Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dark laughs as Alan is tricked into giving this random hollowhead powers. The idiot fell for it hook, line, and sinker. 

He can't help but feel pride.

Until.. He watches as H4cker forcibly changes The Chosen One’s name. Feels the uncomfortable rearranging of his code prickling beneath his veins as The- as No One falls into the water. And for once, his code isn't screaming at him to Destroy The Chosen One. No. His mind is screaming, 

‘he can't swim, he can't swim, he can't swim, he can't swim, he can't swim, he can't swim’

H4cker flies off, and Dark skirts to a halt at the ledge outside his lab. His last remaining virabot scutters behind his legs, waiting for a command. And Dark stands still, drifting into a memory.

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Years ago. Sometime in 2011. The Dark Lord and The Chosen One decided to finally find somewhere to call home after a long week of enjoying themselves. The Chosen One had found a place, saying it was ‘faraway enough for them to relax but close enough to civilization if they wanted to do it again’

And The Dark Lord agreed. Besides, he needed to mess with his code. Destroying civilizations helped, but the pin needles in his blood were… upsetting to say the least. 

So while The Chosen One cleaned up the base for the two of them to consider ‘liveable’ The Dark Lord tweaked with a laptop he had stolen from some stick. 

It was weirdly domestic sitting in his ‘room’ with The Chosen One fixing up the remains of their.. What even was this? Their Base? House? He didn't know.

He also needed a way to refer to his friend other than The Chosen One, a mouthful of a name that was.

There's rapping at his door, and The Dark Lord realizes he was too busy thinking about their new base of operations to effectively modify his laptop, and he hums disappointedly before getting up and opening it.

The Chosen One smiles before pointing his thumb behind him and waving for The Dark Lord to follow, to which he does.

 The Chosen One was an interesting stick. Already beaten and bruised before The Dark Lord met him. He wasn't a talkative stick, unlike The Dark Lord. Though he was a very good listener.. Still, The Dark Lord doesn't like the quiet. 

So as they leave the house, to then face it and see the now mostly cleaned, and less boarded up house, The Dark Lord pretends not to be aware.

“What am I looking at?” he crosses his arms. And snorts when The Chosen One stares at him stupidly. 

“...I fixed it.” he pauses before waving his hand in the direction of the house and stepping back, “our house..” The Chosen One’s voice is.. Hard to describe. Gruff and quiet, but poignant enough that The Dark Lord doesn't have to strain to hear him. 

The Dark Lord hums. On one hand, he couldn't care less about some house. He’s itching to get back out there and wreak havoc… on the other hand. The Chosen One is his.. Friend. 

He huffs, “Well, I'll admit I didn't think you had an eye for…” What was it, “decoration” he shrugs, looking to the other. 

And is taken aback by the small smile tugging at The Chosen One's lips. No, it wasn't the first time he’s smiled. But this felt more… genuine for some reason. 

There's a feeling of something brushing against his hand, and The Dark Lord cringes as he realizes The Chosen One got closer, was trying to hold his hand-

There's a cold viper biting into him, eating away at his rational.

mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

MISSION = DESTROY THE CHOSEN ONE-

The Dark Lord whips his hand to his chest with a gasp. 

Then, finally, he tunes back in. The Chosen One had backed up once more. His eyes squinted horribly, looking concerned. Before speaking, “The Dark Lord?”

He blinks. Once- twice. Before answering “sorry, I was. . . I don't know, just sorry,” it was weird. He had thought that destroying civilizations would be enough to put his code on standby. But the inanimate being inside him seemed impatient, which horrified him. It was CODE. It shouldn't get impatient. 

The Dark Lord huffs, looking around him for an excuse, to the great body of water below. An idea sparks in him to cool them both off. 

“Apolagies. I was just thinking. Would you be interested in swimming?” he coolly waves to the gorge behind them. 

The Chosen One looks at him for a minute before relaxing (as relaxed as The Chosen One could be) before asking with a quirk of his eyebrow, “.can you swim..?” 

The Dark Lord grins, successfully distracting The Chosen One. “wanna find out?”

The Chosen One gives a familiar meek smile before nodding. And flying with The Dark Lord to the lowest point of land, able to dip their feet into the water below.

The Dark Lord silently shuffles away from The Chosen One, sighing relaxed as the hiss of code under his skin finally quiets, ironically as he dips further into the water.

Surrounding him like a blanket up to his neck, and the code is barely a hum. And he smiles, even as he stumbles to swim, staying near the short ledge, looking to The Chosen One, who was. Struggling. 

While The Dark Lord was finally at peace in the water, finally himself, and his friend seemed quite the opposite. And he sat, barely hanging off the short ledge, his whole legs in the water. He seemed frozen. Almost literally, as ice nipped at his fingers, frosting the grass at the ledge. 

The Dark Lord Paddles to him, hopping onto the ledge and out of the water. Cringing as the horrible and familiar chant reverberates under his skin. 

“The Chosen One?” he shuffles close until the humming spikes into yelling. And stays there for a beat. “What’s- uh, what's up”

The Chosen One started breathing heavily before answering in a quiet voice, “Get me out.”

The Dark Lord huffed, gathering himself to grab the other. “What, you don't like the water?” Unsurprisingly, the other stick shakes his head.

The Dark Lord Grabs The Chosen One's Forearms - Mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One), And Hulls him up, destroy the chosen one. Letting him lie on the edge before letting him go.

He stands, staring at the lying figure, breathing heavily and shivering even though the water wasn't cold.

It's at this point The Dark Lord realizes he never asked what life was like for The Chosen One before they met. He knows The Chosen One was there for a while. But as he lies there panting from being in the water. 

The same warm embrace that cooled him down. 

Anger boils in him- destroy -he just wants to- destroy -help his friend- destroy the chosen one -how could someone do anything horrible to him?

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The virabot bot scutters, hissing at the ledge. And Dark has already committed himself, backing up and running before diving off the ledge. 

The splash of water encapsulates him as he swims to the ever-sinking body of Cho.

Though the cool blanket of water surrounding him is familiar in a good way, he knows Cho must be panicking if he were conscious. His swimming is boosted by his flying. And he gets closer to Cho’s sinking body. 

For the first time, Dark isn't worried about the screaming of code. And as he touches Chosen and holds him close. He was surprised by the silence. The only thing screaming at him was his head. His want.

His NEED to free Chosen.

Chapter Text

Carrying Chosen out of the water was a lot harder now that he was practically dead weight, unconscious from breathing in too much water or something.

Dark hauls Chosen onto the ledge of grass outside their old home, breathing heavily and waving off the Virabot as it prods at Chosen.

Kneeling to the ground, Dark looks at his hands, which have a gradient to vanta black; he can't help but not care. Silence. Sweet sweet silence. After all these years. He can think for himself. 

“Hck-” a cough, wet and.. Gross startles him out of his thoughts, and he sees Chosen coughing.

Snapped quickly, Dark leans to Chosen's chest, he can't breathe, he's trying like all hell but-

Dark puts his hands on top of one another and pushes against the other stick’s chest, the motion ingrained into his mind after a late night of trying to ease Chosen’s worries and saying, ‘No, The Chosen One, you won’t drown, that's crazy talk, you can fly!’ he wishes he had time to slap himself.

Dark tilts Chosen’s head back and connects their lips, lending air a few times before backing up and chest compressing again. “Come on, asshole, breathe.”

It takes another minute of chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth for Chosento to cough up water and start breathing normally. And Dark sighs. 

This whole situation was crazy. The last time Chosen saw him, he was hurtling towards their earth after being death lasered by some toddler. 

He chuckles. Cursors above, he sounds so serious. 

Sitting next to his old friend, Dark waves off the virabot; he won’t need it for a while. 

And finally, finally. Chosen speaks. 

“Dark..?” he sounded different than how Dark remembers him sounding, though he did just resuscitate him, so the depressed sound must be from that. “Hey buddy”

Chosen squints, looking Dark up and down.. “Am I dead?”

A laugh is ripped from Dark. “No, I'm pretty sure I just made sure you weren’t,” he pats Chosen on the back, pretending not to see him flinch.

There's a beat of silence.

“Why are you here?” Chosen looks at Dark with what he can only assume to be an unreadable. 

Dark smiles, as hard as he can. Grabbing onto one of Chosens' hands, reveling in the quiet around them, “because I can. I can, Chosen. I can. Nothing is stopping me.” 

Nothing can describe the Euphoria as Chosen’s face shifts from confusion to revelation. 

“Your..”

Dark nods repeatedly. “I’m Free”

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It’s another quiet day in their house. Excuse after excuse, The Chosen One has convinced The Dark Lord to stay home or take a break. 

On this specific break. The Dark Lord has had enough. mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

No not in that way.

Although. That does remind him. The Dark Lord looks up from his laptop. The Chosen One and The Dark Lord have been friends for five years now, and they've gotten close destroy. As close as his code destroy(The_Chosen_One) will allow him to be.

Which has him thinking. He should probably tell The Chosen one destroy about his codemission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

Hm. lovely. 

Unfortunately for his code mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One). This only proved his point. 

Every day. Every day, his code gets harder and harder to ignore. Headaches are constant, and his arms twitch and thrash sometimes in the hope of attacking the other stick.

It has taken control before. Not fully, but it ended up with him and The Chosen One fighting in some field. Ending with an agreement to train together since The Dark Lord was ‘itching for a fight’

No, he must tell The Chosen One mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

Now preferably. 

The Dark Lord gets up from his seat, leaving his room, in search of his companion.

The door slams over, and The Dark Lord travels to the living room, where The Chosen One was predictably sweeping under the coffee table (whether or not he did it on purpose, The Chosen One ran on a tight schedule of chores around the house, and depending on how tired he was, he would end up making The Dark Lord help out on one or two. Which was BORING)

The Dark Lord grins wickedly as he quietly scuttles over silently as The Chosen One’s back is turned, raises his arms, and slams them down, grabbing the other stick by the shoulders.destroy(The_Chosen_One)destroy(The_Chosen_One)destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

The only evidence of The Dark Lord’s scare being successful is a quick gasp from The Chosen One; besides that, the other stick doesn't flinch. “Hello, The Dark Lord..”

“Hey, man! Come on- I scared you, right?” The Dark Lord grins cheekily, before backing up, finally letting go of The Chosen One destroy(The_Chosen_One)

The Chosen One does a pathetic attempt at an eyeroll before nodding, “Sure.”

The Dark Lord giggles before finally mentioning what he came here for. “Listen, man. Uh- I actually have something to tell you. Its sorta important.”

The Chosen One quirks his eyebrow before gesturing to his broom, “Can.. I finish chores..?”

The Dark Lord hums, pretending to think it over, “hmmmmm. No, you can finish it after.” he yanks mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One) The Chosen One over to the couch, sitting and pulling the other to sit as well. 

The Dark Lord smiles, turning in his seat so he faces the other stick and slaps his hands to his lap. “Are you ready? Because it's a doozy,” he chuckles.

The Chosen One nods, seemingly sure. And The Dark Lord takes a breath to calm himself. Now was not the time to be hyper.

“Okay, so.. You remember when I was created, though you were busy fighting Clippy, so you were still busy with that. But I just wanna know if you remember the MOMENT I was created or-”

The Chosen One slowly shook his head. “No, I... was fighting that paper.. Clip… thing. I wasn’t able to see. Did.” he pauses, looking up at The Dark Lord. “Did. Something happened?”

“Uh- yeah- The Dark Lord barks out a laugh. “Something did happen uh.” The Dark Lord takes a deep breath. 

“I was given a mission deep in my code-” The Chosen One nods along, squinting his eyes, “to destroy you.” mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)mission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

DESTROY

DESTROY

The Dark Lord watches- waiting. For The Chosen One to light his fists on fire or attack or something. But.. he breathes heavily for a moment before carefully setting a hand on The Dark Lord’s forearm, before pulling it away when The Dark Lord flinches.

“The Dark Lord… I-..” he huffs, seemingly frustrated about something. “I'm not good at.. Saying what I'm thinking in- in a meaningful way, but…” he pauses “if there is anything. I can do to help. Tell me. Okay?”

The Dark Lord grins, “Okay!” 

He then hops up from the couch! “Now, how about we get these chores done and do a little sparring! I have a feeling I'll beat you this time, I have.. A secret weapon..” he connects his fingers together like an evil mastermind and cackles.

The Chosen One smiles from his spot on the couch. “I've said this a million times,” he says, sitting up, “your well-rested mind isn't a secret weapon,” he says, bending his fingers in quotation marks.

“Sure, sure!”

.

.

.

“Hey… The Dark Lord..?”

“Yeah?”

.

“I… I love you.”

DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

DESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROY

DESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROY

DESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)DESTROY

DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYmission.The_Dark_Lord = destroy(The_Chosen_One)

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Dark Watches Chosen wrings his clothes out, shaking the water out of his hair. Now. Actually, looking at his friend and not worrying about him dying, he looks. More beat up than he has been for a while.

And for whatever reason, he starts walking to the woods? “Hey! Chosen!” he jogs to catch up. “Dude! Hey, I'm back, and you're walking off? I basically died, I mean, my virabots put me back together, and it hurt like a bitch, but you don't even wanna know what's going on? I got this new power and-” The Chosen One freezes.

“You still have… your other powers, right? You can fly?” Chosen grits, spitting the words out so much that Dark thinks he might knock out his own teeth.

Dark crosses his arms, their venta black color also hasn't gained any interest from Chosen, which kinda pisses him off; it was Dark’s favorite part of coming back; he’s got a gradient now. “Uhhh, yeah? How do you think I got here, man- I wasn’t walking that distance, I mean, come on ma,n my legs would kill me-”

“Dark.”

Dark stops talking. “What. What is it?”

Chosen’s face is stern, and quite frankly, he looks pissed. “I need you… to fly me to this rocket… building. The Second Coming is in trouble.” 

Dark rolls his eyes, squinting, “Who?”

Chosen growls, baring his teeth. If he still had his powers, he thinks smoke would start flowing out between his teeth, “Orange- that orange hollowhead.”

“Oh my god, that kid who killed me?” he bares his teeth as well; his are sharper than Chosen’s, but the other doesn't flinch.

“YOU,” he steps closer to him, jabbing his finger to Dark’s chest, “YOU killed his friends and almost killed him. I THINK he was justified.”

Dark growls. “Why should I help. Huh? I don't care about that fucking kid.” his eyes are burning, and he can’t tell if it’s because he wants to cry or use his laser eyes. 

Chosen’s face falls, dramatically so. “Dark. If you.. EVER. Cared about me,” he grabs him by the shoulder. “I need you to do this. Please.”

Ever cared? Dark DOES care. He does. Is that not obvious? He spent YEARS dealing with splitting headaches and boiling blood just to be friends PARTNERS with the idiot in front of him. 

He sighs, dragging his hand down his face. “Fine. fine. Hold my hands, point me in the direction, and I’ll fly you there. Okay?”

Chosen nods, “okay,” and reaches for Dark’s hands 

“And we stay together, okay? We are still a team.”

Chosen glares at him. Grabbing his hands, “Let's go Dark.”

Dark huffs, locking his hands together with Chosen and shooting up into the air, leaving cinders in his wake. 

Chapter Text

They land somewhere on top of the gray building. Chosen yanks his hands from Darks, taking a moment to breathe. No longer able to handle the high speeds of flying. 

Dark stands with his hands on his hips, “So do we actually have a plan here, or are we going in guns blazing because I think you know what I vote for?” 

Chosen glares at him for a moment. “No. We’re going to…” he looks around the roof of the building, walking over to a large flat part of it. “I’m pretty sure this should be around where I was… held..” he nods to himself, “I was paused but.. I think his yellow friend was there too?”

Dark growls, “Chosen! I don’t know if you remember, but YOU can’t fly. I appreciate the compliment to my strength, but I’m not flying you, that orange kid, and a yellow kid out of here!”

“Stop.. yelling.”

“Fine.”

They’re both silent, not really knowing how to continue, before Dark speaks up. 

“Okay, so- we go in, break those two out, and run for an exit?” to which Chosen nods.

“Okay, uh. You realize that they aren’t gonna be as uh” he waves his hands in Chosen’s direction “as excited to see me as you were”

Chosen squints his eyes, “and?”

Dark smacks his lips. “Nothing. Just preparing you, what do you want me to do?” he’s not getting anywhere with Chosen while he has his mind set on something. He just needs to get this done, and then they can talk. Go back to normal. Oh, he could even do a chore.

Chosen taps his foot to the floor beneath him. “We go in here.”

Dark nods, gesturing The Chosen One to get out of the way before smirking. If Cho wasn’t going to ask about his new look, then he’d bring it to the front of view.

Dark snaps right arm to the side, letting the dark energy infused into him pour out and take shape into a virablade. Slamming it beneath him, letting the ground beneath his feet liquify into dark energy, and he falls, slamming to the floor, directly in front of a blue door. The remnants of where he fell through the ceiling pooled back into his viraband and flowed into his skin once more. 

Dark smirks. The venta black color extended past his elbows now. 

“THUD”

He turns around as Chosen hisses in pain

“There's no way that fall actually hurt you,” he says, looking up at it.

“I don't have my POWERS Dark…” he hisses a whisper through his teeth. 

“There's no way that's the limit for a normal stick!” It wasn’t even that far! They’ve both fallen  100 times that distance! Being a normal stick is ass. 

“Shhh!” Chosen puts a finger to his own lips 

“Am I yelling??” he squints, he’s just talking.

“You're always. Yelling.”

Dark rolls his eyes, waving his arm to the door behind him. “Come on, your children are in danger, remember.”

Chosen looks to the side. Wincing as he takes a step, but otherwise pushes through and opens the door. Peeking in. 

“The Yellow stick is in there, and Second must be in one of those little chambers..” He walks fully in. 

Dark follows in, looking around in the room. There indeed is that yellow stick.. His only relevant memory is him holding the stick in a chokehold in the air. 

His arms twitch.

“Dark..”

“Hm?” he looks back at Chosen. Who is staring at the white box, where Dark was just looking at?

He looks back. 

The yellow stick figure in the chair was staring at him, turning his neck as far as he could to see him. With wide eyes. Glasses askew, as he’s stationed in his chair. And for whatever reason, Dark can only think that, damn it must hurt his neck.

“Dark!”

“WHAT!” he snaps his head to the other 

Chosen look at him questioningly before asking, “Can you just-” he sighs, exhausted for some reason, “Can you free him? From the computer?” he points behind him to the giant fucking console. Oh my god, that is so cool.

“Holy shit- yeah, probably let me just gush over how awesome this is-”

“Dark, can you PLEASE-”

“Ughhhh.” Dark rolls his eyes and sulks over to the console. “Can you at least barricade yourself between us? I'm not gonna help if he punches me- I'm serious”

Chosen nods, walking up to the white box and talking to the stick. 

Dark stares at the console for a moment. He just wants to ogle the hell out of this machinery. He needs one for home. 

He shakes his head before typing on the computer. There's no password for whatever reason, leading to just the controls for the box. 

~{StickFigureYellow.exe   Alan Becker   00   19,500 K   Fighting Stick Figure On Hold}~

Hm, creative name... Fighting stick figure.. That would explain how they knew how to fight so well. Not as well as him, of course, but still…

Looking up to the other sticks in the room, Chosen is talking to Yellow about something or other. And he hums. Why did this corporation need them anyway? 

Add that to the list of things to talk about. 

He changes the ~{On Hold}~ to ~{On Release}~ and the circular object holding his hands together pops, and the yellow stick figure leaps up from the chair, running out of the clear white box. 

And finally, he lays a glare at Dark. 

“I’m told I shouldn't punch you.” Yellow spits out. 

Dark smirks. “You can. But the second you do, I stop helping.”

Yellow looks him up and down, “Why ARE you helping?” he crosses his arms.

Dark chuckles, clasping his hands together and holding them to his cheek, “Oh, I am just HEAD over HEELS in love with The Chosen One, I just HAVE to help,” he sighs in a loving way

The bit was worth it as Yellow blanches, looking Dark up and down, then looking back at Chosen. 

And Chosen. That was the best part. He pales in the face and clenches his fists before looking back at Yellow, “ignore him. He… he owes me.”

Yellow gulps. He doesn't have some ulterior evil motive?”

Chosen shrugs, “not one-hundred percent but.. I’ll be here to help, just in case.”

Dark hums looking back at the console. 

Chamber2.LockDownActive Holding ~{TheSecondComing.exe   Alan Becker   00   3,012 K   The Chosen One’s Return}~

Oh, you're shiting me. Well, that’s why his power hit harder.

Dark groans internally. He doesn’t know how well he could handle this. He’s able to repress the horrible shiver just seeing the damn kids NAME. let alone having to look at him. Sue him for being horrified; he’s never died before.

Dark yanks at his shoulder length, burnt hair. 

He speaks up, “I'm about to unlock that chamber.” he points to it, and Chosen nods, walking to it.

The yellow stick figure, on the other hand, hesitantly walks over to him, staring at him like some sort of bug. 

Dark looks back at him questioningly. Until the kid is right next to him, where he finally asks, “What uh- happened to your arms?”

FINALLY. Oh my cursors, “Thank you for asking. Holy shit. So when I was fucking murdered, my virabots, those little spider things, put my code back together, but since everything around me, including my bands, disintegrated, they ended up fusing to my arms, so now I can use anything my virabands can use, and-” he blinks. Looking down at the yellow stick figure. 

His eyes are wide, and not in anger, but it can’t be awe, can it? 

That's what it looks like, but clearly, Dark is horrible at reading people. “Uh. Let's get your buddy out of there.-”

“N-no!” Yellow puts his hands up, “I-I mean yes, I want to get Orange out of there! Absolutely. But-” he sighs, running his hand through his hair “this sounds crazy- I- it IS, YOU killed me. But agh.” he gestures to the console “I. If you want to talk about coding or shit like this. Then I am… willing. To temporarily forget about that- please. I am STARVED for someone to talk about this with… which sounds… pathetic.”

Dark awkwardly glances at Chosen, who was irritated by now, no doubt. “Uh- yeah sure.” Yellow smiles up at him. This was so weird. Sticks are weird. 

He types on the console Chamber2.LockDownDeactivate Releasing ~{TheSecondComing.exe   Alan Becker   00   3,012 K   The Chosen One’s Return}~

“CHKCHK CHK!”  and the Chamber walls collapse, folding in as they lower, and Chosen grasps at the bars, pulling them open.

Yellow runs away from his side. Leaps into the Chamber and knocks the Orange hollowhead down in a hug.  

Dark flinches as they both collapse to the ground. Jeez

He looks to Chosen, spreading his arms out in a mock hug, with a wicked grin. 

Chosen glares sharply at him, mouthing the word ‘Don't.’

Dark rolls his eyes as Chosen walks over to him. “Cursors forbid I want to slam you into the ground too.”

Chosen slaps Dark’s hand and whispers to him, glancing to the sticks hugging and- sobbing? In the chamber, “Dark. That is OVER. please. Stop. Once this is done. So are we.”

Dark pauses for a moment. 

“I had hoped that. Once I was free from my code. We could be. Us. again.”

Chosen looks down, glaring at his shoes. “Then you’ve severely underestimated how you’ve hurt me.”

“Even if I'm free? I'm finally.. I'm ME Cho. All that I’ve done- our fights weren't.. Wasn’t me.”

Chosen pulls at his own hair. His voice is low, and he pauses between each hurtful sentence. “That doesn’t erase what happened! It. hurt,” he sighs. Looking back at those dumb kids, he assumes to make sure they didn’t hear. “If it makes you feel better. I know it wasn't.. You. But at the same time, it. Was,” he lowers his voice so much, dark strains to hear him. “It hurts to look at you.”

Dark stares at him. Before turning to the chamber, walking over, and slamming his hands against the bars, “Let's go, assholes, there's only so much longer that The Chosen One can walk me on his leash till I'm not feeling in the mood to be a good boy, let's get the fuck out of here.” he slams his hands against the bars, punctuating every other word.

Yellow nods, pulling Orange up, before turning back to Dark, “Alright, I think we’re ready.” Orange moves to stand in front of Yellow, moving an arm to block him. 

“W-what is happening- how are you back?” he looks behind Dark to The Chosen One. “Chosen?”

Dark groans, rolling his eyes. “I’m not explaining this again. TLDR I owe The Chosen One a huge favor, so I’m helping you out of here. If EITHER of you hits me or anything, I’m out of here, and you can forget about leaving, because The Chosen One over here doesn’t have any powers anymore.”

Orange and Yellow gasp “WHAT” 

Dark rolls his eyes, turning around and shoving past The Chosen One. “Want to explain while we go? NO ONE?” Dark spits at him. He can hurt him, too 

NO ONE gulps, looking to the two kids and gesturing them to follow as the our of them leave the room. Walking in tandem with the two of them as Dark leaves the way.

It’s weird. Now that he doesn’t have to push away the need to destroy him. He still wants to hurt him. Or at least get back at him 

.

.

.

Yellow pipes up “Oh wait! Before we go, we have to get RGB!”

“Who?” Dark reluctantly asks.

Orange shouts, concerned, “RED, BLUE, AND GREEN ARE HERE TOO!?”

NO ONE squints his eyes, and Dark feels the burning of eyes on the back of his neck before he sighs, “Alright.”

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The Dark Lord and The Chosen One were in a standoff. 

For once, not in a fight, actually. 

Last night, The Dark Lord had confessed his mission code. And in response, The Chosen One confessed… feelings

The two of them hadn't.. Spoken since then. It was weird. The Chosen One was cooking, and The Dark Lord was on his laptop on the couch and- ugh. 

That's it, he has the perfect way to start talking.

He brushes his hair back with his hands before marching over to the kitchen “The CHOOOOOSENNN ONEEEE,” he leans against the other stick, draping himself on the other. 

“What..?” he responds, absentmindedly cooking the only thing he knows how to: eggs.

The Dark Lord looks up at him, head on his shoulder, “We should come up with nicknames.”

The Chosen One pauses.. “What would… why?” 

The Dark Lord huffs, “Becauseeee! I don’t want my name to be what THAT damned cursor gave me. I want it to be personal, to MEAN something more.” he sobs dramatically.

The Chosen One chuckles, plating the eggs and shrugging The Dark Lord off his shoulder. “Well… we can’t go by ‘The’ can we?”

The Dark Lord gapes at the other stick, incredulously. “Nor would I want to!” he taps his chest, where his heart would be. “Personal! Personal, I said!” he moves to sit at his seat at the kitchen island. 

.

“I guess I have an Idea for yours…” The Chosen One says after a bite.

The Dark Lord quirks his eyebrows. “For me? Not for yourself?” he smirks, “you’ve been thinkin' about me?”

The Chosen One pauses before nodding, making The Dark Lord blush. “I was thinking that… Dark suited you.. At least a little more than Lord.”

Dark gulps down a bite of eggs, trying to compose himself and die down the blushing. “Ah, I’d have to agree there, not too lord-y am I?”

The Chosen One bites back a laugh. “No- I mean.. I personally wouldn't describe you as one.”

Dark smiles, “you're not gonna hurt my feelings, I promise,” he stabs his eggs for a moment, “I guess yours is easier to come up with. ‘One’ isn’t really a name, is it?”  

The Chosen One smiles at him, “It could be if you chose it.”

Dark gapes at him for a moment. Before running a hand through his long red hair, he can't help but smile with his sharp teeth and lean back in his chair. 

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.

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“Chosen?”

“Yeah, Dark?”

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“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

HI everyone! Not a usual chapter, but I just wanted to make a chapter off of this since you all have noticed the ‘Major Character Death’ tag!

Being as transparent as I can be without spoiling ANYTHING.

Its up to you guys

Literally.

I decide how this goes, and how comments react in each chapter will determine to ME what will happen.

Basically, if a character dies it's yall’s fault

So keep commenting! And who/ if someone dies. It’ll litterally be up to your comments!

To make this clear. No it is not ‘omg kill off this character’ or ‘omg dont kill this charaacter!’

No no no

It’ll be off of how little or how much attention that character is given in the comments. Im so fr.

Anyways love you guys! On a genuine note, each comment is actual motivation to keep writing!

-Simetra

Chapter Text

Orange was. Scared to say the least, happy! Of course, he was happy; he’s finally out of that damned cell, and the darkness was really getting to him, forcing him to replay that.. Scene he saw… he grips Yellow’s hand, not willing to let him go yet..

As he falls in line with The Cho- with NO O- eugh with the black stick figure. He’s itching to talk to the other but…

His eyes drift over to The Dark Lord, who was.. Leading them all. 

Orange shivers. This whole thing was itching him the wrong way. The Dark Lord had.. Killed his friends. Almost killed HIM. He takes a deep breath. Being in this man’s radius was.. Scary enough. 

He’s lightly tapped on the shoulder. He turns to Yellow, who was walking slightly behind him.

Yellow pushes up his glasses before leaning in to Orange’s ear. “Or, you're kinda squeezing my hand a little hard right now.”

Orange jumps a bit, loosening his grip, “shit, sorry… I’m a little” he looks to The Dark Lord again “spooked” 

Yellow hums, rubbing Orange’s hand with his thumb. “Hey, it’ll be okay, Red, Blue, and Green are all here, so at the very least, they’ll be here. We all missed you, man.”

Orange blushes, slightly embarrassed. “I missed you guys, too.” Honestly, he’s been a bit.. Touch starved recently.. For good reason. . . he hasn’t missed them like this since they went off on their little nether portal adventure without him. Perks of living with four affectionate and extroverted stick figures. 

“Hey, lovebirds, can you walk a little faster? I don't want to be here for the next three years, let's go dimwits.” The Dark Lord kicks a door open, glaring at them as he walks through. 

Orange looks to the black stick figure next to him, who rolls his eyes. “Ignore him, he’s just trying to annoy you guys.”

Yellow nods, “uh yeah um- me and Orange are also not together, I just want to clarify- we’re just friends.” Orange nods.

The uh- The Chosen One raises an eyebrow. “He knocked you down into a hug.” 

Orange pulls his and Yellow's hands up where they were connected. “We’re all a very affectionate group.” The group walked past a hallway connecting to theirs.

Yellow nods, “Yeah, hugging and handholding isn’t really romantic. Is it?” Orange hears The Dark Lord scoff, and he can’t help but scowl. What did he know anyway?

They are interrupted by a repeated thudding noise coming from the hallway they had passed by now.

Orange and Yellow pause. The Chosen One pauses after a moment, and The Dark Lord keeps walking. 

“Thud Thud thud Thud”

Turning the corner was- Red?

The red stick figure had caught sight of them and was barreling towards them! 

Yellow had already widened his arms in preparation for the hug, and Orange moved to do the same, a blush rising to his face, Red was a.. Different story, he and Orange have been dating for a short while, sometime after a New Year's party. It was.. Nice, and nothing really changed with their group, which was even better.

Red is close enough to where Orange can see his bandana whipping behind him, before he pounces, trapping Yellow and himself in a hug. And they slam into the ground. Just like Yellow did with him earlier, something that Orange has long since gotten used to, and long since has been able to stop his head from slamming into the floor.

As he finally hugs Red, he can’t help the tears that brim in his eyes. Like Yellow, it’s been forever since he’s seen him, and this whole scary situation has him grateful to finally hold the other. 

Red Nuzzles his head into Yellow’s cheek, then does the same to Orange before he kisses his cheek as well. “Oh my Alan, I thought I’d never see you again!”

They break apart, and Orange holds Red’s face in his hands, taking in his appearance. 

Unlike Yellow, Red was.. Beat up to say the least, he had bruises on his face and sides, scrapes all over his knees, and he looked spooked to say the least. 

“You have no Idea how happy I am! I found you! And Yellow! And The Chosen One. Oh my ALAN! Green and Blue are gonna be so jealous Oooooo I can’t wait to see their faces, or, we snuck into some random guy's van. We were able to sneak into the facility, but then some weird tall stick with sunglasses totally cheated, and stole Yellow, but the rest of us escaped into a vent. Then we split up to cover more ground, but I thought it would be easier to search in an open area, so I jumped down. Still, I ran into some guys, and HE HAD A GUN FOR A HEAD. He actually had multiple guns, but it’s alright, I locked him inside a janitor's closet.” he gasps for air, “and then I found you guys!”

He rises to stand, before he widens his stance and freezes, “holy shit, it's the stick that killed us!?” Red grabs onto Orange and Yellow, hauling them up. “What do we do..?” he finally whispers.

The Chosen One stands awkwardly, eyes flicking over to The Dark Lord and the group. “Uh, red stick figure- we can talk later, we can’t really be… left behind right now.”

Red looks at Yellow and Orange, who nod, “uh, okay- hey, have I not introduced myself to you? You can call me Red!” 

The Chosen One nods, then walks away. 

“Okay- uh. Can someone catch me up? I think I’m out of the loop.” Red looks between his two friends, who nod.

“We’ll walk and talk, but the short of it is, The Dark Lord is temporarily helping us, because he owes The Chosen One.”

Red tilts his head. “What does he have to owe The Chosen One for? I thought they were enemies?” he scratches his head. 

And Orange hums. He hadn’t thought about that. I guess it would make sense if they had some sort of history, but The Chosen One said The Dark Lord, and he was enemies.. Maybe past that, they were friends? His head hurts.

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Orange and his friends were cleaning up after the New Year's party, picking up confetti of their own making, and Orange couldn’t help but feel.. Off. 

The others were all looking at him all day. Which was.. Concerning. He’s known his friends for over eight years now. And while he’s not as close as the four of them together. He knows when they're keeping a secret or planning something mischievous.

All he knows right now is that he needs to brace himself for who knows what kind of crazy adventure this group of sticks seems to draw to themselves. He chuckles to himself; he can’t say he totally hates it.

As he throws away the remains of a confetti canon, he looks up to see Red walking up to him, and he blushes. 

Out of all the sticks, Green was his best friend, but Red was special to him. After the long fighting from their time separated from the others, he and Red had a.. Really bad fight where.. Orange went too far and could’ve hurt him really badly.

After they had calmed down, Orange handed him a glow berry. The two sat and talked, calming down. Orange remembers admiring Red’s ability to recover and not hold a grudge, even though Orange had taken the fight too far. He remembers looking at Red’s soaked face from the water and thinking he looked beautiful; his gold eyes complemented him. 

Shaking his head, he wipes himself from his memory, as Red is finally within talking distance. 

“Hey, Orange! Made quick work of the confetti, huh?” Red dumps a pile of streamers on the floor. 

Orange rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was easy actually, I borrowed Alan’s lasso tool,” he shrugs

Red pats him on the shoulder and asks, “Hey, wanna take a break for a second? Blue told me to go and grab a glass of water, and if you want, I don’t mind the company.”

Orange nods. That seemed reasonable. He walks into their little home, holding onto Red’s hand as they get inside and head to the kitchen. Until Red pauses, making Orange stop before he could bump into the other. 

“Uh, I've got to be honest, I didn’t actually bring you in here for water.” Red squeezes Orange’s hand, not tightly but more so for reassurance. Orange squeezes back.

“Oh.. is everything okay?” It wasn’t unusual for the whole group to hold hands or ask for reassurance, but usually it’s with the others as well. Did something happen?

Red sighs and then turns to him. “Orange. For- for the last few years, I’ve been thinking about us. Not us as a group, but. You and me.” Red puts his other hand together, holding Orange’s one hand between both of his, and Orange’s face explodes into a blush. “You are.. Amazing, quick learner, great fighter, so kind, but stern when you need to be. Every day you hang out with us, even when we know you're a bit too tired for it, you get us- me. Out of trouble when I cause it. Orange, you are a great friend, but. I’d like to be more than that,” he squeezes Orange’s hand, and Orange tries his hardest not to gape at him. “Orange.. I like you. I- I think I love you.”

Orange puts his other hand to his mouth as he gasps. His vision turns blurry, and oh, Alan, he’s crying. He can’t believe it.

“Orange..?”

Oh, Alan, he has to answer. “Red..” he tries not to cry, but he sobs out his words, “Red, I love you too.” His lips tremble as Red lets go of his hand and wraps his arms around Orange’s neck. Orange does the same, wrapping his arms around Red’s waist. 

This could’ve been so sooner. He should’ve confessed as soon as he knew what he was feeling; they would have been together by now. 

Orange hiccups, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”