#tw for each chapter

[aspenforest732]

Mortem ad Wrens: Overview

Akira told themself they would become a hero to protect children from their corrupt society and to take down their family. Now, attending UA high school, they’re discovering the nuances of hero culture and limelight heroes. Follow their journey as Akira finds themselves fighting on multiple fronts against enemies seen and unseen.

Or: chaotic street rat gets into UA and tries to keep people from discovering their past and present while scheming for their future

Moving this from ao3 to fanfiction.net, wattpad, and tumblr after the screenshots showed the company is pro-Israel. Libertias aut Mortis will still be on ao3, but still.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

Bello Licentiae (fic 2)

Libertias aut Mortis (fic 3)

Memoirs Mori (loose oneshots and other media)

[3-2-whump]

(Re)Living a Nightmare, part 2

<prev next>

You're still here? Okay, it's not gonna get any better for our poor boy. Do read and heed the tags/CW.

Basic Summary if You Decide to Skip

Also please skim this chapter and this chapter if you haven't already, because they will be referenced heavily in the story coming up

TW/CW: rape/noncon, bound and gagged and blindfolded whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, knife play, neither safe nor sane nor consensual, blood (lots of blood), victim blaming, internalized victim blaming, whumpee and whumper unknowingly triggering each other, blunt force trauma to the head (face), panic

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

All Thomas asked of him was to change into clothes he wouldn’t mind replacing, which usually meant that whatever Khaled wore would be torn/burned/ stained so irreparably that it’d just be thrown away after. Already based on that request, Khaled could guess he was in for a rough night. He had no idea how much worse it could get until he was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and carried out the apartment and down to the cold garage, where the hard foot-well of the back seat waited for him. The car revved to life, and his restrained body lurched forward as Thomas pulled out of the garage and drove them to fuck knows where.

Eventually they came to a stop, Thomas exchanged some words with the night-shift guard at the old house, and then they kept going until they parked. Khaled slowly started to put the pieces together. They were back at the old house, which probably meant Thomas wanted to take him downstairs, which meant whatever he wanted to do to him would be too messy or too specialized to do back at the apartment. What is he planning? Khaled wondered. He’s asked me to wear my most expendable clothes, he’s tied me up like I used to be when I was recaptured, he’s thrown me into the back like when I was recaptured-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car door opening. He blindly tilted his head toward the chill of the night and the distant sound of frogs singing. A pair of calloused hands hauled him up from the foot-well of the back seat and slung him over a broad shoulder. “Thought you could escape me this time, did you?” his master’s voice purred in his ear.

A pit of dread competed with the chill of the early spring night in his bones as Khaled realized what all this preparation had meant. Master wants to roleplay my escape attempts. He began shivering, though not just because of the cold. A warm hand rested on his buttocks to steady him as he felt himself being carried inside, through the hallway, and to the front of a very familiar door. Reliving his failed escape attempts but with an added sexual element was one of Khaled’s recurring nightmares. What cruel irony was this, that he had begged so enthusiastically no more than half an hour ago for this man to make his nightmare come true?

The familiar creak of a door opening preceded the dusty, dried-blood smell coming from the stairs leading down into the cellar. Khaled pleaded through the rag stuffed in his mouth and the tape sealed over his lips as they descended the stairs step by concrete step. He tugged at the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles, but all that did was dig the hard plastic further into his flesh.

The cellar in the basement was the only room in Luciano Antonio Costa’s old house that didn’t get renovated when they converted the rest of it into an office space. Mainly because its purpose as a room for torture and interrogation never went obsolete. Khaled didn’t have to see it; he’d been down in the T&I cellar enough times to have the layout committed to memory. Dusty, red bricked walls arched into a curved ceiling where two overhead lamps hung by thick chains, illuminating the large expanse below. A fireplace and all its accompanying iron tools sat to the left, and a rack lined with various instruments of torture was positioned to the right. In the middle was one large table with scratch marks furrowed into its edges, and many other types of equipment were either shoved in a corner or hanging from the ceiling, suspended by heavy chains and hooks like morbid chandeliers. Partitioning a back portion of the room was a large iron gate leading to a small offshoot of the basement, much like a door to a prison cell. Not much lay beyond the iron gate besides a hard-worn bench and several opaque plastic storage tubs full of mysterious items.

Khaled squirmed as he was lowered onto his stomach on top of the familiar table. “What were you thinking,” scolded the nightmare looming above him. A faint swish of a pocket knife and cold steel next to his skin made Khaled pause his struggles as his master cut away the zip ties. “Escaping in this cold weather without so much as a scrap of clothing on you –did you even have a plan?” he taunted. “I don’t know what your plan was, or even if you had a plan, but was it really worth freezing yourself to death?”

Khaled enjoyed the freedom of his unbound limbs for only a moment until his wrists were snatched into a tight grip and gathered in front of him. A coarse and scratchy material –rope, most likely –began entangling around and in between his wrists as his master continued talking. “We have a tracking chip installed inside of you, remember? You can never escape me; I will always find you.” With a forceful tug, Khaled’s hands were pulled in front of him, then he couldn’t move his hands at all. The other end of the rope must have been tied off to the ring attachment at the edge of the table.

His ankles remained free, if only to make it easier to take his pants off.

There were some light shuffling noises before the wooden table groaned under a newfound weight. Khaled felt the body heat of another person leaning over him. The cologne Thomas wore quickly overpowered his senses as the man hovered close. Khaled could feel his master’s breath on his ear and something hard and stiff against his backside. “The last time you tried to run away, a friend of mine advised me to cut your tendons,” Thomas sultrily whispered.

Oh god no. By now, Khaled knew which escape attempt they were reenacting, and, coincidentally, it was the one he had nightmares about the most.

“I don’t want to permanently cripple you though,” Thomas sighed, “mostly because it would be even more of a hassle to care for you, but I will cripple you temporarily, at the very least...”

He could already hear the hiss of the iron.

His panicked cries took on a new pitch of desperation. Without warning, his master’s fingers pinched at the edge of the duct tape on Khaled’s mouth and pulled, making him scream in pain. The rag was quickly removed, only for his tormentor to shove his index and middle fingers past the boy’s teeth to depress his tongue. “Suck,” he growled, “because this is the only lube you’re going to get.”

“Please, no, not this one, please, please no, not this, not this,” Khaled begged around the fingers in his mouth.

The fingers quickly withdrew before Khaled’s head was yanked back by the hair and then smashed onto the table. Stars danced across his blindfold, and a faint trickle of something warm and wet escaped from his nose.

“Let’s try this again.” Thomas shoved his fingers back into the boy’s mouth, burying them to the knuckle and making the boy gag. “Suck.”

Khaled shakily worked his head up and down the length of the fingers as his tongue lapped at each digit. He started to cry. As soon as the fingers withdrew, his pleas picked up again in earnest. “Please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me, please don’t burn me-”

“Would you relax?! I’m not going to burn you!” Thomas shouted above him. “What about any of this looks like I’m gonna burn you?!” Khaled heard a frustrated huff above him as his master yanked down his pants and underwear, exposing his bare ass and legs to the cold. The shed clothing was discarded, landing with a soft whump somewhere behind them. The two digits that were in his mouth forcefully entered him below, all pretense of play forgotten as they began roughly working him open. “Besides which, weren’t you the one who wanted to do this? You asked for this, you wanted this! You said you would be good for me!”

And he was right, he did say he wanted this. He asked for this to happen. So, with a defeated sniffle, Khaled went quiet and limp.

“So, are you going to be good for me now?”

Khaled’s bruised forehead scraped against the table as he nodded.

“Thank fuck,” Thomas grumbled.

I asked for this, Khaled told himself. The darkness around his eyes became damp as the blindfold caught his tears. I asked for this, I wanted this. He repeated it like a mantra as the man on top of him replaced his fingers with his cock and steadily screwed him against the table. I asked for this, I wanted this. Something tore down there as an unmistakable thin, warm, and sticky fluid trickled past the cock pummeling his hole. I wanted this. I wanted this…

I didn’t want this.

I never wanted this. Any of this.

I don’t want this. Slowly, the new mantra gained strength, and he let the words slip between his lips with every shuddering breath. “I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-”

“Tough shit,” his master grunted.

Khaled pulled against the rope restraining his hands as he struggled against the body pressing into his. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I don’t want this! I-” Again, Khaled’s face was smashed against the table. He heard a faint crunch as a new river of blood flowed out of his nose.

“You can scream all you want, nobody’s going to hear you,” Thomas growled, “but for fucks sakes, can you please scream something less annoying?!”

Khaled kept repeating it between every sniffle, like a sad broken record. “I don’t want this,” he sobbed. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this…”

His begging finally outwore Thomas’ need to finish. “Fuck,” his master huffed, unsticking his sweaty torso from Khaled’s clothed back as he pulled out of him. Khaled collected his heaving breaths. It would be too naïve of him to believe his bitchy whining finally got through, but he would appreciate this moment while he could.

He suppressed his sobs and tilted his head to follow the footsteps and shuffling sounds Thomas was making as he tried to guess what would happen to him next. Khaled heard the faint schwing of a different knife being unsheathed. It cut through the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt as his master finally completely undressed him, tearing away the scraps of cotton the knife didn’t excise from his body. “You said you would be good for me, but you have been anything but!” A twisted strip of cloth was wedged between his teeth and hastily tied off at the back of his head. His master’s hand pinned him down by the back of the neck, crushing him against the table with the weight behind it. “You said you missed me, but you’ve only fought against me this whole time!” Khaled screamed into the gag as the tip of the knife sank in between his shoulder blades. Its blade dragged tortuously and deliberately through his skin as his tormentor continued griping above him. “You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The knife mercifully lifted from the trough it had carved, only to be plunged into a new area of Khaled’s back. “Do you know what I do to liars, boy? I make them pay!” The raw wounds on his back wept with blood as the knife kept slicing, spilling over his sides and pooling underneath his stomach and the table below. It was hard to cry with a gag in his mouth and a broken nose full of blood. He gasped for breaths between sobs, never quite getting a satisfying breath before the pain of the knife would make him scream again. His tears slipped past the saturated blindfold and tracked down his cheeks to join the pinkish smear of saliva, snot, and blood he could feel covering the lower half of his face. “This is for Callahan!” The knife drove down and sliced another line through his skin for each name the monster dropped. “This is for Trémeaux! And Robinson, and Martinez, and Kruger, and Kościelsky, and this-” The knife dug deeper this time. Khaled bit into the gag as his nerves screamed in agony, the steel scraping something hard as it dragged against his back. “-this is for my brother; he is never coming back! Tony is never coming back, and it’s all because of you!” the monster above him roared.

It was in that moment, between the terror and the pain, that Khaled realized with a fascinated horror that his master was reliving a nightmare, too. I need to snap him out of it if I’m getting out of this cellar alive, he realized. So, he set his own trauma and pain aside and began doing what got him into this mess in the first place. The twisted cloth had loosened just enough. He pushed it out of his mouth with his tongue and started begging as if his life depended on it, because this time, it really did.

“I didn’t kill him!” he cried.  “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” Khaled screamed well past the point his throat hurt. “Master, please, I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill any of them! I didn’t kill him, I didn’t kill him, Master, I didn’t kill him…” If the knife had stopped cutting into him and the rope around his wrists had been untied, Khaled was too far gone in his panic induced catatonia to notice. “I didn’t kill him… I didn’t kill him…” he rasped through a throat torn raw from screaming.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: I'm Going In

in which Joy goes on a life-changing field trip

cw: referenced violence, death mentions, implied lab whump, adult language

previous // masterlist // next

×~×~×

Tomorrow came too fast.

In preparation for the mission, Joy’s body refused to sleep, waking her up at least once an hour to remind her that hooray, you have an important task in the morning! Better be ready, wouldn’t sleep be great?

She rolled out of bed at the first chirp of the alarm clock, groggy and more than a little pissed at her own brain. Vic hadn't specified a required uniform, so she changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in; breathable hiking pants, a black tank top, and a pair of combat boots. The shit they'd been provided for training was nice and all, but if she was about to embark on an expedition she wanted to remember exactly where her pockets were.

No one had seen Sahota since yesterday’s challenge, but Vic said he'd meet her by the compound’s exit. She waited there, slouched against the wall, tapping her foot in an uneven rhythm. 

Fuck. The moment of truth was at hand. She knew she could technically hold up her end of the deal now, shoot an ‘oh damn, are you okay?’ Sahota's way and immediately get shot down with a gruff ‘fine. Don't ask me again.’

But that probably wasn't what Jericho had in mind. Joy couldn't be direct about it. Last time she'd tried, it had only pissed Sahota off, and that wasn't the effect she was going for. She'd have to be subtle, dance around the subject as best she could. Too bad she had two left feet.

If she hadn’t been cued in already, the first sign that something was wrong came when Sahota actually made noise on his approach. His footsteps were heavier than they usually were, his breathing more ragged. It took effort to suppress a wince when she caught sight of him. He'd looked bad before, but now she was surprised he was still standing, much less about to head off on a mission. His left eye was swollen shut, and cuts and bruises littered his face. 

How many times had Harbor hit him?

Her anger at the other man doubled in size, but she managed to choke it back, keep it out of her expression.

“Hey,” she said. “Time to go?”

Sahota gave a silent nod, moving to the door and typing in a sequence on the keypad beside it. Joy thought to try and catch a glimpse of the code two seconds too late, and all she could do was mildly regret it as the door slid open.

It struck her as a little weird that it locked from both sides, but that was probably for cases like theirs: schmucks off the street, employed by vague threats and promises and kept on a tighter leash by Vic’s control issues. 

She followed Sahota up a set of concrete stairs and into the daylight. The morning air was almost chilly enough to make her wish she'd brought a jacket, the overcast sky promising rain. Gazing up at the clouds, she realized this was her first time setting foot outside since her arrival. Thank fuck she’d been distractred enough that the thought was only occuring to her now, otherwise she would’ve been going stir-crazy in there.

Getting to the compound had been a bit of a blur—some generic car with tinted windows and a silent driver dropping her into Vic's loving arms—so she wasn't too surprised that its exterior wasn't familiar. Brutalist concrete building that wouldn't look out of place in a sci-fi movie. Bigger than it looked from the outside, but she knew now that most of the structure was underground.

Sahota moved away from the entrance, to an overhang at the side of the building. Joy didn't know why she was surprised to see a car parked under it. It made sense that they had a way to come and go, but their vehicle of choice caught her off guard. It was just a beat-up truck, not the sleek spy car she might've dreamt up. It was probably better for blending in, but she still found herself a little disappointed. All the fancy tech Vic had at his disposal for training, and he'd settled on a ford for his getaway vehicle.

Sahota moved to the driver's side, and she noticed for the first time he was limping. Just a little, barely enough to tell, but once she caught on, it was clear he was favoring his left leg. 

Joy couldn't stop herself. “Did Harbor do that too?” she blurted out, gesturing down. He stared at her blankly for a second, then gave a small shake of his head. 

“Old injury. Acts up in bad weather.”

“What's it from?”

He unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat. “Training.”

Bit ironic that a lasting injury came from training and not the job itself, but life was a bitch like that sometimes. She'd broken her wrist in a middle school softball game once. Not diving for home plate, or even staggering back to catch a ball. She'd just… tripped and landed wrong. It still got stiff on some winter mornings, much to her irritation.

Joy climbed into the passenger seat. “Is it gonna bother you on the mission?” It was a blanket question. Should you even be out here? Go to bed, is what she wanted to say, but she imagined Sahota would take offense to that.

“This isn't a mission,” he replied, starting the truck and tactfully avoiding her question. Fair enough.

“How far is it to the lab?” she asked.

“Hour. Maybe more if we catch traffic.”

Well, on the plus side that gave her plenty of time to slowly close in on the topic of Sahota’s okay-ness. On the negative, if she somehow pushed the wrong buttons, she’d be stuck with a silent and grumpy Sahota for the rest of the drive. And the mission. And the drive back. Joy swallowed, winding her fingers together and pointing herself towards the window. Tactful. Be tactful.

“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “Kinda lame that Vic shot down your idea.”

“Hm?”

“The challenge? I thought it was…” Fun? Hell no. It had been just as awkward as this. “...Interesting,” she finished. Sahota said nothing, his eyes—eye. Should he even be driving?—locked on the road.

“Also,” Joy continued when he said nothing, “it's kinda bullshit that Vic changed the plan after we won.”

At that, Sahota let out a sigh. “I shouldn't have let you try in the first place. That's on me.”

“Is it?” She turned in her seat, facing him. “Sounds like it's on Vic. Aren't you guys partners?”

His expression didn't change, but his hands seemed to tighten around the steering wheel. “Yes.”

“Then why is he the one calling all the shots? You should get a say.”

“It's complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“It's…” his mouth tightened. “Vic’s had a lot more time on the job. He knows better than I do. If he overrules me, it's for a reason.”

It could be true, partially true, but Vic seemed to think he had more power than just that. Her mind went to the video. Vic’s total disregard for his so-called partner.

“Maybe he knows better, but that doesn't mean he can treat you like shit.” She might've been overstepping, and maybe the incident really was just so routine that neither of them cared about it, but the slight shift in Sahota's face, the way his arms tensed, had her thinking she was right.

“Why do you work with him?” Joy asked. “You're really fucking skilled. Why not get a job with someone who appreciates that?”

“What about you?” Sahota replied without missing a beat. “You're smart. You build and fix things like it's second nature. Why'd you go for the criminal side when you could be something better?”

Joy scoffed. “It's not that easy.” She'd watched her oldest sister struggle with student loans, and high school had already been hard enough to stay focused through. She'd been scared of college, to tell the truth, and joining the army fresh after graduation just seemed like the smart path. No financial burden for her parents, no help from anyone else.

“Exactly,” Sahota said. “It's not that easy.”

She couldn't think of a retort on the spot, and instead turned her gaze back to the window, watching the clouds gradually darken. The city skyline was growing in the distance, but they didn't seem to be headed in that direction. She figured she could ask about that, fill the silence, but she knew it wasn’t the question she was supposed to be chasing.

Are you okay? It was on her tongue, refusing to be spoken. Whatever he answered, she knew it would be a lie, and voicing it seemed pointless when she knew he wasn’t.

Eventually, they turned down what her mother would've called a road less traveled; a ribbon cut through the trees that was more pothole than asphalt.

“Rotorworx has a lab back here?” Joy said, trying to peer through the dense foliage. 

“Used to. Closed down after an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“You’ve probably heard of it. Happened during the experiment Harbor was part of.”

Wait wait wait, this was that lab? Joy wracked her brain, trying to recall everything she'd read about the experiment. The published studies were vague at best. Something something innovative, life-changing technology. A sixth sense in development, a peek into another word. For a few months, it had been advertised on the daily; little teasing articles that told you nothing.

And then all of a sudden, news of the experiments stopped completely. Rumors circulating a few online forums suggested the project ended in a disaster, but she'd never found an official source; nothing to indicate exactly what went down. For all she knew, the research team had just been forced to scrap everything after losing funding. 

But something had to have gone right, right? Harbor had come out with… with… well, the promised sixth sense. Why hadn’t that ever been publicized?

“What do you know about the incident?” she asked Sahota.

“There's not much intel available,” he replied. “Something went wrong. Several researchers were killed, and the lab was closed by the government.” He pulled the truck into a patch of weeds that lined the road.

Killed? It had gone that wrong?

“We’ll need to walk from here,” Sahota said. “The area will be fenced off.” He hopped out of the truck, stumbling a little on the dismount. Joy couldn't tell if it was from his knee, or some new, Harbor-caused injury. She jumped out after him.

“You okay?” she said.

“Fine.”

Exactly how she’d thought it would play out. Ah well, it was a decent warmup. Sahota started into the treeline, his boots crunching against fallen leaves, and Joy followed him.

“You said people died.”

“They did.”

“How?”

“Cause of death was never made public.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “None of this was ever made public. It just… I don't know, went away.” She probably shouldn’t be too shocked. Big companies loved their good publicity.

The promised fence made its appearance before too long. It was simple chain-link; no barbed wire, no cameras that Joy could pick out. Instead, spaced out along every ten meters or so, there was a plastic sign:

DANGER. CONTAMINATED AREA.

“Contaminated,” she read aloud. “Fun. Should we be worried?”

“Probably not.” 

Sahota scaled the fence with ease, and Joy followed. The area inside was less overgrown than the surrounding woods. Weeds came up past her ankles, but all things considered, that was pretty well-kept. Directly ahead, nestled between a few trees, a white concrete building stuck up out of the earth like a broken molar.

For a moment, she forgot she wasn't alone, taking off towards the lab without another word to Sahota. It wasn't very big. Was most of it underground? Had this been built solely for the sixth sense project, or had they conducted other research here?

“Cavan.”

Joy stopped short at Sahota's voice, casting a sheepish glance over her shoulder. “Sorry.” She waited for him to catch up, then held back a bit, deciding it was probably smarter to follow his lead. She knew her way around a shady area, but he seemed far more versed in subtlety than she was.

Sure enough, he honed in on what she assumed was a maintenance door, and knelt in front of it to get at the lock. In the six steps it took for Joy to reach him, she heard a click, and then he was easing it open, squinting into the darkness with his one good eye.

“No lights, no sounds. Safe to assume they cut all power once shit hit the fan.”

She peered over his shoulder. The maintenance room looked untouched, if a little dirty, and at one end, a flight of concrete stairs descended into darkness. Inviting, in a survival horror kind of way.

Sahota produced a flashlight, turned it on with a twist, and led the way down the stairs. The door at the bottom was also locked, but he made quick work of it.

That was a good sign, right? If there was anything inside worth seeing, it had to have been sorta protected by these security measures. The second door opened into a silent hallway. A thin layer of grime covered once-white tile, and she could see a few darkened doorways further in.

“If the main target's Elysium, this must be Asphodel,” she said, wrinkling her nose as the smell of mildew wafted out to greet it.

Sahota cast a glance over his shoulder as he stepped into the hall. “Didn't pin you for someone who knows Greek mythology.”

It sounded like something she should take offense to, but Joy just shrugged. “I'm allowed to have more than one hobby.” It wasn't like she made a habit of studying mythology, but the Percy Jackson books were some of the few she'd been able to sit through as a kid. Not only that, she'd actually enjoyed reading them.

“You like reading?” Joy asked as they pushed further inside, past a few empty rooms that looked like they'd once been offices. The corridor seemed to end at a set of double doors, deep in the dark.

“When I have time,” Sahota replied.

“Funny, I didn't pin you for a nerd,” Joy said. It was too dark to see his face, but she was willing to bet he wasn't smiling. “Are the books in the library yours?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“All of them?” Her mind went to the copy of 1984, all the tally marks. At first she'd assumed they'd been made by some previous owner, but maybe it had been Sahota all along. What would he be counting? Missions? Kills? Why put it there, of all places?

“Some are Vic's,” he answered.

She couldn't imagine what Vic would be counting either, unless it was all the parades he’d rained on. “Got a favorite book?”

He was silent for a moment, the only sound the faint fall of their shoes on the grungy tile. “The Hobbit,” he said at last.

“You are a nerd.”

“Maybe.”

She couldn't see shit past the flashlight’s beam, but this time she swore she heard the touch of a smile in his voice. 

Before she could ask if he had a favorite character, they'd arrived at the double doors. They looked sturdy—or rather, they looked like they used to be sturdy. The layers of wood and metal had warped somehow, buckled outwards. Like it had been rammed with a truck from the other side, or sustained some kind of intense pressure.

Sahota tested the door on the left, and it gave, just a little. He hit it with a more focused shove, and it gave a little more.

“Help me get this open.”

Joy stepped forward, bracing her palms against the door and leaning forward with all her weight. The door swung open with an awful scraping sound and a terrible smell to match, all stale smoke and the sour odor of rusted metal. She took a step back, letting Sahota and his flashlight get in there first.

The walls were charred, likely by scientific failures. The floor was also charred, with a few random squares lightened by what she could only assume was the removal of equipment. It looked emptied out, but not completely. A few metal cabinets were jammed together against one wall, a few more toppled like dominoes near the center. 

If Joy didn't know any better, she'd say there’d been some kind of explosion in here. And really, she didn't know better.

“Site of the incident?” she said.

“Looks like it,” Sahota agreed. “Check the cabinets. We're looking for notes, blueprints, any surviving papers.”

Joy nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and moved to the first cabinet. Sahota set the flashlight in the middle of the room, creating a dim, but usable, glow. 

Cabinet number one wasn't in great shape. It seemed buckled in on itself, much like the doors, and getting the top drawer open took a lot of effort on Joy's part. With the scant lighting, she couldn't see what it held, and was resigned to feeling around inside. Nothing.

“How long have you been working with Vic, anyway?” she called over her shoulder as she moved to the second drawer.

“Almost twelve years now.”

Damn. “You guys must be close.” Vic was an asshole, there was no doubt about that, but had she been overthinking his and Sahota’s interactions? If they'd been together that long, they had to have some kind of weird coping mechanisms for when the other was hurt.

“Mm.”

A week ago, she would've asked exactly how close he and Vic were. She was still pretty sure they were romantically involved on some level, but their weird power dynamic made her… uncomfortable. But maybe it was just some kind of kink that had leaked out of their bedroom? If that was the case, it really wasn’t her business to be calling Vic a piece of shit to his partner’s face.

Joy wriggled open the next drawer. “Sorry about what I said before,” she said, feeling around the inside of the space. “About Vic treating you bad. I shouldn’t have made that assumption.” To her surprise, her fingers brushed paper. A few sheets by the feel of it. 

Behind her, Sahota let out a quiet sigh. “It’s fine. Vic’s… he’s hard to get used to.”

That was an understatement. She’d liked Vic in the beginning, but it hadn’t taken long to see the ruthless apathy hiding behind his friendly mask. Maybe under that there was yet another layer, a sweet side that only Sahota got to glimpse. For his sake, she sure fucking hoped so.

Aside from a lonely sheet of paper in a bottom drawer, the remaining cabinets held a grand total of nothing. Joy shuffled her findings into the crook of her arm.

“Can we move this back to the hall?” she asked once she’d given the drawers a final once-over. “The smell is gonna give me a headache.”

Sahota didn't say anything, but when he knelt to pick up the flashlight, she took it as a yes. Joy left the room in a hurry, taking a deep breath as soon as she'd gotten a good few meters away from the door. Sahota handed her the flashlight, a folded piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

“Check what we have. See if it's necessary to explore further.”

Joy nodded, scanning page one. It took a few attempts of reading the first line before the words actually stuck; her mind was still bouncing between all the other topics of the day. The mystery of the lab, the mystery of Vic and Sahota, the fact that she still hadn’t finished her quest for Jericho… Fuck.

She forced her eyes into focus.

Your X4900 printer’s settings can be accessed by toggling the home menu.

Joy sighed. “This one's no good.” 

“And the next?”

She shuffled the page to the back. “This one… looks like a list of names?”

“Names?” He leaned over her shoulder. It looked like some kind of spreadsheet; names and dates and a shitload of scientific jargon.

Marian Sullivan. 08-12-097. 09-29-133. 10-16-133. Failed acclimation, occular failure, released.

Ahmed Faisal. 11-02-102. 03-10-134. 04-22-134. Failed acclimation, observed deterioration. Released.

It was a list of… what, test subjects? For the sixth sense, or something else? Joy scanned the names, doing a double take when she reached the bottom.

Hunter Harbor. 04-11-113. 02-28-136.

The next two spaces were blank, as if still waiting to be filled in. Joy glanced at the doorway they’d left, the burnt-out, destroyed room. It looked like Harbor was the project’s only success by a hundred miles. And somehow, that hadn't been a great thing. 

She swapped pages. The next seemed to be another piece of some manual, but after that… a collection of notes.

Construction largely consists of a bio-friendly silicon isotope; flexible and non-degrading. Interior electronics package is shown to be well-shielded against external factors. Centermost hollow houses Isotope G—

Joy paused, glancing back at Sahota. “Isotope G. You know what that is?”

“No.”

Definitely seemed like something worth finding out.

—designed to power implant, provided activation can be achieved. Extent of properties unknown, has been shown to emit a unique energy signature.

Joy sighed, shuffling the page to the back. “So Rotorworx is sticking shit in people's heads without fully understanding it. Is that a common thing with them?”

“Rotorworx has a history of not thinking things through. They prefer to look at results over consequences.”

Joy looked down at the next sheet. “Oh, here's more on the G stuff.” It was another set of handwritten notes, neatly penned onto a torn piece of notebook paper. This time, she read aloud.

“Properties largely unexplored, further research to be conducted ASAP. Full energization has been achieved on a microscopic level through ionizing Na-22 sample in proximity. Energization resulted in temporary visual phenomena that witnesses described as ‘otherworldly’. Energization of larger sample to be enacted ASAP.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You don't think… maybe they used this shit for the Reality Cage too?”

“We shouldn't assume,” Sahota said, taking the page from her and squinting at it.

“They said it was otherworldly,” she argued. “Even if it doesn't open portals or whatever, is that gonna stop Rotorworx from trying to use it that way?”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “Probably not.”

Joy glanced at the papers in her hands, once again face to face with the printer manual. “What was the one you grabbed? Have you looked at it yet?”

“Not yet.” He passed it to her, and she hit it with the beam of the flashlight. More handwritten notes, which so far, had been the jackpot.

1237 - Rate raised to .070 mSv/H, no change.

1300 - Rate raised to .071 mSv/H, no change.

1320 - Session terminated. Results inconclusive. Subject stable.

She re-read it aloud for Sahota’s benefit. “Milli-Sieverts,” she finished with disbelief. “They were straight-up zapping the test subjects with radiation.”

It seemed like the researchers were trying to energize the ‘larger sample’ while it was inside someone's head. Even though she knew this project had been shut down, Joy still cringed at the thought. She didn't have every piece of the puzzle, but the bits they'd found didn't paint a pretty picture. How had this been allowed? Why hadn't anyone stopped it before everything blew up in their faces? Literally?

She handed the page back to Sahota. “Think we have all we need?” she asked.

“Isotope G is a good starting point,” he replied, tucking the paper away. “It's more intel than we came in with.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Joy replied, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch. She'd really prefer not to spend any more time in this pit. She passed Sahota the flashlight and got to her feet, following the beam back the way they'd come. Once they reached the top of the stairs, she threw open the maintenance door with a dramatic shove. Ah, sunlight.

She held the door steady for Sahota. “You know what? That was fun,” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Really. Not every day you get to break into an abandoned lab and find weird shit. Fun.”

He let out a noise that might've been a laugh. Maybe. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Joy grinned at him, leaning back against the white cinderblock and casting one final glance at the papers she'd found, now slightly crumpled from their place in her fist. She could probably trash them as soon as they made it past the fence. Sahota had the important shit, and she doubted she'd ever own an X4900 printer.

But in the daylight, something caught her eye.

Joy frowned, smoothing out the stack before grabbing the first manual page. Turning it over, seeing nothing but manufactured words. Nothing new, what had she just..? Ah. The second page, something had been scrawled with a soft pencil in the margins on the back, hardly noticeable.

“Hey,” she said. “I think there's more here.”

These notes were hastily written, like whoever'd made them was smack dab in the middle of something and just needed to get it down. It took her a second to make out the words.

0918 - Rate raised to 10 mSv/H. Material appears to react. A spike of energy equivalent to 11 Joules is read on the monitor.

0923 - Rate raised to 25 mSv/H. Material shows a spike of activity, equivalent to 78 Joules. Increasing.

“Sahota..?” Increasing. They'd managed to energize the G shit then, at least a little. This… this must've been Harbor's test. She continued reading, this time out loud.

“0929 - Source energy appears to malfunction. Readings asymmetrical. Geiger tube alarm threshold reached. Advise shut down and reschedule test. 

0932 - Rate raised to 100 mSv/H. Material energization increases exponentially, reading 939 Joules.”

Sahota frowned. “And then?”

“That's all,” she said, feeling her eyebrows knit tighter together. “It just ends.”

A hundred milli-sieverts. She'd never gotten too deep into nuclear physics, but that was a lot, right? At the very least it wasn't a healthy amount of radiation for a human to be exposed to. And she knew Joules. Harbor'd basically had a microwave going off in his head. Joy clenched her jaw. Even if she was still pissed at the guy, she couldn’t imagine how that would’ve felt.

“This is what caused the incident, isn't it? They tried to activate the… whatever Isotope G is, and it backfired.”

Sahota had taken the paper from her and was staring it down. “We can't know for sure, but…”

“But you'd agree it's pretty likely?”

He nodded, a grim set to his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispered. It didn't surprise her that everything had gone so wrong. Popping energetic material into the human brain—even in the name of research—was a disaster waiting to happen. But if things had gone so wrong with something small enough to be implanted in someone's head, what could happen with larger quantities?

“Fuck,” she said again, louder, shaking her head when Sahota looked her way.

“We need to get to the Reality Cage as soon as we can,” she said.

“That is the mission,” Sahota replied.

“No, it's…” Joy shook her head again. “I think it's worse than we thought. I think…” She clenched her fists, tapping her knuckles against her thighs. “If Rotorworx is using Isotope G, if they're trying to fuck with it the same way they did here…” She looked him in the eye, setting her jaw.

“It's gonna be like setting off an atom bomb in the middle of the city.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[thechaoticfanartist]

The Clone Wars Gets A New Victim, Part IV: The Storm

darkness coats the galaxy, the light has lost. everything is gone.

The final part of TCWGANV started posting one year ago today!

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @shinhatigf @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @aiylasdrawings @keoxus @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @it-was-rose @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi @arrthurpendragon @shrinkthisviolet @doodlebugs-and-doodleart @thebrainofocto @forloveofcodywan

[beachyserasims]

Cass and Rowan got up early cause the baby needed some breakfast! They headed down to the Sand Bar & Grill where Cass caught a good look at another fine catch <3

Soon they will be parents!!

Beginning / Previous / Next

[victorluvsalice]

The reason I didn't queue anything today -- I wanted to wait until I could put this up. Hope you all like massive amounts of exposition! :D

[nebuladreamz]

FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fanart for @restinsodaroni's fic, Forever Friends! YOUR HONOR IM INVESTED

Non fucked up color version below/kind of transparent below

[2-sleepy-for-this]

SBI au’s

hey everyone, of course everyone knows what I’m talking about when I say that recent events regarding a certain Cc has put me in a situation.

I am 100% on Shelby’s side

#shelbysupportsquad

however, this news has made me very conflicted, as my most popular au, our little brother, has been mainly crimebois based… I don’t want to take down the parts of this fic I have out so far, I also don’t want to stop writing for it completely.

I understandably feel proud of my work as it was the first fic I ever started on, and I know the feeling of an au you enjoy being deleted.

so, I’ve decided that for the foreseeable future, our little brother will have some changes to future plot, in the next chapter I will give an excuse for the absence of his character and this fic will now be focusing on bedrock bros, along with the other characters I originally planned to add in.

I am still reeling from the information that came out so I won’t be posting for a little while as I clear my head but I hope that all of you are doing okay. Everyone has the right to feel hurt and upset right now. Goodbye for now, folks.

[vinbee631]

Prodigal Sons and Daughters Alike

Hey!! Welcome to the masterpost for my contribution to the @tss-storytime Big Bang! This is one of the biggest projects I've ever completed, and the biggest one I've ever posted, so I really hope you enjoy it!

With that being said, chapter links under the cut! I'll be posting a chapter a day on AO3, so I'll be adding those links as I go!

The art inspired by this fic, made by the lovely @nandysparadox

AO3 Link

1 - I’m Never Gonna Not Dance Again - Prologue ~ Welcome to Sanders Academy! And welcome, the creativitwins

2 - I Can Show You the World (I Can Show You this Classroom) ~ Who would have thought school could actually be- not awful?

3 - What Is This Feeling? (So Sudden and New?) ~ Making friends is surprisingly easy and also Roman please calm down it's only the first day

4 - On the First Day of Mock School (My Roommates Gave to Me…) ~ Waking up is hard, at least they have each other now!

5 - Opening Up, Letting the Day In, Pour You a Cup and Say “Hello, How Ya Been?” ~ Now that they've all met each other, things get complicated (in a good way, they're just middle schoolers)

6 - You’ve Got a Friend in Me (But Maybe Not Him) ~ Remus makes new friends! Patton, not quite, but he's working on it!

7 - Ever Since I Was a Kid, I’ve Been a Brooding Basket Case  ~ One stereotypical melodramatic teenager coming right up! (Now featuring a little more trauma than is strictly necessary for a thirteen-year-old prodigy!)

8 - Forgive Me If I Boast… On the Subject I Love Most (Getting to Know You)  ~ Remus' persistence is highly admirable, but Virgil is not entertained.

9 - Why Do You Look at Me When You Hate Me? ~ Virgil is confused, and possibly has more unresolved trauma. Remus does not do art, but for once is okay with this fact

10 - Intermission: How Would You Like a Friendly Competition? (Let’s Take On the Song)  ~ The twins are very competitive, but also very close. Remus gets a well-deserved break.

11 - I Feel Badly About You Feeling Badly About Me, Feeling Badly About You   ~ Remus talks it out, and gets some sound advice.

12 - Looking for Something Worth It (The Algorithm is Perfect)  ~ Conversation One: Virgil and Logan are now study buddies

13 - The Bar Isn’t the Best Place to Find Advice, Thank God We’re In the Hallway ~ Conversation Two: Janus is snarky, and apparently, so is his roommate

14 - You Know Time Crawls On When You’re Waiting for the Song to Start  ~ Conversation Three: Roman has good taste in music, but bad taste in movies

15 - I Don’t Need No Love (All I Need Is a Sugar Rush) ~ Conversation Four/Existential Crisis: Baking Edition, feat. Patton

16 - Fear or Love, Baby? Don’t Say The Answer (Actions Speak Louder)  ~ Conversation Five: Remus' biggest mistake

17 - Being Back Here Makes Me Hot in the Face ~ Conversation Six: Good God these boys need therapy.

18 - It’s the Story of One Who Turned from Hating (The Man Who Only Learned to Love) - Epilogue  ~ There is no official conversation seven, but things work out anyway. At least, Virgil thinks so.

aand, that's all folks!

[nopeferatu]

Jack raised his arm to brace for impact. “Please don’t—!”

Ennis stopped dead in his tracks. He wondered if that’s what Earl had said, too, before the tire irons had come crashing down. Then he blinked, registered the terror welled up in Jack’s big blue eyes, the red that oozed from Jack’s nose and painted his own fist. A noise like a sob bubbled up from his throat when he knelt to the ground and watched Jack back away from him, expecting another blow.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, darlin’,” Ennis rambled, pulling Jack close and holding him in his arms. He pulled away to steady his face between his hands, studying the wounded area. Jack was breathing hard through his mouth. His big front teeth were stained red where the blood dribbled past parted lips and pooled at the top gum line. He looked dazed. He closed his eyes when Ennis brought his sleeve up to staunch the bleeding, clearly pained, and when he did Ennis saw the wetness that collected along his dark lashes. He brushed the droplets away with his thumb. Instinctually, Jack leaned into the touch, wanting his comfort from the same man who’d hurt him into needing it at all. The gesture nearly tore another sob out of Ennis’ throat, for he knew well how it had gone when their roles had been reversed all those summers ago; the only time he’d ever hit Jack in his life was now the first. He couldn’t have hated himself more if he tried.

Even after the bleeding had stopped the two continued to sit there like that for a short while, Jack half in Ennis’ lap, head lolling in Ennis' palm, until Ennis could trust his voice enough to speak without breaking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his thumb across Jack’s cheek.

Jack closed his eyes again when he spoke. “’s okay,” he said, though his voice sounded thick and funny, and he knew Jack felt every syllable throb deep within the caverns of his nose. “’m sorry I done what I done.”

Ennis wanted badly to kiss him, even if it would taste like a mouthful of pennies, but knew he could not do so without hurting Jack even further. Instead, he moved to press his lips to Jack’s forehead. Ennis heard his shaky sigh, then felt the familiar weight of forearms on his shoulders and hands clasped tight behind his neck.

[rockingrobin69]

Have I got some news: you can now find Robin’s Flufftober also on AO3! Ficlets will be cross-posted on both, so you can choose whichever is more convenient should you wish to follow the series. So far featuring: 

Sugary-perfectly-sweet, where Draco is losing his absolute mind with frightened happiness

Portrait-level desperate, where pining Harry has to suffer through a party, so help him

As-you-wish, featuring some of the worst-best couples costumes for Halloween

Try, life in a cottage at the edge of the forest is reported blissful

Buttery Sweet, with accidental confessions and pastries 

Lighting Up, where electrical mishaps turn into grand gestures

Ridiculous(ly perfect), movie night galore (soft soft pyjamas!)

Aglow, nesting in the middle of nowhere (hurt/comfort)  

Game On, Draco in a skirt/ Harry in pro uniform doing stretches 

Brewed out of control - part 1, where no one is actually in control and the pining turns severe

Brewed out of control - part 2, where they, er. confront it    

Keeping, where gentle is frantic and full full of love

Practice makes - erm, Draco’s on a mission and will NOT be derailed

Any Way, about insecurities and being taken as is

By Accident, where even obliviousness won’t stand in love’s way (eventually) 

A Quiet Fall(ing into place), a surprise nap and tooth-rotting fluff

Barking, never let a man do a dog’s job

Frightfully true, Werewolves and power dynamics and soft soft

and more to come! Hopefully! 

Find Robin’s Flufftober 2022 on AO3!  

[trevorendeavors]

December 6, 2022. To all those on A03 who’ve waited patiently for chapter 4, I do apologize for the wait. It’s still in production, but while y’all waiting, have this and a preview of Hexsquad Among Humans: Perils of a Realm Beyond the Boiling Isles | Chapter 4: The Dinner:

—

“Luz showed me her ancient human archive of knowledge, the wiki! I memorized the passage on the creation of apple juice,” Gus bragged, as if it were the words of some ancient scroll he’d recited and not the encyclopedia that every once in a while was tweaked to say the moon was in fact made of cheese. Library databases were more reliable sources of information, but Luz could barely figure out how to navigate those and so she hadn’t introduced him to them yet. She’d promised herself she’d get around to showing him those when she was competent enough not to embarrass herself in front of him. That day never came, and so he was stuck with wikis that were only surface level.

“Yeaaah,” Vee scratched behind her head. “You always gotta double check what you get from there. Anyone can edit that to say whatever they want.”

“…oh.”

“If you want more reliable info, the local library’s a pretty good source.”

“You have those here?” Amity perked up, “That’s right… the human bookworms!” She turned to Luz. “Maybe sometime we can go see them, right?” Hearing her genuinely a little enthusiastic was so sweet. Titan, did Luz wish it was under any other circumstances than the ones they just came from that they ended up in the human realm. Maybe then they could’ve had that mundane slice-of-life date she promised and not have the destruction of the isles on their mind.

<i>Still, a trip to hit the books might be in order. </i>

History books and old spell books were likely the best place to search for leads on getting back to the isles. Even if the information was bound to be vastly inaccurate. All the sources Luz had ever had on magic before - whether from ancient myths, fantasy books, or online forums - had been wrong to a degree. Not even the databases were guaranteed to have reliable information. How could they when all humans had to go off of were leaks from another world and not firsthand experience? Then again, maybe humans <i>had</i> traveled there and back again but to different regions. <i>Or maybe even different titans.</i> It wasn’t impossible, as long as Titan blood leaked into the right puddles of water at the right location. Even then, narratives weren’t guaranteed to be accurate. Philip was - <i>once was</i> - living proof that humans tended to distort the truth of magic intentionally. Finding a way back was going to be like finding a needle in a mountain of unreliably documented haystacks.

“Luz?”

A gentle squeeze of her arm brought her back to reality. It occurred to her she hadn’t replied verbally or via text to her girlfriend’s suggestion. Without thinking she mumbled, “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

Amity frowned.

— END OF PREVIEW

Comment below if you’d like to be on a tag list!

@cozytealeaf93

[spoofaloofa]

some octonauts doodles i forgot to post

[intomybubble]

God its been so long i forgot she has a shitty older sister (and enabling parents) no wonder shes so desperate for her dead ghost boyfriend’s love

Edit: ok this is in her head, but its sorta how she sees him and its not really a healthy mindset… They do seem to care for each other when hes not possessed by some other entity? But like girl there are so many red flags with his ghost-status

[theriverwild]

Kingdom of Rust

Ch. 21) All is Calm, All is Bright, All is Cold

Yes, it's Christmastime in prison!

WC: 10.8k; rating: E for smut and adult themes

[transmasc-malleus]