𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆

---〘⇯〙---

ranboo's eyes sometimes look like shattered glass and pax forgets how to breathe. it's rage, pulsing through their head, turning their vision redder than the veins beneath their skin and clogging their head with ashes.
they want to visit the prison. they want to see dream hurt.
tommy is back, and pax can almost see the way tubbo's heart shatters and bleeds, disbelief flooding through him with an aftershock of anger.

pax's rage builds and clouds their thoughts, like a geiger counter that keeps going up, the clicks increasing and going faster and-

〘⇯〙

they find an ally in this rage: a loud-mouthed man dressed in a scar and a suit. his rage is nearly buried under layers of jokes, of superficial anger. but his rage is callous and cool, as deadly as liquid helium on human skin. all that it takes is a recipient. pax would help this man let dream be that recipient.
the way they met was simple enough. pax was wandering through the smp land, wandering off from where tubbo and ranboo had continued construction on their hotel. they came across the man and he was nice, introducing himself as quackity and striking up conversation. pax didn't have much to say, so they listened. until pax asked a question about dream.
quackity froze, his jaw rigid. "ah," pax said, slowing to a stop to glance back at him. "you dislike him."
"'dislike' doesn't even begin to describe it," he spat.
"why is he still alive?" pax tilted their head.
"he has some sort of book- look, why don't we talk about something else?"
"why doesn't someone take the book and kill him?" quackity tried to meet their gaze, or where he's thought it'd be behind their mask. his expression was odd.
"the book is the only reason he's alive," quackity said, his voice careful. "he'd never give it up willingly."
pax shrugged. "no one ever said it had to be willingly." a grin spread across quackity's face as he strode towards pax. he slung and arm around pax's shoulders.
"i have a feeling you and i will get along well."