight, probably just anxiety. My favorite food is definitely my aunt's tamales.”

“If the anxiety doesn’t clear up I’d talk to a doctor.” Bad advises.

Quackity shrugs noncommittally and they stew in silence for a few minutes longer before arriving at the thrift shop.

Bad sends them in telling them he’ll wait in the car until they want to leave.

The thrift store has that smell that all thrift shops seem to, musty air, dust, and disinfectant. There are racks of different articles of clothing sorted by men’s and women’s near the front. The back holds old plates, furniture, and books.

“Alright scatter, find something quick.” Fundy jokes.

“What the fuck are we even meant to find?” Quackity asks, looking idly at a sweater.

Charlie shrugs. “Something we like I guess. I have no clue.”

Fundy breaks off heading towards the men’s shirts while Quackity continues to inspect the sweaters.

“Blue one acquired.” Quackity announces presenting a simple dark blue sweater.

“It’s cropped.” Foolish points out.

“I’m not a bitch.” Quackity continues, “what do you want Charlie?”

“I’ve got no clue man.” Charlie shrugs in answer.

“I’ve got this.” Fundy chimes in presenting a ceramic fox cookie jar.

“You’ve got some kind of weird furry sixth sense.” Quackity accuses staring at the cookie jar. “It’s been like five minutes and you already found the only fox theme thing here.”

“It’s a talent. I’m not a furry.” Fundy huffs.

“Sure talent.” Charlie jokes.

“Alright you three, find something.” Fundy points at Charlie, Sam, and Foolish.

Charlie scans through the clothes hanging nothing catches his eyes so he continues on through the racks of clothes towards the back where the books are.

Charlie isn’t really all that big of a book reader but a familiar title catches his eye. One of the official DND fifth edition player's guides, it’s marked as five dollars which is an absolute steal.

Charlie grabs the book without thinking, a physical copy would be way better than the pirated digital copy he had been using before.

By the time he finds the others again Sam has let Quackity pick him out a green sweater that might be a match to Quackity’s blue one. Foolish has also picked up a messy set of cups that barely match, the cups are clearly hand made.

Near the register Charlie scans the records on display but none catch his eye. He does however see Foolish also scan the jewelry.

“I should pierce my ears.” Foolish says offhandedly.

“Do it.” Charlie encourages without thinking.

“Think through your choices.” Sam says but he grabs the small gilded studs out of Foolish’s hand and buys them with his sweater.

“I think earrings are kinda gay.” Quackity hums earning a look from the poor underpaid cashier.

“You're kinda gay.” Fundy snaps back.

“You're mean to me.” Quackity mock sighs.

Charlie quickly pays for his book, smiling at the cashier and heading back to join the others.

While Charlie doesn’t think the book or he are getting a second life he can’t help but feel excited about his new find.

Chapter Text

Foolish has had a frankly miserable week and it’s only Thursday.

The conflicts with the football team are only getting worse as Foolish gets closer to losing his temper again with each passing remark.

Dream has been up in arms about something, though Foolish has no clue what, and making the house a frankly inhospitable area.

Foolish’s ever present anxiety, the kind you get for free when being in the system, has been getting worse. For seemingly no reason too, he’s just anxious all the time now and the littlest thing can set him off.

And finally Foolish has spent the last three nights getting very little sleep after Ponk sent him a text at 11:43 simply responding to a joke foolish made, dude you say that as if I wouldn’t be so down to date you which as led to several different crises and new anxieties.

The anxieties aren’t good either, being anxious isn’t good especially to the degree Foolish does it but it’s worse when he makes all his worst decisions on the cusps of panic attacks, decisions like the one that led to Foolish being in Sam’s truck right now heading to group therapy of all things.

Idly Foolish wonders if he had been born any other kid, any other kid with a normal family, would his life have turned out different? Would he have this horrible crushing anxious weight on his chest still?

The truck hits a pothole and Foolish snaps back to attention as Sam swears cursing out the Church's shitty parking lot.

But looking at Sam for too long just brings Foolish’s thoughts back to Ponk and his undeniable infatuation with them. Looking at someone else shouldn’t probably make Foolish feel this gay but it’s Sam so maybe it doesn’t count.

They manage to make it all the way into the church basement with Foolish’s traitorous thoughts wandering again.

That only lasts until he sees the basement. There’s a bunch of folding chairs and a table brought out from storage along with a crap ton of blankets and pillows.

Sam and Foolish are the last two in the basement and when Bad sees them he grins.

“We are making blanket forts.” He announces. Foolish for a second has to send a mental apology out to Quackity for any mean thought he ever had about him and his reactions to Bad. Quackity is right, Bad must think they are children.

Sam and Foolish take their seats though without either of them voicing their complaints.

“We’re making blanket forts because while it is a bit juvenile it is a great way to connect with the fact that you are all still children and you deserve to have juvenile fun and blanket forts are a way of offering protection even if it’s just imaginary because most of our threats are not physical.” Bad explains with a smile.

“Let’s start today's session. My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that we got to go out to dinner on Tuesday to celebrate Sapnap getting his drivers license. One bad thing about my week is that my allergies have been off the chart lately. My favorite childhood game would probably be red rover even though it was very dangerous.” Bad says.

Fundy goes next. “My name is Fundy. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I got a haircut. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been super worried about my AP exam. My favorite childhood game was tag.”

“Try not to worry about it too much, Fundy. One bad grade isn’t the end of the world and you are very smart. Sam?” Bad prompts.

“My name is Sam. I’m alright. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been re-watching old movies I like. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been sleeping really poorly. My favorite childhood game was probably hide and seek.” Sam says.

“I’m sorry you’ve been sleeping poorly Sam.” Bad says before looking at Foolish expectantly.

“My name is Foolish.” Foolish starts. “I feel okay. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been very anxious. One good thing about my week is that I got a good grade on some chemistry work. My favorite childhood game was also tag.”

Bad shoots Foolish a look that lets him know they will be talking more about this in one on ones before moving on.

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got to play some D and D. One bad thing about my week is that I’m losing motivation. My favorite childhood game was twister.” Charlie says.

“I’m glad you got to do something you enjoy this week. I’m sorry about the lack of motivation. Maybe try riding those urges to do things when you get them instead of putting them off. Or reward yourself for doing small things.” Bad says.

Quackity finally finishes their introductions. “I’m Quackity and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I’m getting slushies with friends after school tomorrow. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been zoning out in class. My favorite childhood game was four squares.”

“I'm glad you are able to branch out and spend time with people you consider friends.” Bad smiles. “Now go make a blanket fort.” He shoos them off.

They are less hesitant about actually doing Bad’s childish idea this time. But they are also five teenage boys being asked to build something large and structurally sound. While Sam and Foolish both like that sort of thing the rest of them do not.

It takes over half an hour of them arguing and bickering with each other while constructing their blanket fort for it to be finished.

It’s got a caving in blanket roof and it’s pretty structurally unsound over all. If it were an actual building Foolish wouldn’t want to step foot inside of it at all. Especially with the fact that half the blankets are an ugly floral pattern.

But it’s a blanket fort show when Sam grins at him and grabs Foolish’s arm to tug him in with the others Foolish doesn’t put up a fight. He had fun making it no matter how bad it was.

“This isn’t too bad.” Fundy says after the five of them get settled.

“Yeah. Honestly I expected worse.” Charlie shrugs and almost in a sense of universal comedy, the blanket fort collapses around them.

“Crap.” Sam deadpans.

Foolish can’t help but burst out laughing, the anxiety in his chest lessening.

~~~

Foolish isn’t a romantic person at heart. He likes love and he loves a good hallmark movie don’t get him wrong but seeing Ponk as he walks into the diner doesn’t make his heart skip a beat or his breath catch. It just makes Foolish happy.

“Hey Foolish!” Ponk greets smiling. Both Sam and Foolish’s usual drink are already sat infront of their seats.

“Spine-less.” Ponk also greets Sam who just sighs.

Foolish knows what they are referring to last week when Sam had caved to Foolish and Ponk’s joint begging for him to join them at prom. They wanted to go as a group of friends and Foolish most definitely cannot fit in Ponk’s little beetle car.

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep then cry at your funeral like a mourning window to prove my innocence.” Sam announces.

“You’d be my widow?” Ponk asks. “Sounds pretty gay.”

“Foolish.” Sam diverts his attention to Foolish. “I’ll do a really embarrassing prom-posal to you if you want. We should just leave Ponk.”

“Get a mariachi band.” Ponk encourages them because they are used to Sam’s empty threats.

“Some kid got prom-posed to in my chemistry class earlier.” Foolish recalls. “She said no.”

“Good for her.” Sam nods.

“Sucks that she had to be out on the spot though.” Ponk says. “That’s why I hate public’s stuff like that because there is all this pressure to say yes. And if you say no you look like a dick. It’s a lose-lose.” He rants.

Foolish files the information away for later use on the off chance he stops being such an anxious loser.

“Oh, speaking of prom.” Sam starts. “Are we getting dinner before because shits gonna be packed.”

“We could eat here.” Ponk shrugs.

“We eat here every week. We can go somewhere different.” Foolish offers.

Sam nods his head. “Any ideas.”

“Dream’s friend George reserved a table at the seafood place on west street. It’s nicer.” Foolish shrugs. Honestly he couldn’t care less either way, he was just excited to have fun with his friends.

“I thought Dream was in Quackity’s year?” Sam asks, looking confused.

“Yeah they aren’t going to prom George just didn’t want someone going to prom to have the table.” Foolish relays the words Dream said to Puffy at dinner Monday.

“That’s a power move.” Ponk laughs his eyes scrunching up and shining with mirth.

Foolish makes the conscious effort to stop staring like a freak.

“Bust Quackity’s little date night with our own.” Sam snorts.

“God we would never hear the end of it.” Foolish jokes.

“Great. Our group color is what?” Ponk asks. “I need to get a dress.”

“You don’t have a dress already?” Sam asks, baffled.

“We did just decide we were going.” Foolish defends Ponk.

“Well I was going to wear a suit but I did say I wanted to wear a dress when I decided to make you come. I’m a person of my words.” Ponk shrugs.

“Won’t all the nice ones have been bought already?” Foolish asks curious about what the official politics of prom dresses are.

“Probably. But I can get a basic one and have my mom do some hemming or something.” Ponk explains. “The sooner you go the more options there are but I don’t really care that much. Not like I need to impress you two.”

Ponk already impresses Foolish with their wit and cool art and just general disposition but Foolish is pretty sure that isn’t what he is talking about.

“Why do you no longer strive to impress me?” Sam asks sarcastically.

“The blood pact went through, you can’t leave. Foolish is the real concern here. He could get other friends.” Ponk grins.

“You two don’t have other friends?” Foolish asks followed by. “That sounded meaner than I meant.”

“I’m the weird gender non-conforming kid with one arm.” Ponk deadpans and Foolish must pull a face because she laughs.

“They also have a British accent.” Sam adds on earning a kick under the table from Ponk.

“You're also a gay green haired loser, don’t get so high and mighty.” Ponk huffs.

Foolish isn’t sure why it surprises him. It makes sense because people are assholes but still he felt that people would gravitate towards the others.

What a match they make, Foolish who has people he can talk to but no fitness and Ponk and Sam who have each other and don’t seem to care.

An Elvis song starts playing over the jukebox and Sam groans. “ We need to find somewhere else to eat.” He jokes.

“You complain when my sea shanties play as well.” Ponk points out.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because of the fact that they are sea shanties.” Foolish points out. “That’s a weird thing to request.

“Foolish.” Ponk gasps in mock hurt.

“I’m sorry. It’s your one true flaw.” Foolish matches Ponk’s over dramatic tone.

“You are obviously blinded by love if you think that is their only flaw.” Sam drawls.

For a second Foolish is worried Sam somehow knows about the sleep Foolish has lost in fear of ruining his first friendship in so long. But he smiles at Foolish tight lipped but with eyes full of laughter and Foolish realizes it is just a joke.

Foolish is fine. Sam doesn’t know which means Ponk doesn’t know so it’s fine. He is doing a perfectly fine job of acting normal.

Maybe if he just stamps it down hard enough it will go away. That's definitely the opposite of what is being taught in therapy.

Then Sam says something and Ponk laughs bright and loud followed by Sam smiling teeth on full desplay, and Foolish realizes he is twice as fucked as he though.

Chapter Text

Quackity has been having a capital W week. A Week week if you will. It’s been long and miserable and he is probably dying.

The more time he spends around Karl and Sapnap and the others the more anxious he seems to become.

He knows why he is so messed up about the whole friendship thing. He’s catastrophizing and it’s definitely not a good thing but it is about all Quackity is capable of doing.

Being friends with people gives them a hundred different ways to hurt you intentionally or not. When you’re friends with someone they know things about you that other people don’t, they know what makes you tick and what can hurt the most.

Quackity is definitely afraid of that. He is well aware that not everyone is out to hurt him all the time. But he is also aware that some people are and you never know which group people fit into.

He has trusted people with things he should not have trusted them with before and he has no plans to make the same mistake twice no matter how paranoid it makes him sound.

The fast heartbeat and crushing weight in his chest are just further proof of that, probably. It only comes out around Sapnap and Karl as of late and Quackity recognizes the symptoms of anxiety.

“Did the wall do something to you?” Sapnap asks, pulling Quackity from his thoughts.

It’s just the three of them at Karl’s house today. The crushing feeling in Quackity’s chest is doing its best to fill the void left by the other two.

“Yeah it killed my wife and ate my kids.” Quackity says making a joke more out of habit than humor. People like the funny kid, people do not like the fucked up anxious one.

“Damn that is fucked up. Why would your wall do that Karl?” Sapnap says but he is still looking at Quackity with a pinched sort of worry.

“I don’t know.” Karl laughs. “I’ll fight it and avenge you though Q.”

Quackity pretends to swoon. “Vengeance is like the third gayest emotion.” He jokes.

“You’re the third gayest person in this room.” Karl snorts, leaning down off the side of his bed to look down to the floor where Quackity and Sapnap are.

“Who is the first gayest then?” Sapnap asks. “You? Me?”

“Definitely me. I’m way cooler than you. You get second by default because Quackity is clearly last.” Karl grins.

“Wow, I’m hurt Karl. I’m hurt! Sapnap avenge me against Karl now.” Quackity demands halfheartedly.

“He would never.” Karl gasps.

The conversation trickles out and Quackity stares at the colorful posters on Karl’s wall. He has been spending more time at the other’s houses than his own. It’s gotten to the point that if he comes straight home after school his father looks at him strangely.

Quackity wonders if this is abnormally fast pacing for a friendship or if he just has no good point of reference.

“You’re breathing weird.” Sapnap says the same pinched look on his face.

“Dude fuck off.” Quackity groans not wanting to play ‘what’s wrong with Quackity!’ Today. “You sound like your loser dad.”

Sapnap frowns at him. “My dad isn’t a loser.” He argues.

“Your dad is my therapist. That’s like the definition of a loser.” Quackity snorts.

“Therapy is cool. All the cool bitches get therapy.” Karl says.

Quackity rolls his eyes not wanting to deal with whatever this is exactly.

“Topic change.” Quackity demands with a huff.

“Are you excited for dinner Friday?” Karl asks and Quackity is reminded why he loves him so much.

“I’m proud of George for running the night for some couple.” Sapnap jokes.

“I am too. Why should only couples going to prom be happy?” Quackity joins in.

“We’ll look like the world's most under dressed prom group.” Karl snorts.

“Who would be the two couples?” Sapnap asks.

“Obviously you and Karl and me and George.” Quackity grins. “The two hottest together”.

“So all of us but George. Like uh, polygons or whatever.” Sapnap jokes.

“Polyamory.” Karl corrects.

“Pollywobble.” Quackity deadpans.

“The arguably worst Pokémon!” Sapnap all put shouts. “No! We are not naming our relationship after that.”

“As opposed to naming our relationship like Steve or something.” Quackity laughs.

“You don’t get to pick a name, it’s called polyamory. It's just like a couple with more people, you bozos.” Karl corrects laughing.

“Don’t be a buzzkill we are naming our relationship right now.” Sapnap sushes him.

“I don’t want a relationship with you two if you are going to act this stupid.” Karl huffs.

“We’ll have one without you then.” Sapnap grins reaching over in telegraphed movements to grab Quackity’s hand.

Quackity isn’t sure when the others picked up how flighty he is when people move towards him too quickly but he can say he is too upset about it.

“Yeah Karlos you snooze you lose.” Quackity grins.

Karl sighs, dramatically lamenting the loss of his two future partners with over dramatic words and Quackity can’t help but laugh at him.

The weight in his chest gets worse as he watches Sapnap watch Karl with an intense light in his eyes. It worsens still as Karl moves his hands around smiling wide and with stars in his eyes.

Watching the two of them interact shouldn’t be making him anxious like this. Really what about this could ever exist. to scare him? What is wrong with Quackity?

Sapnap squeezes their linked hands and the weight pressed down harder. Maybe he is just worried about how much power the other two are gaining over his mood. It would make sense. It’s a valid fear.

An actual understandable fear that makes even the slightest amount of sense in the real world. Maybe Quackity is grasping at straws. Scratch that Quackity is definitely grasping at straws for something he just isn’t quite sure what yet.

~~~

Quackity denies Sapnap’s offer for a ride to group, while it is a bit embarrassing to be sixteen without his license and have his dad drive him everywhere it would be worse to have Sapnap drive him.

Sure Sapnap and Karl both know about group and in theory know about all of the connotations that come with it but still. Quackity likes keeping his two worlds separated.

So Quackity left Karl’s house and got a ride from his dad to group despite the fact that it took longer than just letting Sapnap drive him.

Apparently whatever Bad has in mind to torture them with today involved being outside because the others are sprawled out on the grass outside of the church looking varying levels of uncomfortable.

“Quackity. Finally.” Charlie groans from where he is lying on his back. He looks bored out of his mind.

“Oh Quackity you’re here, that’s good. everyone is here then.” Bad says from where he is sat on the ground finally noticing Quackity’s arrival.

Quackity takes a seat next to Charlie not dignifying Bad with a response. God knows he doesn’t need one.

“Today we are going to watch the clouds, maybe try and figure out what shapes they are. There have been a few studies about how the interpretations of cloud shapes can be telling of a person's mental state similar to ink blot tests. But that’s not why we are doing it. We are simply doing it to enjoy the nature around us and remind ourselves about how amazing the world around us is .” Bad explains.

“Anyways, my name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my day is how nice it is outside today, good weather always improves my mood. One bad thing about my week is that I’m a bit behind on some paperwork. I can’t think of a related question so we’ll do a basic one this week, a fun fact about me is that I used to do competitive knife throwing.” Bad says grinning.

Bad says he used to throw knives with a grin. Quackity may be a bit unstable but maybe someone should look into his therapist.

Before Quackity can linger on that particular thought for too long, Fundy does his introduction. “My name is Fundy. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that there was no school on Tuesday. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling more dysphoric than usual. A fun fact about me is that I’ve got thalassophobia.” Fundy says.

“I’m sorry about your dysphoria worsening, we’ll talk more about the cause one on one. thalassophobia is the fear of large bodies of water isn’t it?” Bad asks.

Fundy nods his head, not bothering to elaborate. There are a few tense seconds of silence before Sam speaks.

“I’m Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I don’t have any homework this week. One bad thing about my week is that it is AP testing this week.” Sam says before adding on. “A fun fact about me is that I can do a few card tricks.”

“Try not to worry too much about your AP testing. It’s very impressive that you can do card tricks.” Bad nods.

“My name is Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I’m going to prom with some friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been super tired lately. A fun fact about me is that I used to live in Ohio for a really long time.” Foolish says.

“I’m glad you are having some fun with your friends Foolish.” Bad smiles.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that me and my sister went shopping. One bad thing about my week is that I have a bunch of tests this week. A fun fact about me is that I can speak Armenian.” Charlie says.

“I’m glad you are getting along with your sister Charlie.” Bad says. “Quackity?”

“I’m Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I’m getting dinner with some friends on Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that my shoes got a hole in them. One fun fact about me is that I want to go into law.” Quackity says plainly.

“I’m glad you are doing things you enjoy with friends.” Bad smiles and Quackity wants to ask him if Bad really wants someone like Quackity around his son.

Before he can open that particular can of worms however Bad continues on. “Let’s lay down.” He says and the others comply. “What do you see?”

Quackity looks up ignoring how the grass itches. The sky is a nice shade of blue and there are a few shapeless clouds here and there but none of it really jumps out as a shape to Quackity.

A bird starts chirping loudly and someone sighs in what is probably boredom.

“That one looks like a bird.” Charlie says suddenly gesturing vaguely above them.

“That’s definitely more of a star shape. Five points and all.” Sam argues.

“Both of your eyes are fucked up.” Fundy snorts. “It’s a family.”

Quackity looks at what cloud he is pretty sure the others are and squints. “It looks like a house.” He says.

“Definitely a squirrel.” Foolish says.

“How is this supposed to be relaxing?” Fundy asks.

Bad doesn’t answer him and instead hums. “What else do you see?”

“That’s a flower.” Charlie says.

Quackity stares up at the sky not really looking at the clouds and instead looking up. He’d like to be able to fly up there, to be so far away from everything and everyone.

Foolish let’s out a squeaky laugh at something Fundy said and Quackity snaps back down to earth with the others. Maybe it isn’t so bad to be here either, he supposes.

Quackity just hopes he doesn’t give the others here the same power that he has accidentally given Sapnap and Karl.

Chapter Text

Fundy can feel the sound vibrations from the wall that the living room in the apartment next to theirs shared with Fundy’s bedroom.

The couple there are arguing again, they do it about once a week on a rotation of different subjects. One of them doesn’t feel loved, one of them is cheating, they hate each other, they love each other

They can argue for hours or minutes and in a fucked up way it is almost comforting. Fundy grew up listening to Sally argue with their father and Wilbur argue with anyone who would respond.

In another sense it is comforting for the simple fact that he hears it whenever he is at his mom’s apartment, it’s a reminder that she fought for him to be here. That for all her flaws she wants him here.

It’s nice, maybe a bit pathetic or even if you were to ask Wilbur, unwarranted. But knowing that for all they both are and will be his mother wants him here. It makes Fundy happy.

The deeper voice from the apartment next to theirs hisses something that sounds suspiciously like ‘cheating whore’ and in turn the higher voice shouts something unintelligible.

If he was anyone else, Fundy would get up and knock on the apartment door next to his. Maybe if he was anyone else he would ask if they were okay, ask a voice if they needed help. Maybe Fundy would snap at them to shut up.

But Fundy is Fundy so he stays at his desk half paying attention to the bedwars match he is playing.

The game is with three other random people all of which lack the coordination to make sure the team wins.

Fundy himself also lacks that coordination but he is rather good at protecting the bed so that’s the job he assigned himself not bothering to communicate in game with the others.

An angry shout rings out and Fundy forces himself to ignore it, focusing on his game.

He feels like he is six again listening to his mother and father fight. Attempting to drown out Sally’s loud shouts and his fathers cutting words in the buzz of the midday news.

Something crashes against the joint wall and Fundy flinches so badly his game character falls off the edge of the base.

“Fuck.” Fundy mumbles to himself as he respawns. He shouldn’t be reacting like that. It’s not like he ever got hit during the fights his parents had. He shouldn’t be so scared of someone else’s conflicts.

‘Bro????’ One of Fundy’s teammates types in chat.

And angry burning part of Fundy wants to type back a quick ‘fuck you’. But that part of him is quickly extinguished by the guilt that makes itself a gaping black home in his chest.

He’s lashing out on some random person who is probably some like, eight year old who just wants to play a video game after a long day of learning division or whatever.

Fundy doesn’t bother typing out any sort of reply and instead just closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe for a minute. Taking big deep breaths that make his binder feel tighter against his chest.

Then like he always does, Fundy moves on. Continuing to play the game and attempting to trick his brain into believing he likes the familiar sounds from the apartment next to his.

The person who lives in the apartment above him starts walking around and Fundy forces his brain to focus into the rhythmic sound of their footsteps.

A blue team player makes their way over to their base and Fundy focuses himself on clicking his mouse and keyboard quickly and violently in an attempt to kill the other person.

The other person gets a few combo hits on him and Fundy is once again staring at the death screen.

He respawns and the blue person is only half way through breaking Fundy’s bed defense so he kills them while their back is turned.

The player on Fundy’s team who had typed in chat earlier returns to the base and crouches up and down a few times in what Fundy chooses to take as appreciation.

If they don’t use words Fundy can imagine they are saying whatever he wants. Hell he is well practiced enough that he can do that even if they do use their words Fundy can do it.

Maybe that is why he is so damn bad at the whole therapy thing. His talent of twisting others peoples words working to twist Bad’s words and suggestions into something that Fundy finds more palatable.

That is also somewhat pathetic, being so unstable you can’t even handle what your therapist has to say despite the fact that they are quite literally paid to help you.

In game the yellow team rushes their base and Fundy dies a few times before they manage to break through his defenses and break his team's bed. Quickly after that Fundy dies followed by the rest of his team.

Without the distraction of his game, Fundy can hear the argument next door a bit clearer but he takes inerive to drown it out by leaving his room and heading into the living room.

The TV turns and Fundy spends the rest of his afternoon before group exiting as a demented mirror to his past self.

Six year old Fundy in a pink little girls dress is sniffling in front of the TV wishing that Wilbur wouldn’t provoke their father so much. Wishing that their mother would intervene and Fundy had a family like the ones on TV

Sixteen year old Fundy sits in front of the TV, the volume up loud enough to drown out even his own thoughts who wish the disembodied voices next door would stop their arguing.

Like a window to the past Fundy and his younger self are one in the same and still entirely different. He wishes he could open the window and pull that kid into his arms, he didn’t deserve it, Fundy didn’t deserve it.

~~~

“We are going to be making cards for people who are special to us today. To the people who had helped us while we struggled.” Bad says smiling at them.

“Just say you want us to make Mother’s Day cards and move on.” Quackity sighs.

“Bad knows we are old enough that we don’t need arts and crafts projects.” Fundy says. Foolish shoots Fundy a look then side eyes Quackity.

It seems the general consensus is that Bad does in fact not know how old they are.

“It can be for a mom, Mother’s Day is near. But it can also be for anyone who helped you when you were having a hard time. In fact, for today's fun question we can share someone who helped us in as little or as much detail as we want.” Bad decides.

“Now onto our introductions.” Bad says folding his hands on the folding table he had brought out earlier and laid craft supplies over. “My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that me and Skeppy got the garden planted this week. One bad thing about my week is that my arms are a bit sore. When Sapnap was younger just taking care of him and having him in my life greatly improved my mental health at the time.”

Fundy goes next as he always does. “My name is Fundy and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I played a video game earlier and enjoyed that. One bad thing about my week is that my neighbors are being very loud again. My mom helped me out a lot.” Fundy says vaguely.

“I’m glad you are doing things you enjoy.” Bad nods. “Sam?”

“I’m Sam. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that my classes have been super easy this week. One bad thing about my week is that I’m super tired today. I’d say my mom and Ponk probably helped me the most.” Sam says just as vaguely as Fundy.

“I’m sorry you’re tired Sam but it’s nice that your classes have been easy.” Bad says.

“I’m Foolish.” Foolish says going next from his seat next to Sam. “One good thing is that I had a good time at prom Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that I’m starting to stress about finals. I used to have an older foster brother in one of my homes that taught me shit and looked after me.” Foolish continues.

“Language. I’m glad you had a good time but you should not force so much of your worth into grades, even then you are very smart and you’ll do fine.” Bad reassures.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine.” Charlie starts next. “One good thing about my week is that I got an A on my math test. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot to do my homework yesterday. My friends helped me a lot when I was struggling.” Charlie says.

“Good job on your test!” Bad cheers smiling. “Quackity?” He prompts next.

“I’m Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I finished a book. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been working on my school work a lot and not doing as much fun stuff, also my dinner was ruined Saturday. My dad helped me a lot with shit.”

“Language.” Bad chides. “I’m sorry to hear about your dinner but it’s always nice to finish a book then after a minute Bad says“Go ahead and make your cards.” Bad gestures at the craft paper and colored pencils sitting out on the table.

Fundy grabs a piece of orange construction paper and starts doodling out a Mother’s Day card. It’s the least he can do for his mother who fought so hard for both of them. Besides it kind of like killing two birds with one stone, Fundy thanks his mom, and he makes her a Mother’s Day card.

Fundy spends the rest of group snorting at the others' familiar bickering and making his card as best as he can.

Later Bad has to drive Fundy home in his stupid minivan, his moms alarm to pick him up must not have gone off. Fundy can’t really blame her for wanting to sleep some more. She works a lot to take care of them both.

Though it is horrible awkward to get driven anywhere by Bad alone. Even if Bad is his therapist, Fundy can’t help but feel guilty for taking time out of his day.

~~~

The apartment lights are off when Fundy gets home which should bother him because it isn’t really that late. Certainly not late enough for Sally to have gone to bed but Fundy also knows about the extra shifts she has been picking up.

As quietly as he can, Fundy makes his way through the apartment pausing only temporarily to stare at his mothers sleeping form from where she is sitting in an armchair in front of the TV. An old episode of Bones is playing and Fundy pauses for a minute to watch it before moving on into his room.

Fundy hides the card under his bed and moves past his mothers unmade bed on the other side of the room. More often than not she hadn’t been sleeping there but Fundy ignores it with practiced ease.

The bathroom lights flicker a bit when Fundy turns them on but it doesn’t bother him as he reaches to grab his toothbrush then his toothpaste before something catches his eye.

A needle, a used needle. The damned thing is half hidden in their wastebasket but Fundy knows what it is.

Fundy is once again a window to the past. He is once agian six and getting ready for school ignoring the used needle.

Except this time Fundy is sixteen and his mother is supposed to be clean. She is supposed to be sober. She promised.

Fundy turns the light back off and leaves without brushing his teeth. Fundy crawls into his bed and ignores the tears that start to fall. There is a pit forming in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Chapter Text

Sam has some intense feelings in the American court system for lack of a better word.

The important stuff is dragged out and the stuff that could be put off never is.

Case and point from the time his father serves his mother custody papers to the court date is much shorter than Sam would prefer it to be thank you very much.

Instead two Saturdays ago Sam had to get dressed up and go to court for a possibility he didn’t even want in the first place.

The whole thing was a long uncomfortable and drawn out process that Sam hated.

He had felt confident that nothing would change going into court, then the stupidly fancy family court lawyer his father hired had called Sam to the stands.

At first he was fine with that, simply telling the truth, that his father barely counted as that and he would very much so prefer to stay with the parent that actually raised him.

Then one simple question had pulled the proverbial rug out from under him, ‘Is it true you attempted to end your own life in your mothers custody?’ That one simple question is all it took.

Suddenly Sam’s opinion held very little weight, instead he was just some confused kid who tried to kill himself.

When you see people say that they regretted their attempt or that it bit them in the ass you ever actually think you will be one of them. But for what is not the first time, Sam regretted his attempt.

Because his attempt is all it took to take almost all of the weight out of his opinion, all of the weight except for splitting the custody 50/50 every Sunday he is supposed to switch houses.

Sam gets no control over his own life all because he tried to take it, he is sure some god out there is laughing at him. He already feels guilty enough without being punished for it.

Sam had left the courthouse that Saturday and the first thing he did was call Ponk. The first thing he did was call Ponk and complain about the consequences of his own action to the one person who Sam is confident understands him in his entirety.

Then Sam did what he did best, compartmentalized and moved on. He can’t change it so he has to learn to accept it, isn’t worth kicking up a fuss over so Sam simply won’t.

That Sunday after taking his mom out for a nice lunch just the two of them for Mother’s Day, Sam packs a duffel bag full of shit he feels he could part with and dives himself over to his fathers new apartment.

There must be some cosmic sense of irony because it’s the very same apartment building Sam grew up in, his fathers new place is two stories above and three to the right of his old apartment and something about that fact feels somewhat funny.

It’s a simi-hostile environment made that way at least in half because of Sam himself.

Some rational part of him knows it isn’t fair, he knows he will not want a kid in two years. But he also knows he wouldn’t leave and if he did he wouldn’t keep showing back up in the kids life to fuck shit up.

Rationally Sam knows his anger at his father is both unhelpful and probably tangible judging by how little his father has interacted with him.

It’s almost like the two of them know nothing about one another or how to act around each other, oh wait, they don’t.

As if to prove the point Sam’s father distastefully asks. “Do you really need to go to that group thing?”

Briefly Sam entertains the idea that his father really is trying, it’s quickly squashed however by annoyance “It’s court mandated.”

“Do you go at your mothers house?” His father asks in a vague way.

“Yes. I’m also going to dinner afterwards so don’t wait.” Sam says grabbing a hoodie out of the duffle he has yet to unpack and probably never will.

“You could have asked first.” There is a long sigh followed by, “curfew is at 10:30.”

“I haven’t had a curfew since I was fourteen.” Sam snorts.

“Well, I’m not going to be as lax as your mother.”

Sam takes a breath. “Cool.” He deadpans. “See you at 10:30, I’ve got to pick Foolish up.”

Behind him Sam can hear his father ask who Foolish is.

~~~

“You look… tense.” Foolish says closing the door of Sam’s truck behind him.

Foolish is at best vaguely aware of what is happening. Sam does most of his venting in person with more than a bit of prompting from Ponk.

Foolish doesn’t spend lunch with Ponk and Sam, instead he hovers at the edge of the group of football players they share their lunch period with. Secretly Sam thinks it’s a bit sad but he makes no attempt to judge Foolish.

“Thanks.” Sam deadpans.

Foolish rolls his eyes. “Dish.”

A mean cruel part of Sam wants to ask how Foolish’s home life is but he quickly stamps that down. He knows why Foolish is acting the way he is and Sam has no right to be cruel.

“It’s fine.” Sam settles on lamely. “I’ve got like food and shit. He’s not violent. We just… don’t get along I guess.” Sam says. “It’s nothing deep.”

“It’s important though.” Foolish says matter of factly.

“Not really that important.” Sam dismisses.

“It affects you, so it’s important.” Foolish says simply. Then just as simply, “you’re important.”

It’s a stab to the chest and Sam almost reflexively tightens his hands on the wheel. Quiet echoes around them and Sam takes a breath. “Don’t.” He says though it’s a bit weaker than intended.

“Alright.” Foolish agrees. “It’s alright.”

Then as if he didn’t just say the words Sam most didn’t want to hear, “I’m totally going to bomb my math final.”

Sam ignores the whiplash the topic change causes and instead focuses on Foolish’s words. “You’ll be fine.” He reassures. “You’re a pretty smart guy

~~~

America isn’t built to be a walkable city structure. Call Sam a nerd all you want but he is interested in that sort of thing so he is knowledgeable on it.

Public transportation is about as close as most major cities get to what you could call ‘green’

So when Bad happily announces happily that they will be going on a walk around to enjoy the nice summer breeze, Sam is pretty genuinely baffled by the fact that the block near the church has an actual sidewalk.

To be fair it’s a cracked uneven sidewalk with weeds growing all around but still the thought is there.

“I’m sure by now you are getting tired of hearing how being outside can benefit your mental health but it is still very true. The breeze is rejuvenating if I do say so myself. Besides, it’s almost summer so I’m sure you can feel the excitement in the air.” Bad says leading them on their walk.

“But to add something new, I think it’s important to go outside and remember your place in the world. Remember that you are part of everything around you and everything around you has an effect big or small. But that’s enough of that, my name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that we are finishing the basement finally. One bad thing about my week is that Sapnap has been stressed about finals and I can’t help him much. My favorite season is spring.” Bad says.

Fundy huffs a breath out, he looks more worn out than Sam last saw him but Sam also knows that it isn’t really his business. “I’m Fundy. I’m fine.” Fundy says shortly. “One good thing about my week is that it’s almost over. One bad thing about my week is that…” There is a long pause and Fundy seems to make a decision. “It’s almost time for finals. My favorite season is winter.”

Bad seems to consider Fundy’s words. “We’ll talk more one on one then.” He says seemingly aware of Fundy’s blatant lies. “Sam?”

“I’m Sam. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that it was a very light work week. One bad thing about my week is that I was at my father’s apartment.” Sam says quickly then as if to distract from his honesty, “my favorite season is probably fall.”

“Your father’s?” Bad asks.

“Yup.” Sam says debating temporarily just throwing Fundy under the bus for lying about whatever it is that 's bothering him. Sam isn’t that cruel though so he just throws his elbow at Foolish to make him talk.

“I’m Foolish.” Foolish says quickly catching the hint. “I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I’m excited for school to be over for the year. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve still got Football practices and weightlifting. My favorite season is summer.”

“I’m glad you have something to look forward to.” Bad says with a nod. “Don’t force yourself to continue Football if you are no longer getting enjoyment out of it though. Your turn Charlie.”

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got a new video game. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been giving myself stress headaches. My favorite season is also spring.” Charlie says.

“I’m glad you feel fine but maybe try some of those stress management tips we talked about such as deep breathing and attempting to take your mind off the stressor with something positive.” Bad says.

“I’m Quackity and I’m good I guess. One good thing about my week is that I’m studying with a friend on Friday. One bad thing about my week is that I’m very tense. My favorite season is winter I guess.” Quackity shrugs.

“I’m glad you are spending time with your friends.” Bad nods thoughtfully before letting the group of them continue to walk in silence.

After a minute or two Charlie cracks. “So….” He starts before trailing off. When he catches Sam’s eye seemingly debating using Sam’s introduction as a conversation topic, Sam shoots him a glare.

“So?” Fundy mimics prompting.

“You look tired.” Quackity says because he apparently doesn’t have an ounce of tact.

“It has been a long week.” Fundy sighs. Then a bit quieter just to the others, “Bad is a mandated reporter.”

“That he is.” Sam agrees.

“Are you in danger?” Charlie asks a bit more empathetically.

“No. I’m fine just working some stuff out.” Fundy huffs.

And if the others know anything they know what it is like to not want to talk about something so they move on.

“Personally I think the Avatar movies should change their name. Everyone knows the Avatar is Aang

~~~

“Kill him.” Sam offers in response to Ponk’s complaints over how useless a partner on a class project has been.

“I can’t.” Ponk whines. “His participation is part of the grade.”

“Kill him after.” Foolish suggests.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two.” Ponk laughs, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam counters. “I mean if this-“ he gestures at himself and Foolish. “Is your type?” Sam jokes.

Foolish makes a noise that might be a snort or a choke. But Ponk doesn’t miss a beat.

“Maybe I’ve just got really bad taste in men.” They shrug.

“Stop flirting in front of the waitress.” Foolish finally chokes out as the waitress approaches.

“Buzzkill.” Sam mumbles before smiling politely at the waitress.

They order their food with practiced ease and return to their semblance of privacy that they had before. It isn’t really private but it’s enough for them to fuck around unbothered and make their stupid jokes without anyone else to hear.

It is also just so private enough that Sam can make a few off hand comments about his recent frustrations without feeling too guilty.

Sam can’t honestly think of any two other people he would like to have some private-not-private conversations with.

Chapter Text

Charlie and time have what is at best a complex and ever changing relationship.

When old ladies who claim to have known Charlie since birth say how tall he has gotten and ask how old he is, Charlie always has to pause and think it over.

Realistically it should be a straight to the point answer. He is sixteen and he has been for a few good months now. But still whenever asked Charlie has to fight against his fast moving tongue to stop fourteen from slipping out.

Fourteen wasn’t even a particularly good year for Charlie. Apparently his brain has just yet to get the memo that he is two whole years older than that.

But either way time is like an ever changing river around Charlie. Sometimes it flows quickly. Whole days slipping by in what feels like minutes leaving Charlie feeling dazed and disoriented. More often than not Charlie can only remember bits and pieces of those days, the most noteworthy moments.

Other days though time flows like the lazy river at their towns decrepit water park. Slowly, minutes can go on for what should be hours and nothing of note can occur for days. It’s like watching a video at 0.25x speed and trying to keep your brain paying attention.

Mostly, despite the ever changing flow that leaves Charlie feeling motion sick trying to keep up , Charlie just feels tired.

He falls asleep in classes or, in the worst case, according to his mother at the synagogue. It’s the worst there because what does Charlie’s mother have if not the perfect reputation to shove in others faces? The answer, an emotionally unavailable husband, a closeted daughter who will probably leave the house at eighteen, and the disappointment of a son that is Charlie.

Maybe that’s why Charlie finds it so funny, when after his mother harshly wakes him and they mill about the synagogue talking, to find Sam.

The synagogue is a rather large thing full of the Jewish population of their entire town and the two neighboring ones, so it wasn’t surprising that Charlie didn’t know Sam also attended until they ran into each other a while ago. It also wasn’t surprising that they could avoid each other.

But right now the part of Charlie that lives to piss off his mother by ruining her reputation wants to call out to Sam’s retreating form, it would successfully interrupt his mothers gossiping to another mom and piss her off. A win win honestly.

Time flows quickly between Charlie calling Sam’s name and Sam turning around. They lock eyes and Sam raises an eyebrow. Charlie makes a come here gesture ignoring his mothers complaint at being interrupted.

The woman Sam was with says something to him before greeting a response and wandering off.

“Hey man.” Sam greets standing next to Charlie and politely smiling at Charlie’s mom and the other mom she was talking to.

“Your hair is green.” Charlie’s mother says the way someone slightly more sane might say ‘you have the bubonic plague.’

Sam just nods and keeps the tight lipped polite smile on his face. “Yes ma’am. Dyed it myself.”

“Your mother let you?”

Sam shrugs. “It’s my body.”

“Anyways Sam,” Charlie says interrupting his mother against much to her chagrin and his sister’s amusement. “I didn’t think I would see you until Thursday.” Charlie grins.

“Me either.” Sam agreed, looking somewhat confused. “You need something though? Not that I don’t enjoy talking with you man but I’ve got work in an hour.”

“Nah, I just wanted to say hello.” And maybe use him to piss off Charlie's mom, but what teenager doesn’t live to spite their parents in some way.

“Right.” Sam says again before snorting. He looks somewhat amused. “See you Thursday then.”

“See you Thursday.” Charlie agrees before turning back to his mother and smiling.

“Sorry for the interruption.” He lies. “I just saw a friend of mine.”

The woman his mother is talking to laughs. “My son is the same way.” She says before turning back to gossip with Charlie’s mom.

Judging by the grimace on his moms face Charlie is supposed to be a bit better than this lady's son. Oh well. Sucks to suck Charlie supposes.

“You shouldby pick fights like that.” Charlie’s sister whispers to him doing her best not to catch their mothers attention or ire.

“Probably not.” Charlie agrees because saying that having something like that to focus on made time feel more real would not be something his sister understood.

The rest of the day flows freely but Charlie doesn’t feel too bad about it. He probably doesn’t miss much in his half present state anyways.

If time wanted him to focus on it then maybe it would function linearly instead of how it does normally.

Charlie wonders if this is something he should bring up in group, his strange relationship with time. It is probably a symptom of something Bad could tell him about but the idea of honesty is still horrifying.

Technically Charlie knows the point of group is to surround yourself with people going through the same thing as you in hope that they understand. And maybe if the members of group were a bit older, or more mature, or more trusting, it would work. Maybe they could build a community.

But they are a bunch of teenagers who have been dealt a shitty hand and dealt with it in a shitty hand and the idea of talking about their feelings is scary and large. Like a boulder none of them have the guts to start pushing up a hill. It will only fall back down on them after all, so really, what’s the point in that?

Why do something so easily undone or regretted when you can save yourself the anxiety and pain for another day. Or preferably never.

Really Charlie understood the purpose of group for teenagers in their formative years like himself. But he also thought the whole idea was stupid and clearly made by an adult who doesn’t remember what it’s like to be a kid.

~~~

The Church basement definitely has mold growing in between the concrete bricks. Charlie doesn’t mean it in some deep metaphorical way, more in the way that the whole place reeks of mold.

Maybe it’s black mold and they will all die. That would be a messed up twist of fate, failing the first time causing them to go to group therapy only to die of black mold inhalation.

The basement door slams open and Fundy quickly walks down the steps to join the rest of them looking more tired than last week. Honestly it’s impressive to have eyebags that deep, concerning too, but impressive.

“There you are Fundy.” Bad says smiling and Charlie takes a not so subtle look at the clock. Fundy is late, ten minutes late in fact.

“Here I am.” Fundy agrees with a huff.

“We can get started then. Today we are making new dreams. Which I have interpreted as creating goals to look forward to with our lives. I know often when you plan on ending your life you don’t plan for your future. And when we continue to live without a plan it can lead to a feeling of being lost or hopeless.” Bad says matter of factly.

“So we are making life goals, big or small, to combat the lack of plan we may have. We all need something to look forward to after all. Anyways, my name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that Skeppy got some lovely flowers for the house, he is a great roommate. One bad thing about my week is that it rained for two days last week. And for today’s question, when I was a kid my dream was to be an astronaut.” Bad says with a smile.

Fundy makes a face but does his introduction anyways. “My name is Fundy. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I only have one exam tomorrow. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been getting nightmares. When I was a kid I wanted to be a knight.”

“I’m sorry about the nightmares, has something been causing them?” Bad asks.

There is a long pause before Fundy awkwardly answers “…No.”

Bad’s eye twitches but before he can finally snap with how hard they make his job, Sam starts his introduction.

“I'm Sam and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that school is almost over. One bad thing about my week is that I had stress headaches all week because of finals. When I was a kid I probably wanted to be like a cop or something, I mean not any more but.” Sam cuts himself off with a snort.

“I'm glad you’ve been feeling good. Maybe you should remember those stress management tips though, like going for a walk, deep breathing, or meditating. Foolish how are you?” Bad asks.

“I’m Foolish, I feel good I guess. One good thing about my week is that I don’t have any exams tomorrow so school is done for me. One bad thing about my week is that I totally botched my English final. When I was a kid I wanted to be an architect, I still do.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your exam but at least it’s over, and it is just one exam, it won’t ruin the rest of your life.” Bad reassures.

Knowing his cue, Charlie goes next. “I’m Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that school is over. One bad thing about my week is that I fought with my dad about my grades. When I was a kid I wanted to be a gymnast.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been fighting with your father.” Bad says. “Quackity?”

“I’m Quackity. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I’m going bowling with some friends to celebrate the end of finals. One bad thing about my week is that I feel super tired. I wanted to be a lawyer as a kid.” Quackity says.

Bad nods at Quackity’s words, his face pleasantly neutral in the way that Charlie thinks you learn how to do when becoming a therapist.

“Alright. Now let's have ten quiet minutes to think of a goal for the future, then before we leave we’ll share our goals.” Bad says.

After three Charlie comes up with a goal good enough that Bad will get off his back, but also not too honest in case the others aren’t, it’s also not too fake in case the others are honest.

Honestly if Charlie wasn’t over thinking so much he could have had the goal in like a minute. But still he has to spend seven minutes in awkward silence doing his best to avoid the others' gazes.

After seven minutes in hell Bad finally talks again. “Okay now let’s share our goals to work towards. I’ll go first. My new goal is to learn how to make macarons. It’s a small goal but it’s something for me to work towards.”

Again Fundy goes next. “I want to spend a normal day with Wilbur without fighting.” Fundy says with shocking honesty.

Sam pauses before continuing after Fundy. “I want to stop freaking people out when I go for a drive.” Sam says bluntly before kicking Foolish to make him go.

It seems the others have chosen to have one of their rare moments of honesty.

“I want to be able to call Puffy’s house my home and mean it I guess.” Foolish shrugs as if his words aren’t a knife to the chest.

Charlie feels lost searching for a goal as honest for the others, but for once Quackity saves him.

“I want to stop letting bad experiences ruin my good ones.” He says angrily as if challenging the world.

Finally Charlie finds the words he wants to say. “I want my life to be mine.”

Chapter Text

Foolish’s social worker, Mrs. Mia Smith, is a woman who has probably never felt joy in her entire life. Or maybe the years of tedious government work in a job where you know half the kids won’t have a good life, sucked all the joy out of her.

Either way as she looks through Puffy’s house for yet another check in of Foolish’s living situation, she looks bored. Like instead of attempting to figure out if Puffy is some criminal, she is attempting to figure out her dinner for tomorrow.

Foolish is sitting at the kitchen table pointedly attempting to act normal. He’s probably failing at it with how quickly his leg is bouncing and the intense way he’s watching her go about her check.

Though to be fair Puffy is barely faring any better. It’s just the two of them in the house at the moment. The other two are visiting friends or whatever it is normal kids do on Thursdays in the summer.

There is the sound of distant footsteps and a door opening and Foolish attempts to rationalize. There isn’t anything wrong with the house, it’s clean, there are no locks on the food or the doors, and frankly Foolish has been forced to stay in much visibly worse places.

The distant sounds of footsteps and mumbling comes a bit closer and Puffy perks up. That is until she sees the face Foolish’s social worker is making, then Puffy visibly deflates.

Honestly Foolish is 75% sure that is just what her resting face looks like. She’s not a very happy woman at all.

“Have you seen everything you need to?” Puffy asks, looking more nervous than Foolish has seen her in a while.

It’s a nice thought, that Puffy is nervous about the possibility of Foolish leaving, that she wants him to stay.

“Are you wanting to get rid of me?” Foolish’s social worker asks, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Not at all.” Puffy says a bit too quickly. “Just wanted to know if I can be of any help.

Personally Foolish would like to get rid of Mrs. Smith. Really though in his defense you can only deal with so much before you start resenting your social worker a bit. Especially when she makes no attempts at kindness.

“We need to talk.” Mrs. Smith says while nodding her head to Foolish.

“Of course.” Puffy agrees, nodding.

“Privately.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” Puffy says standing up and brushing imaginary dust from her jeans. “I’ll just be…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely.

Mrs. Smith doesn’t say anything but she takes Puffy’s chair and sits down to hold a silent stare down with Foolish.

“How are you?” Mrs. Smith asks in a stilted tone.

“Fine. It’s good here, I'm fine.” Foolish says his tone is just as devoid of warmth.

“Do you plan on… attempting again?”

Foolish clenches his hand into a fist under the table heard enough to make his nails bite into his palm. He is sick and tired of that question.

“No.” He forces out of his grit teeth. “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad you are in better spirits then.” Mrs. Smith says. “The house seems up to code then, any concerns to voice?”

“Will you listen to what I say?” Foolish asks sarcastically.

“If it’s valid.”

Foolish snorts. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

Mrs. Smith’s lips twitch a bit in what Foolish is sure is the closet she can get to smiling. “I’m glad you’ve got nothing to say for once.”

Foolish doesn't roll his eyes purely on the principle that adults should be respected. He definitely wants to but he doesn’t and honestly that’s pretty big of him.

“Alright, she’s not beating me and I’m not going to kill myself. Can you leave now?” Foolish asks.

“Yes I believe I’ve got all the information I need.” Mrs. Smith says her tone is still perfectly professional.

“Great, I'm glad.” Foolish says watching as Mrs. Smith stands and leaves to inform Puffy of her departure.

After the two women talk for a bit and the old bat finally leaves, Puffy walks back into the kitchen to see Foolish.

“How did it go?” She asks anxiously.

“Fine. It’s not like you’ve got anything to hide. She just wanted to check that I wasn’t planning to, you know…” Foolish says with a shrug.

At his words Puffy’s face does that thing it always does at any mention of Foolish’s past attempt, like it can’t decide between pity and concern.

Foolish hates the expression and even more he hates that he did this entirely to himself. “It’s fine though. Nothing to worry about in terms of CPS.”

“I worry about you all the time.” Puffy says honestly before squeezing Foolish’s shoulder and walking over to the fridge. “I probably won’t be home when you get back tonight.” She says.

“Oh why?” Foolish asks curious.

“I’m just going out.” Puffy dismisses vaguely.

Foolish forces his brain to stop while it’s ahead and not think of all the reasons for Puffy’s vagueness. If he lets himself catastrophize then he will never stop.

If he doesn’t stop now he never will and Foolish will fight tooth and nail to not fall down the well of worry that got him going to group in the first place.

“Have fun.” Foolish says trying to sound normal. Given the fact that Puffy doesn’t say anything he must succeed.

Have fun? Really? Foolish would scold himself for his word choice if it hadn’t gotten himself out of the conversation.

The real question is though, what exactly is Puffy hiding? Why wouldn’t she tell him? Unlike most adults Puffy had never shown a dislike of questions or even just having to tell Foolish things. So it didn’t make sense.

Though Puffy was an adult so Foolish supposed that she didn’t have to make sense. Her kindness was an exception not a rule.

~~~

Sam, honest to god, laughs when they walk down the steps to the church basement where group is held. Genuine laughter, not the fake shit. Foolish would almost bask in it if not for the fact that he may be joining Sam soon.

Bad has the folding table set up with all sorts of craft supplies that seem fit for a large range of age groups. It’s laughable, honestly.

Bad notices them with all the noise Sam is making and smiles. “There you two are. We were waiting to start. We’re making picture frames today!” He says happily like this is any sort of pleasant. Say what you want about Bad but the man is an optimist.

Sam and Foolish take their seats so Bad can actually get started with the whole reasons they are there in the first place.

“Today we are completing a diy project, which is a great way to feel accomplished and something you can do to take your mind off things. Finishing something, even something small is something to celebrate especially when you do it yourself. To add to that we are making picture frames!” Bad says with a smile.

“Picture frames are a great way to preserve your memories and keep what’s important to you in your life in a physical way. Not that things of mental importance are less valuable. But still it’s nice to have a way to physically display your treasured memories. Now, my name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I spent the whole day with Sapnap yesterday which was nice. One bad thing about my week is with how hot it is some of my tomato plants are wilting. For today's question, what is your favorite drink? Mine is sweet tea.” Bad says.

Fundy continues next. “My name is Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I slept in all week. One bad thing about my week is how hot it’s been. My favorite drink is Dr. Pepper.”

“I’m glad you’ve been sleeping better then.” Bad smiles. Sam?”

“My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I already finished my AP literature summer homework. One bad thing about my week is that I caught a cold. My favorite drink is probably Diet Coca Cola.” Sam shrugs.

“Congrats on getting your work done early Sam, way to take initiative. I hope you feel better soon though.” Bad says.

Foolish goes next. “I’m Foolish. One good thing about my week is that I got to relax this week. One bad thing about my week is that my social worker came for a house check today. My favorite drink is Fanta.”

“I’m glad you relaxed this week and I’m also glad your social worker is doing her job even if it was a negative for you.” Bad says.

Charlie doesn’t bother waiting for Bad to prompt him before starting. “I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’m super tired. My favorite drink is seven up”

“I’m sorry to hear you’re tired but I’m glad you are socializing with others.” Bad says. “Quackity?”

“My name is Quackity. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I got a new jacket. One bad thing about my week is that it’s almost short-sleeved weather. My favorite drink is normal Coca Cola.” Quackity says.

“It's nice you got a new jacket and thank you for sharing honestly, everyone.” Bad says. “Go ahead and make your picture frames.”

Each of them have a simple wooden picture frame and at the center of the table there are a handful of paint bottles in various colors and some of those foam sticker shapes and other various craft activities.

Foolish doesn’t bother waiting around and instead grabs the yellow paint bottle and starts decorating.

The others do the same and soon enough there are five picture frames decorated in various levels of cohesion.

A yellow frame with green craft gems, a blue frame with splashes of pink, purple, and red, a green frame with foam green stickers, another green frame with flowers painted on it, and an orange frame with foam animals running along the bottom.

The frames are honestly pretty ugly, but the frames are also very them and that’s what Foolish thinks really counts anyways.

~~~

“You should put our prom photo in there.” Ponk tells Foolish matter of factly. She’s leaning half over the table to take in Foolish’s yellow picture frame with small green craft gems on it.

“I hate that photo.” Foolish says honestly. He looks so stupid in the photo, gawking at Ponk openly.

“I think it’s cute.” Ponk says.

Almost in unison they both turn to look at Sam.

Sam for his part only looks somewhat uncomfortable being put on the spot. “Me and Foolish aren’t even looking at the camera.” He says with a shrug.

Foolish winces at being called out so bluntly. Of course it’s obvious how head over heels he is, it’s probably pathetic.

“That's why I like it. It’s very sweet. It’s very us.” Ponk grins.

Sam shrugs again. “Not like Foolish has any better photos.”

“I could have other friends, you know.” Foolish says attempting to salvage his honor.

“Right.” Sam agrees all too easily, making Ponk laugh.

“Fuck you both.” Foolish says with no heat behind his words.

“Take me to dinner first, Christ.” Ponk laughs.

“Would this not count?” Sam asks taking a French fry off of Ponk’s plate to prove his point.

“Count as what?” Foolish asks.

“Like, the taking someone to dinner, thing. If you think about it, we go out to dinner weekly.” Sam explains.

“The joke is like a dinner date though.” Foolish says stressing the word date.

“Who’s to say we don’t have weekly dinner dates.” Ponk shrugs.

Foolish has never been glad for his mastery of the poker face before, but he certainly is now, otherwise he would have most definitely have gotten his crush found out.

“This would be a crappy place for a date.” Sam snorts.

“We could go somewhere nicer.” Foolish says latching onto Sam’s topic change.

“He’s dodging the date question.” Ponk snorts.

“Probably due to the homophobia he has.” Sam deadpans.

“I’m literally bisexual.” Foolish protests.

“Didn’t answer if you were homophobic or not.” Sam points out.

“You are both the worst.” Foolish sighs.

“You love us.” Ponk grins.

“Whatever.”

“He definitely does.” Sam grins.

If only they knew how correct they were, Foolish supposes. He’s never stayed in one place long enough to do this sort of thing and he feels way out of depth.

It’s probably not a bad thing to feel this out of depth though.

Chapter Text

Quackity snorts, it's an unattractive noise but it immediately sends Karl further into his giggling fit. Sapnap, the one who made the initial joke, laughs as well.

“Boo!” Karl jests. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“It was hilarious actually.” Sapnap cuts in confidently.

“It wasn’t. It was just so bad it was funny.” Quackity says, rolling his eyes despite the fact that the other two can’t see him. The three of them were on call talking to each other, not about anything important more to have something to do.

Chancing a glance at the alarm clock on his desk Quackity’s forces a sigh. “I’ve got to go.” He announces knowing he’ll have to go meet his dad downstairs soon to get a ride to group.

“No.” Karl protest with a groan. “Don’t leave me with him.”

“Sorry.” Quackity says solemnly ignoring Sapnap’s protest.

“Wait, you should come over after.” Sapnap says as if he just remembered, “Karl is.”

“I really don’t want to have to see your dad.” Quackity says wrinkling his nose.

“C’mon you’ll barely see him.” Sapnap begs.

“Yeah come on Q.” Karl joins in.

“Whatever.” Quackity says and while it isn’t an agreement really the other two take it as one.

“Alright I’ll text you the address.” Sapnap cheers. “Bye Quackity.”

Quackity doesn’t bother to properly say goodbye and instead just hangs up with a sigh to go join his dad in the car.

On the ride to group Quackity informs his father of his plans and his dad just grins like it’s some amazing thing that Quackity is willingly hanging out with his friends.

Maybe it is.

“Looks like you’ll be outside today.” Quackity’s dad points out as they pull into the church parking lot. True to his words the others are gathered outside seemingly waiting on Quackity.

Quackity lets out an over dramatic groan causing his father to roll his eyes. “Bye.” Quackity calls out getting out of the car.

“Have fun, love you.” His dad calls out before leaving.

“There you are Quackity!” Bad grins.

Quackity resists the urge to pull a face at the man’s positivity. No one is this happy all the time. Bad probably has some super fucked up secret. He probably eats kids to retain his youth or something.

“Let’s get started then since we are all here.” Bad continues on oblivious of Quackity’s inner thoughts. “Today we are going to blow dandelions. Which may seem a bit juvenile.”

It does, Quackity doesn't say it out loud but he does lock eyes with Charlie and thinks about how stupid this is .

“But, I think it’s important to do things that remind you of happier times even if it’s a bit silly. So I was thinking we could all do our introductions then make a wish for our thing today. After all, supposedly dandelion seeds can carry your wishes.” Bad laughs as if he knows how stupid that sounds. “And even if it’s not true I think it’s important for us to visualize what we want in life big or small and to celebrate the silly things such as dandelion wishes. So go pick one.”

The grass lot around the church is horribly unkept and there are weeds everywhere making it pretty easy to just crouch down and grab a dandelion which they all do with varying levels of hesitance.

“Alright!” Bad says once they finish his task. “My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that I made a lovely pie. One bad thing about my week is that the heat is making it a bit miserable outside. As for my wish, I wish for all of you to have a very nice day soon.” Bad says with a smile before blowing the seed off the weed in his hand.

Quackity is almost positive, that isn’t really what he wishes for, this is mainly based on the fact that Bad is paid to deal with them.

“I’m Fundy.” Fundy starts next looking somewhat sick. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been playing some video games. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a headache. I wish…” Fundy trails off shrugging. “I wish for shit to figure itself out.” He says finally, blowing on his own weed.

“Language Fundy. I do hope your headache gets better though.” Bad says.

“I’m Sam and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I got a really good tip at work on Monday. One bad thing about my week is that the power went out in my dads apartment. I wish for my college applications to go well.” Sam says scattering his own dandelion seeds.

“I’m sorry about the power. It’s a bit early to worry about your application yet though Sam. Try to enjoy your summer a bit.” Bad says.

“I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that nothing too bad has happened. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t done much. I wish for good things I guess.” Foolish says vaguely.

“I’m glad your week has been pretty good. Sometimes it's okay not to do much with your work either, rest is always important.” Bad says before nodding at Charlie to start.

“My name is Charlie and I’m fine. One good thing about my week is that I had breakfast today. One bad thing about my week is that since it’s summer I’m around my mom more and fighting with her. I wish for better sleep.” Charlie says, taking a large breath before blowing it out, scattering the white fluff everywhere.

“I’m sorry you’ve been fighting with your mother, if you think how close you are is the problem, try to get out of the house a bit or create your own space, even something as small as taking a walk may help.” Bad says.

Quackity doesn't bother waiting for a cue wanting to get this done and over with so he can’t text his dad to pick him up. “I’m Quackity and I’m alright. One good thing about my week is that my mom made steak for dinner last night. One bad thing about my week is that it’s super hot out. I wish for…” Quackity pauses to think. There are several honest answers that won’t be said. So what should he say?

“To not be so alone.” Quackity shrugs.

“That’s what group is for.” Bad cuts in as if eager to get them to do the whole group therapy thing correctly. “To help you build a community of others who understand what you are going through so you can help each other and not be so alone in your experiences. That seems like a good stopping point for this week, you are all free to go.”

Quackity takes his dismissal happily.

~~~

Bad house is as suburban and cookie cutter as expected. Really Quackity didn’t know why he would think anything else.

Bad house is clean with a well trimmed yard and freshly mulched flower beds. With two cars in the driveway and one in the open garage. The rest of the garage in true suburban fashion seems to be housing a handful of bikes and other outside equipment.

“This is nice.” Quackity’s father says from where they are parked in Sapnap’s drive.

“I think I’ve changed my mind.” Quackity says eyeing the front door as if it will suddenly open revealing Sapnap or worse Bad.

“You need to hang out with your friends more.” His father argues.

More out of reflex than anything else Quackity wants to snap back that they aren’t his friends, that he doesn’t do friends. But even he is self aware enough to know that they are his friends.

Instead Quackity lets out a wordless groan of complaint. “My therapist lives here.” He says attempting to change his tactic. “That’s like a violation of some oath I’m sure.”

“I won’t report him.” Quackity’s dad shrugs.

“You should.”

“You should go inside, I’ll pick you up later.”

Quackity comes up blank when attempting to think of more reasons to delay that his father can’t refute. “Fine.” He settles on leaving the passenger's seat and closing the door behind him.

Quackity stands in the drive watching his dads car leave taking with it his last chance at escape. Pulling out his phone he shoots a simple ‘I’m here text’ to Sapnap, which is technically once again just him stalling for time.

Because he doesn’t want to go in and frankly no one can blame him for that. It’s bad enough he has to see Bad on Thursday, that he has to pretend to regret his choices, or to want to get better, or that group could in any capacity make him better. And it’s also bad enough to be friends with his therapist's son, Quackity is aware how strange and embarrassing that is, but the thing is he was dragged kicking and screaming into his friendship with Sapnap. So to add to all of that, willingly going into Bad’s home just feels wrong.

It feels like seeing a teacher outside of school, like at the grocery store or something, technically you know they don’t just exist at school but also seeing them is uncomfortably odd.

The front door opens and Quackity kind of wants the ground to split open and swallow him whole as he makes eye contact with what must be Bad’s secret roommate slash husband.

The screen door opens next. “Hey.” Bad’s secret husband calls out.

‘Fuck’ Quackity think elequintly. Maybe he should have spent less time in English avoiding becoming Sapnap’s friend and spent more time learning bigger words.

“Hi.” Quackity settles on after a pause that is definitely awkward.

“Can I help you?”

“Sapnap invited me-“ Quackity starts only to be cut off by a voice in the house.

“He’s my friend.” Sapnap call appearing behind his secret second dad.

“Oh.” Sapnap’s dad says before nodding. “Come on in then.”

Quackity goes in. “This is my dad Skeppy.” Sapnap introduces once Quackity makes his way inside and puts his shoes on one of those fancy shoe caddies that middle class people just love, really are you too good to just put your shoes on the floor?

“The roommate.” Quackity says without thinking with a nod.

“Roommate?” Skeppy asks confused.

“Nothing.” Quackity says with a strangled laugh.

Sapnap watched the exchange like it physically pains him but he saves Quackity from digging his metaphorical hole deeper. “Bad’s in the garden and we are going upstairs.” He announces grabbing Quackity’s wrist and pulling him upstairs with telegraphed movement.

Karl, already at the top of the stairs to meet them, is currently trying and failing to stifle his laughter at Quackity’s awkwardness. “Do you always act that awkward when meeting friends' parents?” He asks.

A brief flash of making someone’s mother laugh and calling him dear the way she did her own son flits across the forefront of Quackity’s mind.

“How would I know?” He answers, pushing the memory away.

Sapnap cuts the bickering that is almost sure to start up off, by grabbing Karl’s wrist as well and pulling them into what Quackity assumes is his room.

The room is very Sapnap, messy with plenty of flame decals and posters for shows and bands.

“It’s very you.” Quackity announces flopping his whole body onto Sapnap’s bed.

“Fuck you.” Sapnap counters immediately.

“It wasn’t an insult.” Quackity says, rolling his eyes.

“Yes it was.” Karl cuts in.

“Was not.” Quackity’s protests swatting a hand at Karl.

“It definitely was.” Sapnap says with an exaggerated frown.

“Please. If I wanted to insult you I would.” Quackity argues.

“Wow, I feel so loved.” Sapnap drawls.

“You should.” Quackity agress. “I’m a very insulting person.”

“Nah you're just short. All short people are rude. Look at Sapnap.” Karl says.

“Fuck you.” Quackity starts at the same time Sapnap lets out a groan and a “Man really.”

“It’s okay. I’m friends with you guys anyways.” Karl says with a grin.

And it’s true isn’t it? They are friends. Quackity has somehow gained friends and he can’t even find it in himself to be mad.

He can’t find it in himself to do much more than throw his arm over his face in a poor attempt at hiding the grin growing on his face.

It’s a stupid choice to trust them but Quackity has never been good at thinking to far ahead, hopefully he doesn’t reap the consequences of this particular action though.

Chapter Text

Leaving his fathers shitty apartment is like going outside after leaving a room full of incense. While there is a fuck ton of tension it isn’t the worst, it’s just so much better when Sam isn’t there.

So as Sam leaves on Sunday he is able to breathe a little easier and let some of the near constant tension drain out of his shoulders.

It’s nice, relaxing. And Sam considers it one of those little things that Bad is always encouraging them to enjoy.

So Sam enjoyed the drive back to Kevin’s house. He cranks up the music he likes loud enough that he can feel the vibrations and he rolls his windows down enough that he can smell the scent of fresh cut grass. It’s picturesque , really, very ideal teen summer from some cheesy movie that Ponk would like.

Sam is feeling substantially better than when he left his fathers place by the time he arrives at the house. Really Sam should just feel like this all of the time and he would never have to go back to therapy.

Of course that particular idea is a bit unrealistic so Sam settles on parking in the driveway and grabbing his duffel out of the back.

The key under the flower pot is collected and jammed into the front door knob. The door unlocks without much push back and Sam walks into the entryway.

“I’m back.” He calls into the house.

“You are just in time to meet my favorite new brother.” Hannah announces coming into view from the kitchen.

Only half processing her words Sam begins to take his shoes off. “What did Boomer do?”

“Why did you think they did something?” Hannah asks.

“He’s been demoted from top sibling.” Sam points out.

“He never was.” Hannah says mock serious and Boomer is apparently within earshot because Sam can clearly hear the annoyed noise they make.

Sam can also hear the sound of something scraping along the hardwood of the hallway before becoming muffled by the living room area rug.

Sam has no clue what is making the subtle ‘tap tap’ noise but he is almost positive he’ll find out.

“So whose top brother?” He asks Hannah.

Before Hannah can answer something slams into Sam’s shin, on habit Sam steps away and braces his body for some sort of sneak attack from Boomer, it wouldn’t be the first time after all.

However when the suspected attack never comes Sam looks down and what attacked him, only to find the happy face of a very hyper yellow lab.

The dog, a previously mentioned yellow lab, is panting slightly, his tail wagging so hard his butt shakes and drooling a bit as he looks up at Sam.

Sam is a dog person at heart so he does what any sane person would do and crouches down dropping his duffel as he goes to begin petting the dog with both hands.

This of course only makes the dog's tail wag harder and Sam takes it as a victory.

“This is top brother.” Hannah announces with the sort of seriousness that only she could have when talking about a dog.

“We got a dog?” Sam asks, feeling a child-like sort of excitement. As a kid he had always wanted a dog, but their apartment when Sam was a kid hadn’t allowed pets and the idea had sort of died.

“Yes.” Sam’s mom says happily from where she is sitting on the couch grinning at Sam something unreadable and positive in her eyes.

Sam smiles, a real genuine thing. “What’s his name?” Sam asks, still petting the dog.

“Nook.” Boomer tells Sam.

Suddenly something clicks for Sam, the green bandana, how happy Nook seemed to be at seeing Sam. Sam knows this dog. “Oh!” Sam says a bit shocked. “We’ve met before.”

“You’ve,” Kevin starts before pausing as if he’s trying to make sense of Sam as a whole more than his words. “You’ve met our dog before.”

“Yeah.” Sam nods. “We went to the shelter one Thursday.” Sam says and it’s probably an explanation enough judging by the fact that no further explanation is asked for.

“It got lonely here with one less person.” Sam’s mom says. “So we got a dog.”

“This is a very good surprise.” Sam nods

“I figured you’d be happy with the new development.” His mom laughs.

Nook, done with no longer being the center of attention as Sam and his mother talk, jumps up putting his front paws on Sam’s shoulders. The action is almost enough to knock Sam down onto his back, luckily though he manages to correct his weight distribution and not fall on his ass.

“Hello.” Sam laughs attempting to gently push Nook away to save his face from any further slobber.

“He likes you.” Hannah mock coos.

“You are rapidly dropping on the sibling dance moms triangle thing.” Sam says attempting to reference that triangle thing that makes the toddlers on exploitive reality dance shows cry.

“I’m back on top!” Boomer cheers overly loud and Sam snorts. Hannah in retaliation grabs a throw pillow and wacks Boomer upside the head.

Sam’s mom, even the intelligent woman, immediately flees into the kitchen to join Kevin and hide from what is sure to turn into a twin fight.

Sam, trapped under sixty some pounds of excitable dog accepts his fate with grace.

It takes a whole two minutes before Sam is caught in the crossfire of a moving pillow, Nook barks excitedly and Boomer lets out a curse at his poor aim.

Sam does what any sane person would do, he grabs the pillow off of the floor and chucks it as hard as he can at Boomer. Then when Hannah is doubled over in laughter at her twin's fate Sam does the same to her.

Sam spends his time home after finally being released from his fathers place on Sunday, throwing pillows at his step siblings and attempting to avoid the very excited dog who keeps jumping up to be included in the play fighting. It’s a pretty good day all things considered.

~~~

The rain is pouring down as Sam and Foolish run to get under the shelter of the church’s roof on Thursday.

Foolish is cackling from slightly ahead of him and Sam is just cursing how cold he is bound to be when he walks inside to the air conditioning.

“I love the rain in the summer.” Foolish grins holding the door open for Sam.

“Of course you would.” Sam snarks.

“What does that even mean?” Foolish asks confused as the pair make their way towards the basement.

“Fuck if I know.” Sam snorts, ignoring Foolish’s indignation.

“Language.” Bad’s voice shouts out from beyond the basement door.

“He knows.” Foolish whispers. Sam rolls his eyes and opens the basement door.

“Sam, Foolish.” Bad greets them both with a smile.

Fundy isn’t there yet but that isn’t too surprising, recently about half the time Fundy has gotten into the habit of being anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour late.

Sam takes his seat on a folding chair and pulls out his phone to kill the time, killing the time mostly involved half scrolling through instagram and sending the most outrageous ads as links to Ponk and Foolish.

Fundy arrives fifteen minutes later only looking somewhat guilty and rather frazzled.

“Alright, I’m glad you’ve made it Fundy. We’re going to go ahead and head outside for today’s activity.” Bad announces.

“In the rain?” Quackity asks, voicing Sam’s own incredulous thoughts.

“Yes in the rain,” Bad says with a shake of his head. “We’re going to see a rainbow today. As we go let’s do our introductions, my name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that I got to go out with some friends this weekend. One bad thing about my week is how bad the air quality has been. As for today's question, what’s your favorite kind of weather? I’d say warm and sunny.”

As they make their way up the basement steps, Fundy goes next. “I’m Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I finished a book. One bad thing about my week is that I feel tired. My favorite weather is fall weather.”

“I’m sorry you’ve feeling tired. Try and get some more sleep, Fundy.” Bad says sympatheticly.

“I’m Sam.” Sam starts next. “I feel good. One good thing about my week is that we’ve got a dog at my moms house now. One bad thing about my week is that I’m closing at work. I like warm weather.”

“That’s a fun development.” Bad nods at Sam. “Are you excited?”

Sam nods his head and Foolish starts his introduction. “I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that with the cool weather I’ve been able to workout outside. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot I had schoolwork over the summer. My favorite weather is probably warm and cloudy so the sun isn’t too bad.” Foolish says.

“I'm glad you’ve been enjoying the weather and I hope your schoolwork goes well.” Bad says nodding.

They’ve made it just outside of the front door to the church by the time that Charlie starts his introduction and the group of them just stand there listening.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I’ve gotten really into watching lockpicking videos. One bad thing about my week is that I feel very lethargic. I like spring weather.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling the best.” Bad starts and by the look on his face he is probably going to comment on the idea of Charlie’s lockpicking videos, Quackity however cuts him off.

“I’m Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with some friends. One bad thing about my week is that a pipe burst. I like cold weather.” Quackity says.

“I’m glad you’ve been feeling alright. I am sorry about the pipe though.” Bad says.

“Standing in the rain for too long can make you sick but I thought since it was sunny out and raining it would be a perfect time to look for a rainbow.” Bad starts “While some of us may or may not enjoy the rain, rainbows are something I think we can all enjoy seeing because of their beauty and rarity. I think we should all live our lives attempting to find as many rainbows, both metaphorical and not, as we can.”

With those words Bad opens the door to the church usering their group outside and into the rain.

True to Bad’s words however Sam can see a rainbow off to the left, while it is faint it’s still there, and sure enough it is beautiful.

~~~

“I’m actually going to move in with you.” Ponk says leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better view of the picture of Nook that Sam is showing them.

“Oh so you only love me if I have a dog.” Sam jokes.

“Absolutely if Foolish got a dog we would be having the same conversation.” Ponk says with no hesitation.

“Glad to know me and Sam are on equal standing with you threatening to move in with us.” Foolish grins. “Nook is so cute though.”

“He’s one of the dogs from the shelter too, from when we went.” Sam explains.

Foolish’s eyes light up in recognition and he smiles. “That’s such a funny coincidence.”

“Fate.” Ponk says matter of factly.

“Fate isn’t real.” Sam snorts.

“Yes it is.” Ponk counters.

They both turn to Foolish who sighs. “I am pleading the fifth.”

“Overruled.” Sam says. “What’s your stance on fate?”

“I don’t know. Can I be faith agnostic?”

Ponk hums “Alright.” He decides.

“I can’t believe your faith agnostic when we were just at a church.” Sam says laughing at his own jokes despite Ponk’s loud booing at his bad joke.

Sam smiles again and when looking at Foolish for a reaction all he finds is Foolish staring at him with a strange look in his eye.

Chapter Text

Here is the funny thing about depression, it sneaks up on you sometimes. Sometimes you’re in the middle of hanging out with your friends doing something fun and then suddenly you feel numb to the whole thing around you.

This isn’t one of those times though, Fundy can trace the lines of cause and effect back to what exactly has him where he is now.

Where he is now of course is curled up in a tight ball in the same spot on his bed he had been in for what feels like the past two weeks.

The first event would obviously have been finding the needle. But there’s also more on top of that. It would be the blank look in his mothers eyes as she looks at him. The look that makes him feel like he is six coming home from school to face the shell of a woman that drugs had created.

Sure, on some level Fundy knows that he shouldn’t be upset with her too much. She is sick, she has a sickness that she needs help for. But the other part of him knows that he is allowed to be angry. Everything going on around him is unfair and Fundy can fucking be angry about it.

The only good thing as of late is how adjustable the schedule for his custody is. Or maybe it’s not exactly adjustable but they have always just somewhat loosely followed its terms. Which means Fundy can spend more time at Phil and Kristin place than he would ever want too.

And it’s summer. Summer is a great time to fall into a depressive episode because there is no real reason for someone to get upset at Fundy for wasting his days away in bed. That is what he has been doing lately at least.

Though the cherry on top of the world's worst Sunday is the fact that it’s hell week. The worst week of every month that makes Fundy’s dysphoria worse. Sure rationally he knows that having a period doesn’t make him less of a man. Guys can have periods and some girls don't. It's fine. Except it’s not fine when it’s Fundy and he is a hormonal mess. He hates it.

And the whole thing has made Fundy wonder if he wasn’t worth staying sober for, would who he used to be have been? Would his mother have stayed sober if Fundy was still a girl? Would he be better if he forced everything that made him down?

Some part of Fundy knows that his mother is sick and nothing could change that but a childish part of him wonders what exactly he could have done better. Why wasn’t he worth staying sober? Why wasn’t he worth getting better for? It wasn’t fair.

Fundy’s thoughts have been an echo chamber of that same sentiment lately spending his time in the spare room and Phil and Kristin’s house losing time as he thinks.

Sometimes minutes pass in seconds and one second Fundy is thinking about how much he wishes things were different as the sun rises and the next he’s running through memories he wants to forget and it’s near midnight.

It’s worse however when time drags itself on. When Fundy can spend what feels like a day with the worst cramps of his life only to find out that it has been an hour.

It's miserable, he is miserable. And to make it worse at some level Fundy is aware that Wilbur thinks he is winning. Fundy is aware that Wilbur must think he has finally caved into spending more time with the family Wilbur loves and trusts so much.

To be clear Fundy hasn’t, but he also can’t stand being in the apartment with the shell of his mother that sends him straight back to being seven and rolling her passed out form on her side so when she pukes she doesn’t kill herself.

A wave of pain crashes into Fundy and he curls up a bit tighter hiding under the fuzzy blanket on his bed. Fundy’s cramps have always been somewhat like the waves in the ocean that freaks Fundy out so much. There is something like irony there.

The pain of the cramps can recede into something bearable before the pain crashes into him again making him remember exactly how miserable he is.

A knock taps against the door to the spare room. “Fundy?” Kristin’s voice calls out softly.

She’s done this before so Fundy doesn’t bother answering, if she is calling him for dinner she will come in and set a plate on his bedside table. If it’s something else she will probably just leave him be. Or at worst she will come in and try to talk to him.

“Can I come in?” Kristin asks and Fundy caves so he makes a somewhat agreeing noise in response to her words.

The spare room door opens and Kristin walks into the dark spare room while frowning a bit.

“Hey bud.”

Fundy let’s out another groan in response to her words.

“I know.” It’s sympathetic and Fundy feels a bit validated. “Just telling you we are leaving for group in a bit.” Kristin says.

Fundy uncurls a bit so he can level Kristin with his most begging look. He cannot bear to listen to Bad tell him why he should want to live when he really can’t find the appeal in it right now. He is tired.

“I know bud.” Kristin soothes. “But with how you’ve been acting lately I think it’s important that you go.”

Fundy can’t exactly argue with that but he can let out another annoyed noise. He didn’t want to deal with being a person. That takes too much energy he doesn’t have.

“Might want to shower before we leave.” Kristin says, patting Fundy’s arm from where it is under the blanket before leaving.

Fundy lays in bed for five more minutes just mustering up the energy to sit up and then another five to actually go shower the feeling of grossness that laying in bed for so long covered him in. He still can’t find the drive to brush his teeth but he hasn’t eaten enough lately that his breath should smell bad anyways.

~~~

Fundy wants to put sugar in the gas tank of Bad’s van. Is that an overreaction? Probably a little bit. But Fundy doesn’t really want to be acting human right now much less going somewhere. Though his opinion on the subject doesn't really matter.

“Alright everyone in the van. We are going to go get ice cream.” Bad announces after they all arrive and huddle in the world's most awkward semicircle around the van.

Fundy takes his usual seat in the back of the van and does his best to melt into the seat and tune out whatever Bad has to say about how ice cream should remind them of the beauty of life or how they shouldn’t kill themselves.

Fundy’s pretty successful at it until he unwillingly tune into Bad’s words near the end.

“You don’t really need to like something to enjoy it.” Bad says calmly in response to something someone has said.

Fundy feels out of depth but he nods his head regardless, only half sure of what exactly they are talking about.

“Isn’t your whole thing like us suddenly liking life though.” Quackity says with an annoyed tone in his voice.

Bad hums seemingly considering Quackity’s voice. “Maybe not liking it. But enjoying for sure and maybe not even all of the time because no one is happy all of the time. I just want all of you to understand that you are worth living for.”

“You want to give us reasons to stick around.” Sam sums up.

“Not in the way you all currently have. I don’t want you to live just because you don’t want to make your families sad or you feel like you have too. I want you all to learn to live for yourselves and then later to want to live.” Bad explains and Fundy’s heart does a weird little pounding thing that he does his best to ignore.

After a couple of minutes of none of them saying anything Bad speaks again. “Shall we do our introductions?” He asks rhetorically.

When none of them say anything Bad starts his introduction. “My name is Bad and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that me and Skeppy had a nice private dinner. One bad thing about my week is that our power went out. And since we are getting ice cream, my favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.”

Sam doesn't need prompting before he starts. “I’m Sam and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I have been sleeping very well. One bad thing about my week is that. I’ve got closing shifts at work again. My favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla.” He says.

Bad nods from where he is driving but doesn't offer any more input.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine.” Charlie starts next. “One good thing about my week is that I’ve got all of my summer homework done. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been stuck inside. I like vanilla as well.”

“I’m glad you’re getting your work done early Charlie.” Bad praises.

“I’m Quackity. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I went to lunch with some friends. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t done much else. My favorite ice cream flavor is cotton candy.” Quackity says.

“I’m glad you at least got to spend time with your friends. You don’t always need to do things to be accomplished though.” Bad says.

“I’m Foolish and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I got a new book. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been home alone a lot. My favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate.” Foolish says.

Bad nods again smiling. “What about you, Fundy?” He asks.

Fundy bites his lip forming a few lies in his head to tell Bad. He feels like he has been lying to everyone lately, that is what he gets he supposes for surrounding himself with mandated reporters.

“I’m Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I was in bed a lot. One bad thing about my week is that I feel dysphoric. My favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry.” Fundy says quickly and bluntly.

“I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well.” Bad says pulling into a parking spot at the ice cream place. “Do you want to discuss what has been causing that?”

Fundy would rather die than discuss his period with these people. “I’m good, thanks.”

Bad look disappointed but must know pushing won’t help because he doesn’t bother.

They all leave the car and walk into the ice cream place taking in the pastel theme. It’s cold in there and Fundy shivers a bit.

“Alright, go ahead and order.” Bad shoos them towards the counter

Fundy lets the others file into a line in front of him before he orders a single scoop of strawberry in a cup. Ice cream does not even sound appealing right now.

Charlie seems to be telling a story when Fundy gets to the table Bad has claimed for them and Fundy nods his head along half listening.

A foot kicks him under the table and when he looks up Fundy meets Quackity’s gaze as the other stares him down.

Fundy raises an eyebrow and Quackity frowns at him before pointedly taking a bite of his ice cream cone. A bite, like some sort of freak.

Fundy more out of spite than anything else raises his own spoon to his lips and eats some of the ice cream.

The two of them go back and forth while holding a strange staring contest for a while, and before Fundy realizes he has eaten his scoop.

Quackity looks away after that asking Foolish a question about the book he is reading. Fundy let’s his mind drift, thankfully though his thoughts don’t wander any further than the ice cream parlor.

Chapter Text

Charlie would like to consider himself a very observant person. It is helpful after all to sense changes in people before they occur, it allows him to pull his social camouflage act and change himself in turn.

Maybe that isn’t the healthiest thing to do, to change yourself to suit others so you can continue to make them laugh. But Charlie is really good at it, so why fix what isn’t broken?

That is Charlie’s opinion at least. But it is his ability to be observant that lets him know that something has definitely been off lately.

Sure at first he thought it was just the changing dynamic of the entire group. How they slowly went from people who could barely stand each other to people who could be considered friendly. Not friends really, because they aren’t friends, but friendly or at least more friendly than where they started.

They started out barely standing each other, because group was the stupid idea of someone who thought being around people who would understand, would make them more honest. Spoiler alert it most definitely didn’t.

Now they have changed however, they are kinder to each other and their teasing interactions no longer have that hostile undercurrent.

Quackity has softened around them, his barbs are no longer quiet as sharp, sure he isn’t the most friendly in the world but Charlie understands that it must scare him a bit. Hell the sudden changes even scare Charlie a bit.

Foolish has become more open and honest even if it’s about silly things and he for the most part seems to honestly enjoy spending time with them. It is almost enough to make Charlie feel a bit bad for the guy, being excited to be friendly with them isn’t the best thing in the world.

Sam seems a bit more genuinely happy, at the very least he takes up more metaphorical space than he used too.

It is Fundy though that has been throwing off the theme of group and acceptance that the others have developed.

For a while it seemed to Charlie at least that Fundy was opening up a bit. He seemed to enjoy hanging out with the others at least on the surface level.

But recently it seems like Fundy has been doing his best to shrink back into himself and fade into the background.

Charlie for all of his observance isn’t even the only one who had noticed. Quackity hasn't made any joking comments at Fundy’s expense in a while which is probably the nicest thing he could do. The others have also been giving Fundy both space and the opportunity to open up.

But Fundy looks downright sickly and miserable every time Charlie sees him which meant none of it was working. And maybe it was some misplaced feeling of duty or the empathy that group therapy was supposed to make them feel for one another, but either way Charlie wanted to help.

Maybe helping my Fundy also gave him something to do that wasn’t wallow in his own misery or family drama.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was Charlie was going to help his not quite friend in a way he hasn’t figured out yet with a problem he doesn’t really know of.

All in all it was a totally foolproof plan that was just covered in holes. Which meant that it probably wouldn’t accomplish much but it’s the thought that counts.

Charlie is trying to connect with his peers and be a helpful person, Bad would be so proud of him if he knew. Bad probably actually wouldn't be but Charlie had no plans to tell Bad so it didn’t really matter.

But Charlie did know how to get rid of a few holes in his plan, mainly his lack of understanding about what exactly is going on with Fundy, ask the others.

Charlie texts Quackity first mostly because Charlie is sure if anyone else noticed it would have been Quackity.

Charlie: has Fundy been off lately

Charlie watched the three little gray dots bounce for a bit as Quackity seemingly thought over his reply.

Quackity: more than usuals yes

Charlie: Do you know why?

Quackity: no? Why

Charlie: just worried I guess

Quackity seems to type a few different responses to Charlie’s text before deleting them. Charlie is pretty proud of his growth because he has to be deleting a few different rude responses. The one that comes through is rather nice too.

Quackity: if bad doenst do his job we’ll figure it out or smth

Charlie: that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me :heart eyes:

Quackity: kill yourself agian!

Charlie: you wish

Charlie resolves to himself to help Fundy and he is almost positive he isn’t the only person who wants too. Maybe they are all closer to being friends than he thought.

~~~

Fundy is just staring blankly at Bad’s van like it killed his entire family in front of him then pissed on their graves.

Charlie understands the pain that seeing the van erects in people but Fundy is definitely taking it to another level.

“We’re going to get some pizza today!” Bad announces.

“Ponk is going to be pissed.” Foolish whispers to Sam.

“Simply don’t tell them and order a dessert.” Sam counters.

“Glad to know you’re too afraid to piss him off.” Foolish snorts.

“Language both of you!” Bad says cheerfully startling the two away from each other.

“Let's all get in the van. Once we get to the pizza place we’ll do our introductions.” Bad says.

Charlie doesn’t bother arguing and instead gets into Bad’s stupid mom van without complaint.

Quackity complains a bit under his breath but he seems more focused on observing Fundy like he could telepathically figure out what is wrong with him.

Charlie would judge him for how obvious he is being, but he is almost positive he looks the same way.

Sam and Bad are making awkward quiet small talk about Bad’s family and Sam’s new dog but none of it is anything substantial or all that worth listening to.

Foolish and Fundy are also talking but it’s about the new Minecraft update rather than anything that would be helpful to Charlie’s investigation.

He does join in on the discussion about how cool the archeology aspects of the update are because while the conversation won’t help Charlie on his quest with helping Fundy, Charlie really does enjoy Minecraft.

Quackity joins in too but it is only to complain about how ugly he found the new bamboo woods. They are too yellow in his opinion.

The drive passes quickly though when Charlie is having a good time the passage of time always seems to go a bit faster than necessary.

Like when he is enjoying things the world seems to decide that he can’t enjoy it for too long.

Either way they arrive at the pizza place Bad had chosen rather quickly. And quickly file out of the van.

A hostess seats them at a table near the middle of the the restaurant and they check out the menu.

Bad let’s them look at the menu in silence and even order their various pizza slices before they have to do their introductions.

“Alright everyone, let's start our introductions!” Bad says.

“What no monologue today?” Quackity asks.

“Well, if you want one…” Bad says and Quackity goes to protest before being cut off by Bad.

“Do you guys like pizza?” Bad asks.

They all nod because they are American teenage boys and pizza is at its core part of that.

“Does it make you happy?”

They mostly shrug in response to that because it’s a rather loaded question.

“Well if you like it I consider things you like no matter how simple, reasons for you to live. Because some things are good no matter how small they are.” Bad says simply.

“Now, my name is Bad. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that work has been very easy. One bad thing about my week is that my parents' dog passed away. And for today's question, my favorite kind of pizza is veggie.” Bad says.

“I’m Fundy. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I slept in a lot . One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been very lethargic. I like cheese pizza.” Fundy says simply and bluntly.

“Do you know what has been causing you to feel that way?” Bad asks.

Fundy shrugs, “I haven’t done much I guess.” He mumbles.

After a minute or so of tension filled silence Sam speaks up. “I’m Sam and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that the weather has been nice. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t slept much. I like cheese pizza as well.”

“I’m glad you’ve been enjoying the weather Sam.” Bad says with a smile.

“I’m Foolish.” Foolish says next. “I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I went shopping with Puffy for some clothes. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a headache. I like pepperoni pizza.”

“It’s nice that you’ve been spending some quality time with Puffy, it’s also nice that you got some new clothes. What about you Charlie?” Bad asks.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that me and my sister hung out. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t seen any of my friends. I also like cheese pizza.” Charlie says.

“It's good that you and your sister are getting along at least.” Bad says before nodding at Quackity to finish their introductions.

“Im Quackity and I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that we finally put the air conditioning unit in my window. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been super hot out. I like pepperoni and pepper pizza.” Quackity says.

Bad nods at Quackity’s words but before he can go any further a worker comes by with simple paper plates with their pizza slices on them.

They all dig in with the appropriate amount of vigor that five teenage boys should have when being presented with plates full of pizza. It’s good pizza at that, cooked well with a sauce that tastes slightly sweet and very good.

They don’t converse too much as they eat, mostly they are focused on devouring their food as quickly as possible so that they can leave group sooner rather than later.

Charlie does notice that Quackity kicks Fundy under the table once or twice when Fundy seemingly zoned out while thinking and stops eating. Charlie isn’t 100% it’s out of concern and not just wanting to leave earlier but the sentiment is there, especially considering it works.

Once they finish eating Bad makes them get back into the van so he can drive them back to the church and none of them complain over the prospect of leaving.

Charlie does do his best to listen to Fundy and Foolish’s conversation though, they still aren’t talking about anything important but Charlie is still hoping for some hint about how he can help Fundy.

He doesn’t get one but he feels like he is on the right track, he wants to help Fundy and he genuinely thinks he can.

Maybe that is the whole point of group, not for them to suddenly become friends or suddenly feel better but instead for them to help each other feel better.

Chapter Text

Foolish isn’t cyber-stalking Sam and Ponk. Really, he isn’t. He just so happened to be scrolling through instagram and maybe he happened to type in their usernames.

Look, it’s two am and Foolish’s eyes have started to burn from how long he has been awake. But its a completely normal thing to do, to scroll through your friend’s social medias just to see if there is something you missed.

Not because Foolish is afraid of missing out, really he probably wouldn’t care if Sam and Ponk spent time alone because he likes to imagine if he spent one on one time with one of them the other wouldn’t care. It’s more because he feels like there is something right in front of his face that he is missing. Like a new haircut or a fucking sign with the words idiot on his own forehead.

Foolish can’t explain what brought the feeling on, all he knows is that it hadn’t gone away throughout his day, so here he is at two AM on a Wednesday scrolling through their pages.

Ponk’s page is pretty normal. Filled with images of herself and family, and friends, and the occasional funny bit of graffiti.

Foolish entertains himself for a bit by scrolling through their posts like he hasn’t seen them a hundred times.

The most recent one is a photo of Ponk and their family on a lake somewhere captioned ‘sunny days!’

There are two photos of funny bumper stickers after that before a photo of Sam with his back to the camera stirring a bowl of something captioned ‘is it a red flag if his hair is green?’

Foolish scrolls through the comments on that posts until he finds Sam’s reply, which is simply ‘is it a red flag if they take photos while your back is turned?’

Foolish scrolls through three more photographs before finding his own face grinning back at him. It’s a photo from prom night, Sam, Ponk, and Foolish all have ice cream in their hands and they are tinted neon colors under the sign from the ice cream parlor.

The caption is just a few dancing emojis but Foolish finds himself grinning in a fit of tired delirium. He has seen the photo a thousand times but each time it makes him happy to remember the great day he spent with his friends.

Foolish finds Sam’s comment on that post too, ‘great night bad dancing’

Foolish clicks on Sam’s page from the comment. Where Ponk’s profile photo is a picture of her bathed in sunset orange that takes Foolish’s breath away, Sam’s profile photo is half of his own face and half of Ponk’s cut off under the eyes.

Sam’s page is more scarcely updated. The most recent post is an uncaptioned image of Nook. Under that is a photo of Ponk and Foolish’s backs that Foolish hadn’t realized he took until he saw the post. Finally the last post after a long period of silence is another photo from Prom night.

All of Sam’s photos after that show him smiling with closed lips and not reaching his eyes with hair that isn’t green. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out so Foolish doesn't bother scrolling that far. Instead he takes in the smiles on all three of their faces.

Foolish goes to click away to scroll through his feed for a bit before bed but his tired fingers make the worst mistake he can imagine. He likes Sam’s post from months ago.

‘Fuck’ is the only intelligent thought bouncing around through Foolish’s vacant brain.

How can he mess up this bad? He should know better by now. Stalking someone’s instagram page is one thing but liking their photo from two months ago at two am is a whole other thing.

Sam is going to think he is weird and strange. Or weirder and stranger than Foolish actually is. And of course Sam will tell Ponk because it’s only natural and they will both hate him.

The only two actual friends he has made in so long and a slip of his finger has ruined it all.

Foolish is mentally writing his own eulogy when his phone buzzes in his hand.

Double fuck

It’s a text from Sam. Foolish is ruined. This is the end of the world and Foolish wants to melt into nothing.

After taking a minute to gather himself Foolish opens the text.

Sam: go to bed. It’s late.

Foolish stares at the words. No implication that he is weird or that Sam hates him. Just concern over how late he is up.

Foolish: you’re up too

It’s possibly the stupidest response he could have come up with but it’s the only thing he can think to respond with.

Sam: touché

Foolish snorts smiling at his phone like a school kid with a crush.

Foolish: goodnight man

Sam: what no heart

Foolish: <3

Sam: that was a pity heart

Foolish: there is no pleasing you

Sam: <3 true
Sam: goodnight

That went much better than Foolish ever thought it would. Maybe he shouldn’t worry so much, maybe he doesn’t need to worry so much around his friends.

Foolish smiles to himself as he shuts his phone off and resolves to himself that he should probably go to bed. Two in the morning is too late to be awake anyways, especially since he actually has group tomorrow.

~~~

Sam picks Foolish up every Thursday now but he doesn’t come inside Puffy’s house. He pulls into the drive and texts Foolish that he is there. It’s their routine.

Foolish thinks part of it is that is because if Sam went inside it would change the lines they have drawn in the sand.

Like if Sam comes inside it will be an admission that they are genuinely friends. Which is stupid because they are friends but still it makes Foolish feel safe to hide behind the safety of meeting Sam in the drive.

The routine hasn’t faced any problems until this particular Thursday. The problem is that it’s summer and Tubbo is outside playing and Foolish doesn't think of that until after Sam texts him and he makes his way out of the front door.

Puffy is following him so Foolish makes a noise of question as he opens the front door.

“I’m going to go call Tubbo in for dinner. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you and your friend.” Puffy says with a laugh.

Foolish lets out a sigh, Tubbo is outside playing. God Foolish can only hope he has left Sam alone.

When Foolish finally gets the door open and looks outside he knows his wishes had not been answered.

Tubbo is standing on the step of Sam’s truck, his head practically leaning in Sam’s open driver's side window and the two of them seem deep in conversation.

Foolish jogs towards the truck hoping he can somehow stop this before it gets too far.

“So you’re his boyfriend.” Foolish hearts Tubbo say and he speeds up.

“I am not.” Sam says his tone light and simple.

“But you go on dates every Thursday.” Tubbo counters and Foolish hears Puffy laugh.

“We do not.” Foolish cuts in all but throwing the passengers side door open to enter Sam’s truck.

“We hang out with another friend of ours.” Sam says.

“Oh.” Tubbo says seemingly thinking before he nods seriously. “So Foolish has two boyfriends.”

Foolish starts to sputter out denials while Sam laughs unhelpfully

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Puffy cuts in lifting Tubbo up from under his armpits. “It was nice to finally see you.” He tells Sam.

“You as well ma’am.” Sam agrees easily like Puffy probably isn’t judging their routine of avoiding Sam going inside.

“Just Puffy is more than fine. Feel free to come inside next week.” Puffy says before carrying Tubbo inside.

“I want to die.” Foolish whispers embarrassed after the front door finally closed again.

“I thought it was sweet, he cares.” Sam laughs.

“They aren’t your family.” Foolish counters.

Sam makes a strange noise looking at Foolish out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” Foolish asks confused.

“Nothing.” Sam says all too quickly.

~~~

The car ride to the church had passed quicker than Foolish would have enjoyed but he couldn’t complain too much, especially when it seemed like this week's activity would be somewhat normal. No van pulled to the front of the church, no table set up in the basement, everything was as it was.

They wait for Fundy to arrive before Bad starts their session but Foolish isn’t too worried about the wait.

“Alright looks like everyone is here so we can go ahead and get started.” Bad says once Fundy finally arrives and takes his seat.

“Today on the list we are doing black and white photography. To be honest I wasn’t too sure what to do for this one, so I decided after our introductions this week I’ll just take a nice picture for you guys to remember and look back on. Photography is a great way to remember the good moments or have something to look back on and see how far you've come, or both of those!” Bad explains.

“So let’s go ahead and start our introductions. My name is Bad and I feel fantastic. One good thing about my week is that Skeppy’s sister is coming to visit. One bad thing about my week is that Rat hates the fireworks from Fourth of July. And for today's question, my favorite photo is the first one I took after Sapnap’s adoption. He has cake all over his little face, it’s very sweet.” Bad says.

Fundy doesn't wait for prompting and instead starts his introduction easily. “I’m Fundy. I’m tired. One good thing about my week is that I finished a new book, one bad thing about my week is that I was super stressed because of AP scores coming out. My favorite photo is the one of me and Wil that was taken after my first real haircut.”

“Why were you stressed exactly?” Bad asks.

“I guess I was just worried that I wouldn’t do well.” Fundy shrugs.

Sam waits a minute before he speaks. “I’m Sam and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I got a 4 on my AP literature exam. One bad thing about my week is that I lost my earbuds. My favorite photo is from my twelfth birthday, it’s just me and Ponk at an amusement park.”

“Congrats on the good score Sam!” Bad smiles. “Foolish, what about you?”

“I’m Foolish and I feel pretty good. One good thing about my week is that I watched mean girls. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been very hot. My favorite photo is probably the one I took with my friends at prom.” Foolish says keeping his words vague.

Bad nods his head in understanding before turning to Charlie.

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine.” Charlie starts, “One good thing about my week is that it has gone by quickly. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t accomplished much. My favorite photo is probably one of me and my friends hanging out that Condi took.”

“You don’t always need to accomplish things. As long as your lack of accomplishment isn’t hurting you or putting you behind you can relax.” Bad says. “Alright Quackity your turn.”

“My name is Quackity. I feel decent. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I didn’t sleep like, at all last night. My favorite photo is an old one from a family gathering a few years ago, everyone just looked really happy.” Quackity says.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get any sleep but I’m glad you have been socializing more Quackity.” Bad says kindly.

Quackity though pulls a face at Bad’s words clearly disgruntled.

“You guys go stand against the wall and smile, I’ll take a photo.” Bad says.

There’s some mumbles of complaint as they all stand there but they also don’t argue with Bad loud enough for him to hear which Foolish is pretty sure counts as some kind of progress.

“Alright, three, two, one, and done.” Bad says, “I’ll send you all the photo but you are free to go.

Later in the plastic diner booth Foolish takes in the photo. It’s black and white and they all look like an absolute collective mess.

Quackity is clearly in the middle of saying something because his mouth is open and he is not looking at the camera and instead at Charlie. Charlie in turn is waving his hands around a bit equally as unfocused as Quackity.

Fundy isn’t smiling at all and instead seems to be doing his best to blend into the background. Sam’s smile is closed lipped and doesn’t reach his eyes but Foolish’s own smile is equally forced.

Foolish thinks the photos is very them but he doesn’t like it nearly as much as the photo from Halloween or the prom photos.

Chapter Text

Bad: Do all of you have bikes and a way to get them to the church?

Fundy: yes, Kristin’s van

Sam: yea

Foolish: puffy says I can borrow one

Quackity: no

Bad: alright! Quackity I’ll bring an extra with me today

~~~

Quackity is a bit less than enthusiastic about the idea of spending his group therapy session going for a bike ride. Realistically it was bound to happen eventually but like many other things on the list Quackity was hoping to avoid it.

Bad of course is standing in front of the church looking pleased as can be, he probably thrives off of the negativity that Quackity puts out with each session.

With Bad are two slightly beat up looking bikes, one red and one blue. Quackity can see Sam and Foolish by Sam’s truck in the parking lot where they are attempting to get two bikes off of the truck bed.

Fundy and Charlie are both already sitting on the little grass lot in front of the church with two bikes laying near them. Which means, unfortunately they are actually doing this and soon.

Sighing Quackity joins Charlie and Fundy on the grass. Charlie seems to be prodding into how Fundy’s day has been, Fundy himself seems less than happy about this but he has yet to actually like bite Charlie or something so Quackity doesn't bother to intervene. Fundy probably needs someone to worry about him anyway because he clearly hasn’t been doing too well lately.

“Here we all are.” Bad says as Sam and Foolish join their sad little group. “Let’s start our introductions so we can get ready and go. My name is Bad and I feel energetic. One good thing about my week is that I got to sleep in this morning. One bad thing about my week is that a client sadly had to cancel a session that I think they needed. I can’t think of a related question…” Bad trails off thinking.

“Who taught you to ride a bike?” Charlie suggests.

“That’s a good one Charlie, my mother taught me.” Bad answers with a nod.

“I’m Fundy. I feel tired. I’ve been sleeping a lot this week which is good. I did some summer homework which was bad though. Wilbur taught me how to ride a bike.” Fundy says plainly.

“I’m glad you’ve been getting some sleep in.” Bad agrees easily but he seems to be filing some information away for later.

“I’m Sam.” Sam starts his introduction next. “I feel better. One good thing about my week is that I went on a hike. One bad thing about my week is that I cracked my phone screen. My mom taught me to ride a bike.”

“I’m glad you’re getting out and spending some time in nature.” Bad smiles.

“I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I finished a book. One bad thing about my week is that summer training has sucked. I had a foster brother teach me to ride a bike once.” Foolish shrugs.

“I hope you enjoyed reading the book.” Bad nods. “Charlie?”

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie starts. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I slept over at Condi’s place. One bad thing about my week is that my aunt is visiting and she’s very loud. My dad taught me.”

“I’m glad you are spending time with your friends, it’s always important.” Bad says.

“I’m Quackity.” Quackity cuts in.” I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I haven’t had to do much. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been a bit bored. My dad taught me to ride a bike.”

“Sorry you’ve been bored but it’s nice to relax on occasion.” Bad comments. “Now we can go, riding bikes is another great way to spend time outside and when with others. I’m sure you are all tired of hearing my opinion on why nature helps improve moods but I do think it’s important to remember that on occasion being physically active also helps. Working out in any capacity is a great way to increase blood flow to your brain and clear your thoughts.”

Quackity isn’t entirely sure Bad knows what he is talking about exercise or fitness wise, hell some days Quackity isn’t even sure he knows what he is talking about therapy wise. He doesn’t say it of course, instead Quackity just follows Bad lead and grabs the extra bike off the ground before getting on.

The bike seat is a bit bigger than it probably should be for Quackity but he can’t be bothered to move it. He is too focused on staying balanced on the bike anyways.

The others follow their lead and they form a strange little line down the pathetic sidewalk near the church, it won’t take them very far but it doesn’t really matter too much.

They make it all of two minutes before one of them attempts to awkwardly fill the quiet that was only taken up by the sound of tires on cement and peddling. “So what’s the worst ice cream flavor?” Charlie asks like it’s a normal conversation starter.

Quackity has to fight to keep a growing smile off of his face at Charlie’s antics.

“Pistachio all the way.” Sam says instantly.

“It’s green like your whole thing.” Foolish snorts.

“Only old people like that ice cream, I agree with Sam.” Fundy cuts in.

“You just don’t have a refined pallet.” Charlie argues. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“No way you like old people's ice cream.” Fundy laughs pulling a facial expression that is the closest to a smile he has gotten in a while.

“I do!” Charlie laughs.

“What’s your least favorite then?” Sam asks.

“I hate rocky road, there are too many different textures.”

“That is absolutely valid, I don’t like strawberry ice cream because it never actually tastes like strawberry.” Foolish says.

Fundy lets out a noise of disagreement, “Strawberry is the best flavor actually.”

“A bad time to say I hate how plain vanilla is then?” Quackity jokes.

They quickly being to fill the time while they bike by arguing, out of the corner of his eye Quackity is pretty sure he can see Bad grinning but he doesn’t call him on it.

~~~

Quackity’s room is a bit colder than he would usually like it, especially with damp hair from his shower clinging to the back of his neck, but he can’t be bothered to climb under the blankets on his bed.

Instead Quackity is slightly cold and sprawled on top of his bed reflecting on the events of his day and debating texting Karl or Sapnap.

He doesn't really have anything to say to them, he has no convenient conversation starter or excuse to text them but he really wants to.

It is definitely pathetic of him, how he is unable to spend even the shortest amount of time on his own with his own thoughts after being given a taste of friendship.

He wants to blame Sapnap and Karl for his new found weakness but Quackity has always been someone who carved connection and contact even when he forced himself to push people away.

Though to be fair Quackity did a pretty shitty job of pushing people away, Sapnap and Karl were definitely proof of that but the members of his stupid group therapy were also starting to work their way into his good graces.

Maybe he is growing soft or maybe he always has been but Quackity feels significantly less alone then he usually does. It’s like taking a breath of fresh air just being around others and not being isolated.

The irony of Quackity’s hatred of being alone while he actively pushed others away isn’t lost on him. He knows how to look in a mirror and spot his own stupidity but he also knows that what he was doing was for the best. He couldn’t let someone get close enough to hurt him again, especially when he was still in the early stages of building himself back up.

He would never admit it under the threat of death but maybe his therapy was helping a bit, even if Bad’s understanding of Quackity’s friendship with his son was a violation of some oath or another.

Deciding he doesn’t have the energy to actually hold a conversation no matter how much he wants to, Quackiy chooses to forget his idea of texting the other two and instead he turns his old television on.

It’s a static filled old thing with one blown out speak but it’s better than nothing, just like the creaky old window unit that he uses in the summer to cool his room down since his house is too old to have air conditioning, it always makes his room a bit too cold but it’s better than melting to death.

Quackity is mindlessly scrolling through channels debating what to watch. Cable television these days is full of reruns that Quackity has seen a hundred times but he could probably watch a few episodes of parks and recreation before the mind numbing boredom got to him and he would give up and do his best at sleeping.

Quackity is just about to click the button to turn his show on when his Dad’s voice interrupts his mock tranquility. “Quackity your friend is here!” His Dad’s voice shouts up the steps to his room.

The words themself give Quackity a reason to pause in confusion.

Karl and Sapnap both know where he lives in theory, they have dropped him off after hang outs and Quackity has complained more than once about the state of his house and how it sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the block.

But Karl didn’t have a car so he definitely wouldn’t just show up and neither he or Sapnap are the type of people to show up at his house unannounced or invited without so much as a text.

There is also the fact that his dad said ‘friend’ as in only one person. Quackity has hung out with both Karl and Sapnap one on one but he honestly can’t believe one of them would just show up without the other.

Quackity can’t think of anyone else it could be though, no one from group knows where he lives and Quackity doesn't exactly have a lot of friends.

Confused Quackity gets up from his bed and leaves his room to go see exactly who has shown up out of the blue.

The good thing about the layout of his house is that Quackity’s room is upstairs which is nice, it’s also nice that the stairs lead almost right to his front door. Meaning as Quackity walks down the stairs he gets a perfect view of the man in the doorway.

Next to the shoe rack that is empty and instead has shoes thrown around it, is a man, a boy technically, looking rather out of place in his crew neck hoodie for some school Quackity only half knows the name of.

His hair, which was overgrown and shaggy last time Quackity saw it, is neatly trimmed and his face is clean shaven in a way that feels alien.

It feels like someone took Quackity’s last remaining memory of the person in front of him and moved everything around a bit until the person in front of him became unrecognizable. It’s strange because Quackity should be able to recognize him with his eyes closed.

Quackity pauses in the stairs, his breath leaving his lungs and his racing thoughts suddenly jerking to a pause.

“What’s wrong Pumpkin? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Schlatt asks with a look in his eyes that tells Quackity that he knows exactly what’s wrong, but he is praying Quackity will ignore what’s wrong, that they will act like nothing has changed and Quackity will invite him upstairs to play Mario kart like friends do.

“Get out.” Quackity's voice is smaller than he wants it and it’s getting harder to draw his breath.

Schlatt’s face crumbles like a card tower. “Quackity…” He starts.

And Quackity knows if he hears his old friend out he will never stop, he will hear Schlatt’s reasoning and excuses and promises of change and he will forgive him. So Quackity can’t hear him out.

“Leave.” Quackity insists.

Schlatt grabs the duffel bag he sat down off the floor and turns heel not without one last mournful look thrown over his shoulder though.

Quackity forces himself upstairs and while he attempts to breathe he forces himself not to think about the fact that he was Schlatt’s first stop when getting home.

It doesn’t matter, Quackity tells himself while trying to breathe. The words are a lie of course but the familiarity is comforting.

Chapter Text

Fundy is late to group, it isn’t surprising as he has been late a lot lately but still he is late and at some point Bad is bound to start asking questions.

If Bad starts asking questions Fundy will have to lie, the only other option would be telling the truth and losing his mother agian, maybe forever if social services thinks she simply isn’t fit to raise him after fucking up twice.

So after Fundy had shaken his mother awake from where she was passed out on the couch and forced her into the car to drive him to group, he spent the drive scowling out the front window.

It’s not like he couldn’t tell the difference between his mother sober and his mother on whatever it is she is shooting up now. He grew up around the difference between the two for fucks sake.

Sure without his father and Wilbur around Sally was more subdued and kinder while high but she was still a different person to Fundy. She looked different too in that shaky, pale, eyes dilated way that addicts often look.

“I’m sorry, it was just a long day at work and I forgot to set an alarm.” Sally lies.

Fundy knows it is a lie, Sally probably knows that Fundy knows it’s a lie yet she lies anyways.

Because it’s a lie, Fundy doesn’t bother responding to her and instead when the church arrives in view he gets out of her car without a goodbye.

When Fundy makes his way to the church basement his first thought is that maybe the christians weren’t too far off.

The basement lights are turned off and instead Bad has lit a fuck ton of candles around the room to the point where it has to be some sort of fire saftery risk or an asthma risk or something.

It doesn’t help either that the others are sitting in a circle making it look like the church basement is hosting the world's worst cult meeting.

“Fundy there you are. We can finally start.” Bad greets cheerfully which ruins the whole cult leader idea.

“Today's list activity is lighting candles, which I already did. Technically the list said to light candles when the power went out but we’ll have to make due. Now there is something to be said about an unexpected power outage and how we can relate that to unexpected negative events that could push us into a downward spiral or a relapse, but just like lighting a candle there are small things we can do to counteract it that can make all the difference.” Bad says.

“Even if it is something as small as talking to a friend or going outside or removing yourself from the trigger or other dangerous things, even things this small can make all the difference. Now, my name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that the garden has been producing well. One bad thing about my week was how dry it was. And for today's question my favorite activity when the power goes out is playing card games.” Bad finishes.

Desperate to seem as normal as possible, Fundy starts his own introduction. “I’m Fundy and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I went for a hike. One bad thing about my week is that I need a haircut soon and that is a hassle. My favorite power outage activity is probably star gazing.”

“I’m glad you’ve been spending time in nature and I hope you can get your haircut soon.” Bad says.

“My name is Sam.” Sam says next. “I feel good. One good thing from my week is that I didn’t have work. One bad thing about my week is that I still haven’t gotten the crack in my phone screen fixed. I like playing board games when the power goes out.”

“Sorry to hear about your phone.” Bad acknowledges. “Foolish?”

“My name is Foolish. I feel pretty good I guess. One good thing about my week is that I took Tubbo to the park the other day and it was surprisingly nice. One bad thing about my week is that the house has been super empty. When the power goes out I usually just sleep.” Foolish shrugs.

“I’m glad you’ve been bonding with Tubbo and getting more comfortable.” Bad smiles.

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I bought a new video game and it’s cool. One bad thing about my week is that I’m fighting with my dad again. I like reading when the power goes out if it’s still light out.” Charlie says.

“I’m sorry to hear about you fighting with your father but it’s nice you bought something you enjoy.” Bad says. “What about you Quackity?”

“I’m Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been binge watching legally blonde and mean girls. One bad thing about my week is that I had someone visit that I didn’t really want too.” Quackity says vaguely. “I like spending time outside when the power goes out.”

“Why didn’t you want them to visit?” Bad asks, confused at Quackity’s vague words.

“I just didn’t.” Quackity says blandly. “Sometimes things aren’t that deep.”

“I mean, when you're acting this weird there is probably another reason.” Fundy says a bit meaner than he intended.

“Who put a stick up your ass?” Quackity asks.

“Language both of you!” Bad scolds them.

“I mean in Fundy’s defense he’s not wrong.” Sam shrugs.

“I thought we bonded?” Quackity says his tone is one of mock hurt. “All of us, I thought we were bonding and now you pull this shit.”

“I imagine this betrayal stings.” Charlie says with a grin. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it.”

“Like a therapist.” Foolish suggests with a laugh.

“Die.” Quackity suggests.

“You wish.” Charlie laughs.

Fundy feels weirdly detached watching the others joke around with one another and get along, rationally he knows he could join, he could be part of this. But he feels so separated from everyone surrounding him and his own body.

“You are all so lame.” He forces the joke out with a grin that feels straining.

“You are equally as lame. We have a lameness ratio.” Sam says.

“Slander.” Fundy grits out with a grin while standing up. “We can leave right?” He asks Bad.

“Of course.” Bad nods though he is studying Fundy in a way that makes him feel like the frogs they dissected in middle school. “You are all free to go.”

The others begin to stand up and get ready to leave but Fundy is already climbing the basement steps.

Sally’s car is, surprisingly, idling in front of the church. Stealing his nerves, Fundy opens the passenger door and gets in.

He studies his mother out of the corner of his eye, she is less his mother and more a conduit for whatever it is that isn’t love or blood that flows through her veins.

“Can you take me to Phil and Kristin’s tonight?” Fundy asks.

He watches as his mother frowns and tenses. “It’s not their week.” She points out as if this might distract them both.

Fundy picks at a hangnail on his thumb, he keeps losing his hold on it and hasn’t made much progress. “We’ve never really adhered to the schedule.” He says.

“Fundy…” There are a hundred thoughts in one word.

“Please.” Fundy still isn’t meeting her eyes. He doesn’t want to deal with this, he wants to wake up and for it all to have been a dream.

“I’m trying.” Sally says putting the car into drive. It is the closest either of them will probably get to acknowledging what is wrong.

“Okay.” Fundy says finally tearing the hangnail from his skin. “Sure you are.” A bead of blood forms on his thumb.

“I am.” It’s a bit more defensive this time but Fundy doesn’t comment on it. In fact throughout the rest of the drive he doesn’t say a thing at all, neither does his mother.

“Do you need anything from the apartment?” Sally asks finally as they arrive at Phil and Kristin’s neighborhood.

“I’ve got stuff here.” Fundy says.

“Alright.” There is a pause sas the car pulls into their driveway. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Fundy forces out as he slams the car door behind him. It’s not like he lied, he loves his mother but he is also so fucking angry at her.

Phil and Kristin’s perfect suburban utopia isn’t his home so Fundy knocks on the front door.

There is the sound of small feet hitting the hardwood of the hallways then the front door swings open.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Tommy says because he is eight and terribly blunt when he wants to be.

“I know.” Fundy says.

“We’re having dinner.” Tommy says.

“Okay I’m going to go upstairs.”

“You aren’t gonna have dinner?” Tommy asks.

“No.” Fundy ignores the fact that he hadn’t eaten since his lunch of grocery store deli meats.

“Okay.” Tommy shrugs. “I’ll tell mom you’re here.” Tommy calling Kristin mom is a new development Fundy is sure and for some reason it stings. Maybe because it is just another reminder that Fundy truly doesn’t belong here.

Fundy opens the spare bedroom door and lays on the bed curling into a ball, he doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or binder off he just drifts.

Time passes in a blur and Fundy’s thoughts are an endless loop of how angry he is and how unfair it is and how he just wishes his mother was stronger.

His chest hurts and he can’t tell if it’s the sinking weight of anxiety or the pain of binding for too long, he doesn’t really care to fix either one.

At some point in the midst of Fundy’s drifting a knock sounds on the door. “You in here, Fundy? Tommy said you came over.” It’s Phil.

“Yeah.” Fundy grits out even though he really doesn’t want to talk.

“Can I come in?” Phil asks.

“It’s your house.” Fundy mumbles so quietly he isn’t sure Phil will even hear

“It’s your room. It’s a yes or no mate. I don’t care either way.”

Phil definitely cares. Everyone cares even if they say they don’t and if Fundy picks the wrong one he’ll be angry and he’ll pretend he isn’t but he will and he’ll wait until Fundy messes up something small to show that anger.

“You can come in.” Fundy says because he is almost positive that is what Phil wants to hear.

The door opens and Phil takes a seat on the desk chair. “You came over early.” He points out.

“Yup.” Fundy agrees.

“Any reason why mate?” Phil prompts.

The are a few answers here, honesty which will get his mother help but will get him taken away from here either permanently or temporarily. The risk isn’t worth it.

Fundy can lie but each lie he comes up with feels too empty and fake to be believed.

Instead of saying anything, Fundy just shrugs.

“You can talk to me mate.” Phil assures. “About anything.”

No, Fundy really can’t talk to him at all actually.

“Thanks Phil.” Fundy says instead of anything truthful. “I just want to sleep.”

Phil’s eyes look doubtful but he relents. “Alright. Have a good night.” He says standing up and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Twenty minutes later the door opens without a knock. Wilbur stands in the doorway looking annoyed. “Why are you here?” He asks.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Fundy can’t help but snap annoyed at Wilbur’s sudden intrusion. “Your perfect family all under one roof.”

“Not if you’re going to act like this.” Wilbur snaps back, always quick to anger and rise to the bait.

“Then fuck off.” Fundy offers.

Something slams on to Fundy’s bedside table and he pointedly makes eye contact with Wilbur and doesn't flinch.

“Whatever is going on you better sort it out. Talk to me, talk to Sally, talk to Phil or Kristin, talk to your therapist, for fucks sake talk to your friends. Just fucking talk to someone and get this shit sorted.” Wilbur demands like it is just that easy.

The guest bedroom door slams hard when Wilbur leaves and Fundy can’t stop the flinch that comes from that or the angry footsteps to follow.

Wilbur slammed a plate of food on his bedside table and Fundy makes a point to turn his back to it.

He can hear someone leaving Wilbur and Techno’s room and two voices in Tommy’s and Fundy feels more isolated than ever while surrounded by people.

Chapter Text

Sam stares blankly at Foolish’s foster mothers front door. He should go inside, Puffy made her opinion on that fact clear in just about the most polite way possible. But so far Sam hadn’t had to deal with that as Foolish had been waiting in the driveway the past few weeks.

Foolish had not been in the driveway when Sam had arrived today though which led to Sam standing on the front step where he is now debating if it’s worth it to actually go inside or if he can retreat back to his car and hide.

The second option is a hell of a lot more appealing. Sam however is fully aware that life isn’t about what he wants so he sucks it up and raps his knuckles against the door.

It takes a minute but eventually the door swings open revealing Puffy. “You actually came in.” She notes.

“Yes Ma’am.” Sam agrees because his mother raised him with manners.

“Don’t call me ma'am, it makes me feel old.” Puffy orders, “Come on in though.” She adds waking deeper into the house.

Sam takes his shoes off when he notices the others in the entryway then follows Puffy into the kitchen where Tubbo is sitting at the table reading a children’s book.

Tubbo looks up, staring at Sam with the deep stare only an eight year old can muster that makes Sam feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“Hey Tubbo.” He greets.

“Is it date night?” Tubbo asks.

“Still not a date but yes.” Sam agrees, smiling at the kid.

“It’s okay to date boys.” Tubbo says matter of factly.

“Yes it is.” Sam agrees a bit at a loss.

“So tell me about yourself then.” Puffy cuts in.

Sam has absolutely no clue what he is supposed to say to that. Sam has never really had to do the whole ‘meet the parents thing’ Ponk was one of the few kids who talked to Sam at school and the only one to ever want to talk outside of that.

To add to that Sam never really had to explain himself to Ponk’s parents who had known him long enough to simply gain facts about Sam through osmosis. What is he even meant to tell Puffy?

She already knows a few more notable facts about Sam, he has two friends he hangs out with weekly and he tried to kill himself. Both of those are not exactly base level knowledge either.

“Uh,” Sam flounders for a single fact about himself.

“Why would you come inside?” A voice calls from the house, Foolish quickly reveals himself into Sam’s line of sight saving him from awkward small talk like the saint he is.

“It’s polite.” Sam says plainly.

“When have you ever been polite?” Foolish snarks and Sam rolls his eyes.

“All the time actually, I could make you walk to group.” Sam points out.

“I would also be more than willing to drive you Foolish.” Puffy adds in from where she was watching their conversation with amusement.

“It’s fine, no need to be a bother.” Foolish dismisses.

“You aren’t a bother.” Puffy frowns.

Sam feels a bit like an outsider and would very much like to fade into the background.

“Right.” Foolish agrees awkwardly after a minute of silence.

“Your boyfriend looks uncomfortable.” Tubbo notes.

“Not his boyfriend.” Sam says at the same time as Foolish lets out a sigh and a “Sam isn’t my boyfriend.”

“It would be okay if he was, you know.” Puffy adds.

Foolish blushes red by nods anyways. “Yes Puffy.”

“Alright, just checking.” Puffy notes.

Sam almost thinks they may be able to sneak away when Puffy turns to study him. “Still nothing?” She asks.

“I’ve got a dog.” Sam forces out.

Puffy laughs seemingly startled by Sam’s lack of conversational skills but nods anyway.

“We’re leaving.” Foolish cuts in grabbing Sam’s arm and leading him towards the door. Thankfully no one stops their escape and they are able to leave without any more mortifying events.

The two of them get into Sam’s truck and Sam laughs even though none of that was really funny at all. “That was the worst ever.” He snorts.

“Why would you go inside?” Foolish asks through he is laughing as well.

“I’m an idiot. A total fool who forgot about social norms.”

“That was a social norm.” Foolish grins.

“A terrible one. We should get rid of small talk. Why would I ever want to tell anyone anything about me?” Sam asks.

“Who knows.” Foolish shrugs. “I’m sorry about Tubbo by the way.” He adds.

“He is fine. Here are worse things for a kid to think then that I’m dating you” Sam dismisses easily before mumbling a curse under his breath as a car turns and cuts him off.

He doesn’t even notice Foolish staring at him like maybe if he tries hard enough he could understand something.

~~~

Group is being held in the backyard of the church around an old fire pit that hadn’t been used in ages if the lack of ashes are any indication.

The fire pit definitely held some of those weird youth groups with the guitars that they show in some movies and televisions shows.

Hell by the time that Sam and Foolish get there the others are sat on fucking logs around the firepit. Quackity looks rightfully uncomfortable with the whole thing.

The fire at least is doing okay in the pit, different shades of red and orange constantly moving in a honestly rather pretty way.

“You two are late.” Fundy points out like the hypocrite he is.

“Puffy wanted to talk with Sam.” Foolish shrugs taking a seat.

Quackity shoots Sam a look that walks a fine line between mocking and confused. It’s almost impressive that he can convey that much.

“Alright everyone settle down.” Bad orders. “Today as you can see we are doing ‘the smell of campfires.’ Smoke is such a lovely smell in the summer especially when you are gathered around the fire with people you care about.”

Someone snickers and Sam understands the sentiment.

Bad continues unbothered. “I think you already know what I have to say about light and warmth and friends apparently so we can just move on. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I had dinner with my parents. One bad thing about my week is that my headlights went out in my car. And for today's question, I like s’mores.”

“My name is Fundy.” Fundy starts next. “I feel tired. One good thing about my week is that I watched back to the future with Phil which was fun. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t been getting much sleep. “I also like s’mores.”

“I’m glad you’ve been spending time with Phil and enjoying it. What has been causing your lack of sleep?” Bad asks.

“My phone.” Fundy deadpans and Sam is almost positive it’s a lie.

“I’m Sam.” Sam cuts in taking pity on both Bad and Fundy. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I made good tips at work. One bad thing about my week is that I had to cover for a coworker on my day off. “I think s’mores are alright.”

“It was nice of you to do that for you coworker Sam.” Bad smiles.

Foolish let’s them sit awkwardly for a minute before doing his introduction. “I’m Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I slept in. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been super hot out. I’m pretty neutral on s’mores overall.” He says.

“It’s good that you are sleeping in.” Bad acknowledges. “What about you Charlie?”

“Well, my name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing from my week is that I had no arguments with my family. One bad thing about my week is that I had a super bad headache on Monday. I’m also neutral on s’mores.” Charlie says.

“I’m glad you had no arguments this week. Sorry to hear about your headache though.” Bad says.

“I’m Quackity.” Quackity says. “I feel good, I guess. One good thing about my week is that I went to the skatepark with a friend. One bad thing about my week is that I can’t skate and ended up scraping up my knees getting taught. I like s’mores though I don’t have them a lot.”

“I hope you had fun with your friends. That sounds like a good time.” Bad smiles.

A log falls and is quickly eaten up by the fire. Sam is sure there is some metaphor for life in the beauty of the fire destroying the log but he by no means cares enough to find it.

~~~

“It's going to be our senior year in like four months.” Foolish say suddenly in the middle of dinner.

“Shut the fuck up?” Ponk offers. “I don’t want to think about that at all ever.”

“You hate high school?” Sam points out confused while also stealing a French fry off of Ponk’s plate.

Ponk makes an aborted attempt to slap Sam’s hand away before answering. “I absolutely do but I don’t want to think about college or the future or change.”

“All horrible and scary ideas.” Foolish agrees easily.

“I mean, this is our easiest class load isn’t it?” Sam points out. “We can half way enjoy it.”

“When have you ever enjoyed school Sam?” Ponk snarks.

Sam shrugs, unwilling to argue a moot point. “What are your plans for the future?” He asks Foolish instead.

“Architecture.” Foolish answers quickly. “Get a good scholarship to a good school and have the least amount of debt as possible.”

“Practical.” Ponk comments.

“But boring. What about the fun goals?” Sam adds.

“What do you mean fun goals?” Foolish asks confused.

“I have a personal goal to eat a whole lemon as a party trick.” Ponk cuts in.

“No?” Sam cuts off the ideas. “Like I don’t know dating or where you’ll live.”

“I like my idea better.” Ponk shrugs. “You can’t plan on dating.”

“Mindfreak someone into dating you.” Foolish jokes.

“Isn’t mindfreak, that like, street magic show?” Sam asks. “How would that apply? Like is this your card? And it’s your number or?”

“You could do that.” Ponk tells Sam.

“No one would find sleight of hand card tricks hot enough to want to date someone.” Sam snorts.

“I mean…” Foolish trails off thoughtfully. “I guess it depends.”

“I agree. I think your tricks are cool Sammy.” Ponk coos sarcastically.

“I hope you start dating a guy just so I can convince them to leave you.” Sam deadpans.

“That’s gay.” Ponk agrues.

“It is kinda gay to date a guy.” Foolish agrees.

“I said nothing about dating, only about sabotaging their relationship.” Sam points out.

“Eat your food.” Ponk huffs. “Stop talking about ruining my hypothetical relationships.”

“I’d do it to Foolish too if he wronged me.” Sam shrugs.

“Is that super to make me feel better?” Ponk asks at the same time that Foolish lets out a protesting “Hey!”

“No but it’s supposed to make you feel less targeted.” Sam snorts.

“Die?” Foolish suggests.

Sam laughs at that though Ponk seems a bit but on edge. Sam had long since stopped making jokes about killing himself around Ponk because it made them uncomfortable.

Sam nudges Ponk’s foot under the table and smiles at him. “Besides this is all assuming Ponk ever tricks someone into dating them.”

Ponk takes the offer of lighthearted banter for what it is. “I have a better chance than you and Foolish put together. Like twice the chance.”

“Zero times two is still zero.” Foolish jokes.

Sam can’t help but laugh at that and the other two quickly join in. Sam would never say it out loud but their dinners on Thursdays make the whole idea of group more bearable.

He can spend an hour or so reliving his worst mistakes if it means he gets to spend the next hour being reminded that he isn’t the only one. It’s nice to do something as simple as spend time with those he cares about.

Chapter Text

When Schlatt had texted Charlie asking if he wanted to hang out he was honestly a bit surprised.

It’s not that he wasn’t friends with Schlatt, though he wasn’t really, they were friends in the way that if they both knew no one else in a class they would sit together. They weren’t friends in the hang out outside of school way, but Charlie was one of the few people who knew what really happened to Schlatt.

To be honest like all other relationships in Charlie’s life it is complicated. But despite all of the complications Charlie wasn’t necessarily upset when Schlatt texted him.

Charlie knew that Schlatt was coming back from whatever military school he was sent off to and Charlie also knew that he hated being at home for too long so he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Staying at home too long was simply tempting fate until Charlie did something that made his mother angry in her silent seething way or got into a fight over some snide comment by his father.

So when Schlatt had invited Charlie to get dinner and chat Charlie didn’t think twice before agreeing. Besides Bad had already scheduled group for later today which means he had free time anyways.

That’s how Charlie reasoned it with himself anyways because saying he was sad and lonely sounded bad and Charlie was obviously happy and surrounded by people he cares about. Obviously.

Anyways that’s how Charlie found himself sat at a slightly sticky McDonalds booth eating some pretty okay chicken nuggets and catching up with Schlatt.

“You really know how to treat a guy.” Charlie points out during a lull in conversation. “A McDonald’s dinner. You didn’t even pay for mine.”

“I never offered to pay.” Schlatt snorts. “I drove us here anyways.”

“I don’t have a car.” Charlie defends. “Cars are expensive.”

“Cry about it.” Schlatt suggests and Charlie rolls his eyes with a grin.

“Go back to military school you loser.” Charlie jokes.

“I am not the biggest loser in this McDonalds.”

“Oh and I am?” Charlie asks.

“Yes. You're the one hanging out with the second biggest loser in the McDonalds making you the biggest loser.” Schlatt says.

“So it’s us and not the guy in the confederate flag hat?” Charlie asks, tilting his head towards the man in question.

Schlatt whips his head around to look, then glares at the man before looking at Charlie again. “We are the second and third biggest losers in this McDonald’s.” He corrects sagely.

“When do you want me to take you back to your place by the way?” Schlatt asks.

“I mean I need to be at a church in uh…” Charlie trails off checking the time on his phone. “An hour.”

“What the duck are you doing at a church? Dumbass.”

“Group therapy asshole.” Charlie jokes. “Wow I can’t believe you just insulted me about going to therapy. That’s like so old fashioned of you Schlatt. Literally what is wrong with you.”

“Hey hold on, I went to therapy in military school thank you very much. They told me I was troubled and made a mistake but am fixable. What’s your excuse, dickhead?”

This makes Charlie pause a bit. He has seen his close Schlatt and Quackity are to one another. They two were like planets with matching gravitational pulls so the idea that Schlatt didn’t know Quackity went to group was surprising.

Maybe he knew Charlie thought. It would make sense for Quackity not to tell Schlatt about the rest of them though. It really wasn’t Quackity place to snitch on the rest of them anyways.

Charlie however has made peace with what landed him in group however and trusts Schlatt not to be a dick about it. “I go to the same group therapy as Quackity.” Charlie says because that should be all Schlatt needs to understand.

“Quackity goes to therapy?” Schlatt asks, baffled.

Charlie attempts to figure out if Schlatt is fucking with him by studying his face. All his face gives away is that he is a strange mix of worried and confused.

Fuck. Charlie just let Schlatt know something he probably shouldn’t have. Could he backtrack? Play it off as a joke? How deep can he dig this hole because Charlie is fully willing to reach bedrock.

“Does he?” Charlie asks, attempting to keep his face normal. His face definitely isn't normal judging by Schlatt’s growing concern and the fact that he is fully aware he turns red when he lies.

“Does he?” Schlatt mimics.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Charlie asks just to get a gauge on the situation.

“Not really at this point.” Schlatt answers.

“Right. Well.” Charlie blinks.

“Is he okay?” Schlatt asks. Then like Charlie didn’t know he was talking about Schlatt clarifies, “Quackity I mean.”

And that is a loaded baked potato of a question. Because Charlie doesn't really know they answer. Like Quackity is okay in the way that he hasn’t tried to remove himself from the mortal coil agian but he also looks miserable sometimes and won’t let himself have friends, so Charlie has no fucking clue if he is okay.

“Sure.” Charlie says because sometimes it is okay to lie if it’s to spare someone’s feelings.

“I didn’t know.” Schlatt says eventually like Charlie didn’t already catch onto that.

“Sorry man. I just guessed you did. Though I suppose it was after you left.” Charlie says.

“Right.” Schlatt says staring at the dick shaped stain on their table like it might show him the answers to all of his questions.

Desperate to change the subject somehow Charlie grasps onto the first topic of conversation he can come up with. “So what would you do in the purge?” Charlie asks like it’s a normal question and not some fucked up reslut of listing into approximately one of Sam and Foolish’s conversations in which Sam infrodumped about horror movies and Foolish despite his fear of blood looked engaged.

Schlatt is not Foolish but he is clearly thankful for the change in topic.

~~~

Unfortunately for Charlie and the guilt that has made itself at home in his sternum the others are gathered on the front lawn of the church just standing there in the dark. Thankfully it’s dark enough that Charlie can’t see Quackity’s face because that would surely make the guilt worse.

Though it probably isn’t dark enough to hide the fact that it is Schlatt’s car dropping him off and not his moms.

“That’s for the ride man.” Charlie says.

“Thanks for hanging out.” Schlatt agrees with a nod though his eyes are locked firmly on Quackity and his face has some unreadable expression on it.

Charlie leaves the car and joins the others.

“Hello Charlie.” Bad greets. “Is everyone ready to start today's session?” Bad asks but they all know he doesn't really want their answers. Mostly because the answers would be no.

Charlie puts most of his effort into ignoring the fact that he can feel Quackity’s eye burning into the back of his skull. Though he makes out most of Bad’s words.

“Today we are catching fireflies which is why we are meeting so late. As fireflies only come out when it is dark out. I’ve always found them to be very pretty creatures and they make a lovely summer scene. Fireflies are meant to show light in the darkness and that even the smallest things matter.” Bad says. “Both of these things are true and I have been making a point to emphasize both of these ideas.”

Quackity is still looking at him and now that Charlie is standing closer to him he can see the confused look on his face.

“When children catch fireflies they also release them back into nature where they belong. To hold onto the good times and hope is important but sometimes we also need to let go of things to give us more room to grow. Now let’s move onto introductions. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I went on a hike with my family. One bad thing about my week is that the storm knocked down some of my plants. And for today's question let’s do a fun one, tell me one random small thing this week that brought you joy, separate from your good thing. Mine is that I found a penny face up on the ground and it’s supposed to be good luck.” Bad says.

Fundy goes next. “My name is Fundy and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I played Minecraft. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been arguing with my mom. A thing that brought me joy is the dandelions in sidewalk cracks.”

“I’m sorry about your conflicts with your mother but dandelions are such a great thing to bring you joy, they are very resilient after all.” Bad says thoughtfully.

“I’m Sam and I feel okay.” Sam says next. “One good thing about my week is that I got a new recipe from my grandfather. One bad thing about my week is that I had to deal with my cousins. A small thing is that I found one of Ponk’s bracelets in my truck and it made me smile.”

“It’s nice that you can bond with your grandfather through cooking.” Bad comments.

“I’m Foolish.” Foolish cuts in next. “I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I watched the Barbie movie. One bad thing about my week is that the air conditioning went out and it took a bit to fix. A small thing was that Tubbo fell asleep on my shoulder last night.”

“It’s nice that he trusts you that much.” Bad says.

“My name is Charlie.” Charlie says probably go quickly desperate to get Quackity’s eyes off of him. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I was out of the house a lot. One bad thing about my week is that I feel nauseous. A thing that made me happy is that my sister said I was right after an argument with our mom.”

“It’s nice that you have been getting out of the house at least. What about you Quackity?” Bad asks.

Finally Quackity’s eyes leave him. “I’m Quackity. I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that it’s been normal. One bad thing about my week is that the lawnmower broke which sucks. There’s this stuffed animal on my dresser that I’m happy to see I guess.”

“I’m glad your week has been normal. Now why don’t you all go ahead and catch some lightning bugs.” Bad only half suggests.

Charlie moves towards Fundy and watches the blinking lights of the fireflies for a bit before reaching out and carefully closing his hands around one.

When Charlie moves one of his hands the bug surprisingly stays where it is on his hand seemingly content. It lights up once and then twice while Charlie watches before flying away free again.

“So.” A voice says over his shoulder making Charlie jump.

Quackity has a lightning bug crawling up one of his fingers but he seems more focused on Charlie.

“So.” Charlie says in a totally cool and normal way.

“Why were you with Schlatt?” Quackity asks.

“We hung out. We had some classes together before he left.” Charlie says in a tone that he hopes conveys that he totally didn’t accidentally tell Schlatt about group.

“Right.” Quackity says plainly.

“You two are friends right?” Charlie asks after a moment of swearing while Quackity studies him.

“No. Not anymore.” Quackity says plainly before turning and watching a car pull up to the church. “That’s my ride.” He says simply pushing the firefly off of his finger and leaving.

Charlie feels both guilty and like he just walked himself into a situation bigger than he knew.

A firefly lands on him and Charlie looks at it. “You don’t know how easy you have it.” Charlie tells the bug.

As it’s a bug it doesn't respond.

Chapter Text

Sam: so you hate me

Ponk: I literally do yes

Foolish: ? I leave for five minutes to take a shower and come back to a divorce. This is just like foster home six

Sam: ??? Dude?

Foolish: Anyways. Why are you breaking up

Ponk: Sam’s a bitch that’s why

Sam: i want Ponk to go to a movie with me on September 29th but they hate me

Sam: actually, Foolish do you want to go to a movie then :)

Foolish: I mean it’s a Friday so sure?

Ponk: tell him what movie first you bitch

Sam: to late he agreed

Foolish: why can’t you go by yourself though?

Sam: because I’m a bitch

Ponk: he wants you to watch saw x with him Foolish back out quick

Foolish: why the fuck are they still making saw movies

Sam: :( both of you hate me

Ponk: I do

Foolish: I am a little bitch about both blood and horror

Ponk: you’re so correct for that Foolish

Sam: I literally watch marvel movies for you

Ponk: cry about it?

Foolish: I would go if Ponk did

Ponk: stop feeling bad for him!

Foolish: it could be fun?

Sam: that’s sweet of you but I’ll just bully boomer into going

Sam: foolish doesn’t hate me though so that’s nice

Ponk: I hope you get a concussion

Sam: and they say romance is dead

Foolish: I wish someone sweet talked me like that

Ponk: I hope both of you get a concussion

Foolish: awe you mean it?

Ponk: no 275

~~~

“At least she likes me.” Sam says in a tone of voice that clearly shows the wild level of discomfort small talk puts him in.

“I’m pretty sure she’s just thrilled that I actually have a friend.” Foolish snorts remembering Puffy’s attempts to talk to Sam and Foolish when Sam came to pick him up fro group.

“It’s an impressive feat. Two whole friends.” Sam snickers arriving at the church.

“Bad really has a thing for nature.” Foolish comments from his view out the passenger seat window where he can clearly see bad and the others, once again, standing on the church’s sad front lawn.

“Dudes a freak.” Sam says.

“You can’t say that about our therapist.” Foolish laughs.

“I can do as I please.” Sam grins parking the truck.

“Come on. Let’s get it over with.” Foolish says opening the passenger side door.

Sam pulls a face but he walks out with Foolish.

“We’re just waiting on Fundy now.” Bad says when Sam and Foolish join their merger group.

“He has been late a lot lately.” Quackity comments from where he is standing abnormally close to Bad, especially considering he practically hated the man.

They linger around for a few minutes and the only thing that Foolish finds abnormal is that Charlie hardly made any attempts at small talk. Strangely without the attempts it feels oddly uncomfortable, or at the very least more than usual.

Eventually Fundy arrived with a hoodie on and his hand stuck in its pockets with a scowl on his face.

“Alright.” Bad says studying Fundy. “Let’s get todays session started. I figured we could smell some flowers today. Flowers are an important part of any ecosystem and they are also little pockets of beauty in everyday life. Smelling flowers can also trigger chemicals like serotonin and dopamine in your brain. So they can both emotionally and scientifically make you happy. Making them a great and beautiful reason to live.”

“Anyways. My name is Bad and I feel energized. One good thing about my week is that I watched a movie with my family. One bad thing about my week is that I need to take my car in for an oil change. And for todays question, for something related, my favorite flowers are roses.” Bad says.

“My name is Fundy and I feel really tired.” Fundy says in a somewhat quiet tone. “One good thing about my week is that I rewatched Treasure planet which was fun. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been feeling very out of it. I don’t really have a favorite flower but there are some peonies on the roof of my apartment building that look nice.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling out of it. Maybe you should consider reaching out to others, making connections is often a great way to feel more grounded.” Bad suggests.

Fundy just shrugs but Bad doesn't press the issue.

“My name is Sam and I feel okay.” Sam starts next. “One good thing about my week is that I finally got my phone screen fixed. One bad thing about my week is that my dad keeps attempting to talk with me. My favorite flowers are probably lilies.”

“Why is it bad that your father wants to talk?” Bad asks.

“Because I don’t.” Sam shrugs.

Before Bad can argue at how stupid Sam’s answer is Foolish starts his introduction. “My name is Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I made spaghetti by myself which is cool. One bad thing about my week is that my arms are sore. My favorite flower are marigolds.” Foolish says.

“Congrats on making spaghetti by yourself.” Bad praises with a smiles.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie says after a minute. “I feel fine. One good thing that happened during my week is that I played a new video game. One bad thing was that I’ve got a headache and it sucks. My favorite flowers are the pink wildflowers near my house. I don’t know their names.”

“Sorry about your headache.” Bad hums. “Alright Quackity what about you?” He asks.

“My name is Quackity and I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that I had a sleepover at a friends house. One bad thing about my week is that my mom has been distant lately. My favorite flowers are blue orchids.” Quackity says.

“I’m glad you’ve been spending time with others. Try not to worry to much about your mother though, I know it’s hard but the adults in your life need to be able to handle themselves and sometimes in unfortunate cases you just have to let them figure it out and do what you can to keep your mental health secure.” Bad says.

Quackity doesn’t say anything to Bad’s advice but he also doesn’t scowl at the man too hard.

“Thankfully for us there are flowers all around so we can get this checked off of the list easily and let group out early for the day.” Bad says after a minute.

They stand there for a bit as a group simply looking at each other, all of them debating if they really want to make themselves look stupid by actually doing what Bad wants them to.

Eventually Charlie simply walks off towards a sad looking flower bed and crouches down to sniff one.

The rest of them do end up sniffing the flowers but Foolish can’t help but feeling a bit, well, foolish.

~~~

“The marvel movies are mindless entertainment.” Ponk says.

“I prefer my entertainment mindful then.” Sam shrugs.

“That makes no fucking sense.” Ponk huffs at the same time that Foolish asks, “What is mindful about slasher films?”

“I mean not like, the scream movies. But the saw franchise has like moral dilemmas and such.” Sam says.

“I’ve only ever liked watching It and that’s just because I think that clown is stupid.” Ponk sniffs eating a fry.

“You fell asleep while watching It.” Sam deadpans and Ponk doesn’t even look the slightest bit sorry about it.

Foolish feels more awake than he has in days under the lights of the diner. The familiar smells of salt and grease paired with the sound staticky juke box music make him feel strangely okay.

The house had been horribly empty since the summer started with Puffy at work and the others at friends houses and such. Foolish has kept busy sure, reading and watching movies and attending football training. But still, Foolish can admit that he is a horribly social person who need to be able to exist around others.

Realistically if he had asked Sam or Ponk both of them would have done something with him or even go to his house to just hang out.

But part of Foolish, the part that has spent his life being told he is to annoying, is afraid that he will simply come across as too much.

So Foolish enjoys as much of these weekly dinners as he can and acts as normal as he can and also ignores how pretty Ponk looks and how freely they laugh.

Ignoring his mildly pathetic crush on one of his first real friends in a while, Foolish has also begun to enjoy going to group if only to hang out around other people without feeling like he has to pretend.

Pretend to be normal, or pretend to be some perfect kid that Puffy totally wouldn’t want to send away.

A foot softly nudges his under the table. Foolish can’t tell whose foot it is because when he looks up both Sam and Ponk are looking at him with worried expressions on their faces.

“What?” Foolish asks feeling a bit put on the spot.

“You spaced out just checking if you’re good.” Sam says and that really doesn’t clarify which one kicked him.

“Yeah just zoned out I guess.” Foolish shrugs playing up his nonchalance.

“Tell me your opinion of a mindful movie then.” Ponk demands pulling Foolish effortlessly back into the conversation.

Idly Foolish wonders if Ponk really has some sort of magnetic pull out him or if Foolish is just a loser.

“Um. Fast and furious?” Foolish says and it sounds crazy even to himself.

“I don’t think it’ll work out between us.” Sam deadpans.

“Fast and Furious?” Ponk asks baffled. “I mean really what even happens in those movies.”

“Fast cars and found family I guess. And crime. I don’t really know why I said that to be honest. I guess it’s the only franchise I could think of.” Foolish snorts.

“I’m sure Bad would love to hear that expiation.” Sam says with a laugh of his own.

“And what would Bad have to say about your thing with horror movies and death?” Ponk counter immediately jumping to Foolish’s defense.

“Touché.” Sam sighs.

“I see only one way to settle thing. A marathon of all three.” Foolish only half jokes.

“That would take like days.” Ponk laughs and despite the fact that Foolish half knew it wouldn’t work, he still feels a bit disappointed.

“Obviously we watch them one at a time spread out.” Sam counters.

“Like one day for fast and furious take a rest the a weekend for marvel.” Ponk nods like it makes perfect sense.

“Then the saw movies.” Sam grins.

“Only while there is daylight.” Foolish cuts in.

“And I’m sleeping next to you after.” Ponk tags on. “So when I get my nightmares and start kicking in my sleep I hit you.”

Sam considers Ponk for a minuet a mock serious expression on his face. “I don’t think it would hurt very much but okay.” He says easily.

“I’m going to dye your hair bright pink.” Ponk threatens.

“I think I could pull it off.” Sam grins.

“Hm.” Foolish says trying to smother his laugh. “I think you need a better threat Ponk.”

“I could always threaten to sabotage his future.” Ponk shrugs.

“Not specific enough.” Sam dismisses.

“You’re both horrible.” Foolish laughs feeling elation bubble up in his chest.

“You are just as horrible as we are, Stupid.” Ponk says with a smile.

“Maybe.” Foolish smiles. “It’s why I get along with you people.”

“Aw.” Sam says mock touched. “You love us.”

“That’s gay.” Foolish jokes avoiding emotional responses in the most tried and true way, joking about it.

Ponk leans forward their dark eyes glinting with mischief and Foolish is absolutely off the deep end enamored.

Chapter Text

Quackity is panicking. It’s not a new emotion for him really, in fact, of all of the emotions he has ever felt panic would have to be one of the most familiar.

And it has reared its familiar head in light of the fact that school is starting soon. School in which Quackity will be alone surrounded by people. Or worse he won’t be.

Worse Quackity will have Karl, and Sapnap, and his carefully built walls around everything about himself will crack.

He can’t let them get close enough to hurt him when they leave. They can’t leave and take what matters of Quackity with them. So to ensure that Quackity has been as distant as he can.

He makes up half lies to explain why he can’t hang out and while he still answers texts he never starts conversations.

Quackity is self isolating and the most pathetic part is that he feels more alone then ever. Quackity spent ages after Schlatt left being alone and somehow this hurts more.

Maybe it’s because Quackity’s stupid dumb heart had gotten a feel of what it could have and it doesn’t want to let go.

Either way Quackity is panicking and he is alone and those two things probably aren’t a good combination. Sure he isn’t spiraling and he won’t break down enough to do something he will regret, even if it’s tempting. But still it’s not a good thing.

Maybe Quackity needed to feel in control again, to push off the uncertainty and anxiety that has taken up root in his chest. Maybe he just needs to feel like a human connected to other humans.

How could he take control in a way that doesn’t leave him dying on cold bathroom tile while watching his mother crack in two like a porcelain doll? It’s not like he can change his style or dye his hair. Well he could but that feels impossible like it’s too much to even consider.

There is a hollow weight in his chest that is threatening to drown him and Quackity wishes just for a moment that he couldn’t still bare to look at Schlatt if only to have a hand to hold onto. Something to keep him above the waves of his anxiety.

Briefly Quackity considers calling Sapnap or Karl if only to hear them talk, to hear them laugh, to hear their concern.

But he can’t no matter how much his selfish heart wants too. If he hold on too tightly when they pry his fingers off it will only hurt worse.

Maybe he needs someone who wouldn’t hurt, someone who he can convince himself he doesn't care about. Someone who would understand Quackity’s need to lash out, to feel human, to take control.

Almost subconsciously Quackity unlocks his phone and scrolls though his contacts. He has to force himself to scroll away from Karl’s contact and Sapnap’s despite how much he wants to open them.

instead of opening their contacts, to reveal silly pictures taken at odd angles, Quackity opens a contact with no photo and just a simple name. Sam.

Quackity can’t explain why he clicks the call button, maybe his self imposed isolation finally got to him, maybe he just wanted to ruin his life on purpose, maybe he just wasn’t fucking thinking.

Sam picks up shockingly quick. “Hey, what’s up?” He asks. In the background of the call Quackity can hear a man’s protests, “you can’t just pick up your phone in the middle of a conversation with your father Sam.”

“Hey.” Quackity mimics. “Bad time?”

“Nah. What do you need?” Sam asks.

Quackity isn’t sure why he asks but he does. “Would you give me a ride to group?” Karl was supposed to after they hung out today but Quackity canceled siting a stomach ache.

“Sure. Text me your address.” Sam doesn’t even question why Quackity would want to spend time with him. Maybe they are all growing.

The man in the background with Sam says something unintelligible. “Should I leave now?” Sam asks seemingly ignoring him.

“Leave whenever.” Quackity shrugs. “You’ll probably be a bit early if you leave now.”

Sam snorts. “I’m leaving now.”

~~~

“So.” Foolish says turning around in the passenger seat to look at Foolish.

“So.” Quackity mimics.

“You don’t like spending time with us. And you’re here.” Foolish says.

The polite thing to do would be argue that but Quackity isn’t a liar so he doesn't lie. “Answer would be too honest for us.” Quackity says.

“You literally know the worst thing I ever did but your thing would be too honest.” Sam says with a tone of judgement.

“I feel like… I don’t know.” Quackity lies. “Like before I guess.”

Foolish hums. “Like you’re gonna attempt again or?”

The blunt wording takes Quackity off guard but the honesty is refreshing.

“Like I could. I mean I won’t but I need to control something you know.”

“Not really but I know what you are saying.” Foolish says.

“You should tell Bad.” Sam says quietly.

“I really don’t want to actually. I’m not going to kill myself anyways.” Quackity shrugs.

“Did something cause it or?” Sam asks and Quackity no longer finds their willingness to be honest refreshing.

“Do you really want to get into my tragic backstory right now?” Quackity attempts to joke.

“I mean we could circle share. Like the kids do.” Foolish jokes.

“Has Tubbo made you do that?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” Foolish snorts. “It’s great family bonding.”

“Don’t push your found family agenda on me.” Quackity snarks.

“I only push gay agendas thank you very much.” Foolish grins.

After the conversation fades out Quackity picks at his jacket sleeve for a minute before cracking. “And old friend of mine showed up. Our history is complicated and he indirectly cause my first attempt so it’s just thrown me for a loop.” Quackity confesses.

“Can we help?” Sam asks and for some reason he sounds like he means it.

“Fix my brain?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly outside of my skills.” Sam says.

“Damn.” Quackity sighs. “I guess not then.”

“I’m here if you need me though.” Foolish adds on. “Sometimes just being with people helps.

“We aren’t friends.” Quackigy points out.

“We can be not friends who help each other if needed.” Foolish says.

“Sounds like a euphemism for friends with benefits.” Sam mumbles and Foolish breaks into laughter.

Quackity’s can’t help but grin. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of a mistake to call Sam. Maybe it really is nice to be around people who understand it, who won’t dance around the topic or pity him.

Because really Sam and Foolish understand what Quackity means. Maybe not exactly, maybe it’s not the same thing at all but it’s the same idea.

They know what Quackity means because one way or another they have meant the same thing themselves.

~~~

Bad is a failure. He is taking them to the home depot. Seriously, who takes a bunch of suicidal teens there? Quackity is like seventy five precent sure he could find something dangerous there.

Or maybe not because they have passed no less then three tired dads only half watching their kids.

Bad had driven them to the god forsaken store that smells so much like freshly cut wood and sweat, and told them there were doing today’s activity, picking the perfect paint color. Afterwards on the ride back to the church they would supposedly do their introductions but Quackity really hopes he can just put his off until the day he dies.

The paint section of Home Depot is actually just a square of desks caving in some employ and two different long displays of just about every color and hue imaginable.

“Is this a bad time to mention I’m colorblind?” Sam asks voice deadpan.

Foolish starts laughing and Bad looks genuinely a bit concerned for a few minutes but he eventually shrugs his worry off.

“Go find a nice color.” Bad instructs them. “Take as long as you like. Sam just, find a color you can see I guess?”

They scatter and Quackity wanders over to where a bunch of different shades of blue are displayed.

Quackity honestly isn’t sure why picking the perfect paint color is on the list much less why Bad would have them do it but he doesn't question it.

He eyes the colors of blue, mostly light sky blue and robins egg before moving towards the darker shades.

Maybe Quackity could paint something he thinks to himself. That would be a change. A change he controls as well.

The thought still bouncing around his head Quackity picks the best looking shade of dark blue aptly named ‘cobalt blue.’

Paint sample in hand Quackity makes his way back over to bad where Fundy and Foolish are already lingering.

After a minute Sam and Charlie join their group.

“Alright what have you got?” Bad asks them.

“Dandelion yellow.” Foolish says showing off a yellow paint sample.

“Colbalt blue.” Quackity says mimicking Foolish’s unbothered demeanor.

Fundy holds up a predictably orange paint sample and says simply. “Tangerine.”

“Green lizard.” Charlie grins waving his own bright green sample.

Sam shows off a more muted green. “Forest green.” He says.

Bad shows off a red sample of his own. “I picked up a nice crimson shade.” He says brightly. “Now let’s get going before they realize we aren’t buying anything.” Bad says in the same bright tone.

~~~

“My name is Bad.” Bad says almost immediately after they all load into the van because god forbid Quackity gets his wish. “I feel refreshed. One good part of my week is that I had a nice mental health day Tuesday. One bad part of my week is that the weather keeps switching up. And well we already did our favorite colors so what are your favorite animals? Mine are dogs.”

“I’m Sam.” Sam says from where he has been banished to the passenger seat. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that my class schedule isn’t that bad. One bad part of my week is that I’ve been disagreeing with my father. I’d also have to say dogs.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your fights with your father.” Bad says.

Charlie goes next because Foolish is all the way in the back whispering with Fundy and Charlie is just nice like that. Though the company he keeps certainly isn’t.

God Quackity’s going to have to pick a new favorite out of the bunch of them.

Sam’s nice enough he supposes. And Sam definitely wouldn’t hang out with Schlatt. He’s been promoted on Quackity’s unofficial list of how tolerable the group of them are.

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been dreading going back to school. My favorite animals are fish.” Charlie says.

“It’s not even that close yet.” Bad says with a disbelieving sort of laugh.

“Yes but school sucks.” Charlie complains.

“I don’t think fish are animals.” Fundy mumbles.

“What else would they be?” Charlie asks.

“Fish.” Foolish says instantly like he really means it too.

Sam can’t even correct him because he’s laughing so hard into his hand.

Quackity goes next. “I’m Quackity I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that it’s almost over. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been isolating.

Bad opens his mouth to say something but Fundy cuts him off. “Your favorite animals are ducks right. They’ve got to be ducks.”

“Why do they have to be ducks?” Quackity asks.

“Because your name is fucking QUACK-ity.” Fundy says.

“Language.” Bad cuts in with a sigh. But before he can say anymore Foolish takes his turn to cut him off.

“My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I’m going to have classes with people I can tolerate.” Sam makes a face and hold a hand to his heart like Foolish’s words have touched him.

“One bad thing about my week,” Foolish continues unbothered by Sam’s theatrics, “is that I haven’t slept well at all. My favorite animals are sharks. Which are actually mammals so they definitely count.”

“They aren’t.” Fundy says. “Mammals that is.”

“My who life has been a lie.” Foolish sighs.

“Anyways. I’m Fundy. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I’m actually excited about school starting. One bad thing is that I’m fighting with Will again. It’s foxes you already know.”

“Of course.” Bad nods eyes still on the road in-front of him.

Quackity lets his eyes close and leans his head against the slightly too warm window. His chest still feels hollow but his heart beat feels more under control.

As strange as it seems to him it’s almost like being around the other members of the group helped distract him even if it was only for a bit.

Moving the paint sample through his fingers Quackity considers taking control of his life in an even more horrific way, letting people in.

Then all of the horrible possibilities make themselves known and Quackity decides to set his sights on something smaller.

Besides the tan paint in his room is chipping.

Chapter Text

Fundy walks into the basement late and soaked from his short walk from the car to the church entrance. Despite the practical heat wave the area had been having it had suddenly started storming. And naturally Fundy was dripping wet because of that.

“Fundy.” Bad greets when he opens the door of the basement. “I hope you aren’t too wet.” He frets.

Fundy shrugs which is a non answer but really Bad has eyes so he should be able to see for himself.

“I suppose we can go ahead and get started then now that Fundy is here.” Bad says. “Today we’ll be sharing some fond memories we have. And because we’ve already done something similar so I was thinking we should relate this to school as I know there have been anxieties piling up with school starting.”

Quackity snorts at Bad’s understatement.

“While high school comes with many struggles and stressors such as peers and grades it can also be a good thing. It can provide learning opportunities, places to make friends, an escape, and a place to make mistakes to learn from.” Bad says ignoring Quackity. “So we can share some fond school memories and we can count that as today’s introduction question. Sounds fair?”

None of them answer and Bad doesn't even blink.

“My name is Bad and I feel a bit worried. One good thing about my week is that school has started for Sapnap which means I’ve got the house to myself some. One bad thing about my week is that I am also worried about school and it’s affects on both my son and many of the kids I work with. A fond memory I have from school is when I realized that I absolutely hated my school counselor because she was useless and decided I would become a therapist to help others in the way she should have.” Bad says.

Fundy is surprised at the hate that Bad speaks with especially considering he didn’t know Bad was capable of hating anything. Fundy gets it though, his consular never did anything for him except suspend a few kids and that only happened after he attempted.

“I’m Fundy.” Fundy starts next surprising himself and the others. “I feel drained. One good thing about my week is that it’s almost over. One bad thing about my week is that it was stressful. A good memory from school was watching Foolish punch that kid.”

Foolish makes a noise while coving his embarrassed face with his hands.

“I’m sorry it’s been stressful but we’ll talk about some stress management tips. As for your memory I can’t say I encourage violence but it’s nice you have a good memory at least.” Bad says suppressing a grin.

“I’m Sam and I feel good.” Sam says next. “One good thing about my week is that this year shouldn’t be too bad class wise. One bad thing about my week is that I lost my headphones. A good school memory I have was when I got some academic award that came with a scholarship.”

“It’s good that you’re being optimistic about this year for a change Sam.” Bad comments.

“my name is Foolish and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I don’t have any homework. One bad thing about my week is that I feel really tired. A good school memory I have is from when I was in elementary school and we had, like, a water gun fight at the end of the school year.” Foolish says.

“I’m sorry you feel tired but hopefully as your body adjusts to the schedule change that will stop. The memory sounds very nice though.” Bad says. “What about you Charlie?”

“My name is Charlie. I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I have lunch with all of my friends so we’ve been hanging out. One bad thing about my week is that my classes seem boring which makes it hard to focus. A good school memory I have is when I aced a really hard math test and me and friends brought desserts into lunch the next day to celebrate.” Charlie says smiling.

“That sounds like a really nice thing for your friends to do.” Bad says. “Hopefully your classes get better as the year goes on but even if they don’t you’ll need to at least try and pay some attention.”

“I’m Quackity.” Quackity says ignoring Bad’s comments to Charlie. “I feel alright. One good thing from my week is that I got a study hall this year. One bad thing is that I got an English teacher that everyone says sucks. A good school memory I have is when I was really little, a kid I knew called another kid a fucker for making fun of me. We were like eight so it was funny.”

“Well I can’t say I approve of the langue but it is very nice they did that for you.” Bad says. “Since we have some free time let’s work on some stress management tips so we can get ahead this school year.”

Bad starts talking and Fundy tunes him out. Sure the tips would probably be useful but they also probably aren’t anything Fundy hasn’t heard before, get a good nights rest, take a walk, take breaks, so on and so forth.

Sure it’s nice that Bad tries but Fundy has never actually used any of these tips. Maybe that’s his problem that he lets his stress fester until it either goes away or he explodes.

Bad says something and Quackity say something back. Someone laughs and Fundy feels so horribly detached from the whole thing that he can’t even pretend to be listening any more. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like Fundy would take Bad’s advice anyways.

~~~

There is a used needle say on the bathroom sink. Light glares off of it taunting Fundy. His mother isn’t even hiding it anymore. For some reason it seems there is a difference, at least to Fundy, between a needle hidden in the trash and one boldly on the sink.

Fundy is frozen in the door way, he should move, leave the bathroom and do something. What he doesn’t know but he knows he should be doing something.

Anger sparks itself in his chest making itself at home next to his anxieties and chest pain.

Turning heel Fundy leaves the cold bathroom and storms though the too small apartment.

Sally is sat in-front of the television half watching an episode of real housewives and half dozing off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Funday asks and his tone is one he had to have learned from Wilbur.

His mother startled a bit blinking at him once then twice. She looks out of it, she probably is.

“Fundy?” She ask. Fundy doenst know if she is asking what he wants or for confirmation it’s him.

“You’re not even hiding it anymore!” Fundy hisses out.

It takes a minute but his mother catches on. “We both knew.” She points out and Fundy wants to scream.

“It’s just a relapse.” Sally continues ignoring Fundy’s visible anger. “They are completely normal and I’m waning myself back into sobriety.”

“You were clean.” Fundy says.

“I’m trying so hard.” Sally argues.

“Not hard enough!” Fundy snaps. “If you were trying we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“It’s a lot of stress.” Sally snaps back finally rising to meet Fundy’s anger. “Raising you, dealing with your attempt, trying to make amends with Wilbur, feeding us both.”

The small child Fundy keeps locked in his chest wants to apologize, to say that he’s sorry for adding weight to his mothers shoulders. Fundy however is not to be blamed for his mother struggles, he didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for any of this.

“So what? You want to keep using? To act they way you used to until I snap like Wilbur did and leave?” Fundy asks. Maybe it’s cruel, using Wilbur against her but Fundy can’t think of a single other way to get his point across.

“I’m trying!” Sally huffs waving her hands wildly. “I swear I’m trying it’s just hard. It’s so fucking hard, you of all people should understand that.”

“Me of all people?” Fundy snaps. “I’m getting help. I’m doing what I should. I’m making a fucking effort.”

“Because you’re being forced too!” Sally says with a humorless laugh. “If you had it your way you’d be rotting.”

Her words sting but Fundy can’t find the spark of anger he was nursing before. Like in one breath she blew it out.

“Go back to AA then.” Fundy says.

“And say what?” Sally asks him. “That I’m using again? That I relapsed? They’ll take you away again. If I’m not sober they’ll take you.”

The words Fundy wants to spit out fail him. “Okay.” He says after a minute of just gaping at his mother.

“Okay.” Sally mimics seeming to relax, apparently she thinks the argument is over.

“I’m leaving.” Fundy says.

“What?” Sally asks confused.

“I’m leaving and you can text me when you’re sober then. Since I add so much to your stress.”

“Fundy you know that isn’t what I meant.” Sally says her face falling.

“I don’t care.” Fundy snaps checking for his phone in his pocket before grabbing his shoes and putting them on.

“It’s pouring down out there you’ll get sick.” Sally says her tone suddenly switching to worried as she follows after him.

Fundy always get horribly anxious when he’s sick, his own anxiety working against him, but even that isn’t enough to stop him now.

“I’ll get sick then.” Fundy says letting their shitty apartment door slam shut behind him.

By the time Fundy makes it to Phil and Kristin’s he is soaking wet and miserable, this is an almost humorous parallel to how he felt just hours earlier.

“Fundy?” Kristin asks when she opens the door after Fundy rings the doorbell.

“Can I come in?” Fundy asks.

Kristin’s moves instantly ushering him in, “of course. God, you’re soaked.”

Fundy numbly follows behind her the guilt of what he did hitting him suddenly and with the force of a bus.

Kristin pauses, “oh, Fundy.” She says sadly. “Do you want a hug?”

Usually the question would feel patronizing and boarder line uncomfortable but now Fundy wants nothing more.

Fundy barely nods before two arms are wrapping around him and Kristin’s hand is holding the back of his head like he may break.

She isn’t really too far off.

The shoulder of Kristin’s shirt has grown wet mostly likely from the tears falling out of Fundy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes though he only half knows what he is apologizing for.

“It’s not your fault.” Kristin’s murmurs. “It’s not your fault at all. You know that don’t you?”

“I don’t think I know anything.” Fundy confesses.

Kristin pulls away a bit and Fundy mourns the loss of positive contact with a parental figure. “You go take your binder off, and put some dry pajamas on, and we’ll watch a movie.” Kristin says. “I’ll make popcorn.”

“I’ve got school tomorrow.” Fundy says.

“We’ll call you in sick.” Kristin dismisses.

“The school isn’t going to like that.”

“Well I don’t like that school.” Kristin smiles finally fully pulling away from their hug.

Fundy does as he is told and changes his clothes, he even takes his binder off though he really wants to keep it on. By the time he gets back downstairs Techno has been shooed away from the TV and knives out is queued up on the television.

Collapsing on the couch Fundy lets every emotion he has had slip away through the metaphorical cracks in his body. He wonders as the movie plays if Bad would be proud of him, if he did something right at all.

At the very least Fundy thinks that Wilbur would be proud of him. The thought isn’t as poisonous as it usually is.

Chapter Text

It’s been one of those days where every little thing seems to be actively working against Sam to make him miserable.

He is being over-dramatic of course but Sam is at the very least aloud to complain about his shitty day if only mentally. It’s not like he’d ever verbalize it anyways.

Sam will be miserable and do it quietly the way he probably should. Or shouldn’t, it’s not like he has finished his therapy to know the right way to deal with things. That’s a lie, if he actually listened to Bad he would probably know how to handle today.

The thought just annoys Sam more than he already is. This is of course saying a lot considering Sam is already pretty annoyed.

He had woken up this morning feeling tired and out of it despite going to bed at eleven which is better than usual. He also had a headache pounding just behind his eye that he just couldn’t get rid of no matter how much Tylenol he took.

Then in an attempt to get rid of the headache by buying a coke from the schools almost ancient vending machine and get a caffeine boost, the machine sucked his dollar into the void. And it spat back out dimes. Dimes! Who in god’s name pays at the vending machine in dimes?

Then Sam spent the morning barely taking in any of the words said by his teachers which means his work is going to be subpar at best and he has more homework than he reasonably should.

And despite the fact that the harassment Sam received for the crime of having green hair and a gender non-conforming best friend, has never been to movie level bullying there have been side comments.

The comments have gotten seemingly worse over the summer. Sam can usually just let it roll of his back knowing fully well high school will be the best years of those people life and his will, probably, get better. But fuck if it hasn’t gotten harder recently.

Sam can tell it’s weighing on Ponk too. They are trying to hide it from Sam, but he can tell in the way she holds herself and the subtle twitch with each word thrown at her.

All of this is to say that Sam’s senior year has been just as miserable as every year before it so far and he is tired.

But like hell is Sam going to admit that. The last thing he needs is to worry anyone in his life that he is feeling anything less than okay because everyone he knows always fears the worst.

Sam is mulling that particular thought over when he takes his and Ponk usal seats in the lunch room. They sit at one of the two semi-empty tables and Sam isn’t sure what scares people off more, how loud they are or how strange they look.

Ponk is still going through the lunch line to get his bland and bad school lunch like some sort of freak so Sam zeroes his focus on a chipped spot on the table and zones out.

The noise of the lunch room jumbles together forming a solid wall that is doing its best to suffocate Sam.

There is movement next to Sam, it’s not Ponk because they sit across from them.

Whoever thinks it’s funny to try and talk to the weird kid with the green hair isn’t going to get the reaction they want.

“Sam?” They ask.

Sam tired and annoyed snaps. “Fucking what?” He hisses out.

“Sorry.” The voice says awkwardly. Sam knows that awkward voice, Sam shouldn’t be snapping at that awkward voice.

“Foolish?” Sam asks making an effort to make his voice sound less harsh.

“Hey. You mind?” Foolish asks gesturing to the table. Sam is only half sure what he is asking so he asks for clarification.

“You’re not sitting with your team.” Sam says gesturing to the vague area where the noise made by the football team is coming from.

“I hate them.” Foolish mumbles laying his head on the cafeteria table. Sam wonders if he knows how gross these tables are.

Sam pats Foolish’s shoulder in solidarity and nods. “Fair enough.”

“So I can sit here?” Foolish asks words still muffled by the table.

“Absolutely!” Ponk says suddenly sitting down. “Actually you can’t leave now.”

“Sam snapped at me.” Foolish snitches finally lifting himself off of the gross table.

“Sam.” Ponk says.

“I literally have done nothing wrong.” Sam argues but the smile on his face is an absolute traitor.

“Mhm.” Ponk says sounding unimpressed.

“How has your day been?” Foolish asks after watching Ponk and Sam hold a staring contest in uncomfortable silence.

“Terrible.” Sam says turning away from their contest to complain.

~~~

Sam’s school day continued to drag on and he had to go back to his dad’s apartment which meant for some strange reason, Sam was looking forward to group.

Sure, every time he leaves his fathers place to go to group they have to argue over how important therapy is and every time the thread of whatever fondness Sam has for his father, frays more, but it’s fine.

Everything is fine and Sam can get through group and goes back to the apartment and go straight to sleep.

If he is asleep he won’t have to deal with his father so it’s a pretty fun life hack. Bad may call it avoidance but Sam simply calls it being smarter than his father.

Unfortunately though when Sam arrives to pick Foolish up, Foolish isn’t outside waiting in his driveway, which means Sam will have to go in and make small talk with his family.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing but Sam only has much social battery and it’s quickly draining.

Sam sucks it up though, he leaves his truck and walks up the drive to knock politely on the door.

Tubbo opens it and stares at Sam in silence for a full uninterrupted minute.

Sam stares back at him and the two hold intense eye contact.

"Sam!" Foolish calls thankfully interrupting whatever is going on.

"Are you ready?" Sam asks thankful for the distraction.

"Yeah." Foolish says to Sam, then to someone deeper in the house, "I’m leaving!"

“Have fun!" Puffy’s voice call back.

Foolish follows Sam out to his truck and gets in without saying anything. After a minute of comfortable silence Foolish speaks up. "What’s up man?"

"Not much." Sam says only half processing his words as they come out.

Foolish frowns out the window. "Don’t do that.”

"Do what?" Sam asks confused.

"Act like I can’t tell." Foolish says.

Sam taps his finger against the steering wheel. "I don’t know." Sam says honestly.

"Okay." Foolish accepts. "You’d tell me if you did?" He asks.

"Yeah," Sam lies, "of course."

~~~

Fundy is already there when they arrive which means Sam and Foolish are the last to show up and their arrival much like, triggering and NPCs dialogue, starts Bad talking.

"Alright we can get started!" Bad says all too cheerfully. "Today we are making shadow puppets against the wall. I know it’s a bit silly but we are more than allowed to do silly things. Anyone who feels the need to judge others has an opinion that frankly doesn't matter. Besides I’ve been using the metaphor of darkness being the bad in our lives lately and shadow puppets relate to that. We’re using light and shaping the darkness that is effecting us."

Bad waves a flashlight around as he talks like someone who is giving a TEDtalk might wave around a laser pointer.

"Let’s start our introductions before we get to doing today’s activity. My name is Bad and I feel happy. One good thing about my week is that the weather has been really nice. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been getting pretty bad allergies. And for today’s question tell me what your favorite insect is. Mine is lady bugs." Bad says.

"I’m Fundy." Fundy mumbles. "I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with Wilbur. One bad thing about my week is that I have not been feeling well. My favorite bugs are millipedes."

"I’m glad you’ve been spending time with your brother but I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. Is it anything in particular?" Bad asks.

"No." Fundy says all to quickly to have been true.

Sam goes next to save them all from awkward silences. "My name is Sam. Im okay. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been hanging out with friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a headache. My favorite bugs are worms."

"I hope you feel better soon." Bad says before nodding at Foolish to do his introduction.

"My name is Foolish. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with friends. One bad thing about my week is that I have a bunch of homework. My favorite bugs are preying mantises." Foolish says.

"Im glad you’ve been spending time with others." Bad says. "Charlie?"

"My name is Charlie," Charlie starts, "and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got a B on a test. One bad thing about my week is that school is draining. My favorite bugs are those spiders with the long legs."

"Congrats on your grade Charlie!" Bad smiles. "I’m very proud."

"I’m Quackity," Quackity says after a minute. "I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I haven’t had much homework. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve already got a test tomorrow. My favorite bugs are beetles, especially the shiny ones."

"I hope you do well on your test." Bad tells Quackity. "Now do any of you know how to make shadow puppets?"

Sam can’t help but give a closed lipped smile at Bad’s words. Who knew he would be so okay doing silly things like making shadow puppets. It’s not something he could every really see himself doing.

~~~

Sam's father is sitting at the too small ikea kitchen table in his apartment when Sam leaves the diner.

Sam doesn't notice him at first, still riding the high of spending time with Ponk and Foolish and genuinely feeling like himself around them.

The joy doesn't last long though after Sam noticed his father who is just sitting there in silence. Sam wonders if someone died. That could be the only possible explanation for how somber he looks.

Sam takes the only empty chair across from his father despite the fact that he wants nothing more than to disappear into the empty room he stays in every other week.

"You don't need to look like spending time with me is the worst thing you can imagine, you know?" Sam's father says.

"Sure." Sam says hoping agreement gets this conversation done with quicker.

"what is your problem with me?" Sam's father snaps. Apparently agreement didn't work.

Sam doesn't say anything to that. What is he supposed to say? That he knows he is being an ass and taking out all of the left over anger from after his attempt on his father but he doesn’t care to stop? That his father is not a father at all and Sam doenst care to pretend like he is?

"I don't have a problem with you." Sam lies instead wanting nothing more than to leave the table.

"You must have got your ability to lie from me." His father says with something just to the left of humor in his voice.

"Why do you think I don't like you?" Sam asks a bit annoyed.

"It's obvious. You haven't felt anything positive for me in years."

"Why still try?" Sam asks.

"Because I want to try for you." His father says and Sam knows suddenly that he must have gotten his ability to lie from his father because they are both horrible at it.

Chapter Text

“I am not about to complain about my family dynamic to the guy in foster care.” Sam says from where he is sprawled out on Foolish’s floor. Really it’s the floor of the bedroom Foolish stays in at Puffy’s house but that isn’t too important.

“Wow.” Foolish drawls out learning over his bed to send Sam a judgmental look. Or that was his intention but instead he just ends up starting at Sam, looking at him, taking him in.

Sam’s hair is messy and longer than Foolish has ever seen it, the silver Star of David necklace that is usually tucked safely under the neck of his tee-shirt is instead resting on his chest, and his lip has been bitten to all hell.

“Harsh truths are still truths.” Sam says interrupting Foolish’s staring.

“What do you know of the truth?” Foolish shoots back with a grin.

Something flickers across Sam’s face but it’s gone before Foolish can identify it.

Sam doesn’t shoot back with the usual banter or joke so Foolish expertly changes the topic. “I like your necklace.”

“My grandmother is visiting my mom. She likes if I wear it.” Sam dismisses a bit.

Foolish knows of a fact Sam wears it daily, usually he can see the glint of the silver chain under the neckline of Sam’s shirt. Maybe that is too weird of a thing for a normal person to notice.

“Is that why you’re over here so early?” Not that I mind.” Foolish asks.

“Somewhat. It’s complicated.” Sam says.

“When is it not?” Foolish agrees though he really is only half sure what exactly he is agreeing too.

They settle in silence for a bit and Foolish debates if he should break it. What is weirder, Foolish thinks, sitting in your room with the door closed in silence with a guy or trying to make small talk about your days?

God, Foolish doesn’t even want to know what Puffy would assume if she was home, despite Foolish’s insistence she still doesn’t believe he and Sam are just friends. Thankfully she isn’t home though.

She hasn’t been at home a lot lately, to be fair none of them have with school starting and other after school activities. Still it’s strange, usually if a foster parent was going out of their way to avoid Foolish the way Puffy is he would panic, instead he isn’t worried about it.

It’s almost like he knows she isn’t secretly plotting to get rid of him, key word there of course being ‘almost’. Foolish learned a long time ago to never get too comfortable or sure of himself.

“What do you think Ponk is doing right now?” Foolish asks in an attempt to distract himself with a happier topic.

“Fighting their way through AP biology homework because they took it like a lunatic.” Sam suggests.

“A bold claim from the guy taking AP chemistry.” Foolish says with a laughs.

“An equally bold claim,” Sam counters, “from the guy also taking AP chemistry.”

“You’ve got me there.” Foolish laughs.

“Of course I do.” Sam says and while Foolish is no longer looking at him, instead staring up at the ceiling, he can hear the smile in his voice.

“Speaking of you.” Sam continues. “What has been up with you lately?”

A petty part of Foolish wants to shoot back with ‘what has been up with you that you aren’t telling me’ that would be unhelpful though so he doenst.

“I don’t know. The house has been empty lately, trouble with the Football team, adjusting to being back in school, take your pick.” Foolish says.

“Has the team been giving you trouble?” Sam asks and this time Foolish can hear his frown.

“No more than usual.” It’s only a half lie. The team from the most part treats Foolish as normal, works with him during drills, includes him in jokes, and compliments him on good plays. However recently it seems like Foolsih had noticed more and more sinde comments on people he considers friends, Sam, Ponk, Fundy, Quackity, it grated on him but there was nothing he could do short of telling them to shut up and creating more trouble for everyone.

Foolish become even more aware of what he can and can not say around the team, like the other day when Mikey asked Foolish if his bracelet was a gift from his girlfriend. Foolish’s instinct has been to say no it’s from Ponk and it looks amazing, because it did. But he couldn’t say that because god only knows what kind of rant that would start and God only knows what Foolish would do in response. He ended up just awkwardly laughing the whole thing off.

“How much is usual?” Sam asks tone curious but not pressing.

“I don’t know. A bearable amount.” Foolish tries.

Sam must be able to see through him because he simply says. “Glad you’re sitting with us at lunch then.”

At a loss for anything else to say Foolish responds in kind, “Yeah me too.”

They sit and exist like that for lounger than they probably should. Foolish knows if he doesn’t move soon they will be late for group because despite everything Sam is the most careful driver he has ever met and part of Foolish wonders if that’s a new thing or if it has always been that way.

He doesn’t want to move though. In fact the last thing Foolish wants in the entire world is to break this little bubble of comfort he has made with Sam. He doesn’t want to go out and face the harsh cold world when he can be soft and warm in here.

So Foolish doesn’t move and to be fair Sam doesn’t either, it seems instead that they are both content to simply exist in one another’s space rather than fight through the discomfort of existing surrounded by everyone else, even if those in group only half counted as ‘others’ any more.

This, Foolish thinks, is what friendship feels like.

~~~~

Much like Foolish guessed they would be, he and Sam are late to group. Bad doesn’t seemed phased by it though, probably too used to the rest of their lateness to care.

“Glad you two made it.” Bad says. “Today we’re doing a simpler prompt: ‘you matter.’ So we’ll do our introductions and I want each of you to add on one person whose life you think would be negatively changed if you weren’t here. I don’t believe we should live for others or that you should see this as some sort of guilting exercise but I do think it’s important to know you have a support system and there is always at least one person on earth who is there for you.”

Bad lets his words settle over them like a weight before moving on to do his introduction. “My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that the weather has been cooling down after how hot it has been lately. One bad thing about my week is that I haven’t seen my family a lot with how much I have been working. I can say pretty confidently that Sapnap’s life would have been much different without me.” Bad says.

Foolish believed him too, Sapnap, Bad’s adopted son, would definitely have had a different life without his dad.

“My name is Fundy.” Fundy starts next. “And I feel okay….” He trails off a bit seemingly thinking. “One good thing about my week is that I don’t have any homework. One bad thing about my week is that I’m still not talking with my mom. I think Wilbur’s life would be different without me, not sure if it would be worse though.”

Bad frowns at Fundy’s words. “I’m sure without his brother Wilbur wouldn’t better off, he loves you. Why aren’t you talking with your mom though?” He asks.

“We got in a fight.” Fundy says trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “It’s just a small thing though.”

Sensing Fundy’s discomfort Sam jumps in. “My name is Sam. I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I bought a new Lego set. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been stressed. I think at least at a base level my moms life would be a bit different I guess.”

“I’d say it be much different if something happened to you.” Bad says. “Don’t attempt to down play your importance however small in the lives of others.

And Foolish knows this makes Sam uncomfortable from the way he tenses beside Foolish, so Foolish cuts in. “I’m Foolish. I feel tired. One good thing about my week is that I feel pretty good about my test tomorrow. One bad thing is that I have a test tomorrow at all.” Foolish pauses after that.

He doenst really know if anyone’s life has been effected by his existence. Sure the foster parents he stayed with had an extra mouth to feed, but that isn’t really what Bad is talking about. Bad is talking about people who have been changed by simply knowing you and Foolish doubts he has done that to anyone.

The silence must stretch on too long because Sam nudges Foolish’s leg with his own. ‘Me.’ Sam mouths which is sweet but Foolish doubts how true it is.

To save himself from floundering further however Foolish say, “Sam apparently.” It’s supposed to be a joke but Foolish can tell it falls flat.

“I’d say you’ve effected many people Foolish. Sam is just one of them.” Bad smiles at Foolish.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie says after a second or two. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that my parents are away on a trip for their anniversary so the house is quiet. One bad thing about my week is that I had a lot of tests. I think my friends lives are different since they know me.”

“I’d imagine the lives your friends have would be very different without you.” Bad says. “What about you Quackity.”

“I’m Quackity. I feel alright, I guess. One good thing about my week is that it’s almost over. One bad thing about my week is that I had a panic attack over some schoolwork.” Quackity says the last part quickly, like if he says it fast enough Bad will ignore it. “I think Schlatt’s life would have been different.” Quackity adds on his tone biting.

Foolish can see Charlie pale and begin to fidget a bit but he has no clue what brought it on.

“I’m sorry to hear your anxiety is flaring up so bad again. We’ll have to discuss this some more one on one.” Bad says. “But the rest of you are free to leave early.”

Quackity looks a bit annoyed at this but Foolish doesn’t stick around long enough to hear him complain.

~~~

“You know,” Ponk says, “we don’t have to eat here all the time.”

“We’ve had this discussion before.” Sam points out. “One of us says that, we all agree, then nothing changes.”

“We should make some changes.” Ponk says.

“This is very sitcom of us.” Foolish agrees.

Ponk laughs at his words and Foolish feels pretty damn proud of himself.

“At least it’s not a bar, we’d look like alcoholics.” Ponk tacks on.

“So if everyone on Cheers and alcoholic then?” Sam says catching into Ponk’s train of thought with ease.

“I mean going to a bar everyday.” Foolish says. “It’s a bit bad looking.”

“I mean how much in fiction time was there between episodes?” Ponk asks. “Because it might not have been every day.”

“Just most.” Sam offers.

“I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt.” Foolish argues.

“It’s very sweet of you.” Ponk nods while reaching over the table to pat Foolish on the shoulder.

“They are fictional.” Sam points out much less sympathetic to Foolish’s plight.

“Okay. But how are we any better than fictional alcoholics?” Foolish asks.

“Easy. Not at a bar.” Sam says.

“Oh you just have an answer for everything.” Ponk jokes.

“Absolutely.” Sam says not missing a beat.

“What are the lottery numbers?” Ponk asks.

“Like in general?” Foolish asks with a snort.

Sam on the other had just starts listing off random numbers which makes Ponk laugh so hard she starts coughing even though it isn’t that funny.

Watching the two of them grin at each other like idiots Foolish comes to a horrifying conclusion about himself, he may just be a little bit in love with his two best friends.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The table is out today, Charlie has to resist the urge to sigh about whatever it is Bad had planned.

Everyone else is already seated around the table by the time that Charlie takes the only remaining empty seat. It seems that whatever reasons that was making Fundy late has been smoothed over. Or maybe not smoothed over so much as resolved.

Speaking of things that Charlie wants resolved, Quackity only spares Charlie the briefest glance to glare at him.

It hurts more than a bit because Charlie had, in a somewhat silly manner, grown to believe that they were friends. Maybe not the group as a whole but at the very least him and Quackity. Quackity would talk to him even if he didn’t talk to anyone else and he genuinely seemed to listen to Charlie’s fun facts and laugh at his jokes.

They were friends or some very close approximation and it hurts that Quackity seems to be doing his best to ice him out.

Bad is either oblivious of the tension between Quackity and Charlie, and honestly probably the completely different kind of tension between Foolish and Sam, because he just starts the group session like nothing is wrong.

“Alright, we can get started. We’re going to talk about reasons why we our proud of ourselves and the others.” Bad announces.

“What if I’m not proud of them?” Fundy asks.

Bad lets them stew in silence as if to punish them for Fundy’s question. “Well you’ll figure out some reason to be proud then.”

“Let’s start our introductions.” Bad says ignoring their judgment both directed at him and Fundy who is clearly going through it. And honestly it’s not even like he is lashing out, they say worse shit to each other all the time

“My name is Bad and I feel a bit hungry. One good thing about my week is that I ended up playing a few rounds of cards with my family. One bad thing about my week is that one of my older clients sadly passed away. For today’s question a reason why I am proud of myself is, I am making a difference no matter how small and accomplishing my dream of helping people.” Bad says.

Charlie wonders if they all have to be that honest, because frankly Charlie isn’t proud of anything he has done lately. What is there to be proud of? His just alright grades? His strained relationship with his parents? The fact that most people find him too annoying to bear being around?

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Sam tells Bad politely.

“Thank you Sam, why don’t you start your introduction?” Bad prompts.

“That is what you get for being nice.” Quackity’s says with a grin.

Sam not so subtly flips him off.

“Language Sam.” Bad scolds.

“I didn’t say anything.” Sam argues.

“Just start your introduction.” Bad says with a sigh.

“My name is Sam.” Sam starts. “I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have any tests. One bad thing about my week is that I either lost or had my Spanish notes stolen. I’d say I’m pretty proud of how well I do academically.”

“You can’t put all of your importance on something like grades.” Bad advises Sam. “But its good you can acknowledge that you are deserving of praise for all the work you put into maintaining your grade.”

Clearly some of this is being referenced from one on one sessions but Sam nods his head anyways. “I wouldn’t say deserving of praise but sure.”

“I would.” Bad argues back simply. “Foolish?”

Foolish who was watching Sam and Bad like a reality television show snaps to attention. “My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I totally aced my history test. One bad thing is that we lost our last football game and couch has been riding our asses about working as a team better. I’m proud of how well I have been adjusting lately.” Foolish says.

“I’m sorry that your coach has been putting unwanted pressure on you but I would have to agree that you have been adjusting to your recent life changes very well.” Bad says.

“You should quit Football.” Fundy suggests.

“Or punch more of the team.” Quackity offers with a sharp grin.

“It was a lapse in judgment!” Foolish attempts to defend himself. “I’m a pacifist!”

“They had it coming. Still do.” Sam chimes in.

“Alright let’s redirect the conversation back to our introductions, I can’t allow you to discuss harming others.” Bad says.

“Can’t allow.” Charlie mimics. “You said nothing about condoning our conversation.”

“I’ve noticed that in some instances it can be helpful for my patients to discuss ideals that they may not act on of harming their abusers, but I am a bit worried one of you will act on it, so back on track.” Bad says.

“Only Foolish.” Sam says with a closed lipped smile that doesn’t leave his face even as he ducks under Foolish’s attempt to hit his shoulder.

“I can’t remember what the conversation was.” Fundy laughs.

“Why Foolish should quit Football.” Charlie says.

“Your introduction.” Bad says and though he isn’t smiling his eyes are full of mirth.

“Well, my name is Fundy and I feel okay.” Fundy starts. “One good thing about my week is that I’ve had practically no homework. One bad thing about my week is that it’s shark week and that sucks. I’m proud of how I’ve been handing things and removing myself from overwhelming situations.”

“I’m proud of you for that as well.” Bad tells Fundy. “It’s always important to remember that you don’t have to force yourself through situations that affect you negatively and to know that you can and sometimes should remove yourself temporarily.”

“What is shark week?” Foolish asks confused.

“I’m assuming he doesn’t mean the thing that the discovery channel does.” Quackity remarks dryly.

“I do actually.” Fundy deadpans. “There are sharks swimming around my house.”

“A true nightmare.” Quackity agrees.

“I don’t know. I’d kinda like a pet shark.” Foolish says thoughtfully.

“You would.” Sam sighs.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Foolish asks him.

“You do give off shark kid energy.” Charlie agrees.

“Shark boy. Like the movie.” Quackity says and Charlie can’t help be surprised that Quackity acknowledged him or what he said at all.

“That’s a really good movie.” Foolish argues.

“For it’s time sure.” Fundy agrees.

“I don’t need to hear your slander.” Foolish says with a grin. “Charlie and Quackity don’t you have introductions to do?”

Quackity takes his turn to not so subtly flip Foolish off. Before Bad can scold him however Charlie starts his introduction. “My name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I’ve yet to get sick despite the fact that everyone seems to be. One bad thing about my week is that I got a C on my math test. I’m proud of how hard over been trying on my schoolwork this year.”

“I’m very proud of that as well. I know it was hard for you last year.” Bad says sympathetically. Charlie doesn’t really want his sympathy but he takes it.

“My name is Quackity and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I haven’t been feeling too bad. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got a cold. I’m proud of how smart I’ve been.” Quackity says.

“That is always a good thing to be proud of.” Bad laughs “I hope the cold goes away soon though.”

“It’s because he has a cold heart.” Sam suggests.

“You’re going to be very warm in hell.” Quackity tells Sam mock politely.

“Language.” Bad says and he sounds just as tired of saying it as they are of hearing it. “Let’s move onto the next part of todays session. I’d like you guys to go around a share one thing you are proud of about the person to your left. Please try and be genuine about it.”

“You know it’s sad he has to say that.” Foolish says.

“You are at least one fifth of the problem.” Charlie laughs.

“Guys.” Bad says attempting to steer them back on track.

“Right.” Foolish says.

“Thanks for volunteering to go.” Fundy tells Foolish with a grin.

Foolish opens and closes his mouth like he wants to argue but he seemingly can’t seem to figure out what argument he could make.

“Okay well. Fundy,” Foolish starts turning to look at Fundy. Fundy blinks at him. “I’m proud of how much calmer you’ve seemed these last two weeks compared to lately.”

Fundy blinks again like he is surprised they noticed his strange behavior, and is even more surprised they are glad it changed.

Bad just smiles like this is exactly how he planned on this going. Charlie can’t imagine he planned on them being honest about it because that is so unlike them but he doesn't say anything.

“Okay. Well.” Fundy says after a minute looking a bit touched by Foolish’s kind words. “Charlie I’m proud of how nice you are to others and how it’s obvious you’ve been trying to get better and that you’re just trying in general.”

Charlie isn’t sure what to say to that. He had struggled so hard to find one thing about himself that is worthy of praise and Fundy just lists things off like they are facts. No one argues with him or laughs like it’s some joke that Charlie couldn’t possibly understand.

The kindness takes a tangible weight in his chest which is more confusing than the nice words, because why would he feel this weight when being told he deserves praise? That he has done well?

Unwilling to linger alone with his thoughts any longer Charlie turns and attempts to meet Quackity’s eyes.

Quackity doesn’t meet his eyes of course but Charlie isn’t surprised. “Quackity I’m proud of how well you seem to be adjusting and that you’ve been just living a life most people would want to.” Charlie says.

Something passes over Quackity’s face and Charlie can’t put a name to it before it vanishes but he knows it was there and it gives him hope for something.

“Sam.” Quackity says before anyone could analyze his emotions too much. “I’m proud of how much more you seem to be letting yourself do and feel.” Quackity’s says.

Sam laughs, “wow. Honesty hour huh?” He asks rhetorically.

Charlie can’t help but agree, past their bantering they barely talk with one another in a friendly manner. They aren’t friends yet here they are accurately pointing out flaws and accomplishments about one another with an accuracy that you would only gain from drawing your target using a mirror.

“Foolish.” Sam says. “I’m proud of how far you’ve come and the fact that you still try after everything.”

“Wow.” Foolish says. “That’s unfair.”

“Cry about it.” Sam suggests.

“I just might.” Foolish laughs.

“See. Didn’t if feel nice to acknowledge what you see both in yourself and in others. As well as hearing what others find respectable in you.” Bad says.

“Bad.” Quackity says after a minute in the most serious tone Charlie has heard him use in a while

“Yes.” Bad asks seemingly confused by Quackity’s tone.

“You have to tell me right now if you ghost wrote that stupid fucking article.” Quackity demands.

Charlie can’t help himself when he starts to laugh. Because while the idea is a bit strange Charlie would fully believe it if Bad said he wrote that article and posted it.

“Langue Quackity and no I didn’t not write the article. Honestly I wouldn’t know about it if you hadn’t brought it to my attention.” Bad says.

“You were supposed to laugh it off like a normal person.” Quackity huffs sinking down in his seat.

“The funny this is,” Charlie says, “I’m not sure if I believe you.” This is of course directed at Bad who simply shrugs.

Quackity meets his eyes, and even if it is accidental, he smiles and Charlie. It’s not quite forgiveness but it may be something to the left of understanding.

Chapter Text

The towns public library is like much of the town itself, small, empty, and decrepit.

On a Thursday after school it is particularly empty, not that Quackity has ever seen it with more than ten people, including workers, milling about.

Quackity blames it in part on their lack of good books to check out. The YA section is the smallest in the building and most of the adult books are just poorly written smut.

The lack of computers is also probably to blame. And if Karl is to believed the lack of any queer books. While Quackity has never checked it wouldn’t surprise him.

The one thing the poorly funded library had going for it though is the study rooms, three sound proofed rooms with swivel chairs around a long table, each room is also privy to the library’s free Wi-Fi.

Currently Quackity finds himself locked in one of those rooms watching Karl spin himself in small circles and Sapnap doodle on the edge of his notebook.

Really despite Quackity best efforts he couldn’t avoid the people who had against their better interest’s decided to befriend him. Especially not considering they share their third, seventh, and lunch period.

Their shared third period is what brought them to the library in the first place. Third period advanced placement United States government should be illegal for its crimes against humanity, and Quackity specifically.

Seriously who gives them a hundred point quiz this early on in the school year, Quackity’s teacher that is who. The man is an old war vet who takes a particular pride in the number of students who drop his classes each year.

Quackity, after hearing the first off color comment the man made, was determined not to drop his class, and furthermore to fucking excel at it. Honestly he could care less about the government but he will stick it to this old man.

Karl for his part couldn’t drop it because his parents were worried he would waste his potential in any other class. Sapnap though had agreed to stay just because they had, Quackity makes a point not to look too far into that or how it makes him feel.

“If everyone in the class fails the school would have to look into it, right?” Karl asks pausing his spinning.

“In theory.” Sapnap says. “But how would you get everyone to fail? Can you even fail a multiple choice test on purpose?”

“Only if you know all the right answers.” Quackity says not bothering to look up from his textbook, seriously a physical text book, it just goes to show how old fashioned their teacher is.”

“Fuck.” Karl says.

“Well even on the ones you don’t know you have a seventy five percent chance of failure.” Sapnap points out.

“I like those odds.” Karl grins.

“Even if we all fail the school will just investigate and they may write it off as us not trying enough, the chances it actually gets to the school board who would run their own investigation to determine if he should be fired, are small.” Quackity says finally looking up from the words he keeps reading over and over again.

“Bullshit.” Sapnap huffs out laying his head on the table.

“School is a corrupt system to churn out people who follow orders and not people who think.” Karl says staring up at the ceiling while a resumes his spinning. “We should revolt.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Sapnap says his voice muffled by the table.

“I am going to pass this fucking class and this old guy can suck it.” Quackity says like he can put it out into the universe and make it true.

“Is that a motivation they teach you in therapy?” Sapnap asks.

“Your dad can also suck it.” Quackity tells Sapnap.

“Why do you hate my dad?” Sapnap asks.

“It’s literally just the principle of it.” Quackity shrugs attempting to refocus on his textbook.

“Yeah Sapnap it’s just the principal.” Karl agrees. “Oh I’m dizzy.” He doesn’t stop spinning even as he says this.

“You literally love my dad. He bakes for you.” Sapnap says.

“Stop spinning if you’re dizzy idiot.” Quackity’s says not looking up.

Karl drag his feet agianst the carpeted floor to stop himself from spinning and though Quackity isn’t looking at him he can feel the smile Karl throws his way.

Quackity’s stomach does something weird and he can feel his palms begin to sweat like he is having a panic attack. Forcing himself not to fall into whatever is making him panic, Quackity forces all three of them forward.

“Get back to studying or we won’t do this again because you guys are distracting me.” Quackity says.

“No.” Karl says with a dramatic whine. Then more seriously, “did you expect us to actually help you study?”

“No.” Quackity says honestly. “But a man can dream.”

“Not you though.” Sapnap cuts in throwing Quackity a grin. “You are stuck here in reality with us.”

“Ew.” Quackity deadpans lifting his eyes up to meet Sapnap’s.

The eye contact between Sapnap’s warm ones and Quackity’s dark ones lasts a minute before Quackity has to break and look away before his heart pound out of his chest.

“You love us.” Karl cuts in.

“I am actively praying on your downfall.” Quackity tells him.

“Out of love.” Karl smiles.

“Out of hate.” Quackity argues.

“You hate how much you love us.”

“I thought we ever supposed to be studying.” Sapnap says. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Yes we are.” Quackity agrees. “So let’s get to work.

“Sir yes sir.” Karl says completed with sarcasm dripping through his tone and a mock salute.

“Don’t bring your kinks into my study group.” Quackity fires back.

“Ew. Ew. No. Gross. Disgusting. Shut up.” Karl groans.

“That was a one shot.” Sapnap snickers.

“Don’t think this gets you out of studying too.” Quackity says Turing to point an accusing finger at Sapnap.

“I wasn’t aware this was a dictatorship.”

“Well,” Quackity grins, “now you are.”

“The power has gone to his head.” Karl giggles.

“The only way to save him from himself is to kill him.” Sapnap agrees sagely balling up a post-it note and chucking it a Quackitys head.

“Hey!”

It’s safe to say that very little studying gets done but a post-it note war does end in heartbreak and betrayal and honestly it’s not really that different.

~~~

The others are already in the basement when Quackity gets there.

“Pet cemetery is where you draw the line?” Quackity hears Foolish ask as he takes his seat.

“It’s sad.” Sam argues.

“You told me you enjoyed slasher-films.” Foolish points out.

“Not with animals.” Sam frowns. “That’s the whole point of does-the-dog-die. So I personally know that a dog does not die.”

“This is such a weird line for you to draw.” Foolish snorts.

“I love does-the-dog-die.” Quackity adds “it’s the only reaon I willingly watch most movies sa- people, people drag me to.”

Bad ignores Quackity embarrassing slip up and instead adds his own input, “that website can be very helpful for avoiding triggers in media.”

They fall into silence like Bad actually turning their conversation into something related ruined it.

Charlie shifts beside him and for the first time Quackity notices how far away he is. He can’t say it upsets him because he has been avoiding Charlie like the plague because it’s one of the many protective measures Quackity has to take to avoid Schlatt.

Schlatt has been hanging around Ted, a kid who Quackity has no strong opinions on because he is so normal it is weird, and Charlie.

They make a strange and loud trio and some bitter jealous part of Quackity hates how happy the three of them look when he sees them in his chemistry class.

To counter out the only two people he knows being lab partners already Quackity had let himself get paired up with Hannah and Tina. The two girls were nice and included Quackity easily in conversation though he often felt like a third wheel.

“Alright guys. Today we’re going to talk about how unique each of us are and how important it is to remember that there is only one of us. Often we can get caught up in comparing ourselves to others but everyone is unique and there is only one of each of us on earth.” Bad says.

“So my name is Bad and I feel happy. One good thing about my week is how much sunshine there has been. One bad thing about my week is how poorly I have been sleeping. And for todays question one, positive, thing that makes me unique is that in my youth I competed in knife throwing competitions.”

This is what every serial killer documentary sounds like Quackity thinks to himself. He doesn’t say anything out loud though, thankfully Fundy does that for him.

“I’m Fundy. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I’ve been doing pretty good in my classes so far. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been staying up late and regretting it. I’d say my ability to speak Dutch while being a trans red head is pretty unique.” Fundy says.

Quackity can’t hide his snicker but Bad doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m glad you’ve been doing well in school and your knowledge of dutch is very unique and I’d imagine helpful on occasion.” Bad says.

“I’m Sam.” Sam says next. “I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I don’t have homework this week. One bad thing about my week is that work has been very busy. I’d say my genuine enjoyment of math is pretty unique.”

“Pretty strange.” Charlie corrects.

“It’s definitely unique.” Bad agrees with a laugh. “It’s a good thing though. What about you Foolish.”

“Well, my name is Foolish and I feel a bit sore. One bad thing about my week is that I got hit pretty hard on my shoulder by some other guy’s shoulder at the game last Friday and it is bruised like hell. One good thing about my week is that I finished a new book. One unique thing about me is my in depth understanding of both Egyptian mythology and sharks.”

“Language.” Bad says. “Those are two things that I’m sure many other people don’t know nearly as much about. Sorry about your shoulder though.”

“You would be hard pressed to find two more different things.” Fundy points out and Foolish just shrugs in response.

“My name is Charlie.” Charlie says after a minute. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I bought a new record. One bad thing about my week is that my aunts are visiting and bringing my very annoying little cousins. One unique thing about me is my glasses lenses are -6.00”

“That is definitely unique.” Bad says. “Try to look on the bright side about your family staying over.”

“I make no promises.” Charlie shrugs.

“There are definitely more unique things about you.” Quackity says and even he isn’t sure if it’s an insult or a compliment. Maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe it really fucking does.

“My name is Quackity.” Quackity says to start his own introduction. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got a study group together for a hard test. One bad thing about my week is that I hate my AP government teacher.”

“Absolutely understandable.” Foolish cuts in. “That old man sucks.”

“Please continue Quackity.” Bad prompts.

“Okay uh, one unique thing about me is that I can play guitar and the one I leaned to play on was my great grandfathers though it’s too old and out of tune to play anymore.”

“That is very interesting!” Bad says. “Definitely a great bonding experience for you to hold with your family.”

Quackity doesn’t say anything because at some point it became hard to argue with Bad’s annoying positivity. That isn’t to say Quackity agrees with him because he doesn’t but he also has no clue how he is supposed to refute him.

Chapter Text

Fundy is tired. It’s some strange result of the constant pressing anxiety and the pressure of school.

It just leaves him drained and without the energy he needs to do the simplest of things, like get up off of the floor and go to group.

Or shower.

Or talk to Wilbur. That one is probably the most pressing, though the feeling of his greasy hair is staring to bother him.

Fundy’s brother has never, in his entire life, understood the definition of letting something go.

He just need to know the reason for everything, and sure, it’s a good trait to have when Wilbur is figuring out how trains work or what vaccines do, but it’s less good when he is bothering Fundy.

Because that is what it is really, bothering him. Wilbur just keeps fucking bothering him.

And Fundy gets it. He does! If his brother showed up out of the blue soaking wet and miserable he would want to know what is going on as well. But the thing is, Fundy has been more than clear and out his lack of desire to tell Wilbur anything.

Because he can’t lie to Wilbur, Wilbur knows him well enough to see through whatever paper thin lie Fundy could some up with anyways. But he can’t tell the truth either.

Because telling Wilbur the truth, about their mothers relapse, about the effect it has on Fundy and Sally and their relationship? Well that would just give Wilbur one more reason to hate their mother.

It’s not like he needs anymore reasons. Wilbur grew up with a thousand and never met any of them go. He clings to the hate because it’s easier than disappointment or understanding.

Fundy feels the same way more often than not, just one more fucked up way he is like his older brother. Because he is angry with Wilbur and the world and everyone around him, even though he should be understanding and empathetic.

It’s just hard. Everything feels so hard now.

Everyone always talked about how high school was supposed to be the best years of your life but so far alway Fundy has felt is sad, angry, and miserable.

Maybe it’s just Fundy. Maybe Fundy is a miserable person. Is that possible? To be born miserable?

It probably is, in the same way Wilbur was born angry, Fundy must have been born miserable.

It’s not like staying with Phil and Kristin has been too bad, other than doing all he can to avoid Wilbur and his questions.

Techno and Fundy have a mutual understanding, they both tend to ignore each other and when forced to exist in the same space they feel no need to fill the silence with strained small talk.

Tommy, while obnoxious in the way all young children are, is easy to please and more understanding than anyone his age ever should be. He knows why Fundy is staying there and he doesn’t care past annoying Fudnybinto playing Minecraft with him after Techno and Wilbur tell him to fuck off.

Phil and Kristin are nice. That’s all Fundy really has to say about them. Staying with them is more akin to staying with a distant aunt or uncle, you know them rationally and you know you should feel something for them, but you don’t. So you’re just left in this strange awkward politeness.

It’s all just strange and tense and Fundy can’t help but feel like he is walking on a tightrope. One lean to far to the left or right and he’ll suddenly be forced into a free fall.

Maybe Fundy had been in free fall for a while and simply gotten used to the weightlessness, maybe the problem is now that he can finally see the ground.

Footsteps pause outside the door and Fundy knows it’s Wilbur. He knows what his brothers steps sound like quiet sneaking into the apartment kitchen for snacks when their parents pass out. He knows what Wilbur steps sound like angry fuming from some argument with Phil. And most importantly Fundy knows what Wilbur’s steps sound like as he pauses in front of the door to Fundy’s room and debates coming in to press for answers he won’t get yet again.

Fundy wants to scream but he doesn’t want anyone to come see why he is screaming. He just wants to let the tightness in his chest out.

Bzzzz

Fundy’s phone vibrates harshly on his nightstand and the noise must be audible from outside because Fundy can hear Wilbur’s steps retreat.

Grateful from Wilbur disappearance, Fundy decides to actually check whatever text he was sent, and maybe if he is feeling adventurous, answer it.

Quackity: totally random but like what happens if we just dony go to group

Foolish: dony

Quackity: kill your self!

Sam: I’m court ordered so probably a call to my case worker

Foolish: a social worker call for me

Quackity: okay but the rest of us can just not go right. Like what is bad going to to???

Charlie: Throw a knife at us.

Quackity: killing me is the opposite of his job actually.

Fundy can’t help but roll his eyes at the Quackity’s antics. Quackity’s hate of group is well known and honestly pretty relatable. Mustering up the energy Fundy types a response.

Fundy: I don’t think we can just not go. At least without a guardian calling Bad to let him know.

Quackity: fuck

Charlie: I mean. I’m pretty sure me and Quackity could. Like, we have the least legal repercussions

Foolish: way to brag guys.

Sam: I genuinely can’t imagine why you guys would just go for fun.

Charlie: My parents.

Quackity: literally nothing about group is fun.

Fundy: wow Quackity! Can’t believe you aren’t excited for today.

Charlie: I can almost feel the sarcasm

Quackity: you can feel?

Charlie: Ha ha dick. I’m telling Bad you didn’t want to go today.

Quackity: you better not snitch.

Charlie: I don’t know. It’s not like you could stop me.

Fundy can’t help but snort shutting his phone off and attempting to gather the energy to get up and go to group just to see Quackity and Charlie bicker in person. At least it makes group entertaining.

~~~

It’s cold outside, the start of fall pushing the once pleasant weather away. Of course Fundy has always been prone to growing cold easier than anyone else he has ever met so maybe, just maybe, he is a bit biased.

Either way Fundy thinks it is way too cold for Bad to force them to stand outside for group.

Bad of course doesn’t care at all what Fundy thinks.

It’s proven by the man’s unfairly chipper grin as they all form a loose semi circle in the dying grass of the church lawn.

“Let’s get started. I spent my prep time today raking some of the leaves into piles for us today.” Bad says.

“I am sixteen whole years old.” Quackity says just incase Bad didn’t know that.

“And at sixteen whole years old you’re going to be jumping into a leaf piles today.” Bad says not missing a beat or bothered by their lack of enthusiasm.

A breeze blows through their group and Fundy poorly suppresses a shiver, “can we get this moving?” He can’t help but ask.

“Of course.” Bad agrees. “While I’m sure you all know that finding joy in small and childish things is good for you I also think there is something particularly beautiful about fall itself. The brigh color of the leaves and what they can represent.”

“Trees not getting enough sunlight?” Foolish asks confused.

“Dead things?” Charlie asks equally confused.

“The trees aren’t dead though.” Bad saying looking for all purposes like a man who finally after years got asked the right question. “The trees are still alive, despite not being given what they need, the trees are still alive. They simply shed their leaves. I think it’s an important lesson in both letting things go when you have to and learning to live without the things you let go.”

Fundy wants to argue that his life is nothing like trees or leaves at all actually but that would probably only encourage Bad and his metaphors.

“We can start our introductions though,” Bad says, “my name is Bad and I feel happy. One good thing about my week is that I finished a lovely book by a colleague. One bad thing about my week is that leaves have been getting in the gutter and they are always a pain to get out. And for todays question, what is your favorite fall activity? Mine would definitely be apple picking with my family.”

“My name is Fundy.” Fundy cuts in quickly desperate to get this over with, “I feel cold. One good thing about my week is that played some video games. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been stressed. I like carving pumpkins.”

“What has been causing your stress?” Bad asks.

“School work mainly. It’s been hard this year.” Fundy says honestly.

After a minute Sam finally speaks. “My name is Sam and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that it is almost over. One bad thing about my week is that my bedroom window refuses to close and it’s letting bugs in. I like watching scary movies.”

“Sorry about your window Sam.” Bad says. “What about you, Foolish?”

“My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I felt like I did really good on my math test today. One bad thing about my week is that I forgot my phone at Puffy’s house yesterday so I didn’t have it at school. I guess I like fall foods? Like apple pies and stuff.” Foolish says.

“You kids and your phones.” Bad says with a laugh. “I’m glad you feel good about your test though.”

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine.” Charlie says after the silence lingers for too long. “One good thing about my week is that I got to hang out with my friends. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been really stressed. I like doing corn mazes in the fall.”

“I’m glad you’re spending time with your friends. Try not to stress too much.” Bad says. “I know it’s hard though.”

“It definitely is.” Charlie says with a laugh that could only be fake.

“Quackity?” Bad prompts after a minute.

“I’m Quackity. I feel like I have a headache. One good thing about my week is that I aced my government test so the old man can suck my dick.” Quackity says with a grin.

“Language.” Bad cuts in.

“Anyways,” Quackity continues on unbothered, “one bad thing about my week is that I had a fuck ton of test. I like making apple pie in the fall honestly.”

“That is a nice thing to do in the fall.” Bad says ignoring Quackity’s continued swearing. “Now why don’t you guys go do your activity for today?”

Technically they all know Bad isn’t really asking them so much as he is telling but none of them make any move to follow his orders. Fundy has no interest in frolicking like a little kid in leaf piles.

Hell Fundy had no interest in it as a kid, technically he couldn’t have done it in the first place while living in a shitty concrete apartment complex, but still.

“The sooner you do this the sooner it’s over.” Bad says after a minute because he knows them all well enough to know that above all else they just want to leave.

“What if we just don’t do it though?” Charlie asks sounding genuinely curious.

“Please.” Bad says tiredly. “Just do it.”

“You’re going to make our therapist need a therapist.” Foolish cuts in.

“I have a therapist.” Bad says reasonably.

“Is it just an endless chain of therapists for therapists?” Fundy asks. “Like Russian nesting dolls?”

“I doubt it.” Sam says. “Because you’d run out of either people or therapists.”

Charlie seemingly either wants to leave or has grown bored of their conversation because he walks off and lets himself fall backwards into the leaf pile.

Quackity frowns and walks over, probably to make fun of Charlie because that is who Quackity is as a person, and Charlie grabs his ankle and pull him right down into the leaf pile.

Quackity’s loud complaints are drowned out by everyone else’s laughter and Fundy no longer feels so bad about letting himself fall into the pile of leaves and limbs if only to trap Quackity’s further.

Taking enjoyment in pissing off your friends is still taking enjoyment in something after all.

Chapter Text

“Do you think there is a god?”

Sam can’t do this right now, what exactly this is? He has no fucking clue anymore.

Really if Sam could go back in time and just not turn the wheel he definitely would, literally all it has brought is misery.

“Okay Quackity.” Fundy says, which in Sam’s opinion is definitely a cop-out answer but also entirely fair.

“I’m just saying no truly good god would let this happen.” Quackity continues gesturing broadly to the entire church basement around them. Again fair.

“I just want to know why he would give us knifes.” Foolish says learning down a bit behind Sam to whisper in his ear.

Sam has thoughts, probably, none of them are exactly intelligent though so he shoves them nearly into the box labeled ‘no’ where he keeps things like good memories with his dad and that one quote he read four years ago that sometimes makes him uncomfortably upset when he remembers it.

“I mean, would we kill ourselves in front of each other and just traumatize ourselves and everyone else more?” Sam argues.

Foolish hums but doesn’t answer past taking his seat at the table which has been set up with a few small pumpkins and knives.

Technically Sam is pretty sure they are those fancy pumpkin carving tools but for all purposes they are in fact knives.

“So we’re carving pumpkins.” Fundy says taking his own seat and addressing his observation at Bad.

“Yes! That’s our activity today. It’s a fun simple way to both celebrate Halloween and let purge some stress on by both creating art and cutting something.” Bad says.

“I thought you couldn’t condone violence?” Charlie asks.

“Not against real people.” Bad says like the effect is any different.

“Let’s get started with our introductions. My name is Bad and I feel great. One good thing about my week is that I decorated the house for Halloween. One bad thing about my week is that our microwave has been acting up so we may have to replace it. And for todays question, do you guys like pumpkin spice flavored things? I personally have no opinion on it.” Bad says.

Fundy who was pointedly not staring at the sharp carving tools quickly rushes into his own introduction. “My name is Fundy and I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I helped Kristin make some cookies. One bad thing about my week is that chemistry is hard. I like pumpkin spice honestly.”

“It seems like you have been spending a lot of time at Phil and Kristin’s house?” Bad observes his tone questioning.

“No.” Fundy denies in a way that is definitely suspicious.

Bad opens his mouth and Sam decides to cut in and spare Fundy. “My name is Sam and I feel pretty good. One good thing about my week is that I went to dinner with some friends on Saturday. One bad thing about my week is that I have a load of homework to do. I’m not a fan of pumpkin spice.”

“Right.” Bad says seemingly aware of why exactly Sam cut him off. “Well, did you go out to lunch before going to homecoming? Was that this week?”

“It was. I didn’t go though.” Sam says simply. Secretly he had been rather thankful that Ponk hadn’t cared much about homecoming. Sam was not in the mood to stand in the sweltering hot school gym and pretend like he was having a good time.

“What about you Foolish?” Bad asks.

“My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that we won the homecoming game because coach was threatening us with suicides if we lost.”

Someone’s snickers and Bad rolls his eyes.

“One bad thing about my week,” Foolish continues, “is that I’m super tired and think I have a cold. I don’t really care either way about pumpkin spice.”

“Well congrats on winning your game.” Bad says. “Charlie?”

“My name is Charlie.” Charlie says. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I got B’s on a bunch of my tests. One bad thing about my week is that my parents are more worried about the one C I got. I like pumpkin spice despite the fact that it is miss named.”

“It is miss named?” Bad asks confused.

“Well it’s actually the seasoning used on pumpkin products and it doesn’t taste like pumpkin or have any pumpkin in it.” Charlie says.

“My name is Quackity.” Quackity says after taking in Charlie’s pumpkin spice fun fact for the appropriate amount of time. “I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I did go to homecoming with my friends and I had a bit of fun I guess. One bad thing about my week is that I’m tired. I don’t like pumpkin spice.”

“I’m glad you had some fun Quackity.” Bad says and he sounds like he means it. “Now let’s take, say, forty minutes and carve these pumpkins and then you guys are free to go.”

None of them seem to care about pretending that this isn’t the most fun thing Bad has had them do in weeks because they all reach and grab pumpkins and carving tools without much more prompting.

Sam opts to go with the classic pumpkin face, triangle eyes, and a semi-circle grin with a few rectangular teeth.

It’s easy and once Sam properly guts the pumpkin, which is gross and slimy, he breezed through the whole stabbing it repeatedly thing.

After the timer Bad set for the forty minutes he was holding them there goes off, Charlie turns to face the rest of them, “what did you guys make?” He asks.

“I don’t think I did very well.” Fundy says, his own pumpkin still facing him so Sam can’t see it.

“How can you mess up pumpkin carving?” Quackity asks, baffled.

“Kill a guy with the knife.” Sam says easily.

“Don’t carve anything out.” Foolish counters.

“I don’t know.” Fundy cries.

“Okay well now you have to show us.” Charlie says.

Fundy turns his pumpkin around and Sam gets to see his very small very lopsided pumpkin carving. The face is two small circles and a D shaped grin, it’s a strange mix of cute and disappointing.

“I like it.” Foolish cuts in before any of them can say anything too rude.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Quackity offers.

“Oh my god.” Fundy says covering his face. “It’s so bad that Quackity is being nice to me.”

“Fuck you and your pumpkin.” Quackity snaps.

“Langue.” Bad chimes.

Charlie turns his own pumpkin around and it is very clearly his best attempt at a Dracula face. With a semi-circle smile with two triangles still on the top as well as two slanted eyes in what Sam can only assume to be an attempt at a glare.

“What the fuck.” Fundy laughs.

“You’re one to judge!” Charlie snarks but he is laughing too.

“I don’t think I want to show mine now.” Sam says with a laugh.

Foolish who has no shame turns both his and Sam’s around.

“Dick.” Sam says and he doesn’t really mean it.

Foolish’s pumpkin looks almost like the jaws poster with a cut out ocean around a shark under some waves. It is just prof at how unfair it is that Foolish is good at seemingly everything, funny, and nice.

“Kill your self.” Quackity’s tells Foolish.

“I can’t believe you would say that to me.” Sam cuts in despite the fact that Quackity clearly isn’t talking to him.

“Yes you can.” Fundy says.

“Yes I can.” Sam agrees.

Charlie reached over to turn Quackity’s pumpkin around after Quackity makes no move to do it himself.

Quackity carved what is clearly a silhouette of a cartoon ghost out of his pumpkin and honestly he didn’t to half bad at it.

“Alright Bad.” Fundy says. “I need to see yours before I leave.”

“Mine isn’t nearly as fun as what you guys made.” Bad says turning his pumpkin around with a smile.

Bad’s pumpkin is carved around the silhouette of a cat, it is clear what it is and has shockingly clean lines.

“Of course you’re good at this.” Quackity’s says with a huff.

“It involves knives.” Charlie says.

“Have a great day you guys.” Bad tells them in what is a clear dismissal as he begins to pick up the mess they made.

~~~

“This is hell.” Ponk says leaning dramatically against Sam’s side.

“You wouldn’t go to hell.” Foolish says.

“You don’t know that.” Ponk points out.

“Focus.” Sam sighs.

The diner table infront of them is spread out with various college lists and post-it notes with pros and cons next to each college. The pros and cons are written, in what Sam is told to be, three different colors in an attempt to figure out what college would be best for who.

For the most part all of their college applications have been sent out, though it took a bit for Foolish to even consider sending out the applications to be worth while. The point of their lists is to attempt to figure out which schools they want acceptances from.

Just looking at it is making Sam feel somewhat nauseous and shaky but knowing things ahead of time makes Ponk feel more comfortable so they’re doing it.

“I don’t see why it matters.” Foolish says with a huff while sticking and unsticking a post-it from the table.

“Because it’s our future.” Sam says like the idea isn’t horrifying and something he never let himself entertain before.

Foolish opens his mouth but Sam cuts him off. “It’s your future too and you might as well try to make it a good one.”

Sam isn’t sure he fully believes his own words but Foolish, thankfully accepts them.

“I just wish there was a good school for all three of us.” Ponk says.

“No giving up on better offers when there are FaceTimes and calls.” Sam says firmly. “We take the best offer at the best school for our future.”

“With the best scholarship.” Foolish adds.

“Exactly.” Sam agrees and Ponk sighs again.

“This looks fun.” The waitress who usually works on Thursday evening, and has long since grown used to their presence, says.

“It’s something.” Foolish says.

“What can I get you guys?” She asks with a laugh.

They relay their orders and she disappears agian.

“Really this one has the best medical degree of the ones I can probably afford and get into.” Ponk says pointing at their local state college. True to their words the local state college is in fact known for its medical programs.

Following Ponk lead Sam point at two different colleges. One in state and one a few hours out, “These both have good computer science programs.” Sam says.

“With your GPA you could definitely get into either.” Ponk says.

“I’d say any one of these.” Foolish says tapping a few of the school names. One of which is the local college, one is a smaller school in state and the third one is out of state.

The three of them stare at the mess on their table in silence.

“This is horrifying.” Ponk says.

“I don’t really want to worry about this right now.” Foolish agrees. “At least not until acceptance letters come in.”

“So we won’t.” Ponk agrees shoving their mess of paper into an equally messy pile. “All that matters right now is enjoying senior year.”

“What Disney channel original movie did you steal that line from?” Sam asks with a grin.

“Fuck you.” Ponk says with an eye roll. “We need to have some fun.”

Something like guilt settles it’s familiar weight on Sam’s shoulders. “We will. It will be a better year this year.”

Foolish grins and once again Sam can only hope he believes the lies Sam is telling.

“It will be.” Foolish agrees.

“It better be.” Ponk says and it’s almost a challenge to the world around them.

Sam can only hope, for all of their sakes, that they are right. They have probably earned a break anyways.

Chapter Text

Foolish leans his head against the cool glass of Sam’s truck window.

Sam’s crappy stereo, the one that only gets a handful of radio stations, mostly static, and has had a CD stuck in the CD player probably since Sam got the car, is playing static with the occasional lyric in it.

It’s calming in a strange way. Or it would be if Foolish wasn’t so totally fucked.

Foolish has spent the past few weeks in a constant state of crisis over the level of sheer pathetic stupidity he has managed.

Really it’s bad enough to be stupidly, head-over-heels, in love with one of your best friends. But both of them? New, unheard of levels of stupidity.

Really Foolish deserves a medal. For being the dumbest person on earth. He has two friends and somehow he is embarrassingly in love with both of them.

It’s only something he could ever manage.

“What did the trees ever do to you?” Sam asks his gaze still firmly straight ahead.

“Nothing.” Foolish sighs.

“What’s up?”

Great question Sam, if only Foolish could tell you the truth; ‘I’m in love with you that is what’ surely that would go over like a lead balloon.

“Do you like guys?” Foolish asks because he seriously must hate himself.

“What?” Sam asks appropriately confused by the sudden change in topic.

“I don’t know.” Foolish groans letting his head fall back against the headrest. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“You should tell Bad.” Sam advises.

“I should get over myself.” Foolish groans.

“I happen to like yourself.” Sam says easily because to him it is that easy. He can just say things like that, like it doesn’t make Foolish’s heart beat faster and his cheeks warm.

He needs to get a grip.

“That makes one.”

“At least two. Probably three because Puffy seems fond of you.”

“Stop correcting my complaining, I am attempting to wallow in my self pity.” Foolish huffs a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Wallow on your own time.”

“This isn’t my time?”

“Nah.” Sam smiles pulling into the church parking lot.

“The drive goes by way to fast.” Foolish complains.

“It’s because we dread the destination too much.” Sam points out.

“Can anyone blame us?” Foolish asks as Sam parks the truck.

“Absolutely not. Group is the worst ever.” Sam snorts.

“You are so correct.” Foolish grins as they both exit the truck ready to head towards their mutual suffering.

They make their way into the building, walking close enough together that their shoulders brush and while Foolish is relationally aware it means nothing his stupid heart keeps skipping beats.

The table is out and Foolish takes his seat without meeting anyone’s eyes, part of him is afraid that if they look at him they will see right through him.

Foolish apparently had no reason to fear because Bad is sorting through something on his clipboard and Fundy and Charlie are enraptured in some conversation they are having across the table.

When Quackity arrives a few minutes later their conversation tappers off and Bad draws all of their attention.

“Hello everyone. Today we are going to be writing notes to ourselves in a year. I know this is something each of you have probably done before but I think it’s important to have the ability to reflect on where you have started and how you have grown and adapted to your lives.” Bad says.

Foolish probably wrote a few letters to his future self in middle and elementary school, but being in foster care, none of them ever got sent back to him. The thought makes him strangely sad. These letters probably won’t either.

“Anyways, we can get started. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I had Tuesday off. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve been absolutely swamped with work today. And for todays question, I enjoy writing.”

“My name is Fundy and I feel better. One bad thing about my week is that I was pretty sick. One good thing about my week is that I am not sick anymore. I don’t really care for writing.” Fundy says.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better Fundy.” Bad says with a nod.

“My name is Sam.” Sam says next from beside Foolish. “I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I’m hanging out with some friends on Friday. One bad thing about my week is that I need to re-dye my roots. I’m not a fan of writing.”

Foolish feels his gaze forced to Sam at the mention of his roots, which are true to Sam’s words breaking out a dark hue against his green hair. Unfairly Foolish can only think about how nice he looks.

“I’m glad you’re spending time with your friends this week.” Bad acknowledges. “What about you Foolish?”

“I’m Foolish. I feel….” Like a mess? Bad? Conflicted? “Fine. One good thing about my week is that I read the new Percy Jackson book. One bad thing about my week is that I ate grass, literally, at practice yesterday. I like writing.” Foolish says.

“You feel fine?” Bad prompts seemingly tired of their non-answers.

“Yup.” Foolish says with an awkward grin.

“My name is Charlie.” Charlie cuts in because he is a saint. “I feel fine. One good part of my week is that I got my flu vaccine. One part part of my week is that I got my flu vaccine and I hate needles. I love writing.”

“Well,” Bad starts ignoring how Charlie had cut into their conversation. “It’s always good to get vaccinated to avoid spreading or getting diseases. What have you done this week Quackity?”

“My name is Quackity and I feel alright. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have a lot of tests. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve fallen into a rabbit whole of binge watching bad tv. I enjoy writing, I guess.”

“I’m glad your week hasn’t been too bad Quackity.” Bad says with a smile. “Now, here is some paper and pencils and what I want you guys to do it take the rest of our time today and simply write a letter to your future self.

The others grab their pencils, most of them don’t start writing right away but Foolish definitely spends too long just staring at the blank white sheet of paper in-front of him.

It’s surprisingly hard to figure out what he is supposed to say. It isn’t like it matters really, no one but Bad will ever see it and Foolish probably won’t even get the letter back. But he still feels like he should try.

It’s strange, how recently Foolish has felt the need to at the very least humor Bad. Maybe it’s the silly hope that actually following along with Bad’s little activities will somehow fix him.

‘Dear.’ Foolish writes down to start because that is how you write a letter.

After a minute of just staring he continues. ‘me, this is a letter to my future self. Which would be you, or me. Both are technically true.’

Foolish is definitely getting off topic. Maybe he could just ramble his way through the letter while totally making up the entire thing.

No, no he’s supposed to be trying. At the very least he can try and make the letter make sense.

‘In the future I hope I feel better, or at least more stable. Hopefully college worked out and I actually got in. Hopefully I have somewhere to stay over breaks though I doubt I will.’

It’s grim but honest. Foolish has gotten lied to enough in his life, he doesn’t need to lie to himself as well.

‘I hope we’re happy and loved, at the very least by some friends. I hope you’ve figure out what to do with your life and how to feel normal about it. Hopefully you’re still close with those you care about and you are living safely.’

Foolish racks his brain for another few minutes for anything else he can write.

‘Get over your embarrassing crushes and make more friends. Signed Foolish dated 10/12/20xx.’

It’s not exactly a very long or well written letter but it is enough that it’s obvious Foolish followed what was asked of him and did his best.

Honestly isn’t that all Bad can ask of him?

~~~

Foolish honestly thinks it’s a small mercy Sam and Ponk haven’t caught on to how big of a crush he has on the two of them. Especially with how stupid he acts around them.

Or maybe they both know and are too polite to say anything, that is a downright terrifying thought.

Maybe the both know and think he is super weird but won’t say anything.

God Foolish hopes they don’t know. He can’t stand to lose the only two people who can stand him most days all because he can’t control his stupid heart.

“I thought senior year was supposed to be like the easiest year?” Ponk groans leaning dramatically against Sam who is unbothered.

“I mean… compare it to the rest of high school.” Foolish suggests. “My senior year is definitely better.”

“You’re right but it is upsetting that you’re right.” Sam says with a grin.

“You don’t like it when I’m right about things?”

“I hate it.” Sam deadpans. “I constantly want you to be wrong about everything all the time.

“Wow. I can’t believe you. Why would you do this to me.” Foolish laughs.

“I’m actually only friends with you for the sole purpose of ruing your life by slowly sabotaging everything you do.” Sam says.

“Stop.” Ponk interrupts. “Stop doing your weird flirting in-front of me.”

Foolish’s heart skips a beat and his thoughts begin to race as he panics over the fact that the two of them know about his crushes. They know and they hate him for it. Foolish doesn’t want to even hear Sam’s reaction to Ponk’s joke.

“What are you jealous?” Sam asks not even missing a beat and successfully interrupting Foolish’s panic spiral.

Ponk doesn’t even blink. “Extremely. How are you going to flirt in front of me when you know how that makes me feel.”

“How does it make you feel?” Foolish asks because apparently he hates himself.

“Jealous.” Ponk deadpans.

Foolish can’t help the laugh that comes out. “Right,” he agrees, “I should have known.”

“You really should have.” Ponk agrees. “Come on Foolish.”

“Because obviously jealousy is the only emotion to feel when your friends flirt.” Sam says with an eyebrow raise.

“I mean how would you feel if I started hitting on Foolish in front of you?” Ponk asks.

“I’d feel a bit embarrassed because we are in a public space.” Foolish cuts in.

“Unbothered.” Sam counters.

“You would be bothered.” Ponk argues.

“It wouldn’t bother you at all?” Foolish asks caving to the insanity that is his life.

“Give it five minutes and just statistically speaking one of you will either stop or turn your attention to me.” Sam shrugs.

Ponk throws her wadded up straw wrapper at Sam with an eye roll. “Way to ruin our fun.”

“I’m just being honest.” Sam shrugs.

“I mean. Isn’t that good?” Foolish can’t help but ask. “It means we’ve got a healthy dynamic right?”

“I suppose that is a positive way to think about it.” Ponk agrees.

“You agree with him but not me?” Sam asks Ponk.

“I like Foolish better.” Ponk shrugs.

“Ignore what I said about our dynamic then.” Foolish laughs.

“Woe is me.” Sam complains before switching his focus to Foolish. “You pity me don’t you?” He asks.

“I feel like there is no winning no matter what answer I give.” Foolish says honestly.

“There isn’t but I’d like to imagine that is part of our charm.” Sam says.

“You two are something. I wouldn’t say charming but definitely something.” Foolish laughs.

“Hey!” Ponk protests. “You’re part of this too. It’s us three.”

“Yeah.” Foolish agrees. “I suppose it is.”

If only it was the three of them in the way Foolish’s stupid heart wants.

Chapter Text

Here is the thing about guilt, you learn to live with it. At least in Charlie’s experience.

At first it is this all encompassing weight that never goes away and then slowly it fades, only showing up when you see the subject of your guilt, then suddenly only when you remember you should feel guilt.

It’s hard to remember to feel guilty for spending time with Schlatt when Charlie doesn’t even really know why he should feel guilty.

He knows the abstract facts of Schlatt and Quackity being friends, and Schlatt involvement in things he should not have been involved in, and Schlatt’s disappearance. But Charlie doenst know why Schlatt makes Quackity so angry.

Or maybe not angry, maybe Quackity is hurt. In Charlie’s personal experience he knows the line between hurt and anger is thin.

But even with this strange guilt and maybe hurt maybe anger, Charlie can’t find it in himself to ignore Schlatt. Maybe it’s selfish, scratch that it is definitely selfish but Schlatt is someone to talk with. Someone who understands therapy and anger. Someone who has a car and wants to get away from his home the same amount Charlie does, which is an impressive feat in itself.

That doesn’t mean Charlie doesn’t feel bad about it. Especially when he can feel the heat of Quackity glare on his back. Charlie is pretty sure Quackity isn’t even glaring at him, it may just be the radiation from his glare at Schlatt.

Chemistry is the only time it’s really a problem, being the only class Charlie shares with both Schlatt and Quackity. But it is definitely a problem then.

To make it worse their lab spaces cozy up against one another like their teacher could sense the tension and just wanted some excitement in her boring school day. Excitement gained from Charlie’s suffering. It definitely seems plausible.

“You’re adding too much iodine.” Hannah says pulling Charlie out of his melodrama.

The statement of course isn’t directed at him but instead to Tina who huffs out a breath and shoots a little mock glare at her friend.

“You didn’t want to do it. Now you complain I’m not doing it right.” Tina laughs.

“Because you aren’t.” Hannah grins.

“Here.” Quackity’s cuts in, holding out his hands in an offer to take the task from Tina.

“Stop staring at the girls.” Ted says way to fucking loud.

“Shut up man.” Charlie says flushing in embarrassment. He definitely wasn’t staring in the way Ted made it sound but now everyone will think he was. Charlie wants the tile of the chemistry room to come alive and swallow him whole.

“Both of you shut up.” Schlatt snarks focused entirely on mixing their mixture correctly.

“I’m not the one in the wrong here.” Charlie complains.

“Don’t care. Didn’t ask.”

“Go fuck yourself man.” Charlie huffs leaning over the lab table and doing his best to melt into its surface.

Something brushes his shoulder and Charlie moves thinking it is one of the girls trying to grab something past him.

Charlie turns his head and his hypothesis is proven wrong, it’s Quackity brushing shoulders with him as he reaches for whatever it is that he needs.

“Sorry.” Charlie says moving further away.

“Don’t be a dick.” Tina chides taking the beaker Quackity hands her.

“I’m being perfectly sociable.” Quackity says like a liar.

Schlatt is pointedly looking anywhere that isn’t Quackity. It makes the whole atmosphere feel somehow more tense.

“I don’t think there is a sociable bone in your body.” Tina hums ignoring Quackity offended look.

“There are plenty of bones my body and at least a fourth are sociable.” Quackity argues.

“The human body has 206 to 213 so a fourth of that would be 51 and a half to 53 and a fourth. Which means that’s how sociable you are compared to the average human bone count.” Charlie says.

Tina squints at Charlie for a minute before nodding. “What he said.” She agreed.

“Can we get back on track?” Hannah asks cutting in.

“Please.” Quackity huffs.

“If you did that sort of magic in your math classes you’d get A’s no sweat.” Ted tells Charlie.

“I can’t believe you would bring up the thing I’m sensitive about.” Charlie says mock hurt. “Besides algebra two is way harder than basic division.”

“I’m in pre calc and I can’t do shit with factions.” Hannah chimes in.

“Who can?” Schlatt agrees.

Quackity sets the graduated cylinder in his hand down with a bit more force than is necessary.

Schlatt lets a harsh breath out through his nose.

In a really fucked up way it feels like watching Charlie’s parents fight. They never outright yell, that would ruin their whole perfect family thing, but they take harsh tones and passive aggressive comments to their arguments.

“I think you did that wrong.” Hannah says after a minute thankfully breaking the horribly tense silence.

However in breaking the silence Hannah has pointed out something rather horrifying, their own beaker is a totally different color than it should be and somehow it’s smoking.

“Fuck.” Schlatt hisses out.

“Watching your language.” Their chemistry teacher snaps making her way over to presumably scold Schlatt, Charlie, and Ted for somehow fucking up this bad.

“Where is he supposed to watch it go?” Quackity mumbles. Apparently his hatred of Schlatt is cancelled out by Quackity’s never ending need to snark at every adult he’s ever met.

Schlatt snorts so hard he starts coughing.

“Something to say?” Their teacher asks.

Hannah, Tina, and Quackity, make themselves look very busy in recoding the exact shade of their mixture.

Schlatt could be honest. Charlie knows he won’t be though. “No ma’am.” Schlatt grins, it’s roughish and crooked and out of the corner of his eye Charlie can see Quackity trace the shape of it.

Charlie can’t help but think if only Quackity could admit to himself that he missed his friend he could have Schlatt back.

The two definitely miss each other, but both of them are too stupid and blind to do anything about it, and Charlie is stuck in the middle like some messed up tug of war rope.

~~~~

Bad has moved their meeting time back for whatever today’s activity is. Which means by the time they all arrive at the church and gather around Bad like a cult it’s almost dark out.

It’s dreary. Charlie hates when it starts getting dark earlier.

Fundy is silently protesting how dark, late, and cold it is, by seemingly attempting to cook himself to death under way too may layers of sweatshirts and an unzipped coat. Charlie gets it, he’s a bit chilly, but Fundy is definitely taking it to a strange extreme.

On the other side of that particular spectrum however Foolish is simply wearing a sweater and basketball shorts. It reminds Charlie starkly that despite how cool and normal Foolish seems, he willingly plays football.

The rest of them are dressed more sanely in a mix of sweaters, sweatshirts, jeans, and sweatpants.

“You guys look thrilled to be here.” Bad says because they all look like they’ve been dragged here. To be fair none of them want to be here.

“It’s too late and cold.” Fundy complains.

“I’ll agree that it’s a weird time but it’s chilly at best.” Sam says eyeing Fundy with concern.

“We’re meeting at a different time today because of the activity we’re doing.” Bad explains with a grin.

Charlie watches as Quackity looks up as if asking some god he doesn't believe in why this is happing to him. Charlie knows exactly why this is happing and also knows that this is definitely at least partially Quackity fault, but because he is a nice person he doesn't mention that. He definitely thinks it though.

“Today we’re taking a late night walk outside. I wanted to avoid making it too late so I figured it would be perfect to wait until one of our last nice days of the year while it gets dark earlier.”

“I can guess why this is beneficial.” Foolish deadpans.

“We all can.” Quackity says with a small grin.

“Well, obviously,” Foolish starts adding in some hand movement for flair, “getting outside is good for us and it increase’s serotonin.”

“It also reminds us of nature and life’s beauty.” Charlie tacks on.

“And being in the dark is a metaphor.” Sam agrees.

“A metaphor for hating yourself.” Fundy says with a sage nod.

Bad looks somewhat annoyed at how unserious they all take this but his appreciation at them all willingly interacting and being nice to each other wins out and he doesn’t say anything.

“Since you all know what I’m going to say I don’t see why we can’t start with our walk and our introduction.” Bad says. “My name is Bad and I feel happy. One good thing about my week is that we went out and bought some pumpkins to carve. One bad thing about my week is that Skeppy’s mother has been having some trouble and we’ve been pitching in. As for today’s question, what’s your favorite outside activity? Mine is gardening.”

“My name is Fundy and I feel cold. One good thing about my week is that I’ve got my homework done. One bad thing about my week is that it’s so cold. I guess I like walking.”

“Sorry the cold is bothering you Fundy, I’ll try and make it quick.” Bad says.

“My name is Sam. I feel okay. One good thing about my week is that I redyed my roots finally. One bad thing about my week is that it’s been raining a lot so I’m stuck inside. I like hiking.” Sam says next.

“I’m glad you’re feeling okay Sam.” Bad says. “What about you Foolish?”

“My name is Foolish and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that it’s our last game before the football season ends. That is also my bad thing about my week because I’ve got mixed feeling about football. I like going on runs outside.” Foolish says further proving how strange he is.

“Well, it’s okay to have mixed feelings on things. You don’t have to put your feelings into neat little boxes. Feeling are messy.” Bad says.

“I’m Charlie.” Charlie says next feeling a bit out of place to follow up Bad’s heartfelt advice. “I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I went and saw a movie with my sister. One bad thing about my week is that I definitely flunked my chemistry lab today. I like biking.”

“I’m glad you’ve been spending time with your sister. I’m sorry to hear about your lab though.” Bad tell him before Turing to look expectedly at Quackity who is waking slightly behind Charlie.

“I’m Quackity.” Quackity says. “I feel a bit cold as well honestly. One good part of my week is that I didn’t fail my chemistry lab. One bad thing about my week is that I’ve got an anxiety disorder and it is anxiety disorder-ing. I like skateboarding.”

“You guys distracted us.” Charlie argues slowing his pace to bump shoulders with Quackity.

Quackity surprisingly doesn’t try and bite his face of either literally or metaphorically, instead he just grins.

“Excuses excuses.” Quackity sing songs. “It sounds to me like you guys just suck at chemistry.”

“Chemistry is fucking stupid.” Fundy agrees.

“Language.”

“I agree that chemistry classes are the strangest things.” Foolish nods.

“You literally took advanced placement chemistry.” Sam points.

“Freak.” Fundy who was walking beside Foolish comments.

“I like chemistry!” Foolish defends himself. “I just think the class is weird.”

“It’s a double block class.” Sam adds on.

“Ew.” Charlie comments. “I couldn’t have two chemistry classes back to back.”

“Sam is literally also in the class.” Foolish huffs and he received a condoling pat on the shoulder from Fundy.

They spend the rest of their walk discussing the pros and cons of each science class Fundy, Charlie, and Quackity’s could take next year.

The conversation is mostly just really strange opinions on science classes and why they either suck or are the lesser of several evils.

Despite the late time and the chill in the air Charlie can confidently say he enjoyed his walk. Maybe there is something to following that stupid list.

Chapter Text

Quackity can feel his heart pounding in his chest. His anxiety is no longer a point of concern and more of an annoyance.

It’s definitely annoying now, he doesn’t even know what is making him so anxious. Not that anxiety need a reason to convince him that the world is ending. Maybe it’s school, maybe it’s stuff at home, maybe it’s just that fact that things can’t been too good for Quackity.

He hides his shaking hands by laying them flat against his thighs and leaning back against Sapnap’s bed so hard an indent is probably being made in his back.

Karl laughs at something Sapnap says and Quackity manages a grin that borders on grimace.

Maybe Quackity is so worked up because he is at Sapnap’s house in the first place. He hates hanging out here knowing one wrong move means interacting with Bad. What’s worse is today Quackity could see him in the kitchen when they went upstairs.

It’s like seeing at teacher out of school, totally wrong. Quackity hates it.

“What about you Q?” Karl asks and Quackity has no clue what the question means.

He really is trying to listen, but it’s hard above his own breathing and blood.

“Repeats that?” Quackity asks hoping the other two can’t tell anything is wrong.

“I asked if anyone caught your eye this school year. Obviously me and math boy are getting married, but what about you?”

“You aren’t marrying a guy who you brushed hands with once when giving him a calculator.” Sapnap says with an eye roll.

“Someone’s jealous.” Quackity jokes, though it’s sounds weak.

“I’m not jealous of the fact that Karl is boy crazy.” Sapnap huffs.

“I meant jealous that he wasn’t marrying you.”

“Fuck off man.”

“That is a yes.” Karl grins.

Quackity gives up on keeping his hands still and instead digs his fingernails into the meat of his palm.

“I don’t think I’m passing this test.” Quackity says.

“You’ll do great.” Sapnap hums from his desk. “It’s Karl that should be worried.”

“I’ve given up on math. I’ll just not pay taxes.” Karl sighs dramatically.

“Not like they teach us how to do that.” Sapnap points out.

“They really should.” Karl agrees turning to get Quackity’s input. “You good?” Karl asks visibly concerned as he takes in Quackity form.

Quackity’s heartbeat spike at the acknowledgment that someone else can see his suffering. It makes his palms sweat and he wants to hide. He doesn’t want Karl to see it judge him.

He probably looks crazy anyways, panicking over nothing. He is fine. Totally, he just needs his stupid brain to get the memo.

“Quackity.” It’s Sapnap, he’s getting out of his desk chair and approaching where Karl and Quackity are sat on the floor.

“I’m fine.” Quackity tries but it’s comes out shaky and breathless.

“No you aren’t.” Sapnap says and even though he is right it makes Quackity flinch.

“What’s wrong? How can we help?” Karl asks getting worried himself. Karl’s worry only feeds Quackity’s anxiety. He need everything to stop, he need to stop being so much, he needs to breathe.

Fuck why can’t he breathe.

Quackity takes a harsh gasp of air in, it comes back out all too quickly.

“I think he’s having a panic attack.” Sapnap says. “I’m going to get my dad.”

Karl nods anxiously.

Quackity can barley focus on anything around him. He wants to be alone. He wants Schlatt to hold his hand and ground him. He wants to breathe.

“It going to be okay.” Karl says though he doesn’t sound too sure. Quackity wishes Karl didn’t have to see this. He doesn’t want Karl to see him differently, to know the truth.

Quackity’s checks are wet and he doesn’t even know what he is crying about.

“Karl, Quackity?” It’s Bad.

Quackity makes another half gasp half choking noise.

Bad must say something to Sapnap and Karl because suddenly Karl’s presence at his side is gone. Of course they’re leaving, they don’t want to deal with this, they shouldn’t have to deal with this.

“Hey Quackity.” It’s Bad, he’s kneeling on the floor right in the middle of Quackity view.

If Quackity had enough air he would scream, he wants Bad no where near him right now.

“It’s okay. Can you understand me?”

Quackity nods. He can understand Bad just fine, the problem is that he can’t fucking breathe.

“Okay good. Do you want me to touch you, just on your arm there.” Bad points but, Quackity doesn’t bother looking, he nods.

“Okay.” Bad says again, infuriatingly calm. A warm hand is place on Quackity arm and desperately Quackity tried to focus on it.

The hand is real and his panic is not. Quackity is fine, he isn’t alone, and he isn’t dying. He’s fine.

“You need to follow my breathing, okay?” Bad says.

Quackity doesn’t bother nodding.

Bad takes big exaggerated breathes, first inhaling deeply, then holding it until his chest burns, and finally letting it fall out.

Quackity can’t manage to hold any air in, it keeps rushing out of him and he only panics more.

Bad doesn’t stop though, even as Quackity fails he keeps breathing deeply with a patience that makes Quackity’s skin crawl.

“Did you know Sapnap’s adopted?” Bad asks seemingly out of nowhere after Quackity fails at his breathing exercises again.

“Keep taking deep breathes like me,” Bad prompts, “he was, at two or so I think. He was so cute you know.”

It takes Quackity a minute before he realize what Bad is doing, grounding him and distracting him all at once.

It takes a rather long story of Sapnap’s bafflement over some kids having moms before Quackity can take three deep breathes on his own. After that Bad lets his talking trail off and studies Quackity intensely.

“Feeling better?” Bad asks after a minute of the only sound being Quackity’s breathing.

No, maybe, never. Quackity nods. “I guess.”

“Good.” Bad’s hand moves and Quackity takes a deep breath.

“What happened?” Bad asks.

“I don’t know.” Quackity tells the wall behind Bad’s head. It’s safer to focus there anyways.

“It okay. You don’t have to know. Do you want a ride home, or for me to grab Karl and Sapnap or do you just want me to stay here for a minute?” Bad asks.

Quackity wishes there weren’t so many options. “Karl and Sapnap can come back in. I’m fine.”

Bad studies him but doesn’t argue. “Alright. Yell if you need anything.”

Quackity needs the ground to swallow him whole, He needs to disappear.

Unfortunately his needs aren’t met, instead Sapnap’s bedroom door opens again revealing Sapnap and Karl both with a sickening amount of worry in their eyes.

“Hey.” Quackity offers from the floor.

“Hey.” Sapnap mimics, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just you know, anxiety.” Quackity shrugs, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Karl says taking his place next to Quackity again.

“Sorry.” Quackity apologizes feel out of place.

“It’s fine. Not like it was a big deal.” Sapnap says, with air of causality that makes Quackity want to crawl out of his skin.

But if the other two are willing to pretend like everything is normal then Quackity isn’t going to be the one to point out that nothing is.

~~~

Quackity waits until the last possible second to go to group, so much so that his father is all but dragging him out of the house. Who can blame him though? He doesn’t want to see the therapist who literal hours ago calmed him down from a panic attack.

Even though he is a good ten minutes late to group he isn’t the last one there. It’s shocking when he walks into the basement and neither Sam or Foolish are sat in their typical folding chairs.

“Quackity.” Bad greets like he was worried Quackity wouldn’t show up. He wouldn’t if he had a choice but that isn’t the point.

“Hi.” Quackity offers.

“Was there bad traffic?” Fundy asks.

“Nah.”

“It’s weird that Sam and Foolish aren’t here then.” Charlie points out.

“Maybe they’re just skipping?” Quackity shrugs.

“Both of them?” Fundy says doubtfully.

“Maybe they went somewhere more fun.” Charlie suggests.

“Like?” Quackity hums.

“The movies. The moon. School. A prison.” Charlie starts to list.

“I get it.” Bad cuts in.

“I could continue.” Charlie grins.

“We could add some too.” Fundy agrees.

“Or you can start your introductions for now while we wait.” Bad says.

“We can do that without everyone here?” Fundy questions.

“It’s been fifteen minutes. I think we can start and if they arrive we’ll catch them up.” Bad says. “Anyways. My name is Bad and I feel good. One good thing about my week is that I bought a new winter coat, though I don’t need it quite yet. One bad thing about my week is that Skeppy hasn’t been feeling well. And for todays question, do you like scary stories? I don’t mind them either way.”

“Is that todays thing?” Quackity questions. “Scary stories?”

“Maybe.” Bad says with a shrug. “Who knows.”

“That is a yes.” Charlie hums.

“I’m Fundy.” Fundy cuts in. “I feel hungry. One good thing about my week is that I did really good on my history report. One bad thing about my week is that Wilbur’s been in a mood. I don’t like scary stories.”

“I’m sorry Wilbur has been in a mood, try not to let it affect you, though I know that can be difficult.” Bad advises. “What about you Charlie?”

“I’m Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I aced a math test for the first time ever pretty much. One bad thing about my week is that I have a lot of homework tonight. I like scary stories.” Charlie says.

“Congrats on your math test Charlie!” Bad says. “While grades aren’t everything you should definitely be proud of yourself, you did amazing.”

Charlie visibly brightens and Quackity is torn between this weird proud feeling and wanting to roll his eyes. He does neither and instead starts his own introduction.

“My name is Quackity. I feel tired. One good thing about my week is that I wanted some Halloween movies with friends. One bad thing about my week is that I had a panic attack. I’m okay with scary stories.”

“I’m glad you’ve been spending time with your friends Quackity. I’m sorry-“ Before Bad can finish he cuts himself off.

“I’m sorry you guys but I’m going to take this call in the hall. Why don’t one of you tell a scary story today then we can call group done early. I think you’ve all earned a break.” Bad says and though his words are really nice his face looks worried.

Bad leaves and the three of them stare at each other for a minute.

“Anyone know a story?” Fundy asks.

“I do.” Charlie grins.

Fundy makes a go on gesture.

“So I go out with a few of my friends right, and we go to the park and then to a friends house. Well when we’re walking to this friends house I go to call my parents to let them know what I’m doing.”

“Which is how we know this is a story.” Quackity snorts.

Charlie continues unbothered. “And I don’t have my phone. I think I left it at my house but I’m not sure so before we leave the park I borrow a friends phone to call myself. The phone rings for a bit and then the call connects which is super weird. I can hear someone breathing and then this guy just starts laughing before hanging up.”

“Your phone got stolen.” Fundy fills in.

“That’s what I thought.” Charlie agrees sagely, “until I got back home to my empty house to find my phone on my desk.”

“Oh.” Quackity says. “scary.”

“I don’t see you telling and stories.” Charlie huffs at his unimpressed tone.

“Ignore him.” Fundy says. “You did great and now we get to leave.”

“Yay.” Quackity says with a bit more feeling. “I’ll se you losers next Thursday.”

“You are also one of the losers.” Fundy calls but Quackity is already texting his dad to pick him up while walking out the basement door.

Chapter Text

“You both look like shit.” Quackity says in that ever pleasant way of his.

“We got in an accident.” Foolish says shrugging it off like he has been for the past week. Sam wonders how he can act so unbothered by what happened, he wonders how Foolish can look him in the eye.

“What?” Fundy asks looking startled.

“A car accident.” Sam clarifies taking his seat. “Last Thursday, on the way to group.”

“Fuck.” Quackity says eyes wide. “That explains why you both looked like shit at school.”

“Language.” Bad scolds.

“You could have answered a text though.” Fundy says.

“We were busy.” Sam says which sounds a lot better than panicking and then unable to muster the will to talk with anyone, much less answers texts.

“Busy getting into car accidents?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. It’s okay. We’re just glad you’re okay.” Bad cuts in.

“It doenst sound like it.” Foolish jokes kicking at Quackity across their circle of chairs.

Quackity raises an eyebrow and kicks him back harder than is necessary.

“Guys.” Bad cuts in again with a sigh. Sam can’t help but wonder if his jobs is really worth it to Bad, they have certainly made a pastime out of pushing the man’s limits.

“Sorry.” Charlie says. He doesn’t sound sorry necessarily and he definitely isn’t the main problem, but it’s the thought that counts.

“It’s okay. Why don’t we go ahead and get started with today’s introduction before our activity.” Bad says.

“My name is Bad and I feel happy. One good part of my week was seeing all of the kids dressed up for Halloween. One bad part of my week was how cold it was. For this weeks question, what is one upcoming thing you are looking forward to? I’m looking forward to being able to see my family over the school break Sapnap has in November.”

“I’m Fundy. I feel bored. One good thing about my week is that I didn’t have a lot of homework. One bad thing about my week is that it has been super cold and gross out. I’m looking forward to having school off soon.” Fundy says.

“I’m glad you haven’t had a large class load.” Bad tells Fundy. “What about you Sam.”

“My name is Sam and I feel… things.” Sam says stiltedly. Frankly he isn’t sure what he is feeling, it can really just best be described as loud. “One good part of my week is that i had no tests this week. One bad part of my week is that I’ve been feeling things.”

“That is typically how that works.” Fundy deadpans.

“Fuck off.” Sam grins. “Anyways I’m looking forward to Black Friday I guess.”

“You don’t always need to understand how you are feeling but it is important to feel and accept those emotions so you can then regulate them in a healthy manner.” Bad says.

Foolish takes his turn next. “My name is Foolish and I feel stressed. One good thing about my week is that I have a good talk with Puffy. One bad part of my week is that I’ve been pretty sore. Im looking forward to football season being over after we get beat horrendously in the championship.”

“Well I’m glad you’re having open conversations with Puffy.” Bad says with a nod. “Charlie?”

“My name is Charlie and I feel fine. One good thing about my week is that I hung out with some of my friends Monday. One bad thing about my week is that I feel like I have a cold. I’m looking forward to sleeping in this weekend.”

“That’s a good thing to look forward towards.” Bad says with a laugh. “I hope you feel better soon though.

“My name is Quackity. I feel tired I guess. One good thing about my week is that today is Día de los Muertos so we have family over and things have been surprisingly good so far. One bad thing about my week is that the average on this weeks AP government test was a 65 precent. I’m looking forward to spending time with my family and celebrating tonight.” Quackity says and true to his words he does look genuinely excited.

“Well I hope you and your family have a good time together.” Bad grins. “As for the test don’t feel too upset over it, Sapnap was complaining to me about it as well.”

Fundy blinks. “Why was your son complaining to you about an AP government test?”

“Because he is in the class and the teacher is rather mediocre.” Bad says.

“Your son is in high school?” Fundy asks baffled.

“He’s in our year?” Quackity asks just as confused.

“I thought they just had the same name!” Fundy defends himself. “Bad makes Sapnap sound so young.”

“I’m Fundy’s defense-” Sam starts.

“No.” Foolish cuts in. “No. There is no defense. You know that Sapnap has spent time at my house. You’ve seen him.”

“I have.” Sam agrees. “But before that I did somewhat assume he was elementary aged.”

“Who names their fucking kid Sapnap much less two different people.” Quackity says.

“Who names their fucking kid Quackity of Foolish for that matter.”

“Language all of you.” Bad says.

“I didn’t say anything.” Charlie argues.

“That’s right.” Fundy says turning on Charlie. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet, what did you think.”

“That Sapnap was Bad’s son. And I knew he was a teenager.” Charlie says.

“Lies.” Fundy accuses.

“Honestly I’m starting to think you’re lying.” Quackity says. “This has to be a bit.”

“You’ve heard the way Bad talks about him. It’s not a strange conclusion to make.” Sam shrugs.

“Yes it is!” Quackity says waving his hands around to make his point.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m on Quackity’s side here.” Foolish says.

“Fuck you.” Quackity huffs.

“You had outside information before hearing Bad talk about his son. You had a bias, therefore you don’t count.” Sam points out.

“Says who?”

“Me. Most scholars. Journalism.” Sam lists.

“Okay.” Bad cuts in. “Should we start with todays activity?”

None of them agree but Bad doesn’t let it bother him, which is probably good because if it did bother him he definitely wouldn’t have lasted long as their therapist.

“Today’s activity on the list is, ‘recovery is possible.’ For that I just want us to share some things we have overcome and recovered from. It will serve as a good reminder that recover is possible and something we can work towards no matter how long it takes. Big or small.” Bad says.

Quackity pulls a face and Charlie snorts but Bad doesn’t seem to notice.

“Personally I’ve overcome my own self worth issues and suicidal ideation.” Bad says like it is that simple.

Saying it like that, bluntly and smartly, makes it all sound so easy and achievable. Like somehow Sam isn’t working hard enough to achieve that. It makes him feel both too small and too large.

Fundy considers his words for a minute. “Can I say I overcame my body issues.”

“Feels like a cop out to just say you overcame being a woman.” Charlie says before he realizes something. “Not that you need to overcome being a woman! I respect women and they shouldn’t have to overcome anything. I should have said your birth gender, this is horrible.”

Quackity pats Charlie’s shoulder in a manner that is perfectly condescending.

“Moving on.” Charlie cuts in. “I’ve overcome my burn out and lack of motivation.”

“I’m proud of both of you Fundy and Charlie.” Bad says looking amused.

“Self worth for me too I guess.” Foolish says after a minute.

Sam, unwilling to let Foolish suffer alone also joins in, “active suicidal thoughts and actions.”

Bad nods.

“Isolation I guess. I don’t know.” Quackity shrugs.

They’ve all over come something but they’ve still got so much further to go. Sam wonders if they can, he hopes they can at least. Though hopes probably aren’t worth much.

~~~

“I feel like my brain is exploding.” Ponk complains over her AP Biology homework.

“You should have taken Chemistry with us.” Foolish says unsympathetically.

“You literally set off the fire alarm yesterday in that class.” Ponk says.

“Yeah, but at least you’d be suffering with me and Sam.”

“Maybe one of your should have taken biology.” Ponk frowns. “I can’t imagine why neither of you would suck it up and do taht for me.”

“Because spending two periods a day in a chemistry class sounded like hell.” Sam says.

Ponk frowns even harder. “This is so stupid. I’m judging going to tell her my grandmother died.”

“Your grandmother is already dead.” Sam points out.

“My teacher doesn’t know that.”

Foolish laughs. “That’s one I’d never get away with.”

Pick kicks at Foolish under the table. “No dark humor at the dinner table.”

“We live under a tyrant.” Foolish says eyes focusing on Sam.

Sam wants to absolutely vanish. “I’d say that since we’re both taller than him it’s more like living over a tyrant.”

“Fuck you.” Ponk says with no malice in their tone. “I hope you fail your next math test.”

“If I fail my next math test that I’m going to tell my teachers husband she’s having an affair.”

Foolish’s eyes widen almost comically. “Your math teacher is having an affair? Why in hell do you know about it?”

“She may be having an affair. I don’t know, probably not though.” Sam shrugs.

“Why not just attempt to bribe her rather than ruin her life?” Ponk points out.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

“I take it back, you’re both demented and I need new friends.” Foolish jokes.

“You literally punched a guy.” Ponk deadpans.

“It was an accident.” Foolish groans.

“Definitely not an accident.” Sam cuts in.

“Not an accident. But it wasn’t necessarily malicious either.” Foolish relents.

“It’s not like he didn’t have it coming.” Ponk says.

“Still, you can’t just go around punching people.” Foolish groans.

“I mean, you could.”

“Not legally!”

“Laws are a fools errand.”

“Letting you read Shakespeare was a fools errand.” Sam tells Ponk.

“One, that’s not from Shakespeare I don’t think. Two, fuck you. Three, bitch.” Ponk says waving a finger at Sam.

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me, after all we’ve been through.”

“I feel like sometimes you two wake up and just do your best to wear on my thin sanity.” Foolish says.

“We do.” Ponk says.

“Actually,” Sam adds on, “we’ve got a bet on who can break you first.”

“I’d believe it.”

“I can’t believe you think so little of us.” Ponk sighs.

“I think the exact right amount of you to never be surprised or disappointed.”

“Where is the fun in that?”

“Surprise keeps a relationship alive.” Sam says absently attempting to refocus on the math homework in front of him. That is definitely a fool errand because the numbers and letters stopped making sense two units ago and honestly Sam has just been winging it.

“Our relationship is very alive.” Ponk deadpans.

“Despite countless attempts on it.” Foolish agrees, which is of course the closest any of them come to addressing it. It being the two attempts and two car crashes started between the three of them. The careful avoidance of the subject is and art that makes Sam’s heart pang.

He wishes they didn’t have to avoid things like that, that maybe they never happened in the first place, or maybe they had recovered enough to discuss it, or maybe simply that they were brave enough to talk about it.

None of those maybes are true though so Sam decides to switch the topic. “We should do something this weekend.”

Sam can’t say what posses him to get the words out but they feel right.

“Like what?” Foolish asks.

“Like anything. Like whatever.” Sam shrugs.

“You just can’t get enough of us.” Ponk jokes.

“I’d sell your organs for a free ride to college.” Sam lies.

Ponk leans against his shoulder and Foolish is laughing across the table, and for the first time in both weeks and years, Sam feels perfectly content.

He hopes it’s lasts, maybe if he could stay here with them it would.

Chapter Text

Fundy’s life is fairly monotonous now that he is avoiding his mother. Avoiding, not hiding from or hating on. Just, avoiding. Without his house switches or having someone to complain to about everything without them trying to fix it, Fundy feels like he has fallen a step too far into habit.

Fundy feels like he is falling a lot, falling from each careful line he toes and each expectation he sets.

Now though, he wakes up, eats breakfast, barely survives school constantly feeling like one wrong move will set him back a hundred steps, goes home, does homework, eats dinner, cries in his room, sleeps. It’s a routine and Fundy fucking hates routine.

He had a routine growing up, one that involved used needles, hunger, and sickness from whatever mold grew in their apartment.

Fundy hated getting sick, he still does for that matter. He hates the feeling of misery and vulnerability. He was vulnerable when sick, not just because of his chronically weak immune system, but also because he would be alone.

The only things that break his new routine are going to group therapy and when Wilbur gets his wits about him enough to try to talk to Fundy.

Fundy should not be upset at Wilbur, he knows that rationally but that doesn’t mean he has exactly invited any attempts at conversation. Instead most of the time Fundy is downright mean and toeing the line of just shutting Wilbur out.

It isn’t Wilbur’s fault, none of it is and Fundy would do the same in his shoes. But he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want the conversation, or pity, or whatever else Wilbur comes offering.

Fundy just wants to go home, and to sleep. But he is home or the closest he’ll ever get and the kind of sleep he needs isn’t something he is allowed.

It’s fine though. It’s fine and Fundy’s fine and his monotonous life is fine. He can live with it. He can go about his day knowing how it ends and only going through the motions. It’s fine, other people probably live like this. Maybe it is some big secret that everyone is secretly bored and unhappy.

School brings its own set of conflicts of course but Fundy is pretty good at ignoring them for the most part. He has a few, not friends really, but people he can bare to talk to in most of his classes and they tend to scare off anyone wanting trouble.

Most people who want trouble don’t want to risk someone thinking they are in the wrong. And anyone talking to Fundy would probably think they are in the wrong.

It also probably helps that rumor has spread about what Foolish did and while the story is far from the truth it is enough to scare some off.

Maybe, if Fundy was an optimist he would even say that school is better this year, despite how hard his classes are. He isn’t an optimist though, but still it isn’t that bad.

Another unexpected perk about Fundy’s new monotonous school year is watching his favorite drama in front of him in AP government. It is the only thing that changes from day to day and it’s the most engaging part of his school day.

“Stop being a fucking creep.” Quackity hisses turning backwards in his chair in government to glare at Fundy.

Maybe Sapnap, Bad’s son Sapnap that is, who sits beside Quackity blinks in surprise.

The other maybe Sapnap turns around in his own seat. “Q?” He asks.

“He’s fucking narrating this.”

All Fundy had said was that the pickup line maybe Sapnap had used on Quackity was poor.

“I’m not narrating. I’m commenting.” Fundy corrects easily.

“Do your fucking government work.” Quackity hisses.

“It’s not like you are.” Fundy counters.

“Because this is a stupid class.” Maybe Sapnap number one says.

“Do you two know each other?” Maybe Sapnap number two asks.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“That clears a lot up.” Number one says plainly.

“Somewhat.” Quackity shrugs.

“That’s pretty much an admittance of friendship from Quackity.” Number two laughs.

“Fuck off.” Quackity groans.

“We’re totally friends.” Fundy says because an easy way to beat off monotony is to cause problems.

“I don’t like you at all.”

“So you love me?” Fundy asks, mock earnestly. “That is moving a bit fast for me Quackity. No offense but I’m just not ready.”

Number two giggles and Fundy feels pretty accomplished that he got someone who is seemingly normal to also find him normal and funny.

“You aren’t my type.” Quackity deadpans. “I’m not into redheads.”

Fundy gasps bringing a hand to his hair. “You know I can’t control that.” He huffs.

“Sorry carrot too, it’s just the truth.”

“I’ll have you know plenty of guys find my hair very nice.”

“Like who-“ Before Quackity can properly finish is question number one slaps a hand over his mouth.

Number one, smartly, removed his hand right after. “You are walking yourself into a your dad joke man.” He says.

“Sapnap has learned to be very wear of your dad jokes. Having two and all.” Number two cackles, clearly he is part of the problem.

Fundy studies Bad son in a useless attempt to find any similarities between the two. As suspected he can’t find anyways but it’s still nice to have some confirmation about which one of them is Sapnap, Bad’s son Sapnap, not just some guy named Sapnap like Fundy had previously thought.

Quackity just rolls his eyes and grins, it a strange sight to see, Quackity grinning. So Fundy does what he does best and turns away. It’s easier to turn your back on things than it is to understand them.

~~~

Foolish and Sam are no longer covered in small bandaids, or at least those that cover the wounds from the accident. Accident seems like a kinder way of describing it to Fundy. But now Foolish has a large bandage plastered over his right knee.

“What did you do?” Fundy asks him while taking his seat in the dark and miserable basement.

Foolish turned red and Sam starts to laugh, clearly having heard this story already.

“I tripped.” Foolish says.

“Tripped?” Fundy asks.

“Down the steps.” Foolish mumbles.

“How did you manage that?” Charlie asks, baffled, from his own seat.

“I was on the phone texting.” Foolish huffs.

“Maybe wait until after you’re done with the steps before you text next time Foolish.” Bad says.

“I know.” Foolish groans.

“What were you even texting about?” Fundy asks.