>>5113775
THE TIME HAS COME
AND SO HAVE I

Welcome back, OP-sama!

>>5113775
Welcome back OP!

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeriseSoliloquy
Fuck Quest master index (including seasons 1-4 of the original quest): https://www.op-studios.net/fq
Fuck Quest lewd index: https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewds

Wesley's Bizarre Adventure lewds (content not allowed on /qst/ will go here): https://www.op-studios.net/fq-wba-lewds

Episode 1 ("Wesley's Bizarre Adventure"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4723649
Episode 2 ("How Heavy are the Softballs You Pitch?"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4753308
Episode 3 ("Read or Die"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4797605
Episode 4 ("Winter Wars"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4827485
Interlewd ("Tantric Ona Milky Homes"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4842453
Episode 5 ("Ass Class"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4867318
Episode 6 ("Fuck/stay night"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4892581
Episode 7 ("Unthinkable Natural Law"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4921745
Episode 8 (">[x] WAKE UP, Girls!"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4949361
Episode 9 ("Yuri Camp"): https://archived.moe/qst/thread/4983284

---

AND NOW, EPISODE 10 OF WESLEY'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE:
"If it's for My Daughter, I'd Even be a Demon Lord"

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FUCK YEEEEAAAAAA

LET'S GOOOOO

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April 23, 20xx

Bedraggled but glowing, Noelle pulls her gown aside, holds the newborn to her breast, and feeds the child for the first time. As Alabaster enters the hospital room he gives a gentle rap on the door to announce himself. Noelle shushes him with a forefinger to her lips and motions with her head to indicate that the baby is at peace and shouldn't be disturbed.

The sex was a secret: a pink blanket swaddled around the baby is how Alabaster finally learns it. "That's her, huh," he says softly.

Noelle gives him a look. "No. I decided to practice breastfeeding on someone else's baby first."

Alabaster stares mutely down at this shivering thing he created, moonstruck.

"Go ahead," Noelle says after a turn, pulling the child's lips from her breast and offering the bundle to him. Alabaster takes it into his arms with an overabundance of caution. He never got comfortable holding babies. He rocks her back and forth and takes in her pugnosed, wrinkly face.

Then remembering something, he tells Noelle, "Kay's still laid over in Cyprus. She won't be back until tomorrow if we're lucky."

"That's fine."

Alabaster raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you serene. That epidural must have done wonders."

"Ohhh yeah."

The baby fusses a bit, so Alabaster turns his attention back to her. "She have a name yet?"

"Wesley."

Alabaster pauses, and then pulls the blanket back to peek beneath it and confirm that the pink meant what he thought it did.

"Kay had her heart set on it," Noelle says. "Of course -- she was sure it would be a boy. But she still likes Wesley for a girl, too. I wasn't gonna go along with it... but I felt so bad about how she was caught overseas when I went into labor, and..."

"You're going to name our daughter Wesley because Kay just had to be on location in Turkey during a revolution while you were eight months pregnant?"

Noelle shrugs, and parts the damp hair from her face.

"That epidural really did a number on you."

"Ohhh yeah."

Alabaster shakes his head. He turns in a half circle to sit in a chair beside Noelle's hospital bed. "Well, Wesley. You just had to get to the world as soon as possible, didn't you? Congratulations. You played yourself." He glances over at Noelle. "She's heavy. Especially for a preemie."

"You don't need to tell me. You try giving birth to that thing. She could have come another month early." She sighs. "Soliloquy woman genes in there. For sure. Little fucker's gonna be a dumptruck when she grows up."

"How do you feel?"

"Better now. Kind of lightheaded."

Alabaster smiles. "Light in general. I'll miss the baby bump."

"Perv."

>>5113790
Adorable

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Wesley's really fussy now, so Noelle reaches out. "Give her here." She takes Wesley from Alabaster's hands and soothes her fussing by breastfeeding her again. Alabaster watches with naked interest. Noelle is unimpressed. "I know what you're thinking."

"What?"

"You can just forget about it. Okay? I'm sure you get enough from your cow of a wife already. She'll still be lactating when Amber's in kindergarten the way you act."

"Well. A diverse diet is important, you know."

"Uh huh."

Alabaster leans back in his chair and stares at the low tile ceiling. "Think they'll let you go home soon?"

This doesn't get any answer, even after he repeats himself, so he finally sits forward again and looks at Noelle. She's doing a bad job of sniffling back tears. When she sees that she's been seen, she does an equally bad job of hiding the tears by wiping them with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong?"

"What? I'm fine. They'll probably discharge me tomorrow morning."

"Noelle."

She can barely bring herself to look at him, and fakes a smile through the tears that are flowing freely. "Childbirth is such bullshit, you know? It fucks your homrmone balance all up. I'm fine."

Alabaster reaches over the bed's rail to clasp and stroke her hand. He's a bit dismayed that this only makes Noelle's crying even worse.

"I hope this wasn't a mistake," she says.

"It wasn't."

"I don't want her to be the black sheep. You won't be absent, right? You'll be a part of her life. Right?"

"Of course. We agreed to that--"

"You have to love her just like you love your other two. She can't think you love them more just because they live with you. Promise me."

Alabaster imposes himself on Noelle a little and takes Wesley in his arms again. He bounces her on his knee. "I love her," he promises. "I can't even say how much. I don't have words. I thought that I'd be used to it after the first two, but I still can't believe I can love someone as much as this. And I feel so lucky... like you wouldn't believe, that... Wesley's in the world with us right now. I was worried sick the whole time you were pregnant -- and when you went into labor so early..." He sighs. "I haven't slept since yesterday."

"Good. That's... good," Noelle croaks.

"Do you hear that?" Alabaster asks Wesley. "Daddy loves you. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you."

Wesley burps at him.

"Does she have a middle name too? Abraham? Carl? Fred?"

"We... didn't think that far ahead."

Alabaster amuses the baby by wagging his finger back and forth in front of her face. She tracks it to and fro, her eyes gleaming. "At least give her a girl's middle name, then," he mutters absently up at Noelle. "Then I can call her by that and try to forget you perpetrated such a crime on her with her first name."

"You'll get used to Wes. I did."

Alabaster glances at her. "How about Lynn? For a middle name."

"Wesley Lynn Keki?"

"Yeah."

Noelle considers it.

"It's nice," she says.

OP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Atvsg_zogxo

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"...minister pledged that Breentry will continue apace regardless of Brussels nixing the latest attempt at a compromise on the Schengen area, but faltered explaining precisely how during questions."

"Now for international news. Fatalities from the ARkStorm that recently hit the American west coast have topped 15,000, while property damage has been estimated at $1.5 trillion. BBC-Sky1 Los Angeles correspondent Andrew Wild reports."

[helicopter rotors audible over aerial footage]

WILD: "The loss of life: unimaginable. The devastation: total."

[woman wiping away tears from the side of her face with a flattened palm]

"The water just came rushing in... one minute he was there and the next -- he was -- he was gone... and I don't understand... why -- whyyy? Just... why?"

WILD: "As the death toll climbs to 15,000 with doubtless thousands more to come, America reels. Whole cities washed away literally overnight. Livelihoods lost. And the blow to the economy is nigh incalculable, sure to be felt for decades, with lowest estimates in excess of trillion dollars."

WILD: "US Congressional representative Cerise Soliloquy, still on the mend from gunshots sustained in a failed assassination attempt, toured her hometown of Gilroy, California to survey the damage. Her district is among the worst hit."

[Wild trudges through waterlogged rubble with a woman in a blazer. The woman winces from pain at each step. She stops to look around, and then points.]

SOLILOQUY: "Oh. This here -- this is where my high school was."

WILD: "This is where you went to school?"

SOLILOQUY: "Yeah. Yeah, North High. It's gone now."

WILD: "It's rubble."

SOLILOQUY: "Gilroy itself -- basically all of it."

[Soliloquy stands at a podium in front of a blue curtain before flashbulbs and shouted questions.]

SOLILOQUY: "FEMA's been great. National guard, state national guard, the recovery effort is just... tireless."

REPORTER IN CROWD: "Will there be financial compensation for survivors who lost their homes and belongings?"

SOLILOQUY: "I had a very generous phone call with the President earlier. He was -- very generous. He said: 'basically, you have an open checkbook. Ask for what you need, it's yours.' So we'll be assessing exactly what we need. The first priority right now though is recovering survivors. We can't work on the long term until that process plays out. But I won't take anything off the table."

REPORTER IN CROWD: "Is it true that your niece Ophelia is missing?"

SOLILOQUY: "No further questions."

>>5113812
North High really can't catch a break, huh.

> Breentry

Oh, look who came crawling back…

>>5113801
You're a good lad, Ally.

>>5113812
Aaannd we're back in the Big Fucking OOF.

>>5113801
;w;

>>5113812
;_;

>>5113812
Opheliaaaaaaaaa

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Gideon lights up a smoke as Winter stands at the edge of the rowboat. "Watch this," she tells him over her shoulder.

"I'm watching."

Winter frowns when she sees the glowing cherry. "Really, daddy? Put the cancer stick out."

He puts it out for her.

"Now watch this," she repeats.

"I'm watching."

She turns her attention back to the mirror-smooth surface of the lake, now penetrated by the glinting nylon thread of her fishing line. She waits. And waits. And waits.

"They were biting like crazy yesterday," Winter insists. "I totally freaking klobbered Summer at our fishing contest."

"Oh really?" Gideon says. "That's not how she told it."

"Yeah, well. She's a liar. So." A period passes of nothing but birdcall on the distant shore to keep them company. "I don't know why they aren't biting today..." Winter grumbles.

Gideon motions for the rod. "Give it a little wriggle once in a while. Like I taught you. See? Ring the dinner bell."

"Right."

Winter takes the rod back and tries again.

"You should be nicer to your sister," Gideon tells her, resettling himself in the boat. "Or a day'll come when you look back on things and wish you had."

"Sure."

"It's true. You know -- you don't choose your family, but that's what makes them so special."

"What? That doesn't make any sense."

Gideon shrugs. Winter begins to say something else, but cuts it off in a choke of surprise when she feels a bite. She pulls way back and tugs on the rod, reeling it, smiling stupidly. "There we go! The big one!" She cries. The boat rocks with the excitement of Winter's erratic reeling. Gideon holds on to either side. At last she pulls the hooked fish from the lake, splashing them both in the process. She doesn't care at all, and holds the thing up high by the slack in the line so that its scales greenly catch the sunlight. "I got it! I got it! Did you see?"

Gideon gingerly lets go of the sides of the boat and leans in to inspect it. "Crappie," he says.

Winter blinks.

"You caught yourself a crappie," Gideon tells her.

Only then she realizes the meager size of the catch. She uses the line to turn the fish slightly toward herself. "...Crappie," she repeats. She watches it flop its hind fin as it struggles on the hook. "Crappy."

She unhooks it and tosses it back from whence it came. "Next one, though. Is the big one," she promises.

"Dad! Hey Dad!!"

Gideon startles and turns towards the sound of Summer's voice hooting at them from the shoreline. Fearing the worst, he reaches surreptitiously for the weapon tucked in his back pocket. But Summer isn't fleeing some unseen danger, or otherwise particularly alarmed in any way. Gideon sighs. This time he doesn't let Winter's judgmental glare stop him from lighting up. "What?" He calls back with the cig between his lips.

Summer cups her hands to her mouth. "Row your butts back over here! We're going home today!"

>>5113824
That is a very menacing picture. Winter's gonna obliterate those fish, huh?

Welcome back OP!

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When K-Mom takes a nap break in the back room, N-Mom takes over driving the Winnebago, and you sit in the passenger seat beside her to while away the long, depressing drive back to Palo Alto.

"I'm putting you on birth control," N-Mom says.

"What? Why?"

She takes a long moment before answering, during which she stares at you like you sprouted a third head. "Wesley, I'm not calling you a slut. But you're taking enough dick lately to build a new Space Needle out of it."

"Too soon," you say.

"It's been more than a dec-- you don't even remember 5/31. So what's it to you? Don't change the subject."

"I remember. And -- anyway, I've only had sex with two boys..."

"FOUR penises!" N-Mom shouts, holding up her fingers to show the count. "At least!"

Will pokes his head into the RV's central aisle and peers towards you and N-Mom, confused, but grinning stupidly at her outburst.

Lily gets in on it too: "Gotcha. And what do you want for lunch, Wes?"

N-Mom blushes, clears her throat, and calms down, eyes on the road again. "Four penises," she whispers at you.

"Well, you know..." You mumble. "Two, four... my point stands. It's not a lot"

"Oh, that's a relief," she hisses. "Because it takes five penises to make a girl pregnant. I see you've been paying attention in sex ed."

"I'll take the pill. All right? Geez." You prop your elbow on the window and watch the countryside rolling past.

"We have enough going on lately, is what I'm saying. We don't need teen pregnancy in the mix."

It feels like at least an hour passes before you muster the courage to ask what's on your mind.

"Are we gonna be safe when we get home?"

N-Mom shakes her head. "Assuming we still have a home to get back to? -- I suppose so."

"You suppose?"

"Alabaster says we're okay. That the psychos aren't after us anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Maybe life can get back to normal now."

"Did he find Ophie?"

N-Mom, tellingly, doesn't answer.

>>5113837
Wesley took four penises. That's as many as four ones. And that's hot.

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You get back to California in the evening. The floodwaters are already receding, but many of Palo Alto's surface streets are still unnavigable. You encounter a number of traffic-jammed detours that make your route circuitous and tedious. The whole city is swarming with rescue operations, and you pass several refugee camps on your way home. It's surreal, and somewhat hellish, and it makes dropping off your passengers one-by-one all the more bittersweet.

When Lily goes to disembark the RV, Tyrus helps her the rest of the way out of the Winnebago by tugging her ear. She hollers and curses. Marquis laughs.

Bosphorus Rare Books is largely unscathed, save for a couple street-facing windows blown out by high winds, and some water damage to the books nearest by. Olivia hops out of the RV eager to set about the cleanup. "The warding spell worked!" She yells, enthused, clapping her hands. (You're skeptical, to say the least. Then again, a neighboring store has had its roof caved in by a fallen tree, and another store across the street was looted.)

"Thanks for letting us come," Amelia tells you softly, remembering her manners where Olivia didn't.

"Anytime."

She glances back at Olivia, who's busy unlocking the front entrance. Weirdly, Amelia seems almost reluctant to join her. "I'm so sorry for the trouble I've put you through."

"It's not your fa--"

"We have ways to make you pay us back," K-Mom tells her, leering. "Come over soon and you can make your first installment." N-Mom nudges her hard in the ribs. K-Mom lurches in place. "Ow! You're the only one who can get some? Fuck you too, then."

Despite K-Mom's propositions, it's you who Amelia kisses on the lips before leaving.

Casa Denali also survived the storm. The sprawling backyard is flooded, but the house itself, situated on higher ground, is fine.

"Don't be a stranger," Liz tells you. "Our doors are open."

"Way open," Summer agrees, stepping out onto the concrete drive. She turns in surprise, whipping her hair wildly, as she notices her pet tortoise shambling across the lawn. "Shemp! How the hell did you get out! Why I oughtta..." She jogs over to meet him and pull him into a turtley embrace.

Winter is much slower to leave. She looks forlornly back at her father while her mother pulls the luggage from the storage compartments on the side of the RV. "Aren't you coming, too?" She asks.

"I'd better not," he says, apologetic, watching Liz through the open door.

Liz, stepping back with baggage-laden arms, peers back at him. There's a moment of indecision there before she offers: "It's been a long drive, though, and... I don't want you to overstay the Kekis' hospitality. Why don't you come into the kitchen and get a bite to eat."

Winter's face lights up. Gideon's smile is subtler, but it's definitely there.

>>5113855
>Despite K-Mom's propositions, it's you who Amelia kisses on the lips before leaving.

CUTE

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"Where are we taking you?" K-Mom asks Will.

"Uhh. My mom's still mad I went camping and stuff without her permission," he says. "Also, my house got kind of destroyed."

"Burying the lede there," Amber says. Will shrugs.

"So where are you guys gonna stay?" Auburn asks.

"Government's putting us up at a Motel 6."

"Nonsense," Amber says. "You're staying with me."

"I think your father might have some choice words about that," Aunt Vivian says. She glances Will over from head to toe. "So would I."

"Don't make me choke you out with these handcuffs. I'll fucking do it."

"You're welcome to try."

"You shouldn't let her treat you like that," Auburn says. To which Vivian replies: "don't tell me how to manage my niece. I've been practicing it a lot longer than you. And with more success."

"Just saying. She's way more--" Auburn stops, his pocket buzzing. He picks up the call. "Mom? Yeah, I'm okay. We just got back to town. I'll be home s-- ... what?" As if pushed by an invisible force, he sits at one of the tables near the RV's passenger-side window and listens intently. "Yeah -- yeah, no -- I... I understand. Of course. You're there now? ... Yeah. I'll see you soon." He hangs up.

"Bad news from cult mommy?" Amber asks.

Auburn swallows hard. "Our house is gone."

Amber can't think of anything witty. "Oh."

Auburn looks up at her. "Your mother... told my mother... that we could live in your house until we're back on our feet."

"...Oh."

Amber gropes her way to the seat across from Auburn and sits -- same invisible force pushing her. Her left wrist, still chained to Vivian, dangles in the air like a flag at half-mast. She and Auburn stare at a nothing on the table between them, equally dazed.

"I really hate my mom," Amber says.

"I hate mine too..."

"Well, shit," Will says. "I guess I'd better stay at your place after all. Keep the two of you from first degree murdering each other."

"Viv, could you uncuff me, please."

Vivian reluctantly does as asked. And although Amber's wrist is red and swollen, as she pulls it to her breast and rubs it, she doesn't even look at it, just stares in shellshock straight ahead, contemplating life under the same roof as Raisin Brant.

>>5113855
>She jogs over to meet him and pull him into a turtley embrace.
To what manner of embrace do we ascribe the quality of turtliness?
CUTE

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At Oakfield Apartments, K-Mom pulls the Winnebago up to a parking spot near the unit where Talia lives. You can see, through the window, the landing where Dad got shot. Talia's front door is still splintered with buckshot holes left behind by Buridan's gun. She can see it, too, and she spends a long time sitting in place watching that spot. She's utterly silent and blank-faced.

"Are you gonna be all right going back in there?" You ask, nudging her.

She snaps out of her reverie. "Hm? Yes. Of course."

She stands and smooths her shirt.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

Talia nods.

[ ] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.
[ ] She doesn't want you to make a big deal out of it. Let her go back to her apartment.

>>5113867
>[x] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.

Nail House 2.0, baybee. No haremite left behind

>>5113867
>[x] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.

Snuggybear ;w;

>>5113867
>[X] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.
How about we don't let the crazy cultist assassin guy's sister out of our sight for a while

>>5113867
>[X] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.
Oh, the fun we'll have

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>[x] Take a page from Amber's playbook, and offer her the chance to live in your house for a little while.

"You could come stay at our place," you say.

"Uh?" K-Mom snaps. "Oh yeah. I forgot about how we gave Wes permission to sublet the house."

"Kay," N-Mom chides. "You're more than welcome to stay for a few weeks," she tells Talia.

Talia glances around the Winnebago. "...Thank you," she manages. "But I wouldn't want to impose. I've done enough of that already. I... couldn't even pay you."

"We're rich," you tell her. "You don't need to pay us."

She frowns. "I'm grateful. But I simply couldn't. I have -- and -- well, anyway, I don't need to. My apartment made it through the storm just fine. I'll see you in class, Wes."

She steps past you and towards the door.

"Floor it," you say.

N-Mom presses the button that locks all doors and windows. K-Mom puts the RV into reverse. The whole interior lurches as she pulls away from the curb.

Talia isn't prepared for any of this. The sudden motion makes her stumble. She spins around and bumps into you, and you awkwardly try to arrest her fall. You nearly go toppling with the effort of it yourself.

It doesn't take her long to regain her balance. Nor you. But she keeps her face pressed to your shoulder anyway, her arms around your midsection, her nose tickling your collarbone. This wordless embrace as the RV leaves the apartment complex in the rearview is about all the relief that Talia is able to bring herself to outwardly express.

>>5113889
Taliaaaaa ;_;

>>5113889
Snuggling with Snuggy Bear ;_;

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Aunt Rose and Dad are there to greet you when you get back to your neighborhood, standing out front by their driveway. Aside from the wet earth all around, and the blanket of leaves covering the ground, and the overbearing smell of fresh rainfall, you can hardly tell a natural disaster struck. You're lucky, you know.

The two of them are overcome with joy to see you, pulling you and Amber alike into enormous hugs. Dad, despite the bandage around his midsection that you can feel through his shirt, squeezes you hard enough to compress all the air from your lungs.

"Let go of me, Mommy," Amber grunts. She pushes away from Rose, practically fuming: "where's Ophie, huh? Where's Mom?"

"They're safe," Rose promises.

"Bullshit. Prove it. Show me proof, or I swear to god I'll--"

"Jesus Christ." Dad pulls out a phone and dials a number. He hands it over to Amber. "Talk to her yourself."

Amber snatches the phone and puts it to her ear. "Hello? ... Ophie? Is that--" she collapses in a puddle of limbs, almost weeping, and begs: "oh my god. Are you okay?" You step closer, scared. Amber looks up at you. "It's her. She's all right." She puts the phone on speaker.

"Ophie?" You ask.

"Hello Wesley. How was Colorado?"

"Where the fuck are you?" Amber demands.

"I am with Noah. At his house."

"You're with that psychotic fuck Abrams?" Amber screams. Dad waves his hand and shakes his head, trying to get Amber to calm down, but of course she won't. "Get the fuck out of there! Right now! I'm coming to get you--"

"There is no need to worry," Ophie insists. "Mom is here with me to keep me safe. Mr. Abrams just wants to get me up to date on his research."

"What are you talking about?" Amber says.

"Pop agreed to buy his company. Mr. Abrams wants me to work on his AR project for him once he hands it over to Darkbloom Enterprises."

"What? You--"

"I should be home later tonight. We can catch up then."

"Dad... okayed this?" you manage, looking at him reproachfully. You can hardly process what you're hearing.

"Yes. It's okay, Wesley," she says. You hear her faintly as she says, "excuse me a moment, Noah." Then after some rustling -- Ophie going into another room -- she tells you, "I know full well that Mr. Abrams is an insane megalomaniac. It isn't news. I have my wits... I have Mom to protect me... Pop is here, too... and of course, I'm involved with his son, which is collateral to a man like him. I will be all right. And you will be safe. That is our deal."

"The deal?" You say.

"We will pick up Mr. Abrams's work where he left it off. In return, he has instructed his followers to leave our family alone."

Amber lets the palm holding the phone fall upturned to the damp grass, her jaw slightly parted. Rose tries to console her by rubbing her shoulder, but she bats her away.

"This is my fault," Amber mutters.

"I suppose he was going to pursue this outcome regardless," Ophie says. "Perhaps you only hastened it."

>>5113905
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh man.

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"Come home soon, okay?" You say.

"Of course. You be safe as well." She hangs up.

Amber leaps to her feet. She points at Dad. "Youuuuu -- you SOLD your own daughter to that... that..."

"I have a plan," Dad tells her.

"Fuck that! Fuck you! Don't even -- LOOK at me --" she backs off and, unable to put her rage into words, she storms inside.

Rose purses her lips. Dad massages his brow.

"Yo, is this a bad time to ask if I can live with you guys?" Will asks. "My house got wrecked."

Rose half-heartedly motions at the front door. Will grabs his meager belongings from inside the RV and hurries after Amber.

"I warned you she would take this news poorly," Aunt Vivian says. "Shall I go try and talk sense into her?"

Dad nods.

Auburn is less understanding than Vivian. "You completely capitulated to every demand he had," he says. "Do you really think we'll all be safe just because you let Ophelia--"

Dad couldn't take his anger out on Amber, but he has no problem taking it out on Auburn. He grabs Auburn's collar in a balled fist, then uses his forearm to push Auburn through a semicircle and up against a tree. Auburn's head bangs hard against the tree bark.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Dad tells him through gritted teeth. He's wincing a bit himself, still in pain from his recently healed wound. He presses hard against Auburn's chest. "You better yourself under my roof."

"Or what?" Auburn says.

"Excuse me?"

"Watch myself under your roof or you'll do what," Auburn repeats.

Dad shoves Auburn to the side, and he nearly topples over. Auburn catches himself with one hand against the ground to halt the downward momentum. He springs upright again, ready to fight. Dad circles around to loom over him. But Rose interposes herself between the two before it can turn uglier.

"Go inside," she says. "You're in the third room on the left, upstairs."

He tugs on his shirt to straighten it out, turns, and departs. Dad watches him go with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Too many swinging dicks in one house," K-Mom mumbles. Then, glancing over at Talia: "no offense."

"My dick doesn't swing too much," Talia assures her. She slinks past and calls for Dad: "Mr. Soliloquy."

He turns, and his mood doesn't get any brighter when he sees Talia on his lawn. "Oh. You."

Talia flinches, but finds her mettle again quickly. "I'm... very sorry about my brother. What he did. You've every right to be angry with me."

"Huh?" Dad says, taken aback. "I'm not mad about that. I'm mad that you're having sex with my daughter."

"Oh." Talia says. Then after a beat, she adds, "I categorically deny it."

Dad looks at the Moms. "Do you guys know about this?"

"Do we," K-Mom says.

"Well she categorically denies it," N-Mom says. "So."

Dad shakes his head, but leaves it at that. He goes inside.

Aunt Rose furrows her brow and asks Talia, "I'm sorry. Did you say something a swinging--"

Talia gazes silently back.

"It was nice talking," Rose says, flustered, and follows her husband inside.

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There's a bunnygirl waiting for you in your living room.

"Here's your doggy okay!" Samantha says as she shoves Guy back into K-Mom's loving arms. "I fed and washed her and kept her lots of company!"

K-Mom rocks Guy back and forth and scritches her under the chin and coos. "Who's a stupid little mutt? You are. Yes you are."

"Thank you, Sam, really -- you're such a lifesaver," N-Mom says.

"Mm hmm!" She agrees.

N-Mom pats her on the head between her bunny ears. This is strange enough, but the way Samantha warms to it by balling her fists and scrunching up her nose is just too much.

Talia is leaning progressively further to one side, staring at Samantha's fluffy tail. Finally, unable to compel herself not to, she reaches for it.

"Ow!" Samantha squeaks, jumping forward. She wheels on her assailant. "Please don't pull on that! It hurts a lot!"

Whatever Talia is thinking, she keeps it to herself, and her poker face is as good as ever.

"Loooong story," K-Mom assures her.

"So I gather," Talia says, and heads for the guest bedroom where she'll be staying for the foreseeable future.

"And! I finished your counters while you were gone!" Samantha says, proud of her work. She points at the new, beautiful black slate counters by the kitchen area.

K-Mom whistles. "Damn. Why did we ever bother hiring contractors?"

Samantha beams. "I'm glad you like it! It was the least I could do!" The Moms tour the renovated kitchen, running their palms along the new counters. Samantha, watching on, grows suddenly anxious and says, "I already ate dinner, and... I did a lot of work... and it's getting dark, so I should go home -- okay?"

But N-Mom lunges forward and grabs Samantha by the shoulders. "You're right. It's late. And I know a certain bunny who deserves extra snuggles tonight."

Samantha giggles. "Wellll... I wouldn't say no!"

N-Mom jerks her head towards the upstairs master bedroom, signaling for K-Mom to join her.

>>5113940
god, me, etc.

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You haven't been in your bedroom since the morning Amber dragged you away to get nearly murdered by cultists. Lying on top of your mattress, swathed in dark and quiet, watching the rotating blades of your ceiling fan, you feel ill at ease.

You think about maybe watching some anime, but the idea just makes you more tired, so you put it off.

Maybe you could hop into a lobby for some pub action. If Tyrus hasn't completely stripped Lily's bedroom of all her earthly possessions, you could team with her and smurf a little in the lower divisions to blow off steam.

Too much effort.

Amber called a few minutes ago to let you know that Ophie's home safe. Aunt Cerise is back in town too, along with Riley. You do miss him.

Maybe you should just sleep. But you're restless and fidgety, and somehow the last place in the world you want to be right now is in your bedroom.

[ ] Go see if Talia is as restless as you.
[ ] Ask your Mommies if you can sleep with them tonight.
[ ] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

>>5113926
>"Oh." Talia says. Then after a beat, she adds, "I categorically deny it."
Lmao, muh based Talia

>>5113940
D'aww, muh based Smatters

I really missed this

>>5113951
>[x] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.
I wanna give Riley noogies.

>>5113951
Oh fuck

Uhh

UHH

>[x] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

This was a tough choice, but I miss Riley too

>>5113951
>[x] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

>>5113951
>[ ] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

>>5113951
>[X] Go see if Talia is as restless as you.
Teach could use some comfort, I'm sure.
I would be okay with the sisters though. VERY okay...

>>5113951
> [X] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

>>5113951
>[X] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

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>[x] Go across the street to see your sisters and your cousin.

"Moms! I'm going over to Dad's!"

You wait at the foot of their door for a response. Through peals laughter, N-Mom manages to squeak out: "don't be gone long! We're -- oh fuck -- Sam, just stop a sec -- we're ordering piz-- fffff -- fffuck!"

"Ouch! Don't bite okay! Please, Master Kay!"

"Then stop being so fucking biteable!"

Ugh. You hurry downstairs.

On your way out, though, you notice the backyard lights on through the patio door. Talia is out there, nude it appears, in the jacuzzi. Her back is to you, her arms spread wide along the jacuzzi's outer lip. She's staring at the night sky.

As if she knows you're watching, she draws her arms back in and disappears under the surface of the water. She stays submerged just long enough to make you start to worry, and then she rises back out and resumes her languid repose, her hair now matted and dripping. She finds the nearby console that lets her control the color of the underwater lights, and fiddles with them, taking them through a whole spectrum of pinks, blues, turquoises, and oranges before settling on a vivid indigo. It makes her look like something transported to the present day from the darkest depths of the 1990s.

You leave her to her solitary solace and go to your father's house.

>>5113975
Damn, that jacuzzi experience sounds really fuckin comfy.

Though desu nothing sounds more comfy than sex with Smatters

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Ophie greets you just beyond the front door. She mechanically holds her arms out like a nutcracker asking for upsies.

"Do you... actually want a hug, or are you just assuming that I want one?" You ask as you tug your shoes off in the foyer.

"If you are fine dispensing with physical displays of affection, then I am as well," she says.

"Yeah."

Ophie lets her arms down again.

"I will make a verbal display of affection, then," she says. "I am glad to see you. I love you, Wesley."

You stammer a reply. "M-me too. Love you, I mean. We were all really worried."

She closes the distance between you with two swift steps and wraps her arms around you. You startle. "Ophie?"

Her voice is muffled by your body. "Apologies. I couldn't dispense with it after all."

When she finally breaks the hug, you crane your neck and look down the front hall. "Is Riley still up?"

"Mm."

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Aunt Anna is sitting on the floor of the living room with Riley. She has her legs and arms wrapped around him. She absentmindedly strokes his hair while they both read some E-book -- Riley holding the tablet, Anna reading from over his head.

"You're gonna mess him up," Amber tells her, stepping to the pair.

"...what" Anna says.

"If you keep coddling him like that, he's gonna grow up maladjusted. True fact."

She haltingly pulls her hands away from his hair. He hardly notices, too absorbed in the book. "do you really think," Anna asks her.

Amber nods gravely. "Yeah. You don't want the kid going Norman Bates on us, do you?"

Anna leans in and tells Riley, "mommy's going to go check on dinner. stay put."

"Huh? Okay," he says, as Anna rises and goes into the kitchen.

Amber wastes no time swooping in and taking Anna's spot. She wraps her legs around Riley and starts petting his hair just as Anna did. "Sucker," she snickers to herself.

Riley smiles back at her. "You smell really nice, Amber. And your hair is really pretty today."

She laughs. "Use that one on the chicks at school. You'll have more girlfriends than Daddy does."

"Ew," he says, and returns to reading.

Amber rolls her eyes at you. "Little baka doesn't know he's a heartbreaker yet."

>>5113986
Cute!

>>5113975
Ah, what could've been...

>>5113986
This is extremely rude, and adorable

>>5113982
>>5113986
This episode is reaching dangerous levels of cute

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"So what is this project that Abrams wants you working on?" You ask Ophie, settling in beside Amber and Riley.

"A state of the art augmented reality platform residing in a permanent ocular implant. Here." She pulls a long, thin wire from her breast pocket, at the end of which dangles a silicon grain.

"Show me that thing again and I swear to god I'll burn it," Amber snarls.

Ophie puts it away.

"He wants me to complete it, with help from the Bests -- Mr. and Mrs. Best, I mean -- and Noah, also."

"Why?" You ask.

"He says it is his life's work. And he believes it will make the world a better place."

"Well, he's a cultist," you say, rather obviously.

"That is rather obvious."

(What she said.)

"Do not worry," Ophie tells you. "I know what I am dealing with."

"Do you?" Amber asks.

Ophie ignores that. "Abrams calls it Panopt. I really dislike that. Pop had a much better suggestion for a name... but papa really did not like that one... so for the time being, it is simply the grain."

"Can I see?" Riley asks, looking up from his reading.

Ophie reaches for her pocket.

"I have a lighter," Amber reminds her.

Ophie pauses. "Maybe later," she tells Riley. That satisfies him. He goes back to reading.

>>5114009
>Abrams calls it Panopt.
Gosh, that's not even a little dystopian!

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That's all for tonight. I'll come back with something lewd tomorrow night. What would you like to see?

[ ] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.
[ ] The Kekis show Talia some extra hospitality.
[ ] Wesley wants Talia all to herself tonight.
[ ] Amber and Wesley compete for attention from Will and Auburn.

>>5114020
>[X] Wesley wants Talia all to herself tonight.
I want to take a dip in that jacuzzi with Snuggy Bear

>>5114021
>[ ] Wesley wants Talia all to herself tonight.

>>5114016
A dystopia is downright pleasant to the shit this thing could lead to. The shit it has led to.

>>5114021
>[ ] The Kekis show Talia some extra hospitality
But enough of my fretting, let's get Wesley a stepsibling.

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>>5114021
[X ] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.

I can kind of see this as a sort of bad end or Spin-off thing now that it got brought up I kind of want to see where it goes, but ok.
It may already be too late anyway, here's hoping.

>>5114021
>[ ] The Kekis show Talia some extra hospitality.

>>5114021
>[x] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.

>>5114021
>[x] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.
But it was a tough decision, lemme tell ya

>>5114021
>[ ] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.

>>5114021
[X] Wesley wants Talia all to herself tonight.

>>5114021
> [X] K-Mom and N-Mom settle once and for all whether Wesley is a hose hound or a carpet muncher.

>>5114021
[X] Wesley wants Talia all to herself tonight.

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You and Riley and Ophie and Amber lie on your backs on the carpet, you crowns forming a rough circle.

"Lumberjack," Riley says.

"You. Want to be a lumberjack," Amber says.

"Uh huh."

You ask the obvious thing: "Why?"

"Lumberjacks are strong, and they get to go to all kinds of beautiful places. And no one messes with a lumberjack."

"You would be squandering your potential," Ophie tells him. "No. No. Theoretical physicist is the best career path for you. By the time you are grown, I will have connections enough to secure you a prestigious post at CERN."

"Astronomer," you try. "You love space so much. I bet you'd make discoveries no one ever even dreamed of."

But Riley is unmoved. "If I'm a lumberjack, I can have a Very Large Telescope in the woods. I'd lumberjack in the daytime and be an astronomer at night."

"And when would you eat? When would you sleep?" Amber says.

Riley shrugs. "At normal times. There wouldn't be a whole lot else to do out in the woods."

"Fair... well if that's your plan, can I live with you?" Amber asks. "We'd have a sweet little cabin out there. With excellent postal service."

"Uh huh! You'd all live with me."

"I am not living in the woods," you tell him. "A week out there was more than enough."

"Wessss," Riley whines. "Don't be like that. You could still have a computer and stuff."

"Defeating the point," Amber mumbles.

"I must say that I prefer city life as well," Ophie says. "I would not do well in an area without modern conveniences."

"But we'd all be safe out in the woods," Riley says. He stretches his hands high towards the ceiling, elbows locked, palms splayed, like he's literally reaching for the future. "No one would mess with you guys anymore, or Mommy Cerise or anyone. Especially because I'd be a lumberjack. And they'd have to answer to me first if they messed with you."

Well-meaning though he is, his explanation causes a sobered silence in the three of you.

Amber breaks it. She flips onto her stomach, propping herself on her elbows, and looks down at Riley. "No one messes with a lumberjack, huh?"

"No one."

"Well you've got a long way to go before you're a lumberjack."

"What? Well I'm-- ahh-- aaahh!! Stop! Stooopppp!!" Riley dissolves into uncontrolled fits of laughter and curls up like a pillbug as Amber attacks his soft middle with tickles.

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You break away to see what Will and Auburn are up to. Amber directs you to the guest bedroom where the two are holed up, with express instructions: "don't fuck them. You got dicked down more than enough in Colorado, so save some for the poor and hungry like me."

You knock on the bedroom door. There's some rustling from within, heavy footsteps, and then Auburn answers. He pulls the door open only a crack, to see who's there, his body blocking further view or entry.

"Are you n--" you begin.

"Hold on."

He closes and locks the door. Then after you've spent a few moments of awkward waiting, he swings it fully open. "What's up?" He asks.

You gaze in at Will, who's sitting on one of the two full-size beds there clad in jeans and a tee. He's got a book open in his hands.

"Doing a little light reading?" You ask.

"For sure. It's really good stuff."

"Little Women?" You say.

"What?" He checks the front cover. "Oh -- yeah. Super cool story. I love sci-fi. They still haven't explained yet why they're so little, but I have a couple theories--"

"Do you have a reason for being here?" Auburn cuts in. He pauses to look you over with nakedly predatory eyes.

"Don't act so desperate," you tell him. "It's not sexy."

"So that's why they're little," Will says, turning a page.

"Shut the fuck up, Will," Auburn sneers without even looking back at him. He leans against the jamb and frowns at you. "Desperate? I'd say desperate is coming alone to the bedroom of the two boys who raped you just a couple nights ago."

"I'm on orders not to let you get your dick wet. Maybe Amber's too late for that, though."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You sniff at the air. "Right. Well anyway, I'm on business. You two are best friends with Noah, right?"

"Yeah," Will says.

"Can you get a sense from him of... what's going on with his dad?" You ask.

"Noah hates talking about his dad like you hate showering," Auburn says. "But don't worry. We're as concerned as you. We'll do our part."

"Thank you. And -- you'll pass on what you learn from him, if it's anything important?"

"Or you could try talking to him yourself," Auburn says. "The way normal people do. Noah is a good person. He's not like his father."

"That's what you think."

Auburn strokes your hair, apropos of nothing. You let him take the liberty. So he takes it as permission and goes further, digs his fingers in towards the roots and gets a nice grip on your scalp. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He asks. "What Amber doesn't know..."

You let him pull your face closer and closer to his, until you're cheek-to-cheek. He whispers directly in your eardrum: "don't pretend you're not asking for it." So you whisper directly in his eardrum: "I have better dick waiting for me at home."

His grip loosens and you pull away from him. "Thanks for the offer, though," you chirp.

You swear you've never seen such rage on his face. But that's a lit powderkeg you'll deal with later. You look forward to it.

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By the time you rejoin the rest of the family in the living room, it's starting to feel like a birthday party you missed the invite to. Everyone's there to prematurely celebrate a return to normalcy. The house has become a hive of noise and activity, a dozen different conversations on a dozen different vectors, aunt Renee telling Ophie that she doesn't need to put her college plans on hold, grandma Scarlett commiserating with aunt Rose about how awful it is that their hometown is destroyed, aunt Whitney talking about charitable donations to the recovery effort with aunt Cerise, and now Riley is standing in front of the fireplace wearing a hat and cape, showing off a magic trick that Alex taught him, abracadabra alakazam: watch me make the coin disappear! -- for which he gets clapping and overenthusiastic yelling and oohs and ahhs and grandma Charlotte shouting "wow, it really disappeared!" and Amber chiming in "now do the entire Fed!" and you hate every second of this. You hate it. You feel so wrong amidst it.

So you decide to leave. On your way out, though, you notice Dad in a den near the kitchen, talking in hushed tones with David Darkbloom. And you can't resist stopping to quiz him on what's happened, what's happening, what will happen next.

When they see you, they cut their conversation short. David rises to his feet, groaning geriatrically and using Dad's shoulder as a handle to give his knees some leverage. "I should be returning home."

"Stay for dinner," Dad tells him.

"I'm not hungry -- and we have a long row to hoe, so I'd best begin preparations." He nods at you. "Wesley. Good to see you well." He goes to the wall-mounted coat rack and finds his sport coat there and dons it.

Dad stands. "Let me drive you."

Buttoning up, only half-turning, he replies, "be with your family now, Alabaster. They need you."

And so he goes.

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"Rose is making chicken shish kabobs," Dad tells you. "You and your mothers are welcome to have some too."

"We're ordering pizza."

"Might have a hard time finding a place delivering tonight. The ones that are open are mostly helping out at refugee camps."

"We'll figure it out."

Dad seems to feel the awkwardness as acutely as you do, which you perversely enjoy. "Are you... sticking around? Do you want me to walk you home?"

"I'll be all right. I just wanted to-..." You trail off, and Dad waits for what you'll say. "Never mind," is all you come up with.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." You turn for the exit. "Maybe this was a mistake."

"Wes," Dad says. "We're safe now. You don't have to worry."

You grimace. And then it comes out. "What is this bargain you made with Absalom Abrams? What is it really about? We all had to run away to the middle of nowhere, Colorado, to stay safe from his henchmen, and then... Ophie's missing in the storm, and you're dying on a hospital bed somewhere, and no one knows what the f-- the fuck is going on... but then all of a sudden, you're calling us back home, telling us it's all fine, and you don't even have the common courtesy to tell us how, how is it all fine? How is it that you got Ophie back and cut this deal and made us safe?"

Dad regards you for a long time.

"Sit down," he says.

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You sit in one of the lush leather chairs in the den, and he sits across from you.

"Some of us were on David's yacht, searching around the flooded parts of town for Ophie. Whitney -- well, she was right. She suspected Ophie lied about going to the library that day and was by the docks at Baylands when the storm came ashore. Ophie's been so -- secretive lately... I should have seen the signs, but I didn't. Whitney did. Of course she did. Ophie's been in a relationship with Noah."

"I know."

"Well, I guess dads are always the last to know. We were too late to intercept her at the docks. And we had no clue where she could have fled to. But she had been with Noah. And so Absalom was doing the same thing we were. Searching for his missing child. He found them first. And he brought Ophie back to us safe and sound. And he sat there on the bridge of David's yacht and made me a promise that if we picked up his pet project, he'd make sure none of his people ever meddled in our lives again. How could I say no?"

"Why do you trust him?"

"He needs us to do what he wasn't able to. He can't finish Sand R-- he can't finish his project alone. It wouldn't benefit him to hurt any of us now that he has us cooperating."

"You're his hostage."

Dad cocks his head. "This would have ended very differently if you and Amber hadn't been at that meeting. Do you understand that?"

"I'm sorry," you tell him, looking away.

But he gives no answer.

"Ophie is in real danger now," you say. "Letting her go over to his house -- letting her do this work for him."

"I know she is. She knows she is. She's doing it for you."

"What if he keeps making more demands? What if he gets her alone and does-- something-- to her--"

"I don't know--"

"What if she can't finish his work?"

"I don't know, Wes--"

"But what if she gets hurt? What if she dies?"

"If Ophelia dies, I'll never forgive you," Dad says.

He flinches worse than you do at this. But he may as well have punched you. You lose your breath and feel your eyes welling. You get up from the chair turn from him.

He reaches for you. "Wes -- Wes, wait. I'm s--"

You leave the room.

"Fuck," Dad mutters.

And now I retreat to my cave to produce lewd things. Please wait warmly.

>>5115021
Rileeeeeey ;_;

We need to protect this smile

>>5115101
Jesus christ.

>>5115259
I spent the earlier post thinking of how far Ally's come from that dumb angry kid in Fuck Quest and then he puts his foot in his mouth like this.
Can't totally fault him for being short with his girls though, they're so much like him. Wes especially.

>>5115080
>And so he goes.
I see you, OP

>>5115294
I think it's telling that his first reaction was to blame his daughter (a kid!) for doing something reckless, rather than blaming himself for his own part in putting Ophelia in this situation. Obviously he realized it was wrong, but the reflex was there. One of those things that Ally and Darkbloom have in common, I guess. Maybe they've been rubbing off on each other.

My first reaction was that this is also a sign that he doesn't see Wesley the same way he sees his other daughters, but honestly I could see him talking like that to Amber, so maybe not. Though I guess if he said something like that to Amber, it would probably be because she deserved it.

>>5115080
>Riley is standing in front of the fireplace wearing a hat and cape, showing off a magic trick that Alex taught him
Oh yeah, and how could you post something this precious and then follow it up with THAT? >:T

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You slide the patio door open and go running at a full bore across the adobe surface of your backyard's pool, bare feet paddling wetly on the ground. Leaping, going fetal in midair, you cannonball into the jacuzzi, clothes and all. You hear only a millisecond of Talia's gasp as the backsplash hits her, before your ears become inundated with water and nothing but its whorling rush is audible. You sink to the bottom of the tub and remain there for a moment in perfect indigo oblivion until the heat catches up with you and you go rocketing up to the surface for breath and cool air.

"Hot!" You scream. "Fuck, that's hot! Ow! Shit!"

Talia squirts a small stream back into the tub from between her lips and squeegees the excess moisture from her face. "Come on in," she says. "The water's fine."

"Why did you turn it up so hot?" You shout, slowly bobbing from foot to foot, still struggling to adjust to the nearly scalding temperature.

"Some like it hot," Talia says. "You'll get used to it."

You look down at yourself. Your tee and shorts adhere to your body like clingfilm, and are about as opaque as clingfilm now, too.

"That's a rude entrance you made," Talia says. "You splashed me right in the face."

"Sorry."

"It's not a problem. But I do reserve the right to splash you in the face too."

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She's naked, just like you guessed. And she's soft, but the water's refraction makes it look larger than it is. You stare. Then unable to wait anymore you step in front of her where she sits on the tub's bench seat. You take her face in both hands and maul her lips with hungry kisses, forcing her head back, and back, and back, until it rests against the edge of the tub. Talia allows you to kiss her like this for a minute or two, allows you to push your tongue into her cherry-sweet mouth and probe it wetly around, allows you to grope her. But she knows that something isn't right, and so she pushes you off of her at least far enough to bring her face back level again and ask, "are you okay?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want you pin me down and fuck me."

She gently strokes the side of your face. "What do you really want?" She whispers.

"I want someone to love me," you tell her through tears.

"Many people love you," Talia says. "I'm one of them."

"Then pin me down," you say, grabbing her lewdly, "and fuck me."

She gets you in a hug and uses the buoyancy of your body in the water to easily spin you around. She pulls you close to her -- you're sort of sitting in her lap. But instead of doing anything lewd to you, she merely directs your gaze heavenward. "Watch the sky with me."

"Talia--"

"I don't like having sex in water. It's not as fun as sex on dry land. So just watch the sky with me for a minute, and then we can go inside."

"There's nothing up there," you tell her, scanning your eyes. "Too much light pollution."

"You can see a star or two." She points. "Look. Do you know which one that is?"

You shrug.

"It's Venus. Our twin. Other than the moon, it's the brightest thing in the night sky. People who don't know any better would assume it's just another star, but it's so much closer than they realize. It's so close to us that it casts shadows." Talia rests her chin on your head. "Sometimes when I feel lonely I go outside and look at Venus, and I wonder whether any lonely Venusians are looking back at Earth."

"You're not stupid, Talia. You know there isn't any life on Venus. It's about a hundred times hotter on the surface of Venus than this stupid jacuzzi. Not even bacteria can live there."

"I guess that means the Venusians are even lonelier than us."

>>5115372
I love this woman

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https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewd-wes28

Tomorrow: Hose Hound or Carpet Muncher? America decides.

My alarm didn't go off. I am mad.

>>5115101
Ally, you shit. ;_;

>>5115372
Talia is too great.

>>5115405
See ya soon, OP-sama.

>>5115372
>She gently strokes the side of your face. "What do you really want?" She whispers.
>"I want someone to love me," you tell her through tears.

;__;

Good to have you back, OP.

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You miss pizza that night.

The following morning is a Saturday, but that doesn't stop N-Mom from barging in and waking you up. She does so with a sharp slap to your bare ass. You jolt awake, gasping. Beneath you, Talia also stirs.

"But I'm ridiculous for thinking you should have birth control," N-Mom says.

You rub your forehead, shield your eyes from intruding sunlight, and groan. If a sex hangover is possible, you've got one. Shifting your legs, you can feel the sticky remnants of last night, and know N-Mom has one hell of a view. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" You demand.

"Haven't you ever heard of closing the goddamn door?" N-Mom says.

Talia starts to hum. You're not sure why. You peek down at her.

"We did leave it open," she reminds you.

"Wesley is a child, you know," N-Mom tells her.

"Unlike Summer Denali, right?"

N-Mom blushes and has no retort. "...Have a little shame..." is all she manages.

"Here." Talia takes the corner of the bedspread and drapes it over you and her.

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You rise, using Talia's chest to prop yourself up, and survey the room. "Why are you waking us up?"

"Firstly because it's almost noon. Secondly because we need to go get a few things."

"What things?"

"Talia's things. From her apartment. At least enough for her to, I don't know... have a change of clothes, say. Random example." Talia is, as always, inscrutable. N-Mom strikes a reassuring tone anyway: "We'll take a couple boxes and go over there, all together. Grab just whatever you need to be away from home for a month or so."

"My brother attacked me-- attacked you, there," Talia says. "I don't want you putting yourselves at risk."

"That's over now," N-Mom says.

"No," Talia says. "It's over between you and him. It's never over between him and I. You shouldn't put yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time." She sits up, forcing you to sit up with her. You turn so you're sitting in her lap again like you did in the hot tub. It's nice. "I'll go by myself. I do need to retrieve a few things anyway. And the sooner I get used to being back there on my own, the better."

N-Mom shakes her head, but isn't interested in having the argument. You are. "You can't go there alone."

"We'll have some of Tyrus's people escort you," N-Mom says. "Just in case." Talia opens her mouth, but N-Mom heads her off. "They're trained for it. And they get paid more than enough, so don't try the martyr act a second time."

"...All right," Talia says.

N-Mom leaves to set up the escort mission.

"You'll be okay going back there?" You ask over your shoulder.

She smiles at you. Rare sight. "In and out. I have a lot of necessary items over there. My work laptop and some materials for school on Monday, just to begin with."

"Monday... don't remind me."

She nips your neck. "I like to do my grading in bed. And if you're in bed with me while I'm grading... under the covers... maybe you'll get a little reward."

"All A's?" You ask hopefully.

"Your grade is your grade, Wes. Your work needs to stand on its own merits. But I will definitely give you a gold star."

You pout. She hugs you and shakes you a little to rouse you out of it.

"The glitter kind," you insist.

"Of course."

"Scratch and sniff?" (Pushing your luck here.)

"Work on that gag reflex and the sky is the limit," she promises.

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You groggily eat a whole big bowl of cereal at the new bartop counter in the kitchen. You're always sluggish to rise, and the sugar should help get your energy up for the day ahead.

"You missed pizza last night," K-Mom tells you, walking past on her way to the fridge.

"I know."

She pulls a carton of milk out, opens it, sniffs it, recoils and grimaces. She pours it down the drain. "Blackout must have lasted a couple days," she mutters.

It takes you a few moments to add 2 and 2, but as you watch K-Mom pouring the milk out, you put your spoon to your nose and take a whiff for yourself. Then, feeling a bit queasy, you turn the spoon upside down and let the milk glop back into the bowl.

K-Mom presses the pedal for the recycling bin's lid and drops the empty carton in with a ka-thunk. She turns and props herself against the edge of the sink. Her expression grows worried. "Is that cereal?"

"Yeah."

"You're not using that milk for it, are you?"

Your silence speaks volumes. She crosses to the bartop and, using her index finger, she slowly pulls the half-empty bowl away from you.

Down the garbage disposal goes your Cap'n Crunch. As you drink OJ by the bucketful and K-Mom rinses out the cereal bowl, she makes idle small talk. "You should have gone for the pizza. There's still a ton of it in the fridge."

"I hate cold pizza."

"Yeah," K-Mom agrees. "Well at least you aren't an utter reprobate like your mother is." She sets the bowl in the strainer. "I worry, though. You need someone to take care of you in life. You won't cheat Darwinian selection pressures for much longer if you don't." She holds up an index finger. "Someone like Summer. Now there's a girl who's got her act together."

"Summer is the only person on Earth I'd trust less to cook for me than me," you tell her.

"All right, sure. But she can probably smell spoiled milk, is my point."

"Uh huh."

"Really has her act together, that Summer."

"You want me to marry Summer?" You ask.

"Whoa!" K-Mom says. "I didn't mention anything about marriage. But if that's where your mind is headed... well -- who am I to tell you no?"

You stare at her dumbly.

"Your N-Mom seems to think you've grown out of -- this is so hurtful, Wesley, I couldn't believe my ears... she thinks you've grown out of your 'phase', she calls it." She makes air quotes at that. "But I see the way you are around Summer, and just between us girls? I think it's beautiful. No faking that. And if your mind is set on marriage, then... man, go for it! God knows I won't judge you for it!"

"Mom, what the hell are you talking about?"

She holds up a forearm like she's a Sentai ranger and says: "Gay pride! Right?"

"I'm going to Dad's."

You hop up from the stool and head for your room to get dressed.

>>5116823
This woman will be the death of me.

>>5116827
... so will this one. Good lord, Kay.

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>>5115401
>take responsibility
You know I feel this sudden urge to go check up on..everyone in the harem.
No reason. Just feel like it.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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Unfortunately, you bump into your other mother in the hall. "So that's a no, then, on marrying Summer?" She asks.

"Were you spying-- you know what. Forget I asked." You push past her and disappear into the hallowed sanctuary of your bedroom. Leave it to the Moms to make you learn to love this place again.

A few minutes later as you're leaving for Dad's, though, you hear them gossiping about you in the living room.

"You weren't shitting me. She's packing heat."

"Uh huh. Aaaand... how did you find them this morning, again? Oh, that's right. They were naked together. In bed."

"So what does that count for?"

"Uhhh, you tell me, Noelley. That's girl number... two dozen or so? Under Wes's belt. Now I'm no big city lawyer, but I'm starting to sense a pattern."

"Oh, for -- come on-- Talia?"

"What?"

"She-- you cannot be serious."

"Say it. Go ahead. Say it."

"I'm just saying -- that's all."

"You won't even bring yourself to say it."

"If Talia was the only one, then fine. I'd settle for calling it a draw. But maybe we should talk about... hmm... Will Levy? Auburn-- uh. ... Auburn Bran?"

"I think his last name is Brandon."

"Well whatever. HE has a PENIS. And that penis was doing some demolition derby not too long ago in our daughter's panties. But you won't talk about that."

"Speculative--"

"Speculative? She came out of that tent smelling like she crashed a semi into a sperm bank!--"

"--And furthermore, you're still behind. If that's how you want to judge it. She's going to need to put some serious points on the board if you intend to win on that technicality. And you can't count on two-point conversions like Talia to make up the difference. Not that I don't see what you're trying to pull with this birth control bit."

"OH! So because I don't want our daughter to be the next 16 And Pregnant star, I'm trying to do something shady?"

"Yes!"

"Unbelievable, Kay, really. Honestly."

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"Did you guys make a bet?" You ask, stepping forth from the shadows of the hallway.

"Oh, Jesus--" K-Mom gasps, jumping, as N-Mom shouts, "fuck! Where did you come from?"

"Did you?"

K-Mom laughs. "Did we... um. Huh? Are you feeling all right? You could have food poisoning."

"Did. You. Make a bet. About me."

You count: 10 full seconds of silence passes.

"What? Noooo," N-Mom finally says.

You turn away from them. "Oh my god."

They bumrush you, K-Mom on your left shoulder and N-Mom on your right. "But you trust us enough to talk about your sexuality with us, right?" K-Mom asks. "We're your mothers, after all," N-Mom adds. "Just because you're gay--" K-Mom starts, as N-Mom says "--I mean, you don't have to be like us. You can be your own woman."

"Holy shit," you groan. You wheel on them. "I like... I'm..." you struggle for words. At last, your only explanation is, "I like sex."

"Which one?" N-Mom asks.

"There's a thing called bisexuality these days," you inform them. "I'm sorry. Your bet is a draw."

They stare at the ground, considering the implications of this.

"All right," K-Mom says, stepping closer to you, tenting her fingers like she's about to give a TED talk. "Consider this. Standard models of physics imply that the universe is infinitely divisible, right? There is no true quantum of space. And so -- no object can ever truly be, precisely on a median. It's always going to favor one side or the other."

"That's true," N-Mom says, "that's science."

"So. You know." K-Mom makes a kind of waggly motion with both her hands like you've already understood and accepted the obvious point.

"So you want my answer," you say.

"If you're comfortable giving it," N-Mom says.

"Yes," K-Mom says.

You smile with pursed lips. You lean in close, way close, like you're about to share a secret. The Moms lean in to receive it.

"I think more experiments are necessary," you whisper.

You leave to hang out with your sisters.

More later.

>>5116844
>"What? Noooo," N-Mom finally says.
All of these women. What the hell are we to do with them?

>"I think more experiments are necessary," you whisper.
Oh. Ohhh.

>>5116849
See ya soon~

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>>5116849
Thanks for the continuing run OP--wish I could have been here for the live stuff before tonight.

>>5116849
What happened to wait warmly, because we certainly are?

>>5115401
Much like a lot of the rest of this episode, this was a super cute reintroduction to lewds.

>>5116827
...and then we get this. Holy SHIT Wes.

>>5116866
>All of these women. What the hell are we to do with them?
Our options are to fuck, to be fucked or be entirely unfuckable.
Paradoxically, Wes is all three.

Lovely to see you back OP, couldn't vote but I'll keep my eyes out for the future. I always feel like a need a family/connection tree whenever I come back to this story haha.

>>5119248
Maybe I will make a family tree. It sounds fun!

Can't right now though, I'm writing a lewd

>>5119256
Very cool, it's just hard sometimes with both time and lots of characters, both which are not bad for hinge of course!

Oh boy, looking forward to it then! My favs so far have all involved Amelia, which I admit is total bias.

>>5119741
Based Amelia fan

>>5121692
I admit I have big thing for girls with big hearts and dicks~

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Update: finishing up a very long lewd to post tonight, give me an hour or two. (In my opinion, possibly one of the hottest I've ever done.)

Then I'll run the episode a little more, and tie the episode up this weekend.

>>5122817
Exciting~

>>5122817
Oooh maaan...

>>5122817
Muh based OP

>>5122817
Hype desuu!

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https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewd-wes29

>>5122919
Oh. Oh my.

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On Monday, you're the last person awake. As is tradition. Wearing only a dingy tee as you trod out into the living room, you're surprised to run into K-Mom coming into the house through the front door. She's dressed in her peacoat and slacks.

You furrow your brow. "Where did you go so early?"

"I drove downtown at dawn to see how the offices at The Communique held up in the storm."

N-Mom, from the kitchen, asks: "Well?"

"Gone," K-Mom says. She makes a sweeping motion with her hands. "Whoosh. Like it was never there. I need to call my editors and tell them that we're strictly a work-from-home operation for the foreseeable future."

"The 20s are back in style," N-Mom says. She strides into the living room and hands K-Mom a cup of coffee.

"Ugh," K-Mom groans. She gladly accepts the coffee and drinks deep to help forget that thought.

"Bet you're glad you sprung for flood insurance on the building like I said to. Huh?" N-Mom wraps both hands around her own mug of coffee, blows, and takes a sip.

"Uh."

N-mom slowly lowers the mug from her lips. "You did get flood insurance, right?"

K-Mom turns to you. "So. Assembly first thing today?"

"Yep."

"Kay!"

"I hate being on the PTA," K-Mom says. "Why do parents have to come, anyway?"

"I thought you liked parents coming," Talia murmurs. She's sitting at the counter, eating something out of a bowl.

"Oh, this is just great, Kay. Have fun asking Alabaster for the cash to cover your little oopsy. Because I'm not helping you beg."

"I didn't ask for help, honeybun," K-Mom says, flashing a false smile while unbuttoning her coat. She sets her coffee down on an end table to take it off and drape it over a forearm.

You head for the kitchen to escape the bickering. From the other side of the counter, you can see now that Talia is eating cereal.

"Where'd you get the milk?" You ask. "I thought we were out."

Talia tips the bowl forward to show you that there isn't any milk in it.

"You are such a strange person," you say.

K-Mom brushes by and roots through the fridge for something good to snack on.

"Listen -- Kay," Talia says. K-Mom shuts the fridge and turns. "I know I said I can't pay rent, not with the rent on my own apartment to contend with. But I don't want to be a leech. I can cover expenses, at least. Food and so on. Plus a little extra in appreciation for your generosity. And I can do chores around the house."

"Will you wear a maid costume?" You ask.

K-Mom gives you a displeased look.

But Talia isn't put off. "Oh, sure."

K-Mom huffs. "You don't need to pay, but if it'll make you feel better, you're welcome to scrub our toilets."

"Are you s--"

"Don't worry about it, toots." K-Mom stands on tiptoes and cranes her neck. "Is that Cheerios?" She goes over, grabs a handful of cereal directly out of Talia's bowl, and shoves it to her mouth. "Gud tashte," she says through the food.

Talia nods.

K-Mom swallows. She glances at you. "Get your scrawny ass dressed. You have school."

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When you dress and return to the living area, the Moms are both in the kitchen. K-Mom is rinsing dishes and N-Mom is standing beside her eating a freshly peeled blood orange.

"I saw the weirdest thing a few minutes before you got back," N-Mom says, staring out the kitchen window at the lawn. She shoves a wedge of the orange into her mouth.

"What?" K-Mom says. She seems to be only half paying attention as she scrubs her coffee mug.

"A fly landed on the counter, and I could swear that it was wearing a top hat."

"Wearing a what?"

"A top hat. Like the Monopoly man."

K-Mom stops rinsing. She sets the mug and sponge both down in the sink. She gives N-Mom an incredulous look. "Are you on drugs?"

N-Mom cocks her head. "No, Kaytlin, thanks for asking. I know what I saw."

"A housefly."

"Yeah."

"Did he have a housefly-sized cane, too? A little housefly monocle? Jesus." K-Mom turns the tap back on and resumes washing her mug with a baffled head shake.

Talia is still sitting at the counter. Her mouth isn't smiling, but her eyes are.

>>5122959
>Dry cereal
Talia, are you okay?

>>5122966
Yes. Yes you are.

>>5122959
>Dry cereal
Unfathomably cultured

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"People! Hello! People! Listen up!"

Amber is trying and failing to grab the attention of hundreds of milling students and parents. The assembly hall is abuzz with conversations, and even though she's at a mic, the crowd is drowning out her pleas for order.

Auburn approaches her and, after a little light sparring between the two, wrests control from her. He squares up to the lectern. He draws a deep breath. "SILENCE!" He bellows.

The room goes deathly silent.

"Thank you," he says, as smooth and polite as a British butler.

He motions with his arm, yielding the lectern back to Amber. She uncertainly reclaims her spot, nodding at him: "Thank y--" she begins, but there's a screech of feedback that makes everyone wince. She adjusts the stand and clears her throat. "Thank you."

Auburn steps aside, rubbing his ears.

Amber surveys the crowd. This hall is too small for a crowd so large -- it's standing-room only. Although attendance was mandatory for students, it was optional for parents. That didn't stop 90% of them from showing up. Prep school parents are like that.

"As you're no doubt aware by now," Amber says, "the ARkStorm destroyed significant portions of Palo Alto Prep. The east wing roof is partially collapsed, and the baseball diamond is still flooded."

Beside you, Summer blows a sad raspberry.

"Repairs will take some time. We're asking for anyone who can volunteer, to do so."

Auburn says something. Amber covers the microphone and responds from over her shoulder. Despite that, you can catch bits of their argument:

"--not asking--"

"--fuck we're not. We're not making it mandatory, Brant--"

"--agreed--"

"--agreed to nothing!--"

"--administration said--"

"--give a greasy shit! I'm making it voluntary! Eat me!"

Amber turns back to the microphone. "If you can help out -- IF you can, and you're willing to volunteer your time -- sign up for time slots after the assembly. Students can work two hours during each school day during any classes that would have been in the east wing. They can also work up to three hours after school. Parents can work as many hours as they like."

"At least it's voluntary," you mumble. You glance at Summer. She's giving you the stinkeye. "Oh," you say.

"You're, like, seriously being serious?" She says. "You don't want to help?"

"...Not really."

"You are such a lazy piece of shit!"

"Preach," K-Mom says.

"Come on, Wesley," Liz says. "You should pitch in. We are."

"I'm with her," Winter says, hands behind her head. "This school blows. Wish the whole thing sunk."

Liz sighs, beleaguered. But Summer is more upfront: she tugs on Winter's earlobe.

"OW! OW! WHAT THE HECK!"

"You are helping too, you little smurf."

Winter fights herself free. Wincing and rubbing her face, she says, "you can't make me. Fatty. And anyway, I have a job already. Olivia's place is trashed too."

"It wasn't that bad," Summer says.

"Bad enough. And her girlfriend isn't helping out like she should, so I'm it."

You frown.

>>5122998
The hell, Amelia?

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"Did you hear?" Summer asks in the school's main locker room between periods. She shuts the door of her locker, adjusts her bag's strap over her shoulder, and turns towards you. The open-air atrium here is now extra open-air: several of the glass ceiling tiles got blown out, shattered by the storm. (Of fucking course, your locker was directly below one such tile, and everything in it was destroyed by rainfall.) "They're saying Avery died in the ARkStorm."

"Oh," you say. "...Who?"

Summer makes a disgruntled purr from the back of her throat.

Lily, beside you, seems a little more aggrieved by the news. She rubs her forehead. "Damn," she mutters, staring at the ground. The sadness there seems real, but only momentary. She looks back up. "At least she didn't die a virgin."

You, Summer, and Lily start towards class again.

"You know what else died in the ARkStorm?" Lily says as you pass through the halls. "Our chances at Monaco."

"What makes you think?" You ask.

"We already missed two games this season, going on three. Dollars to fuckin dones that the knobheads who run the league won't make an exception. They'll calculate our standings with the missed games counted as losses."

"They'd have to DQ pretty much all of Cali," you point out.

"They hate Cali anyway."

"I hate Cali," you say.

Lily huffs. "See the big fucking picture, Wesley. No International for us this year. Might as well quit the team completely."

"I have more important things to worry about nowadays than whether we go to the International," you tell her. "Sorry."

"What's more important than winning?" Lily asks, stopping at the door to her next period. But you let her linger on that question as you and Summer continue down the hall towards Talia's English class.

>>5123027
Poor what's-her-name...

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Around lunchtime you stalk out to the remnants of the east wing, figuring you'll find Auburn there. And you do. He's watching the students and parents hard at work, standing far back from the activity as they haul wheelbarrows full of debris back and forth between a series of garbage hoppers that the school rented out.

"Shouldn't you be helping too?" You ask, sidling up to him.

"I am."

"Really," you say flatly. "How's that?"

"I'm a manager. I'm managing." He peers at you from the side. "What about you? Are you going to do your part? Or are you too good for it?"

"Manage this," you tell him, giving him the finger.

He slaps you. Hard and without warning. You crumple to the wet grass, clutching your face, more shocked than anything. Looking quickly up, you scan your eyes around to check if anyone saw -- no one seems to have. You glower at him. You don't know whether you're madder that he slapped you in the first place or that he correctly figured you'd take it.

"Wasn't too hard to manage at all," he says.

You fight your way back standing. Still fuming, you ask: "did you get a chance to talk to Noah yet?"

"Of course. He's tight-lipped about everything you care about, though. He knows Will and I are staying with your family. So he's worried that his father will disapprove of him sharing secrets with us."

"His father," you laugh bitterly. "Tell Noah to do us all a favor and go Lizzie Borden on him."

"Noah is my friend, Wesley. I'm not going to tell him to murder his dad."

You rub your still-smarting cheek. "Friend, huh? You treat all your friends as good as this?"

"If Noah was into it the way you are, I'd slap the shit out of him. But he's not like that. Not like you." He steps into your personal bubble. When you try to step back, he grabs one of your wrists. "Come over to your Dad's house tonight. Wear something slutty."

"You fucking wish. God, I give you one crumb of pussy and now you act like you're entitled to it."

Auburn says nothing, but only stares piercingly back at you for several long moments, refusing to let go of your wrist.

"Is there anything else?" You say sarcastically. "Or is this the closest you can get to holding a girl's hand?"

"Admit you liked it."

"Liked w--"

"When I slapped you. Admit you liked it."

Now it's you who stares at him.

"You don't have to lie to me. We both know the truth." Auburn tilts his head forward and stares you down, waiting patiently, but keeping his grip on you tight.

"...I liked it," you admit.

He lets go of your wrist. "See? Easy. So much more agreeable than Amber."

That's it tonight. Choose the scenario for when we pick up Sunday:

[ ] Help out at school with Summer, Liz, and Lily.
[ ] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.
[ ] You're a lazy piece of shit! Go home to Talia and the Moms.
[ ] Go to Dad's with Amber, Will, and Auburn.

>>5123061
>[x] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia

>>5123061
>[X] Help out at school with Summer, Liz, and Lily.

>>5123061
>[x] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.

>>5122959
Dry cereal is probably the least weird thing Talia is into.

>>5122966
>she did it
LET'S GOOOO

>>5123027
Inb4 Avery isn't actually dead, and people just forgot that she survived

;_;7

>>5123061
>[x] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.
I'm a simple man. The promise of milfy mommies is too good to pass up.

>>5123061
You're tearing me apart with these choices, OP!
>[x] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.

>>5122998
>"Bad enough. And her girlfriend isn't helping out like she should, so I'm it."
Huh. Maybe Amelia's also assessing damage on Shake 'Em Up?

>[X] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.

Dry cereal good

>>5123061
>[ ] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.

>>5123061

>[X] Go to Dad's with Amber, Will, and Auburn

>>5122959

Dry cereal vs. Cereal with milk is at first glance a deceptively simple question. The truth of the matter is more complicated than simple preference. Dry vs. Milk is a spectrum predominantly decided by the type of cereal being consumed.

For example, Corn Pops seems to have been engineered specifically to be consumed by hand straight out of the box without intervention from bowl, milk, or spoon. On the other end of things are Frosted Mini Wheats. Anyone not eating Frosted Mini Wheats in a bowl with milk at a fully furnished table designed for the purpose of eating meals while using a spoon is obviously in possession of a deranged and dangerous mind. Completely unhinged.

>>5123057
>[X] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.

>>5123490
But what would happen if you add dehydrated / powdered milk, and don't add water? You the goodness of milk while having things remain dry.

>>5123061
>[x] Help out at the bookstore with Winter, Olivia, and Amelia.
I feel like we should check up on them, my own biases aside.

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>>5123498
Buddy I’m gonna need you to stop right there.

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When the bell above the door at Bosphorus Rare Books rings, Olivia pokes her head out from between one of the aisles. "Wesley! How have you been? That's great. Did you happen to bring BRB's customer #1 with you?"

"Nice to see you too..." you mutter.

Olivia, body still only half-poking out from around the corner of the bookshelves, smiles mutely back at you.

"Talia's at home," you explain.

Olivia's smile falters a bit, but she gamely keeps it plastered to her face. "Oh. Well. Feel free to look around. And when you see her, let her know that I'll be getting a new shipment in soon!"

You walk slowly down the center aisle of the store, towards the checkout counter. You pass Olivia, who's too busy taking a book-by-book inventory to pay you any further mind. Winter is following alongside her, red pen and metal clipboard in hand. Bizarre as it is to think, Olivia has turned such an unruly girl into a hardworking apprentice of sorts.

"Did you smell something just now?" Winter asks her when you pass.

"Fuck you too, Winter," you tell her.

"Whoa, it got stronger just now," Winter says. She busies herself by scanning the list on her clipboard with the tip of her red pen and pretends not to notice you. "Huh... must have been the wind."

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Amelia is sitting alone at a round oakwood table in a little alcove near the back of the store. She's tracing her fingertip around the outer rim of a tumbler. On the table sits a 2-liter of Coke (made with real cane sugar, per the label) and a bottle of rum. You can't help smirking at the fact that the label on the rum reads Mount Gay. But Amelia is clearly feeling morose, so you get serious again and take a seat.

"Rum and coke," you say. "I, uh, didn't know you had such good taste? I think... I'll... have some, too."

Amelia props her cheek on her fist. You hold out a hand, waiting for her to give you the tumbler, but she only pulls her tumbler -- and her liquor bottle -- closer.

"What?" You demand.

"Have you ever tasted a single drop of rum in your life?"

"Of... course. I'm a hardened drinker. I drink like a horse."

"Like a horse."

"Uh huh."

"You're not having any," Amelia says. "I've contributed enough to your delinquency without helping you drink like a... horse."

"What's up with you?" You demand, leaning in, holding on to the edge of the table. "Sitting around looking all sorry for yourself. Getting drunk. What's wrong?"

Amelia clicks her tongue. "I've only had two glasses. I'm not even feeling tipsy. If I was drunk, you'd know it."

"Yeah? How's that?"

She wraps her fingers around the throat of the bottle and uses it as a sort of lever with which to lean herself in as well, so that your noses almost touch. "Because when I get drunk, my face turns red."

You look her over from brow to chin. "Your face looks kinda pinkish... could be the light."

"And I can't keep my hands to myself."

"Oh."

She sits back in her chair, bottle in her lap. "I'm just relaxing. That's all. Thank you for worrying, though. You're a very sweet girl underneath the surface."

>>5124043
>"And I can't keep my hands to myself."
You can't even do that while sober!

>>5124043
>Mount Gay
Oh we're gonna mount some gays, alright

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Olivia's voice, muffled by several rows of bookcases, reaches your ears. "That one too? Consarn it..."

You do a bona fide double take. "Did she just say--"

"Liv gets a bit of 19th century gold prospector in her when she's upset," Amelia says. She throws a hand heavenward and shrugs. "Don't ask me.'

You move on. "Do you have work tonight? How's Shake 'Em Up?"

Amelia makes a sucking noise with her lips and teeth, almost like a kiss. "You remember that a semi truck and trailer careened into one of the walls right before a historic flooding event, right? Shake 'Em Up store #1 is closed for business indefinitely."

"Aunt Whitney will get it fixed up, though, right?"

"I left a message about the destruction on her voicemail. Understandably enough, she hasn't gotten back to me. There's a lot happening." She shakes her head and stares down at her bottle of rum. "I just got through contacting all the employees I could reach and telling them the news. Mm... anyway, as of now, I'm unemployed."

"I'll bug Aunt Whitney to get you transferred to another location," you promise. "You're definitely her favorite employee. She'll help you out."

Amelia exhales. "Sure, you can save my job. And I'm grateful. It just doesn't save the jobs of the 20 other people who worked there."

"Why don't you help Olivia get the store back in order? Get your mind off it."

Amelia stands, rum in hand. "Store is clean. Olivia's just taking stock of all the books that got looted after all. Her warding spell didn't cut the mustard." She takes the 2-liter of Coke as well, plus her now emptied tumbler. She leaves into the room behind the checkout desk, ass sashaying behind her.

You feel sick to your stomach with worry over what she just revealed. You call out so Olivia can hear you from whatever aisle she's in: "y-you guys got looted? Was it..."

"Nothing culty!" Olivia calls in a singsong voice from over by the entrance. "No need to worry, Wes-a-less!"

You walk swiftly that way until you practically bump into her.

"What did they take?" You demand.

Winter clears her throat and reads from the manifest she's been keeping for Olivia. "A first edition of Finnegans Wake... a Quaran printed on a 16th century German printing press... a first edition Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne... a personal diary belonging to Rexford Tugwell... a Spanish conquistador's account of Aztec farming practices..."

You hold up a hand to stop her.

"They robbed some of my most valuable stock," Olivia says. "The varmints. No, no -- these were people after a payday, not our favorite death cult... unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" You sputter.

"If it was Instrumentalists, they would have had the common decency not to take my signed copy of Elie Wiesel's Night! Do you know how much that book is worth?"

"Y-- do you know what that book is about?"

"Yeah! That's why it's worth so much!" She turns towards the bookshelf again. "Razzle frazzle, dagnab, no good, troublemakers..."

>>5124059
God, this verbal tic of Olivia's is adorable

>>5124059
Oh my darlin'!

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You discover Amelia kicked back on the couch in the tiny apartment hidden at the back of Bosphorus Rare Books. You knew this place existed but it's your first time coming inside.

You sweep some random detritus to clear a spot on the low coffee table in front of the couch. You sit. "You weren't joking. Olivia got robbed blind."

"I know." She rubs her mouth with her fingertips moving in a wide circle several times, and stares at the ceiling. Something is wrong here, but you won't press her. You just wait for her to explain what's on her mind. Her eyes get misty over the course of some silent moments, and then she finally brings herself to face you. "Liv doesn't know it yet -- she's too focused on the theft... but I know how this ends."

"I don't understand."

Amelia shakes her head bitterly. "This is no huge loss for her. She has all her highest-value books insured. And that's the problem. The insurance is going to pay out bigtime. It'll be enough money to... fund a quick trip around the world, for example."

You stare at her severely.

"She's going to leave again. It's how she is. She can't stay put. She's got this... wanderlust, baked in her DNA." She puts her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees. "We were apart for so long. She'd stop back in Palo Alto a few times a year, for a few weeks at a time, for nearly a decade... and that's all I had of her. For so, so long. Now she's going to do it all over again."

"Couldn't you go with her?" You try. "Assuming you're even right about it."

"I'm right about it," she says. She straightens up her posture. She sniffs. "No. I can't go."

"Why?"

"I just... I just can't. Is that good enough for you, Wesley? Does that satisfy you? Why do you ask so many questions? Why do you think you can just come walking into someone's room like this, anyway?"

You awkwardly stand, knocking over a couple books in the process. They clatter to the floor. "I... I'm sorry..." you mutter. "I'll leave you alone."

Amelia realizes herself. "Wait. I'm sorry too. Stay a minute... please."

"You have to talk to her about this," you say. "Don't just wait for something bad to happen. If that's what you think is going to happen. Head it off."

But Amelia only gazes off into the middle distance, her jaw slightly parted, like even contemplating it is too much to bear.

>>5124079
;_;

>>5124079
Oh nyooooo ;_;

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Winter finishes pounding numbers into the old-school desk calculator on top of the checkout counter. She cradles her forehead in the crook between thumb and forefinger, staring at the figure on the LED screen. Then, shaking herself like she just nodded off, she zeroes the calculator out.

"How bad is it?" Olivia asks.

"I'm checking it again," Winter says. She clacks away until she gets her result. But she disbelieves it a second time, and starts over from the top.

"Winter... please."

"One point three seven five... million dollars."

"Oh thank God," Olivia says, exhaling, a hand to her breast.

"Uh. What?" Winter pushes her chair back from the counter with an ear-splitting squeal. "Did you hear the words from my mouth? One point three sev--"

"Seven five million, yes, I heard." Olivia cuts in. She smiles. "I was petrified that it would crack five million. This is good. Insurance should cover it."

"Insurance!" Winter says, throwing her hands up, outraged. But then she seems to realize that she doesn't understand what she's outraged about, and takes her seat again. "Well... cool. And you can add a little bit extra on top of that million bucks because I clocked mega overtime tonight."

"That was voluntary, though, right?" Olivia asks.

"Totally. I volunteered for extra pay tonight."

Winter's a bit too comfy right now. You change that. She startles like a bomb went off when you kick a wheeled shop vac so that it goes rolling across the hardwood floor and collides with the foot of her chair.

"Geez! What is you fricking problem?"

You pull a dust mask over you face, letting the elastic straps snap behind your ears. "Suit up," you tell her, your voice buzzing weirdly through the mask. "I'm not working mildew mitigation by myself here."

"Bitch..." she mutters, gathering herself to her feet and bending down to roll the shopvac towards the aisle where they stacked put the worst-damaged books.

"Wesley -- thank you just so much for this," Olivia says, watching you step one leg at a time into your Tyvek suit. "Mel was supposed to help us with this part... but she hasn't been herself all day."

[ ] Tell her about your conversation with Amelia.
[ ] Tell her she should talk to Amelia, but don't explain further.
[ ] Don't get involved.

>>5124098
>[x] Tell her she should talk to Amelia, but don't explain further.

>>5124098
>[x] Tell her about your conversation with Amelia.

Olivia's dense and Amelia seems unwilling to be confrontational. Gotta intervene.

>>5124098
>[ ] Tell her she should talk to Amelia, but don't explain further.

>>5124098
>[X] Tell her she should talk to Amelia, but don't explain further.

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[x] Tell her she should talk to Amelia, but don't explain further.

"To a job well done!" Olivia says, toasting at the air.

You and Winter, tired and overheated, slouching and draped over a couple of chairs, and still half-dressed in your cleansuits, give listless cheers in return. You down your glasses of Fanta together.

After making a satisfied "pwah" and smacking her lips, Olivia says: "you girls are what's right with America."

You give each other looks to communicate silently that you both tend to think the opposite. Not just of each other, but of yourselves too.

You set your empty glass down on the floor and sit forward, tugging the top half of your cleansuit a bit further down to give yourself air.

"How can I thank you?" Olivia asks.

"$30 an hour is thanks enough," you say.

Olivia giggles. "But really."

"Really."

Olivia pouts. She didn't expect you to demand money.

"I'll take my pay as a credit on Talia's account," you allow. "She can pay me back with favors in kind."

"Of course. Anything for BRB customer A-number-one."

You nod at Winter. "You headed home?"

"Where's that?" Winter grumps.

"Winter wanted to have a sleepover!" Olivia tells you. "So I said: well, why the heck not?"

"Cute. Movie night?" You ask.

"Game night!" Olivia says.

"Have fun," you tell them.

"You're not staying?" Winter says. She sounds weirdly upset.

---

"Yahtzee! Whoo!"

Olivia pumps her fists and then sets to tallying her score on the card. Fucking four-leaf-clover-ass bitch. She's destroying all of you.

Sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table in her apartment, Olivia is hanging off Amelia with such obvious adoration that it's hard to believe she'd ever choose to be separated. Amelia has managed to engage herself with the games tonight -- even if she's as upset as you and Winter are at Olivia's six-sigma luck -- but there's a persistent sadness underneath.

You and Winter are sitting opposite one another. She occasionally plays footsie with you under the table. It's weird: she puts the sole of her foot against your own and presses hard so that you can feel the warmth of it, her toes wiggling -- but when you try to catch her eye, she's always steadfastly looking away, pretending that she somehow doesn't notice what she's obviously doing on purpose. And anytime you press back with your own foot, she jerks, and pulls hers away.

She's such a fucking weirdo.

The older women get buzzed on rum and Coke, but both of them, despite the drinking, are responsible enough to keep you two younger girls strictly on Coke alone. This despite both you and Winter cajoling them for a taste of the hard stuff.

Drunkenness does bring out the subway groper in Amelia. She frequently squeezes Olivia's tits, thighs, and butt when she thinks you aren't looking. She frequently squeezes yours whenever she realizes you are.

You aren't the only one looking. Winter has eyes that work just as well as yours do. She bites her thumbnail -- jealous of the attention.

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It isn't until nearly midnight when you leave.* As Winter and Amelia doze in a tangled pile on the couch, Olivia volunteers to take you home to your worried Moms.

The night is balmy and the street is only dimly lit, filled with darkened storefronts. "Thanks again for tonight," Olivia says. She ushers you into Amelia's car alongside the curb, then gets in on the driver's side.

"It was fun," you agree, but noncommittally.

Olivia pauses, her seatbelt half-clicked into place. "What's the matter?"

"Amelia is..." you begin. You start over. "Maybe you should talk to her."

Olivia stays in that putting-on-my-seatbelt pose like she got flash-frozen in carbonite. Then she carries on like normal, checking that the belt isn't twisted and firing the ignition. "Don't worry about it. My Melly gets a little... with the storm and everything else, I think it did a number on all of us. She needs time, that's all."

"She needs you," you say.

Olivia nods and keeps her eyes peeled on the road ahead as she drives.

(*a lewd scene to come here, but not tonight.)

>>5124166
>>5124175
Awwww

(It's an awwww because it's cute, but also because it's sad)

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Tyrus powers through the crackle of feedback that turning on his megaphone produces. "Okie dokie, folks. We gonna have a nice orderly bucket brigade here. Those of you with physical prowess -- that means being able to lift shit -- come stand over here. You're group A. You'll be helping get these sump pumps set up. Those of you not afraid to get wet, stand over there by those tables. You're group B. And you're gonna want to don some of that there protective clothing, waders and rubber overalls and such -- provided to you gratis on behalf of the local business association. Cause you are going to be about yay high in the muck over there at home plate." He picks up a sort of rake-like tool. "Y'all are going to push the water radially towards the sump pumps. Got that? I want you to work inside-out. Inside-out, folks. Radial."

"I guess someone's not afraid to get a little wet," you say, finding Lily over by group B.

"Glass houses, Wes."

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing."

Lily struggles to put on a pair of overalls, fighting against the shoulder straps. "Yeah. Well. I'm only here because my fucking dad can't let me out of his sight for two seconds now."

You lean your tailbone against the edge of the table and try to put on some waders. They're the size of clownshoes, designed to go on over your normal shoes. You struggle as hard as Lily does.

"What made you get volunteery all of a sudden?" Lily wants to know.

You nod in the direction of why.

"Graaah," Lily grunts in imitation of a power-lifter and flexes her arms. "Summer stronk."

Summer is hard at work with Group A already. She's carrying a pump towards the perimeter of the flooded baseball field like it's nothing at all. It must weight at least 75 pounds.

"How you think a fatass like her gets so strong? Steroids? Is Summer roiding it up, Wes?"

"She works out."

"Pfft. Waving pom poms in the air isn't working out. Not in my book."

You smile at her, cheeky. "That's not her workout. I am."

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>>5124210
Confident Wes best Wes

>>5124210
muh based Summer

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But Lily isn't paying enough attention to get your implication. Instead she's watching another woman in group A. This would be Stasi. To your understanding, this nightmare of a woman is the "business association" member who helped supply the pumps to PAP. That doesn't mean she can operate them, though. She's struggling to get one started, pulling again and again at the ripcord to no effect, muttering under her breath.

"Dumb bitch," Lily laughs.

"Easy to call her names from 50 yards away."

"I ain't got any problem telling her to her face."

"Oh sure. You're going to walk right up to the Russian mobster and--"

But Lily is already speedwalking her way on her way over. "Hey!" She calls between cupped hands.

Stasi stands straight and watches the approach in a sort of daze, like someone who got caught committing a crime. Her lips part.

"Don't throw a disc out trying to start that thing," Lily says when she gets to her. "Dumbass."

This breaks the stupor. "What did you say?" Stasi booms. Lily pays no mind as she gets her foot onto the top of the pump, wraps the cord around her knuckles a couple times, and pulls with all her might. The pump pukes black soot into the air and then produces a steady chk-chk-chk as it rattles. Lily steps back with a ta-da motion.

"You -- are the most ill-mannered, crude, disrespectful little--"

"Save your breath, grandma. Go take a sit and smoke another cigarette, ey?"

Stasi calls after her in Russian, obscenities you assume, but Lily keeps her back to her and grins smugly at you as she returns to Group A. "See? Easy as."

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>>5124220
Lily...

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Dad was helping clear debris from the roof cave-in, but he stops by the baseball field to speak a bit with Tyrus about something or another. You have no clue what precisely, and you don't care.

You're happy to see that he's miserable: his shirt soaked-through with sweat, his hair a mess, his face dirty. He looks like he crawled out of a coal mine. They've been working him like a fish.

Unfortunately, when he's done with Tyrus, he notices you getting ready to move some water water around, and comes sheepishly up to the group B tables. You adjust your overalls and pretend not to know he's even there.

"Wes... about the other night. I wanted to tell you--"

"I didn't want to hear it," you say, turning away from him. You take one of the squeegee-rakes in hand and tromp off towards the flooded field.

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>>5124230
I know it probably runs in the family, but yeesh.

>>5124230
Ally kinda deserves this honestly. Still hurts though

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Pushing water towards pumps with a fucking rake is daunting, miserable work. You have visions of yourself, aged 60, hunchbacked and decrepit, ruing the day you agreed to help clean up the baseball field at PAP.

The things you do for Summer's coconut pussy, you swear.

Aunt Whitney and Ophie are on the water removal detail, too. "Radial," Whitney tells her. "Raaaadial."

"Mm."

"Swish swish. Come on. Put your back into it!"

"I am putting my back into it," Ophie replies, sharp-tongued, enunciating every syllable as clearly as possible to show her displeasure.

"Whoa. Hey. You might be a woman now, but that doesn't mean you can start getting smart with your Mom. I was getting smart before you were even born, so watch yourself."

"Aunt Whitney," you say, grabbing her attention away from ribbing her daughter.

"Huh?" Whitney says. You and she stay standing still in the ankle deep water as the others push on. "What's up?"

"Is she... going there tonight, too?"

Whitney glances back at Ophie. "...Yeah. It's a whole... onboarding thing." She makes waggly motions with both hands. "Ophie and her boyfriend, plus Alex and Sable and some of the team they'll have. They'll be done with it by the end of the week, and then the rest of the work can all happen at DBE."

"She'll be safe there... right?"

"She isn't leaving my side. Or her grandpa's. Plus! We've got bodycams."

You squint at her.

"We're wearing bodycams as a... what did bio-dad say... a propalactic. I think. Well -- it means that if Abbie does anything shady, the evidence is on the cloud, and he'll get fucked. So it's all on the up-and-up."

"Do you think I could come along, too?" You ask.

Whitney dithers. "I... don't think Ally would--"

"I'm not asking Dad. I'm asking you." You swallow hard. "I want to be there with her. This is all my fault, right? So if something bad happens to her, it should happen to me, too."

"This isn't your fault, honey," Whitney tells you.

"You and Dad don't see eye to eye on that one, then."

She frowns.

"Please," you tell her.

"Okay. But don't hate me for agreeing to it. You'll be bored as shit for the next five hours or so. It's nothing but endless powerpoints and code reviews." She sighs. "We'll have to grab you a bodycam too."

You bring your rake back down to the brackish surface of the water and start pushing again. "Thanks. Do whatever you gotta do."

>>5124242
Oh boy...

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Ophie shoots you a couple highly confused looks as you and she sit in the front row of an auditorium inside Absalom Abrams's house. But she seems to know better than to question it.

An auditorium. Inside a house. Abrams is crazier than you ever imagined.

Turns out he was keeping his most sensitive project files in his home, paranoid lunatic he is. But he isn't even here to present it to you and the others. That job, he's pawned off on David Darkbloom. He stands at the front of the room going through the details.

"...comprising a database of personal profiles compiled from said network traffic reanalysis. More or less every human being who has had an internet connection in the past 30 years. Now... turning to object recognition..." he pauses mid-sentence, leans with his knuckles against a table at his side, and seems poised to vomit.

"Pop?" Ophie asks.

He holds up a hand to signal that all is well. But he's still leaning over the table as he bids his sudden nausea away. Aunt Vivian rushes to his side and soothingly rubs his back. He clears his throat with some truly disgusting phlegmy noises, and rights his posture. He seems normal again, and calm, but Vivian remains wild-eyed, horrified. "Where was I," he says. "Object recognition." He clicks to the next slide in the powerpoint. "Abrams Industries has spent considerable money over the decades on satellite mapping, assisted in great measure by land-based drones. This was the work he split off from DBE to pursue... the resolution -- breadth and depth of data, is almost inconceivable..."

"Snore, am I right?" Aunt Whitney whispers from the corner of her mouth.

"I don't even understand enough to know whether I should be snoring or worrying about Big Brother."

Alex raises a hand and waits patiently to be called on by David. "Yes?"

Alex puts his hand down in his lap again. "What does one have to do with the other?" He asks. "Personal data and... AI object recognition?"

"Everything," Sable murmurs. If ever there was a disciple that Absalom Abrams didn't need, it's her.

"Is there a... bathroom?" you ask Whitney.

"Out there. First door you see."

You excuse yourself.

>>5124258
What are we gonna dooooo?

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Absalom's house could be fairly called palatial. At least in terms of size. In terms of decor, you may as well be in an office. White walls, cream carpet, beige furniture. Nothing but right angles and an occasional potted fern or two. Function over form.

You do your business in his sprawling guest bathroom -- who needs three showers in one room? -- and return to the hall. You're headed for the auditorium, but now, through a glass wall, you see the man himself.

Absalom is in his backyard. A tree there occupies a central place in his garden of hedges and flowering plants. Although the rest of the garden is in disarray from the storm, muddy, twig-blown, and half-uprooted, Absalom is busy trimming this single, well-kept tree's branches in particular. He carries on with the pinpoint precision of a Bonsai enthusiast, although his project is many times more massive than that. It's a stout tree, with a trunk as wide as you are tall, and a canopy that sits low over the ground in the shape of an umbrella, at least 30 feet in diameter but no more than 10 or 12 feet high. Absalom uses a simple folding stepladder to reach the lower hanging boughs, examining each individual leaf for signs of blight and lopping off only the ones that fail inspection. He wears a thick canvas apron, plaid shirt, jeans, and padded gloves.

Before you know what you're doing, you're crunching fallen brush underfoot, approaching him.

He notices you and stops working to greet you from atop the ladder. "Wesley. Pleased to meet you. I wasn't expecting you."

You say nothing.

"Do you like it?" He asks. He wipes his brow with the forearm of the hand in which he holds his shears. "This is a rain tree. Apt name, right? It's the only damn thing in my yard that survived the ARkStorm."

"Why do you want my sister?"

Absalom sighs deeply like you're the uncle that got racist at Thanksgiving. "She's a prodigy... Panopt needs prodigies to solve key barriers to implementation. Beyond that, I shouldn't be talking about it too much. This is secret stuff."

"Don't bullshit me!" You shout, trying to sound intimidating, but it just makes you feel stupid.

"If you think I'm bullshitting you, then you have your own version of the truth. Tell me."

"I don't know. I just know you're crazy. I know you won't keep your promise to Dad. You still think me and my sisters are from some kind of prophecy. There's no way you'll leave us alone, is there?"

"I don't put much stock in prophecy. To whatever extent you've been prophesied, though, you're on the path already. I've given your sister the tools we need to make the world a better place, and now I have confidence she will. So I have no need to resort to violence or coercion now. I'm not a maniac." He climbs down from the ladder to speak to you at your own level. Under the shade of the swaying branches, shadows mottle his face. "You may think my word is worthless, but I give it anyway. I will not harm a single person you love, Wesley. I promise you."

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"I don't believe you." You ball your fists and take a step closer. But you're really no match. He stands not one but two full heads taller than you, and he has a body honed by routine exercise and clean eating. He's a grown man. You're a little girl.

Absalom points at his pet tree from over his shoulder, using a backward-tilted index finger. "This tree? It's an excellent carbon sink. One of the best. In my retirement, I'll be planting thousands of acres of them in parts of India and south China. Just one passion project of many that I plan to tackle with the newfound leisure time. And I hope for other men and women of means to join my little crusade. Many hands make light work. But I'm not Pollyanna. I know that things are broken in the world on a level no farm of carbon sinks or schoolhouses in rural Yemen or water filters in communal African wells can ever fix. The world is an awful place, Wesley, and we are lucky to be insulated from the full extent of its horror."

"So what? What do eye implants have to do with it?"

"You look a little tired. It's too humid out." He cranes his neck, scanning for something, and finding what he wants, he plucks a dangling fruit of some sort from the tree. It looks like an oversized vanilla bean, black and half-desiccated, lined with pods along its crescent-shaped length. "The seeds of the rain tree are really good," Absalom explains, turning it in his hand. He traces a line down the back of the pod, indicating how to get into it. "Use your thumbs to pull it apart along the seam here. The flesh inside is edible. It's good. It tastes like cherry Pepsi."

He tries to hand it to you, nodding encouragingly. You're reluctant to accept anything from him. "I bet it's toxic," you say. "It looks toxic."

"Wesley, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need to fool you into eating something toxic. I'm not Wile E. Coyote."

You take it from him, despite your better judgement. What can you say? You've never seen a fruit quite like it before, and you're curious. You pull the pod apart. Inside is a series of walnut-sized beans, fleshy and sticky, the color of mahogany. You test one with a finger and find that it has a pleasing give to it. It smells like custard. You nibble on one: it's sweet, tangy, and rich in texture, like a gummy candy. And the juice when you bite down is tart in that way that stings thirst into submission.

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"Why us?" You ask. "Why my Dad's company -- why Ophie in particular? She isn't the world's only genius."

Absalom sets his garden shears down on the first step of the stepladder, folds his arms. "They're the right people for the job. They're like us -- you know, insulated from the world's worst aspects." He stares at the ground as he gathers his thoughts. "A tree like this one... I have to nurture it constantly -- as hardy as it is against weather, this climate isn't the best suited for it. I think of it as kind of like us in that way. Not comfortable in most places outside our narrow provincial world. Inordinately hungry and fragile -- a resource hog. But if you take it out of its comfort zone with the right diligence in care, it can do wonders."

You chew on the seed pod and sort of slowly shake your head.

Absalom goes from stony stillness to all limber, unfurling his arms, pointing at you in a burst of energy. "Do you know much about the history of Cambodia?"

"...Can't say I do."

"The term 'genocide' is a relatively recent invention, but its practice dates back to the earliest period of recorded history. Judging by the distinct lack of Neanderthal man in the modern world, genocide may as well be hard-coded into human DNA. But the genocides of the 20th century are unparalleled in their horror and savagery -- we industrialized massacre on a scale almost incomprehensible, in Poland, in China, in Bosnia. Of course the case you'll be most familiar with is the Holocaust... but the one I find worst of all is the Cambodian genocide under Pol Pot. Now this was a regime that wanted to perpetrate a classicide. They executed anyone with links to the bourgeoisie. Which meant lawyers. Doctors. Professors. School teachers. Anyone highly educated. But they started to run out of highly educated people to murder. So then it was on to killing anyone literate. Then anyone who only seemed too smart. People with accents. People who wore glasses.

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"And what they would do when they ran out of obvious targets is they would round up a random civilian, accuse him or her of crimes against the regime -- totally fictitious charges. If you protested innocence, you were told that the regime makes no mistakes and therefore you must be guilty. You would be tortured. Hours, days, weeks on end... until you provided a false confession, with a list of supposed co-conspirators, who could then also be rounded up and forced to provide even more names, and so on. After confessing, you were killed. You'd be hacked to death with an axe. Bullets were too expensive. This madman, Pol Pot, killed over a quarter of his population before he was finally ousted, and only then via foreign intervention.

"Now wanton murder on such a scale creates immediate logistical issues. These people had families. Young children, from infants on up to preadolescents. What do you do with these children once you've murdered their parents? They're extra mouths to feed -- extra mouths are tough when you've eliminated 25% of your labor force -- they're ideologically suspect, and when they grow up, they're liable to hold a grudge, to seek revenge on the regime. So of course you must also kill the children."

He points again at his tree.

"In Cambodia, the rain tree is called the Chankiri tree. The tree is native to that region. Chankiris grew like weeds in the killing fields near Phnom Penh. Khmer Rouge soldiers would take the babies of their victims, hold them by their ankles, and beat them against a Chankiri tree like a baseball bat until the babies' heads were reduced to fine red pulp." He tilts his head, just slightly. "This tree of mine, I had it taken from the Cambodian killing fields and transplanted here to the US. It's fair to guess that at least several thousand children were beaten to death against its trunk."

You feel a sick revulsion in your gut. Your shoulder slumps, your hand falls from your mouth, and you drop the seed pod into the damp grass. "What are you s..." you begin, but trail off, your jaw quivering the way jaws do before vomiting.

"What am I saying? That this tree has been nourished with the blood of innocents," Absalom tells you. "Its fruit is tainted. It's corrosive to your soul." He retrieves his garden shears, climbs up the stepladder, and sets working to trim branches with same meticulous effort as before. Examining the leaves, not you, Absalom says: "your father is responsible for this."

"What?" You stammer.

"Your father is responsible for the Cambodian genocide. He has caused every genocide in human history. Every war, every plague, every famine, belongs to him. He's all four horsemen rolled into one. Wesley -- your father, Alabaster Soliloquy, is Satan."

END OF EPISODE 10.
ED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOj_A3aZxGs

>>5124313
... what the actual fuck.

>>5124313
Ally's a what now? The fuck, Abrams?

>>5124313
Ffffffffuck

Good ep op, but f u c k

>>5124313
Fuck Abrams knows about God damn Sand Reckoner.

>>5124313
he unfortunately does have a point. If you give up on utopia, then you are responsible for the sins of the world.

This of course supposes that utopia was ever within Alabaster's reach. Or that it was in fact utopian at all.

42 trillion revisions would seem to indicate that utopia isn't all that easy to achieve. And moreover. that ANY level of human suffering is meaningless. in the face of cosmological timeframes.

once again Absolom likely only exists like this dueto the door Ally opened.

Doesn't. make him wrong though

WHY HASN'T ALABASTER FUCKED HIS KIDS YET

>>5124460
>>5125262
There are two types of FQ readers.

>>5124314
>>5124332
>>5124457
Absalom Abrams doesn't know about Sand Reckoner. Darkbloom is almost ways the source and cause of a Sand Reckoner-I'd say Alabaster's direct messing with 422 and the creation of Opie has led to the lore Darkbloom normally finds to have been altered and corrupted with direct references to him. By messing and altering with the stream of Sand Reckoner's creation, he has now tied himself to it like Darkbloom is tied to it.

>>5124460
Sand Reckoner has nothing to do with Utopia-that's how people like Darkbloom and others are fooled into making it but the Original Parameter/Organising Parameter/whatever the fuck has stated before that Sand Reckoner is just one of many systems-AIs that ensure every time a new universe is formed, the species that made them occurs in that iteration of the universe. Its basically a failsafe to ensure that humans will always exist in every iteration of the universe and that even if they die in one, they are carried forward into other iterations of the universe.

Alabaster could never stop the OP and he was told this directly. The reason he's working with Abrams now is because he's realised he can't stop Sand Reckoner so instead he's going to try co-opting it like they did in the last universe, hopefully without any foreign nationals getting involved like they did last time.

>>5125298
I fucking shilled for Ally clapping Wes' cheeks, Amber's cheeks and Opie's cheeks in the last thread we had and I'm not stopping now.

So, I haven't read Fuck Quest in long time. Haven't finished the 4th Season. Is it worth reading up to get here?

>>5125315
Absolutely. Honestly finish reading the 4th season for its own sake. Prepare for suffering.

>>5124242
>"We're wearing bodycams as a... what did bio-dad say... a propalactic. I think. Well -- it means that if Abbie does anything shady, the evidence is on the cloud, and he'll get fucked.
If he's planning to pull something. He'll pull it AFTER the Grain is finishee, and those bodycams will be less than useless. Not that Wes, Whitney or Ophelia know that.
Swear to God Ally this plan better be spectacular.

>>5124460
What makes him wrong is the idea that Sand Reckoner will lead to Utopia.
>>5125262
Or Ally fucking his daughters. Almost nothing good came of Sand Reckoner in U421 and I am skeptical of anything good coming this time around.

>>5125313
while the OP does indeed ensure the continuation of humanity, that isnt ALL it does .

it is pretty clear that OP has scenarios that are more and less ideal. Considering the end result of some of the bad ends this is understandable.

my pet theory is that all of human history since iteration prime has played out in a series of sagas or quests, with each quest progressing through as many iterations as needed to advance. Fuck Quest was repeated until it reached a satisfactory. conclusion.

however FQ ended in an anomalous fashion with Ally remembering everything.

perhaps FQ was the natural breaking point of the species, perhaps god like power requires suitably painful sacrifices and the prime civilization wanted to do better, perhaps Alabaster was the latest in a long line of protagonists, any way Alabaster was the crux of the situation and thus the most important person in the local universe.

Now Wes is. her choices define reality.

Aside from all that we the readers can strongly infer that absolom and his cult have real abilities to percieve past lives. The basic idea of this is present as far back as Scarlett regaining her memories of her son. It is fully realized in Alabaster's return. And it has been refined into a villianous technique by Absolom. Given that this is the case, Absolom can absolutely be said to know. About. SR. He prbably cant figure out the finest details because reversion doesn't give you access to the memories of other people. (meaning that people are forever locked into their own perspective )

>>5125725
>, Absolom can absolutely be said to know. About. SR. He prbably cant figure out the finest details because reversion doesn't give you access to the memories of other people.
So no one in his cult that he's been grooming to see this previous timeline had any visions of SR's catastrophic consequences? Because, no disrespect to any Cambodians in the wings, but it made the shit Abbie was ranting about look like a fucking schoolyard slapfight. World War 3, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, complete with killer bunnybot drones.
He has some information about what SR is capable of, and how to bring it into the world. But he doesnt know about what people will do to control it. Or worse. He doesn't care. Which to me, is also more likely.
"I won't harm a single person you love."
It sounds nice on the surface. But, it just makes me think he knows he won't have to worry about it. Leave all the loose ends to someone like Alyosha. Or Chloe.

>>5126493
see, this is sort of the point, and downside of viewing your alternate past lives.

They are -your- past lives. And its entirely possible depending on which interpretation of quantum mechanics is correct that Absolom's visions are unique only to him.

presumably there is some commonality or else the cult would immediately splinter into factions, but who Absolom IS depends very much on who he WAS.

(As an aside we can infer that there IS commonality in the past because everyone Alabaster has awakened to their past has experienced roughly the same past, but this isn't 100% proof especially since it occurs between adjacent iterations)

And there is a decidedly utopian bent to the cult. This world is awful, but oh boy we could have lived in this other world where everything is wonderful and the only bad things that happen are the ones I don't personally mind.

And if 422 sable was correct then something like that was actually possible. Humanity could have been stratified into pleasant little wavelengths of reality each person experiencing their best life.

Of course that would only apply to people who came from a reality in which they received Sand Reckoner with most, or all of the other people in their reality being replaced by non-SR versions of themselves like quantum echoes. Or yknow, vanishing.

This creates a sort of meta level inequality that would be cemented into reality by the nature of that version of SR.

A shared world is by definition an unequal world, sometimes horrifically there so. But sequestering everyone into idyllic paradise is also inherently unfair.

Perhaps Absolom believes he can thread the needle into a truly perfect existence, but I doubt it.

Clearly Absalom understands that this world is tailored to Alabaster's ends -- the OP made this world with Alabaster's desires in mind, and so Absalom is asserting that all suffering in the world is Alabaster's fault. In his mind, Alabaster could have created a utopia, but he chose this instead.

But that's not really how the OP works, and I can't imagine creating a utopia is all that easy. The OP is going through countless worlds trying to refine the process; this world is just one of those. And anyway, who knows what her aims are, really? It's entirely possible that she would just ignore him if he asked to change human nature on such a fundamental level.

On some level Alabaster is complicit in this world, but you would have to be deeply, deeply stupid to think that Alabaster was wrong for working with the OP. The world that the OP creates has flaws, but Alabaster is not directly responsible for everything the OP does, anymore than I'm responsible for everything Google does just because I go on YouTube sometimes. I wouldn't expect someone with the wealth and ambition of Absalom to understand that, though. He has the vast privilege to make his own Google, if he doesn't like how they operate. But it's not like Alabaster had any remote hope of making his own OP.

It's also highly hypocritical (or just arrogant) to blame Alabaster for trying to remake the world, when that's what Absalom is doing anyway. "Alabaster is Satan because his world sucks; I'm going to become a God and make a utopian world." Good luck with that, pal. You wouldn't be the first to fail. I think that's the core difference between Alabaster and Absalom/Darkbloom. Ally has some implicit understanding that other people need to be involved in the world-shaping process, because one well-intentioned person acting alone is inevitably going to fuck up.

>>5127036
P.S. WHY HASNT ALABASTER FUCKED HIS KIDS YET? This is his greatest moral transgression

>>5127036
This is very intriguing to me. It makes me think how one of the ideas OP (our OP) keeps harping in this spinoff is that the world of this universe is somehow even shittier than our world. From off the top of my head:

-Super COVID in the 2020s. Vaccine status now apparently on driver licenses
-Super storms that destroy the west coast every once in a while
-Implied this episode the Space Needle got blown up 9/11 style
-A bunch of presidents got assassinated
-School shootings are so common they arm students as a defensive measure.
-Alabaster hasn’t fucked his daughters even once.
-Many others I can’t recall right now.

If these problems are a direct result of the universe getting configured to Alabaster’s benefit, then Abrams could be exaggerating, and I agree he is arrogant to think he can fix it, but he isn’t -entirely- wrong to say Alabaster is to blame. I wonder if Alabaster himself has ever considered this question until now? I didn’t, but I also don’t live Alabaster’s life 24/7 (sadly.)

It also strikes me as odd that the ability to remember past lives is spreading ever since 422. Before, it was only Scarlett and Amber I believe? Now there’s a whole religion of people who can do it. Did Alabaster upset the balance of the universe by tinkering with it in the lighthouse?

>>5127980
I wouldn't assume many of the Instrumentalists have actually seen 421 and before, outside of Ms. Brant. Cults like their pecking orders and if they can based it on an arbitrary measurement that nobody can prove or disprove, so much the better. Which is to assert, a good portion of the guys in those Hooded outfits in an earlier thread have never seen any piece of Universe 421, but are high enough on the pecking order that everyone behaves like they do.
Abbie might be an exception, he might not.
If he hasn't seen Universe 421 than he's arguing from ignorance, pure and simple.
If he has, this motherfucker is going to get us all nuked so he can run to the Lighthouse and take a ticket to U423 like we did in the OVA. With markedly less fucking of anyone, much less Ally's daughters.

>>5128069
I believe Gideon also said he saw his past life or strongly implied it. I agree with you that it may not be very widespread in the cult’s membership however. I just am saying even if only a handful do, it’s more than before.

Here’s another thing. The weird prophecy about Wesley and her sisters that keeps getting mentioned comes from whalers or something who saw the lighthouse in the 19th century. I have a lot of confusion about what the lighthouse really is as a physical entity such as who built it, how it hides itself, and so on. In 421 I remember it being described as a secret Soviet project... so how does that show up before the USSR exists? Perhaps popping up in the 1900s could be less of a real sighting and more like these sailors catching an “echo” of the previous universe? It all seems to go back to Alabaster’s actions at the end of season 4. Because... just how did OP get Alabaster to remember his past life without him having any SR tech? Maybe what OP did is unintentionally causing a sort of “memory leak” in the universe.

It would be a delicious twist if Abrams is aware of all this but he can’t see his own past life. Maybe he’s just seething over that.

>>5128123
Keep in mind that the Lighthouse was a Soviet project insofar as that they were trying to find something that already existed. The OP has been there for a very, very long time. With a few more verys for good measure.

>>5113837
>build a new Space Needle out of it."

>"Too soon," you say.

>"It's been more than a dec-- you don't even remember 5/31.

W-what happened to the space needle?

>>5114009
>Pop had a much better suggestion for a name... but papa really did not like that one

Oh Ophie, you really are David's granddaughter.

>>5127980
Hey, we don't know that they got assassinated! (Do we?) I think that one was just OP amusing himself with the thought of Jimmy Carter being the only living former president well past age 100.

Honestly I'm not sure that any of this is *worse* per se. I think it's just (our) OP having fun imagining plausible future events and poking fun at current ones. Throw the super storms/terrorism in the former camp, the COVID and armed students in the latter. I do think it's fair to say Alabaster is responsible for this, but only in a kind of disingenuous butterfly effect sense. We would probably have a different set of bad things if it weren't for him, but there would still be bad things.

>It also strikes me as odd that the ability to remember past lives is spreading ever since 422. Before, it was only Scarlett and Amber I believe? Now there’s a whole religion of people who can do it. Did Alabaster upset the balance of the universe by tinkering with it in the lighthouse?
Yeah, this is interesting. I have to wonder if this is part of the OP's ultimate aim: creating some kind of connected human consciousness. It would explain the increasing levels of past sight, and it certainly links up with what we learned about her in 421: a connection with Sand Reckoner, a goal broadly involving world improvement, and a process that involves tweaking her past creations. And gee, it sure is a funny coincidence that 422 has even MORE people trying to create Sand Reckoner.

I think, in writing this post, I've convinced myself that the OP's end goal is collective consciousness for humans. How lucky that, after weathering the stains of time, she saw fit to do it under our red sun. Perhaps it has to be this way? Kind of a shame though, even after all she's done for humanity, a stranger she remains...

>>5128910
I foresee dark skies in our future, as the battle still rages within.

>>5128913
FREEDOM IS CALLING TO ALL MEN WHO BEND THEIR WILL
WIND OF DESTRUCTIOOOOOONNNN

>>5128910
It maybe that the OP is not as benevolent as it (she?) seemed upon first glance.
Perhaps not malevolent, but definitely self interested. The OP is artificial, of course, but I would guess it functions like any other lifeform. I.e. its prime desire is to survive and propagate itself. The OP said as much in the lighthouse in season 4 and even said it is subject to genetic drift and natural selection. If this is true, then it casts its mission in a whole new lighting. It guides humanity, not to make life nice for humanity, but to make life go on for itself, because it needs humanity to recreate it every cycle.

Alabaster, Amber, and some other major characters were major threats to the OP in 421, they wanted to destroy sand Reckoner. So perhaps the OP gave Alabaster a wonderful life NOT for Alabaster’s sake after all but to make him/the harem compliant and stop trying to end its own life cycle.

>>5124043
>Mount Gay
Great taste, Amelia

>>5124098

>old-school desk calculator
>LED screen

Oh fuck you

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>>5124313

The fact the ED for the episode wasn't Holiday in Cambodia was probably for the best, but still feels like a missed opportunity, even if it would probably have been too on the nose.

Also, okaeri OP Studios. I'm glad to have you back.

We've been gone for a while now, I'm actually trying to remember: Riley's parentage, I know he's Cerise and Anna's kid, but who put in the genes, was it Alex and Anna? I somehow remember that being what it was

>>5129914
Mother is definitely Anna based on appearances, father so far unconfirmed but speculated to be Alex. I'll bet they gave her a cocktail at the same time and left it up to chance.

>>5129914
General consensus seems to be Alex and Gal, given the kid has a similar earnest, excitable demeanor and bright red hair.
Though, Sable's also a redhead, and unstable enough to make giving the kid up to one of the more well adjusted portions of the harem a good idea.

>>5130106
>one of the more well adjusted portions of the harem
God, all things being relative, right?

>>5130129
Yeah. Though I'd say of all the girls in the 421 Harem, Cerise is the one I'd trust the most with a kid, after Scarlett and Charlotte, with Sable being dead last. Yes, including Chloe.
Before WSB, I'd have ranked Kay and Noelle a lot lower, but honestly, for an OP Studios production with its requisite debauchery and violence, they've been doing pretty well with Wesley.

So, this seems like Absaloms attempting to turn Wes againt Ally. Considering this and the fact that either he loves Ophie more than Wes or he would hate any of his daughters if they got another killed, it seems like it may work.

>>5132241
I don't think Wes is in deep enough to take things at face value, it might prompt her to ask some questions, which at this point might actually get answered, instead of deflected like they have.

>>5132241
Nah, there's no way Eyeball Guy is getting anything out of us in the end. Obviously tread with caution, but the guy's still a nutjob.

We really gotta reconcile with Ally though. Obviously he spoke hastily and out of turn during a stressful situation, but we know he loves Wes just as much as he loves the twins.

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Update for anyone watching the thread: No new episode tonight, next one will be on 1/29. Watch Twitter for an announcement.

Sunday I will post the lewd I skipped here, and I'll also be working to post something extra spicy as a bonus.

By the way, I've really enjoyed the conversation this past week. A lot of good ideas and I'm happy to see folks picking up on some of my themes, plus bringing new thoughts to my own mind.

>>5133567
LET ALLY FUCK HIS DAUGHTERS ALREADY

Don't feel obligated to do that. I know how mixed opinions are on that, don't feel obligated to take your story a place that doesn't feel right to you.

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the ally/amber zoo scene was totemo kawaii desu and i want to see it in canon

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https://www.op-studios.net/fq-lewd-wes30

>>5135925
Nnf.