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operation-619 · 4 years ago

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Her

Chapter two: crimson

UD- 24th June 2021

Big Thank yo to my translator, @primavera-allegoria this story wouldn’t be completed or written if it wasn’t for you. So thank you.

Summary: AU series were Bucky is safe and sound after AOU, (Y/N) (L/N) is a troubled woman with a haunting past, and its coming back to enslave her. But she doesn’t care, her interest is in a certain Captain America lead to a night that set off a series of unfortunate twists and turns. Can she come out on the other side, with her past a secret and a family to come home to. Or will she burn and take everyone down with her.

Warning!! this chapter contains scenes some may find upsetting and disturbing read at your own risk.

Word Count- 4K+

If you have any question please ask, reviews are welcome let me know what I can approve on and what you like.

[Masterlist]

Chapter I-Forest : Chapter III-Hiraeth

The rebuilding of stark Tower 2012

“You know Tony, I would love to find an apartment in New York, but I can’t leave a child by itself for more than an hour, legally” (E/C) eyes cast downwards at the plans of the new compound, (Y/N) refused to wipe the smirk off her face as she heard the dramatic intake of breath behind her.

“Are you calling me a child.” She could picture the look of disdain on his face, his mouth wide open in mock shock and hand on his Arc Reactor. (H/C) textured hair bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head in disbelief. She walked over to the large window that overlooked the rubble that once was New York.

Heaving a sigh, she wrapped her arms around her torso and clenched tightly, her eyes became glassy as she withheld the tears threatening to come down her face. Her mind was running too fast for her to keep up with, the thought of what she could have done circled her head in a taunting manner. ‘I could’ve saved people, children.’ The guilt was evident in her eyes but not on her face, no she hid that well.

“You knew it had to be done,” obviously not too well, “there would’ve been more damaged with you and Banner out there, chaos. And we can really only just about control Banner. I did it to keep you safe.” The remorse was clear on his tongue she just refused to listen.

“So, knocking me out with that heavy duty sedative was your best option? I felt like a piece of shit when you did that with no explanation Tony! And to mention the fact that you left me in my room without so much of a note, do you have any idea how scary it was to wake up to you falling out the fucking hole in the sky!” her face was contorted into a painful twist as she grew closer and closer to Tony, her index finger jutted out and repeatedly jab his arc reactor. The strength behind it surprised him and led to him placing his hand onto her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

The veins in her body started to hum a soft crimson, her eyes filled with tears as she gasped for air. She could feel her body starting to change, the heat building up begging to be released was a sign she needed to breathe.

“You and I both know that the consequence would’ve been too much for everyone to face given our current situation.” His voice was soft as if he were talking to a wounded animal; he caressed her elbow and brought her head to lay on his chest. The soft humming of his reactor brought comfort to her. (Y/N) thought back to the moment she locked eyes upon the figure of a falling Iron Man, she couldn’t put into words the emotions that coursed through her body as she watched him fall. The scream that left her mouth shook the whole room, yet it was unheard with all the chaos flying around the city.

“I know, I am just pissed off that’s all. You promised not to do that again,” her voice was petite, the vulnerability flowing off her in waves.

She pulled her head away from his chest and looked up at him, a smirk slowly making its way to her face; “And fuck you for not taking me to get some Shawarma.” She pulled herself away from him and punched him in the arm playfully. She laughed as she watches his mouth form an ‘O’ as he rubbed the pain away.

“That looked like it hurt Tony,” (Y/N) whipped her head around at the new voice and immediately relaxed once she saw it was Pepper, the strawberry blonde gave the other lady a hug on her way to Tony. They exchanged a few words before Pepper came back to (Y/N).

“I’m going back to Malibu for a few weeks, wanted to know if you wanted to come?” The woman held a look in her eyes that (Y/N) had seen before; pity, the fact that Pepper was the one to find (Y/N) in her room with the window smashed, the furniture broken and all over the place with her sat, stark naked in the middle of it all. Pepper saw the struggle clear on (Y/N)’s face when she stepped into the room. The pain. The horror. The ongoing battle within her as she tried to claw her way out of the disorientated state, she was in.

“I don’t know, I still have to do clean up here- “

“Don’t worry about it I’ve got it, go you deserve it Foss,” (Y/N) winced at the nickname and walked out the office. The two adults watched the head of (H/C) curls disappear into the mass of construction and working bodies.

“JARVIS pull up surveillance please, from her room.” Pepper’s voice was filled with an emotion that Tony couldn’t place. It didn’t matter the moment the wall in front of them filled up with an image of (Y/N)’s form sleeping in the bed.

His face showed the confusion on his face as he looked at the surveillance footage- “why am I watching (Y/N) sleep Pep?”- his eyebrows screwed together as he looked from her freckle covered face to the video.

“Just watch.” Her voice held authority that Stark did not question.

The tape speed forward for a moment, the images past quickly from her getting up and looking around the room in confusion, to her trying to open the door, to then turning around and seeing the Chitauri flying around outside her large window. She tries the door handle one last time before slowly walking to the window. Hands on it as she surveys the scene unravelling in front of her.

“Pepper?” Tony’s voice is full of question as he watches the tape pick up speed again to the moment (Y/N) catches him falling out of the sky. The veins in her body starts to pulse a deep crimson as she slams her fist against the window in anguish.

It happens to quickly that Tony orders Jarvis to rewind and slow down the tape. Pepper takes a seat on the raised platform surrounding them and places her head in her hands.

But he doesn’t notice; he’s got his eyes focused on the image of (Y/N) hunched over in pain as her body starts to become overwhelmed in light as she screams in fear, the room starts to shake. A crack forms on the window, then one crack turns into five and then five turn into hundreds of spider webs turning the triple-glazed-Tony-Stark proof window into shards that fly across the room and fall onto the people outside. The clothes burn off as her body becomes too hot, all the pent-up energy finally being released. Crimson ribbons start to flutter around her body creating a circle that envelopes her trembling body as she hunched over in pain, the furniture in the room starts to shake as it lifted off the ground and hovers in the air.

All of a sudden, the ribbons that were once dancing around her erupted outwards as her upper body was flung upwards and a silent scream left her body. Everything broke; the bed, the table, the desk, and the walls dented.

She falls to the floor quickly, her head bounces from the immediate impact. The tape fast forwards again, and throughout her body doesn’t stop glowing, humming softly as it heals itself of self-inflicted injuries. The tapes stops suddenly to (Y/N) waking up; she arches of the ground and whips her head back and forth trying to grasp onto the perplexing situation at hand. But the confusion plastered on her face is clear as glass. A shard of bright light appears in the corner of the video before slowly becoming wider, drowning the dark and bleak room in artificial light.

(Y/N)’s face turns slowly to the figure in the doorway, a series of emotions flash across her face as she tries to understand everything, anything at all.

“Tony?” The plead fell on death ears as the 176 second clip was rewound and replayed over and over again; the already clenched jaw became slack before tensing again. His forehead creased in anguish as the image of the vulnerable woman stained is mind.

“Tony?” He exhaled violently through his nostrils before hanging is head low, he screwed his eyes shut and counted to ten in his head.

‘You fucked up’

‘Again’

“I…I promised her, I’d protect her and let nothing happen to her again Pep. I promised.” His voice meagre as he inhaled deeply trying to ignore the quaking of his lungs. He looked up at the paused video, millions of thoughts swarming his already distressed head. Taking a step back he cleared his throat.

“Jarvis.”

“Yes Sir?”

“Delete the footage, erase it.”

“Permanently sir?”

“Yes”

“And what of the Bedroom Sir?”

“What bedroom Jarvis?”

“Of course, sir.”

He looked to his left at the strawberry blonde, sat calmly watching his body, waiting for it to crumple. She was reading him like always but this time she couldn’t quite understand the writing on the pages, it kept shifting from one thing to another.

“We don’t speak of this Pepper, she doesn’t remember the surge, she just remembers waking up and seeing me fall, and that is as good as it gets,” his voice was low, a whisper of a whisper. His dark brown eyes met her blue in a silent agreement.

An agreement to protect what could destroy everything. And nothing at the same time.

“Jarvis?” He raised his eyebrows at nothing waiting patiently for the response.

“You were never here sir.”

With a nod he turned and left, never looking back as he marched to find something to preoccupy his mind from combustion.

Silence met Pepper’s ears for a few minutes before the silence was filled with a small sniffle, wiping her hand underneath her nose she looked up to the ceiling blinking a few times to calm herself. She needs to control herself for her sake. Before she screams.

Nodding to no one she gets up.

Smooths out her skirt.

And leaves.

March 14th, 2015

Medical bay, New Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.

“We had to heavily sedate her so there would be no chance of a surge of any kind like you suggested Tony, her body is damaged though. He put some kind of poison in her system that is unnatural.”

His heart stuttered as he listened to the Doctor speak, ‘unnatural, what does she mean?’.

“I tested it and I couldn’t find any kind of natural compound in the substance I extracted from her blood, I don’t think it was her body trying to decompose it if that is what you’re thinking because whatever they put in her, it’s. I’m so sorry Tony,”

His heart became erratic the sound became claustrophobic, ‘what does she mean she’s sorry?’.

“It’s aim was to halt her reaction, the deadly kind so they could do something, but it did more than that Tony, it’s made her weak. She’s broken and I don’t know how to fix her.”

His heart burst, the pain was so great it became numb, it was so great he saw black spots as his vision swam, it was so great he forgot that the team was down the hall.

It was so great that he screamed.

His heart and lungs felt heavy as he forced in air to stop him from falling, he looked up at Cho and grabbed her by the shoulders, he looked into her fear painted eyes and begged, pleaded with her to stop lying.

“Tony, there is nothing I can do, it’s all up to her biology now. My machines can’t fix her, they’d kill her or make it worse. I’m sorry.” She placed a consoling hand on his cheek, a mockery to him as the apology felt empty, scares of emotion.

His eye landed on the shell of a human, his (Y/N) laid there motionless, mindless, and uncomfortably beautiful. Her dark complexion paling and lifeless.

His stomach felt twisted as he dragged in a broken breath, it settled uncomfortably within him as he continued to stare at the woman he has known since 23, he could remember the way the dimly lit dinner made her eyes shine so brightly with pain. He felt at peace for a moment when he saw the conflict flitter across her face as he drunkenly plonked down opposite her in the sticky leather booth.

They related to each other on so many levels without a word spoken, the loss and torment they both endured was what helped them come together. But their undying love and friendship was what kept them together.

The beeping became unbearable, it mocked him with the intensity of it obnoxiously loud beep. He gritted his teeth and looked down at the monitor, it looked clean and untouched, beautifully innocent for a machine.

Unlike her, lying in that bed covered in swells, darkened colours and bumps, a majestic art-piece for the psychopaths of the world.

The rhythm of the beeping was fast, it sounded like the machine was running out of breath to keep up with her heart rate. He spent years trying to keep up with her, yet this was the closet he’d been to see her so…peaceful.

“Heal for me,” he gasped out as the tears finally dripped down his face. Placing a delicate kiss on her forehead he turned and walked out the room – if he started any longer at her he would do something; he didn’t know what yet, but it wouldn’t be good.

His footsteps echoed viscously in the hallway as he marched down towards the group of heroes sat in the living room; waiting, begging, pleading that she would be okay. They better pray some more.

Natasha was the first to see Tony enter the room, she kept quiet and just watched him, standing there- catatonic. Her eyes followed the figure as it went towards the island that separated the living room from the kitchen. Those eyes were swimming in tears as they watched Tony hunch over the island, his shoulders wide and stiff as he started hard at the marble countertop.

“Tony?” Eyes snapped to the red head that asked the question, then followed her line of sight to the billionaire that looked too quiet. No one moved as the man in question looked up to meet the questioning gaze of his teammate. No one moved as he turned his back towards everyone.

But everyone flinched when the figure lurched forward and grabbed the flowerpot off the stand and throw it across the room, next were the plates and decorations on the island, they flew across the room and landed in a million pieces.

Chairs, books, spoons, and pots danced in the air and crashed onto the floor.

It went on for minutes, the display of vulnerability became too much for Tony as he stopped and looked at the mess he made, back facing the team, he looked down the corridor he came from minutes ago. It was littered with piece of broken porcelain and china.

His face remained stoic as an image of (Y/N) appeared in front of him, broken and shattered in a million pieces, too many for him to put back together.

He couldn’t fix her. No one could.

He turned to the team, “I want background on the man that did this, everything. I want no place let untouched you hear me?” the silence answered his question. He looked at his team- “Where the fuck is Rogers?”

Bucky looked at Sam and then at Natasha. They exchanged a conversation that Tony was too tired to pick up on.

“He left with K-” Nat shot the solider a look before standing up and placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“He left with her, before any of this went down. He doesn’t know.” Her perfectly arched eyebrows came together as she observed the conflict smothering Tony’s face.

With a nod the billionaire rubbed Natasha’s hand and walked away to his room not uttering another word.

But everyone felt the pressure he left behind, the severity of the situation weighed heavily on their shoulders as they all, one by one, slowly got up and put their plan into action.

But their eyes were all focused on the corridor Tony had come from, because at the end of it lay their friend and teammate fighting for her life.

March 15th 13:41pm, Downtown New York

Steve Rogers is a man of many things, loyalty and honesty is just some of them. But ever since he woke up in a different century his views have changed, not drastically but the influence of a few certain men and women can do a lot to a man.

But it wasn’t just those people that caused his views to change slightly, it was the way the world changed, the way the people changed and their views on the world. How women walked around covered in tattoos and piercing, some women walking around in barley anything.

How men no longer seemed to show women respect, grabbing them when they see fit, how the world had forgotten about all the lives lost during the war.

All his friends.

Within the first month of him awakening from the ice he had hopes that some of his past was able to hold out, anything and within minutes of that thought crossing his mind reality slapped him hard in his perfect face. Everything he knew was either changed or gone and that was that, no bullshit. And he was kind of glad about that, he knew he had to figure out what to do and he need that distraction, any distraction would be welcomed with opened arms.

After the attack of New York, he made it a priority to learn about what he missed and gain new skills, cooking being one of them. And he did, he prided himself on that, all the new skills he learnt being able to use the tablets and phone that are interactive and portable, learning that things taste so much better when there not boiled. And that he really, really feels out of place.

Although Stark offered to house him in his tower after the attack of New York, he declined. He found comfort in the separation between work and, and he didn’t really have a life outside of being Captain America. He didn’t have anything because everything in that apartment was already there when he moved in, including the food.

He worked his frustration out in the gym not far from where he lived. The same place Nick Fury asked for his helped, where he found his purpose again. But he still felt empty. So, he did what any sane person would do.

He talked to Natasha.

Now Steve Rogers is a man of simple things, he finds happiness in other people’s happiness, find love in the fact that the world is safe from the biggest threat from his time.

“You need to get laid Rogers. Simple.”

What does a man like Steve Rogers say to that, he wasn’t exactly what you would call experienced or a natural in that area of ‘expertise’, Hell he’s never seen a woman naked before let alone touch a woman with that intent. But the more Natasha explained it the more it made sense to him, the feeling of not knowing what he needs, feeling empty.

So, he tried it.

A lot.

Steve Rogers is a man of many things, honesty, sexual prowess, and loyalty are just a some of those things that have made him the man he is today, the very same man who is waking up in a bed coated in the scent of apples and cinnamon and a sprinkling of sweat covering his back.

“Turn it off,” the scent was intoxicating, so homely and warm. It reminded him of his mother’s apple pie. The way she sang as she made one once they got home from church, the love that went into a single slice made his heart grow with warmth. The scent was accompanied by the beeping that was increasingly getting louder and quicker not to mention slightly irritating.

“Turn it off,” a hand slapped him haphazardly on the shoulder as he cracked open an eye to look at the flashing red numbers that read 13:42. The numbers kept flashing in a sequence, they mean nothing to him just random flashing numbers. He wondered if he kept staring at them then maybe they’d start to say something to him.

Suddenly a hand came slithering past his head to push a button on top of the cubed alarm-clock. Bright red nail-polish was decorating the long nails perfectly, the manicured hands attached to the slender arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hot kiss was placed on his left shoulder.

He lost himself in the tingle that covered his back; the goosebumps that enveloped him in a warm embrace, he was happy this morning in his own little world. The nails gently ran down his abdomen and danced around his belly button. The chills sent a smile to his face.

Turning around his eyes swept across the face of the woman that lay beside him with her leg draped carelessly over his hip. The storm in her eyes became more apparent as the sun draped its warm caresses over their laying figures. The (E/C) was like liquid heaven, whispering to him to come take a swim.

“You want pancakes or something else?” Emerald green. Her eyes were emerald green not (E/C).

‘What are you doing?’

“Steve? Are you awake in there?” his eye flickered up to meet hers; a smile was plastered over her face, her lips looked dry from the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. She giggled and rolled over, so she was sat on the edge of the bed, stretching she reached forward to grab his shirt that was hanging off the edge of the bedside table. Slipping it on she pranced out of the door and disappeared.

“Fuck.”

Sitting up he looked over the bedroom that was covered in personal effects including the lace violent panties she wore last night. The room smelled of sex and a fruity perfume that hurt his head, last night it made his head flutter but right now it burnt his nostrils with how pungent it was. He grabbed his boxers lying next to his feet and pulled them on before walking out of the bedroom and into the open-planned living, kitchen area.

His eyes were drawn to the blue fabric swishing back and forth on the small figure at the island, her hair was up in a messy bun, strands sticking out everywhere as she bopped her head back and forth. Flour was smudge on her thigh and on the back of her neck; she looked over her shoulder at the sound of him sitting down at the island. He smiled back and just watched her. He felt calm this morning, he didn’t know what it was, but he felt oddly calm.

“You want a smoothie with it as well baby?” He just hummed, too busy watching his hands fiddle with the small Vibranium bracelet that always adorned his wrist. It was given to him on Christmas three years ago when the team did secret Santa, it took a small amount of explaining for him to understand what it was.

It was a small navy-blue plush box wearing a black ribbon tie, the letter just said ‘I noticed the ones you buy keep breaking, this unbreakable like my bond with you x’ he had a hunch about who it was from and the look of surprise on (Y/N)’s face told him, it had been on his left wrist ever since.

His thumb and forefinger rubbed the links subconsciously as he thought about (Y/N)’s words last night, how the emotion on her face looked raw and deep, he was perplexed by her to say the least. He knew about her, but he didn’t know her, and god did he want to. It seemed that she kept him at an arms distance compared to everyone else, at first, he thought it was Tony’s influence but then he saw that she had Stark wrapped around her finger. He then concluded that it was him, he was the reason she didn’t trust Steven Grant Rogers.

She trusted Captain America, when they were both on the field, she trusted him. But the moment he put the persona away and the shield down, she was back to keeping him at a distance.

“Your phones ringing.” He looked up at the sound of her voice and watched as she pointed to his phone charging on the coffee table on the side of the couch.

He numbly walked over and unplugged the phone but was a second too late to accept the call. She never called him, she never really said anything to him outside of work except a goodbye and a hello. His mind was racing as he selected redial and placed his phone to his ear as he turned around and walked back over to the island.

“It was Buck,” his husky voice drifted through the air, he nodded his head as the red smoothie was placed in front of him. Placing a kiss on the top her head he muttered a thank you as she walked past heading to sit down to eat her food.

“Thank fuck Rogers, I’ve been trying to call you all night.” He scoffed at the tone he was greeted with.

“Good morning to you to sunshine, I was a bit busy last night punk.” He smiled over his glass as he heard the clattering of a fork behind him.

“I need you in here right now Steve.” He chugged down the rest of his smoothie and sucked in a breath. He booked the weekend off, if it was an emergency, they knew the protocol.

“I’m off all weekend punk, you know this. If this is about the unfinished paperwork hand it to (Y/N), she knows the detail, she can finish them for me.” He heard silence on the other end of the phone, he called out Bucky’s name thinking the line went dead but him clearing his throat told him that he was silent for another reason.

“She can’t do that right now Steve, she’s down. Someone got to her.”

The thick glass in his hands shattered, breaking into tiny shards. Cutting his hands and his heart.

______

Taglist;

@vicmc624

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a2tony · 5 years ago

Note

I heard you like prompts lol. How about tony accidentally discovering that peter (his sweet, innocent, nerdy son) is a camboy?

(Holy fuck! What a great prompt. I adore this <3 Here goes:)

It’s not as if typing “Spider man boxer shorts cumshot” into the search bar -didn’t- make Tony feel guilty. It was that a recovering party animal/stuck-up asshole simply ate shame for breakfast. Tony feels a thrill like no other as his screen populates with sixteen thumbnails of bare, rigid cocks peeking from between the colorful flaps of cartoon underwear.

Sometimes, he had no specific preference. Clicking the first one and cycling through whatever playlist was linked to it on the right. He wasn’t the only pervert in his fifties obsessed with the bite-sized superhero.

He was just the only one who knew the man beneath the mask. Who had seen him less than forty-five minutes, ago. Peter had hugged him and thanked him profusely for help on his graduate essay. He’d thanked Tony with grateful tears in his eyes and said the man was like a -father- to him.

Tony hisses at the memory and pulses beneath his slacks like some taboo fetishist. He wants to pretend hearing Peter’s lips whisper Daddy to him wouldn’t make him shoot long and hard in his slacks. He wants to...

...but one of the videos has a title that catches his eye.

“Spidxer-Fuckbait Thanks Iron Daddy for Homework Help”

Tony shakes his head slightly. The heat of even thinking about that scenario making his heart thrum almost painfully. His cock is so rigid that his pants are cutting into him. He unzips and struggles to wrestle himself free. Standing, he clicks the video.

The first sounds are shuffling. Tony looks down past his bulge to the screen. The camboy’s mask is meticulously detailed. He shows it off as he dances on his hands and knees before the camera. Even the nano-metals seem convincing. Tony likes when the camboys he finds are also cosplayers. Their convincing costumes and weapons adding to the tawdry fantasies he has about his former mentee.

It feels deliciously blasphemous to imagine Peter defiling millions of dollars worth of technology just to help the anonymous internet fingerfuck themselves into oblivion. It feels deliciously blasphemous to imagine Peter. Full Stop.

He pushes his pants down to his ankles and resumes his seat before the laptop. The performer hasn’t started talking, yet. He’s simply shaking his spider-print rump at his camera. Tony strokes himself with gratitude, imagining those muscled thighs around his own.

This one really could be a superhero. Every inch of him is tight and etched with power. Tony allows himself to sink into the idea that this is Peter. That he’s doing this just for Tony Stark. His daddy. He whispers to himself. “I thought you were gonna thank me, kid...”

He’s surprised to feel his cock flex in his fist. Sure, Peter’s about to get his Ph.D. That doesn’t mean Tony’s ever going to stop calling him that stupid nickname. Secretly, he thinks the boy likes it. Too many people expect too much out of him. At least he gets to hang loose around Tony.

Or at least, that’s what Tony tells himself.

Tony is unsurprised when the Peter-clone peels off his boxers to reveal a perfectly hairless buffet of ass and balls to the camera. He finds his hips lifting off his desk chair toward the screen. Imagining what Peter would say in offer to him.

He doesn’t need to imagine for long, because this is when the camboy finally opens up and expresses what he’s promised in the title. “Oh, daddy. I’m so glad my homework’s all done. I was so distracted, all night.”

“Oh,” Tony blinks at the realization that this guy sounds just as squeaky as his favorite superhero. The amazing impression

“I could feel you getting hard for me. I never told you, but I sense that. How focused you are on my lips. My body. My instincts can’t tell between your fixation and danger... I kind of like that about you.”

Tony bites his bottom lip. If only that were true. If only Peter spent every single one of their study sessions or even Avengers meetings knowing that Tony was at least 50% stuck wondering what his protege would look like on his lap.

“I wish I could just tell you that I want you, too. That I’ve always wanted you and I’d wait for you until the end of time, daddy. Iron-daddy. I can’t stop thinking about how you looked, tonight. So dapper in just sweatpants and a hoodie. You fucking end me, Tony Stark.”

Tony whimpers at the inflection on his name. The tremble in the camboy’s voice. Just like Peter. Nervous confidence dancing on every syllable. He didn’t often find camboys that called out for the older heroes like Iron Man. They stuck to the ones who were always masked or the enterally young like Captain America.

It was understood that whatever wisecrack swung the streets was at least a generation below the salt and pepper hair of Tony Stark. It was understood that only the most niche viewers would even want this.

Tony glanced to the view count.

His eyebrows raise at the time of the video’s publishing. Exactly ten minutes ago. Tony feels that familiar quaking in his chest. Overwhelming pleasure at the world lining up with his wishes. He could pretend this was his Peter. Fresh off a study session and aching to go home and unload the frustrations of the chaste night he didn’t want.

Tony relaxes his left arm. He’d been gripping his mouse fiercely to keep the tension building in his body from making the attention he’s paying to his cock from growing uncomfortable. He’s practically on his feet, again. Thankfully, this video isn’t long. He’s barely touched himself and he’s almost done.

Though, he’d been pent up for hours as Peter knelt his head over their shared tablet and read the essay out loud to Tony as the man idly scanned for errors he was entirely sure Peter wouldn’t make.

“Tony, why don’t you realize I just want you to pull me onto your lap and tell me you’re tired of hearing about Quantum fucking physics and... and...”

Tony stops moving as he watches... Peter Parker cum on the bedspread he’d given him when he started college all those years ago. It had been too large for the twin bed Peter was likely to have, but Tony had ordered thousands of dollars worth of gifts when Peter had refused to let him pay his tuition.

He’d hinted at the fact that Peter was welcome to sell whatever he needed along the way.

And Peter had joked that his goal was to finish college and make enough money to house all his cool new gifts. Not pawn them off.

Tony wipes his hands off and ignores the continued throbbing of his erection. With a single click, he’s on this camboy’s profile and suddenly privy to what might as well be Peter’s personal calendar of study sessions.

Every Thursday just after 10pm for months and months.

“Spidxer-fuckbait thanks Iron Daddy for ride to Urgent Care” on the night Peter accidentally learned he had an allergy to one of Tony’s exotic dishes.

“Spidxer-fuckbait makes Iron Daddy jealous talking about Thor” on the night of Peter’s 29th birthday where they didn’t study, but instead had a pool party. ...where Thor drunkenly flirted with Peter all night and Peter did not object.

“Spidxer-fuckbait cooks for sick Iron Daddy” on the night they ended up not studying because Tony had the flu and Peter didn’t want to catch it. Tony shrugs and clicks the “Live Camshow” button next to the performer’s name and the tiny green dot that indicates he’s still online. He types in an offer and waits for a reply.

Instead of negotiating, the camshow starts immediately. The naked, though masked, man waves at his camera and chirps a polite “hello!” Tony offers to share his own video feed and Spidxer-fuckbait accepts after charging an additional fee.

Tony tilts the camera up toward his face. In case this is a misread, he doesn’t want to expose himself to someone who -doesn’t- want it. He takes a deep breath. Smiles.

He can tell when his face finally appears on the other person’s screen. Their shoulders slump. “I... I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs, slightly. “I didn’t pay for this so I could scold you. Come back over?”

The slumped shoulders lift. As does the hung head. “A...are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony scoffs. “When I was scrapbooking your thank you cards from university, I didn’t realize I could have been getting thanked like this. Get. Your ass. Back over here. NOW.”

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docfuture · 4 years ago

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Princess, part 10

[This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16. Links to some of my other work are here. Updates were theoretically biweekly–more realistically, I’m going to try to get the next one out by early July.]

Previous: Part 9

Flicker was going to lose pieces of self. She could put memory summaries in the Database, but that wasn't enough. She could only permanently store her emotional context in her squishy human brain, which was offline. This constricted connections between memory, place, and time. Her older memories should be intact. When the isotope exchanges were complete and she could finally restart everything and heal, everything should still be there. But that didn't help now; anything old that she didn't already have loaded into her speed mind was inaccessible, and any new context would be ephemeral--gone after her next proper sleep. And that 'should'... wasn't a would. Itchy spots in her speed mind hinted at losses on the boundary, reflexes and habits needed for her squishy and speed halves to work together that she might have to relearn. Her speech synchronization problems might return, or her chronic self-interrupting. Old sensory issues might come back, too. Those losses might extend to memory access. Which was a little scary. Moments perfectly preserved in a box did her no good if she forgot where she put the box. Perhaps because the original link to the first box was now in a junk box labeled 'Misc' on a shelf somewhere. But that was life when she wasn't technically alive, with a heart that couldn't beat, lungs that couldn't breathe, and a whole reconstituted flesh body locked down in suspended chemical animation while the isotope exchanger worked. Force fields helped protect everything else from her still-considerable radioactivity. She probably wouldn't remember exactly how the half-pain, half-itching from her speed body felt, or how her claustrophobia was combining with sensory deprivation to make everything more unpleasant. The best she could do was to take notes for the Database, which she could finally talk to again. Slowly. Doc had rigged up inductors to transmit visual signals that her speed mind could sense. They could give her low res video if she slowed down to near human speed, but for anything faster she was limited to text. She was already used to virtual typing, and there were more inductors to pick that up. The biggest problem was lag--if she typed too fast, she had to wait and watch characters slowly appear to catch typos. She was watching slowly updating video stills of Doc as a background while they talked by text. It was way better than nothing. "... too many versions of the 'alien invasion' story out," sent Doc. "It wasn't worth trying to correct them. The Volunteer kept his press brief honest but short and vague--he mentioned non-hostile non-humans who were injured but would recover, he just didn't say they were whales--and then flew off before anyone could ask him any more questions." "Okay," sent Flicker. "Can we go back a bit? No immediate crisis is good. But I'm still missing a lot. It's making my mind itch. More. It's itching for other reasons, too, but this you can help fix." "No problem. What first?" "What was the bit with Breakpoint? He wasn't trying to warn you or me?" "No. I got a notification just as you started your final run. The warning was for Journeyman, he listened, and the danger passed." "More details, please? Did you forward the warning?" "I didn't need to; Journeyman was standing beside him. That was one of the precautions I arranged before you left, and they were quite willing to help. Journeyman had his own detection setup coordinated with the Database, and they had the attack triangulated in a fraction of a second. ��And then Breakpoint got the danger sense spike, just before Journeyman wanted to port, which delayed them for a second." "A trap?" "Possibly. But I think a potential time loop was more likely." "Caused by what?" "I don't know." "Surely you have a theory?" "Lots. Theories are easy, distinguishing them is harder," sent Doc. "Too many parameters we don't know. But your trap did confirm the attack was based on some kind of foreknowledge--the timing was far too precise for any other explanation to make sense. Perhaps Journeyman and Breakpoint would have caught the attacker, triggering a loop. Or killed it, with the same result. Or they did get caught in a loop and broke out." "How would that even work?" "Several possible ways. Time loop theories are hard to falsify. But after it was safe, they ported in and swept the arrival location for clues. The attacker apparently came from and returned to the Topaz Realm, a common intermediate stop for interdimensional travelers who wish to evade pursuit or tracking. The two of them declined to pursue further, and returned unhurt, though rather drained from the double port. Journeyman went to ground quote 'somewhere safe' unquote, and Breakpoint is with Jumping Spider. I'm sure we'll get additional details later, but the attacker was almost certainly an extradimensional being who portaled in specifically to try to assassinate you, with implications of harm to the entire planet." "And got away. Whee." "An overt repeat attempt seems unlikely. This was a clear worldwide threat, in a way Hermes was not, and now there is a specific event to track from. The compatible world probability background has shifted by quite a bit. There are a wide variety of entities with extraordinary perceptions and abilities that are now aware of the attacker and united in the desire for Earth to keep existing, if little else. The Database has been getting messages from all over the world. Hideki told me he already had to gently dissuade a group of young Japanese superhumans from charging off on an interdimensional mission of vengeance. They vividly recall your help during the quake, and feel inclined to track down whoever tried to kill you given the slightest opportunity. I was also asked to convey their wishes for your speedy recovery." "That's..." Some emotional thing. But Flicker didn't have a working human brain to feel it, and her emulator wasn't up to the task. "...nice." She sent a note to the Database to relay a socially safe thank you. Her mind still itched. "Okay," she sent. "Thanks for the summary. Now... I have a problem. Your UI works--I can talk to you and the Database. And if the exchanger were going to be done in a couple of hours, that would be enough. But it's going to take longer. I can tolerate the physical part--but I'm not so sure about the psychological. Sensory dep, and I have to keep shifting what I'm doing to maintain concentration. I've been recording the more organized parts of my raw impressions and alerts into the Database. But it's as tedious as hand-typing an endless stream of hex codes. That's making my attention wander. I've lost my spot a couple of times already and had to pattern match to find it again. I hate to complain, but is there anything better you can manage?" A pause, and the background picture updated to show Doc with his hands clasped in front of his face, looking somber. Then he started typing again. "I've been fabbing something that may help. I'll let you know when it's ready." The rhythm of the isotope exchanger changed slightly, the ion beams stopped, and the discomfort eased a little. A message from the Database appeared: "First pass complete, left leg." "Well," sent Doc. "Ready to start lowering the tritium load in the bone marrow of your other leg?" "Yes. But it doesn't really matter," she sent back. "It's the next thing. We need to get as much as we can done while I keep my chemistry clamped down or I don't get a livable body back." "Yes. We may be able to speed up later. But at least it's working." "Yeah..." ***** Tedious hours passed. Then there was a pause and shift, while radiation-hardened robots installed a new set of inductors for her head, along with an elaborate set of shielding, wiring and cooling pipes. Flicker took an all too brief run around Doc's test range. Even though she was still blind and deaf, the flow of air and the sudden bright crispness of her mass sense made it a welcome break. But she made a little of that air radioactive--she was still giving off too many neutrons--so it would have been indulgence to stay outside the force fields for more than a millisecond or two. Then tests and adjustments. Fiddly and annoying, but Doc was determined not to set off an immune reaction from Flicker's high speed nervous system, and DASI concurred with the need for caution. Another shift... And a world turned on. A better interface, through a virtual body representation. Audio, distorted but functional. Video. And faster text and data when Flicker sped up. The grinding background of confinement, restlessness and inability to fully relax was still there. As was the discomfort from the isotope exchanger. But her sensory deprivation was greatly reduced. It worked. There was one rather jarring issue. "I feel this sense of cosmic dread," she said. "Like I'm on the edge of a precipice to dimensions I can't even see, and might at any moment slip and lose my connection to sanity, or drag anything and everything I care about into the abyss." "Good," said Doc. "Sounds like your alarm systems are appropriately compatible." The wide video window showing his image floated in front of her. The darkness around the edges was still flecked with the writhing static of closed-eye hallucinations, but they were less intrusive. "Good? It's not exactly--" She blinked and suddenly everything was gone, then the old interface returned--text and a fixed picture. And the static everywhere else. She sped up. "DASI?" she sent. "What happened?" "You blinked for too long, and the interface interpreted it as a user shutdown request. I can adjust that, but the safety shutdown thresholds are necessarily quite stringent. One moment." Another blink and Doc was back, eyebrow raised. Half a second had passed. "--fun," she finished. "Fun was not a design goal," said Doc. "This is a high performance multi-sense cybernetic interface. It's not remotely safe. The basic sensory relays I started you with were already as high-bandwidth as I could manage safely. But they weren't enough. I don't know how to make a full cybernetic interface that's comfortable but not psychologically addictive. I keep the controller in the vaults for a reason. I fabbed spare inductors. They'll probably break frequently. And shut down for other reasons. Don't get attached to the interface. I wouldn't even consider using it if your biological brain was functional. I put together a list of other ways it's dangerous. It's just not as dangerous as risking sensory deprivation for what might be days." "Okay. But if you think the alarm system for my high speed mind is compatible with a cybernetic interface... Don't I already have one?" Doc looked down, then back up. "Possibly. But you'll want to be careful how you conceptualize that. Because right now, if your body has a cybernetic interface, you might be that interface. So it's not a good time to shift your self image." "Yeah, yeah, because my flesh body is dead," said Flicker. "I get it. My internal conceptualization has been pretty consistent. Messed up, but consistent. It's like a meat demon with a little metal bug on the forehead. High speed mind is the bug. And only the demon is dead. The bug is mostly worried about staying sane and connected. And I've got the connected part now, but sane requires something to do. I can't move while the exchanger is working, can't put things in long-term memory, and my emotion emulation is bad, so my options are limited." Doc put a hand on his chin and looked back at her image in the video window. "Could definitely be worse. You'll want to test the interface at speed. DASI will keep monitoring. Perhaps we can tune down the doom response a bit. And Armadillo will be here in a little while. She's rather better at cheering people up than I am. I'm sure she'll be happy to talk about whatever you want." "Might help a little. But I'm not sure talking will be enough. Sec." Flicker sped up. The interface speed lagged noticeably and the temperature of the inductors rose. The temperature in her brain would have gone up too, if she hadn't already been entropy dumping to get rid of the heat from radioactive decay and the isotope exchanger. She skimmed the hazard list. Doc hadn't been exaggerating. And the full interface would not be able to keep up with her mind if she sped up all the way. The problem was cooling, which was the usual problem that stopped Doc after he'd solved everything else. So. Use restraint. Don't push it all the way to the limit, and it would break less frequently. She adjusted some preferences with DASI's help, so the interface would gradually degrade to monochrome text and virtual typing input at higher speeds. That would give her fast responsiveness as well as the increased sensory feedback she needed when she slowed back down. A few tests verified it worked. At DASI's suggestion, she tried taking notes at speed with the better interface as a direct substitute for long term memory. A slower and more structured version of the memory dumps she did before sleeping when her memory was overleveraged and she couldn't stuff everything into squishy brain in time. With the memory dumps, she could put keys into her squishy brain to connect by reference--but not with everything locked down. More tests. The notes were accurate on rereading, though seemed kind of passive-aggressively gloomy. Upon reflection, she decided that was accurate as well. What to do? The data from Speedtest was recorded. Talking was... talk. Little point in reading or trying to learn. Introspection could become a problem fast--her mood was already pretty dark. But she couldn't get renewal from physical rest, so she was going to slowly go squirrelly from lack of sleep and contact with squishy brain. And she already felt the kind of frustrated dissatisfaction that she usually handled by going on patrol. Then she might still end up frustrated, but at least she'd saved lives. Now she couldn't even do that. She wasn't helpless. She still had a net connection, her database node, and assorted bots, both physical and virtual. But what was safe to try? She slowed back down. "Interface works," she said. "But the doom abyss is getting old real fast." Doc was studying his own display intently. He tapped out something on his keyboard then looked up. "How's that?" The tension eased somewhat. "Better," she said. "Less cosmic dread, more dangerous machinery in operation alert. I can live with that. But I could really use something to do." He shook his head ruefully. "I understand. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is nothing. But you have a very good chance of surviving your bit of existential roulette if you can manage to keep yourself together and stationary long enough for the exchanger to do its work." She frowned. "Is that what you call the kind of trap I set? I thought you said we're safe now." "No, I said further direct attacks were unlikely. Whether that's because they wouldn't succeed or aren't necessary is still open. We can't be reasonably certain until the next time you sleep, then wake up functional and something approximating sane." "That's disturbing." "Yes. But what's done is done." "So you don't think trying it was a good idea?" "I'm reserving judgement. And if you were going to try, the Moon was a better place than Earth. You minimized direct collateral damage. However..." A crooked grin. "Now probably isn't the best time for critical analysis. Survival and data recording were the right priorities once you made it back. We can hash out details later." "Yeah, but it does give me something to focus on, which I need. I think that finally getting to go fast was so wonderful, so freeing, that I got overconfident." Doc studied her image for a moment. "Based on my preliminary analysis of the Database summaries, I think you may be underestimating another effect. I can explain, if you think it will help." "Well, yeah." "When you left the earth's atmosphere, you were hit with mental changes and a flood of alarms and activations on top of your acrophobia. Which you coped with very well. I think your caution, careful safety compartmentalization, and lockdown checking were absolutely correct and optimal reactions. Having a previously unknown part of your mind wake up and suggest you mess with Planck's constant locally? That would have terrified me. But you handled it." Doc waved a hand. "That was a way more drastic reaction than I expected, and means I need to rework a lot of my theories. Anyway, you took care of everything, and landed safely. You jumped to the Moon. Your landing message sounded like you were euphoric." "I was." "And your fear went away. You had mass again, the alarms stopped, and you were finally getting to run Speedtest. Of course you were feeling great. And I made a mistake. Before you started your final run, I suggested you go as fast as you felt safe. I didn't include a stronger warning because I didn't want to interfere with your joy. But I knew. I know that feeling, it's Now I Am Invincible, it's incredibly dangerous for a superhero, and I knew the way you usually keep it in check is your care for all the people and other living things on Earth, and there was nothing living on the Moon except you." He looked down. "I should have warned you. I didn't. I'm sorry." "Doc, no," said Flicker. "I'd have done it anyway. Nobody died. I got the data. And whoever or whatever that was, we needed to know about them, and now we do. I'm going to keep going." She bared her teeth. "Even when I can't move for a while." Doc kept looking down for a moment, then wiped his eyes and looked back up. "Yeah. On that note, it's time to move the exchanger focus again, and Armadillo is here. Shall I invite her in?" "Sure. And thank you for--" She waved the hand of her virtual body. "This, and the list of reasons why it's dangerous. Both. They both help." The crooked smile was back. "I do what I can manage."

Next: Part 11

#FallofDocFuture #FallMisc

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kryptsune · 5 years ago

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🌼Good morning! Happy Tuesday! I wanted to share the second part of this Fellfdritch drabble. It is kind of a side thing I have been just enjoying. I am still unsure if this is going to be exactly how this story is going to go but it’s a general idea. If it becomes a proper fic then I will elaborate more. Hope you enjoy it C: Tell me what you think and if you would like to see more.

PART 1 <-- The Madhouse

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION IT IS NOT FOR YOUR USE. IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG INSTEAD! It helps me so much! It makes such a difference.💙If you want more of these just let me know! It’s the only way I can gauge interest!

FELLDRITCH DRABBLE {2/3}: OFF

Frisk’s eyes remained closed feeling that familiar bed of flowers that had caught her fall. She never questioned why her body did not lay broken amongst the flora. A little sore, but that was all. How far was the fall? That detail didn’t matter. Instead, she rose from her place, eyes fluttering open to stare at the flood of light that encased her. Nothing had changed from before. She knew, however, that she would be alone in her trek to Snowdin.

The bruises she sustained were nothing compared to the horrors of the place of her escape. They were almost non-existent. Her feet were a little sore, but that was from running at such a fast pace to get here. A soft sigh of relief passed her lips, followed by a small smile, “Welcome home Frisk,” she replied softly as if in a dream. She was finally free. Home. Safe.

The Ruins were just a series of black stone walls mortared with ashen grey cement. It felt cold and uninviting as various vines weaved through the walls like veins. All leading to a dying heart. They threaded through cracks and alcoves, taking over what was left of what lay before. There seemed to not be a soul among the ruins. There may have been once, but all she could see was the twisting catacombs of puzzles and traps that she remembered.

They stretched forever, all with varying shades of obsidian. Some were easy enough to solve and others were more trial and error. It was nice to see that the spike puzzle that Toriel had kindly escorted her through was still deactivated. This place felt like darkness and ice had formed. It was not warm before, but now as she made her way through empty hallways and barren rooms, she realized how stifling the air was. How her skin was bitten by the bitter cold. How the darkness never seemed to end, but she was almost there.

There had to be at least one living soul around here, just one. She would settle for a Froggit or a Vegitoid. Anything to break the grave silence this place was suffocated by. Not a soul. Not a sound. It was unnerving. Even before there would have been the chatter of some of the shy monsters that lived in The Ruins. Now all she heard were her own footsteps eerily echoing through the halls one crunch at a time

… crunch ...crunch ...crunch…

Stop. The memories came flooding back, painting over the dismal landscape she was now forcing herself through. A chill unlike anything she had ever felt in her life shot up her spine, freezing over her bones and skin. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her. That creepy feeling, as though she was being watched, was settling into her soul. In her mind's eye, she almost could see the scraggly shadow limbs reaching for her. A corridor infested with pitch-black as sketchy eyes filled the darkness.

She whirled around, expecting to see the horror of her imagination, but what lay beyond was simply the path which she had come from. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Her mind was messing with her, of course. Being in an asylum for over seven years would do that to a person. It would cause them to begin to question what was really going on around them. How does one even begin to justify all she had seen? All of it was completely outside the realm of anything normal. The very idea that monsters were real and trapped by some kind of ancient magic was difficult enough to believe. That she was their friend and part of their family even more so.

Frisk shook her head from side to side in an effort to clear her mind as she continued forward. She was now close enough to reach the room where she first learned of monster candy and spider bake sales. Maybe she could get a donut from one of Muffet’s little stands. The spiders had been so helpful before.

Thinking she may be able to get a spider-themed treat, she made her way toward the doorway she remembered. It was all so clear. Dr. Ruttledge was as crazy as his patients if such vivid memories were nothing more than flights of fantasy. Her breath could be seen as she huffed in annoyance just thinking about the man. Monsters were real. She was living proof as she stood there checking her surroundings.

She had to wonder if any of the lesser monsters would remember her. Maybe they were no longer in The Ruins after she had gone through the entire Underworld. There was no reason they had to live cowering amongst the rubble any longer. A life of fear and refuge. When she had made it to the end her foster father, King Asgore, promised her that much.

Her eyes scanned the area only to stop before the doorway. At first she thought it was just dark, but instead, she was greeted by a blockage of rubble. It must have happened long ago as the vines continued to wrap and invade whatever places they could. The large column of some unknown puzzle lay broken in pieces at her feet.

But why did that matter?

Dainty fingers brushed over the stone gingerly. What had happened? All she could think of was that these ruins were truly abandoned now unlike before, “I guess no spider bake sale for me…” Why was everything like this? Why did this place feel so cold and lifeless? The sooner she made it to Snowdin the better.

Just as her hand slipped from the stone a soft scraping of something caught her attention. It was growing closer, only to stop. At first, the noise just reverberated off the stone walls but then it became frantic. It grew in violent intensity before it once again fell silent.

It was coming from one of the corners.

Her only choice of action would be to run, but what was the point? The monsters here wouldn’t hurt her. Would they? Her voice slipped from her mouth in a whisper at first. Only growing in volume so that it could be heard properly, “Hello? Who's there?” Cautiously she removed herself from the wall, slipping into the adjacent hall. In one of the corners, she could just make out a small shape as it wiggled in the darkness.

Its body was scrunched against the ebony brick as if it was trying to hide in such an open space. The dull grey sheet of a body shone within the darkness, its long black feelers twitching periodically. Its wings were tucked away, fluttering only when she moved closer.

It was a monster she remembered quite clearly. A whimsun. They had always been timid, shy little creatures that would make soft whimpering sounds; it was as if they thought you were going to kick them. The closer she drew to the creature the more things she noticed. The lower corner of its once shimmering wings was clawed. A feeler was broken, laying limply and causing it to be 'L' shaped. Parts of its back had been clawed at and were beginning to goop over. It looked like it was melting?

Its small body convulsed as if it were about to fall apart the moment it heard her voice.

The poor thing...

Once again she made her presence known in the most soothing voice she could muster, “Hello there. Are you alright?” She made no action to move closer as to not frighten the petrified monster. Sure, they had been scared before, but this felt like a whole new level of dread. A feeling that was slowly beginning to seep into her soul. Something was horribly off.

She knew them for their soft whimpering, but this one was eerily silent save for the fingers it was now desperately digging into the brick, tearing at it like a feral animal. Her voice made the reaction all the worse as it's fervor grew.

Scrape

"I won't hurt you I promise."

Scrape Scrape Scrape Scrape

The gaunt limbs of the bug-like creature tore desperately at its corner, creating that horrible scraping sound once more. It was the kind of sound one would react to on a visceral level as it dug into your ears gnawing at your skull. The kind that caused your stomach to nearly retch and ears to bleed. One might have compared it to digging your nails into the lid of a coffin. Once again, that feeling of dread bit into her soul. It slithered around her lungs, constricting what little breath she could muster. This was more than a feeling of dread.

Scrape Scrape Scrape Scrape Scrape

She reached for it, trying to calm it’s animalistic clawing, only for it to turn and stare at her. Every bone in her body froze, causing shudders of pure horror to shake her small frame. The whimsun could no longer make those soft noises as its mouth was grotesquely stitched shut with ruby thread. She couldn’t keep her hand from shakily landing on her mouth and her blue eyes swam with trepidation. It was a monstrous sight.

Her legs quaked as she took shaky steps back using the walls as support. Her body slumped against it, just staring aghast. She could feel the rough brick against her pale flesh and forced her eyes to close. That scraping began again, clawing at her skull like someone using a spoon against the stone. Over and over and over again. It was maddening.

Heart pounding and limbs shaking, she fled the place as quickly as she could. Toriel’s old home was not that far away from where she was. No time to think. No time to act. All she wanted to do was escape. 'She needed to get out', she thought, running down the halls stumbling amidst broken columns and dust. She didn’t bother to take in her surroundings and she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

When she was a fair distance away from the horrifying scene that she had been subjected to, she paused, turning to look behind her. The darkness spilled from the corners, shrouding the hallways beyond in a sinister tarry cloak. Wait. It… it was slowly devouring where she had come from. Moving. Writhing. Squirming. A tarry goop like substance and its pace was increasing.

What in stars…?

From the ceilings it began to rain down in thick black globs, landing just in front of her. It seeped through the walls, forming clawed limbs and crimson eyes. It was everywhere. In a panic, she ran. Her chest was starting to burn with every labored breath; every passing moment her legs throbbed. All she could do was try to make it to Toriel's. It was but a feeling. She would be safe there.

It tore through the silence like a knife. An ear-splitting, howling, squishing, hissing, thundering, crackling, rasping, guttural abomination of a shriek. She could picture a tongue lolling from a cursed mouth as it made chase. A creature, unlike anything she had ever encountered. A darkness willing to swallow her whole. It’s unholy screeches and crackled gibberish forced her legs into submission without abandon.

Everything was skewed. Even her vision was beginning to warp ruined doorways and random leaves. All she could hear was her heart thundering in her eardrums. She didn’t want it to catch her. The scenery passed by, conjuring demons from another realm. The realm of her mind. This creature chasing her made the room grow darker, forcing true monsters from their crypts. She had not been blessed with night vision. Shadowy hands tried to veil her eyes, creeping closer to blind her. Soon everything would go black.

Her tears streamed down her cheeks, flying into the air. Just before the veil of darkness fell she collapsed into the door of Toriel’s home, slamming it and hearing the wood splinter. She could barely feel her legs or her lungs. Everything was on fire as she dropped to the ground. The beast was silent until it’s mass beat against the frame screeching in ungodly rage. Her fatigued body rested against the door as her soft cries mixed with its masticated words. Surely it couldn’t speak, but she knew it was.

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͊̓̄̾̉ͫͪ

ͧ̃͑O̵͂̋̄͆ͦuYͫ̚͟ ̎r̷Ũͬ̽̂̈ͦẼ̂r̃̋̉̌̇̚nͬͪ͝T

̔͗̈ͤ͗ͭ

͆͘Ē͋ͥ̇Ẽ̛͆ͥ͂š̽̎ͧ

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͆͛͑̄͊͂̅̀E̛͗̈́͊Rͦ̿̓̍̅͒̚A̅͒̆̽̑̽͢hͦ̿̐̑́

ͣ̇̑̈́̔̂

ͥͯ̋͑̈S̆̀K̋̽ͭe̷̒̓́̒a͂̾͌̀̔p̈͂͒̀̏͏

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̧̐̉̏͛́̔̚E͌̒̀iͧl̛ͣ̊̅̈́̈́̚V̷ͫͯͮ̚

It was right next to her ear, whispering its guttural broken tongue in huffing rasps and then. It was gone. Frisk couldn’t even breathe as she lay there helpless with her back pressed against the frigid wood. Was she safe? All she wanted to do was sit here to calm her shaking. Her eyes fell to her shivering hands. She was unable to hold them still. The feeling of being watched never left her. When her eyes slid closed she saw that symbol one again in the darkness appearing like a mist. It glowed a deep crimson like that of freshly spilled blood.

A giant. All-seeing. Eye.

Soft sobs added to her hyperventilating as her red orbs flew open. The vision was gone but the symbol was not. Shakily she rose to her feet hearing her own struggles as her hand gripped the frame for support. A few moments of quiet breathing would calm her. In and out. In and out. It was all she could do to repeat those words over and over till she was able to see, to hear, to speak clearly. She had made it to Toriel's. The first step in her journey was over. It would not be long now before she would welcome that frosted air. Those seas of deep cherry wood.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, only adding to her disheveled look. Her hands were still shaking from the whole ordeal as she cupped them within one another to step further into the room. It was just as she remembered it. Not a single speck of dust. Not a frame or carpet out of place. She couldn’t stay, she already knew that, but maybe in her old room, she would find something more suitable to wear.

Her hand reached for the golden knob, pushing the door open with a soft creak of its hinges. She rummaged through various drawers to find something more fitting. A simple black shirt and a pair of pants. She even found a white zip-up hoodie among her old things, and she was grateful that Toriel kept them. Her promise held that much value to them. She would return to help them, terrifying goop beasts aside. Where had that thing come from anyway, and why did it want her head?

She reveled in the black hoodie fluff for a moment before heading back into the hall. It was normal. Clean. Pretty and warm. Everything she remembered was here. Safe and in its proper place, but it was time to go. Soon she would truly be with her family. She could picture the scene as she strode toward the landing. A small smile painted on her lips feeling a warm spark within her soul. Home. That’s all she wanted. She wanted to be with them.

The lights flickered suddenly, casting sinister dancing shadows on the walls stretching upward to consume the space. No. She did not want to be left alone in the dark, and she was so fatigued from before. She just could not seem to get a break as she made her way forward. The lights went out, leaving her in stifling darkness. Her only sense was hearing and she slid her hands over the walls to keep her bearings.

The ringing rattled her brain and an explosion of wood and glass reached her ears. Another hissing howl tore through the silence, breaking everything in its path. At first, it was in front of her, and she could hear the wooden planks groan in protest under the creature's weight. A vase shattered as if it had been thrown violently against the wall. She did not know what was causing all of this. All she could do was listen. It mangled the room, tearing into carpets with sickening rips.

A soft warm puff of air tickled her cheek. A breath. A huff. The rumble that reverberated from its chest rose and fell. She only prayed it wouldn’t cause her to lose the one sense she still had. It's lumbering form moved past her in the dark, but she could hear that disgusting squelch and dripping of saliva right beside her. Then the lights returned. Nothing was there.

The once pristine home was ransacked and its walls were covered in claw marks. Shelves hung precariously from a single nail. Vases were shattered and strewn about the floor. Broken glass. Dead plants. This place was not pristine. It was in shambles. All the signs of decay infected the place. The vines had started to curl around the banister to the lower floor. The same one she was now making her way toward. That is until she looked up.

The roof had caved in, exposing the rotting bones of the structure as it spilled more debris from high above. It landed on top of her now, dust gathering in her hair, but that was not what had her attention. No. It was the horrifying image that lay painted on the wall of the main foyer. The symbol in her vision.

It dripped down the wall freshly painted in blood red. The monsters did not bleed, so where did it come from? The image of an eye with its pupil crossed out. It was framed by a half-circle with spires jutting out along the line. Just below the symbol were words she could just understand. Very simplistic depictions of a mouth, an eye, and an ear. The way it was sketchily painted made her shiver.

No more. She had to leave this place.

Get out.

Those were her thoughts but they did not come from her lips. A whispering, crackly, and breathy voice echoed it as she descended the steps. It only grew more frequent the closer she drew to the door. The door that represented her freedom now even more than before.

GET OUT

The same unnerving symbol greeted her, sloppily painted where the Delta Rune used to rest in all its metallic glory. She remembered how beautiful and intricate metalwork was as it wove in and out of itself. It had been crafted with care. Now all that was left were the two empty recesses where it once proudly lay, replaced by something she knew nothing of. Had so much changed in less than a decade? Had it really been the amount of time she was told?

GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT.

Her hand rested on the door only to hear the voice again, but it began to pierce her ears as it rose in volume and intensity, forcing her to cover her ears. The ringing. The screaming. The distorted voices and whispers. It hurt. She felt as though her head would explode from the inside out, “No… stop… please.” A pathetic whimper followed by her cries filled the room. In a panic and frenzy, she clawed at the door forcing it open, “STOP! PLEASE STOP!”

GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT.

She shoved her way through those deep purple double doors and just before they fell closed the screaming stopped. Only a soft whisper remained.

listen

It slammed shut behind her, sealing away what she felt the monsters had been trying to keep inside. The beast that had been stalking her. She leaned against the door panting and doubling over to regain her breath. All was silent. A palette of frosty blues, whites, and deep cherry spanned her vision. Snowdin Forest. Tired eyes fluttered closed as she panted feeling that familiar burn of ice within her lungs. She could just smell the crisp evergreens, the fresh snow, and earth.

Snowdin was her hope. She placed a hand over her chest finally ready to once again continue her journey home. The soft crunch of snow under her shoes was inviting and though she was not well dressed for the weather, it was the kind of cold to which she had once grown accustomed. She was sure Boss would warm her up with some of his cooking. A hot meal on a cold day.

The trees felt neverending, stretching high above her. If one looked up it could have made them dizzy. She was just lost in the environment. The dark bark of the trees were such a stark contrast from the pure white of the snow that lay at their feet. Their strange carmine leaves were scattered here and there. It was truly a unique place.

Her attention stayed on the winding path ahead. She knew Sans's sentry station would be up ahead, but There was no rest. Its crack rang into the open air. The snap of a branch. Something was watching her. She didn’t have the energy to run. Her exhaustion was too great. The combination of running and mental terror. All the things she had seen. It was all unbelievable. Grotesque. Horrifying. It was all wrong. So horribly wrong.

It shook her soul to its core, and she ended up at a dead end. All she could do was stare up at the wooden barrier, placing her hands weakly on the wood. She could hear something scuffling toward her. Her heart once again beat harder than it should, nearly lodging in her throat. Helpless. That was how she felt as she turned to face the beast, eyes screwed shut and unable to keep the tears from her cheeks.

Even back then she had never felt this level of fear. It had been hard, but never did she fear for her life at such an intensity. Her lips quivered as its shadow fell over her. She felt like a cornered animal. One that had no means to defend itself. An easy kill, “Please… I don’t know what happened here. Please…” A pathetic plea was choked by her soft cries.

Its hand fell on her, pulling her from the wooden barrier she had been backed into. She could picture it tearing her throat out and ripping her to shreds. How her blood would stain the snow a deep red. What would be left of her would decorate the snow like a sick ornament.

Her eyes reluctantly forced themselves open. The creature towered over her with a skeletal mouth gaping open showing off sets of sharp, flesh-eating teeth. Its eyes were lifeless black pits and two sets of bark-like antlers protruded from its skull. That same symbol she had seen on the door sat at the crest of its skull along with a pentagram etched into the bone. It’s long billowing robes just fluttered in the wind and its face was framed by deep charcoal fluff. A single ruby thread appeared to glow where it had been used around the jaw and antlers.

All she could do was force her eyes closed once more as her body grew cold. Its shadow was sucking all the warmth from her body as she shook her head. She was desperate. Her desire was to return, but now she may not even see them ever again. The tears that stained her cheeks left icy trails on her porcelain skin. Please. Her lungs burned and she was unable to speak; it felt like acid had been poured down her throat to spread like poison throughout her body.

The voice that broke the silence was not her own.

“Frisk?”

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inkspottie · 6 years ago

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Siren’s Serenade

Another drabbly by yours truly! Background for this, since its a bit hard to read three henry’s we gave every Henry a little nickname so it’ll be easier for you all. And us as well lol when reading this @doberart‘s Henry will be Ross, @trashboatprince‘s Henry is Delta and mine is just Henry. Just a little clarification for ya’ll

Shall we?

Alice Angel was something else, the woman had spoken to them through the audio system with a deep suave voice. They needed to get through a door, since Ross’ wife was somewhere deeper in Rapture Studio and the only way was through this damn door. Which was conveniently locked.

But this Alice had a key, and all they needed to do was gather things for her. Simple. Easy. They made a good team, Ross, Henry and Delta. All conveniently named Henry but they decided to give each other nicknames so it was easier to deal with things.

They were just about finished with the final part, she wanted ink collected. Must be one of the druggies, but if it meant getting the damn door open then so be it. Bendy was a good locator for the said ink, calling them angels. Alice had given them a syringe to use instead of Bendy’s own.

Simple task, if it not were for the searchers and splicers coming out when the blood was in the water. Crawling like a moth to the flame, enemies from all around swarmed them.

Three of them with plasmids and weapons in their hands was good odds, since most of them were very weak since the Ink made them mad and completely insane. A simple smack or thrust of lightning would knock them out cold.

The final searcher fell to the ground and Henry panted, wiping his brow. The others seemed just as winded.

“Where’s Bendy?” Delta asks and Henry lifts his head turning around to search for the Little Devil.

“I thought he was with you?” Ross states and starts to search as well, seeing if the little creature was hiding. Bendy was a little trickster and loved to play hide and seek, but this was not exactly the time to play.

“Bendy? Bendy?” Delta shouted lifting up tables and searching vents. Henry could tell he was anxious, Delta was very protective of the little one. The taller man’s black eye was flickering from green to yellow in his anxiety.

“We’ll find him. He’s gotta be some—“ Henry stops when Ross makes a noise and he turns to see inky footprints, boot prints.

Delta bends down and reaches to touch the substance rubbing it in between his fingers. “Bendy.” He confirms. He must’ve wandered off as they were fighting. Delta immediately gets up and rushes out of the room, with Henry and Ross in tow.

The larger man usually was much slower, the diving suit no doubt was extremely heavy and he wasn’t exactly the fastest of the group. But the worry on his face and the large strides meant business.

They stopped when realizing that this was Alice’s lair, she said that she would meet them there. Had Bendy already walked through here? The footprints stopped here and Delta slammed the door open.

“Bendy!” Delta shouts looking around. The room was grand and elegant, broken chandeliers and torn plush seats scattered the room. It looked like some sort of lounge where the rich came to party and mingle. Halos and wings were crudely drawn across the peeling wallpaper, the faint light of the chandeliers made the atmosphere very tense.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” A familiar voice crooned as a faint light shone above a balcony. Silhouetted in the light was a woman, her face covered in what looked like a cartoon mask, her hair tangled and ratty on one side, while the other was shaved close to her head. She wore a strange outfit, with leather belts and metal plates across her shoulders.

“Hello boys, your guardian angel has graced you.” She replies as she lifts something up in her hands. “Had I known you had this little treasure, I would of lead you here quicker.” In her clawed hand was a whimpering Bendy, quaking in fear.

“Bendy!” Delta roars his eye glowing red.

Alice chuckles deeply holding Bendy close to her hip, “Oh please you don’t scare me. After all, I know you all too well. A big hulking idiot that looks after these precious things. I used to believe they were sacred, until their ink granted me the life I needed. Perfect beautiful angel.” She breathes in sharply pulling her mask to the side.

“And with this,” she gestures to Bendy with a large grin, half of her face melted from the overexposure of Ink. “I’ll be perfect!” As she said that she stood on the railing, large wings unfurling before them. They were broken, battered. Bits of feathers flying, matted and burnt. Like a fallen angel. Her skeletal wings fluttered for a moment before they curled around her sides.

“Give him back you bitch.” Delta snarls and Alice continues to laugh.

“Empty threats, silly men. I know a little secret of yours. It’s very interesting, funny how words can take over a mind of someone. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words? Words cut you up and make you something else entirely. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry swallows thickly, looking at the two of him, his axe slightly shaking. Sometimes he would black out, not remember something and find himself sore or being hit by Delta. It’s happened before but he didn’t know how or why.

“What does she mean.” Ross asks as he raises his pistol at her.

Alice makes a look of shock, “Why you don’t know? Allow me to demonstrate. Henry, my dear. would you kindly destroy them?”

Like a flick of the switch Henry looks at her, his body trembling for a moment before turning his attention to them. His eyes a pure yellow, slightly pulsating as he clenched his hand the Angel’s Grace plasmid brightens.

“Henry, Henry no. You can fight it! Damn it!” Delta shouts as Henry takes a swing at Delta, missing by a mere inch. “Snap out of it!”

“What’s happening?!” Ross asks as he rolls out of the way of Henry’s large beam of light, burning a complete hole in the couch behind them.

Delta turns to Ross and then back to Henry seeing the pure look of malice on the man’s face. “He’s being controlled by that bitch!” He decides to throw a couple splatters of his plasmid Ink Spots, causing the little ink demons to attach themselves to Henry’s legs to try and stop him. “We can’t kill him!”

“I know that!” Ross snaps, “There a way to stop this?”

“Yes yes fight amongst yourselves!” She reaches for the cage that was hanging beside her and throws Bendy. “What’s better than a dinner and a show.”

“Stop it please!” Bendy cries and Alice laughs loudly shaking the cage.

“Don’t worry, one of them is bound to die anyways. You’ll have two dads instead of three. Not too bad of a deal, that is until I drain you dry.” She croons curling her clawed fingers under his chin.

“Knock him out!” Delta shouts as Henry uses his fire plasmid to burn the ink off him, his arm burning as he tosses a fireball at them. Delta blows it away with his wind plasmid snuffing it out before it hit him.

Henry is coming at them with unbridled rage, his eyes glowing bright as the fire burns up his arm, not catching on his clothes. He chucks another fireball at Delta who ducks, feeling the heat of the flame pass him by.

“At least he’s not using his weapon with his plasmid!” Ross shouts as Henry burns the side of a couch trying to hit him.

The sweater clad man stops for a second a with a swift motion the axe catches a flame and Delta lets out a string of curses.

“You just had to say that!” He shouts to Ross as he attempts to kick the enraged Henry away watching out for the burning blade of the axe. “By this rate we’re gonna have this place catch fire!”

Ross pauses as Henry focuses on Delta, “Okay I got an idea. Since Ink Spots won’t hold you don’t how about a little gravity!” He clenches his free hand activating the plasmid. Bright copper armor quickly attaches to Ross like a make-shift gauntlet, steam rising from the metal. He makes a motion and the air changes as gravity starts to fluctuate. Henry is suddenly lifted into the air floating a bit so he wouldn’t be swinging that axe.

“Okay I got him!” Ross shouts as he holds Henry steady with his plasmid. “Now what?!”

“Hold him there! I think I got an idea.” Delta watches the squirming Henry, the fire extinguishing from the axe. His hand is still lit but it suddenly changes, ice begins to crawl up his hand, icicles forming as it does so. Henry turns his gaze to Ross and fires a blast.

The man had to stay still to keep Henry up in the air, so the ice hits him right in the chest. Ross stumbles and ice begins to crawl up his chest and freeze him on the spot.

“That’s it Henry finish them!” Alice calls out as Henry lands on his feet coming for Delta.

Delta sees the frozen body of Ross and snarls his eye turning a deep red. “That’s it, c’mere you!” He shouts running at Henry with such speed the man isn’t able to dodge it. Delta picks up the smaller Henry and holds him tightly, using his bulky suit to choke him out.

“I didn’t want to do this but you leave me no choice! It’s time for a little nap!” Henry struggles under the grip, snarling like a wild animal but Delta is stronger gripping and crushing Henry. In a few moments Henry’s actions get sluggish and slower until Henry finally drops, passing out in Delta’s arms.

“There.” Delta says placing the man down on the ground. The ice begins to crack and Ross breaks through giving out a shudder.

“Christ that’s cold!” He mutters rubbing his arms as he wipes away a bit of snow on him. “You got him?” He looks to Delta and then to the fallen Henry.

“Down for the count. Now it’s the bitch’s turn.” Delta spits as he looks up to the balcony to find that she wasn’t there. Bendy was trapped in a cage shaking like a leaf his tail curled against his body as he watched it all happen.

“How dare you?! Come in here and ruin my fun! You want to take my perfection away? Fine, we can play.” Alice swoops down to the floor, a sword in hand, withered wings flapping in her frustration. Her face is melting away, the yellow eye clouded with insanity while the other dripped with ink.

“I’M ALICE ANGEL AND YOU WILL DI-“ She doesn’t finish her sentence as a figure fast as lightning appears before her, stabbing her straight through the middle. She chokes in surprise, looking down at the sword and then to her killer. “I always knew you were a bitch.” She sputters as ink falls from her mouth, the sword pulling out of her and she falls to the floor motionless.

“The same for you.” The killer states, it’s a woman, her hair tied up in a tight ponytail and covered in leather much like Alice was. On her back was a sort of metal basket of sorts, and inside was Bendy.

“As for you, I have some words for you. Leaving him up there like that, how dare you.” The woman says coming up to Delta and gave him a very hard slap to the cheek.

Delta pulls back in surprise blinking rapidly, “Woah! Who even are you?” He asks narrowing his eyes.

“I’m Allison, Bendy’s Sister Angel.”

#boom there you go #i did try to find all the mistakes #but if theyre is some forgive me #but yeah!#Alice Angel is definitely batshit insane #and here come's allison to the rescue #poor henry #all of them tbh #henry batim #BioShock crossover #spottie writes

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babsconsf · 7 years ago

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It’s Animation Domination as BABSCon Welcomes its First Community Guests of 2018: Minty Root, Toucan LDM, Lightning Bliss and Yaasho!

It’s the holiday season and we’re spreading the joy as we welcome our first community guests for BABSCon 2018!

First, you know him as the animator of many great works including Luna’s Determination, the Project Thundercloud series, The Return of Queen Quake (which is totally the best one, though we could be biased), Good Morning Baltimare, and many, many more: Minty Root will be making his return at BABSCon next year.

What would happen if Batman, Elsa, Sailor Moon, every other series under Celestia’s sun met MLP? ToucanLDM is answering that question, and he’ll be attending as our second community guest!

Next up is our first animator from the analysis community. Animator of several works such as Bronies Stamp the Ground as well as many a review, you may know her as the TF2 Analysis Anarchy's Head Editor and Blue Team Heavy, and we’re pleased to welcome the rainbow-colored analysis alicorn herself: Lightening Bliss!

Finally we have our first SFM animator of 2018, who’s most famous works include Lone Digger (in which Octavia and Vinyl pull off the most bad-flank bank heist in Equestrian history) as well as contributions to fandom projects such as the popular Doors and Doors 2, self-professed lover of beef jerky: Shaun Purvis!

Check out their respective bios below, as they were provided to us:

Minty Root:

Minty Root is a Canadian fan animator, known for his work on Luna's Determination, Good Morning Baltimare and many more animated projects.

He's interested in cinematic storytelling, dramatic lighting and ambiance, but also cute little ponies.

ToucanLDM:

I’m known as the creator of the My Little Pony meets series on Youtube. Some of my most notable works include Batman, Spider-Man, Rapunzel, Elsa and Sailor Moon meets MLP!

Lightning Bliss:

Meet Lightning Bliss, the spunky, tiny, rainbow alicorn of the Brony Analysis Community, proud member of the Secret Rift Cafe as well as the Blue Team's "Heavy" and Lead Editor for Josh Scorcher's and DRWolf's TF2: Analysis Anarchy Series! When she's not reviewing or training on the battlefield, she's learning how to control her magic, work on her artwork and animation, or is up to silly shenanigans with her friends amongst the Brony Community! With her pet and guard dog Twink the rainbow monster watching over her, Lightning Bliss takes on the world, exploring new conventions and making new friends and meeting her fans! So keep an eye out for her, she would love to meet you all, but don’t call her cute! If you do! You risk getting zapped with

Shaun Purvis:

I'm an amateur Source Filmmaker (SFM) animator with roughly 3 years of experience who loves animating ponies! It's one of my favorite hobbies next to playing World of Warcraft (For the Horde!). Coffee and beef jerky are two addictions of mine. Someday, I hope to travel across Europe.

#brony #MLP #MLP:FiM #convention #announcement #news #community guests #community

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jackcarson-foxfutureworks · 7 years ago

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MY TOP TEN MOST ANTICIPATED GAMES

I really like talking about games.

I think that's all the reason I need to tell you about the upcoming games I'm most excited about.

The games on this list don't have to be launching next year, hell, they could launch next week and still make it on and since this isn't the usual one game article, I'll be briefly covering each game as to avoid a super long piece.

Also look out for "My Top Ten Games of 2017" and the interestingly named "The Top Ten Games I Played in 2017", both of which should be popping up towards the very end of December or January at the latest.

BEWARE OF MINOR SPOILERS FOR RELATED GAMES

It would be unfair of me not to talk about Red Dead Redemption 2 on this list, but due to a lack of information and game footage ever since the first trailer dropped almost a year ago, I can only award it an honourable mention.

However, what I have seen looks breath-taking. The environments in the trailer are truly beautiful, ranging from starry forest nights to sunny open plains, it looks like Rockstar has nailed the aesthetic.

Elsewhere, there does seem to be some variation of The Magnificent Seven surrounding the characters, but that's as far as the plot goes so far. Hopefully, the announcement on the 28th of this month will shine more light on the matter.

Red Dead Redemption was a masterpiece. Fingers crossed the sequel follows suit.

Now, I know of exactly one person who is definitely going to be disappointed about my decision to put Monster Hunter: World in the 10th spot and no amount of reasoning will appease them.

I was introduced to the Monster Hunter franchise very late and although I've had fun with the two I've played (Freedom Unite and Generations), there's a couple of problems I personally find that hold it back.

For starters, despite playing plenty of games that involve grinding resources, I feel Monster Hunter goes that extra irritating length of not always giving you the materials you need. The combat at times is a little clunky and the slow animations that stop you from moving are god damn obnoxious, to say the least.

That said, I'm excited to see Monster Hunter make the leap to current-gen consoles as this has seemingly improved the clunky movement and unnecessary animations while adding a more seamless open world and deeper hunting mechanics.

Although Metro Exodus currently suffers from the same affliction as Red Dead Redemption 2, it prospers from two previous games that have set a well-established tone for the series and having played the redux versions quite recently, it's fresh on my mind.

I've felt Metro has always been a very under-appreciated series. Sure, the last two lacked the freedom of the Fallout or S.T.A.L.K.E.R games but it blended survival horror and action wonderfully while retaining a haunting post-apocalyptic atmosphere.

And while scampering across the massive wastelands of Washington or Boston is jolly good fun, sometimes it's okay to be confined in the more intimate tunnels of the metro and its soulful communities.

Despite all that, Exodus looks to be ditching the semi-linear tunnels for an open world approach, and while I'm itching to see more of the surface, I just hope it doesn't cause Metro to lose its claustrophobic charm.

I didn't own a PS3 when The Last of Us stormed onto the scene and so by the time I had the chance to play the remastered version on PS4 I already knew all there was to know about Joel and Ellie's equally heartwrenching and heartwarming journey.

Credit to Naughty Dog then that even when I'm ten steps ahead I'm still hit with a ton of emotional bricks. I'm a sucker for storytelling, so combine that with fantastic games and you've got yourself the formula to tingling all the right spots in me.

Just knowing that I'll once again be able to tag along with Joel and Ellie as they set off on a new adventure not only fills me with beaming delight but intense trepidation.

So, yeah...the Battlefront reboot didn't nearly live up to the expectations set by the 12-year-old Battlefront II, the question is can the sequel of the same name break the shadow that currently hangs over it?

I'm optimistic and considering what's been revealed so far, I might just be rewarded for it. Battlefront II is finally going to include all eras of Star Wars from planets to characters (Darth Maul is the coolest, hands down! Don't even fight me on this!) and a campaign mode which intriguingly focuses on an elite squad from the Empire.

I'm stating the obvious when I say I'm a big Star Wars fan, but I have even greater love for Battlefront II on the PS2, and since I can't remember the last time there was a standout Star Wars game after it, there is a lot on the line for 2017's Battlefront II.

If I had a pound for the number of people who are going to skip this part of the list...I'd still be totally skint, because not many people read my blog as it stands :'(.

Yes, I have played a lot of Call of Duty in my time, especially the Modern Warfare series. It's definitely not everyone's cup of tea and it's certainly not what it used to be. Enter Call of Duty: WWII which is taking a welcoming step back in time and a massive step forward for the series in my eyes.

Returning to its roots of WWII will not only catch the attention of old CoD players who might've moved on by now, but it allows the series to remain an arcade FPS while alleviating the intense groans brought on by the extravagant Michael Bay set pieces and futuristic copy/paste combat.

I, for one, am really looking forward to what Call of Duty: WWII has to offer. With a seemingly Hollywood blockbuster campaign akin to the cinematic experience presented in Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers just to name a few, this year Call of Duty has the potential to rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

There's no denying that id Software is the granddaddy of the first person shooter and if it wasn't for my tremendous love for RPGs and Bethesda Games Studios, then they'd easily be my favourite studio.

2014's Wolfenstein: The New Order wasn't id's first foray into reviving a classic franchise of theirs. That belongs to DOOM 3. And it wasn't the first time we'd see a rebooted Wolfenstein game as that is attached to 2009's unfortunately mediocre outing simply named Wolfenstein. However, I believe it is thanks to the success of The New Order that lead to the recent new wave of classic FPS franchises making their grand returns, namely DOOM in 2016 and the upcoming Quake Champions.

I'm getting slightly sidetracked, but having grown up playing classic first-person shooters like Wolfenstein 3D, DOOM 1 & 2, Half-Life and Quake, it was a blast from the past playing a ruthless, no holds barred, gun-toting badass like B.J. Blazkowicz again.

The New Colossus looks to up the ante even further, with more absurd moments and bloodier gauntlets for the Nazi-crushing one man army.

Bring 'em on!

I adore Far Cry 3. It improved greatly upon Far Cry 2's rigid feel and drab appearance with smoother combat and beautiful tropical visuals and gave me one of my all-time favourite video game villains in the form of the criminally under-utilised Vaas Montenegro.

Roll on to Far Cry 4 where I slip into the shoes of bland yes-man Ajay Ghale as opposed to the compelling fragile mind of Jason Brody and his deteriorating sanity, and you've pretty much got Far Cry 3, aside from an overall more captivating cast of characters and awesome wingsuit. Even Pagan Min fills the role of the charismatic and maniacal psychopath but at least he gets to see the end of the game.

At closer inspection, Far Cry 5 doesn't seem to differ too drastically from the formula set in the third and reiterated in the fourth, or even Far Cry Primal, but why should it? It works, it's fun. The open approach to tackling most of the situations you'll find yourself in is freeing, especially for the uber experimental player. The change in scenery won't hurt either and with the world affairs currently unfolding it's all the more relevant and relatable.

Did I mention you get a dog called Boomer, who let me tell you, is a F**KING GOOD BOY!

When was the last great open world Spider-Man game? If you said anything but Spider-Man 2 (specifically the PS2 version as the PC port is a completely different game) then you are wrong. If we take away the open world criteria I can hazard a guess many of you would say something along the lines of Shattered Dimensions or Ultimate Spider-Man, maybe even Web of Shadows.

The point I'm trying to make is that Spider-Man for the PS4 is looking like a suitable candidate to overthrow Spider-Man 2 as the Greatest friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man game. It looks slick, it looks punchy, it looks humourus. Furthermore, it looks to be borrowing the Arkham style combat which is just ace and the web-slinging seems to have its momentum building back.

Coming recently off the fantastic showing of Spider-Man: Homecoming, I'm all in for some more web shooting antics and humiliating the bad guys.

We need more light-hearted superhero games to fill the dark and dreary hole that the gritty Arkham series left and right now Spider-Man is our best shot.

Zombies games will never get boring for me. I'm sorry if according to you I'm "what's wrong with over-saturated genres" but I absolutely love mowing down hordes of undead in Dead Rising or methodically slicing them apart in Dying Light.

It's not just eviscerating the walking dead that gets my juices flowing, but I believe the use of zombies always opens the door for some scrumptious storytelling. The last days of mankind and the lengths the living are willing to go to just to survive are some of the most intriguing aspects of a zombie-infested world to me. The crazed panic of the initial outbreak, the heartbreak of destruction and loss, the band of struggling survivors just hoping to see a new dawn. Enthralling stuff I tell you.

In my opinion, Days Gone might just tick all those boxes and then some. The sheer intensity of those zombie chases is definitely going to force me into showering several times in a single day to clear the sweat. And despite what little gameplay there is to chew on right now and the severe lack of a release date over a year after its announcement, I still stand firmly in support of Days Gone and pray it won't be long until I finally have it in my hands.

Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor was easily my favourite game of 2014. It satisfied my fantasy adventure itch, my Lord of the Rings itch, and my Arkham combat itch. That's not even mentioning the groundbreaking nemesis system, the likes of we've still yet to see anyone even attempt to replicate.

Fast-forward 3 years and the sequel Shadow of War is right around the corner, October 10th to be exact, and I can't stand the wait any longer. The Lord of the Rings franchise is my all-time favourite kind of media entertainment and since there doesn't seem to be any more movies on the horizon, the games are all I have left.

Outside of my fanboy nature, Shadow of War is refining the nemesis system in order to make it deeper in layers. While Shadow of Mordor's nemesis system was built around creating rivalries within the ranks of orcs, in Shadow of War, it's to build a report with your own army of orcs. And with new additions such as tribes, bigger and more varied regions and fortresses, the personal experience is only going to get richer. Promote a soldier and see your bond grow closer leading to added bonuses in battle or shun them and risk watching as they turn against you to serve the Dark Lord.

Never before in a Lord of the Rings games would I ever expect to form a friendly connection with orcs as the hero.

One does not simply wait to play Shadow of War.

And that's all she wrote.

Hope you enjoyed this new type of article, especially when I'm planning two more by the end of the year.

Don't be shy, let me know what your most anticipated games are? I won't judge, honest.

Until next time

Stay inside, play video games.

When your girl sees you cracking open a cold one with the boys.

#games #video games #gaming #topten #top ten list #review #analysis

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artifactbloggingyay · 8 years ago

Text

Final draft of the story

Two little foxes lay side by side. Leaves swirled and settled around them, concealing their burrow. The forests in September were their sanctuary, a place for them to hide.

Humans. They loved to hear them scream.

Scout loved to watch people. The fox would hide amongst the blackberry bushes, observing. He found it fascinating, how they lined carved vegetables up along their walls, and dressed trees with shiny balls. The house belonging to this particular family had spider-webs strung in the windows, and flames from candles lit the pathway, the candlelit vegetables cast an orange glow on the ground. A skeletal figure held a bowl of sweets by the doorway, and the smell of cinnamon wafted from every house. He approached an illuminated orange ball with caution. Head cocked to the side, listening. A human must not see him. The smell of the foreign orange object intrigued him, and he stuck his head in for further investigation. Alas! The little fox was stuck! He strained against the scary lump wedged on his head, and seeing the carved face startled him. Scout yelped for the aid of anyone, anything. Small yellow wellies appeared within his view, and the pumpkin rolled on the floor to rest in the gutter. Scout turned to find the owner of the yellow boots. No one was there.

It was time for Christmas, when the unknown figure called “Jesus” is mentioned a lot in the melodic songs the humans like to sing. Snow swirled around Scout and his mother – they had made it through the hunting season. Now they must bear the harsh tail-biting winds of winter. The little fox nestled closer to the warmth of his only companion, falling asleep to the sounds of the human celebrations.

Scout escaped his burrow, attempting to survey his favourite human once again. The smell of spices and pine lingered in the air, and he loved to squeeze his small paws into the snow. The crunching sound fascinated him. His breath formed a tendril of white mist in the air, and the only sound in the forest was formed by his footsteps. White powder blanketed every fir tree, weighing the branches to the ground. The village up ahead twinkled with fairy lights, with the town centre housing a decadent Christmas tree. Scout paused at his intended destination. He loved how this house in particular always put on the best show. He could see a gingerbread castle through the window, and could vaguely make out the glint of baubles through the frosted glass of their front door. The door was open! He nudged it with his nose, his eyes widening at the sight of the tree before him. Decked with candy canes and shiny baubles, beads strung from branch to branch, with a variety of different coloured boxes assembled in neat rows underneath. The beads caught Scout’s attention the most, and he clasped them between his teeth, attempting to pull them off. He knew his mother would love something shiny. He didn’t seem to notice the tree straining against the electrics on the wall, or the crystal baubles smashing into colourful glitter on the floor. The tree landed with a thud on his head, trapping him underneath its spiny clutches. The yellow boots appeared once again, this time with less hesitation. It seemed the small human had grown used to helping him out. The child lifted him out. Scared, Scout ran away from the cruel tree without looking back, howling for his mother.

Spring rolled around and with it came the sun. It was a welcoming sight for Scout and his mother, as it meant that they did not have to survive on scraps any more. However, spring brought the rainy season, and each night the two foxes would shelter from the whistling winds and whipping rain that flooded each burrow they stayed in. Storms rattled the leaves and tore at their skin, freezing the blood within their veins.

Scout set out with the intent to meet what he assumed to be a human cub again. The path looked different at this time of year, it was now dotted with differently coloured flowers. He bounded in and out of the daffodils, his tail flying haphazardly in the air behind him. The sun highlighted the white stripe down his back. Scout continued down the road until he found the same house, and true to character, it looked different now than it did on his last visit. This time colourful eggs were piled amongst the grass, and bouquets of over-the-top flower displays graced every windowsill. None of these things caught his attention, however. This time around, something from their back garden interested him. It smelled sweet and overwhelmed his senses, making him feel a little bit queasy. He investigated anyway, determined to find out where all the new noises and smells were coming from. As he rounded the corner his eyes fell upon a scene of wonder, these were the most colourful decorations this human family had. Although the fox had a muted sense of colour, the brightness overwhelmed him. The object that was emitting the sweet smell towered over Scout, it’s yellow icing hanging in curtains. The little fox pounced on the cake, bearing down on it like an insatiable predator on its quaking prey. The yellow wellies appeared when the cake was halfway gone. Scout had a sickening weight in the bottom of his stomach at this point, and was fairly certain whatever this bright monstrosity was, was not meant to be eaten by fox kind. Even if he had attempted to hide it, Scout was coated in sugar from head to toe. He had been caught red-handed.

The warmth from the sun’s scorching beams beat down on the foxes, burning their shadows into the earth. They tried everything to escape the sweltering heat, but to no avail. The promise of a cold autumn seemed almost a blessing, an escape from this humid torture.

Scout left on an adventure to the human world again, not prepared for the intensity of heat once out of the shade. Other animals seemed happy, nevertheless relishing the rays from the sun. Birds fluttered through the trees, and the grass hummed with the sound of crickets. Cries from an assortment of different bugs set Scout on edge; he could hear them and not see them. He moved forwards regardless, pouncing on insects that crawled across his feet. Scout had developed the habit of visiting the human every day, and yet somehow he had still not seen the face of the mysterious figure that rescued him every time he found himself in a pickle. The familiar face of the house loomed over Scout once again. For the second time around, he became fascinated in the noises coming from the back garden. The warmer months appeared to inspire more human gatherings. Scout bounded around the side of the house and through a gate, not looking until he stumbled upon an open hole in the ground. Why would humans dig a hole and fill it with water, if not to drink it? Why were they in this water? He attempted to skid to a stop but it was too late, his fall broken with a splash. Multiple pairs of human eyes turned to watch him before frantically swimming away. Screaming. So many screams. An inflatable ring landed on his head and he found himself incapable of getting it off. Hands lifted him from the water and set him on dry land. The inflatable was off his head and back in the water. A female voice called from within the house belonging to the child. “Put that fox down. You never know what diseases it could be carrying.” The child obeyed the words of his mother, because by the time Scout had opened his eyes, his helper had vanished. He saw a flash of yellow disappear around the corner.

The return of autumn brought the return of the guns.

The humans came for them whilst they were sleeping. They brought their allies, hounds, and set them upon their hideout. Scout's mother drew him closer to her belly, attempting to soothe his quaking body. She knew they were surrounded. The humans pulled on the reins of their animal slaves and started to yell, spurring the hounds on but their main aim was to flush the foxes out into open land. The dogs were squealing with excitement, preparing for the chase. The two foxes broke out from the brush, and dashed across the open field. They didn’t have to look back to know that there were at least thirty hounds chasing after them. Earth disappeared beneath them as they ran with all their might to safety. The screams of hounds grew ever closer. And then it happened. His mother. His mother vanished from sight. He heard her terrified yelp reverberate through the trees. Red. Thick red. He saw through the brushes the red from the pack of hounds that were now tearing apart his mother. Blood. So much blood. The humans cheered. They were happy that she was dead. As they celebrated, Scout started to feel sick. They took joy in making his mother suffer. He sheltered in the nearest brush, dipping into an uneasy sleep, the echo of the humans cheers still playing in his head.

Scout’s cries to the sky can be heard at night if you listen hard enough. Every night he travels up the hill to watch the stars brighten as the sky darkens. He can see the face of his mother in its rocky surface. The trails in his fur deepen every time he cries, as each day he weeps. When full moon comes, the cries are especially dreadful. The little fox was so alone, the human cub forgotten.

Scout took his daily trip up the hill that provided him protection. He stopped dead when he spotted a figure atop the hill. Ears pointed to the sky, he approached the figure with attentiveness. Although it was dark, the yellow was like a beacon underneath the glow of the moon. It was the child! Why was it here? The face of the child was not visible until the light fell upon it.

“Hello, little fox, my name is Arlo. I believe I’ve seen you before?” The child whispered.

A flicker of a smile lit up the child’s eyes, and below them, Scout could see trails of tears etched on their skin, very similar to his own. Somehow, Scout didn’t feel so alone.

0 notes

artifactbloggingyay · 8 years ago

Text

Scout and Arlo (Rough Draft)

Two little foxes lay side by side. Leaves swirled and settled around them, concealing their burrow. The forests in September were their sanctuary, a place for them to hide.

Humans. They loved to hear them scream.

Scout loved to watch people. The fox would hide amongst the blackberry bushes, observing. He found it fascinating, how they lined carved vegetables up along their walls, and dressed trees with shiny things. This particular family had spider-webs strung in the windows, and flames from candles lit the pathway, the pumpkins leaving an orange hue. A skeletal figure held a bowl of sweets by the doorway, and the smell of cinnamon wafted from every house. Scout approached a pumpkin with caution. Head cocked to the side, listening. A human must not see him. The smell of the foreign orange object intrigued him, and he stuck his head in for further investigation. Alas! The little fox was stuck! He strained against the scary lump wedged on his head, and seeing the carved face startled him. Scout yelped for the aid of anyone, anything. Small yellow wellies appeared within his view, and the pumpkin rolled on the floor to rest in the gutter. Scout turned to find the owner of the yellow boots. No one was there.

It was time for Christmas, when the unknown figure called “Jesus” is mentioned a lot in the melodic songs the humans like to sing. Snow swirled around Scout and his mother, they had made it through the hunting season. Now they must bear the harsh tail-biting winds of winter. Scout nestled closer to the warmth of his only companion, falling asleep to the sounds of the human celebrations.

Scout escaped his burrow, attempting to survey his favourite human once again. The smell of spices and pine lingered in the air, and Scout loved to squeeze his small paws into the snow. The crunching sound fascinated him. His breath formed a tendril of white mist in the air, and the only sound in the forest was formed by his footsteps. White powder blanketed every fir tree, weighing the branches to the ground. The village up ahead twinkled with fairy lights, with the town centre housing a decadent Christmas tree. Scout paused at his intended destination. He loved how this house in particular always put on the best show. He could see a gingerbread castle through the window, and could vaguely make out the glint of baubles through the frosted glass of their front door. The door was open! Scout nudged it with his nose, his eyes widening at the sight of the tree before him. Decked with candy canes and shiny baubles, beads strung from branch to branch, with a variety of different coloured boxes assembled in neat rows underneath. The beads caught Scout’s attention the most, and he clasped them between his teeth, attempting to pull them off. His mother would love something shiny. Scout didn’t seem to notice the tree straining against the electrics on the wall, or the crystal baubles becoming colourful glitter on the floor. The tree landed with a thud on his head, trapping him underneath its spiny clutches. The yellow boots appeared once again, this time with less hesitation. It seemed the small humanoid had grown used to helping him out. The child lifted him out. Scared, Scout ran away from the cruel tree without looking back, howling for his mother.

Spring rolled around and with it came the sun. It was a welcoming sight for Scout and his mother, as it meant that they did not have to survive on scraps anymore. However, spring brought the rainy season, and each night the two foxes would shelter from the whistling winds and whipping rain that flooded each burrow they stayed in. Storms rattled the leaves and tore at their skin, freezing the blood within their veins.

Scout left on an adventure to the human world again, not prepared for the intensity of heat once out of the shade. Other animals seemed happy, nevertheless relishing the rays from the sun. Birds fluttered through the trees, and the grass hummed with the sound of crickets. Cries from an assortment of different bugs set Scout on edge; he could hear them and not see them. He moved forwards regardless, pouncing on insects that crawled across his feet. Scout had developed the habit of visiting the human every day, and yet somehow he had still not seen the face of the mysterious figure that rescued him every time he found himself in a pickle. The familiar face of the house loomed over Scout once again. For the second time around, he became fascinated in the noises coming from the back garden. The warmer months appeared to inspire more human gatherings. Scout bounded around the side of the house and through a gate, not looking until he stumbled upon an open hole in the ground. Why would humans dig a hole and fill it with water, if not to drink it? Why were they in this water? He attempted to skid to a stop but it was too late, his fall broken with a splash. Multiple pairs of human eyes turned to watch him before frantically swimming away. Screaming. So many screams. An inflatable ring landed on his head and he found himself incapable of getting it off. Hands lifted him from the water and set him on dry land. The inflatable was off his head and back in the water, and by the time Scout had opened his eyes, his helper had vanished. He saw a flash of yellow disappear around the corner.

The return of autumn brought the return of the guns.

The humans came for them whilst they were sleeping. They brought their allies, hounds, and set them upon their hideout. Scouts’ mother drew him closer to her belly, attempting to soothe his quaking. She knew they were surrounded. The humans, sat upon their animal slaves, started yelling. Spurring the hounds on, but also trying to flush the foxes out into open land. The dogs were squealing with excitement, preparing for the chase. The two foxes broke out from the brush, and dashed across the open field. They didn’t have to look back to know there were at least thirty hounds following suite. Earth disappeared beneath them as they ran with all their might to safety. The screams of hounds grew ever closer. His mother vanished from sight and the yelp of a terrified animal reverberated through the trees. A glimpse of red could be seen through the pack of hounds that were now tearing apart his mother. The cheers of the humans as they celebrated their catch filled the air, making Scout feel sick. They took joy in making his mother suffer. He sheltered in the nearest brush, dipping into an uneasy sleep, the echo of the humans cheers still playing in his head.

Scout’s cries to the moon can be heard at night if you listen hard enough. Every night he travels up the hill to watch the moon brighten as the sky darkens. He can see his mother in the rocky surface of the moon. The trails in his fur deepen every time he cries, as each day he weeps. When full moon comes, the cries are especially dreadful. The little fox was so alone, the human cub forgotten.

“Hello, little fox, my name is Arlo. I believe I’ve seen you before?” The child whispered.

A flicker of a smile lit up the child’s eyes, and below them, Scout could see trails of tears etched on their skin, very similar to his own. Somehow, Scout didn’t feel so alone.

0 notes