Hello people of bdhs

a 6/12 meetup of a bunch of the mods for the characters of bdhs. i think its hard sometimes to remember the people behind the accounts so i wanted to make this to show appreciation to the people who make this comminity possible.

list of people (left to right) under cut:

TG: jesus christ

TG: look man, im like 99% sure you werent this much of an asshole before

TG: hell at least you were fuckin' talkin' then - when i said i wanted you to shut the hell up i didnt mean like this

TG: and im fairly fuckin' confident in sayin' it has something to do with the creepy fuckin' puppet hangin' off your back

TG: so

TG: should probably get rid of that thing huh

TG: hand it over

@badlydrawn-alphadave

[ God, can this asshole not leave you alone for 5 minutes? Who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to take your best friend. Nobody understands. ]

[ You politely tell him to piss off by pressing your sword to his throat. Even unable to say anything the threat is clear: If he so much as lays a finger on Cal's precious head you'll chop his off. ]

[You fight back the urge to pull your sword, force yourself to keep your hands up. Try to ignore the way they're shaking almost imperceptibly. You can feel a tiny bead of blood forming already. Christ, you hate this.]

TG: im not fuckin' fightin' you man

TG: if you want to kill someone over a goddamn puppet thats your call

TG: but cmon. even you gotta know how fucked up that is

TG: i mean christ, dude, dont you have kids? cant imagine theyd be too fuckin' thrilled about all this

BRO: . . .

[ You press your sword a little further, willing away the involuntary shake of your hands. He's a threat, he's just trying to provoke you. ]

[ He'll take him if you aren't careful. You need to keep your guard up. ]

You force yourself to stand your ground, to remember to breathe even as the cold metal presses against your throat. The shake in your hands is obvious now. Even if you had your sword, you don't think you could stop him in time if he decided to go any further. Shit.]

[ . . . No . . ]

[ You pry your mouth open and-- ]

[ Nothing comes out except for a painful wheeze. Looks like Cal didn't like whatever it was you were gonna say. You should stay quiet. ]

You could just leave. You *should*. You don't owe this asshole shit, and now that his sword isn't at your throat you can finally fuckin' breathe properly, and he looks about five seconds from losing it completely. You don't want to be around when that happens.

But....

Goddamnit.

You step closer.

You keep your movements as slow as possible, moving just close enough that the sword is back at your throat. It's hard to speak with it there, even harder to keep your voice low and gentle (or as 'gentle' as *you* can be), but you try.

Your hands are shaking far too much to even try holding a sword. This is all you have.]

TG: im not leavin'. not without the puppet

TG: im not gonna hurt him. im not gonna hurt you. promise

TG: but right now? youre hurting the kids. and im not just gonna sit around and watch while that shit happens

TG: we both know those kids deserve someone who gives a shit lookin' out for them. they deserve their bro. *you*

TG: they dont deserve this

TG: ...and i dont think you do either

[ Why didn't he take the out? Why is he trying so hard? He'll get himself killed. You don't want to kill him. ]

[ You take a shaky step back with each step of his forward. Cal doesn't like this and makes his displeasure known, forcing another choked gasp out of you. You don't want to fight him, not again. You hate this, you hate this-- ]

BRO: . . . st- o p . . .

[ You force that one out through grit teeth, eyes focused on the way his blood is staining the tip of your sword. He's talking to you softly, gently. The words don't fully register no matter how much you try to listen. ]

[ It is not technically your memories. But, you can recognize your bro out of a crowd. As much as you want to call out, to speak to either of them, you are at a lost for words. Your gaze flickers between Bro and ...You actually don't know who to call him, so instead, you settle on Dirk’s Bro.]

BGD: ...?

[ You stare at Dirk’s Bro, more questions run through your head but you decide to inch closer. You have no intention on doing anything just yet, but you want to make sure all your grounds are covered. You are a strider after all. ]

TG: sorry man

TG: that aint happening. not until i-

[You spot a glimpse of movement over Bro's shoulder and freeze. Oh. Shit.

Is that...]

TG: ...dirk?

[Shit. You need to get him out, now. You can't let him get hurt-

But.

Shit.

You can't do this alone. You've got a sword to your throat, and you can barely think, not after seeing him, and... you've never been a good person. Why start now?]

TG: grab the puppet

[ Your blood runs cold when you hear that name. Dirk? Which one? Which one of your kids-- ]

[ You turn your head fast enough to give yourself whiplash. Ghost stands a little ways behind you. Still small, still confused, still scared. You thought he ran off to hide with the others, he shouldn't have come back. ]

[ Cal tells you he's a threat. He tried taking him once already, he'll try again. You can't let Ghost take him. You need to finish the Strife he began, you need . . . ]

[ You grind your teeth, jaw hurting, and tense every muscle in your body. You freeze like a statue even as Cal pulls and squeezes and orders you to do something. You stumble only a few steps back and shake your head, you keep your back to Ghost. ]

BGD: Okay.

[ A short reply before you flashstep closer to Bro. You focus your energy so your hands don't slip through the puppet, the fabric is course, it's not what you're used to. But, there is no more hesitation, you grab the puppet’s arms, struggling to remove the grip it has on your da— on your brother. ]

BGD: Let.. go, you fabergé troglodyte!

[ Listen, you don't get to throw out insults like you want to. You have the knowledge of Jake’s funky English phrases and Dirk’s... No. That was your knowledge. You're going to make your dad, your bro, whatever the hell these two men were to you proud as hell! You decide to put all of your strength into the next pull. Bro will have to kill you before he ever thinks about trying to kill your dad. ]

TG: no you fuckin' dont-

[You keep rambling on autopilot, a stream of mostly meaningless bullshit you're already mentally checked out of. Shit. Shit, that's Dirk *right fuckin' there*, and if he gets hurt-

You try to pre-emptively pull yourself out of that spiral, zone back in on whatever dumbass shit you've been talking about. Apparently you're on the same wavelength there.]

TG: ...aint even puttin' one goddamn finger on the kid - any of them, god knows how fuckin' many you got stashed away in here, shits like an episode of hoarders except instead of newspapers or somethin' no one gives a shit about its birds and dirks and-

[You've been casting anxious glances at Dirk every few moments over Bro's shoulder, just checking that he's still okay, that your plan hasn't fucked him over yet- and... he meets your gaze. And God, he looks terrified. And *fuck*, you did that to him.

You give him a single, tight nod, immediately going back to Bro to try and distract- him? Yourself? You aren't even sure.]

TG: and theyre good fuckin' kids. you know that shit just as much as i do - really preaching to the fuckin' choir here, huh - and you know they dont deserve this. not him, and not you like this

TG: you aint that much of a dumbass. i know that much

[ You breathe. Or try to, at least. You let out a breath that sounds more like a hiss. It feels like you're getting a fucking limb ripped off. ]

[ D is holding you and talking. You try taking comfort in the words even if nothing fully gets through. You don't think he really knows what he's saying either. ]

[ With the way he's holding you and panicking, it would be easy to plunge your blade into him. Easy to get D out of the way and go for the kid, keep him for yourself. Easy to remain whole, easy to stay with him, easy to be a puppet-- ]

[ . . . You're done taking the goddamn easy way out. ]

BRO: . . . I'm not . . .

BRO: . . your fuckin' . . .

BRO: puppet.

He's light, far lighter than you expected (and you hate how that worries you, even for a moment), but he's still a fully grown goddamn man. Still, you somehow manage to hold him up just for long enough to get you both down on the ground carefully.

He's sprawled against you. It's weird. You're not thinking about it.

Or how you're keeping an arm there to hold him up. You're not just gonna make him lie on the floor. You aren't fuckin' heartless.]

TG: christ. okay. im just- im assuming this asshole pulling a sleeping beauty is a good thing and isnt just-

TG: fuckin' puppet life support. thats goddamn stupid. that aint a thing. not like hes dead. got a pulse. can hear him breathin'. better not drool on my leg you goddamn prick-

[You suddenly realise that your worried mumbling to yourself is, in fact, *not* to yourself. That you have an audience watching you act like a dumbass. That it's *Dirk*.

Shit.]

TG: shit

TG: shit- kid. drop the fuckin' puppet - im not dealin' with this shit again

[Way to go, dumbass. That's exactly what you want the first real thing you've said to the kid to be.]

BGD: ..?!

[ You drop the puppet, watching as it’s presumably lifeless body flops into the ground. You have the urge to kick it, but you know it would just go right through it currently. You let yourself land on the ground, cautiously making your way over before you settle right next to Bro. You glance up at your bro through the shades. ]

BGD: Yeah, man. I'm fine. I think? I'm not entirely sure— I feel like I just went through a goddamn episode of the real house wives of Beverly hills and some chick just tried to deck me for taking her fake ass purse.

[ It seems the rambling is genetic. You bring your legs up to your chest, letting your chin rest on your knees. It seems.. awkward. You have always wanted to talk to your bro, to meet the man behind the movies but this seems different. Is he really your dad? Or a memory you share.]

BGD: Is he going to be alright? We didn't just death note him, did we?

[ Maybe that wasn’t the best question to ask. You know that striders always bounce back regardless of what they go through. Oh— wait! There's something you've wanted to do for awhile now. You practically jolt up, awkwardly stepping over Bro to stand infront of D. You hesitate, possibly rethinking your decision over. ]

TG: hopefully. not like the puppet was fuckin' tied to his life or some shit. just gotta... sleep it off

[God, you hope you're right.

You haven't looked at Dirk yet. You've been too busy keeping an eye on Bro, watching his breathing to make sure the asshole doesn't just up and die on you out of nowhere (which definitely isn't an excuse to avoid looking at Dirk. No way.)

So when he leans in, it... admittedly scares the shit out of you for a moment. You flinch, nearly shoving Bro out of your lap, and barely hold yourself back from going for your sword.

It takes you a moment to realise that it's just Dirk. It takes you a moment longer to realise what he's doing, and what *you* should be doing.

You don't think you deserve this. You sure as hell don't, actually, but... he does. And when you hesitantly pull him into a hug with your free arm, it feels... right.]

[ You're surrounded by warmth and being held securely. You feel movement from above you. ]

[ You're exhausted, drained of all energy and your body hurts. You've got a killer migraine too. It takes all of your will power to be even semi conscious. ]

[ Your family is here with you. That's nice. Good. You're . . glad. ]

[ You heave a shuddering sigh, letting your eyes fall closed again and slump a little further onto your brother. Your arms feel like lead but you muster up just enough strength to reach for his hand and give it a small squeeze. ]

[ Its not the most comfortable arrangement, but it's family. ]

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