#I fear all the emotions in my head are running around in a circle screaming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rukkiya · 2 years ago

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as long as it takes

obey me x reader ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

(forgotten AU part two)

“Mammon!” you call out, racing down the hall to his room excitedly. “ Are you ready for game night? I bought a new deck of cards so-“

“Ahh about that, we gotta put it on hold. Ya see, I promised Rachel I’d show her around ya know?” Mammon didn’t bother glancing back at you as he continued to look for his jacket. You stand awkwardly unsure of what to say, half your body in the hallway half in his bedroom. He’s never said no to hanging out.

“Ok yeah! Of course uh another day sounds fine no problem!” You nod your head, stepping back thinking he’d turn and invite you in, tell you just one match but nothing. He made no attempt to stop you as you walked away.

“Movie night! Your pick Levi-“

“Sorry, I planned movie night with Rachel.”

“I see! Tell me how the movie is!” You smile at him, not wanting to intrude.

“You know I’ve been wanting to paint my nails, we should have a spa day Asmo!” You perk up as you spot him sitting on the table tapping away on his phone.

“Dear I have already made plans to take Rachel to try skin care products with me, how about another day yeah?”

“Beel, Belphie we should-“

“But we promised Rachel.”

“Luci, why don't we listen to this new cursed record.”

“Don’t have time for that, I have to help Rachel.”

“Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.”

Their voices come to a halt and you're left in a dark room.

The backs of the brothers are illuminated a few feet away and you stretch your arm out, opening your mouth to call out their names.

“Rachel!” They all start walking forward, their voices happy and airy as her name comes out. That’s all they even seem to say nowadays.

Nothing escapes your lips and you see Rachel at the far corner. The brothers approach her, getting farther from you with every long stride they take. Never glancing back your way, not even once.

Rachel didn’t look at them calling out to her, instead she looked at you. Her features were sullen, she looked apologetic. Pointing behind them saying something you couldn’t quite make out.

You narrow your eyes trying to read her lips as her features turn into one of worry and fear. Her gestures become more frantic as she points your direction.

As you felt the sharp claws gash at your leg, did you realize what she was saying?

She was yelling at them to help you, from the demon student who attacked you. The one who now held you in their clutches. Wanting to take you away from them now that their guards have been lowered, now that they no longer have any use for the forgotten human exchange student.

You stretch your arm to Rachel and see her move forward, her own arm stretching out before everything went black and quiet once again. Feeling warm liquid run down your leg making your head snap down to inspect only to see blood pooling around you.

Immediately you sit up, eyes blown wide as you grab at your leg, wincing as you do so.

Not even a second passes as a pair of hands are on your shoulders and your name being repeated over and over was heard as the loud ringing in your ears subsided.

“Y/n, y/n it’s me you’re ok, calm down dear.” Simon nods his head in assurance as he meets your panicked gaze.

It’s been two solid days since you’ve moved into the Purgatory Hall. Two days and you’ve only gotten mere hours of sleep each night before you would wake up either screaming or in panic, always grabbing at your injured leg as you wake up.

His hands run soothing circles on your tense shoulders, slowly going down your arm giving you small reassuring squeezes before his hands wrap around your wrists, prying your hands away from your injury as it begins to bleed once again.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore than you already are my dear, your pain is too much for you to bear alone. Talk to me, tell me who did this to you.” Simon whispers, feeling your hands tremble though your face was void of emotion. That’s what scares him the most.

Your aching heart hurt the angle, the pain you were bearing was excruciating, far too much for a human to bear yet you've been feeling such pain for so long. He wasn't going to allow that anymore.

“Talk to me, please y/n” he calls out and you meet his gaze.

Opening your mouth but closing it, unsure if you were still dreaming or not, you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want him to walk away too.

You slowly move your hands in his hold and he holds his breath. Feeling you free your hands from his as you bring them up to his face, inspecting his features as you do so.

“D-do you promise you won’t leave? I don’t want to be alone.” You whisper, hands ghosting over his face, afraid he’d disappear that he’d turn his back on you too.

“No no no, I’m right here ok? I’m here,” his hands are on yours in a second, holding yours against his face and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying. Your eyes felt too sore to do so. “I’m not leaving you, I promise you that.” He nods his head and you nod yours as he pulls you into his chest, rocking you back and forward lulling you to sleep, hoping, praying you finally get some much needed peaceful rest.

The house of lamentation was eerily quiet. The usual noisy bickering that was heard amongst them was nowhere.

They had to force themselves to clean up the mess that was left behind after Diavolo had talked to them. Never in their time down here have they seen Diavolo so serious of course besides Lucifer.

As he explained your new living arrangements and the injuries you obtained when you were attacked it made them realize just how long it’s been since they’ve even checked up on you, far too long for their comfort.

Mammon and Levi held their breath as they scrubbed the blood stained floorboards, your blood far beyond seeped into the wood as they scrub harder.

Belphie and Beel were picking up the pieces of your shattered door, and Lucifer and Satan were at a meeting with Diavolo still trying to find the person who had attacked you.

Mammon hands scrub harder against the floor, getting desperate to erase the ugly dark color. Your room which was once filled with your scent, one he found immense comfort in was now thick smelling of iron and he couldn’t stand it.

The blood he was scrubbing off had gotten onto his hands and he felt his eyes burn.

His fists met the floorboards making the other brothers stop what they were doing.

“How didn’t we hear them callin’ our names? How long were they alone for? This is too much blood for them to lose.” Mammon whispers to himself, head falling as he feels his eyes burn.

“Not only that but they-“ Beel’s voice slightly cracks as he holds up the door knob that flew off when they broke the door down. “They locked their door. Last time we walked in it was open but it was locked when they were in here bleeding out. How long have they been locking their door?” Beel questions himself, making the brothers do the same. More guilt settles in their chest as they try and recall the last time they walked in here.

Footsteps running down the hall were heard for a second before Rachel and Asmo ran into the room out of breath, eyes wide as Asmo held out his phone for everyone to hear.

“Am I on speaker?” Lucifer’s voice comes from the phone.

“Yes, we can all hear you.” Asmo replies out of breath and there’s a long pause.

“I need you all to come down to Diavolo’s castle now, we’re having a meeting with y/n, to both make amends and find their attacker-“

Mammon was on his feet in a second, a surge of gold and white was seen before he stood in front of Asmo in a blink of an eye.

“Y/n is gonna be there? Ya have information on who attacked them?” Mammon asks, voice lower than usual making the brothers stand up as well.

“Don’t cause a scene Mammon, I advise all of you to heed my words as not only will we be discussing what exactly led up to the attack, but Simon will be here with y/n to discuss the situation as well.” Lucifer explains and they all gather around the phone.

“Y/n’s going to be there?” Asmo perks up a bit,his tired looking eyes widening.

“Are they ok? Will I be able to speak with them?” Rachel asks, she’s been wanting to check up on you but everyone including her wasn’t allowed to see you yet.

“Why is Simon going to be there?” Mammon feels his jaw clench, the mention of the angel's name making him furious. He knows he has no right to be angry but he just wanted you to look at him, talk to him. But Simon didn't give him the time of day to do so as he kept all the brothers away just like you wanted, just like they did to you.

“Just get down here. We will further discuss the situation once everyone is here.” Lucifer sighs, not knowing exactly how this will turn out but he hopes to atleast get to apologize for his actions. Him along with all the other brothers, they all want to apologize to have you back in their house and make amends

“I wont leave your side. I promise you that dear. We just need to discuss the punishment of the actions of the person who had attacked you. Yes they’ll all be there but if you don't want to speak to them no one is forcing you ok? But if you do, I'll give you space to talk things out, yeah?” Simon assures you, helping you go up the steps to the castle since your legs felt too wobbly standing alone. He offered to carry you but you declined.

“Why do they have to be there?” you ask him and he chuckles at your question. Getting up the last step he holds you in place as he adjusts your coat.

“Well they are the seven rulers down here, and though I know things are tough between you all and it doesn't excuse their actions. I'm sure that they are worried for you, that they want to see you.” He looks at you, tucking stray hair behind your ear and you furrow your brows.

“Do they i- its just been so long. I’m afraid they don’t feel the same- t-that they don’t miss me as much as I have missed them. I don't think they-”

“They do.” Simons stops you before you finish your sentence. He was still far beyond furious with the way the brothers have been treating you but he when he went down to the house to collect some of your clothes the day after he left with you he saw how much this actually affected them. He hasn’t seen them so quiet and sad since their fall, making him feel bad for them as well but he knows they are actions are what caused this. So he knows this meeting will help. It'll be good for you to see them, even if he doesn't want you to do it he can't be greedy, he knows they miss you. “They're worried I'm sure of it dear.” Simon smiles down as you let your head fall onto his shoulder feeling his chest rumble as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Thank you Simon, for everything.” you feel your eyes burn. Having Simon here was what saved you. You were beyond thankful for him and how caring and patient he's been through all of this.

“Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, let's get inside, it's too cold for you out here.” he gives your arm a squeeze, looping his arm with yours as you pull away to make your way into the castle.

The brothers all sat in the living room, all of them sitting up when they heard the castle doors opening along with Simon's voice.

Shortly after living room doors open. Barbatos steps in first, then Simon and behind him you trailed in, slight limp to your walk.

They all felt their eyes burn. You looked so different. Like the anxious person you were when you first arrived, but beaten and bruised. What have they done?

Mammon has to look away. He couldn’t stop the bounce of his leg as he sat on the chair. He wants to be the one next to you. He wants nothing more than to walk up to you and hug you, hold your hand, look you in your eyes. Just be near you. It's been too long since he has and he's finally realized it. Just how much he's missed his human.

“Shall we get this meeting started?” Diavlo walks in, sending a closed eyed smile your way as he slowly makes his way up to you.

“It's good to see you on your feet y/n, I hope you're feeling better.’ Diavolo whispers and you nod your head, already feeling anxious again from feeling everyone looking at you. “Y-yes much better, thank you for checking on me.” you smile crookedly and Diavolo feels his heart sink a bit, you look unsure and scared, a look he never hoped to see on you.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Diavolo sends a closed eye smile and gestures for you to sit. “Now, before we discuss the matters of your attacker y/n. The brothers have a few things to say beforehand.” Diavolo clears his throat and you stiffen up next to Simon, hearing the brothers stand up.

“Y/n,” Lucifer’s starts first, you keep your gaze glued on your lap. “No words can describe the shame I feel for not keeping you safer in my household, for not checking in on you and turning a cold shoulder when you reached out many times. My ignorance has caused such things to happen and I would like to apologize for what has happened to you while you were under my care. I don’t expect you to forgive my brothers or I but I do want to tell you how sorry I am.” Lucifer apologizes, seeing you curled up into yourself looking uncomfortable and scared made his heart heavy, he feels horrible for letting it come to this.

“I’m sorry for taking our time spent for granted, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we feel horrible for the way we’ve been acting.” Levi cuts in, speaking up during meetings wasn’t something he ever does but he knows he plays a big part in this he feels just as bad.

“I miss spending time with you more than I imagined, I’m sorry it took something like this to happen for me to realize.” Asmo wipes fresh tears that roll down his face making you squeeze your hands together. You heard sniffling coming from all around you, you don’t want to see them cry. You don’t want to hear them sound so sad.

“I didn’t realize our actions went so far, I’m sorry for not being there for you. I apologize as well.” Satan hands Asko a napkin as he speaks up.

“We never meant for it to go this far, for us to push you away to this point.” Beel squeezes Belphie’s hand as he speaks, feeling his eyes burn.

You bite the inside of your cheek, this was too much. You were surprised by their apologies and seeing them so emotional but it doesn’t take away what they’ve done, how long it’s been, even so, you still feel your heart ache. You want to forgive them but it’s going to take time for them to gain your trust again.

“I promised to keep an eye on ya, to keep ya safe and I failed the one important person I told myself to never let down. We don’t deserve your forgiveness y/n. I don't, I know I don't. But I just want you to hear this from me. I’m sorry for how I’ve been treatin ya. Though I haven’t said it in a long time I miss you. Your presence, your laugh, your smile, your stubbornness. Just hangin around and goofin off. I miss spending time with ya more than I can handle. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most.” Mammon's voice cracks and you feel fresh tears of your own roll down your face as you look up at him, he feels his breath get caught in his throat.

You don’t want to cry, don’t want them to see you cry. But hearing them apologize when you know they could’ve just kept on avoiding you made you more emotional than you already are. When your eyes met Mammon’s your felt a sense of comfort you’ve forgotten. One that you always felt when you would spend time with him. One that you’ve missed so much but you were afraid he didn’t feel the same. The look in his eyes held no lies as he looked at you on the brink of tears. Hearing him say those words, say that he misses you made your heart ache for him. For all of them.

“Y/n I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you got hurt.” Mammons eyes sting, you finally looked him in the eye and he felt relief.

He knows how caring and kind you are. How you forgive too easily for his own liking but he can help but feel weight lift off his chest as your eyes meet his. He knows how undeserving he is and selfish he is for wanting all your attention on him but looking into your eyes at this moment was like a breath of fresh air. He remembers exactly why he fell for you in the beginning. He wants to spend time with you, hang out with you again. Do all the things he used to do when you were home, with him. They all want you back.

“I-,” you creak and they all hold their breaths waiting for what you’ll say. Unsure of what’ll come out of your mouth, they know forgiveness is a process and what they’ve done was horrible but they’ll make amends, they swear it.

“I didn’t- I- I’ve just missed spending time with you all, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” You hiccup, wiping your tears and Simon reaches for your hand, giving it a small squeeze to assure you he’s still there. Simon feels a bit more relief, the pain you feel in your heart wasn’t so hurtful anymore, at least not like it was for the past few weeks. He knows this is what you need to heal, and he’ll be with you every step of the way. Making sure that the brothers don’t take you for granted again but also keeping you closer for himself this time as well.

“I’m so relieved you're ok y/n, I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner but trust me when I say your presence is greatly missed at the house.” You hear a familiar voice come from beside you and you feel more tears roll down your face as you look up at Rachel, fresh tears of her own escaping her eyes. She immediately steps forward to hug you, not being able to hold back. She didn’t want to see you cry anymore, she wanted you and her to hang out along with the brothers all together with no one left out.

You wrap your arms around her just as fast as she did to you and she’s taken aback about it. She knows your iffy with hugs and physical touch so you accepting her hug made her sniffle louder.

The brothers have to hold themselves back from moving forward too, they want to hug you, hold you and apologize but they know it’ll be too much at once for you. As much as they all want to hug you, they know it’s a process, they have to give you time.

Simon eyes them all, seeing them hesitate as to whether to walk up to you or not but they don’t. He won’t try and stop them but he knows they want to be close to you again and he doesn’t blame them. But he knows that they have to take their time with you. They all do, no matter how long it takes they will regain your trust and won’t take you for granted like they did before. They want their human back, the one who saved them all. They want to help save you, help you back on your feet and hope to grow a stronger bond than before.

You slowly pull away from Rachel and she smiles wildly at you, feeling more relief when you send her a small one of your own.

“I-I will tell you all what happened. I think I’m ready to tell you w-who attacked me. W-what exactly happened and what led up to this incident.” You exhale shakily looking over at Simon, feeling him squeeze your hand again nodding his head for you to continue. You don’t want to recall that day, say the name of the person who did this to you but you know they want to get revenge for your sake.

You take a deep breath, looking back at the brothers who didn’t dare speak over you, who all waited for what you’re about to say. They’ve been wanting to find the one who hurt you so they can make them pay.

“Take your time y/n, we’ll take care of the rest.” Mammon assures you, ready to hear the name of the unfortunate soul he will get rid of with his own hands.

You take another deep breath, nodding your head at him as you get ready to explain what happened, to have them help you by capturing your attacker. Though having them all here, all around you waiting for you to speak made you somewhat uneasy as you weren’t used to it you don’t feel as nervous anymore. You still were hurt by their actions, by what they’ve done but you know they’re trying to make amends. It’s going to take time but this is the start to make things better, so you’ll let them help. You’ve missed them and seeing them here listening to you shows you how much they’ve missed you too. Though you know it’s going to take time before things go back to how they were, you're willing to try to patch things up and hopefully grow close once again and spend time with the boys you once began to call your family.

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authors note:

authors note: hello lovelies ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و! LOOK WHATS FINALLY OUT OHMYGOSH THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I was so nervous to write part two let alone put it out but here it is :D! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AHHH I’m so nervous I don’t want this to be disappointing I was very skeptical to even write a part two bc I didn’t want to ruin it but I ended up writing one bc I couldn’t leave y’all in a cliff hanger LOL I had a hard time choosing a fitting ending so I hope this ending is fine geez I’m too nervous but I do hope you all enjoy!! i hope it’s a good part two ohgoodness hehshshs please stay safe and take care you all and once again I hope you enjoy! ^~^<33 (also this is unedited so sorry for any errors! WAIT ALSO IF YOU WANTED TO BE TAGGED MY TUBLUR ISNT LETTING ME FOR SOME REASON T^T I’m so sorry if you wanted to be tagged I tried to do so but no unseres were popping up every time I tired adding an @)

authors note: hello lovelies ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و! LOOK WHATS FINALLY HERE OHMYGOSH IT TOOK ME SO LONG IM SO SORRY!!!! I’ve made you all wait so long but I finally got around to writing part two :D! I WAS SO SCARED TO THO- I didn’t want to disappoint you all so I hope this is good! I did have some trouble with how I should’ve ended it but I chose a simple ending out of many and I think it’s ok? OHMYGOODNESS IM SO NERVOUSNDHDH ahhh here it is though! I do hope you all enjoy and it’s too your liking sorry if it’s bad shshusus but I hope you are all doing good and staying safe, please take care and once again I hope you enjoy! ^~^<33 (also most of you that wanted to be tagged I tried to @ you but your users didn’t pop up IM SORRY IF U WANTED TO BE TAGGED IDK WHATS WRONG WITG MY TUMBLR)

@108052921

#obey me #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me forgotten au #oneshot #obey me fic

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ticklishshenanigansau · 25 days ago

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LaughterLand - Chapter 30: Ambush

(story by Mod Secret, art delayed due to technical difficulties)

“N-No…! NO!!”

A sob caught in Papyrus’s throat as he and Sans stared into the many faces of their tickling enemies. Sans fought through the harsh trembling to grab ahold of Papyrus’s hand. Before he even had time to register what was happening, he whipped himself and his brother around to make a bolt back to the door.

Running on pure terror and adrenaline, they made one last desperate leap for it. But before they could even put so much as a fingertip on it, the ivory door vanished into nothingness, leaving the skeletons alone with their adversaries.

“No! No! No! NO!!” Sans shrieked as he pounded a fist on the ground.

It was gone, the door was really gone. They were trapped in an endless world of white with the creatures they feared more than anything in this world. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to defend themselves, nowhere to run. The skeletons trembled violently as the horde of villains approached them with wicked grins and greedy chuckles.

“Sorry, fellas, it’s sunset.”

They looked down to see Sky standing just off to the side of where the ivory door used to be. The traitorous spider adjusted his blue top hat as he spoke to them with that same cheery tone that now sickened the skeletons to their very cores.

“That door will be long gone from here by now. I did warn you that you didn’t wanna be caught out there after dark now, didn’t I?”

The skeletons just stared at him. Papyrus’s jaw trembled as it practically hit the floor. Tears came to his sockets as emotions of disbelief, sadness, and humiliation circled the poor skeleton’s Soul.

Sans’s Soul, on the other hand, thumped loudly in his ribcage. Not just from the fear of everyone closing in on the two of them. A white hot rage burned within his chest as he stared down at the spider they once dared to call an ally. Thoughts of vengeance swirled around the older skeleton’s skull, until he thought of nothing else but to squish that despicable bug beneath his foot. He shakily took a step towards him, the disgusting green bug dared to look up at him with that same good-natured gleam in his eyes.

“You….” Sans’s voice was low and intimidating, but rapidly grew in volume at the sight of Sky’s sunny disposition. “You … TRAITOR!!”

He screamed as he lunged for the loathsome bug. Sky effortlessly jumped out of the way, looking like he was about to make a break towards their other enemies, who were all watching and chuckling with amusement. Instead, he just moved a little ways in front of the group, still staring at the brothers with a cocky look in his eyes. The sight of the little green spider standing before the hostile tickling party really told the brothers how alone they had been this entire time.

Sans growled deeply as he stared daggers at their newfound enemy. He moved to lunge for him again, only to have Papyrus hold him back.

“Sans, don’t!” Papyrus tearfully urged. “It’s not going to help, brother!”

To Papyrus’s surprise, Sans still kept fighting to lunge after Sky, groaning and straining for Papyrus to release him.

“You should probably take his advice, big fella,” Sky responded with a colorful smirk in his tone. “After all, you’re going to need all the energy you can get. Especially when I get MY time with ya.”

“TIME?!” Sans growled hatefully, now using his own hands to physically pry Papyrus off of him. “You wanna talk to me about time, bug?!” He grunted loudly as he managed to pull away from his brother. “Then how about I give you a bad one, you dirty, lying, sleazy little—AGH!”

Before Sans could finish his rageful rant, a mysterious force latched onto his wrists and pulled them upwards. It dragged him several feet away from the little green spider kicking and screaming. Until he came to a stop right next to Papyrus.

“AGH! HEY!!”

At the sound of the younger skeleton’s cry, Sans looked over to see his brother’s wrists hanging high above his head just in the same position he was. They tried to kick and tug at their arms, but the invisible force would not release them. Sans looked closer to see that what was holding them up wasn’t so invisible after all … it was web! As four more thick, sticky web nets shot out of the white nothingness to restrain the brother’s ankles, they glanced back over at Sky who was letting out a low chuckle.

“Well done, Auntie,” he mused as he looked high above the brother’s heads. “Didn’t I tell you that I would find a decent meal for you and the kids?”

The skeletons let out a horrified gasp as they glanced upwards. The mother spider and her four spiderlings were descending down from high above them like something out of a horror movie. They had a happy and hungry look in their many eyes as they came to a stop just where they could meet their prey face-to-face.

“Did you miss us?” teased one of the spiderlings.

“Because we REALLY missed you!” joked another.

“Can we feed now, Mama? Huh? Can we? I’m starving!” chattered an excited spiderling as he dropped to the ground to skitter close to Sans’s feet.

“Patience, my darlings,” the mother spider spoke gently, following the excited one down to the ground. “Everyone will get their share.”

“Yeah! Don’t forget who found them first!” called the voice of the Ghost Boy, prompting the spiderlings to look around trying to find where the voice came from.

“Yes,” came the low voice of the Cheshire Cat. “Everyone here will get to enjoy them, thanks to you, my fine arachnid.” He moved closer to Sky to give him an approving look.

“Aw shucks, it was nothing.” A subtle blush decorated the spider’s face as he waved one of his front legs in embarrassment.

Despite their feelings of sadness and rage, the skeletons still couldn’t get over the shock of seeing Sky suddenly acting so cruel towards them. For the latter half of their journey, he had been their guide and protector. Saving them from the giant spiderlings, the predators of the jungle, the poisonous pollen from the talking flowers, and even rescuing them from the fearsome Chortlewockies. It was difficult to accept that, all this time, he was leading them right to an ambush. For Papyrus, it still didn’t make any sense.

“Why would you do this?!” the younger skeleton shrieked desperately. “I thought you weren’t even interested in the feeding of laughter! Was everything you ever told us just a big lie?!”

“Of course it was a lie, Pap,” Sans replied in a low and hateful tone, staring at the little spider with thoughts of vengeance. “He’s no different than any of these other freaks!” He spoke louder to address everyone else in the space with them, eliciting amused responses from everyone.

“Well, actually,” Sky replied coolly, “for a while there … I really wasn’t.”

Both brothers were taken aback by the candid response. For what felt like the first time, Sky’s tone didn’t have that usual cheerful disposition. It sounded real and genuine, like he wasn’t putting on a persona of being upbeat and optimistic. As he continued talking to them, there was no doubt in either skeleton’s mind that he was speaking with one-hundred percent honesty.

“I had never once had so much as a snicker before you two dropped in,” he began. “You’d think that’d be impossible for someone who was born and raised in LaughterLand, right? Well, let’s just say your old boy Sky Spider grew up as a bit of a picky eater.”

As he spoke, the brothers’ minds couldn't help but remember the first time Sky had literally crawled into their lives by crawling all over their feet. They could tell that the same memory was sneaking into the arachnid’s mind as he continued on.

“I was content for the longest time just feasting on the elements of clouds and rain. That is … until I accidentally tried to make a new home out of your feet. I was used to hearing laughter being drawn out all around me. I was around it my entire life. But this was the first time I had ever been the cause of drawing it out myself. The delight … the power … the … TASTE!”

As he went on reminiscing about their first encounter together, the little spider’s tone picked up with greedy excitement and he mindlessly wiped a bit of drool from his fangs. An uncomfortable chill came crawling up the skeletons' spines. How could this manic-sounding spider have ever possibly been their friend?

“I just … I don’t know what happened,” he went on, though there was a subtle look of craziness in his little eyes. “I just … couldn’t stop. Even after you fell out of the tree I just … needed more. I didn’t snap out of it until you tried to smack me.”

“B-But, you let us go!” Papyrus frantically pointed out, still secretly hoping to find whatever remained of their friend in this new bug. “Right? Why would you help us escape if you were still craving our laughter?”

Sky let out a low chuckle. But as the frenzied hunger slowly began to seize his face, the laughter shifted in pitch, growing louder and more deranged. The skeletons froze with terror upon hearing the unnerving sound. It was so maniacal, so unhinged. By the time Sky stopped to take in a breath, both brothers’ faces were agape with horror.

“Honestly…,” he breathed out, the crazed laughter now left to be a far-off echo into the white void. “I don’t know. Maybe I was still trying to believe that I wasn’t ‘like all the other freaks here’. But … eventually we all come to accept the true nourishment of this place. One way or another.”

Sans and Papyrus looked up to see the others smiling and nodding in agreement. It was a terrifying sight. For whatever reason, the unbridled laughter that was kept inside the two of them was the holy grail of heavenly feasting for these creatures. They wanted nothing more than to feast on them for all of eternity.

“After your cloud took off into the air…,” Sky continued, “…I lassoed onto another one to follow you.”

“Wait … you were following us the ENTIRE TIME?!” Papyrus shrieked in disbelief.

“Give or take a few steps,” Sky answered casually, brushing at the fuzz on his legs. “I kept telling myself that I was only going to have just one more light snack.” His expression turned smug again as he gazed at them. “Sure was adorable listening to the two of you tease and tickle each other, when you got a spare moment to breathe, that is.”

Sans and Papyrus felt their faces flushing, embarrassment filled their Souls as they heard the amused reactions from everyone around them. They wanted so badly to move their hands, just to at least hide their humiliated expressions.

“But…,” Sky interrupted the teasing giggles from the crowd. “That wasn’t good enough for me either. Any creature of this land worth their salt in laughter-consumption will tell you that the best flavor comes from a little … resistance.”

They skeletons looked up as the crowd reacted again, giving the spider nods, gestures, and words of approval. Clearly, they all felt the same way he did about the source of their food.

“I followed you on that cloud ride until that stick-in-the-mud Fear Beast took ahold of ya. Thankfully, you didn’t stay there for very long before he chucked you out like a pair of used feathers,” he went on, leaving Sans and Papyrus to relive all of the horrible things that had happened to them in this place. “I managed to feed off of the lanky one … at least until those worms of yours showed up, Dropwart.”

“Ha!” The Old Witch cackled as she gently scratched under the chins of her hissing serpents. “Sorry, spidey. It’s not my fault you left your prey wide-open for recapture!”

“Anyway … I wasn’t able to keep up with them after they drug you two away,” Sky explained. “And by the time I reached the old hag’s cottage, it was already up in flames, and you two were gone. Luckily you left behind a lotta good folks here, who you cheated out of a proper meal.”

He gestured towards the other adversaries. The Cheshire Cat and Tickle Monster smiled broadly. The Ghost Children let out a burst of sinister giggles. Dropwart made a show of cracking her knuckles while her serpents unleashed a hungry hiss.

“After we came up with the plan, I just had to find you again,” Sky continued. “It wasn’t hard, you fellas have quite the volume on those hysterical laughs of yours. And all I had to do was just include my dear Auntie in all of this.”

Papyrus turned his face away in response to the remark about their laughter. Meanwhile, Sans hadn’t let up on his hateful glare towards him. He gritted his teeth, making sure the traitor could feel every ounce of resentment burning through his sockets.

“So yeah, that long-winded speech was just your way of telling us what a dirty scumbag you really are!” Sans snapped bitterly.

“Oh, there’s no need for cheap insults, my friends.” The Cheshire Cat stepped forward, once again giving them an intense green-eyed stare. “You should feel honored. Your laughter is the tastiest treat these folks have had in years … decades even. It was so enjoyable that they chased you to the end of LaughterLand just for another sample.”

As he turned to head back towards the group, his long fluffy tail swished against the bottoms of their feet causing them both to jolt and choke back a subtle shriek of laughter.

“And now…,” he said slyly. “You’re about to make all of their dreams a reality. You’re about to keep everyone here as happy as can be … for the rest of all time.”

Sans remembered what the Cheshire Cat had said to them upon their first meeting — how nobody in LaughterLand ever feels satisfied after a meal, how they don’t feed to survive or to fend off hunger. It was all for the taste, all for the pleasure of making their victims suffer for as long as they were able to. A sickening feeling settled into his nonexistent stomach as he watched them all start to creep closer

“W-Wait! No! Please! Don’t do this!!” Papyrus shook hard in the sticky bindings as he pleaded. “Please! We won’t be able to take it!”

“He’s right!” Sans frantically added. “If you all come after us, you’re just gonna kill us from the exhaustion!”

For once, there was no underlining plan of escape in his words. Sans was out of ideas, and all that flooded through his mind was the horrifying thought of all of their fingers, claws, feathers, and bushy tails attacking every exposed inch of their bodies. All causing them to laugh to the point of passing out, or worse … dusting.

“P-Please!” he unwillingly begged as they moved closer. “Please! We’ll be no use to you if you literally tickle us to death!” He wasn’t even sure where he was going by putting the fate of their lives on the table. Panic engulfed his thoughts, and he would do or say anything in that moment to get them to stall their attack.

“Hmm….” The Cheshire Cat paused to ponder the older skeleton’s words. “Perhaps you do have a point there,” he mused, raising his paw to stop the other villains in their tracks. “After all, it certainly behooves us to … savor the flavor.” He greedily licked at his pointed teeth as he drew out the delicious threat.

“Oh, come on!” Everyone abruptly turned to look at Sky as he let out an aggravated scream of rage. “I have followed this prey across the entire realm! I’ve had to help feed them to the DOOR in order to deliver them to you! Now you’re telling me that I have to wait AGAIN?!”

His barking tone was so crazed, so unhinged, even borderline psychotic. Sans and Papyrus could feel their bones grow momentarily paralyzed with the terrifying sound. But what immediately pulled them out of their shock was the reply of the Cheshire Cat’s cruel chuckle.

“Oh, no, my friend.” The feline grinned deviously. “I wouldn’t dream of making you wait for this divine meal that you graciously delivered to us.” His gaze turned back to the helpless skeletons as they squirmed in the bindings of the web. “I’m merely suggesting that you and your kin have the first few bites, the rest can follow soon afterwards.”

The brothers trembled as they heard the happy sounds of the giant spiders hissing with delight. Even Sky seemed to calm down from his rage-filled rant upon hearing the Cat’s suggestion. The others, however, let their disapproval be known with long-winded sighs and disapproving groans.

“Aww, no fair!!” came the whining voice of the Ghost Girl.

“Yeah, we saw ‘em first!” followed the Ghost Boy.

“Yeah, so you brats have already had first dibs!” snarled Dropwart, still trying to figure out where to point her glare. “If you let me go first, I could at least make the laughter last longer.”

The Tickle Monster bared its teeth as it watched the spider family move towards the skeletons. The Cheshire Cat held up his paw a second time, silencing the group of disgruntled creatures.

“Patience, everyone.” His tone was soft, yet authoritative. He turned to look them all in the eyes. “You don’t all want to go at the same time do you? The short one makes a point. You must savor your time with them, take your moment when it comes. Feast and enjoy every sound that you draw out of them and know that you are the only cause of such delicious laughter.”

The way he spoke, it sounded like he was describing the experience of fine dining at a gourmet eatery. It instantly caused the bickering to cease amongst the antagonists as they began to dream of the rich rewards that came with taking their turns and savoring it.

The skeletons tried to speak, tried to come up with the words to form any kind of powerful protest, but they just couldn’t. Even Sans had run out of his usual snarky quips and comments. As they looked into each other’s terrified eyes, it finally sunk in … they were trapped. Horribly, hopelessly trapped. Even if they somehow managed to get out of this sticky binding, there was no way they could outrun or fight every single one of them. Nobody knew where they were, nobody was coming to find them. They were going to be tickle tortured … forever.

The Cat turned back to the now drooling spiders, the evil look in his eyes now wild with ravenousness.

“Dear Arachnids, do proceed. We’re all quite famished, you know.”

“With pleasure….” Sky’s voice was greedy and gravelly, he wasted no time sprinting towards Sans, followed by the much bigger mother spider and her babies.

“No! No! Wait!” Papyrus uselessly pleaded. “Please! Don’t do this to us! PLEASE!!”

“Keep up that begging, son,” Sky teased as he started the long crawl up Sans’s leg, causing the older skeleton to twitch uncomfortably. “They LOVE that!”

As the little spider disappeared into Sans's shirt, the older skeleton clenched his teeth, but couldn't hold back the strained squeal that escaped from him. The spindly legs weaved across and in between his rib bones, causing Sans to erupt with fits of distressed cachinnating and snorts.

"Bwaaahahahahaha!! Oh—Ohoho no!! Dohohohohon't!! G-Gehehehet ohohohohout!! Hahahahahaha!! Gehehet outta thehehehere you little—AAAAAGH!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

A panicked, giggling shriek tore from him as he suddenly felt the old familiar feeling of the oversized spiderlings using their coarse, hairbrush-like fangs to nibble on his toes.

"Heeheehee! Remember us?" giggled the nibbling spider before going back for more.

"AHAHAHAHAHAAA!! NOHOHOHO!! NOOO!! NAHAHAHAT AGAIN!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!" He couldn't even hope to hold back his pleas for mercy now. His entire body had been wracked so hard with every manner of tickling, there were no more defenses left to put up.

"Oh, yes! I think he definitely remembers us now!" squealed another as it proceeded to weave a silky web between the toes of his other foot. "Which means he also remembers THIS!"

The spiderling pulled Sans's toes upwards, leaving them taut and exposed. It wasted no time digging its fuzzy upper legs into the sensitive appendages. Sans lurched forward, hopelessly pulling against the sticky webs as manic laughter poured out of him.

"NYAAAAGH!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHO!!"

The older skeleton's gaze quickly shifted towards Papyrus. The other two spiderlings were crawling all over his ribs and teasing at the back of his knees.

"NOHOHOHO!! PLEASE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAP IT!! NYAHAHAHAHA!!"

The spiderlings responded with excited snickers and looks of giddiness in their many eyes. Enjoying the meal that Papyrus was providing, he was clearly still the favorite amongst the young arachnids. The mother spider hovered over the younger skeleton, her eyes frantically scanning in every direction where her children were crawling.

"Not too harshly, now," she gently instructed. "Remember to start on the lighter spots, then work your way up…." Her gentle motherly tone trailed off as her gaze slowly shifted to one of insane hunger. She let out a low growl, her tone now deep and gravelly as she stared down at Papyrus.

"You know what … I'm HUNGRY!"

She gently nudged one of the spiderlings off of Papyrus's upper body. As she lifted herself overhead, she began using six out of her eight long legs to poke and scribble against the poor skeleton's ribs and underarms.

"NYAAAAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAP!! STAHAHAP IT!! OHOHOHO GAHAHAHA...!!"

Papyrus trailed off into breathy squeaking, his eyes bulged out of his skull as he felt the two spiderlings repeating the process of stringing up his toes and nibbling between them.

Once again, Sans tried to use the sight of his brother as motivation to pull himself loose. But no matter how hard he tugged against the webs, they gave him barely enough slack to shake and spasm in place. A shrill squeal tore from him as he felt Sky crawling up towards his right underarm, not forgetting the many methods that he had used on the sensitive spot back at the door. As Sans's cackling grew harsher due to the four different tickle tactics applied to his hollows, he suddenly heard Sky's low menacing voice.

"This is only the beginning for you tasty morsels." Although the little green spider was a fair distance from his face, it felt like the cruel arachnid was whispering directly into his ear. "I can already hardly wait for my second turn to come. Followed by the third … then the fourth...!" His voice raised in pitch as well as crazed excitement as he went on.

But before he could continue with the verbal teasing, the tickling came to a complete halt. Sky, the mother spider, and all four spiderlings were abruptly pulled off of the exhausted skeletons by some strange, invisible force. As the hysterical laughter faded from the exhausted skeletons, they could hear the old familiar tune of the whistling coming from the Cheshire Cat. It didn't take long to realize that his eerie song had caused the spider family to be pulled away.

Once the whistling had successfully dragged the arachnids away from the brothers, a series of disappointed groans and childish whining came from the spiderlings, obviously unhappy with being cut off from their favorite food. Sky let out a feral-sounding growl as he turned to face the Cat, murder in his crazed expression.

"What. Was. THAT?!" the little spider shrieked in his menacing tone. "How dare you pull me away, Feline! I was just about to dig into the sweet spot!"

"Now, now, old chum," the Cheshire Cat tutted. "Fair is fair, I only allowed your family to go first as a thanks for getting them here. Now it's time to give the others a try."

As the devious feline conversed with the spiders, Sans and Papyrus frantically caught their breath, too terrified to allow themselves to rest and recover, knowing someone else was coming for them next. After nearly coughing on a puff of air, Sans quickly turned towards Papyrus.

"Pap…," he breathed out. "Are you … okay?"

Papyrus nodded tiredly, sweat glistening on his skull.

"I'm so … exhausted, brother…," he exhaled. "I can't … take another…."

"Oh, no worries about that, my deary!"

Dropwart's voice suddenly cut Papyrus off as she approached them. Her hissing snakes followed right behind her, their flicking, feathery tongues invoking terrifying memories in the frightened skeletons. She reached into her pocket to pull out a large flower. The sight of it immediately brought Papyrus back to the memory of the giant flower garden and he trembled. Sans noticed right away, although this flower was large, it was not sentient.

It was pure white with five large petals, protruding from its center were many bulbous red stamens. They looked soft and wispy and ready to be used as yet another tickle tool. But rather than bringing the delicate plant down towards an exposed tickle spot, Dropwart abruptly shoved the white flower directly into Sans's face.

"Smell this, deary!" she insisted. "It'll cure what ails ya!"

Dropwart's sudden and unpredictable movement startled the older skeleton. In his frightened gasp, he unintentionally inhaled a generous amount of the flower's aroma. It was sickly sweet, it almost reminded him of the potion Dropwart had made to turn him into a doll. But it had a bizarre spiciness to it that caused his sockets to water as he felt the scent traveling down his nasal cavity and into his skull. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to pull his face away from the strange scent, but Dropwart kept it close to his nose, making sure that the distressed skeleton inhaled as much as she wanted him to before pulling back.

As Sans's body absorbed the warm buzzing aroma, his Soul thumped steadily against his chest. He suddenly realized that his bones were no longer weak and heavy. There was a renewal of strength coursing throughout his body. As he drew in a long healing breath, he suddenly felt like he was strong enough to pull at the webs, almost feeling confident that they would break. He gave his wrists a harsh couple of tugs, but that was enough to tell him that despite this newfound stamina, they weren't going anywhere.

He glanced over at his brother; even the dizzying blur had faded from his vision. If he wasn't so worried about their predicament, the replenishment of his energy would have felt amazing. He noticed Dropwart pulling the flower away, having given Papyrus the exact same treatment. Sans watched Papyrus's expression change remarkably fast. From initial resistance, to disgust, to confusion, to a wary relaxation as his own strength was restored.

"W-What…. What just happened?"

Even the sound of Papyrus's voice seemed stronger. Dropwart let out her signature high-pitched cackle as she proudly held up the strange white flower.

"Meet your new best friend, boys … we call her the Ha-Hawthorne."

Sans couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of COURSE it would be called something like that.

"This beauty will bring back all of your energy, so we can keep tickling you … as long and as hard as we want!" She moved closer to their faces, her golden eyes childlike and gleeful.

Before either of them knew it, her snakes had slithered up behind them. They unleashed two loud and eager hisses as their feather tongues danced and flicked along the backs of their necks. Both brothers erupted in surprised squealing laughter, now stronger and louder than ever.

A sickening feeling of panic gathered in their bones. Despite feeling more energized and refreshed thanks to that mysterious flower, they knew this only meant that they would have to re-experience being tickled past the brink of exhaustion over and over again. It was a horrifying nightmare that they were trapped in, and quickly their screams of laughter morphed into screams of terror.

"NYOHOHOHOHOHO!!" Papyrus screeched, feeling the feathery tongue starting to flitter down his spine. "NOHOHOHO!! PLEHEHEASE!! PLEASE DOHOHON'T DO THIS TO UHUHUHUS!! PLEEEEEEASE!! AHAHAHAHAHA!!"

As Papyrus panicked, Sans unleashed a series of angry growls and grunts between his frantic cackling.

"GAHAHAHAHA!! Y-YOHOHOU—AHAHAHA!! Y-YOHOHOU UGLY OLD—AHAHAHA!! CROHOHOHOHONE!! AHAHAHA!!"

He wracked his brain trying his best to come up with a better insult to spit in her face. But his mind went blank with hysteria as the feather tongue of the magenta snake once again fluttered under his left underarm. Sans was no longer able to choke out anymore insults, and as a result, his unending laughter came out sounding angry and forceful as if he were trying to shout. Dropwart cackled again, amused at the skeleton's frustrated reactions.

"Well my pets, as much as I love to see you two enjoying a good meal…." She raised up both of her hands, teasingly showing off her perfect fingernails. "I'm afraid I can't let you have all of the fun!"

POP! POP!

Both of her hands disconnected from her wrists and crawled towards the skeletons faster than either of them could blink. The right hand crawled up Sans leg and began skittering around his ribs, making sure to take full advantage of his ripped shirt. Sans's voice responded with high-pitched squeaking and snorts as the snake moved on to the other side, and Dropwart's hand occasionally paused to dig in between the spaces of his ribs.

"Ohoho yes! You love that, don't you, deary?" Dropwart chuckled.

Her left hand skittered up to Papyrus's spine. She cleverly used a single finger to gently scratch and scribble the front of his spine while using her other flexible fingers to apply harsher tickles to the opposite side. Papyrus threw his head back, but nearly choked on his own laughter in the process as the lilac snake took the opportunity to flitter its tongue around to the front of his throat. Papyrus squealed and scrunched up as best as he could, but was so lost in laughter he barely knew where he was anymore.

"P-P-Plehehehehehease...!!" His voice was surprisingly soft as he begged through the giggles. "Pleeheease!! Hahahaha!! I-I cahahaan't...!!" He trailed off into silent laughter as tears gathered and fell from his sockets.

The whistling of the Cheshire Cat came gliding through the air, once again causing the tickling to stop as the snakes and the Witch were unwillingly dragged away. The brothers gasped and coughed hard, tears and sweat falling from their faces and landing with surprisingly loud drops on the ground.

"Oh, phooey!!"

Dropwart groaned as she was pulled back, her snakes, in turn, hissed with annoyance as they were forced to stop their game.

"Time's up, my dear," the Cat mused as his whistling came to a stop. "Afraid it's time to turn it over to someone else."

"Like me!" Sky's sudden gravelly tone once again surprised the group. "Give it to me, Witch! I'll make them laugh enough for all of us!"

He let out a skin-crawling cackle. As it echoed off of the white space, everyone, including the villains froze with intimidation. Everyone except the Cheshire Cat. Keeping his cool amongst the spider's mad ravings, he gently approached the insane arachnid.

"All in due time, my friend. All in due time," he assured, his voice somehow managing to calm down his sudden lunacy. "I assure you there's still plenty to go around. But first … we should let the children have a taste, wouldn't you say!"

Childish squeals and cheering echoed through the air, letting everyone know that the Ghost Children were floating just above them, dancing and leaping in their levitation.

"Hey!" Dropwart suddenly shrieked as she felt a mischievous hand start digging into her pocket.

Before she could properly react, the white flower levitated from her dress, now in the clutches of one of the giggling Ghost Children. In a flash, the flower zoomed past the LaughterLand antagonists and practically slammed into Sans's face. The spicy-sweet aroma was forced into the older skeleton's nasal passage and he nearly choked again as it burned into his system.

Once the flower was removed from his face to be shoved back into his brother's, he inhaled slowly, feeling the effects of the recovery spell bringing back his energy and stamina. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"P-Please…," Papyrus whimpered once the flower had healed him in turn. "Please no more, it's … it's too much!" His breathing shook with fear, again not knowing exactly where the Children were located.

"Too much??" came the Ghost Girl's teasing remark. "You hear that? It's too much!"

"Leave him alone!" Sans growled, surprised that the flower had even recovered the strain in his voice. "I mean it, you stay away from him!!" Sans knew how hopeless his threats were, but that would never stop him from defending Papyrus.

"Well, look at that?" mocked the Ghost Boy. "They think they can tell us what to do!"

"Well, we'll show you, ya big meanies!"

As a sudden gust of wind fell against Sans's face, he instantly became aware that somebody was hovering directly behind him. He tensed, uselessly searching for any kind of sign that would tell him where their fingers had been placed. He got his answer as he felt two little hands suddenly scribbling along the back on his knees and along his femur.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAP!! AHAHAHA!! STAHAHAP IHIHIT!! Y-YOHOOHOU DIHIHIRTY BRAHAHAHAHAT!!" he growled as he thrashed and squirmed hopelessly.

"Oh! Calling me a brat now. Huh?" came the voice of the Ghost Girl behind him. "I'll show you brat!"

She mercilessly began walking her fingers along Sans's soles of his feet. The angry laughter immediately turned into shrill, panicked giggling as he helplessly wriggled his toes against the torture.

"AAAGH!! NO!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! AHAHAHAHA!!"

"Then you'd better apologize for being a big old meanie!" the Ghost Girl teased, paying special attention to the way Sans screamed as she tickled along the balls of his feet.

"NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHOHO GAGAHASH NOHOHOHOHOHO!!" Papyrus unleashed a frantic squeal of his own as he felt the soft fingers of the Ghost Boy digging into his underarms. "NOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!! NO MOHOHORE!! I-HEEHEEHEE CAHAHAHAN'T STAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIT!!"

"Aww what's the matter, skeleton-man?" the Ghost Boy teased directly into his ear, causing a deep orange blush to form on the younger skeleton's face. "Huh? What's wrong? You can tell me what's wrong?"

"Come ooooooon!" taunted the Ghost Girl, digging her fingers in between Sans's toes. "You better say sorry if you want me off your tooooooes!"

Her voice was sing-songy, and it drove Sans absolutely bonkers how much fun the invisible brats were having with them. He looked up to see the other villains' amused grins and chuckles. A deep blue blush began to decorate his own face. With the children being invisible it must have been really entertaining to see the two of them just hanging there, laughing hysterically at supposedly nothing.

An anguished squeak tore from him as she began using both hands on his right foot. One digging between his toes, the other one harshly scribbling along the balls of his feet.

"AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!" The harsh, shrill laughter spasmed out of him as he thrashed. "AHAHAHA!! O-OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAHAHAY!! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!! I-I'M SOHOHOHORRY!! I'M SORRY—HEEHEEHEEHEE!! AHAHAHA!!"

It was humiliating, being tickled into saying whatever this little Ghost demon wanted. He greedily sucked in a breath as she immediately lifted her hands away from his foot to obnoxiously cheer for herself.

"Yaaaaaaaay! I win!" she shouted loudly. "Now for my prize!"

Sans's sockets flew open with panic as he felt both of her hands going after his left foot in the exact same way.

"What's wrong, Boney?" the Ghost Boy continued to tease, switching between going after his ribs and underarms to keep him guessing. "Huh? What's wrong?"

The verbal torment drove Papyrus crazy, it was utterly maddening how much this horrible child was toying with him. He wanted so badly to fly into a raging scream like Sans had done with Dropwart, but his words were lost in the unending giggles.

"What's wrong? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong? What's wrong?"

He couldn't take it anymore, he inhaled as much oxygen as he could manage.

"YOU'RE TICKLING MEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!"

And as if it were the secret safe-phrase, the whistling echoed through the white space, pulling the Ghost Children off of their prey. They groaned and complained, but the exhausted skeletons couldn't make out a word of it. They didn't even try to fight it as Dropwart snatched the flower away from the Ghost Children and aggressively shoved it into their faces again.

The spiced aroma reignited their strength much more, but they both just hung there, mentally drained above all else. They spared each other an exhausted glance, both too overcome with strain to speak or even offer any kind of look of reassurance to the other. As the Cheshire Cat confidently approached them, Papyrus swallowed hard.

"Well, I suppose it's my turn then, isn't it?" He grinned slyly.

All of a sudden, the Tickle Monster, who had been waiting patiently for its turn, let out a loud and aggravated grumble. The Cheshire Cat turned back to look at it, his wide grin never dropping, but a look of annoyance caught in his eye.

"Oh very well, old chap. I suppose you can join me in my turn."

Excitedly, the colorful beast lumbered over to Papyrus, grunting with joy as it raised up its long claws.

"No! No! No! Wait! Please!"

Papyrus pleaded, but it was no use. The Monster lightly dug its dulled claws into the younger skeleton's underarms.

"NYAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHO!! OHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! M-MAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Papyrus wailed miserably.

His giggling became shrill and squeaky once more as the creature's two bushy tails slipped effortlessly under his battle body and began bristling against his ribs. Sans, meanwhile, was left to deal with the Cheshire Cat. The grinning feline lifted his front paws up to tickle at Sans's hips while his bushy tail was left to swish along the older skeleton's feet and legs.

Sans and Papyrus laughed and pulled hard against the webs, though in reality, the tickle attacks from the Monster and the Cat were a lot tamer than the attacks from their previous adversaries. Sans realized fairly quickly that the gentle tickling was leaving him plenty of oxygen to enunciate a proper plea, or even an insult. But he kept everything inside, the consequences of insulting the Ghost Girl having finally taught him how hopeless his words were.

"Oh, come ON!!" came Sky's screeching voice over the brother's giggling. "Can't you do any better than that?! They haven't even started screaming yet, and your time is almost up!"

"Oh, I'm well aware," grinned the Cheshire Cat. "You see, I'm simply warming up my food while I wait for the … seasoning … to arrive."

He let out a low chuckle as he hopped down from Sans's hips. The Tickle Monster, in turn, followed the Cat's lead and stopped tickling Papyrus. Both brothers rapidly inhaled and exhaled, but with the attack having been so light, it didn't take long for them to recover at all.

"S…. Seasoning?" Papyrus nervously stammered. "What…. What on earth do you—"

"Hellooooooooo!" came a high-pitched voice.

From just barely off in the distance, everyone could see a trail of glimmering lights floating towards the group. Sans and Papyrus froze, an unspeakable terror filling their bones with lead, they felt dizzy enough to faint. They recognized the look of these multicolored lights immediately — the fairies had returned, and they were carrying a fresh new bag filled to the brim with Tickle Dust.

"No...." Papyrus's whimpering voice caught in his throat. "No … this … this isn't happening. Sans, please tell me this isn't happening."

"Oh, it's happening, old friend," grinned the Cheshire Cat. "You've been a wonderful main course for the lot of us. But I like to think that the best part of any meal is the dessert."

The group of fairies carried their new drawstring bag down towards the Cheshire Cat.

"Sorry we're late to the party!" squeaked one of them.

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting!" chirped another.

"Oh, not at all, my dears," the Cat replied coolly. "You're just in time actually. We were all about to dig in together."

Excited smiles and cheers spread across the villainous group like wildfire. The brothers cried out in terror and began thrashing and tugging against the sticky webs harder than ever before. It was their worst nightmare come true! Everybody was coming for them! Nobody seemed to care about taking their time anymore, and now they were literally going to die laughing!

"So where do you want this?" Asked one of the fairies holding onto the drawstring. The Cat laughed evilly, he turned back to the skeletons with a maniacal look in his big green eyes.

"Their worst spots … if you please."

As the fairies rapidly flew towards them, both brothers screamed in total panic. Overlapping each other with their screeching pleas for mercy as the fairies began applying their deadly dust onto Sans's grooves, and Papyrus's hips.

For several moments the skeletons' faces were completely frozen. Their eyes were wide and wild, and their jaws were locked open as silent laughter exploded out of them. For a moment, the world around them was dizzy and silent as they struggled to draw in a gasping breath. But when they did, it didn't resemble anything close to laughter, just unhinged, desperate screaming followed by sharp spastic inhalation. The tingling overwhelmed them in an instant, it was the picture of pure unadulterated ticklish agony.

They couldn't feel the tears falling from their faces, couldn't see the amused reaction of the crowd before them, they could barely even pick up the sounds of each other as they shrieked and cachinnated. Nothing except the agonizing tickling sensation. They barely registered what was happening as the villains began to slowly circle them. Gazes wild with hunger; claws, feathers, tails, legs, and fur all raised and at the ready.

"Alright my friends," announced the Cheshire Cat proudly. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for!" His voice was disoriented and barely echoed off the white space. "On my count … ten…

...nine…

...eight…"

The world around them began to spin, the creatures of LaughterLand suddenly becoming more blurry, even through their unstoppable tears.

"...seven…

...six…

...five…"

Within a matter of seconds, everything began to swirl together like an odd painting. Unidentifiable shapes and colors flew past them like a wild and bizarre-looking hurricane. They could suddenly feel themselves drifting, though they couldn't tell which direction they were going.

"...four…

...three…

...two…"

…

Everything went silent.

#Tickletober #Tickletober2024 #Undertale #LaughterLand Story #Sans #Papyrus

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starwitness42 · 5 months ago

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So first I had a horrible idea about the Torchbearer dying and Clancy having to seize his body. Then @sleepeys had to go and make amazing art about it. And now I wrote fic of it. Because my brain is rotted like an old moldy deck. So here's some fic if you want it! Be warned. Torchbearer is very much dead. Sorry Josh! The voices made me do it.

Clancy wakes up with lead in his stomach and a pounding in his head. He doesn’t remember much about last night, just the fire, the alcohol, and the Torchbearer’s arms cradling him safely as they slept. But hangovers have never felt like this before.

Something’s wrong.

He stumbles out of his tent, making it only a few steps before he’s throwing up in the dirt. But there’s no one around to see his embarrassment. There’s no one around at all. And the panic he’d felt upon waking kicks up another few notches.

He checks every tent, his unease doubling every time he finds another one empty. And he’s so focused on that, and on the campfire, slowly burnt down to embers with no one to tend it, that he doesn’t even realize it’s sundown and not sunrise until the sky begins to darken overhead.

How long was he asleep?

He searches his mind for his last memory. The Torchbearer had kissed him softly before burying his face in Clancy’s neck. His voice whisper quiet as he’d said, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Clancy knew that, Clancy knows that, but what Clancy doesn’t know is where the hell everyone has gone. And then it hits him.

Two weeks ago, Clancy had finally made it home. Two weeks ago, Clancy had been reunited with the Torchbearer, the real one, not the figment tasked with guiding him back. And two weeks ago, the Torchbearer had kissed him, not softly that time, and told him that if he ever lost him again, he’d die.

No, he thinks, and “No!” he shouts, though no one is around to hear him. They couldn’t have left, could they have? The plan was to attack Dema in one week’s time, for the banditos to create a disturbance in the city while Clancy went after Nico. Take down the king and the rest will fall. But that was supposed to be in a week.

Clancy runs, his feet carrying him wildly in the direction of the city, his heart pounding in time to the fears circling his thoughts like vultures. They can’t be dead; he can’t be dead. He tries to force these thoughts into the swirling mess inside his head but every time he does, the fear comes back at him with a vengeance, threatening to cripple him as he runs.

It’s the middle of the night when he finally makes it. The city is on fire, the world around him burning as he steps over the bodies of his fallen friends, green and yellow splashed with blood. And Clancy might be sick again if he had anything but fear and rage inside his stomach right now.

He looks down at the antlers, picked up without him even really realizing it, still clutched in his fists like a lifeline. And then he looks up at the tower, tears in his eyes, running down his cheeks, as he raises his hands, closes his eyes, and reaches out.

He can hear himself sobbing when the seize takes hold, can hear his own grief like an echo as he opens his eyes and looks up from the floor of a darkened room. He’s in the tower. He is in the tower, the Torchbearer is, his body not even cold yet despite being drained of the life that had lit him up like a thousand suns. And as that knowledge washes over Clancy, all he’s left with in its wake is incomprehensible rage.

He's screaming, his voice ragged with it, the emotion primal as he gets to his borrowed feet and meets the eyes of the bishop he was supposed to kill.

“Hello, Clancy,” Nico says, and though Clancy cannot see his face, he can hear the smile in his voice.

It will be the last one Nico ever wears.

They fight, the dagger the Torchbearer had died clutching against the one the bishop always carries with him, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Nico can’t kill what’s already dead, and Clancy will not stop until Nico’s lungs are as empty as the Torchbearer’s, his rage carrying him on through the fight until Nico is nothing but a lifeless heap on the stone floor.

He falls to his knees, dropping the blade so he can wrap his arms around himself, around the Torchbearer, one last time. His face buried in his shoulder, in the fabric of the Torchbearer’s hoodie, as he chases the scent of him before it’s gone forever.

“I love you, too,” he says with the Torchbearer’s voice. “You know that, right?” But the Torchbearer does not respond. And so in the end, all that Clancy is left with is the silence of the dead.

#twenty one pilots #twenty øne piløts #top #trenchler #torchbearer #clancy

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blessyourhondahurley · 1 year ago

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Suptober day 15 - Take Good Care of Yourself

A near-miss on a hunt pushes Dean's patience to its limit.

Suptober prompt: Abstract Flufftober prompt: Emergency, Confession, Adventure Fictober prompt: "Fine, explain it to me." Inktober prompt: Dagger

(Read on AO3)

“Because it's not a fucking abstract concept, Castiel!!” Dean was red-faced, shouting, his emotions a welter of anger and frustration and fear. He was holding his friend by the lapels of his trench coat in a white-knuckled grip, rattling him back and forth like a rag doll. “It shouldn't be that hard for you to understand what my problem is here!!!”

Cas allowed Dean's grip to move him, his mouth set into a grim line. He could have been carved from stone for all the reaction he was showing to the hunter's outburst. “Fine, explain it to me,” he growled.

It had started as an adventure but it had turned into an emergency.

The dagger, dipped in squid ink, should have felled the monster with a touch. But Dean had stabbed it three, four, half a dozen times without slowing it down. He'd dropped the useless weapon then and turned to run. He'd assumed Cas was following, that they would fall back together and regroup, make a new plan. But no sooner had he reached a safe hiding place than he'd realized he was alone in it. He'd peeked his head around the corner and felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of Cas, human Cas, mortal Cas, breakable Cas, grappling hand-to-hand with the monster like he was still a bulletproof angel.

Adrenaline had flooded him then, his heart jackhammering behind his ribs. He'd circled around the struggling pair, grabbed the monster from behind, and twisted its head clear off its shoulders in a burst of terrified strength. No sooner had the monster's twitching body hit the floor than he was stepping over it and grabbing Cas, screaming in his face, trying to shake him into understanding.

“You can't pull that hero shit any more, man! You can die now!!!”

“And if I do?” Cas asked with a shrug. “My life is mine to use as I wish.”

“Wrong, asshole!” Dean roared. “Your life is mine. And mine is yours. Haven't you figured that out yet??”

As love confessions go, it was more Bukowski than Shakespeare. If the sudden perfect feeling of Cas's mouth on his, hungry, desperate, was any indication, Dean had gotten his point across at last.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #suptober23 #day 15 #flufftober2023 #fictober23 #fictober 23

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 months ago

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Behold A Pale Horse Part 2

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Female Reader/ you

Content Warnings: Kyle Garrick is a rich wealthy man, female reader is poor, Kyle calls female reader: “Love”, “Darling”, “dearest”, and “sweetheart” in a casual and affectionate way, female reader's mental illnesses, mention of past trauma, Kyle's protectiveness, fluffy romance, emotional support, slow burn, angst, drama, action, military themes, emotional turmoil. Mention of blackjack and poker.

Words: 5429

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Credit for Template of Dividers: @cafekitsune

Summary: “I have a fucken feelin she's gonna crawl back like a fucken leech.” you were talking about your mother. “If you think my father was bad. She is just as bad.”

You knew he would die sometime, you just thought he would be alive for a long time and the age of seventy felt too soon. Even though he lived a long time, that he lived for quite a while. Ghost looked at you as you paced around the room as you heard the news.

Your heart felt heavy as you remembered the times you had together, the jokes, the missions, the fear. You had felt safe with him, despite his flaws and his rough edges. He had been a beacon of light in your otherwise chaotic world.

“I have a fucken feelin she's gonna crawl back like a fucken leech.” you were talking about your mother. “If you think my father was bad. She is just as bad.”

Ghost was there when you broke your hand punching a wall when you were on the phone with your mother. He heard the words “Stupid bitch.” followed by a loud smack and your pained scream.

He came running and found you cradling your hand, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.” you murmured into the phone before hanging up and collapsing onto the floor.

John Price must have heard you punch the wall, the concrete wall, the same wall he didn't think he needed to tell you not to punch because he thought you being a Colonel would know better. You could almost feel his disappointment in you as he walked into the room.

“Don't say it. I'm a fucken idiot. I know.” you muttered with your eyes firmly shut sitting on the floor.

John Price's footsteps were heavy as he approached you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “It's alright, Colonel,” he said in a firm but gentle tone, crouching beside you. “But maybe next time, we can find a better outlet for your anger.”

“Trust me. I don't plan on fightin' more walls.” you snorted.

Ghost remained silent, his eyes full of understanding, and he knew exactly what you needed in moments like this.

He didn't ask questions or try to give you false comforts; instead, he sat beside you, his hand landing gently on your back.

The warmth of his touch radiated through your uniform, offering a small semblance of solace in the coldness of your grief.

“You did a bang-up job on that hand.” Price remarked looking at your hand.

You laughed humourlessly. “Thanks. I'll be sure to bill you for the hospital visit.”

Price sighed, his expression softening. “Look, I know this isn't the time, but we have a mission briefing in an hour. You should get that looked at and try to pull yourself together for it, yeah?”

“I am well aware of that briefing. I'll be fine by then. I have at least five different emails reminding me of it from five different people.”

Price nodded, looking at the both of you before he stood. “Take all the time you need. I'll get the medical team to check it out for you, Colonel.”

“Finger crossed its either sprained or bruised.” you replied.

Ghost nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on your back. You felt his gaze on you, knowing he was assessing how much of this was an act and how much was real.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him, your eyes a little red from unshed tears. “I need to get going. We can deal with this after the briefing, okay?”

The nurses rushed around like a bunch of hens with their heads cut off. Normally you would be one of them. But you punched the wall, cried and now you felt fine somehow?

You let out a sigh and stood up, flexing your hand. It hurt, but you weren't going to let that stop you.

You had a mission to focus on. You looked over at Ghost, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of worry and something else.

You couldn't quite place it, but you knew it was there.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said, your voice a bit shakier than you would have liked. “I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Anything for you, darlin,” he said, his British accent wrapping around the words like a warm blanket.

You headed to the medical bay, Ghost following closely behind. The medics took one look at your hand and winced. “Looks like you've had quite the run-in with the wall,” one of them quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Picked a fight with the wall and lost at the same time.” you snorted.

The medic took your hand gently in his and began examining it, his brow furrowing with concentration. “Well, it's definitely not broken, but it's a bad sprain. We'll need to get you into a cast for a few weeks. It'll heal quicker that way.”

“So, I did good job hittin it?” you guessed.

Ghost chuckled lightly, his eyes still full of concern. “Could say that, Colonel.”

“Well. What I recommend you doing is, plenty of rest, no more punching walls, mirrors, or people for that matter.” the medic said, wrapping your hand in a cast.

“Damn. There goes my bare-knuckle boxing match this afternoon.” you remarked dryly.

Ghost's smile grew a bit wider at that. “Maybe stick to paperwork for a bit, yeah?”

“I don’t think I would be able to fight someone with only one hand just yet. I think it would the safest bet for now.” You forced a chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the room. The medic finished wrapping your hand in the cast, his hands deft and sure.

As he stepped back, you studied the stark white cast with a sigh. It was a stark reminder of your outburst, of your loss, of the tumultuous relationship you had with your mother. But you had a mission to focus on, a team that needed you.

“Alright, Colonel, let's get you to the briefing. We're already pushin' it close to time.” Ghost's voice brought you back to the present, his hand landing on your shoulder in a firm but comforting grip.

“Joys of a tight schedule. It's feckin tighter than a nun's puckered arsehole.” you muttered as you walked to the mission briefing.

Ghost couldn't help but laugh at that. “Never knew nuns had tight arseholes, Colonel.”

“Considering they've given themselves to God. I would like to assume they would. Otherwise, I might be wrong. Though I don't like to think of them in that way either.” you replied.

Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. “You always know how to lighten the mood, don't you?”

“As someone who has parents that were baptized catholic and should have been raised catholic. My sense of humour is still intact.” you answered.

The rest of the mission didn’t have another hitch. The factors of a head start of your leave were dosed in the promise of going to a military function.

You assured them you would attend repeatedly. As they would usually do. As you always manage to sound sarcastic even when you try to be genuine in tone.

You weren’t sure why they always managed to think of that first than to take you seriously. They weren’t used to your kind of humour.

Though you can’t say the same thing when it comes to Ghost. He picked it up fine.

But you never asked why that was. It wasn’t something you didn’t want to intrude on. As you thought, ‘Must be personal. I won’t go there.’

Ghost looked at you when you never asked personal questions, and for a moment, his gaze flickered with something unreadable. Then it was gone, replaced with the usual mischievous twinkle. “You're one of a kind, Colonel,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Talk when you want to. I won't force something. I know the effects of forcing someone to do something you don't want to do. So, if you need to talk about that let me know and you'll be free to do so.” you added as you both walked into the briefing room, the weight of the cast on your hand a constant reminder of the fragility of your mental state. “Just don't pick fights with walls.”

A mission later, a military function later and now in the front of the mirror inside your mirror in your hotel room. You were now going to attend a funeral for your father.

The cast still on your hand and the bruises slowly fading. The cast now taken off when your doctor took a look at your sprained hand. Muttering a few things under his breath, but mostly about how lucky you were and how much more it could've been.

The bruises had faded into a light purple, but you knew they'd be there still.

You told your doctor that you were on the phone with your mother when it happened during your deployment. Adding in that it was when you found out your father had died on the phone, and she had a few colourful words for you.

He nodded solemnly, understanding your pain. “Take as much time as you need to heal,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience with soldiers like you.

As soon as you left the doctor’s appointment, Kyle decided to take you to lunch, “Are you sure you're fine with eating there?”

You nodded, “I've been craving that burger for weeks. Let's go for it.”

The diner was a local favourite, filled with the comforting aroma of grease and the buzz of chatter. You picked at your food, the weight of the impending funeral heavy on your mind.

Kyle noticed your distraction, his gaze lingering on you with concern. He reached across the table, his thumb brushing the back of your hand gently. “You okay, darling?”

“I am dreading it. I don't think I could speak to her without another this incident occurring.” you answered holding up your hand still bruised and lightly wrapped with a bandage.

Kyle nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours, “I'll be there with you every step of the way. If she tries anything, I'll handle it.”

“Fingers crossed she won't. She's already blaming me for his death, never mind the fact that his health was never that great to start with by the time I was in the picture.” you mumble into your food.

“I do have a feeling they'll have it in the early morning starting at an obnoxious starting time too. Think 5am start kind of thing. Horrendous stuff. Early morning birds the lot of them.”

Kyle was an early riser, so the mention of a 5 AM funeral didn't faze him. Though you were not. You preferred a 7am start at the earliest. He found out when he stayed over once, waking up to a grumbling mess because of his 5 AM wake-up call. But, for you, he’d be there at 4 AM if that's what it took. Something you loved more than any expensive meal he ever bought you.

The first time this happened, you were so happy you cried, he reacted so fast you didn't have a chance to even get a word in before he had you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. But now, it was just routine. You felt the tension in the air thicken as you both got ready for the funeral.

The white button up dress shirt, the black asymmetrical four pocketed vest and black slacks. Combined with the crimson red tie. Your face completely covered with a high-tech space grey coloured shaped skull mask.

Your white shirt rolled up to your elbows and wearing black leather gloves. The gold tree leaf collar pin on the shirt's neckline, which is a symbol of your rank of colonel. Your hair tied into a mermaid's braid.

Your dad's funeral was coming up, you had to be there, much to your own dismay and hope you would skip the funeral to go there after your family left the century.

You took a deep breath as you picked up your lucky belt, the one your dad had beaten you with and somehow kept you alive. Ironic how it was used on your flesh, but it saved your life multiple times.

This was the reality of it now, your father is dead, long dead, this was supposed to be a small funeral. But what quantified as ‘small’ didn’t exactly seem that with how many children your parents brought into the world.

Along with most of your nieces and nephews in tow with your older brothers. One time you were happy with being the only girl in the entirety of eight children they decided to have.

Now you had to become the ‘strong one’ inside of a capitalistic scummy world that valued money over moral ethics.

The lives moving the company engine along over the work life balance you deserved it was non-existent.

You were good at punching your problems away in the past. Yet it never reflected it now.

If your mother decided to show up after abandoning you and your siblings, you would be sure to leave long before she made the age-old excuse of ‘late-night work.’

When her affair took precedence over their livelihoods. You still remember telling her she was disowned and disbarred from everything your life entailed.

The thought of seeing her at the funeral sent a shiver down your spine. The same spine that your father had broken. But that’s the thing about family, they come with baggage.

The amount of baggage often changed with how much money they had. And your family had enough to start their own airline. The only flight they cared about was the one taking them away from their problems.

You felt the weight of the mask on your face, a stark reminder of the double life you led. The one where you were a daughter, sister, and now, a colonel in a world that didn’t care about your past.

It was the same world that had crushed your spirit into dust, only to build you back up into this unshakable force. The mask wasn’t just for the mission; it was for the facade you had to wear at the funeral.

The tense atmosphere inside of the funeral home, let alone the old cottage inside the isles of Yorkshire.

The company skyscraper in London, the cotton and wool farm in Yorkshire, the vacation home inside of Alaska, along with other various things your father never told you about.

Not that it mattered now.

The old man was indeed dead now.

Deceased.

Entering Rigor Mortis.

Sleeping forever.

Dead.

A bonfire, a pyre, a wooden stake, and everything they would burn a witch during the era of the witch trials. What better way to give a funeral for your father?

The flames crackling and popping in the dark of the night. The heat licking at your skin as you stood in front of everyone you had to pretend to care about.

Your heart was racing but not because of fear or nerves, it was because of the rage that burned inside of you like the very fire in front of you.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, the flames reflecting off your mask, turning your eyes into a fiery amber.

You were getting ready for your solo date with yourself after the funeral. You weren’t going to do much. Honestly. People assumed you were kinkier than you felt like you were.

What do you mean wearing a garter panty makes you kinky? You saw them on sale, and you bought them because you felt pretty.

Why do you think like that? It is just a spiked collar with a bell. I got it years ago.

Why do you like wearing fishnet stockings to the office? Because they're comfortable, that's why.

What do you mean you’re single? Aren’t you like thirty now? Yeah. But no one wants to date me. So? Who cares?

How are you going to find someone if you wear that shit? Well, that sounds like a you problem not a me problem to have. Good luck unpacking that bullshit.

When are you going to give me grandchildren? When you show up for your children and start being an actual mother.

Why do you always have to wear black? It's my favourite colour. Besides, it matches everything.

But it’s for the funeral. You're supposed to wear something more... respectful.

You would be more respectful. My father is better man dead than he was ever alive thank you very much.

Why haven’t you forgiven your mother? Well, she’s to blame for a lot of things happening to me and I will never forgive her for it.

It wasn’t your mother’s fault your father decided to take it out on you for her leaving you and your siblings with him. Why can’t you see how you’re hurting her? She made a choice to make more than one affair with her lovers. She knew what would happen. I don’t care what she wants anymore.

Why do you have so many piercings and tattoos? Because it’s my body, and I can do what I want with it.

Why are you so defensive? Because my entire life I’ve had to fight to be seen and heard. To prove that I’m more than just the daughter of a man who didn’t deserve the title of father.

Why can’t you concentrate? I have a condition that makes focusing on one thing at a time an endless struggle.

But you seem so together. How can you have a mental illness? Because mental illness doesn’t have a face, darling. It’s not something you can spot from a mile away. It’s the hidden battles we fight daily, behind the smiles and the nods.

ADHD is not a thing, my son isn’t like this. Why are you lying? Because it’s a part of who I am, and I’m not going to hide it anymore, Mom. You should have listened when your husband beat me into ‘listening’ to him.

If you didn't say anything about it your father would have loved you more, been around you more and wouldn’t have hurt you. If you behaved like we wanted. None of this would have happened. Are you sure that is the rabbit hole you want to walk down?

You’ve had enough. You turn around and walk out of the room, not bothering to hear the rest of her guilt trips.

You don't need to be around that kind of negativity today, not when you’re trying to breathe without feeling like you’re choking on your own tears.

The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the quiet house. It’s a relief to be alone, even if it’s just for a moment. You lean against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

You've heard it all before, but somehow, it still stings. You’ve spent years building up a tough exterior, but the words of your mother still manage to find their way in, digging at the tender spots you've tried so hard to protect.

But today is not the day to let her win. You have a date with yourself, and you're going to enjoy it. You straighten up, smoothing down your black dress.

It’s not what everyone else expects you to wear, but it’s what you feel like wearing, and that’s all that matters. You look at the time, realizing you're already running late. The theatre won't wait for you, even if you wish the world would.

“It was stupid to think she would admit it was also partially her fault.” You muttered to your co-worker at the bar.

You had just told him about your mother’s accusations and his eyes widened, his hand froze mid-air with a bottle of whiskey. “Your father’s funeral, right? That’s why you called in sick for work?”

“Yeah. I don’t know whether it was the right thing now. I should have worked today instead of attending.” You answered.

“Your mother is a complete and total bitch. You know that, right?” He said, his voice gruff but concerned. He had seen you at your worst, and he knew the history between you two.

“Yeah. Oddly enough she only got worse after he died.” you were sipping your white Russian cocktail.

He nodded, placing the bottle back on the shelf. “Well, she can't ruin your day anymore. What's your plan now, love?”

“See a movie, have dinner and take frozen yoghurt home to devour completely.” you answered.

“A perfect plan, if I say so myself.” he winked and slid the drink to you.

“Good food is something I will always look forward to.” you chuckle with excitement. Looking forward to having a good meal for dinner tonight.

You didn’t know what it would be from the enormous amount of choices around you. But you knew. You knew there is going to be something you will enjoy.

Kyle walked into the theatre once you were in the seat you paid for. Along with nachos with extra cheese, two large diet cokes, and a box of chocolates.

He looked at the feast you bought for yourself to have with the movie. “It's not a date if you don't eat your weight in junk food.” You said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled and set the snacks down, sliding into the seat next to you. “How was it?” He asked, his voice gentle, and eyes concerned.

“Worse than a horror movie somehow. My mother is somehow far worse than a dead man now.” you answered.

Kyle’s expression tightened. He had heard enough about your mother to understand her cruel nature, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing you in pain.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You know you don’t have to take that shit, right? You’re more than what she says you are.” His voice was firm and comforting.

“I went to the bar hours before. I told Larry, Lawrence, this, he agrees that she's a stone-cold bitch. This is also the same man who dates older women by the way.” you replied.

Kyle’s smile was small but knowing. “And yet he’s the voice of reason today?”

“Yeah. After a White Russian cocktail and two 'holy water' cocktails. He gave me a shot of cinnamon whiskey which he mixed with vodka and said it’s for the soul. I guess that’s one way to get over the shit of a family I have.” You said, a small laugh escaping your lips. It was a sad laugh, but it was something.

Kyle nodded, his grip around you tightening for a brief moment. “You’ve got me. That’s all that matters right now. Let’s enjoy the movie, okay?”

“The 'hole water' cocktails were quite nice by the way.” you replied.

He kissed the top of your head. “Good to know. I’ll have to try one next time I’m there.”

You were more than a little content with him there. Even if you never did things together, all the time, it was enough to know he was by your side. Your eating habits were weird to be sure, but you warned him many times before hand, and he never made you feel bad for it.

Your mac and cheese was the perfect temperature, just a hint of crunch on the top from the oven, and the nachos were heavenly with the warm, gooey cheese. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until the food hit the table. You dug in with enthusiasm, the salty, cheesy flavours mingling with the sweetness of your chocolates. The comfort of the familiar tastes washed over you like a warm blanket, a stark contrast to the coldness of your mother’s words earlier.

The movie began, and you tried to lose yourself in the action-packed scenes, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with your mother. You could feel Kyle’s eyes on you, his concern palpable. He reached over and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. It reminded you that you weren’t alone, that there was someone who cared about you, who saw you for more than the sum of your past.

The film was a blockbuster hit, full of explosions and car chases that had your heart racing. You couldn’t help but think how surreal it was to be here with Kyle, a man who lived a life so different from your own. A man who, despite his wealth and status, saw the real you and didn’t flinch at your imperfections. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever.

As the movie progressed, you found yourself leaning into Kyle’s side, your shoulders brushing against his firm, muscular frame. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, the touch grounding and soothing. You watched the screen, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the warmth and comfort of his presence.

As you slept in the hotel room with your earbuds in to block out the background noises of the city, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the ticking of the analog clock in the hotel room. You were asleep faster than you would have been after drinking a warm glass of milk doused in melatonin.

You would be back inside your cottage inside of Yorkshire soon. It may take a while. It will come to you soon. You think to yourself. A small temporary mantra to ease yourself into a heavy slumber. Easing yourself into a comfortable routine you know more about than London and its streets.

The routine was and remains to be quite boring to those who knew or didn’t know you. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered until you had at least eight to nine hours of sleep inside you. A golden rule you always had to maintain some assemblance of peace inside your soul. Not that you were ever religious about the ‘soul’ or ever argued what made a ‘soul’ a ‘soul.’

The satin eye mask you wore didn't just shield your eyes from light, it served as a symbolic barrier between you and the tumultuous world outside. The silk pillow cover over the body pillow you kept to your chest to help you sleep alone at night. A small comfort among the many you kept to yourself.

The satin pajamas you wore to bed were handmade by your late grandmother, a soft and warm embrace that brought a semblance of comfort to the cold, sterile hotel room. The warmth of the outdoor socks you used a bed socks to keep warm. Your mind began to drift as the darkness of the room wrapped around you like a cocoon.

As you slept deep inside the cocoon of heavy blankets.

Back deep inside the penthouse of London’s most expensive, luxurious buildings owned by Kyle's father. A building so high, it seemed like it could kiss the stars, if only it tried hard enough. Though if his father was in fact allowed to have it kiss the stars. It would be done with no questions asked, and no doubt with the finest gold-plated cranes money could buy.

Soap hadn't been introduced to you just yet, but his reputation preceded him. Kyle had mentioned him in passing, a fellow SAS operative with a sharp wit and a penchant for trouble. You'd seen his face in a few photos around Kyle's flat, a grinning man with piercing blue eyes and a mop of hair styled in a mohawk. Not too outrageous as the ones you had seen growing up.

“My older brother has one still. Though his has width of a small bird. Dyed it pink and it hasn't been any other colour since.” you told him.

Kyle chuckled at your words, his eyes not leaving yours. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “I bet he pulls it off better than anyone else.”

“Considering he pulls off a cocktail dress. I doubt there is something he couldn't.” You quipped back with a smirk, feeling his breath on your face. The conversation had been light, a welcome reprieve from the shadowy world Kyle was entangled in.

Now, as you were in the hotel room, Kyle talking to Soap in person, “Soap, I don’t know if Ghost has told you this. But I don’t think she needs a lesson in anything MacTavish.”

Soap’s smirk didn’t waver, didn’t budge, didn’t move from his face. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about her. But I’d like to see her skills for myself, Gaz. It’s not every day you get to spar with someone who’s seen more action than a Hollywood blockbuster.”

“Or you could settle for Blackjack and watch her take his money instead?” Ghost said his voice over the phone.

“Cheeky bugger,” Soap said, his smile evident in his voice. “But, I’m more interested in the action than the gambling. Besides, I can handle myself around a poker table.”

“Poker and Blackjack are different.” Ghost reminded him. “Blackjack is all about maths, and you know how good she is with numbers.”

The phone line crackled with Soap’s laughter. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave the gambling to her and the brains. But I’m still looking forward to seeing her in action, Gaz. It’ll be like watching a ballet of bullets and brawn.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to know you’re eager to watch her dance with danger, Soap. Just remember she’s not just any operative.”

“Understood, Gaz. I’ll play nice.” Soap’s tone was teasing, but there was a hint of respect beneath it.

You were known to play like a loan shark when it came to blackjack. Ruthless, precise, and cold. It was your way of coping with the world. The numbers never lied to you, never hurt you, and never disappointed you. It was a game that made sense to you in a world that rarely did. The thought of playing poker with Kyle's friend made your stomach twirl, but in a way that was more excitement than dread.

“You better. Otherwise, any poker game you play with her? You'll end up paying for it.” Ghost quipped, his voice a mix of humour and caution.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Ghost. Besides, I enjoy a challenge.” Soap's reply was filled with the kind of confidence that could only come from experience.

Kyle chuckled. “Keep that in mind when you finally meet her. She's not just a pretty face, she's got brains and brawn. You might learn a thing or two.”

The line went silent for a beat before Soap spoke up again. “Looking forward to it, Gaz. How's she holding up?”

Kyle’s eyes softened at the question. “As well as can be expected. She’s a tough one, that’s for sure. But she’s got a lot on her plate.”

“Family issues?” Ghost guessed.

Kyle nodded solemnly. “Something like that. She’s got a past she’s trying to outrun, and it’s catching up with her.”

“Yeesh. Price told her it would come knocking when she least expects it to.” Ghost’s voice was filled with a mix of sympathy and the bluntness you were used to. “Just keep her safe, Gaz. That’s all we can do for now.”

“And tell her to come to Glasgow for once. She’ll be more at ‘peace’ here than in London.” Soap remarked with a laugh.

“She’s from Yorkshire, Soap. She’s not exactly keen on Glasgow weather, unless you’ve got a sunbed with her name on it,” Kyle said, his eyes not leaving yours as he spoke into the phone, a gentle teasing glint in his eyes.

“Yorkshire’s weather is nice during summer. Absolutely freezing in Winter.” Ghost reminded Soap. As if he wanted to drill in the fact, you were happy living in Yorkshire and preferred to visit other places.

“Summer in Glasgow isn’t exactly a tropical paradise, but it’s still worth a visit. Besides, I’m sure we can manage to warm things up for her.” Soap’s voice grew slightly darker, a mischievous twinkle in his tone that made Kyle smirk.

“And I am certain you will most likely find yourself broke and upset long before the entire week would end.” Ghost and Kyle told him in unison reminding him you would take what he for what he is worth from his hide during either a match of blackjack or poker.

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aether-link · 5 months ago

Text

Let’s have a sad hc fic of yangvik shall we? (emotions are all over the place and been thinking of this for a few days).

Cw: death, extreme depression, heartbreak syndrome, old age.

First up, I personally have this thought that Raava just genuinely extends the life force of every avatar. (All my homies pour one out for kuruk😔) Compared to their companions who don’t really have that light energy extension. SO…

Yangchen and Kavik are the same age right? They are pushing 100 or around early 100s, Yangchen over time has personally given Kavik days off from avatar duties to be with his family and other tribesmen. Mostly a week too two weeks he has, Kavik mostly goes on hunts that also take majority of that time. By the time he gets back, he always brings back at least a new wound or scar. Yangchen doesn’t really like that, when she finds a scar or a fresh opening somewhere she’s on it, quickly healing it. Though Kavik is mostly riddled by now, she always shakes her head in disapproval though forgives him.

Things start to slow down for Kavik. His health mostly, the sheer stress of the past catching up to him. Duty and fights taking a toll mentally but more physically. A day he goes to set out, preparing for a hunt. He is home with what family he has left, Yangchen is there to (thanks to his mother, Yangchen is always welcomed to his home and family no matter) but this day was different for him. Things felt off, slow, uncomfortable for him. The weirdness of slow breathe, Kavik had to sit down. A few deep inhales until a wave of pain struck him in the chest, clutching himself there. Yangchen flew into action without even speaking a word. She was on it. Supporting his weight while he sits keeling over, using her healing she figured out what was happening to him. A silent heart attack.

Panic set into her, wide eyes. Eyeing Kavik’s face that is now drenched in sweat. Fear now over takes her, her knowledge in the human body is vast, once a person has an attack the rest that follow are more harsh until death, if your lucky.

Yangchen upset spoke with a stern voice at Kavik. Telling him do not go hunting, he is in no condition no more. Only for Kavik give her a smug smile with a look that she knows to well, a look of “I’ll be ok, it’s alright…” but no. Yangchen brows flex, eyes sharp, a frown dawned on her face. Her figure shadowed over him who was still slumped in the seat he took, reality grew on his own face. She was the boss. His life is now in her hands from now on.

Months had past since the attack. Kavik felt less in energy then before, what he would report to Yangchen on the daily on how he felt. It would give so much relief when he was ok. More extra comfort is when they slept together, respectfully. Yangchen would have a routine throughout the night checking Kavik when he sleeps. A hand on his back, chest, then pulse checks on his neck and wrists. To catch anything of the abnormal through out his body. Things seems to be fine until a week later.

Yangchen doing her check ups, half asleep for to be fully awake after discovering that Kavik is silent. A silence that was eerie and deafening. Throughout that night a second silent attack had happened, before her check ups, just her luck. Yangchen is in a horrible mess, scrambling to a lifeless Kavik who slept by her. There where no signs on his face, no signs of stress on the outside, the only evidence she could find was his still heart that felt like it was strangled from the attack that hit hard, feeling it with her water bending. Yangchen now beginning to hyperventilate, mute sobs. Running her hands over his chest trying to bring him back though nothing prevailed. Finally she let it out with a scream that bursted the windows, rattled the doors of the home they lived in. So loud that it made other water tribe members wake and rush too the house, only to find what cause such a scream of horror.

She hasn’t slept in weeks, dark circles under eyes, pale complexion and now underweight. Her solid rock that gave her peace is now gone. Yangchen started separate herself from the world. Started to ignore pleas, asks for help, avatar duties, literally everything. The woe was taking over her day by day, to weeks, to months evolved to years. Chaos was dawning. Even spirits started to break worlds without her interference and cause destruction. People and nations kept at her, everything was too much now. Even Raava that tried her best to ground her was unsuccessful.

Yangchen looked like death itself, a being of no other. Strangely things where going quiet, all the pleas stopping over time that kept falling in deaf ears. Finally she thought to herself, a perfect time to flee and disappear without witnesses. The place she now stays at, the cove in the side of the mountains where no one could see. Yangchen lazily mopes day in and day out. Her depression completely took the wheel of her life now, she could bearly eat anything and when she did, pain. Pain shot through her chest, specially around her heart and lungs. The suddenness made her think rapidly, more attacks? This was something else, she never even felt like this before until now. The pain grew in waves then stopped, it was torment.

The pain and the depression was at its maximum at this point. Yangchen laying against the wall of rock. Hissing the pain out when it struck. Her heart felt like it was tearing apart, it hurt to breath. Raava broke the silence, for a moment Yangchen had forgotten about her, her words where soft and comforting to hear after a while of stress. When Raava spoke, she mentioned something that Yangchen had never heard of when it came to human health. Why didn’t anyone tell her? Why didn’t anyone report such a rare like thing in history.

Broken Heart Syndrome. Valves of the heart ripping apart slowly over time from suffering from extreme depression, stress or grief of a lost loved one. Kavik’s loss affected her so harshly that she never wanted to admit it. But it was true, he was the last being and even thing that gave her joy, happiness, a reason to live another day. Why did she hang on after so long after his passing? Was it self false hope? Perhaps. The pain is back, Raava’s words faded when it became to unbearable. Grunts and gasping for air came from Yangchen, her hands death grip her robes in a fight for life. Things where blurring, sound was getting more and more quiet. Raava spoke more, her final words sounding like a gentle guidance. Yangchen started to realise what was happening to her, to herself. Her last few moments. The gasps sounded horrific to the ear, weakness grew all over. Yangchen’s body gave a last ditch effort, an effort too cry. To let it all out once and for all. For this this life. Soft lights shun around her, just making it out from failing vision until complete darkness. Raava. Saying her goodbyes to this avatar who lays before her motionless and finally at peace, the great air avatar Yangchen.

#yangvik #Yangchen #Kavik #Raava #sorry not sorry 😭#felt like being THAT person today.#sad. suffering. depressing love? yes

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robinewe · 5 months ago

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Bottled Emotions

2k, setting: heroes and villains, rated G

A car down the road screamed to a halt, four men wearing masks jumping out and running into the nearest building. I looked around. The street was deserted except for me.

...Well, if that wasn’t suspicious activity, I didn’t know what was. And if the logo on the van was any indication, this could be the organization I’d been tracking for a while.

For lack of a better disguise I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head, shrouding my face with shadows. The sky was dark as well, thunderclouds blocking the sun and threatening to storm later today. For now, there was a brisk wind, but no rain.

I tapped a finger to the center of my forehead, drawing out a crackling yellow strand of electricity. As it left my head my shoulders relaxed, now that I didn’t have some silly emotion distracting me. A bag hanging off my shoulder made a clicking sound as I pulled it open to fish out a small glass vial labeled ‘fear.’ This covered a small range of emotions, from anxiety to apprehension to dread. I put the sparking string into the bottle, sealing it tight and putting it away.

Ruffling through the bag some more, I found a glowing red one. It wasn’t hard to find, as it illuminated the entire bag, mixing its harsh red light with softer glows of other vials. I uncapped it and carefully held it over my eyes, allowing some of it to slip into my consciousness.

This process in total took less than a minute. A red glow of confidence tinted my vision, giving me exactly what I needed to go and confront these suspicious characters.

I scanned the building for a point of entry that would give me some kind of advantage, and as luck would have it, there was a fire escape leading up to one of the second-story windows. I climbed that easily, and peered through the window, giving the situation a quick glance before sliding it open. There were three men standing under a sole light illuminating the warehouse, all seeming to be focused on something on a table that they blocked from my view.

Not one for subtlety, especially with the extra confidence, I jumped down onto a catwalk above their heads, landing in a crouch and making a loud clang. All three heads turned to look, drawing weapons as well.

“So, guys, what’s the evil scheme this time?” I called down to them before jumping off the catwalk to slide down one of the columns supporting it.

Considering this wasn’t a planned thing, it was weird that none of them looked surprised. “You that kid who’s been messing around with the locals?” One asked.

“I’d say I’m more of a teen, or a young adult maybe, but yes. That’d be me.” I circled around the three men, all of them watching me warily, and circling in turn while still guarding the object of their seeming fascination. They still hadn’t given me an opportunity to see what it was. “...And you’re next.”

Dispatching the criminals was a simple task. I sprang at the nearest one, the one who had spoken, and with a swift kick to the head he was down. I used the momentum to carry myself into the next guy, who’d been trying to sneak up behind me. Well, that wasn’t going to work.

I blocked his first attempted punch, grinning with the adrenaline, and grabbed his forearm to swing him up and over my head into a flip. He collided with the third man as well, knocking them both to the floor.

I laughed. “I hope that teaches you a lesson! I’ll take you down, and anyone else who messes with this city too!” But I think they’d all already been knocked unconscious before I’d finished speaking. Ah, well. I put my hands on my hips to survey the fallen opponents, then, satisfied, went to examine what they’d been after.

On a desk in the middle of the room was an unassuming black briefcase. I flicked it open immediately, and… In hindsight, that might have been where I went wrong.

I’d forgotten about the fourth man. I flew backwards as the case exploded, hitting a column.

“Perhaps we could teach you a lesson,” he said dramatically. “Mind your own business.”

“Yeah? How about no. Turn yourself in, or you’ll end up like your friends, here,” I said weakly, gesturing to the motionless bodies laying around. I was still reeling from the minor explosion, though as far as I could tell I wasn’t really seriously hurt. The confidence still running through me gave me a bit of a boost.

The man was about to respond when a tremor shook the building. He looked towards me as if somehow I could be causing it, while I looked around checking the windows and doors to find the source.

Then a wall of flames erupted in front of me, blocking the man from my sight. “Another time maybe,” I heard him say, and then I couldn’t see or hear him anymore. He had gotten away.

A figure appeared from the smoke, leaning over and offering a hand.

“Come with me if you want to live,” she said. I looked at her doubtfully, wondering if she was making a joke or something, but took her hand anyway. She pulled me to my feet, made sure I was stable, and made for the front entrance of the warehouse. I followed immediately after, not wanting her to think I was slow or something. She looked back over her shoulder for a second, and the flames died down as quickly as they had come.

So she had some sort of fire powers. She’d probably be pretty useful if she ever wanted to help me fight criminals.

“We should do something about them.” I said, gesturing to the criminals still laying on the floor. “I brought some zip ties. It’d be a waste not to make sure they’re safely in custody before we leave.”

She glanced at me, slightly exasperated. “No, actually. We don’t have evidence they really committed any crime. We can’t legally arrest them, so we’ll be leaving them here.” She swung open the double door entrance of the warehouse, letting some of the dim light from outside in.

“Then what’s the point of this? Why are you here?” I demanded, closing the door roughly behind myself.

“You’re a rising vigilante. And a good one, at that. The sooner someone takes you out the better. I’ve dealt with rookies before, and I always keep an eye on them in case they get into something they can’t handle,” she explained.

“I definitely could handle that, excuse you,” I crossed my arms.

“Your thing is emotions, right? Do you have a default mode, or are you always in crime fighting mode?” She asked. I frowned. I didn’t need this kind of criticism. “Do whatever it is you do to fix yourself, please.”

I didn’t want to follow anyone’s orders, but she was obviously curious about what I could do, so why not make a show out of it? I begrudgingly ruffled through my bag to find the vial labeled with ‘confidence,’ which still had some extra red glowing substance in it.

I glanced at her before tapping my finger to my forehead again, drawing out the emotion that had been a source of the energy that I needed to confront criminals. My mind went still while I transferred the strand almost automatically into the vial, capping it, and searched for the next emotion I wanted. A simple, light green one stood out to me, even though it didn’t glow nearly as much as some of the others. I poured some of it into my eyes, blinking to absorb it fully, and felt a subtle glow of satisfaction for the job I’d just done.

“So that’s what you do,” she mused to herself. Good, she was impressed. “What emotion do you have now?”

“Satisfaction. The bright red one I just took out was confidence. I kind of used a lot of it, so sorry if I was a little…” I trailed off, self conscious now. “Um, do you want to see the other ones?” I asked. She nodded eagerly, but then paused.

“We should probably go somewhere safer first.” As her eyes hardened I realized that she had been doing this a lot longer than me, and her ordering tone suggested that she’d be suited to a leadership role very well. I wondered if she’d been on some kind of team of vigilantes before. “I have a hideout near here, that should do.”

I gestured for her to lead the way, and she started weaving her way through the city’s alleyways, finally coming to a stop outside an inconspicuous door. “Here?” I asked.

“Yes. I have tons of these all over the city,” she explained. “It’s safe.”

“Alright,” I shrugged. She held the door open as I walked in, taking in the surroundings. There was a couch with some blankets on it, a small table with some chairs, and a sink with some cabinets. “Not used much?” I asked.

“Not really, no.” She gestured at my bag, and I only hesitated a moment before carefully taking out all of the vials I had and arranging them onto the table. I had some of almost every color, varying strength, brightness, and quantity in each bottle.

“The glowing red one’s confidence, which you knew, and the softer green is satisfaction, which you also knew… The electricity yellow one is fear or stress, that kind of thing.” I went down the line, next going to a light blue one that was slow moving like honey and a completely still, dull grey one. “The blue one is calmness, which is pretty useful. The grey one is anger, but more of a cold anger.” One of them was shining with a brilliant white light. “That’s happiness,” I said simply, pointing to it. “And sadness,” I said, looking to the deep black one next to it. That one was full, unfortunately.

“What happens when you’re not using any of them?” She asked.

“...Nothing. I mean, I just feel nothing,” I shrugged again. “My mind used to produce emotions naturally, but then I started bottling them up, and I guess I ran out. They’re all in here, now. Sometimes one will come up naturally, like this one,” I put a finger on the crackling yellow one. “And I just take it out. That’s why some are more full than others.”

She nodded, deep in thought, and gestured to the last two bottles. “Which ones are those?” One was a mellow orange, with a more liquid-like quality than most of the others. The other had a solitary string of deep, shimmering purple, by far the emptiest bottle.

“The orange is excitement, joy, that type of thing. I swear it’s not just orange juice. The purple one, that’s, er… attraction.” I admitted. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, but that was alright.

“I see. Do you know how to use them?” She asked finally.

I blinked. “Yes? ...What do you mean by that?”

“You almost got blown up today because of taking too much confidence. It’s lucky you weren’t seriously hurt. Do you know how to balance these, and use them to your advantage?”

“I think so. I’ll be more careful next time,” I nodded in assurance. She stared at me as if to see if I meant it, then nodded in return.

“Then you can officially call yourself a vigilante, I’m giving you the go-ahead. Use this safe spot whenever you need it, call for help as needed too. The community will have your back. ...Good luck,” she said, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

I frowned. Was that it? Was that all it took to be a vigilante? What if this had been some sort of elaborate initiation ceremony?

...Either way I never saw her again.

#writing #my writing #fiction #story ficlet #writeblr #flash fiction #villain #hero #snippet #superhero #superheroes #superpowers

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krethes · 1 year ago

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(Continuing my efforts to break out of my writer's block...sad Remus & Lily content)

It's hard, seeing someone you love—the first person you ever loved—in pain. He wasn't used to it, not like Lily was. She saw him in misery every month, visited him in the Hospital Wing with a sack of sweets and a thermos of heavily honeyed tea for his scream-raw throat. But Lily never let her hurt show, not when Snape betrayed her confidence, not when people called her names, not when Death Eaters fired off lethal curses around her.

But she's in his arms now, broken, sobbing. It's not quiet. It's loud and gasping and a deep, unending pain, and Remus knows it. Knows it so keenly, he can barely stand to be here with her. But he must. He will. No one can bear this alone. Remus had Sirius. Lily normally has James. But they're on a Mission, and even the news of his wife's mother dying was not reason enough for Dumbledore to bring James home early.

What a load of shit.

Remus has long since started to see the heartlessness behind their general. Perhaps it's necessary. Perhaps it's what they need to do to win against a ruthless, genocidal maniac. Or perhaps he's just too focused on the mechanics and not the cogs making it run.

His shirt is soaked with salty tears, and Remus would do anything to lessen her pain. He gathers Lily closer, kisses the top of her head, her forehead, her cheeks, and briefly, chastely, her lips. She tastes like salty tears, too. It's not sexual. It's just…comfort. She sighs against his mouth and buries her face into his neck after a few seconds, crying silently now save for a hiccup or two.

Remus rubs her back in soothing circles, though it seems pointless. He can't do anything to help. A cheering charm would only force laughter and a smile, but her heart would still be breaking behind it, a hollow, jagged mockery of the true emotion.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers when the sun has gone down and the moon rises, fat and heavy in the sky. It's not full, but close, and Remus hopes Sirius will make it back before then. Make it back at all. Lily's voice is frail and torn, hoarse from her crying. Her scent is sour, misery and anguish and fear, but Remus doesn't shy away from it, overwhelming as it is.

"I don't really have an answer for you, love," Remus admits. His mother died a few months ago and he still wakes up with wet, tear-streaked cheeks. He still thinks about visiting her in Dover, but remembers she's buried in the neighboring town as he's pulling on his coat. And his dad, well…he's fucked off to Merlin knows where. Left behind an absolute mess in the house, vanished into thin air. Maybe he's dead, like Lily's dad. Maybe he's just trying to disappear. Remus wants to, sometimes. Just get up and run and run, outrun the horrors that plague him.

They've lost so much this year. Friends, family, sleep, innocence. Remus has committed sins he can't even tell Sirius about, and the knowledge of that haunts him like a ghost.

Lily is quiet for a long time, but Remus senses she has something she wants to say. "Your dad…" She clears her throat and looks up at Remus, her fair eyelashes clumped together, cheeks wet. "His library, he-"

"Lily." Remus cuts her off with a sharp shake of his head. "No, it's not-"

"It's not fair! I don't- I won't…I wouldn't do anything, I just… I just want to know if it's possible."

Remus sighs and rests his chin on her head. "It's possible." He'd read through everything. The loose leaves of parchment scattered around his dad's library that spoke of reanimation, resurrection. Necromancy. The theory was sound. Remus immediately checked that his mother's remains were still undisturbed after, and was relieved that his dad hadn't gone through with it. Or hadn't yet.

"Can I just-" Lily bites her lower lip and pulls back to look up at him again. "Please? I just… to pretend. Just for a little while. That I could…that she could be here."

Remus closes his eyes, fighting the drowning pull of her grief. He's never been good at saying no to her, and has been even more rubbish at denying the allure of the darker magics. They both share that, the appreciation for the mysterious, the forbidden. Maybe it's how they were raised. Maybe it's the dark creature in Remus. Who's to say.

"... Alright. Get your coat. I'll show you everything."

#remus lupin #my fics #lily evans #lily potter #lunarflower #cw: parent death #cw: grief

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dyrewrites · 9 months ago

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Before Deluca -- Danse en Rouge pt5

We had remained unstained through our first two encounters, relying primarily on our teeth, but it took one and one alone to fill us. So the next I devoured was necessary only to wash out that gluttonous blood—and I should have taken another.

They were behind one of those horrid doors. Three cherubs adorned it, crouched over a bird with vicious grins in their sweet faces.

That door filled Lucient’s mind with memories of chains, burning flesh, gaping wounds and goblets overflowing with his life. Laughing women held him, purred in his ears and cooed of all the pieces they would take and take and take. Stronger as he became after his death, teeth long and sharp, skin cold and thick, harder to split; the women still did not fear him. They took more, and more, flaying skin from muscle and delighting as his wounds closed. Moreso in how much warmer he burned after an angry bite of their flesh, a bite they begged for again and again—forced it with strange words and throaty chants—even as they tore into him with sharp knives and sharper smiles.

Yet, much to my confused elation, while violent and horrid all...none of what they did was sexual. It was, perhaps, wrong of me to take comfort in that.

I went into the room first, certain to hold him behind me, and found all three on the large bed, entirely naked—which created more confusion. They held daggers; blades and skin covered in red. All three were identical in every way I could see and all three set fiery eyes on me as I entered. And the scent of that room, of them, it sang familiar...sparking with the same mesmerizing stench as the Sea Witch. But there would be no time to ask of it, as they addressed me.

“Wrong room, oaf,” The one sitting in the center of their half circle growled, eyes shining through her bat mask.

Beside her sat one in a mouse mask, tilting her head left and right, studying me as she spoke, “You are too big to play with us.”

The last wore a rat mask, and only giggled into her blood-soaked hands.

Hearts were painted on their cheeks, clear even through the messes they’d made of them, and by then I’d figured what those meant. They marked Lucient’s clients, and it dawned on me that if it were an annual affair and they all attended…

Yes, treasure, he confirmed my mulling, I tended to the desires of all of them, throughout the weekend this party lasts, every year.

I, I don’t, and I really didn’t, understand, that is. I never did finish the thought, however, as he hugged me from behind.

Don’t try, he asked, nuzzling his head into my back, please.

But these women, the horrors in your mind, screaming even now into mine, I held his hands, keeping them tight around me, that is nothing like the others, I don’t understand why—

They aren’t human, they’re witches, he explained, but only just, as too quiet in my mind his voice pleaded, and please, treasure, don’t search in those memories. There are no answers you want. Just get the bat, she’s the real threat, I’ll take the others and you must carve out their hearts after you drain them...or they will return.

Before I could ask, could question the chill in his tone, he had the mouse in his teeth and her dagger at the rat’s throat.

“Kitty,” the bat tittered, without a hint of emotion for what I imagined were her sisters, “you came back. Are you here to sing for us again?” I had her then, moving far quicker than I expected to—we had not run through the halls, I didn’t know my own speed—and took her dagger as she twisted it at me. “And you brought a friend,” she sneered.

Lucient dropped the mouse, limp and spasming as she was, but kept her dagger on the rat, “Partner, dear.” The rat swiped with her dagger and Lucient smiled at her, that sharp mesmerizing smile I hadn’t seen all night, “Now, now, precious, you know better than that.” He twisted the dagger out of her hand, and still she kept silent, “It’s not even silver, what were you hoping to accomplish?”

“Kitty’s in a mood,” the bat cooed, wriggling with my hands on her wrists, “We do so love when Kitty gets mad. You going to hurt us, Kitty, bite us and drink us dry? We ache for your teeth.”

He laughed, chill, humorless as he spoke to me, “Do you hear that, treasure? They want to be bled. Isn’t it delicious?”

While no genuine emotion came through in his voice, his mind popped and jittered with chaotic rage; red, red, red, all of them, redder than they were already, gasping and screaming under his teeth and nails.

I had no time to address it, however, as the bat gaped at me, her brown eyes tinted orange by the light of the room, “You’re a dead thing too?” She elicited another cold, mirthless laugh from Lucient before she begged, “Then bite me, dead thing. Drink me, empty me of all this hot, wretched life. I want to see it smeared thick and red all over you.”

I stared at her, then at Lucient, and my confusion burst a bit more aggressively than intended, “Chi è questa puttana pazza?”

“The crazy bitch is dessert, treasure,” Lucient repeated my aggression through that cold smile and, shaking his head at another attempt of the rat’s to swipe at him, he took her by the hair and bit into her throat. She swooned in that bite, but it didn’t last, and the glint in his eyes when he stopped, when he eyed the dagger, smiled at it…

I would like to take a moment to say that I was filled with many emotions at that moment, terribly conflicting emotions, so when I tell you that his murderous grin excited me...I just want you to have proper context.

But it did excite, as did her gurgling cries as Lucient set to carving her heart out.

The bat giggled, hysterically she giggled, eyes and lips pulled far too wide at the sight of her sister’s demise. But her giggles snapped to gasps as I gave her the gift she begged for.

“Yes,” she swooned beneath my teeth, “oh, and hot you are, dead thing...so hot that bite...burning, burning all inside me. More, yes, take more! Take it all!”

Her blood screamed. Brutal and ravenous, thick as syrup without a hint of sweetness but still it sparked as the sea witch’s sparked—a taste I would forever associate with magic. But it was sour fruit on my tongue, burning acid down my throat, and she moaned louder the more I drank it, all but screaming her lust for the agony of my teeth—the death they promised. Were it not for my hands on her wrist, I am certain she’d have held me through it, pulled me closer—as the sea witch had.

It swelled in me, her blood, with fresh desires no less monstrous than the last. I wanted to hurt, to cut, to watch something living suffer and bleed. Not for sustenance, not for a primal need, but for pleasure. It wasn’t difficult to take the dagger to her after, to stab and slice and dig.

Yet I caught myself, with her heart in my hand—pumping still, however slight—and I gaped at Lucient, “My dream...I—I’m not sure this blood is any better than that fottuta pantera.”

With a giddy, blood-soaked grin, he presented the heart he’d cut and it occurred to me then that, perhaps, we should have been more careful about who we ate.

I cut the mouse’s heart out next, fighting bubbling giggles as I sawed through muscles and snapped her ribs to get at it...with Lucient leaning on my back, not fighting the glee that spilled from his lips.

We each took a dagger with us when we left the room, soaked in all the thick red life those witches sprayed. Our eyes and ears kept alert for any notice of their screams—pleasurable as they were—but none hunted, none chased. We had again gone unnoticed, and I didn’t have time to wonder before Lucient answered it.

Spelled, all the pretty rooms are spelled, even his thoughts were drenched in giggling glee.

And giggling together we went for the others on Lucient’s list. Ones we took less care to remain subtle with, playing with the shiny daggers we’d stolen until their gurgling whimpers grew too sweet not to bite them away. It became far too easy to see pulsing life as a meal instead of a person and, thanks to influence of those murderous witches, I delighted in far more than the blood on my tongue.

I wanted to bathe in it. I cut, I tore, I rent limbs from sockets and heads from necks, with Lucient praising me all the while—his blood just as tainted.

We ran full speed through the halls, a blur to all but others like us—and none of them seemed to know, or care, what we were doing. Reveling in the freedom of that bubbling glee as a salve to the torturous memories each new target inflicted, we drained no others after the sisters—a bite only, Lucient insisted, to make it clear that something with fangs had done the deed.

#writeblr #snippet #writing #novel #before deluca #vampires #tw: blood #so much blood #our monsters are broken #danse en rouge #chapter 7

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codenamehazard · 1 year ago

Text

.:Port in the Storm:.

Chapter 18: Port in the Storm

Hey guys! Time to see what emotional stuff is in store for us in this chapter!

Big thanks to @rogueshadeaux for helping me out as this chapter was giving me some serious issues! If ya'll haven't checked her out, do so! Erosion is a top notch story and it's only gonna get better!

Without delay, let's jump in!

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I lean against the HEMTT while Mako’s taking some stock on supplies and materials. I have been hanging around the convoy for some time, hoping to see Kestrel so I could ask her about the Amp, but out of all time I’ve been watching I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. I’m beginning to wonder if something happened while I was out clearing my head.

Mako had greeted me, relieved I was okay before we got into some small talk. Chit-chatting about this and that before I found my opening to ask.

“I thought about your suggestion while I was out in the fields and you’re right, it probably wouldn’t hurt to go ask Kestrel. I mean… We already have a deal and all.” I state, Mako smiles and nods.

“That’s good to hear, I know how much the Amp means to you, so I know Kes will fix it up.” Mako replies softly, looking relieved at my answer.

“So uhh… Where is Kestrel?” I ask, Mako gives me a worried look.

“Well… She should be in the workshop… She had gone there shortly after you left to wander and she hasn’t returned since.” I raise my eyebrow at this, but I soon shrug.

“Sounds like she might be having troubles with a rogue customer. I’ll head over there and sort it out.” I grunt as I stretch. “Thanks for the info.” She nods in response as I head over to the nearest wire and hop on. Blitzing off as soon as my foot hits the cable.

—-

Bolts arc as I leap off the wire, gliding towards the door with a smooth tuck and roll. I smile and brush myself off, pleased with my landing. I near the door and soon hear the sound of muffled shouting and screaming as well as the sound of something violently venting out gas. Oh great… As if I wasn’t already nervous enough about asking Kestrel about the Amp, knowing she’s going to be in a foul mood is just making me all the more hesitant. Still, I have made up my mind. I swallow my fear and step inside.

I see the door to the forge is shut and I could now recognize the second voice. It’s Pangolin’s voice. My eyebrows furrow as I listen to the tone, it’s the same tone my father took with me when I fucked up combined with that same military brass. I growl quietly as I approach the workshop door.

“Pangolin? Him of all people?” I question in my head as I get closer. Why is he here and why is he absolutely laying into Kestrel? What did she do?

I’m about to open the door, but decide against it. Instead, I hide myself to the side. Using a small amount of my power to sharpen my hearing and listen. At first, the sound was muffled, but once my ears sharpened, I could hear clearly and what I heard made my blood boil.

“I’ve been at this stupid thing for two days straight, Pangolin. TWO. FUCKING. DAYS!! No sleep, barely eating, only time I took a break was to drink and to take a piss!! What more do you want of me?!?” My eyes bug out of my head at the sound of Kestrel’s voice. Two days straight!? Am I hearing that correctly?? “I am literally running on fumes over this, the VERY LEAST you could do is to cut me some fucking slack!!”

“How can I “lay off” when you lied about the weapon being ready, Kestrel?” Pangolin’s voice growled, I can picture in my mind the bastard circling the girl with eyes full of disdain… Just like my father did to me. This whole thing is still about that stupid gun?? The gun she warned was a prototype??

“I didn’t lie!” Kestrel balks. “I said “HOPED SO!!” How many fucking times do I have to say it?! It means it hasn’t been tested. That there’s a chance that it might not work!! The plan didn’t work anyways because it wasn’t enough to take down the Summoner!!” The poor girl’s voice was starting to sound hoarse, almost desperate. I have to wonder how many times Pangolin has harassed the Gunsmith, by the sound of her voice, I’d imagine it was a frequent thing.

More flickers of my childhood pollute my mind, memories of my father barging in when I was trying to study and berating me for some slight or another and me shouting back, just wanting him to leave me the fuck alone.

“With your behavior as of late, I wouldn’t put it past you to sabotage out of spite, especially seeing that it was your poor conduct that cost us a mine.” I silently seeth as I hear Pangolin talk about the Mine Incident. The very incident that he made Kes and I promise to drop.

Fucking hypocrite.

“Oh! So we’re going there with this, huh?!” I hear Kestrel screech. “So you’ll have me and Cole bury the Mine Incident but you get to hold it over our heads?? Use it as fucking cudgel?? Who gave you that right, huh?!” I had to pull a small piece of leather out from my backpack and bite into it in order to keep myself quiet. Keep myself from charging in sparks blazing.

“You’re acting like a child!” I hear the Spartan snap. Really?? Kestrel is being the childish one?? She’s not the one making up crack-pot theories about how your own Gunsmith, who you supposedly trust, purposely sabotaging her own work when there was a goddamn monster barreling into town??

“Do you even hear yourself, you dense fuck?!” Kestrel screams, the sound becoming more and more frantic, as if she’s on the verge of tears. “What could I possibly gain from sabotaging my own work? Do you think so little of me that I would literally break my own weapons just to spite you for rightfully calling me out on my shit? Said shit that, might I remind you, that YOU made me and Cole promise to put behind us?? The very same shit you’re holding over my head like a fucking hypocrite??”

“Think so little of me…” That… That struck a cord inside me. I have been around many people before, people don’t say shit like that unless something’s been going on that has led them to that conclusion. I know this for a fact… As this was something I would scream to my own parents. New memories rush in like a surging wave as I start to remember another issue I’ve noticed…

Favoritism…

How Pangolin has been treating Kestrel from what I’ve been seeing… How he’s currently treating her now, is very much like how my father treated me when I was young, especially in my teen years… After my brother was born…

…And how he was treating me? It was how dad treated my little brother… It made me seeth. He was treating one of his own like utter trash and treating me with kid gloves. What’s the big idea here? Is it because he feared what I could do? Or is it because of what he could gain.

“Honestly, Kestrel? I’ve been questioning a lot about you since that incident.” Pangolin hisses as I hold back my tongue behind gritted teeth and scrap leather. “I never thought you could be capable of abandoning anyone to a death you claim you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, but you proved me wrong there… Makes me wonder what else you are capable of… And now with this blunder, I now wonder how much you have lied…”

“Perhaps… You lied about how long the weapon would take? That you could have gotten it out sooner but you chose to lie instead?”

He did not just fucking say that…

There was a heavy pause, full of tension that was about to break. I could hear the creaking of twisting metal and could feel the bioelectricity in the Gunsmith’s body rise, she would be a beacon of red in my Radar Pulse.

“So…” She damn near whispers. It’s the dangerous low kind of whisper that warns those that something bad is about to happen and there was no stopping it. “It’s my fault… Is it? It’s my fault that two Conclaves are no more?” Her voice is on the brink of tears and I’m getting angrier by the second. “That the blood of thousands are on my hands because I couldn’t complete your precious project quick enough??” The last part comes out as a venom filled snarl.

Memories of the hateful gazes fill my mind, memories of being called a terrorist… Of being blamed for the death of those lost in the Ray Sphere blast… Blamed for the death of Trish’s sister… And here I am… Listening to a mirror.

“Kestrel, you’re putting words into my mouth!” I hear the brick idiot sternly say and I just want to go in there and crack some sense into his head!!

“No, I heard you loud and clear.” The Gunsmith growls. “You’re blaming me for their deaths with this…”

“Kestr-”

“If you’re going to blame me, say it.” Her voice trembles more. “Say. It.”

“No.” The moron rebuts. “I’m not going to entertain this fit.”

“JUST FUCKING SAY IT, THOMAS!!!!” She shouts with all of her might. “SAY IT’S MY FAULT!!! IT’S MY FAULT THEY’RE ALL DEAD!!! STOP PUSSY-FOOTING AROUND AND JUST SAY IT TO MY FACE!!!”

I can’t see what’s going on, but I could feel it. Pangolin’s really stepped in it now. Metal around slowly twists and screeches. The H.R Giger decor almost looks like they are… Coming alive from the sheer rage.

The sound of panting sobs echo out before a sound that is some sort of unholy combination of a human scream and metal scraping metal rings out, forcing me to cover my ears as a cacophony of metal breaking and twisting joins the scream. Screaming like it was alive as Kestrel’s rage devolves into nonsense and the crashing of material and equipment.

She carries on in a blind fury, phrases like “You think I’m such a failure? That I’m a fuck up?”, “You think I’m just an untrustworthy curr?” and similar wail out of her as smoke starts to seep from the bottom of the door. I can’t take this any more, I need to get in there. However, before I could, I could hear the clattering of metal and the crumpling of paper.

“If I’m such a traitorous monster like you believe me to be, then you can figure this out!” I hear Kestrel snarl out before I see the door swing open violently, creating a hole in the wall. She charges out, eyes blazing like hot iron and her body so heated up, she’s causing the fake water heat illusion.

Pangolin tries to follow her out, shouting at her to wait, but she’s too fast for the lumbering idiot. Now he’s left standing there with scrap and blueprints in his arms… The scrap of the Brickzooka…

I stand up and let my power flow, Pangolin’s eyes widen.

“So… This is your idea of leadership, huh? Holding your team’s fuck ups over their heads, treating them like trash and blaming them for things they didn’t do because you’re pissed over petty bullshit?” I watch as the Brick Spartan turns around, his face pale as a sheet.

“Well? Is it?” I bark, my mind slipping back into the days where I lead an army of Conduits. My irritation grows by the minute the longer he just keeps staring at me like an idiot. He gapes like a fish, as if thinking of something to say, but falling short. I can’t help but to growl.

“W-what are you doing here?!” He stammers out in a panic.

“Doesn’t matter why I’m here, what matters is that apparently you think it’s okay to hold shit over your teammates’ heads after you made them promise to let it go” I growl deeply.

“I’m just holding her accountable, just as I asked Mako to do for you.” He tries to defend. I scoff, sparks pop off and my eyes glow crimson. I begin to circle him like a hungry predator, let’s see how he likes it.

“Oh, so it’s “rules for thee but not for me,” huh? Well I’m just holding you accountable for this little fuck up.” I continue to circle him, the sight would have been hysterical to see someone a fair bit shorter intimidate a 6’6” tree of a human if I wasn’t so infuriated. “How can I when you’re holding it over Kestrel’s and my heads, huh?” I sneer, my blood seething in my veins. “Ever thought that if you don’t let it go too, the issue can’t be dropped?”

The idiot says nothing, time to turn up the heat as the bolts grow hotter in intensity.

“And what’s with the favoritism, huh? You’re treating Kestrel like utter shit yet you’re handling me with kid gloves. What’s that all about, hm? You scared of me? You want something from me? Go on, tell me.”

He can’t give me an answer, I know I have to walk away before I completely lose it and strike him. So I decided to cut this conversation short, I have a more pressing matter on my mind anyways.

"I don't know what your end-game is here with that bullshit you pulled on Kestrel, but you look me dead in the eyes. You keep pushing her like that, you're going to lose her. She's going to get fed up and leave and don't think she won't. Everyone has their limits and from the looks of things, the bird's reaching that point and if you don't start listening, practicing what you're preaching and actually acting like a leader, she's gonna fly the coop and you'll never see her again." I hiss, a warning from my time leading the Conduit army. A warning I hope he heeds for the sake of the other Misfits. "You'll lose one of your key members and then what are you going to do?" Those last words hiss out of my mouth as I turn away and leave the shop.

With Pangolin verbally torn a new one, I rush outside, leaving him to sit in shame and among the worthless scrap and paper of the oh so precious weapon he felt was so important to push away the one who built it. Silently hoping that the Gunsmith hasn’t left Droptown.

Though I wouldn’t blame her in the slightest if she had, I would have done the same… I have done the same.

Seems like life’s wanting to toss me a bone for once as I pick up on her signature with my Radar Pulse… Huh… She likes high places too. I look up to see her sitting up on top of a building, balled up, hugging her knees and not at all looking happy. I take a deep breath to steel myself before heading up, climbing up the wall to meet her.

Once at the top, I can hear her voice again, it sounds tired and ragged. She’s sobbing…

“It’s not my fault…” She whimpers, rocking back and forth to self-sooth and muttering over and over again that it wasn’t her fault. I knew I needed to be careful, but seeing this? Extra caution is needed. I tap the ball of my foot onto the ground to alert her to my presence so I don’t startle her. She turns around rapidly, tears staining her scarred face and eyes wide in fear.

I approach her and she turns her head back to face forward, balling up more to hide her face.

“What do you want, MacGrath?” She snarls. “If it’s about the stupid gun, save it. I’ll get it made.” I shake my head at the mention of the firearm, not that she could see it. I know I need to handle this situation with care… Not one of my strong suits.

“That’s… What I wanted to talk about…” I murmur in as soft of a tone as I can.

“What, you don’t want the gun anymore? Did Pangolin get into your head too?” The Gunsmith accuses, I would have been upset by this, but I keep my composure. It’s a logical conclusion to come to. I see a glaring eye peek up from behind her arms and I shake my head.

“No, that dense blockheaded bastard has nothing to do with this.” I clarify, I can see the look of confusion form on the girl’s expression. “Something else just came up that’s… A little more important.” I soften my eyes with those words, hoping to get through the anger.

“Then what?” Kestrel questions, her confusion adding to her hostility. I take a deep breath and vent out a couple of sparks to calm my nerves before looking at her. I carefully pull out one of the tip coils of the Amp and show it to her. She looks at it questioningly.

“I want you to repair this instead of building me a gun.” I mutter before gulping. The look of disdain on Kestrel’s face both unnerved and irritated me. She scoffs.

“What?” She sneers. “Can’t fix your own damn weapon?” I clench my fists in a white knuckle grip. I resist the urge to make my displeasure known, reminding myself that to her, this weapon means nothing . It doesn’t hold the same weight as it does to me. I take a deep breath and through gritted teeth, I growl.

“I’m not the one who built it.”

I watch Kestrel’s infuriated expression soften as she lifts and cocks her head. I brace myself for whatever else might come out of the girl’s mouth, but nothing comes. Instead her eyes are focused on my face, like she’s attempting to read me but having troubles. She doesn’t say a word.

“Look, Kestrel.” I continue with a sigh. “I don’t care if having you repair my Amp means I won’t get a firearm from you. I couldn’t give less of a shit about it. I don’t need it and never did. What I do care about is this weapon, right here.” I tap my finger on the coil of the weapon.

I’m about to continue, but I hear the sound of shuffling and I see she’s scooting off to the side a bit. I look at her questioningly before she uses her head to gesture to the empty spot next to her. I blink in surprise before walking over and sitting next to her.

“You see…” I whisper, trying to keep my voice even. I don’t want to break, not in front of her. “This was made by my best friend… Hell, he was my only friend. It was the last gift he ever got to give me.” I pause to collect my words. “I don’t give a shit if this means this is the only thing you’ll do. This weapon means more to me than anything on this god-damned rock. I just want it fixed.”

The bird’s eyes widen as I watch her face fall, her eyes lowering as guilt washes over her and it isn’t that “guilty because she was caught” bullshit, it is genuine guilt. With one hand she covers her mouth and looks away. I’m surprised at how fast she dropped her rage. I would have thought she would have said something snarky or at least try to hide the guilt, but no. It’s on full display. Her eyes stay low, but they dart around some, the hand covering her mouth going to her arm to play with a small bracelet, a small black braided cord bracelet with two turtles and a blue eye looking stone in the center. Her thumb rubs the stone before she looks me in the eyes. After looking at me, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, smoke seeping out. She rubs her eyes as her face hardens and she looks up again, this time, eyes bright with determination.

“Done.”

“Done?” I blurt out in shock. Just… Just like that?

“Done.” She simply repeats. The thoughts in my head stutter and jam as I gawk at her. Surely she has some cruel words to say, something to lash out with to ease her own pain. Use me as a verbal punching bag, anything, but nothing came… Just a single word.

“Th-that’s it?” I balk, blinking my eyes in utter shock. “No sass? No pushback? No jeers? Nothing?” I can’t help but to question her, she looks up at me and tilts her head, I can see a small bit of hurt, but by the way she’s acting, I can tell she understands.

“Why would there be?” Those words come out of her mouth in a tone that is nothing but sincere. I just stare at her, looking like a fucking trout. Then she does something strange. She rolls up her sleeves and holds her hands out where I can see, showing me both the palm and the back of them before holding out her hand. “May I…?” She asks in a feather soft voice. I nod and, though with some hesitation, give her the coil.

“You’re welcome to swing by whenever you like to check on progress or to ask questions.” She murmurs softly as she examines the coil. I just gawk at her as my head is still spinning from the absolute emotional whiplash she gave me.

We sit in silence as the headache of the emotional rigamarole fades into a quiet peace. I watch her study the coil with her eyes and her fingertips. It’s almost amazing to see, I knew what those fingers could do, the claws they hid… I’ve also seen that little Doc Ock display she had going on when she was making that dumbass gun, but seeing it so close… Seeing how feather-like her fingers are as she examines the broken piece, holding it like it’s a precious piece of her grandmother’s china set.

I hate to admit it, but it is… Kinda nice. Nice to sit in silence with somebody else. Even though we have had some volatile history, it’s still… Nice… In the quiet, I remember something.

“Hey Kestrel?” I ask.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the save, by the way.”

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #caper #blast shard caper #kestrel morrison #Pangolin #Mako #conduit ocs

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