#Implied human experimentation

[huh-1260]

body horror by experimentation with dark magic. This idea was inspired by Yubel a Yugioh archetype with how the limbs are slowly getting into dragon parts

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I think I have a problem with shaking Warriors/Hyrule Warrriors Link in a box of trauma

[victor-veloci-simp-69]

AU where Victor Veloci was not an OG!Dino but a mutant dino.

Imagine an AU where the only survivor is Ms Moynihan.

Desperately lonely, and with science advancing day by day, she gets the idea to try to make a companion.

(Be warned, this does get a little dark. Implied kidnapping and human experimentation. Nothing explicit, but yeah. Be safe. Not fanfic, just thoughts.)

There's a lot of directions this could have gone in.

Maybe she tries to make a clone baby with her DNA and someone elses.

Maybe she kidnaps some guy/teenager/kid off the street and gives him some dino-juice.

Maybe she even knows Victor. A neighbor, a friend, a fellow scientist or co-worker. Maybe he was a flirty barista at one point.

(How many people would she go through before she got a successful Victor Veloci? Was he a first time success or are there dozens of failed experiments who didn't survive? At what number would she give up? To what lengths would one go to, to no longer be lonely? Where is the line in the sand?)

No matter who he was before, or how many there was before, Victor Veloci is born.

He's not perfect. He's a dinosaur but he looks nothing like Ms Moynihan:

He's bigger, lacking the feathers that shine so beautiful on her, and scaled like a reptile. He looks as a human would expect a dinosaur to look like.

Maybe Moynihan gives up. Maybe she's tried so long and the results have never been what she wanted. Maybe her conscious catches up to her. Maybe she realises Victor is the closest she will ever get.

(Maybe she continues, thinking that Victor is the closest she has ever gotten, and victory is around the corner. Maybe he grows resentful at being considered not enough; a failure; an unloved, cheap imitation that will be discarded at first oppertunity)

She does not abandon him. He is her constant companion. She teaches him, of sciences and history and culture and the constantly shifting world.

(Does he remember his old life? Was he always Victor or was he someone else?)

Maybe he grows restless at being Imperfect. Maybe he grows frustrated at Ms Moynihan being content to it just being the two of them.

But eventually, he leaves. He takes on the surname Veloci. He convinces people to his cause.

Does he do it to find the formula to make himself perfect? No longer second best, no longer wrong?

Does he do it to make himself less lonely, less unique in a world where he is the only one, no one, not even his creator understanding what he is, what it is like.

Better yet, does he tell people he is an ancient Velociraptor because its easier to explain, because his past is painful and he'd rather be something he is not.

Or does he tell people that because he has deluded himself into thinking he is.

[nagisreader]

whumptober 2024 - day 27

[macey-kasey-nope]

Whumptober day 3-

Honestly this one took me the least amount of time so far. I like it but I wish I had time to color it.

Ngl I think his expressions could use some work.

Text:

Subject M-41x Report

Subject has been in solitary confinement for 37 total days. M-41X was given a journal; nothing was written. Subject began singing non-understandable lullabies on day 6, he stopped on day 23. Subject pleaded, seemingly with staff regardless of their not being in the room, to "make it stop". Subject has since been released.

-Team X-317

[whumpacabra]

Ey couldn’t be more thrilled with the news.

“How long will I have it?” The scientist wasn’t afraid of the Supervillain - how could ey be when a new test subject was being offered to em? The Supervillain chuckled, amused by eir obsessive glee.

“As long as you need.” The Supervillain nodded to her guards. “I haven’t been able to figure out it’s powers. Maybe you’ll have more success.”

“Of course, ma’am. As you know I have a rigorous protocol just for these kinds of subjects - I’m sure it won’t take - ” The mad scientist’s excited babbling was cut short as the guards dragged eir new test subject to the foot of the Supervillain’s chair.

“Is something wrong, doctor?” The Supervillain’s voice was laced with something dangerous. Suspicion. Sensing weakness. Ey smothered any hesitation with a toothy smile and a flourish of their lab coat.

“No, of course not ma’am! I - just didn’t realize how…thorough your own testing has been.”

The…it must have been a person, at some point, but it was hardly recognizable as such. It had clearly been starved and beaten, half drowned and broken. It was standard protocol, of course, but -

Something was so scared, so desperate in its eyes, the way it looked at em.

“Do you want the damn thing or not? It’s getting blood on my carpet.” The Supervillain’s tone was teasing, a laugh on her voice. The scientist cracked a smile, forcing eir eyes away from the bloody, mangled subject shivering on the floor in front of em.

“Yes ma’am - you’ll be the first to know when I make a breakthrough.” Ey hoped the shiver of fear in their voice was disguised as eir usual manic excitement. (Ey were lying to the Supervillain - why the hell were ey doing that?)

The scientist looked to her for permission before touching eir new test subject. The Supervillain nodded to the door. Ey grabbed hold of it by its chains, the pathetic thing stumbling after em, bloody footprints in its wake.

The scientist kept eir smile until the elevator doors slid closed, lowering the pair deep into the bowels of the lair. Ey glanced over at the new subject, crouched (collapsed?) at eir feet, shivering and wheezing.

When the elevator doors slid open, the scientist only felt a faint nausea looking at eir equipment, laid out and ready for testing. Ey half dragged the pathetic creature out of the elevator before realizing it was simply too weak to stand, let alone walk.

The scientist groaned internally, knowing the Supervillain would kill em if she found out; ey couldn’t experiment on it. Not like this.

Ey would figure out its powers another time. Right now…right now it needed help. And even if ey wasn’t the right kind of doctor, ey could help. Probably.

The scientist crouched down next to the cowering test subject, scooping it into eir arms. (It was so light. Too light for a person (?) this size.) A sound gurgled from its bloody lips, a half strangled plea for mercy.

“You’re alright.” Ey said, voice soft as the subject’s blood stained eir lab coat. Ey carried it away from the bubbling beakers and test tubes and surgery table. Toward eir personal quarters. “You’re going to be alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

For as long as ey could.

Whumpee being sent to mad scientist as a touch subject after being captured by supervillain. At first, mad scientist is excited to continue their experiments, but then they see the horrible condition whumpee is in, and they have to help.

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[fanfic-obsessed]

Historical choices

This idea starts on Kamino. Well before the time of the prequels. 

As with all my ideas, ignore any part of canon that contradicts it. 

Tipoca City became the capital of Kamino after the flood. It was never meant to be the Capital city. In fact it was not built to be a city at all. Tipoca was built as a remote research station, long before the flood. It was the first genetic research station for the Kaminoans.  

The very first project…how to prevent Force Sensitivity in their own people. For many reasons, all based on superstition and bigotry, the Kaminoan government decided that having Force sensitivity was undesirable and wanted it stopped.  The initial project, lost to the tides of time, took all the Force Sensitives they could get their hands on (though there were many adults captured, unfortunately Force Sensitive children and babies were easier to source) and began to experiment, with all the horror that that entails. 

By the time the scientists had a ‘breakthrough’ many decades later, everything that subjects endured had sunk into the location, darkening the Force as only that kind of pain and horror can. 

The scientists called it a breakthrough, removing Force Sensitivity from the Kaminoan genetic code and generations later the project had been forgotten, and it is assumed that Kaminoans simply were not Force sensitive. This is not quite true. What those initial scientists did was make Force Sensitivity above a specific threshold, well below the level to actually be considered Force Sensitive, toxic to Kaminoans. 

The funny thing is that after the genetic treatments to ‘remove’ force sensitivity, miscarriages among the Kaminoan population (which at that point was still reproducing, not cloning) shot through the roof, often including the death of the mother/carrier (I have no idea what the Kaminoans called the egg producer). At the same time the Force is not simply in sentients, it is also a vital part of the lifeblood of the planet.  There is a careful balance that the Force maintains which was utterly fucked by the mass death, and continued death, of any Force Sensitive Kaminoan.  While the connection is never made, these imbalances are the cause for the global warming that eventually floods the planet, also the violent frequent storms.  It is this and the birth rate issue that caused the Kaminoans to start cloning and genetic experiments to survive (All the while they kept including the genetic code that turned Force Sensitivity toxic). 

Even as their reputation as cloners grew, they never cloned sentients other than themselves (And there were no Force sensitive Kaminoans now). So they never realized that The Force on Kamino (in particular Tipoca City, but across the planet) had grown dark, violent, and feral. It is noted that animals cloned on Tipoca city tend to be more aggressive than normal, but that is not really noticeable given the contracts they were getting.

Not until the cloning of Jango Fett begins.  The Clones are near human and, though Jango Fett is not particularly Force sensitive, they are the first sentients since the treatment was completed for whom being touched by the Force was not lethal (since the Kaminoans no longer remember that the particular piece of genetic code was artificial, then never think to add it to the Fett clones).  The Force on Kamino curls around the clones, it loves them with desperation and the long lasting memory of the last time its children walked the surface. The Force ensures that every Fett clone is Force sensitive. 

To the trainers and Jango Fett there are a number of spots on Tipoca City that feel…deeply haunted. The more superstitious refuse to enter some of the oldest parts of the city, including where the growth tubes are located (no one is left alive to know but the growth tubes are placed in the oldest labs, where the subjects of the first scientist endured horrors beyond imagining).  

To be clear, the Force on Kamino is of the dark side. It is corrupted.  It is suffering and horror and despair leaching like poison into groundwater. It is a beaten, hurting animal biting anyone who comes close to prevent being hurt again. It is a feral thing that can not distinguish between friend and foe. And the Clones belong to it. 

This comes to a head when the majority of the CC batches are six.  One of the trainers spits out that the Jedi would also think the clones were just useless meat droids. And the Force on Kamino may have been a feral thing, a thing of suffering,  but it was also connected to the rest of the Force and it knew that the Jedi would love its children. 

It whispered this to the children, curling around them. One of the children, who would one day be Fox, glared up at the trainer and spat out that the trainer was lying.  The trainer, reacting more to the tone than the words, struck CC-1010. 

The Force on Kamino reacted. It had suffered the trainers to live because they were making it’s children strong. There had been no decommissioning or reconditionings because the Force was working to ensure its children performed exactly as they should.  But now the trainer had hurt one of its children, and not for training, but for speaking.  The barely leashed violence broke free and roared through the clones. The clones, empowered and driven by the Dark, this vicious protective energy built of the suffering from long before, took the city. It did not matter that the oldest of them were barely physically 8. Within 4 hours there were not any trainers left in Tipoca City (Jango Fett had been off planet on a bounty). Within 6 hours there were no Kaminoans either.  Within three days the Clones were the sole living sentients on Kamino.

Jango Fett came back three weeks after that to a very changed landscape. He is allowed to land because Boba (the toddler that he still is) does consider him a father.  The children, and they are all still children, have not eaten anything solid in two weeks (The Force is sustaining them, also the Force does not know what are good child rearing practices for near humans-it has existed long enough that it can’t even really tell the difference between child and adult in near humans).  The clones are now clearly something OTHER and very unsettling besides, but they all call him dad and he gets the creeping sensation that Jango was not allowed to deny them (Very much ‘oh no these ARE your children (threat)’).  The Force start playing with Clone ages (trying to figure out the best age for each clone to be for ‘their’ Jedi, the Kamino Force is invested in the Clones getting whatever they want and knows some Jedi will love the Clones dearly). 

Jango makes it another 6 months before he ‘sneaks’ away to make a panicked call to the Jedi Temple (He knows he screwed up), trying to make it their problem instead of his. Prior to this he made several attempts to call Dooku but none went through. He is chased down and told that The Force (called Buir/Protector by the Clones) allowed him this far because it knew that he would call the Jedi, but that it is time to return home now. 

There was a wandering Jedi, Master Faye, closer so she came to Kamino and was immediately given the feeling that she would care for the clones or else.  The Force on Kamino is still a wild, feral thing and the Clones are that much more aggressive for their connection to it. However the innocence of the clone children, now that they are not being trained for war any longer, has also been bringing balance back to the Force on Kamino. As they behave as children do, they have begun to drain away the leftover suffering, bringing light back to the Force. 

Some of the storms have even begun to ebb. 

It is still a bit of a horror show that Jedi now have to deal with, also children (who may be more than a little eldritch) who committed at least one Genocide. But there is hope.

[saym0-0]

once again insane about udad mechs, i just think that marius and raph would team up for some good ol human experimentation on dubiously dead folks, then chop up the bodies and take em to the acheron, brains for hades, all the good fleshy bits for cerberus, and for some reason persephone keeps requesting the bones

[sapphorror]

Okay, but one of the best things about Lice is the sheer amount of mutual pettiness it showcases between Zim and Dib for an episode that doesn't have them saying even a single word to each other

[pinkhairandpokemon]

seriously FUCK that Colress guy if I ever see him again I’m gonna snap him in half. he was the one who did this to me. why why why did I ever wish I had powers like other chosens. I can barely keep this new fire shit under control and it’s only a matter of time before I accidentally hurt peoplw feel just like I did when I got cursrd damn it

-Blake

[aparticularbandit]

Hey.

Hey guys.

Remember when Yuri described the book she gave the Player Character and it included human experimentation and people who would chop other people's body parts off and sew them onto themselves?

:D

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

c!dream threw his bestie a birthday party this year! isn’t he such a good friend to c!tommy?

(image id: A digital drawing done in a painterly style of the characters of Tommy and Dream. Tommy is a teenage boy sitting at a table, with a birthday cake with a candle shaped like the number 19 in front of him. He is covered in bruises and scars, and is missing an eye. His face is expressionless as he stares at the cake. His hair is done in a long braid, and is more white than blond. Dream is a masked man holding onto Tommy's shoulders- his mask is askew to show him giving a proud smile. He’s wearing a green cloak, and his dirty blond hair is streaked with grey and white. He is scarred and also missing an eye, and the scars on his face match with cracks on his mask. The two are sitting in a prison cell, and there is a balloon in the back with the same smiley face as Dream's mask)

[nagisreader]

whumptober 2024 - day 1

technically the end of blaze’s story this year? wrote this before i decided to do the prompts out of order (may end up tweaking it by the end of the month lol)

[muder-boner]

if aliens ever tried to come down to earht and have a war with humans

theyd be terrified

humans create bombs, death showers, humans experements, were evil

we were born with violence, aliens are way too weak

were horrible, they would kill themselevs realizing where they landed lol

pls ignore typos

[olddirtybadfic]

Blond Antagonism: A Sims 2 WTFfic (part one of four)

Once I started writing Sims 2 darkfic, I just couldn't stop. I also apparently couldn't restrain myself from adding in a few batshit elements.

Content Warning: Violence (will include sexual violence in later chapters); xenophobia; human experimentation; high school dynamics reminiscent of the beloved classic, My Immortal; necrophilia accusations; mentions of teenage Sims Woohooing; Loki virgin-shaming Vidcund and just generally being a dickhead; the Mary-Sueification of Vidcund Curious; the Grim Reaper being a very overprotective father to teen Nervous; mpreg mentions (there will be actual mpreg later); Loki slut-shames the Curious brothers for their extraterrestrial relationships; toxic jealousy and envy; Circe says the r-slur; misunderstanding of S&M

-O-o-O-o-O-

Loki Beaker hated all of the Curious brothers, but the one he hated the most was Vidcund.

Oh, sure, he wouldn’t hesitate to kick the hell out of Pascal, or think twice about delivering a psychologically damaging insult to Lazlo, but he just couldn’t touch Vidcund.

The enmity started when Loki and his family moved to Strangetown from Norssimskland. Bjørn, Loki’s father, and Glarn, the Curious brothers’ father, had a bitter rivalry at Strangetown Labs and hated each other in almost the same way. Both Glarn and Bjørn were scientists, but everyone seemed to think Glarn was so much better than Bjørn, simply because Glarn was Simerican and Bjørn was a “foreigner.”

Every night, Loki had to listen to his father go on and on about Glarn and his experiments and skills and scientific crap.

Bjørn’s complaining didn’t really bother Loki much, until Loki realized that his situation would turn out exactly the way his father’s had.

Loki was a very good student. He was also the toughest kid at Strangetown High (save for Buzz Grunt) and, depending on whom you asked, the most attractive.

Then, Vidcund entered high school.

Seeing Vidcund for the first time, Loki didn’t think much of him, except maybe that he was weird. Vidcund was a petite, thin boy with blond hair falling over his face and the clothing typical of those goth kids Loki had seen smoking behind the mall. He was a sharp contrast to Loki, who was also blond, but tall, mostly dressed in blue, and just slightly curvy in the rear.

But while Loki thought Vidcund was weird, other thought he was adorable. ADORABLE. “The kid looks like he walked straight out of the Underworld,” Loki thought. “How is that cute?”

This wouldn’t have annoyed Loki if Vidcund hadn’t been good at absolutely everything. Even worse, he was better than Loki at everything. If Loki got a 95, Vidcund would get a 100. If Loki could run a mile in eight minutes, Vidcund could do it in five. And he could be damn sure that if he could attract two Sims, Vidcund could have half the frickin’ population of the eleventh grade begging to go out with him.

The most annoying thing about it all was that Vidcund was totally oblivious to all of this. Every other Sim in school wanted him, but he didn’t even know it. Loki tried to take him down a peg by spreading the rumor that Vidcund’s emo poetry sucked, but even that backfired on him. The other Sims scolded him for teasing “such a sensitive soul” and Pascal kicked his ass so hard, he couldn’t sit down for a week. “See how well your phat ass helped you,” was Pascal’s parting remark.

No, correction, that wasn’t the most annoying thing about Vidcund. The most annoying thing about Vidcund was that he never bragged about anything. That was the big difference between him and his father Glarn. It was easy, almost justifiable, to hate Glarn for his achievements because he went around rubbing everyone’s noses in it. But if Loki hated Vidcund, everybody would just call him a jealous bitch.

So Loki’s hate for Vidcund was usually transferred to Pascal, who was almost as annoying as Vidcund. Like Loki and Vidcund, he got high grades, but he wasn’t overly-skilled or overly romantically popular. The only reason for this was that Pascal was so generic. Well, except for his interest in the occult. Loki would always tease Pascal, saying that he should look for a date to prom in Olive Specter’s graveyard; that way his date could be as stiff as he’d likely be. This usually earned Loki a punch in the nose.

Loki was doing fine for a while, trying not to strangle Vidcund and fighting with Pascal, until a new girl moved to Strangetown from Veronaville. Her name was Circe Salamis. She was a tanned, toned girl with deep brown eyes and a mane of long, flawless gingery hair.

She also had a temper as fiery as her red hair. She single-handedly beat up Buzz Grunt at the park after he’d tried to hit on her. The minute he laid eyes on Circe, standing with her foot on Buzz’s face and heard her growl, “You’re not so smooth now, are ya, bitch?” he knew he was in love.

Unfortunately for Loki, Pascal was also after Circe. He, too, liked a take-charge, assertive kind of Sim. Oh, sure, she didn’t care about the occult, but those small details wouldn’t get in the way.

Pascal, being the quicker of the two, went up to Circe and said, “Hey, nice fight.”

Loki snuck up behind him and said, “Don’t bother with this guy. He’s a necrophile.”

Cue the ass-kicking by Pascal.

Loki couldn’t quite remember if he’d expected Pascal to attack him the way he did. He figured he must have, because he remembered trying to run away right after calling Pascal a necrophile. Of course, Pascal caught him by the shirt. It was kind of funny, now that he’d thought about it, because he remembered trying to run away, but not going anywhere because Pascal had him by the shoulders.

A pale, black-haired boy on the swings thought it was pretty funny, too.

While Pascal and Loki were fighting, Vidcund walked up to Circe and said, “Hi.”

The two then got into a long conversation about outer space and aliens, and by the time Pascal was finished beating the crap out of Loki, Circe had asked Vidcund out on a date. Loki had come to his senses just in time to see Circe grab Vidcund and kiss him.

At that moment, Loki lost it. “Damn it!” he yelled, causing Pascal to glare at him and the black-haired boy to hide behind the slide.

Loki’s only consolation was that Circe and Vidcund ended up breaking up. For the stupidest reason, too. Circe wanted to Woohoo, but Vidcund “just wasn’t ready.”

Now, Strangetown High was no Catholic school. There were no rules about Woohooing, either, outside the school or inside the school. If they wanted to, the students could go into the bathroom at lunch and have at each other, just as long as they were back in class when the bell rang. Ninety-nine percent of the students took full advantage of the the lack of rules about sexual behavior. Hell, even stick-up-his-ass Pascal tossed his virginity out the window of the boys’ bathroom after chess club ended one afternoon.

There were literally only two people who were still virgins left in the entire school; Vidcund and a freshman named Nervous Subject. At least Nervous had a good excuse for not Woohooing; nobody wanted to risk getting him pregnant and angering his father, the Grim Reaper. A few of Nervous’s past boyfriends who had broken his heart mysteriously disappeared and nobody was eager to find out where they’d gone.

Vidcund was perfect at everything and, on top of that, he was a paragon of purity. Good god, he made Loki want to puke.

Now that they were all adults, Loki and Circe eventually hooked up and were married. The Curious brothers still lived together, Vidcund was still a virgin and better at everything than Loki, and Nervous lived with Loki and Circe. Not by choice or anything, they’d just shown up in Nervous’s dump of a flophouse and told him, “You’re coming with us.” Nervous, being the obedient Sim that he was, went with them.

The Curious brothers could experiment with getting abducted and being the aliens’ whores all they wanted, but Loki and Circe had the Son of Death himself, right there in their own home. Right now, they were working to see how he reacted to certain traumatizing situations by experimenting with him. Like how he reacted to shock therapy.

One day, Loki was testing how Nervous responded to being whipped with a riding crop (not very well) when he overheard Circe talking on the phone.

“Pascal was abducted by aliens?… Oh, he liked it?… Well, when’s the baby due?… He already had it? That’s nice… Whats his name?… Shaquanderone. Cute… Sure, we’re still on for the planetarium on Saturday… See you then.” She hung up.

“Who was that?” Loki asked warily.

“That was Vidcund.”

Loki looked up from hitting Nervous to glare into Circe’s eyes. Circe glared back, her brown eyes piercing through Loki’s blue ones.

“Loki, I’ve told you a thousand times: Vidcund and I are no longer dating. We’re only friends,” Circe stated firmly, her eyes never leaving Loki’s.

“Yeah, and you started off as ‘just friends’ in high school,” Loki shot back. “How do I know you two aren’t going to be messing around behind my back once the lights go down?”

“God damn it, Loki, are you retarded? What part of ‘we’re just friends’ don’t you understand?” Circe was shouting now.

Nervous stared back and forth, from Loki to Circe, his brown doe-eyes even wider with fear. He didn’t like it when Circe got this angry; she was prone to experimenting on him harder when she was like this.

Apparently Loki didn’t like it either, because he dropped his glare and didn’t talk back to her.

But he did smack Nervous one more time. The boy yelped.

“And you really shouldn’t be whipping him like that. We’re experimenting with shock therapy, not S&M.” Circe stomped upstairs.

-O-o-O-

Loki had left whipping Nervous (much to Nervous’s relief) to go cool down on the roof. There was a lone telescope up there and Loki liked to look through it when he was alone. Sometimes he looked at the stars. Sometimes he looked at the Curious brothers’ house.

Tonight, he could see Lazlo looking excited and high-fiving Vidcund. This was probably because both Vidcund and Lazlo had just gotten promoted.

Loki sneered. Vidcund had been promoted faster than anyone at the whole damn lab and he’d only been working there, what, three years? The man just wasn’t human.

Loki focused in on the deck where Pascal was stargazing with the telescope. He was just asking to get probed again, wasn’t he? Loki certainly hoped that he didn’t because Pascal was borderline murderous towards Loki thanks to the pregnancy hormones.

Loki saw Pascal rotate the telescope in his direction. Then he saw the shocked and angry expression on Pascal’s face. Then he saw Pascal wave—well, he saw a finger go up.

Loki chuckled at Pascal’s anger. He wasn’t mad at Circe anymore.

At least, not until he went inside.

“Yeah, Loki’s being a cunt about us hanging out together. He thinks we’re going to do it in the planetarium or some shit… What’s Lazlo screaming about? I can hear him in the background… Oh, you got promoted? Congratulations… I heard about your invention: a garbage can that sorts trash from recycling and throws stuff away for you. Pretty neat.”

This was the final straw for Loki. Vidcund’s invention would make his invention—a self-recycling newspaper—totally obsolete. And Circe had gone way too far—no, correction, Vidcund had gone way too far. How the hell could he be going out with his ex-girlfriend and not even think about cheating with her? It was impossible. Circe was bound to leave Loki for that perfect, planetarium-visiting, virginal, hyper-achieving freak of an ex-boyfriend. Loki simply could not let that happen.

“Vidcund must be stopped,” he thought.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Moral of the story: Don't mess with the son of Death.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Preserve Us

You know how in conservation biology you sometimes try to introduce a pair to be mated and one will just... just fuckin' merc' the other? Just absolutely obliterate them in a hissing, growling, nightmare ball of fury? Before anyone can stop them? Territorial and (to put it lightly) "uninterested", dispite your desperate desire to save their species from extinction, and need for them to get frisky?

I know.

Holy SHIT do I know.

There's a lot of reasons. Ways you can (hopefully) get around it. But first? Is finding out WHY it happened. Was it just the one? The environment? Were they sick? Or... as is the case sometimes, did they decide their Handler was their mate? Some species only mate once. Are loyal for life. You gotta work around that.

Which is all well and fine and good.

When we're talking about ANIMALS.

Non-sentient, non-sapient animals! Not ALIEN SPECIES! What the ABSOLUTE FRESH HELL did they expect from me!? Compliance?! This was UNETHICAL! Monstrous! I had been trying to slip my gaurds long enough to radio for help SINCE I GOT HERE.

I hope the fuckers ROTTED in whatever their Gods considered a Hell.

"Conservation facility" my ENTIRE ASS. You can't run CONSERVATION EFFORTS like this on SENTIENTS. Eugenics loving, atrocity fetishizing, immoral BASTARDS!!! And they KNEW it too. They HAD too! Or they wouldn't be HIDING it! Fucking KIDNAPPING scientists! Biologists! Doctors!

I was on my ways to study Lekku monkeys!

God...

I'm? I'm so tired of being pissed.

Furious and outraged and SCARED. Horrified and sick. There are PEOPLE here. Kids! And I don't... oh god, I don't... H-How LONG has this been going ON? Why did no one NOTICE?

Every day I feel my heart break. The desire to scream and scream and never STOP, grow inside me. I have to get out. I have to get us ALL out. Get these people FREE. Do SOMETHING. But I am forced to "conserve" the species assigned to me. The group assigned to me.

It's killing my love for the field. Making a mockery of everything I worked for.

I don't... I don't think my hands will ever be clean again.

But I have to help. Do everything I can. Make hell a little kinder, if nothing else. At least while I figure out a way OUT. My group deserves better. The groups I do not work with, deserve better.

I disguise games as "testing". Pages and pages of meaningless numbers ans scores. INSIST that enrichment is the key to success. Diet is EVERYTHING. Oh, and habitat? Well unless we can mimic their habitat there's no WAY they'll "breed".

No, no, using machines would stress them out too much.

It's like you DONT want babies!

Who's the expert here? That's RIGHT! Dr. Cho, but FAILING her and like five other people? Me. And I know for a FACT they are pulling the same scam. We ALL fucking hate you. Dr. Cho has KIDS, you FUCKS. Hasn't seen her son in YEARS thanks to you bastards. He was engaged. She's probably missed his WEDDING thanks to you!

Getting distracted, spiraling again, gotta stop DOING that.

It wont help anyone.

But God, if my brain doesn't slowly feel like it's shorting out the longer I'm here. Stress is called the silent killer for a reason. Or what that something else? Fuck. I can't even look it up! Bastards cut us off from the galactic web. Full information blackout. Because of COURSE they did... can't risk us rightfully calling for help.

Getting the Feds involved to shut this hell pit of a black site DOWN. Or a "whatever it truely is" site. Because it sure as SHIT has nothing to do with conservational biology. Except maybe the abuse of it.

But that doesn't help me right now.

Focus, damn it!

The Yanderens. Old, absurdly rare, nearly extinct, with a home planet they'd reduced to uninhabitable wastelands millennia ago due too... something. No one knew what. There had definitely been fighting. It WAS documented they were excellent fighters. Ruthless ones at that. But it was ALSO documented they strongly pack bonded.

There had been a lot of strongly worded warnings on what few documation my captures were able to find, translate, then shove at me. But honestly? They said the same thing about humans. Ooooh big scary persistent hunters~ oh nooooo! Watch out for the omnivores with a history of war! Sins of the father and we are defined by our diets! Class systems! Let's all JUDGE each ooooootheeeeer~!

Yeah, no. Not buying it.

Especially when the "warnings" were so damn vague and poorly documented. All "the HORRORS!" and "we barely SURVIVED!". Cause honestly? The Yanderens I was watching over? Easily the most mild and temperate individuals I had ever met. No tantrums from the kids, no big emotional meltdowns, just curiosity and at WORST? Mild frustration.

It made everything ten thousand times worse for me, that these poor people were in this hellish place. They were calm. Curious. Meant for greater, BETTER things! They should be out, playing and learning. Exploring and enjoying peaceful strolls in some art gallery or zen garden somewhere! Not... not this sterile fucking LAB.

But then M-17 loses his SHIT.

And now I'm kinda panicking. Because F-6 is not just dead, God rest her soul (she didn't deserve this. Oh god. She was so SWEET.), but M-17 might just be too, soon. If I can't find out what HAPPENED. Because if he's "feral" or "diseased" or whatever other horrifying terminology they end up using? They DO something about it.

And I can't actually stop them.

I... I don't know if it was a trauma response. Or I did something wrong. I could PROBABLY pass it off as my needing more studies into their observed "mating habits"? That... that I somehow... turned it... uuuuh... dominance battle? Shit. Where are my notes?!

F-6 is DEAD and its all my fault.

She was such a cuddle fiend too. Always excited to hear about my studies, from before. My life. Wanted to join me after we got out of here. I never should have let her volunteer. Granted, she wouldn't have taken no for an answer. Wanted to spend the pregnancy plotting our escape. Asked me to help raise the kid once we got out. Had a whole grand plan. But I...And I...

God...

I should have said NO. Insisted. It was just so hard, when F-6 had made it all sound like it would be okay. Like she had a plan and all I need to do was trust her. Believe in her. Then we could be free.

I had hoped M-17 would work best. He was always the most agreeable and quick on the uptake. I figured... well... ha ha. God, I'm such an IDIOT. I should have CHECKED. Who KNOWS what happened before I arrived? What triggered I just accidentally rammed my foot into? FUCK! I sweep everything from me desk onto the ground. Don't give I shit that I'll have to clean it up later,

I had figured M-17 would be COOL with it.

This place is getting to me, isn't it?

Why the FUCK would anyone be COOL with getting jumped? Bred like an animal? Shoved in some random ass room, with a vaguely familiar stranger, and told "now fuck. We want a literal litter from you two"? All while some biologist watchs and makes god damned NOTES!?

Of course he fought back. OF COURSE he didn't stop!

The only one there he could trust was himself.

I...I'm becoming a monster... aren't I?

Oh god.

At least we're in the satellite facility. The gaurds are definitely going to rat me out, but the news will take time to filter back. And... and the Yanderens being so "dangerous" might work in my favor. I... I can spin this. I HAVE to spin this. I can't let TWO people die for my fuck up.

I promised myself I would get as many people out as I could. I refuse to back out now. Even if that means crying, puking, then going out there to lie my ASS off. This was TOTALLY NORMAL. In fact, expected! Yep! It means that's we've determined that M-17 is the alpha Yanderen! A thing that is both REAL and possible to BE!

I rinse my mouth, stomach empty. Crying has exhausted me. But I can't give up. Too many lives count on me now. I... I wish so badly I was just a nobody again. Just some random biology student, trying to make a name for herself. Being "important" is a CURSE.

I try not to chug my water as I half stumble out of the glorified shoebox that is my bathroom into the much larger and Fancier CLOSET that is my room. Truely, no expense spared, for the captives they ripped away from their lives. So glad I am here willingly and of my own volition.

I gather myself. Finally ready to go and try to untangle the mess I have made of everything. When a deep booming alarm rattles my bones. The lights flickering to red. Blast doors slide down, SLAM shut over the transparent recessed bit of wall that counts as my window, the door to the rest of the facility.

Trapping me inside my small room.

Almost immediately after, an EXPLOSION rocks the world hard enough to knock me from my feet. Only the bed's limited padding keeping me from a nasty concussion. The edge of it still ramming painfully into my shoulder. Another explosion. Then another. I sit for a long, terrible, second stunned.

The moment passes.

I scramble on my hands and knees for the in facility communication device that I had knocked from my desk in anger, grief. Not daring to stand lest I be thrown down again. I manage to find it as the world shakes again for the fifth time. Followed by what sounds like gun fire out in the halls.

I fling myself back towards my shitty little bunk. Drag every bit of padding and protection I can, down and under it with me. If the roof goes? I want shock absorption. If shots get through the door? I want something to slow those blasts down. Anything. ANYTHING! To increase my fucked chances of surviving.

I burrito up and wriggle back as deep as I can. The world muffled but ending just outside my crawlspace. Then I desperately try to get one of the others on the line. I got nothing but chaos. Running. Running. Hiding. And Dead.

Dead. Dying.

Remember me.

And GONE.

Some of them fighting with their groups too freedom. Some being targeted right along side their captors. Others savaged by the ACTUAL animals they had been working with, the one's Galacticly deemed too dangerous for effort like this. Someone or something had set EVERYONE free. A simultaneous attack on all fronts that our captors could not put down or escape.

The Yanderens were out there.

Oh god. Please let them be okay. They wer-

My thoughts ground to a halt as M-32 LAUNCHED his tiny body onto the screen of one of the security feeds I was desperately looking through. F-6 had figured out how to get us a backdoor to them a long time ago. M-32 was just a kid. A small, soft, cuddly little thing that loved to lean against me and crawl into my lap. All cherubic cheeks and cute little curls. Shy!

Yet I watched... in mounting horror... as like a lion on some unfortunate animal, he landed on a gaurds back. Small arms going around his body in a mockery of a hug. Head tilting so he could BITE at the back of the man's neck, small hands clawing and ripping at weak points in his armor, as he screamed. Thrashed. Tried desperately to get M-32 OFF of him.

There was so much blood.

My hands were shaking. So much, I accidentally hit the next screen button. Jerked my thumb back. But... but oh god. There was F-26. Using the butt of a rifle to slam down against the head of a scientist. Again and again and again. Long after the begging and thrashing stopped. I flipped again. M-4? No... please not M-4. Not the soft spoken and wise...

I watched as he grinned, a cold thing, and shot out another joint. His foot on the chest of the head scientist who had moved him to a different group. In the background, his supervisor lay dead. They had not died quickly. The head scientist was begging. A mess of tears and pain. M-4 shot another joint, pressing his foot down harder.

I wanted to be sick.

I flipped again. And again. And AGAIN.

H...Had I known them at ALL? Like demons wearing the faces of those I'd known. People I'd trusted. Not a SINGLE ONE was... oh... oh god. F-6. Had she been too? Would I have ever known? Was THIS what all those warnings meant? I couldn't think. Couldn't breath. Had... Had never had a panic attack but... BUT-!

I wheezed.

Shook.

"Oh, Clever giiiirl~" A familiar voice sang, before a blood splattered face flickered into being on the screen in my hands. "Where aaaare yoooou~?"

M-17. He'd somehow managed to take over the security cameras. That or the communication feed. His eyes were bright. A grin on his face like I'd never seen from him. ALIVE in a way I'd never seen him. The excitement transformed his face. No longer softly doll like, but something DANGEROUS. Unhinged. His eyes dilated and deadly teeth on display.

"Come out, come out wherever you aaaare~. I have so much to TELL you! We have so much to DO! I'm going to make you MINE sweetheart! No one else can have you. So come out. I won't hurt you much, I promise! Just gotta make you mine then we can leave okay~?"

Furious snarls echoed through the halls. Male and female alike. Old and young. I... I recognized each of those voices. What was HAPPENING?

"Aaaah? Did you TRASH really think you DESERVED her? Ha! Please." M-17 grin was cruel. Mocking. "You don't have a chance in hell of taking what's MINE."

His eyes seems to shift away from unseen enemies and back, somehow, to me. Warming to something euphoric. Resting his head on his hand as if to consider me. His fingers spread, stroking his own face, as if the desire to TOUCH was simply too great. As if what he was imagining was bleeding over into the real world.

"Oh clever girl~ my clever, clever girl~♡ I can't wait til it's just you and ME. Start think of where you want to go first, okay? We're going to get married. Have that child you wanted me for. All the things you ever dreamed~♡ I'm going to have you all to myself. No more annoying others. Ah~ can't wait to find you soon!"

"But first?"

"May the best of us Win."