#wheezing electric screeching

[wrencatte]

i haven't really liked anything i've tried to write recently, but here's a wip i started...an hour ago. the goal is to get Cal buried alive but idk if im actually gonna get it maneuvered in that direction. please ignore any spelling mistakes. it's 540am and i haven't slept yet.

Cal reaches for the ware at BD-1’s insistence. The droid is endlessly fascinated by organic-made designs and this one is especially interesting. He’s smiling, laughing even, as he goes to pick it up, only to have his arm snatched up in a crushing grip and yanked sideways. Cal’s too shocked by the suddenness to react properly before the large, imposing alien lifts his arm to their eye-level, puling Cal all the way to his toes. BD-1 screeches as he tumbles off his shoulder.

“I knew I recognized that ident,” the alien snarls, then lifts Cal even higher until he’s not even touching the ground, his shoulder protesting holding all his weight. “Scrapper Guild. You lookin’ to steal some ships? Scrap them to the guild to claw yourself outta that hole you shoved yourself into?”

Reality reasserts itself at Scrapper Guild and Cal finally shouts, clawing at the grip on his arm and kicking out a foot, shoving it against the alien’s chest with a boost of the Force, but his focus is twisted around itself, a cold panic in his chest and a pain in his bones as the grip turns bruising. The alien grunts, rocking back, but he just rights himself and shakes Cal like he’s prey in a rancor’s mouth – and with the same amount of strength. It dazes Cal enough his ears are ringing and his stomach rolls.

“I ain’t lettin’ you take our hard-earned ships and squander them like whatever the kark you did with your own money to end up with the Guild,” the alien says – and Cal can only think you don’t know anything about me before the guy grunts, “Shut that droid up. It’s karkin’ annoying.”

Cal twists enough to see that the alien has friends. And one of them has two hands around BD-1 and another set holding his legs together to keep him from activating his electro prod. “Don’t touch him!” he demands, tries to put some of the Force into it, like he’s felt Cere do sometimes. Tries to gather and probe and turn the thoughts around, but he doesn’t actually know how to do it, and the Force fizzles out. “Let me go!”

It’s embarrassing to be trapped like this. Feeling half like a fish on a line and half like a misbehaving child. He’s a Jedi Knight for void’s sake. Cal renews his struggle, but he can’t get the right angle to use the Force to shove the alien off him, and it becomes a pointless because something sparks in the background and BD-1’s beeps increase in both pitch and frequency. The hairs on the back of Cal’s neck stand on end before an electro-prod is shoved point blank against his spine.

Cal arches, mouth opening in a silent scream as his nerves are set on fire and his muscles contract, contorting his body in unnatural angles. The hand holding him up lets go with him still in the air and he drops like a stone, the only relief is that the electricity stops, and he can curl up in a pathetic ball, limbs still twitching with aftershocks. It feels like there’s a vice around his lungs preventing him from drawing in a full breath. A boot kicks him over onto his back and then settles on his chest. Cal lets out a painful wheeze at the pressure. His vision is blurry, but he can still see the way the guy leans over him, applying more of his weight onto him. He scrabbles, grabbing a thick boot incase ankle, knowing he’s powerless to relieve the pressure, but needing to act in some way.

“What do you wanna do with him?” someone asks, sounding very, very far away.

“Could report him to the Guild. There’s no branches around here. Sounds like someone’s trying to duck out of their debt.”

Cal’s lip curls before he can really stop it. The only debt he has is what the Guild’s been piling on him for years for every little thing they can think of. He was twelve years old and didn’t have a roof over his head or food on his plate or even a change of clothes, so the Guild graciously lent him the credits, putting his debt incredibly high right off the bat, but what could he do? Say no and let himself die to exposure or starvation? He didn’t meet Prauf until months after, didn’t move in until even later after he was sure he was someone he could trust. Any debt he has was for survival only.

“Oh ho ho, do you see that?” Cal chokes on a grunt when it feels like his chest is caving in, the weight becoming unbearable. “This one’s got some fire in ‘m. Check the bounties first, I bet he stirred up some trouble to get all the way out here with an intact indent.” The weight suddenly disappears, and Cal draws in a desperate breath, hand dropping to his tender chest as the boot moves to settle next to his head, mud squishing under the sole. “I got the perfect place to keep ‘im until then.”

[zaeliaeve]

ꜰʟᴏʀᴇꜱ [ꜱᴇʀɢɪᴏ ʀᴀᴍᴏꜱ] Chapter Four

DISCLAIMER: This is all fiction and inaccurate to real life. I don't speak Spanish so I am sorry for any mistranslations! :( 

2009

Real Madrid's first away match had been a success. Although, RCD Espanyol wasn't a big threat to them in the first place. They hadn't won any major titles in over a decade and had no superstar players. Espanyol was simply overpowered by the immense talent of Real Madrid and lost 0-3.

Catalina was once again in awe of Real Madrid. The team was somewhat in its infancy yet managed to bring raw electricity everywhere they went. It seemed from the outside that everything they touched would turn into pure gold.

Day by day Catalina was falling in love with not only her job but football as a sport as well. It was nearly impossible not to when it was what she was surrounded by most of the time now.

The journey to get to the stadium had been a frightful one at first for Catalina. The team had all gathered on a private jet to get to Barcelona for the game, and it was her first experience in a plane, let alone a private jet. To everyone else on the plane, this was just a regular day; they played cards with each other and slept like it was no big deal. Luckily, she was somewhat distracted on the flight.

"Is this your first time on a plane?"

Catalina's ghostly pale face lifted up from her camera as she glanced up at the superstar, her hand slightly trembling as she tried not to look out the small oval window beside her. "How could you tell?"

Karim let out a hardy laugh and pointed his thumb over to the girl, his eyes still on Cristiano. "She told me earlier she stayed up last night watching a plane crash documentary" Karim wheezed.

The Portuguese man cocked his head to the side in surprise, a confused smile creeping onto his face. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"I was trying to make myself feel better about today so I went on Youtube and typed in planes like an idiot. It sent me down a rabbit hole that I couldn't look away from" Catalina let out an exhausted sigh as she questions her past decision, trying not to replay the images of tragedies in her head.

Cristiano pouted his bottom lip out to the girl sympathetically.

Catalina clutched the metal in her hand and switched the settings off of video mode and into photo mode. "But do you know what would make me feel a lot better, Mr. Cover of Men's Health?" She asked, seeing the perfect opportunity to ask what she was scared she would lose the confidence for later.

Karim leaned forward in his seat beside her with interest, and Cristiano nodded his head forward insinuating for the girl to keep talking. "Can I take a picture of you for the official Real Madrid website?" Catalina asked, causing Karim to lean back in his seat when he realized it wasn't as interesting as he had hoped.

"Yeah, sure."

Cristiano then ran a hand through his black hair, smoothening the stray hairs back down into place. A half-open book rested in his lap, full lips upturned as he looked directly into the dark lens.

Click click click

"Perfecto! Te lo agradezco" Catalina grinned at him before glancing down at her camera to look at the picture.

Internally, she was screeching with excitement because her boss was always harping on her to get as many pictures as she can of Cristiano and Kaká because they didn't want to use any pictures of them in another team's kit.

Good lighting, and good quality. All she could have asked for.

As Catalina was looking down, she saw a pair of tan hands softly steal the camera from her loose grip. "Your turn," Cristiano told her as he switched back into photo mode.

Catalina looked confused but it clicked together once Cristiano held the metal up to his eye, one eye squinting from behind the camera. "It's your first time on a plane and you survived takeoff, this is something to remember. We can put this up on the facility fridge when we get back."

Karim waited for a second before chiming in, face straight as can be. "Assuming we don't die on landing, though."

The girl shrieked and rubbed her hands on her temples.

Cristiano waved his free hand in the air as if to clear all the bad energy, "Don't listen to him, we can use his big head as a lifeboat if we crash. Now, look here and say cheeeese" he joked,  only using his accented English for the last half.

Ironically Catalina felt awkward and uncoordinated in front of the camera, not knowing what to do with her hands or face. She decided to just clasp her hands together and flash the camera a wide smile before mimicking the phrase back to him.

Click

"Estas guapa con la ropa de Madrid!" Cristiano gushed loudly. He handed her back the camera with a grin still on his face. (in English:  you look pretty in the Madrid clothing)

The team headed back to the nice hotel on a large bus, cheering and yelling with pride the whole ride there. They sang songs in Spanish chants that the newer players still hadn't learned all the lyrics to, so they just made noses that somewhat resembled the language. Catalina shot every stand-out moment she could, thankful it was photos and not videos due to the harsh critiquing of the opposing team from the staff.

Sergio moved throughout the bus so he was directly in front of the camera lens, lifting up the crest on his kit until it met his lips and pumping his fist into the humid air joyously. Catalina snapped pictures of the defender, smiling so much her cheeks were starting to ache.

Within a few moments, Sergio leaned over the seats and tangled one hand in Catalina's wavy hair softly to bring her closer. Catalina complied and leaned into his body, shivering as he pressed his lips against her ear. "You're wearing our clothes" Sergio noted slightly loud so she could hear over the noise, tone surprised yet still happy.

"Do I look too cheesy? Am I eligible for the Real Madrid fan club now?" Catalina half-joked, reversing the roles and speaking into his ear so he could hear without the chanting drowning it out.

The corner of Sergio's eyes crinkled as he laughed before shaking his head, backing away to get another full look at her. "It's good. You look like a librarian that got the night off."

Catalina laughed confusedly unsure what he meant but not pushing it further. "Are you going out for drinks with us later? I highly doubt you drink though" Sergio asked, hands now clutching the back of the seat.

Drinks?

Unsurprisingly, he was right. Catalina was not much of a drinker. Maybe the occasional drink here or there on holidays but nothing close enough to get her drunk. A few sips at most. She found herself wanting to challenge this notion, even if it meant chugging a whole bottle of champagne if she had to. In her mind maybe being able to break out of her prudish ways could prove herself a little bit cool.

"What do you mean? I drink all the time. Of course, I'll go." She put on a relaxed tone but it came off more forced than she had hoped and she hoped he hadn't noticed.

Sergio grabbed his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I'll let you know when we're gonna leave. Put your number in"

Catalina let her camera hang off of the thick strap on her chest as she tapped on his screen. She reread it over one more time before handing it back to him. Sergio smiled at her before typing something and pressing send.

The back of her jeans vibrated with the notification, she reached into it quickly to read the message. "See you tonight then," Sergio told her before moving back to his original seat, now joining back into the celebrations.

You're a bad liar, conejita :P

Getting ready proved to be a challenge. She didn't pack much at all because she didn't anticipate going anywhere besides the stadium, and maybe a casual breakfast the next morning. Fortunately, she had a casual sun dress. It was her hair and makeup she struggled the most with given her resources, but she made due.

Catalina waited hours anxiously waiting for a message from Sergio. She tried to distract herself by watching the shopping channel on TV, plucking her eyebrows, or going through every picture she had taken recently on her camera. As she began to give up hope, her screen lit up as his unsaved number popped up.

Everyone else fell asleep or doesn't wanna leave their rooms :/ You still down to go with just us? It wasn't even a question in her mind. Within 30 seconds she had typed out

How else am I supposed to show you that I'm the better drinker?

Sergio responded not too long after that. 

In ur dreams. Meet me in the lobby in 45 mins. The bar is a quick walk. 

Sergio's lips upturned as Catalina pressed her lips to the glass hesitantly, the reality of the situation settling in now that the pungent smell of alcohol filled her nostrils. "Are you sure you can swallow it all?" He watched her carefully as she tried to put on a brave front.

Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?

The anticipation of Sergio's waiting eyes was killing her, so she tilted her head back and relaxed her throat; letting the cool liquid flow down as Sergio cheered beside her. "¡Vamos!"

An empty glass hit the table as she raised her arms in victory, her throat and chest hotly burning as a reminder of the liquid poison. Sergio let out a hardy laugh as she screwed her eyes shut and stuck out her tongue at the taste, groaning with disgust.

His tanned hand rubbed her upper back soothingly. "You took it well, I have to say I'm surprised."

Catalina shook her head as she wiped her shiny mouth, knowing her reaction wasn't smooth by any means."Maybe you just like watching me struggle."

"Maybe" he repeated back with a shrug.

The waitress placed Sergio's tequila on the wood surface in front of him. Catalina secretly hoped that he would at least make a grossed-out face when he took it, but he didn't. In stark contrast, Sergio swallowed his drink easily, with only a slight shiver when the drink was fully finished. "I hate you so much" Catalina whined when he looked back to her as if nothing had happened.

His face remained completely unphased. "No, you don't."

Catalina nodded eagerly, the burning in her body causing a small confidence boost she didn't have moments ago. "Yes, I do. I promise I do."

Sergio didn't say anything else as he took the alcohol-soaked lime out of his empty glass and placed it on her full lips. Catalina froze momentarily, unsure of what to do. "Open" he instructed, eyes heavy as it met hers.

Catalina listened without question, lapping the center of the bitter fruit with her saliva; trying to ignore the consistent heat in her chest in an attempt to please him. Sergio watched her contently as he brought one hand to her head, patting it with praise. "See? You don't hate me at all."

The now lifeless lime sunk back into the glass.

Suddenly meeting his gaze felt more difficult, so Catalina shifted her pupils over to the glass bottles on the shelves. She could feel her cheeks heating up, and this time not from the liquor. "I want a shot" Catalina murmured, hoping the liquid could calm her.

Sergio laughed to himself before raising his arm to get the waitress's attention again, this time ordering a few drinking for the both of them. Catalina took his arm into her hands when she noticed purplish markings scattered all over the limb. "Are these from football?" She asked, scanning his bruised flesh with her fingertips softly.

"No, some of them are from when I fell off of horses and landed awkwardly" Sergio explained, his skin rising a bit underneath her fingers.

Catalina's eyebrows knitted together, lips frowning a bit. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

Now it was his turn to frown, cocking his head slightly. "Why would I be sarcastic about that?"

"I just couldn't picture you in nature. I love horses though, so that's a nice surprise. I thought you'd be the type to be like grrrrr nature is for wimps. I only like football and fast cars. Oh and getting red cards. " She impersonated him, putting her voice as deep as it could go which wasn't deep at all.

Sergio's laughed and looked at her knowingly "Ah so you must have been googling me."

Catalina pinched her fingers together. "Un poco."

His knuckles moved to her face and gripped onto her cheek, pulling at it playfully. "So you really are a fan, huh?" he asked as she squealed from the pressure of his hand.

"I'm more of a Cristiano fan, actually" she gasped out in-between giggles.

The grip of his knuckles got fairly tighter at her words, causing her to laugh harder and grasp at his hands. Sergio let go quickly, his eyes brightening as he watched her wipe away tears from the corner of her eyes due to her laughing fit.

"It is really cool you get to ride horses, seriously. I've only been a few times when I was younger and I absolutely loved it. It's hard to come by in the city, though" Catalina told him earnestly as she calmed down.

The waitress sat down a few glasses down in front of them and they thanked her with a smile. Sergio held his drink out to cheers, and Catalina followed clinking the glass together. Before he could say anything, Catalina swooped in with a wide smile. "To Cristiano Ronaldo!"

Although they drank about equally, the alcohol affected Catalina much more as she was new to drinking and also weighed less than him. It was quickly revealed throughout the night that Catalina is a happy drunk. Suddenly everything was good in the world to Catalina, no such thing as embarrassment or worries.

Sergio felt a lot more grounded; acting as the guide to make sure nothing bad happened to the newly intoxicated girl. Catalina had danced a bit on the dance floor with some random girl, drunkenly swaying off-beat to an Aventura song.

Lost in the moment, Catalina's dress started to lift up as she danced. Sergio's blood rushed as a thin man tried to slip in between the two dancing drunk girls. "Si la tocas te rajo la garganta, coño" Sergio stepped in quickly, pushing the man with his palms.

"¿Estás jodidamente loco?" He huffed to the frightened man.

The man instantly backed away, promising he didn't want any problems. Sergio scowled at him as the man practically sprinted to the other side of the room, far away from the girls. Catalina hadn't even noticed the man, still laughing with the random girl about absolutely nothing.

Sergio bent down and pulled Catalina's dress back down. "Por favor, ten más cuidado" he whispered into her ear, causing her head to lean back into his touch.

She spin around and wrapped her hands around his neck, leaving the random girl alone. "Dance with me, Sergio" Catalina slurred as she batted her eyelashes.

Sergio's stone demeanor melted a bit as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "You know you aren't even dancing Bachata right?" 

Catalina nuzzled her face in his shoulder, clearly not engaging in anything he was saying. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her close. They swayed back and forth as they clutched onto each other tightly, only pulling away after the last cord of the song was finished. "You smell good" she mumbled into his shirt.

"Do you want to go back now? We have an early flight tomorrow" Sergio asked, arms still loosely wrapped around her.

Catalina's sheepishly nodded, eyes half closed from exhaustion after the long day they had both had.  "You can barely keep your eyes open, poor thing" Sergio sighed, gazing down at her bloodshot eyes.

Sergio lifted her up with ease and Catalina sighed with relief as they left the establishment. All he could hope was no one on the staff catching them in the lobby, as he didn't feel like having to explain himself to anyone.

In the short walk back to the hotel, Catalina had fallen asleep in his arms as he expected. Not wanting to wake her up nor wanting to dig through her clothes, he used one arm to get his room key and set her down on his bed gently, throwing the big comforter over her.

Sergio's own exhaustion had begun to hit from the long day. He stole one of the blankets from the bed and nuzzled up onto the small couch, falling asleep almost as soon as he hit the cushions.

A/N: AHHHH this took me so long to write I had writer's block but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out! I've rewritten it many times and now I've been writing for like 4 hours straight so I'm good with this version! Initially, this was going to be VERY different haha. I really hope you enjoyed it! Any comments are welcomed and truly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[bee-barnes-author]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @tabswrites!

Tagging: @vivrune @violeaes @amandacanwrite @following-the-drum @pheita @milkhoney531 @jezifster

ONE (An Anomaly of Faith)

My hands were shaking as I brought my joint to my lips once more. Some primal part of me must have recognized what I had stumbled across and was trying to warn my stupid, modernized brain about the dangers ahead. I didn’t listen. Maybe I was too stoned to realize what my body was trying to tell me, or maybe I heard every blaring alarm and recklessly tossed them aside. I don’t think that matters so much, considering I followed the path of liquid gold that stained the too-tall grass in a horrifying mimicry of the Yellow Brick Road.

TWO (An Anomaly of Faith)

I didn’t believe in monsters sober, but I guess when I was stoned I did. It was that same primal feeling deep in my gut. Keep the cherry lit, that feeling whispered to me. Not in words, but in feelings. Sensations. The way kids would slam off the basement light switch and bolt up the stairs, knowing deep in their gut that darkness meant danger, and that it was nipping at their heels. An instinct that modern day buildings with modern day electricity had tricked us into thinking was a childish behavior and not a lifesaving understanding that had been cultivated over millennia for the propagation of our species.

THREE (An Anomaly of Faith)

I did my best not to focus on the fact that there was no burgundy mess staining the wood, no red on the grass, not even a drop of scarlet poured from the attempted gutting. No, what came out of that sucking wound was nothing but the most vibrant gold I had ever seen. The same as the smear that had led me here. The only red was the cherry burning at the edge of my joint, which had fallen from my fingers and onto the dewy grass, lit end facing towards the sky like a stick of smoldering incense.

FOUR (Dying on the First Date)

His lips make a wet squelching noise when he breaks the seal his mouth made against my neck. He’s breathless, and I feel him panting on my cheek. I want to gag at the stinking copper moisture of his mouth.

FIVE (Dying on the First Date)

We sway out of sync with the music. Just the two of us lovers caught up in our own little world. He spins me and a laugh like crystal echoes in my head. He’s killing me. My handsome date works his jaw to bite deeper into my flesh. My left arm twitches violently and I knock over a wine glass. It crashes to the floor. Shatters into a puddle of shards and red wine. My date tangles his fingers in my hair possessively, and my skin crawls with disgust.

SIX (Warden of the Damned)

There was another part of her, though. The part that was more of a savage animal than a human. That part sent her into a frenzy. The moment one of those awful prickly, hairy legs came within reach, Elida lashed out. She had never even thrown a punch before, but she felt the centuries of warrior kings in her blood. She was feral as she clawed and kicked. The daemon surrounding her screeched, and one leg pierced her thigh to pin her in place. Elida wailed in pain. Her mind quickly felt stuffed full of cotton. When she looked down at her wound, she saw the spider leg was worming its way inside her and breaking down into smaller tendrils to spread further.

SEVEN (Warden of the Damned)

Before the organs could go cold in her palm, she shoved as much into her mouth as she could fit. She barely had to chew the soft meat. She could just swallow the chunks whole and they would slide down her throat like butter. At first she thought the gurgling noise was her stomach protesting the quantity she was imbibing. It turned out to be the daemon below her dying, “Filthy…” It wheezed, “Rotting, human…” Elida paid it no mind. She bent over and placed her mouth around the wound she had made and sucked. The cravings had not left her and she was loath to abandon her source. She groaned happily at the stream of blood that flooded her maw. The daemon under her thrashed a final time and rattled out its last breath

[echostalker]

Goblet Of Fire Meets Musical

“Let me go! Let me go!”

Harry’s head shot up in alarm at a very familiar voice. It was the voice of someone he hadn’t talk to in three days.

“I bloody swear George!” Four seats down from where he sat, stood Ron Weasley (the very boy…them? Ron once mention that he didn’t feel much like a boy a year ago as they shared the bed in the nurse’s infirmary. Both completely tired and full of trauma that was Harry’s father and friends drama; clutching onto each other over close calls.) struggling against his brothers. Pearly white teeth bared in hot coals of inferno rage. Freckles that Harry love to count during History of Magic disappearing under burgundy red blush. “Fred! Get Off! I’ll tell mum! I will, you’ll see!”

The green eyed teen, now know as the fourth campion in the triwizard tournament, quickly struggled to get up on his feet. Unadulterated panic ran throughout his veins to his weak heart (anything that made his Best Friend cry out send him into a frenzy) as if it was in a race. Gasps of shock and whispers of confusion filled the half full dinner hall. His eyes never leaving the struggling form of the youngest Weasley son even as his large heavy glasses start to slide off his face.

“Come now Ronnnie!” George cackled pulling his little brother closer.

“We just want a bit of a chat.” Fred tittered with what sounded to malice glee to onlookers’ discomfort. “Truly ickle Ronnikins! You act like-”

“We’re going to do something untowards! How cruel.”

“How boarish.”

“Hurts. Right here.”

“In the heart.”

“But being cruel is what he’s good at, ain’t he Gred?” Fred asked in mock jest as he starts to pull out what looked to be one of the twins new product. Ron’s electric blue eyes widened as they start to glow white in fear, his struggling becoming frantic. “Being jealous of our poor little Potter.”

Ron stilled in confusion. Harry watched as pale chapped pink lips mouthing the word ‘jealous’.

“That there, you be right Feorge.” George agreed grabbing his captive brother’s chin tightly. Glee filled his body as it always done at the thought of playing a tiny prank at their bother. “Maybe he can pent a bit by helping us with this new product?”

“Oh yes my dearest twin. What an excellent idea! Come Lil’ickle Ronnikins! Help us test out our new Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Party sing n’ dance!”

Ron let out a shout of terror as he renew his tussle to get away from his childhood tormentors. He refuses to be a guinea pig for them once again against his will. Electric blue eyes, nearly white, looked around for help. He could see couple of students from the other schools race out of their seats to get to him from the laughing Slytherin and gossiping Ravenclaw tables. Even Harry (probably realizing that sending the twins at him like a pack of bloodhounds was a bad idea. For being jealous. Jealous! Honestly, where did he get that idea? Jealous.) was staggering their way.

“Hé! Laissez-le partir!” A red wine haired teenager girl from Beauxbaton snarled as she snarled. She whipped out her reddish-gray wand and called out a spell. “Libération!”

Everyone waited with bated breath as pastel red flash of energy shot out of the girl’s wand and hit the closes arm. They watch as Fred’s arm spasm, causing the large truffle size ball to smack into the youngest male Weasley’s cheekbone. Watched as it exploded and cover all three males in a bright nova colored cloud. Red wine haired teen let out a surprised squeal as she clasps her hands to her mouth in shame.

“Ron!” Harry cried out, floundered toward them impulsively. His only thought was to get to his sunset red haired boy. “Ron talk to me!”

Coughing was his only answer.

That was before a gust of heat like an oven pulse out as fire flared out to the ceiling. The students closes to the fire screech out, scrambling to get away. Harry himself took a few steps back, eyes blinking in discomfort. Once his eyes stop watering, he took in the sight of Ron’s hair doing its best to be a forest fire.

(“My family is blessed with fire.” Ron mumbled into his chest, sleep dancing in his voice. The slightly older boy rubbed his face into the other’s over-baggy pajama shirt. “Da’s da was said to be *yawn* from the third branch of the great Bear Queen. Fire has power over us in sum. Drag still hur’ thou.”

“Third branch?” Harry asked with a softest of tone, eyes to heavy with the sandman’s dreamer magic.

“Third child that had child of their own. ‘Tis a pure-blood thingy. Gotta be strong string to magik thou.”

“Hmm…”)

“You…” Ron snarled, hair getting brighter.

“Now Ronnie…” Fred stammered as he took a clumsy step backward, pulling George with him. “Let’s be calm?”

The younger twin squeaked as he clung to the other’s arm. “I thought only Charlie and Percy could do that.”

“Not now Georgie.”

“Ah, right Freddie.”

Soon an eerie sound of music filled the air.

The room started to darkened and chill.

Not a sound came from the only students and staff in the room as Ron took a calculated step towards his beloved brothers. His usually sweet, joyful face was now cold and stone. Eyes no longer glowing white with fear but with hot blue hell fire.

“It seems, difficult brothers will take advantage of my good nature.” Was hissed out, sending a shudder through all. A hand (a bruise starting to form at its wrist) slowly raises towards the cowering six years. “So lets lock them up.”

The fire from the fourth year’s hair slithered down his neck, across his arm and out his fingers like snakes. Zooming to the air as if it was a hawk diving for its prey. Fred and George screamed as the flames became solid, wrapping around them like rope.

“Throw away the key! I bet there’s one on every tree.” Lyrics coldly being song out through Ron’s lips. Allowing everyone to feel the anger, the hatred and the completely done emotion that was swirling like a whorlpool within the singer’s body.

Memorized by what was happening in front of him, Harry jumped as someone grabbed his robes. His head snapped to look behind him to see Hermione watching with horror.

“Ungrateful!” Came tearing out of Fred’s throat.

George followed after; “Hateful!”

“Vile too!” They sang together in stress.

Ron could feel his eyes roll as if he was playing a role in a story that he had no control over. He was enraged, that much was true but to embarrass his brothers like this? Well…he wasn’t the twins themselves. They were the arses and cruel ones in the family. He should know…fourteen years was enough to see that. “The thing they put me through. Break my spirit as they play! Making me into a silly display. Maybe you’d called wholesome play…”

Tears slowly snuck into his eyes.

“But I’ll call it cruel.” A sob threatened to escape from him; “Cruel love.”

Unwilling to breakdown and become even more of a laughing stock, Ron pulled out his own wand. With a shuddering gasp of air, he summoned the rest of the product. He knew that those….he didn’t know what to call them at the moment. Not that it matters to him right now. He was just too tired for this shite.

“I bloody hope you two know how to handle a sodding lawsuit in case some poor sod is allergic.”

Fred shaking his head to clear, he couldn’t help but question his brother. “Whatcha mean?”

Ron shot five looking truffles into the air, exclaiming; “Vehemens Ventus!”

The room bellow as the spell hit the products. A strong gust that could be considered as a tornado ravaged the arena. Smoke covering their eyes like a dense black fog and filled their lungs, suffocating like an uncontrollable forest fire.

“You want to play arseholes?” The cause of the chaos inquired forbidding. Blue flames glare at the trembling forms of the ones that started the path of the chaos causer. “ Hahaha fine. Game on…bitches.”

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

event denouement

A few miles outside of Blacklight, Barfok's legs decide to rebel against her. It's quite sudden-- one moment, she's walking, the next's lying face-down in a ditch. Herma-Mora is tickling her face sympathetically and her limbs are cold as ice and her poor, tired legs just aren't listening to her any more.

"Rise, Barfok," Herma-Mora prods her gently with a tentacle.

She sniffles-- her nose takes in ashy soil and she coughs pathetically. "I can't," she snivels, "It hurts."

"If you lie there," says Herma-Mora, with infinite patience, "You will... die."

"So let me die," she wheezes. "Let me choke to death here, on this... on this hateful ash!"

"Barfok..."

The tentacles are all around her, the afternoon light turning soupy and green, like algae in a pond. She whines and pushes her head into a tuft of spiky grass, clenching her eyes shut, feeling branches rake her skin. There's no pain in it, not compared to the screaming hotness of her burned back.

Even behind her eyelids he is there. "Barfok, rise."

"No! I'll die here, I'll die here."

"Rise."

"I want to die. I want to die. I want to die."

"Rise, girl."

"No! Leave me alone! I want to die here!"

"Look at me."

"I hate you. I hate you, you stupid squid meal. You stupid inky pile of dung. You slimy wretch. I hate you. Leave me. Let me die."

"Child of Atmora, look at me."

It is not Herma-Mora who roughly tugs away her coat. Nor is it Herma-Mora whose cold, calloused hands peel away the tunic from her broken skin. Barfok screams a guttural scream and thrashes, but there is a weight upon her, then, pinning her legs to the ground. She cannot see her assailant, but she feels her clothing stripped away from her, feels flames fresh upon her mutilated back, feels hands, prying, oh, gods, there's a hand on her--

"Let go!" Barfok screeches, kicking like a wild thing. "Let go of me! Unhand me!"

"Child!" someone who is not Herma-Mora replies sternly.

"Don’t hurt me!" Barfok yells, kicking out, lashing around blindly, "Go away, don’t touch me, don’t hurt me!"

"Girl--"

Barfok's hand finds an arm and she rakes her nails into it. Then, all at once, the weight rises from her. Wheezing, mouth full of ash, Barfok rolls to her side, then scrabbles frantically to lift herself upright. She manages to peel herself from the ground-- her arms collapse. Someone catches her.

She finds herself lying in the broad lap of a strange woman. "Kyne," she breathes.

For the apparition must be none other than Kyne. The woman now holding Barfok is tall, very tall, and strong, with lean and muscled limbs. Her face is broad and ugly, but her eyes-- her hooded eyes are blue-white, clear as glaciers, pale as the winter's coldest snow, and her hair-- her hair is red like old blood, long and loose and floating around her, thick with electricity. Her skin is pale, her lips thin and dry, the teeth beyond them yellow. The very bones of the earth bend away from her in fear.

"Kyne," says Barfok deliriously, "You've come for me! Yes, Kyne, oh monah Kaan, yes, take me to Sovngarde, take me to bormahi! Take me where the oxen roast and where it no longer hurts, take me back, take me back..."

The most terrible god amongst mortals frowns. "I am not Kyne," she says. "Have I wings?"

Barfok squints at her. "No," she rasps, "But you can take mine. I can feel them growing from my back. Oh, it hurts, it hurts so. Take those wings I'm growing."

"You are badly burned, little one."

"Is that what that is? The fire? Isn't that how a new forest grows? Oh..."

For, really, she got ash in her ruined back, and now that someone is holding her the wound is screaming with pain. She might have blacked out; when she wakes again she's lying on her side, and the thunderous god is behind her, rubbing something into the searing agony that is her shoulders.

"Who are you?" Barfok whimpers.

"I am Atmoran," answers the deity.

"Did Herma-Mora send you?"

"No. Do not breathe deeply."

"What are you called?"

"I am called many things. To the Nords I am Chemua. Brace yourself."

Barfok's world goes black again, and when her vision becomes something other than tentacles and eyeballs she's once more sitting upright, propped up in the woman's arms. She's shuddering all over from pain but the pain isn't bothering her any more. "Chemua," she mumbles, pronouncing it with a K- sound at the start.

"Tchemua," the woman corrects her.

"What did you do to me?"

"Bile of elf. A salve to replace the skin that was lost."

"That's gross."

"Yes." Content that Barfok might remain sitting on her own, Chemua moves around her, settles in front of her in an animal squat. "So," she begins, "Why is a daughter of Atmora dying in the east?"

Barfok certainly feels like she's dying. The earthbones are humming disconcerted  around her and her head is swimming. "Herma-Mora told me to," she answers pathetically.

The incarnate storm that is Chemua makes a contemptuous sound. "A Nord, then," she says. "Obedient you are. Like a sheep."

"Baaa," is Barfok’s feeble response.

"A domesticated animal," Chemua continues. "I should kill you as sacrifice, but Kyne loves not a domestic thing."

"Why are the qethsegolle afraid of you?"

"Because I hate them."

"What for?"

Chemua rises to her feet, glacier-eyes flashing. "For they are not Atmora," says she. "They are not the home that is lost to me. They dare to live when my home has died, and they are not home, and so I hate them. I hate this world, this vus, this task of Shor's. I hate it because I cannot leave it, and because I hate it, I vow to make it hurt. Do you understand?"

Barfok does not understand. She feels very confused-- and very dizzy, and very bashful-- but mostly confused. How can one hate Shor's work, when Shor's work is love, and made of love? How can one hear the qethsegolle and not love them? How does one peer into a candle and not have their face lit up?

Thoroughly perplexed, Barfok offers forth a "Baaa?"

Chemua snorts a laugh and it sounds like a gout of dragon-flame. "A Nordic answer." And, now thoroughly disinterested, she turns away.

"You helped me," Barfok says in wonder, as if that were any sort of argument. Then, "Can you tell me where to find Ysmir?"

This makes the Atmoran pause. "Go towards the mountain," she answers, meditative. "On the northern slopes there is an elven fortress."

"Baa. I mean, thanks. Do you really hate the world?"

"Yes," says Chemua calmly. "Very much.

"I love the world. I love the qethsegolle. Very much."

"No, you don't. If you loved it you would not wish to depart it."

Barfok can't even offer a baa to that. And then it doesn't matter; the pain creeps back, she loses her consciousness again, and when she comes to she's once more walking in shaky Herma-Mora guided steps, alone but for the daedra. And the next time her legs stop working, the next time Herma-Mora has to coax her back to standing, she finds herself whispering furious, indignant whispers: "I don't want to die!"  

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 7

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,297

Warnings: Description of a dead body, major character death (but technically you already know it happened, just not how it did...so...), heartbreak, major angst, a bit of fluff at the end, a couple familiar faces may or may not show up

Author Note: Seriously, you all are the best readers I could ever hope to have. The response to Part 6 was unbelievable and I can’t thank everyone enough for the support, especially when I continue to be evil and end the segments with such horrible cliffhangers. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 6 and Part 8

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Maker, your head hurts. 

It throbs angrily as if a mudhorn has impaled your brain on its horn. In fact, your whole body feels like one giant bruise. Grimacing, you take a deep breath, only to enter a coughing fit when you inhale a lungful of smoke. 

Cracking an eye open, panic seizes you when all you see is smoke. Ash gray and thick, it obscures your immediate surroundings from view. You can’t even tell if it’s night or day. 

What the kriff is going on?

Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you slowly sit up and feel pieces of grit and rubble dig into the tender flesh of your palms. A quick look shows no blood, soulmate mark unaffected, and you sigh a quiet breath of relief. But then worry starts to sink in when you realize you can’t remember where you are or what knocked you unconscious. Before you can spiral into a panic attack, the ground beneath you starts to tremble, causing the tiny fragments of gravel to wildly bounce around.

A shrill metallic screech pierces your ears followed immediately by a massive burst of vibrant orange flames erupting in the distance. You yelp, hastily pushing yourself onto your feet and start to run in the opposite direction, ignoring the howl of protest from your aching body. 

You can’t even see two steps in front of you, effectively ruining your attempt at a quick escape as you clumsily skirt around piles of debris that appear out of the smoke and threaten to block your way. Every breath is a wheeze, lungs making it painfully clear they cannot draw in enough oxygen from the smoky atmosphere to support your chosen pace. But the mere thought of dying here in this nightmarish inferno is enough to urge you to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as it simultaneously creates a tight, anxious knot in your stomach.

Another explosion detonates behind you. The ground quakes and groans, cracks appearing at an alarming rate as if the planet itself is being torn apart by the chaos. Your foot catches on one of the rifts, eliciting a cry of shock to tear itself out of your throat when you’re unable to reclaim your balance and plummet forward.

Except it’s not the ground that rises up to meet you. 

No. 

It’s a body. 

A dead body, to be precise. Burnt to a blackened crisp, as if the person had been dropped directly into a sun. Their skeletal features are frozen in an expression of torture, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. The stench of their seared flesh overwhelms your nostrils and ingrains itself in your brain, ensuring you’ll never forget the horrific smell for the rest of your lifetime.

Whimpering, you scramble backwards, curling your legs tight against your heaving chest. You look around, bile rising in your throat when you glimpse through the sea of smoke more charred corpses surrounding you. It’s as if you’ve stumbled upon a mass grave, and again the thought crosses your mind: what the kriff is going on?

You stand up, not wanting to linger another second in their presence, and continue moving forward, each footstep slow and careful as you maneuver around the bodies. The smoke is marginally thinner the further away you move from the fiery blasts, just enough for you to make out the faint outlines of collapsed buildings on either side of you, homes of families destroyed for reasons you don’t understand. Gut instinct keeps insisting that everything you’re seeing is wrong, that none of this destruction and carnage should have ever happened. 

Again, you attempt to string together your memories, forcing your brain to comply despite the pounding ache it produces in your temples. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a concussion. 

Details slowly start coming to mind, little and meaningless by themselves, but when put together form a grander picture. You came here to visit your best friend. ‘Here’ being a Mid-Rim planet with a ridiculously long and multisyllabic name you couldn’t pronounce then, and your poor head certainly can’t identify now. The transport flight had been long and you’d arrived later than anticipated, verging on late afternoon when you’d stepped off the craft. 

On your way to your friend’s house, the sun had abruptly gone dark. Everyone had stopped to look to the sky, yourself included. A light cruiser, kite-shaped and unmistakable, hovered directly overhead. Its presence was ominous, evoking the crowd of civilian spectators to murmur amongst themselves. 

Then its weapons unleashed a storm of hellfire.

Oh, Maker. How could you have ever forgotten the screams?

You’re pulled out of your dismal thoughts by the appearance of a dark shape ahead of you, its outline standing out as noticeably different than the surrounding rubble. Gradually, your brain starts to distinguish human features: a head, broad shoulders and limbs. 

It also occurs to you that they’re coming straight at you.

Before you can decide whether to flee or fight or do anything remotely conducive to increasing your odds of survival, the human-shaped blur barrels straight into you, hitting you with such force you instinctively grip onto their coat, just above their wrists, to keep from falling backwards. The feather-light grazing of the edge of your palm against their skin elicits a buzz of shocking warmth, as if you’ve touched a live wire instead of flesh.

It’s you, the thought pops into your head unprompted, like a fact you’ve always known since you were born. The feeling is breathtaking and electric, a lightning bolt striking the center of your heart. Every cell in your body is radiating exuberance and cheering: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you! The one I’ve been waiting for!

You’re pushed sideways, a small cry of surprise escaping your lips.

“Get out of my way.” It’s a masculine voice, sharp with impatience yet it wraps itself around your heart all the same. He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he continues heading in the direction you’ve been coming from.

“Wait,” you protest, because it’s not supposed to be like this. You’ve started shaking, from adrenaline or the shock of his dismissal, you’re not sure. 

The man pauses, keeping his back facing you. His dark clothes are conspicuously clean, and you can’t help comparing them to your own which are sooty and torn in places. For the second time, your gut instinct is telling you something is wrong, but this time you ignore it in favor of listening to the screaming of your heart urging you to never let this man out of your sight.

“We’re soulmates,” you say, desperate for him to stay.

His fingers curl into fists, the only forewarning you have before he snaps your heart in half as he mutters, “You could never be my soulmate.”

And then you’re watching as he disappears into the smoke, not once looking back to gauge the aftermath of his rejection. You had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that you and your soulmate would meet and live a long, happy life together until Death came to reap your souls. In less than thirty seconds, your soulmate had just cruelly crushed those dreams without either of you exchanging names or seeing each other’s faces.

Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Acting on impulse, you start running after him. If you can just have a second chance to make a better impression, maybe you can change his mind. Maybe you can convince him to accept you as his soulmate, agree to take your hand and never let go. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with you, deeply and profoundly, just like every soulmate pairing you’ve heard about.

 With a head full of maybes, you don’t even hear the bomb drop.

It hits the ground with a resounding thud, and then your world is an explosion of red and orange heat, consuming you whole without leaving behind any evidence you’d ever existed at all. Your vision shifts and blurs, memories of your lifetime flashing by too quickly to recognize each one, but through it all you hear a voice, his voice, echoing those dreadful words over and over again.

You could never be my soulmate. Never. Never. Never.

~~~

You wake up with a jolt, throat raw as if you really had been inhaling smoke. You’re drenched in sweat and you push away the heavy blanket covering you before realizing it is definitely not your blanket nor are you currently in your own bed. Looking around, panic begins to prickle along your nerve endings when you fail to recognize anything familiar about your location.

You’re in someone’s home, that much is obvious from the furnishings. The ceiling overhead is made of overlapping metal and is slightly rounded, reminding you of a cave or burrow. There is a lantern hanging on a nearby hook, but the light it emanates is dim compared to the sunshine pouring in from the four small, square-shaped windows cut into the wall behind you above the bed. The view through the windows is slightly blurry, but you can make out the blue sky and what you think is a corral of some kind. 

Rubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the lingering exhaustion, you’re surprised when your hand encounters something rough covering the side of your forehead. A bandage. Strange, you must have hit your head somewhere—

The past comes back in flashes: Din confessing his feelings, touching his hand, the spark of warmth, falling unconscious on the floor.

Where is Din?

“You are awake.”

The voice is expressionless and mechanical in tone, stating the obvious. Even so, you jump, not having noticed the droid sitting in the far corner of the room during your initial survey. Its red sensors and dark colored plating would make it look menacing if not for the tray it clutches in its hands, balancing cups and a pitcher.

“I am IG-11,” the droid says as it approaches.

“IG?” you echo hoarsely, sitting up with alarm. “As in one of those assassin droids?”

“I have been reprogrammed as a nurse.” It considers you for a moment, internal mechanisms whirring, and then the tray is held out closer for you to reach. “Tea?”

Hesitantly, you pour yourself some and hold the cup with both hands as you take a sip. The tea is warm as it slides down your throat, flavorful and far more exotic than the kind you’ve tasted back home in Umbriel. 

“Where am I?” you ask after you’ve swallowed two more gulps.

“Arvala-7.”

You blink, barely familiar with the name which only intensifies your worry about Din’s absence.

“Okay, but like, where exactly on Arvala-7?” you press, gesturing around the room. “How did I even get here?”

“Your current location is a moisture farm owned and operated by Kuiil,” IG-11 says, moving away to set the tray on a nearby table, though its head remains facing your direction. “Death brought you here unconscious with an injury to your central processing unit.”

“My central…” you trail off, squinting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yes. It was meant to put you at ease.”

“Right.” You nod to yourself, reaching a decision. Downing the last of your drink, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and make a move to stand. “This has been great, but I’ve really got to go find Death so—”

A wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. Kriff, you think, closing your eyes until you’re certain you won’t be seeing double anymore. 

“You won’t find Death here.” A new voice, crackling with age, informs you. His words are ominous, but his tone isn’t one of malice or ill-intent. 

Turning, you see an Ugnaught approaching from the entrance of the house. He stops beside IG-11, green eyes peering at you from beneath bushy white eyebrows, but you don’t feel threatened by his nearness. 

“I am Kuiil. Death entrusted me with looking after you until his return from Nevarro,” he says, sitting down upon a stool with his arms braced upon his knees. “You must continue to rest until you are well. I have spoken.”

You press a hand to your chest, feeling a pang of hurt at Din’s decision. “He left?”

“Death is bound by creed to the universe to reap the dead. Nothing, not even his soulmate, can be put before it.”

You choke on your spit. “Soulmate? We’re not—”

“Even if he had not told me,” Kuiil interrupts, unwilling to hear your dissuading opinion when he is certain of his own. “I would have known it from how he stubbornly stayed at your side and by how loathsome he was to leave you behind. In all my years, I have not seen him behave in such a twitterpated manner.” 

“He…” Your voice wavers, torn between hopefulness and disbelief. “He really told you we’re soulmates?”

Kuiil, reaching towards the table for the pitcher of tea, pauses and slowly turns back to look at you. “You were unaware of your matched connection with Death? Did you two not touch hands as most fated pairs often do?”

Any reply you might have said falters when you look down at your hands in your lap. More specifically, your left hand. The one Din had grasped.  The one that in your past life had brushed against your soulmate minutes before you died. 

Right there in the middle of your palm, innocently gleaming like it’s always been there and therefore isn’t at all responsible for the rapid increase of your heartbeat, is a soulmate marking.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​​, @theocatkov​​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster​

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon Chapter 19: Darker Yet Darker

<Previous / Next>

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None?

Chapter Summary: If Alphys is going to help the brothers overcome their inability to shift forms, she needs more information. Information that lies in the grim, long-abandoned sections of the lab she never knew about. The lab where the brothers were made.

Alphys breathed. In, and out. She meshed her fingers together, then snapped them outwards with a crackle. She picked up a hammer, a blowtorch, and lowered the welding visor over her eyes.

It was time to 'hack' into the abandoned labs.

Of all the floors listed on the elevator, all but two seemed to be operational--the entry floor, and the lowest, where she'd conducted her experiments. She'd wondered about the others, of course, but had never been able to verify that they existed. As far as she could tell, they'd been dummied out, so to speak--placeholders in the elevator's control panel that weren't actually connected to anything.

Thanks to a couple of skeletons, she knew that wasn't true. There were whole sections of her facility that had been sealed off, and who was she, as a scientist, if she didn't investigate? This was supposed to be her lab, what if there was important equipment to salvage? Not to mention the implications it might have for her friends. So she'd gathered her tools and her courage, turned off most of the elevator's safeties to keep its doors open, and began lowering it manually so there'd be no bypassing whatever floors lay between. Slowly sinking downwards, her heart leapt when a door finally rose into view in the dim light--but she quickly got to work.

The blowtorch hissed and sparked, and a clang announced it had done its work. Alphys shut it off and switched to the hammer, using it to knock the doors loose and slowly pry her way through. She could really use Undyne's muscles right now... Her strong, broad shoulders... those powerful biceps covered in glimmering scales... No! She could dream later. There were people counting on her. She wedged herself in the half-open door, braced herself against the other, and pushed with her leg. It grated open, and finally, she set foot on a floor it seemed no one had used for decades.

The landing was nondescript, lit by the weak emergency lighting she was familiar with. Even so, she exchanged the welding mask for a headlamp and flicked it on, illuminating the rest of the hall down to a doorway. She took a deep breath--and tried not to choke on the stale air. Even the ventilation system seemed to have been cut off here... She'd have to be careful. Gripping her hammer, she shuffled forward into the gloom.

A greyish-white mass erupted from the wall. Alphys shrieked, backpedaling so fast she tripped over her own tail. She landed on her back and rolled, scrambling on all fours for the elevator--and then she stopped. She recognized that electronic buzzing...

She turned, looking over her shoulder. "M-m... Memoryheads?"

The mass screeched, coalescing into a more familiar appearance, and Alphys turned over and sat as she tried to catch her breath. What were they doing here...?

"U-um, hi... you know you can leave the lab now, i-if you wanted," she said, slowly recovering from her nerves. "S-sorry I yelled, by the way, you just startled me. It's... k-kind of spooky down here, huh?"

The memoryheads buzzed like an old computer's disk drive.

"W-well, maybe not to you, ha ha... U-um... I sure hope you're the only thing lurking down here! I-I... I'm going to keep going now, okay?"

She got to her feet, brushed off her coat, and picked up her scattered tools before proceeding back down the hallway. She passed the memoryheads, and looked back to see they'd begun following her a few feet behind. What Undyne had shared about them popped into her head, and she had to wonder... Maybe they could help her.

"H-hey! So, I... I didn't make you, did I? You weren't part of my experiment."

A harsh grating sound emanated from the amalgamate. Oh, that's right--Alphys dug into her pocket for her phone. The speaker crackled with static, and she listened.

"NEGATIVE RESULT."

"O-Oh, that means, no, right?"

"That is correct."

"O-oh... Oh man... so my hypothesis... C... Can you... show me where you were made?"

"One moment, please."

The memoryheads phased through the floor.

"H-hey! I can't do that!" Alphys spluttered, then sighed. She should have known... the memoryheads were the more enigmatic of her charges... and they weren't even hers! What had she gotten into...?

"You may join us now," the phone suddenly crackled, and she jumped.

"Wh-where? What floor? What number?"

"666666666666666666666666666666666666--"

She shut the phone off, ending the harsh screech. Was there even a sixth floor? She turned back for the elevator once more--though she definitely wanted to check out all the abandoned labs had to offer, she had a priority. Back inside, she checked the panel--and there was indeed a sixth level. She'd head there, and could only hope the memoryheads actually had something for her.

A bang, clang, and scrape, and Alphys forced another set of doors open. The air here was even stuffier--a lingering chemical trace intermingled with decaying tile and carpet. She coughed, and hoped the air coming down the elevator shaft would be enough until she got the ventilation working. She'd take it slow until then.

"O-okay, I'm on the sixth floor, Memoryheads," she spoke into the phone, and static rose on the line.

"Come join the fun." "Come join the fun." "Come join the fun."

She sighed. They were helping, in their limited way. There was nothing for it but to venture into the dark, and see what she'd find. She shuffled forward, feet padding along warped linoleum--the first monster to tread these halls in years.

No.

Alphys' breath caught in her throat. There, in the dust--there were footprints. She swallowed hard, and followed them. The hall opened into a room, and she passed by rows of deteriorating machines. She could only guess at their purpose--all rotten rubber tubing, peeling paint, and oxidizing metal. Generators, perhaps. The footprints passed them by, and so did she. Another hall lead to another room, this one lined with all kinds of monitoring equipment, their paneling and readouts coated with years of dust and stained by a burst pipe. But nothing here seemed to have a means of storing information--there wasn't much to be gleaned here. So she continued on.

She finally came to a room that looked like a laboratory, with workbenches and cabinets on one side--and a pair of operating tables on the other. There was also some kind of device on the floor--it had been shattered by an incredible force. The footprints seemed to stop by it before moving on.

The next room made Alphys gasp--and not because the air was thin. It was U-shaped, and tall cisterns lined the walls, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling. The memoryheads waited here.

"Th... This is...?"

"It's a real get together," the memoryheads stated, apparently confirming her unfinished thought.

Alphys hurried over to examine the nearest tank, pouring over its construction. The craftsmanship, the expert tooling! What she wouldn't give for a set of blueprints or schematics or--a chill suddenly ran down her spine. No. This wasn't anything to get excited about.

She looked back up at the cracked glass walls of the tank before her. This was where the brothers had been... made. They'd both come from one of these--not sparked from a parent's soul like any other monster. If Gaster had stopped there, he might have been alright, but then he'd...

She turned back to the memoryheads. "C-can you show me... Do you know where the brothers lived down here? Sans and Papyrus?"

"Invalid statement. Please try again."

"Oh, you don't know... O-okay, I can figure it out. Thank you for leading me here."

"Our pleasure."

She nodded to them, and headed back the way she'd come. It seemed the owner of the footprints had done the same--but then had seemed to stagger... and then the trail vanished...? Weird...

Wait. Alphys squinted, and found a clear print. She placed her own foot beside it to compare. It was just a little smaller, left by rounded footwear... These were Sans' footprints. She should have known...! She sighed. What had Sans been looking for down here...? In any case, his trail went cold. Alphys only had her own guidance to go on now.

There was another doorway opposite of the tank room, so she headed for it--and thanked her luck as rows of ancient computers greeted her. Finally! This was what she'd been hoping for. She headed for the nearest one, and booted it up--or, tried to. It briefly wheezed to life, only to die, and she swore under her breath as she dove under the desk to open it up. These were built into the floor?! Oh come on... Maybe she could remove the hard drives and take them back to her lab for analysis. She pried the side panel open and took a look--well, that was unusual.

And bad.

The main drives had melted together somehow, the plastic and metal a bubbled mess. She swore under her breath again, and reached in to see what her magic could tell her. The spark of magical electricity raced out, laying the computer's wiring bare in her mind's eye. It was the skill that had made her such a mechanical genius, and as she sensed the magic's ebb and flow, she sighed. She'd salvaged many a broken machine others had written off, but the chances of getting anything more than parts out of this were slim. She squeezed back out from under the desk, and surveyed the room. There were at least a dozen more... She had to hope she could get something out of those. She dusted herself off, moved to the next station, and got to work.

Three hours later, and Alphys had pulled as many drives from the remaining computers. She didn't have high hopes for these either, but they'd seemingly suffered the least damage from whatever event had fried an entire room of computers. She suspected the events leading to Gaster's disappearance might have been it... but that didn't help her now. She put the drives in her tool satchel, took one last look around the room, then headed back for the elevator.

The memoryheads burst from the floor again, and Alphys shrieked.

"G-guys! I know I sh-should be used to that by now, but please--"

The amalgamates buzzed, and she pulled out her phone to listen.

"Right this way."

"O-oh, you know of... more stuff?"

"CORRECT."

"Okay. Um, lead the way then."

Alphys shuffled after the memoryheads as they flit down the hall and into the elevator. She gave them a quizzical look--and jumped as the elevator started without any input--any visible input, at least. It rose to the next floor up, and Alphys dug for her tools, expecting another round of cutting her way in. But the doors dinged and opened smoothly onto a wide landing, and she watched the amalgamate glide out. But she shook her head and followed.

The hallway opened into a larger room, with windows along one side and a door to another hallway that continued on straight. Of chief interest to her was the large computer terminal set into the wall, but there was also a monitor near the windows, and she could just make out another placed in the hallway. If nothing else, this looked promising.

She padded over to the terminal, then blinked and turned back to the memoryheads. "Hey, u-um... thank you."

"DON'T MENTION IT." "You're welcome" "be seeing you."

They phased out, leaving Alphys alone in the abandoned lab once more. She took a deep breath, and turned back to the main terminal. This looked more advanced than the computers she'd already raided, and she hoped it had been better shielded from damage. She gathered her nerves, and turned it on. It flickered--and command-line text spurted across the screen. Alphys grinned, cracked her knuckles, and got to work. Alphys dug into the files, many of which, though corrupted, still held tantalizing fragments of data.

"O-okay, this said something about behavioral sources, and that other file mentioned cross-referencing a natural history encyclopedia with the behaviors observed in a study group... A study group of what though...?" Alphys muttered to herself as she wrote her own notes on what she'd pieced together. She'd copied down a few tables of measurements, and found parameters for the tubes she'd seen in the other rooms. But there was still more to comb through, and amid the gibberish of corrupted text more complete phrases stood out, forming a log of observations.

"...UBJECT REQUIRES FOOD. UNFORTUNATE. I WAS HOPING IT WOU..."

"...BEAM OUTPUT UNDER EXPECTED PERFORMANCE. SUBJECT CONTINUES TO EXHIB... URTHER TESTING REQUIRED..."

"...SUBJECT EXHIBITS UNUSUAL BEHAVIO... NGE OUTSIDE PREDICTED... NOT FOLLOWING MY INTENDED..."

"Y-yeah, of course they didn't, you jerk," Alphys muttered to herself as she continued to scroll through the files and copy whatever had survived. She already didn't like Gaster very much, but these files were doing nothing for his reputation. She found a proposed recipe for whatever he'd used to feed the brothers and grimaced. "Just plain food-grade magic and a few basic vitamins...? Really? That would have no flavor... No wonder Sans loves fast food and Papyrus can't cook... Oh, this log looks pretty complete! Let's see what it says..."

"I HAVE NOW CONFIRMED IT... BOTH SUBJECTS EXHIBIT TROUBLING ABILITY. PHENOTYPE EXPRESSION IS VARIABLE... SEEMINGLY AT WILL. MORE TESTING WILL BE NEEDED TO DETERMINE IF THIS COULD BE... PREVENTED IN SOME WAY. FOR NOW, UNDESIRABLE ATTRIBUTES WILL BE MITIGATED."

Alphys shuddered. "M-mitigated... I guess that's a nice way of saying he made them be what he wanted... ugh. Well... there's another entry, so..."

"PHENOTYPE ISSUES PERSIST. NO PROGRESS MADE ON SUPPRESSING THE ABILITY. IT APPEARS TO BE A FUNCTION OF THEIR... DESIGN FLAW."

Alphys stared at the words before her. "Design flaw... what does he... wait.... Does he mean their souls?!"

Disgusted, she pushed away from the terminal and paced. Suggesting a soul was a flaw... she couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend the callousness this log boasted. She bristled, and static crackled across her scales--oh, the last time she'd been this angry it had been watching Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2! But as angry as she was, she needed to keep looking. She needed whatever information this place still held. She took a few more deep breaths, ran her hands over her face, and returned to the computer to keep digging.

As it so often did, the time flew as she worked. She only realized how long she'd spent browsing and recovering files when her stomach growled, signaling it was well into the night and she'd forgotten to eat. She sighed, and rubbed at weary eyes... She'd collected so much, but there was still more, dozens of files she hadn't gotten to. She'd have to come back and keep looking at this--at least she knew where it was now. And all she'd read was enough to start formulating a hypothesis.

She shut the computer down and gathered her things, then shuffled over to the windows to have a look before she headed up. She couldn't make out much in the dim light, but the room beyond seemed... huge. She looked around and... oh! There was a light switch here. She pressed it, and overhead lighting clicked on, revealing the room beyond. It was huge--perhaps twice the size of the main floor upstairs, if not bigger. The walls were stained--but had clearly once been a stark, sterile white. Was this where the brothers had been... tested?

Alphys pursed her lips, and backed away. The lights had also been turned on in the hallway, showing more rooms. She wasn't sure she wanted to, but... she was curious. She shuffled on, and came to the first door. It was reinforced, and she could only just see through the window if she stood on her toes. More stark walls, though the room was much smaller--then she realized it was subdivided, with a thick window and another reinforced door splitting the room...

A pit grew in her stomach. This... had to be...

She wouldn't have believed anyone could keep a fellow monster like this. But, considering what she'd just read she wasn't surprised Gaster had only provided the bare essential to the brothers. She glanced up at the monitor set into the wall nearby. If it was anything like the ones she'd used herself... She waved her hand in front of it.

"HOLDING ROOM 1. CONTENTS: UNOCCUPIED."

"A-ah..." she uttered, and shuffled to the next. It was identical to the first.

"HOLDING ROOM 2. CONTENTS: UNOCCUPIED."

She supposed it was better they were empty... but she wanted to see them all. The third room was slightly different--it was a bit larger, and had a raised shelf on one side. If she squinted, she could just make out what seemed to be a ragged scrap of fabric laid on top of it. Was that... supposed to be a bed? Maybe this was where the brothers really lived... At least it had more space than the holding rooms, but there was nothing to make it any more comfortable. It was just bare, featureless metal walls. She grimaced, and activated the nearby monitor.

"ENCLOSURE 1: SUBJECT 1. WARNING: DO NOT APPROACH. SUBJECT IS KNOWN TO BE DANGEROUS. DO NOT PERMIT INTERACTION WITH SUBJECT 2. EXPERIMENT CONCLUSION: FAILURE."

Alphys shuddered, then turned to the next room. It was similarly barren.

"ENCLOSURE 2: SUBJECT 2. WARNING: DO NOT APPROACH. SUBJECT IS KNOWN TO ESCAPE, MAY BE DANGEROUS. DO NOT PERMIT INTERACTION WITH SUBJECT 1. EXPERIMENT CONCLUSION: FAILURE."

Alphys clenched her fists. Her friends weren't failures... they were incredible for holding together for so long, getting through so much, and then doing nice things for her and trusting her to help them. They had survived all of--this. Her goal was clearer than ever--but she was too tired to work on it now. She turned her back on the abandoned lab and headed for the elevator.

Reaching the fresh air of the main floor was a relief. As tempted as she was to immediately plug the hard drives she'd collected into her computer and start recovering them, she opted to fix some instant noodles and catch up on the Undernet instead. It had been a long day... she'd get back to work tomorrow, after she'd had some time to recharge.

The drives she'd recovered from the lab were plugged into her main computer as she heated up breakfast, and she sipped at a mug of coffee as she poked at them virtually. If she could coax more information out of them, it'd bolster her suspicions. To say the code structure was archaic was... an understatement. But, it meant the password protection was easily bypassed with a few tricks--she was better at actual hacking than the 'hacking' she'd done to get into the abandoned lab floors, and in moments she'd begun browsing whatever files remained. There were plenty to choose from, many of which seemed to relate to details of the Core and other technological projects. But none seemed to relate to the brothers' origins, and after thoroughly checking the rest of the available files, she moved to the next drive.

It seemed these computers hadn't been used for anything relating to the brothers, however. Barring any damage or corruption, each drive contained essentially the same files. Alphys' best guess was that that room of computers had been used by everyone in the lab... and perhaps not everyone was allowed access to the files detailing Gaster's little project. She sighed, setting the old disks aside. She'd have to go back to that main computer after all, see what else she could get, and collect her own data to compare. And that would mean calling the brothers in for some tests.

"O-okay, just, hold still please!" Alphys said, trying to steady her own hands as Papyrus fidgeted.

"Are all of these really necessary?" he griped. "They're making me, itchy, I think."

"I n-need them so I can properly read your magic! Th-these sensors are the only way to tell what's going on with it, and they won't work if I don't get them placed just right," Alphys explained.

"think of it like one of your puzzles bro," Sans suggested helpfully from where he half-dozed nearby. "do it in the wrong order and ya gotta start over, right?"

Papyrus sighed. "I suppose. Very well!"

He finally sat perfectly still, allowing Alphys to place the rest of the sensors.

"Okay! There! That's it for that--now I need to make sure they work, and then we can get, um, some data. You guys ready?"

"Finally! We're doing real science!"

"instead of being the science done," Sans joked--was it a joke? Alphys hoped so as she flicked the electro-magical field reader on.

"Okay, just like we did for S-Sans, I'm going to need you to hold still and wait for a minute so we can get a baseline," she explained.

"Of course! I was paying attention!" Papyrus huffed. "I'm just excited! To think, after all this time, we might find out why... I'm tall, and Sans isn't!"

"well, that's one possibility," Sans said, and Alphys couldn't help but laugh.

"I sure hope we find out more than that. O-okay, just a little bit longer, and...!" She watched the timer count up to one minute, then cut the data collection off. "Okay, now, I'm going to start it again, but I'd like for you to cast a few attacks. I-it can be any pattern or bullet type, you just have to keep it up for thirty seconds!"

"A simple task for someone as great as me! I'm ready!"

"Target's over there--aaand go!"

Papyrus obliged, sending a flurry of bones at the dummy Undyne had loaned them for the day. He started with a basic array, then quickly built up to a complex pattern before finishing with a blast from his own jaws. Alphys gave him a smile as she cut the reading off.

"Okay, that was great! Sans, are you sure you can't give me at least a couple attacks to compare...?"

"Yeah, come on, Sans! Your patterns may not be as good as mine, but you don't want to mess up Alphys' data, do you? I know you can do it!" Papyrus encouraged, and his brother gave a drawn-out sigh as he got up and trudged over.

"alright, alright. i'll throw you a bone."

"Sans! You better throw more than one! You have to fill thirty seconds of data!"

"geez, don't remind me."

Alphys finished disconnecting the wires that had linked Papyrus to her machine, and reconnected the lines that were still attached to Sans from his first round of tests. "Okay, everything should be hooked back up. Are you ready?"

"as i'll ever be."

"And... go!"

Sans immediately opened with a pair of blasters before tearing into the dummy with a bone maze, then sent alternating blue and white bones at it before summoning another round of blasters. As she watched, Alphys wondered if they would have a training dummy to return to Undyne by the time this was through. She gave the signal for him to stop, and he flopped to the tile floor panting.

"Sans, you showoff! Alphys, I want to do mine again, I can do better than my troll of a brother," Papyrus said, indignant. Despite his breathlessness, Sans chuckled from the floor.

"U-uh, well, maybe later--I only needed to see you guys using your attacks, it didn't really matter how, um, flashy they were," she replied, holding up her hands. "That should be good enough for now. Th... There's one other thing I wish I could test, b-but, I think I can just use the old... the old data I was able to recover for that."

"I thought the point of this was to collect brand new, un-possibly-corrupted data?" Papyrus said, fiddling with one of the wires trailing from his skull.

"W-well, yeah, but... I can't ask you guys to do it, not when you guys have worked so hard to..." Alphys fidgeted. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything you don't want to, and I can't imagine you'd want to do, um, this potential round of testing... so, f-forget it! It's fine."

"you wanna know what our magic's doing when we slip," Sans surmised, pushing up into a sitting position. "isolating those patterns might tell us how to turn 'em off... that's what you're thinking, right?"

Alphys sighed. "Y-yeah... but... I know how hard it is for you guys to break out of it. And... I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. I... I saw where he kept you. I... I read at least... some of what he did to you... And I don't want this to be anything like what you went through down there."

The brothers exchanged looks. After a moment, Sans sighed. "we want to get this figured out as much as anyone. if that means... letting go... well, with any luck it'll be worth the trouble, right? plus, i'll have you guys to pull me out of it."

"Oh no you don't Sans, you are not sacrificing yourself! I mean, it's very selfless of you, but! You also have the worst time with it. So I volunteer!"

"no way papyrus, i'm not letting you do that to yourself. i'll feel better knowing you're looking out for me."

"And! You'll be looking out for me! It's fair either way!"

"no, you're not doing it. end of story bro."

"Guys," Alphys interrupted, "we don't have to do it! I shouldn't have even mentioned it, ugh."

Papyrus turned to her. "Doctor Alphys, if this is going to help us figure out how to never do this again, then I think we should. I... I want to know what he did to us."

Alphys looked at his earnest expression, and turned to Sans. "Is... Is that how you feel too?"

Sans closed his eyes and rubbed his face with a claw. "... yeah. everything we've tried... it hasn't worked. i have no idea how we figured it out as kids. so... anything that might help us get this over with... we gotta try all our options, right?"

"O-okay... If you guys are sure... then, I'll take care of my side of things. If you need a few days to decide who's going t-to... do the tests, or if we're doing them at all, that's fine. I can analyze what we collected today in the meantime."

"I think that may be best!" Papyrus replied, and Sans nodded. "You'll hear from us soon enough! You can count on it!"

"J-just, take care, okay?" Alphys said as she hurried to help remove the sensors from the brothers' skulls. "I d-don't want you guys to get hurt because of me..."

Papyrus turned to pat her head. "Don't worry about us, Doctor Alphys! We've gotten through far worse! And! This time! It's on our terms!"

She bid them farewell, hoping they hadn't all just made a terrible mistake... but she had to trust the brothers. They had gotten through worse, and come out on top every time. They were counting on her to do her job--so she ought to do it. She gathered up the lines from the EM reader, and wheeled it closer to the computer so she could input the data and begin her analysis. She'd compare the brothers' readouts to samples she'd taken of herself, some of the engineers from the Core, and her friends--all to see if anything differed between them. It was bound to be interesting.

The days passed, and even as she continued trawling through the data collected by a cruel man, she realized she was having fun doing science again. Watching the numbers come together, formulating a hypothesis, tweaking variables to monitor the effects... This was so much more up her alley, finding how all the pieces fit together. And as she collected more pieces, she was getting a clearer picture of just what state the brothers' souls were in, and what Gaster's experiment had been meant to achieve.

She just needed was one last piece to confirm her idea and start working on a solution. She could only hope she'd hear from the brothers soon...

Finally, Sans called her one afternoon, sounding especially weary. "heya alph."

"Oh! H-hi, Sans! What's up?"

"i, uh think we're ready."

"... I guess Papyrus won the argument, huh?"

Sans managed a laugh. "yeah. i couldn't stand up to his flawless logic... which was 'go into the woods for a few days to loosen up' before i could get around to it myself."

"Uh. Wow."

"yeah. he's always really on top of things."

"He's... okay, right?"

"oh yeah, my bro's fine. it's just... rough, seeing him like this, y'know?"

"I bet. A-anyway, I'm ready whenever you guys are."

"ok. we'll be right up."

"Okay! I'l be ready!"

Sans hung up, and she scrambled to actually be ready, because whenever Sans said he was about to be somewhere, he was almost always already there. She pulled the EM reader away from the wall, and gathered a bundle of sensors and draped them over the top just as there was a knock at the door. She squinted, because that was an automatic door...

"Come in!" she called, and the door slid open.

"you're supposed to say 'who's there'," Sans replied as he ambled in, Papyrus in tow. "alright, good luck getting him to hold still this time. don't think he's, uh, as far as he could be, but, should be enough for your tests."

Alphys looked from him to Papyrus, who was warily sniffing the floor. She could already tell in how he carried himself and studied the room that he really had fallen back on instincts. Which was what they needed for the test, but... like Sans had said. It was rough seeing him like this.

"O-okay. Papyrus?"

He perked up, and swung his head around, tilting it to one side.

"Um, hi. Can you come over here, please?"

He looked to Sans, who nodded before walking slowly over to the machine. Papyrus followed, and scrutinized the device thoroughly before sitting down and studying her patiently.

"Okay, now, I need you to hold still while I stick these on," she explained, feeling like she was repeating herself--but she wasn't sure Papyrus remembered the last time he'd been here. "Th-they might get a little itchy, but, I need you to let them stay on, okay?"

Papyrus made an uncertain warble as she approached, but Sans gave him a reassuring hoot and laid down. Alphys gave him a look.

"U-um... you're not... slipping too, are you?"

He gave her a weary shrug. "doing my best not to, but... we stick close, y'know?"

Alphys pursed her lips, but continued with her task. Papyrus was surprisingly patient despite his former concern, only fidgeting a little as she pasted the sensors onto his skull and sternum. He tried to scratch at them once--but Sans batted his hand down with a gruff rasp, and though Papyrus shot him an annoyed look, he settled down.

"Okay, they're all hooked up! I'm starting the test now--just, hang in there okay?"

Well before the minute was up, Papyrus got too fidgety again, and risked pulling away from the machine--but before Alphys could scold him, Sans started a game with him. He summoned a small bone just within the reach of Papyrus' neck, and Papyrus snapped at it--missing as Sans pulled it away at the last moment. Papyrus uttered a playful growl, his tail flicking before he lunged at the bone's new spot--and missed again. Sans evaded him a few more times before Papyrus caught the bone in his jaws and it fizzled out of existence. Sans summoned another bone, and the game began anew.

"Alright, that should be enough!" Alphys announced, and the two looked up--though Papyrus took the opportunity to catch the latest bone Sans had been taunting him with. "I think I can work with this--thank you so, so much you guys. I should have more info in a week or two... Are you really going to be okay?"

Sans shrugged. "we're going to undyne's after this, she'll get him to shape up. we'll see ya later, alph."

"O-oh, okay! Tell her I said hi," Alphys said, hoping she wasn't blushing as she peeled the last of the sensors off Papyrus. "With any luck, I'll be able to help you with a different kind of shape."

"heh, good one. ok bro, ready to see undyne?"

Papyrus warbled an affirmative, and with a click, and a blink, they were gone.

Alphys shook her head, and turned to begin analyzing her results. She still didn't get how Sans did that. Maybe there'd be something in the data.

There certainly was a lot of data to go through. Alphys had been building her hypothesis, but as she got deeper into the numbers, she realized there was more to it. She dug back into the abandoned lab's computers, hacked and reconfigured her way in, and scraped every last bit from the broken registries and hidden backups. She cheered when she found a nearly complete log charting the brothers' growth, only to feel sickened by Gaster's actions yet again as she read the suggestions on how to alter their physiology and diet to get better results--whatever that meant.

"Subject had human-derived willpower substance drawn today..." Alphys read, squinting. "Human derived... willpower substance? What does he mean by..."

A chill seized her. Surely it wasn't the same...? She scrambled back through the readouts she'd taken from the brothers, and cross referenced them. Oh. That would explain... why that part of the wavelengths had looked so odd. She sank back in her chair--it really was the same. Determination... Really, knowing the memoryheads hadn't been her doing, and the blueprints she'd found, she shouldn't be so surprised. Somehow, the brothers were stable--thank god. But, why...? Why add that to... a living weapon? Or a monster? She kept digging, trying to understand the man who'd created life just to use it as a tool.

But before she could make much progress or come to any conclusions, Undyne called her.

"Alphys, are you busy?" she said ugently, and Alphys dropped the stack of papers she'd collected.

"N-no, why?"

"It's Papyrus. We can't get him back."

Alphys froze, heart racing instantly. "...Wh-what? It wasn't too b-bad when he was here--what's going on?"

"It's," she started, frustration clear, "it's like he just keeps sliding, no matter what we do. Sans won't say anything but I can tell he's worried. We thought you might be able to tell us something..."

Alphys gave a shuddering breath. "I... It's too early, I haven't had a chance to analyze everything yet. I-I only have a guess as to why the brothers can change at all, not--not how to help them yet..."

Undyne grunted. "Okay, well, we'll help him as much as we can. Let us know as soon as you find something, okay? Please."

"I-I'm working as fast as I can. Just.. just tell them to hang in there, I should have something soon."

"Okay. Thank you, Alph."

She hung up, and Alphys was left staring ahead at her desk. It... was... probably okay? The brothers had been stuck in their feral states before, and both had snapped out of it eventually. It was the pattern--even if they stayed in the blaster form for a while, they'd get back to their true selves...

A pattern.

The idea seized her. Scrambling through the papers before her, she began compiling all the notes, charts, anything that was relevant. She hoped her hunch was wrong, dread coiled tight in her chest as she began running the numbers.

A week of nearly constant work later, and she had her results in hand.

Alphys stared at it, threw it aside to pace, then came back to it. This couldn't be right. But it explained... too much about the problems they'd had. She couldn't bear the thought of telling them... but she had to, didn't she? They deserved to know. But if she told them, wouldn't they hate her...? No, they might hate her more if she didn't say something, tell them that they...

She had to tell them.

"Th-thanks for coming," she uttered, trying not to let her voice shake as Undyne and the brothers entered her lab again. Papyrus balked at the doorway, and only scuttled in once Sans had plodded into the center of the room, proving it was safe. His gaze darted around his surroundings, and he chittered nervously. Alphys frowned. They really hadn't gotten him back, and today... she'd be telling them why.

"Uh, so, how's it going?" Undyne said, trying to lighten the mood with small talk as they gathered around a fold-out table. "You said you had something for us, right? Not gonna lie, I've been super excited for the results."

Alphys sighed, and Undyne's smile fell.

"Alph... what did you find?"

"I-I," she stammered, "I found... well... I found a lot. Not everything, but, enough to figure some things out. I was able to piece together what Gaster did to make the brothers the way they are, b-but... I also found something... that's... bad. And it has to do with why Papyrus isn't back to being himself... but I didn't find out any way to help you... I'm sorry."

"s'ok. you did your best," Sans said, his head laid on the table and eyes dim. What was happening now had clearly taken its toll.

Undyne grimaced. "Well, it's only been a little bit since you started working, right? Maybe you just haven't found the answer yet. But, I think you should tell us what you did find."

"Maybe," Alphys said, trying not to sound defeated. It was true she'd only had all the data for a little while, but... she wasn't sure it would matter. "I... I want to be more honest about my work, s-so... I'll tell you what I found, even though it's bad news... If... if you don't want to hear it, I don't blame you..."

Sans closed his eyes. "Papyrus... isn't going to understand it. So... you can say whatever."

"We're not gonna be mad or anything just because you did your job," Undyne reassured her. "Tell us what you found out."

Alphys grit her teeth, and turned to Sans. "S-so... I guess I'll start with why you guys are like this to begin with. The beginning's usually a good place to start, right? Ha ha... Anyway... I'll, um, try not to ramble but... I think the gist of it... is that, Gaster tried to make a living... bullet. You know how some monsters can cast attacks that, um, seem like their own entity, right? That sort of construct is uncommon, but not unheard of--but, they're not truly living things, they're attacks the same as any other. It seems like... Gaster wanted to take this idea further, and make attacks that could potentially think for themselves and last outside of battle a long time. All to hunt humans...

"He constructed some extremely advanced attacks--based on what I could find, he figured out their most intricate workings, even how to 'program' them with certain traits or behaviors--ones he learned hunting animals on the surface have. It looks like he spent years refining this technique. But... he still couldn't get them to last outside of battle like he wanted. The way he saw it... the next step was to add a little bit of soul energy. H-he, um, apparently didn't expect... that even a small amount would become a full soul. S-so... the soul formed inside this... programmed attack format.

"It was easiest for the magic to flow along these pre-constructed paths... but the soul... still contained the genetic format for a skeleton monster--a bipedal form with intelligence and skills beyond what Gaster had intended. So... without realizing it... he ended up with a sort of... hybrid, of his specialized attack, and a monster that, um... technically... was his... child."

"Gaster should count himself lucky he's erased, because if I got my hands on him..." Undyne growled, her fists clenched tightly, "he'd WISH he was."

"Y-yeah, seeing all this, I was furious too," Alphys breathed. "He... in what little I read, he just... talked like he was working with animals. M-maybe... he'd convinced himself that's all you were. B-but... so... that's... where your instincts, and ability to transform, come from. It was all him--he, unwittingly, gave your souls this ability by trying to fit them into another form."

"...huh," Sans uttered. "guess that does explain it... why we can do it, and why the instincts only come up when we're like this."

"So is there any way to like... turn it off?" Undyne said. "It's not really a part of them, so maybe--"

"I-it is, though" Alphys said, downcast. "It's as much a part of their soul as, I dunno, bone magic. A-and, turning it off, w-well... Gaster wanted to do the opposite, and take away their other form... He never actually succeeded, obviously, but... that... brings me to the bad news."

"Wh... What do you mean?"

Alphys heaved another sigh. "I didn't think anything of it at first. It just seemed like... like a coincidence, or maybe Gaster just wore you guys down over time, but... You've said it was easier to change back and forth when you were younger, right? And you just... did it less as time went on... B-but... well... with Papyrus being unable to get back from even a relatively mild slip with your guys' help... I got to thinking...

"Maybe... maybe there was actually a pattern to it. Th-that... as time has gone on... it really.... It really is getting harder for you guys to switch back and forth. Like... like the forms get more entrenched as time goes on, a-and, the longer you stay in them. S-so... I plotted all the times it mentioned you guys switching forms on a graph... a-and..."

She slid a pair of papers across the table for Sans and Undyne to study. Each was labeled with their names, and the points on the graphs plotted lines--but they looked more like waves, the crests and troughs of which increased in amplitude as time went on as their frequency decreased. A fainter line projected the waves' path into the future--and it went off the page.

"I-I... I think... W-well, the data suggests, that, if... if we can't get you guys changed back soon... you... you might... slip, and... not... not be able t-to break out of it... e-ever... ever again."

Sans' eyes blinked out. "... papyrus is going to be stuck like this forever?"

Alphys had never heard his voice break like that before. She could barely speak herself, but she couldn't leave things there. "I-I don't know, there's--there's still a chance we can bring him out of this. We just--we can't let it get too far, o-or... A-and I mean, I could be wrong! God, I hope I'm wrong... My d-data is probably pretty incomplete, I don't have much f-from, when you were younger or before all this... B-but, it's... It's a possibility, and, when you called and said you hadn't gotten him out of it, that's when I realized what might be going on, why you might not be able to change back like you did a long time ago... and, I... I'm so sorry..."

Undyne clenched her fists. "I... I really hate Gaster. ALL of this, ALL of your guys' suffering, is because of HIM, and hearing it might not be something you can escape? I WON'T accept that. Alphys, if I can help you, just tell me what to do--I'm NOT letting this guy take my friends away after he's already DEAD."

"we'll still be around," Sans uttered, voice subdued. "just won't be like we used to. i... i dunno what we'll do to live, but... h... hey, just... keep being nice to my bro, ok?"

"Sans, we're not giving up! I can't give up! I WON'T give up! I--" Undyne was interrupted as Papyrus, seeing her upset, had put his head against her arm and nuzzled it. She grimaced, and patted him with a hand as she continued. "I said it before, I'll say it as long as I need to. I won't rest until you guys are back the way you want to be. Alphys hasn't finished her research, so there might still be something we can do. For your brother's sake, don't you DARE slip, or give up, or let go. Okay?"

Sans looked up at her, beleaguered. "dunno... i was never good at fighting the inevitable..."

"Well it's not inevitable yet," Undyne stated firmly. "Alphys, if we get the bros changed back soon, what will happen?"

She thought. "I-it... it should mean it's their other forms--the regular skeleton monster form--that becomes dominant. A-at least, at least on this scale. I didn't plot ahead like... decades, s-so it's possible this doesn't show every outcome... B-but... the sooner we avert the current trend, the better..."

"so... how much time... before we're too far gone?" Sans murmured, and Alphys winced. Despite Undyne's words of encouragement, he was obviously doing pretty badly.

"I can't be sure--it, I think it depends on how much you keep exercising your mind, since that seems to be what's helped you break out of it. I'd... I'd keep trying with Papyrus too. I... I'm with Undyne on this one, I... I don't want to give up, even though it looks really bad... S-so, please... you can't give up, Sans. I know that's really hard for you, b-but... one of the other things I discovered, that I'm still researching is... that... You both have artificially elevated levels of Determination. I... I think that's something else he figured out--how to give Determination to monsters in a safe way. It might be another factor in why you haven't been able to change back, but... It might help keep you going, too."

Sans studied her for a while, then closed his eyes. "i dunno. all this... sounds like there was never anything we could do about it. the moment either of us changed this last time... our fate was sealed. i'm... i'm just so tired. all the work we've done to keep ourselves together... it didn't get us anywhere. i... i'll try to keep it together, for papyrus... i don't want to leave him hanging. but... it's been real hard. and if it's only going to get harder... i don't think i can keep it up for much longer."

Undyne reached over to pat his shoulder. "Look, we'll get through this. You just keep holding on to yourself, I'll help with Papyrus--done that before--and Alphys will keep looking for a solution. Monsters didn't get to where we are today by giving up, so you can't either."

"Yeah Sans, I promise I'll keep looking," Alphys stated--Undyne's will was bolstering her own. "Now that I have an idea of what's going on... maybe I can figure out how to undo it--not, not all the way. Like I said, this... this is a part of your soul. But... if we can figure out how you can change back, then, it should stay dormant for a long, long time. And, that's worth going after."

Sans opened his eyes, their lights returned as he studied them both, then looked to his brother, who had gotten bored and wandered off to bat a piece of crumpled paper across the floor. "i... to be honest? i dunno if i care how we end up. all i want is for papyrus to be happy. but... i guess... if i slip too, i dunno who's gonna take care of him. if i can't hold a job, we can't pay for a house, or good food, or... he couldn't do any of the stuff he really loves. i, uh, remember how it was when we lived in the forest, and... i don't want him living like that ever again. so... i guess i do have to keep it together, huh?"

Alphys smiled with relief. "Y-yeah, you do. I still have a lot of data to go through, s-so, nothing's decided yet, b-but... I figured you should know what might be happening, and... hopefully... do something about it. I know I'm going to try."

"Yeah, don't worry! We've got your backs, okay?" Undyne said, grinning widely. She wound up to slap him on the back, but he dodged out of the way.

"ok, don't make that literal," he said, sounding a little better as he squinted at her. "i, uh... won't make any promises. but... hey, maybe i should help with the research too. if there's anything good i inherited from gaster, it was his smarts. science stuff is still cool, despite him."

"I'm glad he didn't totally ruin it for you," Alphys replied, heart soaring as her own hopes returned. "I certainly could use the help, and it would help keep your mind sharp, s-so, if it's not too much for you... that might be good for both of us."

"heh... using gaster's own specialty against him? can't say i don't like the sound of that," Sans replied, something like spiteful glee shining in his eyes now. "yeah. count me in."

"Aw man, all of us working together!" Undyne cheered. "It'll be great!"

"Yeah... yeah, I think that'll be nice. I'm... I'm sorry I couldn't give you guys good news today, but... That's hardly the end of it," Alphys said. "We'll see where the data leads us, and go from there, and not give up until we're sure we've thought of everything. Until then... I'm not through with Gaster's work. He... he's dead... But I won't let him win!"

[thatoneao3writer]

Can I get a fic where the Titans and the Hive are just stuck in a perpetual eternal prank war for the whole of April? I just feel that it would be hilarious to see Skeppy getting mad at everyone who pranks BBH ("Hey, only I can prank him!"), Dream protecting George at every turn ("Watch out!" "Dream, it's just a water gun." "...I knew that."), Ponk and Awesamdude teaming up to prank others and defend each other, and just ultimate chaos in general. - Anonybro

(Hi! Hello! I hope you don't mind me answering this pretty late ><)

A hooded figure grinned mischievously as they stared at the clock. 

Tick Tock Tick Tock

One minute.

Tick Tock Tick Tock

In just under a minute, they are finally able to start their plans. Everyone would be asleep, they won’t know what’s coming to them, it’s perfect. 

Tick Tock Tick Tock

The hooded figure rubbed their hands menacingly, suppressing the urge to laugh out loud. No need to expose themselves so early in the morning.

Tick Tock Tick- The hand struck twelve.

With a smirk, the figured crossed out a date on the calendar with thick red lines. It’s time.

--

“AHHHHHHH!!!”

Sam shot up from bed with a start. He looked around with groggy eyes, fuck he needs to wake up- He turned to his right to wake up Ponk.

“Ponkie, up, up!! There might be an intruder, Bad might be in danger- hurry!” He urged, already jumping up from the bed- and immediately slipping on a bunch of marbles and landing on his back with a hiss.

Ponk, still very much half-asleep, peeked from the bed. “Are you okay?” He asked healf-heartedly, obviously trying to keep his giggles to himself.

Sam glared lightly. “What’s the date today?” He asked instead of answering, not even bothering to stand up or to go check on BBH anymore.

His partner disappeared for a few seconds before reappearing again. “April 1st,” he answered with a yawn.

Sam sighed, lifting hi chest up to grab a marble that was irritating his back. He lifted the marble to the morning sun coming from the curtain cracks. “This month is going to be horrible,” he said.

Ponk hummed in agreement before he lazily plopped himself on top of Sam, the sudden weight making the other man gasp in surprise, the were still marbles on his back... Well, at least Ponk wasn’t wearing his prosthetics, otherwise, Sam would have gotten more than just mere bruises.

--

“PUFFY!!” Bad screeched as he entered the kitchen, waving a bunch of paper at her angrily.

Ant looked up from his perch on Puffy’s shoulders to mew at his friend, the immediately went back to napping.

Puffy paused eating her cereal and quirked an eyebrow at the furious demon. “Yeah Bad?” She asked before going to drink some water.

BBH threw the pieces of paper on the table. Puffy saw the graphic drawings of dicks and immediately lost her shit. She accidentally spat out her drink and started laughing so hard that Ant fell from her shoulders.

Ant whined as he transformed back to human at stood on his knees, just enough to see what was on the table, then as expected he bust out laughing just as hard as Puffy.

“These were all over my window! Who put it there?!” BBH demanded, not finding this amusing at the very least. 

Puffy gasped and wheezed, holding up a finger, asking for a minute. “I-I don’t know- but whoever did was a genius! AHAHAHA”

BBH grumbled as he took the pictures and threw them in a portal the led straight to the fiery pits of hell. “This isn’t funny! And when I find out who did it...” 

Puffy and Ant didn’t hear the last of the sentence, too busy laughing to even notice the demon walking away to look for whoever was responsible.

--

Dream kicked down the door to the kitchen, watching as a bucket of water fell and crashed on the floor. Too easy. He picked in, cautious, the room was dark... too dark. He reached over to switch on the lights and-

“Fuck-!” He pulled away immediately after feeling the electric shock. 

“HAHA! You fell for it! What an idiot!” Quackity mocked from the shadows.

Dream glared at the dark room, cursing himself for not being cautious enough to bring his night-vision goggles. “Come out you coward!” He said.

Quackity giggled, his voice echoing in the dark room. “Am I the coward? Or are you? Why aren’t you coming in Dream? Scared?” He taunted.

Dream grit his teeth, his knuckles clenching into a tight fist. “I know you set up some traps, I’m no idiot.” He grit out.

A pair of pure white eyes appeared from the shadows, Quackity was in his true form. “That wasn’t my question Dream... or should I say, coward?” He mocked before disappearing into the shadows again.

“I’m not a coward!” Dream growled before he made a mistake and stepped into the room in an attempt to catch the shape-shifter.

Oh shit- Dream groaned as a piece of pie was shoved to his face. Shaking in pure rage at the sound of Quackity victorious cheering and mockery.

--

Ant’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance at the sight of a huge diamond statue of a dick in their backyard. The little shit didn’t even try to hide his identity. 

The shapeshifter dialed out a number with a pleasant smile. “Hey Bad...”

--

“SKEPPY! WHY THE FUCK DID A HUGE DIAMOND DICK FALL FROM THE SKY AND RUIN OUR ROOF!?”

--

“My work bench! Who took my work bench!” Sam demanded, coming out from his room. Incidentally, he bumped into a peeved looking Ponk. “Oh hey Ponkie, what’s up?”

“Someone took my desk and I’m going to find out who that is so I know who to chef up.” He huffed.

Sam nodded understandingly. “I’ll help you with that,” he promised.

Ponk looked up at him. “What’s up with you?” He asked.

“Well, someone thought would be funny to take my work bench and let me tell ya, that is not funny. And whoever took your desk, might be the same person who took my work bench.” He explained.

“You mean that work bench?”

Sam turned to look at Ponk, who had paused walking and was now pointing out the window. “What?” He asked, walking to Ponk and seeing the ridiculous looking house made of tables and work benches and desks, and one of which is his. “What?” He repeated more incredulously. 

Ponk snorted. “That’s so stoopid. Why would anyone do that?” He asked no one in particular before bursting into uncontrollable giggles.

Sam couldn’t help but join in.

--

“DREAM! DREAM!!!!”

“Dammit Sapnap! Pipe down would you?” George reprimanded, rubbing at his ears.

Sapnap muttered a half-assed apology as he marched off, screaming Dream’s name. George sighed in relief, going back to reading his book in peace.

A few seconds later, a grumpy looking Velvet entered the living room. “Have you seen Dream?” He asked.

George groaned, not bothering to put down his book. “No,” he stated simply. Smiling in relief as his friend walked away.

Suddenly, a heavy weight settled itself next to George. The human could feel a pair of eyes staring at him, but he didn’t give them any attention. Then again, they were distracting him from his book...

He finally gave in and put down his book, turning to glare at Quackity. “What?” 

“Dream changed the Netflix password.” He said with big puppy eyes.

“He what?” George immediately tossed his book to the coffee table and leaped from the couch. “Dream?? DREAM!!!”

(Feel free to make your own interpretation on who the person in the beginning is >< or who put the dicks on BBH’s window lmfao)

[focailmarbh]

Whumptober; Prompt #9

presumed dead | (blind) rage | tears

__________________________________________

Jameson stands still, too still, his balled fists shaking. He grits his teeth No. No, it can’t be true. The hero has to be lying. 

“I’m sorry, I know it must hurt you a lot,” Jackie tries, hands held out in a placating, confused gesture. “But you’re safe now! He’s dead and he can never hurt you aga-” 

Jackie is cut off as Jameson’s body slams into him, knocking them both to the floor. Jackie screeches as he falls back on the carpet of Jameson’s bedroom. He holds up his arms against a wave of punches Jameson tries to land on him. Fist after fist after fist coming down on him, Jameson whistling and breathing heavily, nearly wheezing in his fury. Jackie kicks out, sending Jameson tumbling backwards into the apartment wall. Chase and Henrik pop their heads out of their rooms at the commotion, each yelling and rushing towards the two on the floor as Jameson tenses and jumps at Jackie again, teeth gnashing and tears pouring down his face. 

Henrik rushes and grabs Jameson under the arms, lifting him up and away from Jackie, screaming for him to calm down. Jameson lashes and thrashes in his arms, trying to get at Jackie and land another punch, another bite, another kick. Henrik drags him back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. 

In the hallway Chase leans down next to a panting Jackie. Jackie has a bruise forming on his lip and right eye, scratch marks down his cheek, blood dripping from the clawed marks in his skin. 

“What the hell happened, man?” Chase asks, eyes slightly wild and scared from the sudden violence.

“I... I told him about Anti. Told him what we did, that he’s gone now,” Jackie mumbles. “I thought he’d be happy. I thought he’d be happy we set him free.” 

Chase just shakes his head, lifting Jackie up to take him to the bathroom to clean him up. Jackie cries and mumbles as he’s pulled along, feeling deep inside like he’s failed somehow, even with the monster dead, he’s failed. 

Back in Jameson’s bedroom, Henrik holds him back from behind as Carver throws fists and tries to bang his head on the bedframe. 

“Calm down! You are going to calm down. You are going to be okay but you must listen to me. Leisse, leisse, liebse.” Henrik soothes, trying to pet his hair through the swinging fists and thrashing legs. Jameson slows, barely able to breathe through his emotions, sliding down in Henrik’s arms, panting from his fury. But he is calmer, tears pouring silently down his face, head hanging low. 

“What is wrong with you, liebse?”

“Anti,” Jameson signs the familiar name, A-knife, “Anti is dead. My brother. My twin. They killed him? Tell me he was lying?” Jameson’s eyes are scrunched closed as he signs, tears wetting his shirt collar as they drip off his nose. Henrik doesn’t know how to answer, choosing instead to just hug Jameson to his chest, petting his back softly. 

“I’m sorry, JJ. I’m sorry. He’s gone. But you’re free. Never have to worry about him stealing you from your happy home.” 

Jameson only responds by gripping his fists into Henrik’s shirt, crying harder. Henrik hugs him close and rocks them through JJ’s tears and rage and grief.  

The whole house distracted by tears and blood, no one notices the flickering lights, nor the high whine of electricity in the air and the smell of oil and blood. 

Why would they be looking anyway? Anti is dead. 

Right? 

[spooderboyandtincan]

Peter stepped into Stark Tower, covering his mouth as he yawned. Tony hadn’t been able to pick him up today because of a board meeting and was going to send Happy up, but Peter told him he wouldn’t mind walking to the tower.

Tony, always the overprotective dad, had insisted he walk instead of swing in broad daylight, where he would be an obvious red and blue target.

He’d grumbled about in their group chat with May, but he really didn’t mind. He liked to stroll through the crowds, his earbuds in, blasting his favorite playlist and blocking out any other noises.

Peter yawned once again, the air conditioner making him shiver. He strolled cheerfully towards the elevator, excited for his lab time and movie night with Mr. Stark.

He began to say, “FRI, penthouse, please,” when a loud voice interrupted him.

“Hey, you! Kid! Stop right there!”

Peter froze and turned around. Two security guards marched up to him. He had never seen them before, but Mr. Stark had mentioned something the other day about “new staff” and “better security,” so he assumed they were new.

“You’re not allowed to be here,” she said, her tall figure towering above him. 

“B-but- I am, really! I’m an intern here, ask anyone!” He knew he sounded hysterically and completely unbelievable, but the sight of the two of the guards made his spidey sense bounce in his brain like an extra fast screensaver in an old tv. Probably because they had their hands on their tasers. Had the security guards always had tasers?

“Okay, kid, either you leave or we’ll make you,” said the shorter man. 

“But-” he began. 

Then a jolt of electricity ran through him. The guard shoved her taser back in its holster, and Peter fell to the ground, twitching violently. She bent and slung him over her shoulder. What he could glimpse of her face for a brief second, she was wearing a malicious grin.

His vision was blurry, his eyes burning, and he realized too late that there was no one else in the building with them. (Oh geez, where was everyone?)

These were not security guards. 

Peter struggled weakly as he was carried to the doors, earning a slap to the cheek. His kidnappers peeked out to see if the coast was clear, then ran to a van parked in front of the doorway.

The teen was thrown unceremoniously in the back, now handcuffed, blinded and gagged, attached to a metal pole. He heard the van door lock, then the pair jumped in. Peter yanked against his cuffs and squirmed around, trying to escape before the van started.

It was no use. The engine rumbled and they pulled away from Stark Tower. He tried the cuffs again, using all his strength, but all it did was send a shooting pain up his wrists.

Where did they get vibranium? As far as Peter knew, that was the only thing that could hold him if he wasn’t weak or sedated. Usually his kidnappers used flimsy metal he could break in a split second. In fact, the only time he’d been locked in vibranium handcuffs was when he’d once been captured by-

Hydra.

Oh shit.

Peter stopped trying to break the cuffs and moved  to work on the metal he was tied to, which was a bit of a struggle with the blindfold. He was about to give it a hard push, when the van stopped suddenly and he was thrown against the back seat.

Peter struggled to blink away the stars in his eyes, wishing he could pull the blindfold off to see what was happening. He could hear tires screeching and cars smashing into another, along with the familiar humming and whirring of the Iron Man suit.

Something blasted through the window and the two Hydra agents cried out. The doors opened and he heard them getting out and yelling. Peter winced when their shouts were cut silent.

There was another repulsor blast, and a few seconds later the door was yanked open with such force it broke off.

“Peter?!”

Tony. 

Peter smiled through the filthy cloth in his mouth. His blindfold and gag were pulled off gently, and he opened his eyes to find Tony’s terrified face hovering in front of him. 

“Pete- oh baby, are you okay?” he asked frantically. He cupped Peter’s face and kissed his forehead, feeling his head for bumps or blood. He felt along his ribs for breaks and then, satisfied he wasn’t hurt, pulled him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Can’ breathe,” Peter wheezed. “M’sser Stark, can’ breathe!”

Tony’s arms loosened slightly, kissing the top of his head. “Sorry, bud, sorry. I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay? What did they do to you?” He pulled back to see Peter’s face. “Shit, did they hit you?!” He gently rubbed the red mark on his cheek. “Dammit.”

“I’m okay. Really, I promise. I’m fine,” Peter assured him. “But these handcuffs- um, they’re vibranium, I think, um…”

Tony blinked in surprise. “Do they know about Spider-Man?”

Peter shook his head. “N-no, I don’t think so.”

Tony sighed in relief and kissed his forehead. “Okay. Okay, honey, let’s get you out of these.” He engaged his gauntlet and hugged Peter, pulling him away from the pole. A thin, red laser cut through his chains, controlled by Tony’s steadily careful hand. 

When he was free, the boy leaned forward and slumped against his strong chest, massaging his wrists. Tony gave a small gasp when he saw the red, bloody marks. “Oh, baby.” He rubbed the irritated skin of his wrist gently, then brought his hand up to his face and kissed the marks tenderly.

The boy leaned against him heavily, Tony’s worn, gentle hands combing through his hair. “Buddy, you can’t fall asleep just yet. We’ve gotta let Dr. Cho make sure you’re okay.”

Peter grumbled into his chest, rolling his eyes as Tony picked him up and carried him back into Stark Tower, telling FRIDAY to bring them up to the medbay where Dr. Cho would meet them. He protested vehemently to being carried into the medbay, but Tony didn’t let him down no matter how much he squirmed.

“You’ll need a straightjacket for him,” Tony advised as he lay Peter on the bed and sat next to him. 

Cho snorted quietly, hurrying forward. She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm and placed her fingers on his wrist. “What happened?”

“Hydra happened,” Tony answered grimly. He shivered at the thought. His kid. His baby. Hydra. He pulled his kid close, squeezing him tight and pressing long kisses to the top of his head.

Peter blinked rapidly when Helen shined a light in his eye. Tony tenderly wiped away the tears brimming in his eyes from the bright light. 

His kid.

Hydra.

He could have been kidnapped, tortured, or worse-

No, don’t think of that. Don’t.

It wouldn’t happen, never, he wouldn’t allow it. It wasn’t possible.

Peter looked up at him, his big bambi eyes wide and innocent. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark?”

“Nothing, bambino, it’s okay,” he murmured, caressing his cheek fondly. “I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetheart.”

“You’re right Tony, he’s doing great. A little bump on the head, and I’m going to put some ointment on his wrists just to make sure they heal up, but other than that he’s perfectly fine.”

Tony sighed in relief, and great weight lifting off his chest. In celebration he kissed Peter’s soft cheek and grinned, watching with an overprotective eye as Helen bandaged his wrists. 

“Mr. Stark. I’m okay,” the teen insisted. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I’ll always be worried about you, baby.”

“That’s a fact…. Uh, can we watch Hocus Pocus?” 

“Yeah, kiddie, of course we can.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

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[captainkurosolaire]

Heavy Ammunition

Undone from defeat the Ser now turned into a nightmarish knight of a chipped skull. Began moving his lower-extremities. All them prone and wheezing or unconscious. Silv’a stayed above. Like he always was anyway in his viewing beliefs. Glowering with resentment at Judas. Animosity laid with that one the most of all. If his older age and wisdom didn’t act on intuition his plan would all be foiled. By the most plain of the lot. Execution was being readied to be served up as the thawed bone’s arm began skeletal functioning between.

“Shalt have to disagree with you most unpleasantly. O’ dread, I beseech you to meet red-comet. Often fate can sting like a piercing hornet.” A lute played in string. Before a rocketing crimson-lance of bottom hilt flashfire swept over and sent the puppeted knight being attached and stuck to the wall from impalement. With such a terrifying might.

An obnoxious laughter of jolly a battle-thirstier. As a Roe came inbound following suit with thuds of heaviness. “It’s so difficult to watch my strength within this dinky little hole.” Even though the chamber’s were massive the building wouldn’t be able to contest with his fire which was unfortunately too risky to use with allies. The last squadron of the Crew showed up in a pair five. A lalafell brought in a beach chair and propped it down and sat down just drinking her juice. Now the reinforced firepower had arrived. Facepalming while enthusiastically screaming Silv’a “Really more?!!?! They just keep lining up to die!” Irritation was demonically being infused as his undoing. This Band of Gold was truly an annoying bunch. One falls another to take front and center. It actually benefited them that they were all distant apart and didn’t all arrive at once. The louder gallant voice of Roe heartily broke a shout, “Kid ya’ alive?” Captain mumbled between the floor. Gark quipped, “Kay.” He'd take that as enough. A viera hopped with a spiritedly step before leaping over and coming between the duo of Noble and Captain. “Sorry we’re late. Me-Me wanted a detour, she insisted… You know how it goes.” She bubbly said. The Lalafell kept slurping on her straw with the continent with a massive slurpee. That terrifying um, ‘little’ menace was quite possibly the most fearsome of all the mates. Don’t refer to her by any tiny stature or treat her as such. Captain just murmured <Mmm-hmm> trying to remind, of mortally bleeding out over here and in agony. The short Viera huffed her puffy cheeks before recognizing what she needed to do and began grabbing the duo by the wrists to drag into a corner away from the center again and get into obstruction. “I’ll have to decline you. Those sinners haven’t suffered enough. I’ve grown to want them to see me in succeeding with all this resistance, have a taste and join them would you!” An intense fire came hurling at the preoccupied bunny who’s pink hue sparked defenselessly. Water came raining and doused it effortlessly. Two prayer hands together came with a Sea-Maiden looking Roe woman now intervening. “Gark. I shall contend with the Caster, would you please rid the Knight?” A bone crackling thud of his own collar bone snapped out a muscle knot, “Gladly m’lady.” He’d chivalrously advance with clacks of chain-mail, draconic by the etching making. The material would make the most experienced blacksmith quite impressed. Right when Silv’a nearly cradled this end he foolishly met a dinging bell signaling this was still to begin. Among the Crew. There was a structure of power-hierarchy when it came to independence and also those who excelled better in support or team. Each matey held their own extreme weaknesses and flaws whether personality, or, ability. Some weren’t yet pushed or aware of them. Whilst others with their age nearly were incomprehensible with their battle prowess and room commandment. Far above even their own Captain escapades. Weak or strong it mattered little for the same course required all but the tentatively steer of all roles aboard that’s what ruled reign to spoil in all the hoards. Sheik Sphere jotted down this entertaining showdown for the records. Never losing his passion to share and kindle this with fellow passionate readers or to sing it among those of all. While he never combated harm. He had a unique unwavering charisma to avoid it personally remaining seen as too neutral. This was literature fascinating to savor! The matron Sea Wolf gingerly came advancing in against this most heinous. Her white-shark spectacles were softened with a brow. Almost showing pity for this demon. By some strange sensation she felt too eerily familiar as if something was buried beneath every depth of the surface. Trying to explore it would certainly risk drowning and being sunken to the bottomless sea. Her posing pray set him off, radiating apologies. His demonical outlook would handle this manner. One swift hand motion he’d unleash a wall of icy that rapidly drew forth her aspected water was meaningless to his mastery. While it may be true. Elastically watering the most manipulatively potent she stacked and built a tide large enough to withhold density and overly reach bigger heights than his initial walls. Closing her eyes. “Thine trencherman born salt to sea, I call upon thee, children of the deep!” Intense powerful glowering of her irises came as the ice and water connected, freezing at the surface and spreading rapidly. Before trident’s broke through as two conjured Sahagin Egi’s came bellowing out with their own glowing golden eyes.   Their flipper leave the containment, and puncture the demon from midair in the shoulder each. One more elementally made, while the other was scale made and naturally. “Ravage thou land-savages who bring equal pain throughout the sea.” Each of them growing empowered by her boisterous wishes. “He who hurts until one welts, deserves the tide’s sweeping without remorse.” They kept piercing the demonical wizard over and over unrelentingly with a feverishness. His immortality made quite resilient. Organs constantly being gushingly punctured like tarp bait flapping over a boat. Each erupting step of blood from his puncturing and mouth.

He found wherewithal to grapple their trident’s and conduct electricity attempting to fry the Sahagin from the link as the one who was more watery based let go and vaporized it was rapidly reformulating. The scale seemed null too as it didn’t let up. Before lifting up the kabob pierced the treacherous foe and let him go upstream into the ceiling from a non relenting geyser. Pinned he was struggling to contend with this might, unable to get his counter in. Her magic didn’t grow weaker, it was continuously building up and getting more vast. She fearsome conveyed as a magnificent threat he identified. Ever overpowering wrath he began trying to loosen it but he wasn’t finding success. To attempt to resist the current was a foul law he wouldn’t find. He brought upon his ice only for the temperature of the water to become steaming hot. The Inside and entire body was screeching in boiling water. A merging water induced egi found it’s regeneration and binding into the same waters only able to reformulate acidic properties, make the water start melting flesh. Reaching out his fingers he’d point outwardly in the distance before a humongous fallen column pillar broken in half came wedging between him and the hard place and then engulfing the geyser’s source using telekinesis. Which gave destruction to the combined aetherial Egi. Shaking completely before charging at the other Scaly-Egi before the other could pursue. Grappling it’s face and soaring himself with a push of heel electrical aether he’d return that favor of being dismantled against the wall. A trident once again snagged into him and linked the duo close. Regeneration was slow because of the acid as equally contesting the forces. His own palm began to get the same from grappling the jaws of this beastkin. Flame came out of SIlv’a as a response as they would wager against each other two destructiveness. The trident began again creating a vortex of water trying to push and repel him away from the wall or once again setting Silv’a back but his demoniacal fury became even more enlarged and massively maddened.                         (Previous) << (Voidal Relics) >> (Next)

[nicklightbearer]

whatever here is the fic

we happy few, nick lightbearer is once again hunted by foggy jack but this time he fights back. just..... not.... well.

this is a tickling fanfic fair warning <3

“Nick.. Nick!”

Rolling over, Nick Lightbearer grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head.

“Virgiiiiiiiiillll.. Five more minutes…” “In five minutes you’ll be dead, idiot! Up, up!”

Nick blinked a few times before feeling a small something land on his stomach- with a high-pitched screech, he sat bolt upright, scrambling to throw the blankets off. There was an oof! from the floor where they landed, and Nick shivered as he peered over the bed.

A rat. There had been a rat- wait- Virgil?

“.. What? What! You’re dead! I- I already avenged you- what do you want now??”

The rat huffed indignantly.

“Well, maybe I’m trying to keep your stupid arse alive, huh? He’s headed here already- so put some pants on, for god’s sake, and find a weapon!” “He? He who?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Who do you think??”

Who would- ah bollocks. Nick leapt to his feet, clutching at the wall for support as his head spun. God, even the reds and yellows were wearing on him..

“Foggy- Foggy Jack?? But I- I thought he-“ “Oh, come on. Put two and two together, Nicky.” “Ooh, if you weren’t dead, I’d right love to throttle you for the stupid vague clues…”

Virgil wheezed out a laugh that made Nick roll his eyes as he dug through the dresser.

“You may have blasted the bastard right hard, but it’d take more than a riff or two to kill a man. He’s more starstruck than ever, now.” “See, that wasn’t so hard! Straight answers, Virg, straight answers!”

The room wavered again and Nick cursed angrily as he toppled over trying to pull his slacks up.

“Who taught you how to quip back, huh?” “Could have something to do with the fuckin’.. Broken mood booth outside.”

Grumbling, he finally managed to stand up and pull his pants up proper, tugging on his jacket with only a moment’s hesitation. The blue one, yes, he’d rather wear dark colors if he’s hiding from a serial killer.

“Anyway- where is he now?”

There was a pause, and Nick looked up. The rat was gone.

“Virgil..? Dammit.”

A sudden jiggling of his door handle made him gasp, and he backed away before bolting towards the window.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckit in a bucket, ooh, I don’t have my-“

The front door splintered under a heavy blow, and Nick squealed another curse to himself before nearly leaping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

”Guitar!” “Mr. Lightbearer.. Do open up, please! I brought ahh.. Some whiskey! A gift from a fan!”

It almost gave him pause before he shook his head wildly.

“No, no. Focus, Nicky!”

He cast his gaze around the room in a panic. Empty pill bottles littered the sink and floor, and he shoved a few of them out of the way to rummage through the cabinet. Nothing.

Nothing but a plunger next to the toilet- though he considered it, the flimsy weight felt more useless than his own fists, and he discarded it quickly.

That left.. the tub.

Wait. The tub! He leaned over to whip the curtain back, and cringed slightly at the sight of the woman inside- thank god, she was clothed. But in her hand was his goal- just last night, he’d been on the.. Receiving end of…

Pulling it carefully from her grasp, he sighed in relief before jolting at the sound of the door splintering again. Fuck, fuck! He couldn’t let Jack see this poor bird- wait-

Checking her pulse, he sighed in relief. Okay, problem for later. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman woke up alone in his house. He quickly pushed out the door again, closing it and jiggling the lock just to make sure it wouldn’t open again- yep!

Then again, that left only himself and the eye that now peered through his former front door, which was largely splintered to bits. He backed up a little before dashing to his bedroom, both hoping and not hoping that Jack would follow.

“Ohh, Mr. Lightbearer… Nicky~!” The slip from formal to a deeper purring tone sent a shiver down the rockstar’s spine, and he clutched at his makeshift weapon nervously as he pushed his back against the door.

“Hey, lock it and get back, idiot! He just broke the other one down, what happens when he slams an axe through this one??” “Virgil- ooh, you’re right!”

He’s always right. Nick jumped back, casting his gaze around the room after clicking the lock shut. Not much to work with, really, but he could.. He could hide- er- well, the closet would be too obvious, right? Or would it be so obvious that he wouldn’t check?

“No, he knows you’re stupid, Nick. Fucksakes.” “Well, what- ooh!”

Pulling open the dresser drawers, he started throwing clothes on the floor next to the window. The rat perched on top of the dresser sighed as he watched, but Nick ignored him for the moment.

“And what, pray tell, is the plan here? D’you have a gun you never told me about? A machete? Hell, even a baseball bat-” “No- I’m fine for weapon, thanks. This is- well- you’ll see!”

Shouldn’t say it out loud, not with how the door groaned as a weight was thrown against it. Nick shuddered as he pushed the clothes haphazardly closer to the wall, then scooted behind the curtain. The pile on the floor was enough to hide his feet- and the curtains were against a black window, so no light would give him away…

It wasn’t perfect. But if the closet was checked first, he’d have the upper hand.

The door splintered after only a few more hits, and Nick held his breath. He could just barely see through the fabric, having his face so close- and seeing Jack again, albeit this time with a slightly more ruffled appearance, made his heart leap into his throat. Terror was enough to keep his fist gripping the weapon, and he watched with wide eyes as the killer stalked into the room, the red glimmer from his own eyes casting an eerie light over the room as a cloud of fog rolled in after him.

It was nothing if not dramatic, he mused, almost inspired by the sight if he hadn’t been fearing for his life.

Jack hummed to himself as he glanced around the room, the familiar tune to Cheer Up bringing a grimace to Nick’s face. Genuinely, the guy was still a fan- it felt bad to be holding a weapon towards any fan for any reason, but..

Seeing the glittering knife that Jack held whipped his perspective back instantly. Fuck, this guy was absolutely bonkers- though, granted, that only made him feel worse- he couldn’t afford to be wishy-washy about this!

As predicted, Jack didn’t even notice the curtains, instead peering under the bed before turning towards the closet.

“Nick, Nick, Nick… Really, I can’t believe you’d let yourself be cornered so easily. Really, I expected more resistance. No activated security system-”

Fuck! He’d forgotten to turn it on in his drunken stupor the night before!

“No bobbies to guard the house, and not a single manager in sight.. Oh, wait!”

A flash of anger nearly made him leap out right there- but no, he’d wait and bide his time.. For just the right moment…

As Jack grasped the handle on the closet, Nick tensed.

“I suppose you don’t have one of those, do you?”

He flung the doors wide with a taunting laugh that died slowly, his outstretched arms lowering with confusion.

“What..?”

Now!

Nick leapt from his hiding place, nearly tripping on all the clothes but somehow managing to stumble so that he was standing on the bed- not unlike someone hiding away from a mouse, except the mouse was a person and that person had a big knife with his name on it, possibly literally.

However, his unsure footing made him miss his target of ‘back of the skull, god, please let me just knock him out’ and instead slam the instrument across Jack’s back. The impact made him tense, and he squeezed the handle nervously-

Only for electricity to zip out of it, making his palms tingle as the killer gasped. Oh, fuck on a stick.

But.. Something was off. Rather than immediately whipping to stab him, Jack stumbled, slamming against the dresser and clutching at his suit.

“What- what in the blazes-”

Well, no time for hesitation! He swung again, this time holding the button down with purpose. Anything to catch this guy off guard, right? It was also far easier to tap repeatedly at his body rather than his head, and… It worked.

Somehow, it worked. Jack’s arms were glued to his sides and he shimmied away from the assault, expression shifting from a confused pout to a more.. Well, his cheeks puffed out and he cringed, but a smile still seemed to tug at his lips. This smile was different, though, and seemed far more genuine than the mask let on.

“Stop- hey, stop! What- waha- wait!”

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Foggy Jack. Serial killer, menace to society, his personal fuckin’ stalker….. Was ticklish.

Okay. Okay. Well, this information was definitely going to be put to use- let’s see- right the fuck now. Nick slid down from the bed, using the Tickler to bop Jack closer to it- an easy task, given that he nearly tripped himself right onto it. With a quick push.. Perfect!

Foggy Jack was now on his bed. Disheveled, covering his mouth to hold back giggles, and with an expression bordering on infatuation shining out from behind his hand.

For a minute, he was stunned, before remembering the knife. Glancing down, though- oh, he wasn’t holding it. He’d dropped it- there, on the floor.

Jeez, it was almost like he didn’t want to kill Nick.

….. Shelving that thought to dwell on later, Nick grinned with as much menace as he could muster.

“Well, well, well. Ya know, mister Foggy Jack, you’re not half so scary like this.”

Jack yelped as the Tickler was pushed squarely against the middle of his stomach, trying to grab it but letting go quickly as Nick tapped the button a few times. The sensations of light electricity dancing across his torso quickly gave rise to more giggles, ones that he could hardly hold back for all the delight he clearly felt.

“Really! Sheesh, if I’d known about this before, all this lot of stuff would have been so much easier.. Hey, arms up!”

Nick huffed, pushing the arms that seemed nearly glued to his sides before just wiggling a hand between sleeve and shirt. For practiced fingers like his, coaxing out more shocked laughter was easy- and with the Tickler now running up and down his stomach, Jack finally broke.

“Waihihihit! No- stop! St- ahaha! It tickles!” “Well, I sure fuckin’ hope it does, lovely… That’s the point.”

Though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle things from here. Sure, he could wear out Jack and- wait, perfect. He’d just tickle the man until he properly passed out, then run and find a bobby. Perfect!

Though, as he watched the man writhe beneath him, escalated to proper laughter as skilled fingers squeezed at his sides and the Tickler continued tormenting his stomach, he was a tad hesitant. The ticklish near-agony that made shrieks ring out was… Hm, fun!

As he listened to more of that adorably broken-up laughter, he wondered how addicting this sort of drug might be.

“PLEHEASE- DON’T- DON’T TICKLE ME- IHI CAN’T, I CAN’T TAKE IT! M- MAHAHA- NNNNICK!” “That’s Mr. Lightbearer to you, mister Foggy. Go on, ask me proper to quit, maybe I’ll think about it. Probably not.” “Mr. Light- eehee! Lightbeareheher! Please!” “Please what??” “Plehehease- dOHON’T! Stoooohohop tickling mehehe!” “Don’t stop tickling you? Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart!”

Though the petname didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, Nick chose to eliminate any chance of a response by ducking down- the sudden closeness of their faces made Jack go silent, breathless with both laughter and starstruck awe. Nick winked before ducking his face down and  blowing a raspberry right against his neck, sliding the Tickler to press down against his torso again.

The response was immediate. Jack flailed wildly and cackled, beating at Nick’s back weakly as he choked out wordless pleas. Of course, none of them were heeded, and a few more raspberries were instead strategically placed on the man’s neck. In all his years, even knowing that most people were at least a little ticklish around the face (due to the masks, certainly), he’d never garnered a reaction quite this intense. Must be extra sensitive- therefore, weak, and the wheezes between laughs made Nick grin.

It was honestly.. Kinda cute. He was glad that his goal was to tickle the man to pieces, since otherwise he’d normally give a break by now.

As the struggling became weaker, and the laughs reached pitches that frequently dipped into silent snorts, Nick hummed to himself. Now would be a good a time as ever to drop a little.. Finale, let’s say. He pulled back for a moment, easily readjusting their positions- now, with Jack laying limply on the bed and only weakly with his arms linked around his waist, he climbed on after him properly. It wasn’t hard to sit above his prey, wiggling his fingers a little for extra effect- and relishing in the burst of giggles and flinch- before tapping his chin.

“Now, let’s see.. Something tells me you’re nearly tuckered out. But I’m not quite done, oh no.” “N.. No??”

Something about the way his voice was suddenly softer, even shy in a way- it made Nick’s stomach do a few flips.

“No! Of course not. You’ve been awful rude, banging my door down and threatening me. But I can put that behind us.”

Bending down again, he placed a hand on either side of Jack’s head, their faces nearly touching- once again, Jack held his breath, eyes wide.

“.. Close your eyes for me, Jacky.”

The speed at which his hesitation faded to nervousness, then to giddy anticipation.. It was adorable. Jack finally closed his eyes, then covered his face with a shuddering giggle.

From there, it was easy for Nick to unbutton his jacket- and even easier to bury his face against Jack’s stomach, nibbling through the shirt and earning a new set of squeals.

“No! No- ahaha- ooh, you-!” “Go on, give me a laugh! Just for me, Jacky! Ooh, those could be lyrics..”

He hummed a bit with the idea before returning to his previous actions- and it wasn’t long before the laughter died down, Jack barely writhing beneath him. Nick sat up eventually, finally giving it a rest as he watched the killer gasp a few times before he was silent.

… He leaned forward to check for a pulse. Yep. Hammering away, actually, but calming down.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to do. Sitting back on Jack’s legs, he gazed down, watching him sleep with a foggy confusion building in the back of his skull.

Sure, a bobby might.. Be able to help. But he was so tired. And Jack was warm- warmer than he expected, and…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. He did crawl over to the side of the bed to push the knife under the dresser, first, but.. Yes, a nap.

Popping a spare Joy he found under one of his shirts, he flopped onto the bed, resolving to take care of the matter later. It was probably fine.

[wildcardaces]

@ruby-static "oops feedback loop" edition!

Welcome back to blizzy birthday 2 electric boogaloo!

Anna: happy birthday kid!

Blizzy: thank you!

Anna 1 minute later: the passage of time is scary...

Anna accidentally creates an infinite loop because oh dear-

Dan: the passage of time is scary...

Dan and dot: the passage of time is scary...

Anna: what the fuck-

Shes got these two to begin on the endless screech into the void of time. Mood tbh-

Shawn: dont worry anna they do this every year.

Shawn has grown used to it XD

And the finale!

Blizzy: it's MY birthday and i get to choose the game we all play!

Blizzy proceeds to start a game of jackbox party and it all goes to hell *WHEEZE*

[thecasperanfamily]

Can we get a sock monkey part two? Maybe taking place in the present?

(Link to Part One)

I am sooooo sorry about the delay on this one. First I had a solid week of ADHD Brain Doing Its Thing, then a dentist appointment, then my bedroom flooded, then a migraine...ANYWAYS I hope this was worth the wait!

~~~~~

They say that behind every great wizard, there is a great witch. Whether or not this was a universal truth or just a nice-sounding sentiment someone came up with to discourage squabbling between witches and wizards, Lin couldn’t be sure. But he did know that it was true in his father’s case, if nothing else. Hisirdoux Casperan was an immensely powerful wizard in his own right, capable of feats of magic unlike anything seen since the age of the great Merlin Ambrosius. But he was also what Lin’s mother liked to affectionately call “a mess. An absolute disaster. Gods, it’s a marvel you’ve survived this long.” To which Douxie would inevitably reply with, “The only marvel is you, my love.” And Lin would always immediately leave the room because he had no desire to witness whatever came after that. But Douxie did have a point, albeit one that felt a bit lost underneath all the sap and sentimentality. The fact of the matter was that Master Wizard Hisirdoux Casperan likely couldn’t be a Master Wizard without his wife. Archie could protect Douxie in battle, Nari could heal and encourage him, but Zoe was their last and strongest line of defense. Be it a desperate struggle against an ancient and horrifying monster or simply keeping the household running, when all others fell, she continued to stand, often pulling them back up and keeping them on their feet with her own strength. Douxie once said that he could face his own fears because he knew Zoe was standing fearless by his side.

In hindsight, he really should have chosen his words more carefully. Because when Lin handed his mother his oldest, most beloved toy from childhood and asked her to repair it, “fearless” certainly wasn’t what came to mind when beholding the look of intense discomfort on Zoe’s face as she eyed the offending object.

“...It looks normal to me,” she said stiffly.

“It....there’s a massive rip on her side?” Lin replied hesitantly. “That’s not supposed to be there. And Comet tore off one of her eyes, too.” The boy shifted awkwardly, still cradling the abomination in his hands, since Zoe had refused to touch it. “I-I mean, I know it’s stupid, but Georgina--uh, I mean, this old thing...it means a lot to me. Been with me for a long time, and all. I just--”

“Fine, fine, I’ll patch it up for you,” Zoe blurted, snatching the cursed thing from his hands. “Now go get ready for school. You’re running late as is.”

“...It’s Saturday,” Lin reminded her.

“Then go bother Archie or something. I can’t fix this thing if you’re breathing down my neck the whole time. Restorative magic requires concentration.”

“...I’ve seen you piece a broken mug back together in five seconds flat while also fighting the endgame boss of War Dudes 7.”

“Out, Lin.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands placatingly and swept out of the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder “Thanks, Mom!”

The moment he was out of sight, Zoe pitched the sock monkey as hard as she could against the opposite wall. It landed on the counter with a sad little flop, looking no less abominable for its current state of disrepair.

“I hate you,” she told it quietly. “I know you know I do. I can see it in your one remaining eye. I’ve endured your mockery of me for the past seventeen years for Lin’s sake, but this...” She raked her fingers through her bangs furiously. “...Oh, get a grip, Zoe,” she muttered. “It’s just a stuffed animal. It’s only ever been a stuffed animal. It will never best me. I’m one of the greatest hedgewitches of my time. I am Zoe Casperan, I am she who remains when the masters have fallen, I am--”

“Introducing yourself to someone, are you?”

Douxie was very fortunate that he did not touch Zoe when he spoke up from behind her, because the pulse of electricity that surged through her veins would have certainly laid him flat on his back for at least a week. As it was, Zoe’s wand was pointed at his throat before he could so much as blink, a few angry pink sparks spitting from the end.

“Woah, woah, okay, nope, bad time for jokes, I got it! Take it easy, love.”

“Don’t do that!” Zoe hissed, stuffing her wand back into her belt as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I could have hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Douxie replied, taking one of her hands and pressing an apologetic kiss to her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sweet.” Zoe grumbled. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting you from what, exactly?”

“Lin wants me to patch up that...thing that Barbara gave him all those years ago.” She flapped a hand at the sock monkey sprawled pathetically across the counter.

“I didn’t even realize he still had that,” Douxie remarked, taking in the damage with a critical eye. “Mm. She’s certainly seen better days.”

“I want it to see worse,” Zoe seethed. “...But Lin still loves it, gods only know why.”

“Bit of a moral conundrum, eh? Take your vengeance on your worst enemy and break our son’s heart, or grant her mercy for Lin’s sake.”

“This isn’t funny, Douxie.”

“It is, just a little bit.”

“You know I can’t stand even looking at that reject voodoo doll. How am I supposed to cast a restoration spell when all I want to do is douse this thing in gasoline and throw it on a bonfire?”

“Attempting a restoration spell with that mindset would likely end very badly,” Douxie agreed. “My feelings towards the lady in question are far less hostile. Perhaps I should take this one for you.”

“No! No, I-I...” Zoe sighed and ran a hand through her bangs yet again. “...I don’t want this thing to get the better of me. I’ve never backed down from a challenge before, and I definitely don’t want this to be my first time. Besides, you’re pretty sloppy when it comes to restoration magic. Lin will know right away who performed the spell just by looking at it, and I don’t want him to feel like I let him down.”

“With the utmost respect, Zoe,” Douxie replied hesitantly. “I think Lin would prefer a messy patch job over the many ways this spell could backfire if you’re the one performing it. You do understand that swallowing your pride isn’t the same as cowardice, right?”

“Pride or not, I will not let my son experience the shame of knowing his mother was defeated by an ugly stuffed animal,” Zoe countered. She stalked up to the counter and arranged the bedraggled sock monkey carefully, nose wrinkling in disgust as she ran her fingers over the material.

“Zoe, darling--” Douxie tried to protest again.

“Shush. I need to concentrate.”

“I really think you ought to let me--”

“I said shush, Douxie. I know I can do this.” She brandished her wand and, with a few quick motions, guided her aura to surround the sock monkey, which began to float a few inches off the counter. She pushed back against the wave of revulsion that crashed over her as her spirit made contact with the cursed object, and managed to spit the spell out through clenched teeth. “Refectio.”

The moment the spell was activated, Zoe knew she had made a mistake. The feeling of disgust she had tried so hard to stifle refused to detach from her aura. Her magic flowed out of her in a hot, angry rush, and the sock monkey writhed and contorted as though possessed.

“Zoe!” Douxie pulled her back from the counter, arms wrapping around her as his own aura flared defensively. The sock monkey gave one final shudder, then flopped back onto the counter.

“It’s fine!” Zoe insisted. “Look, see? It’s fixed.” Indeed, the sock monkey appeared to have been restored to mint condition. The rip had closed, the missing eye had returned from wherever Comet had hidden it, and the old stuffing had softened and puffed out again. “I told you I could do it.”

“That could have been a disaster, Zoe,” Douxie scolded.

“Any spell has the potential to be a disaster,” she argued. “But I had to try. And I feel so much better now that--”

The sock monkey twitched.

Douxie’s arms tightened around her, and Zoe instinctively brandished her wand again. The toy twitched again. Then it shuddered. Then it flopped over. And then, like a phantom from a nightmare, rose to its feet and slowly turned to face them, black button eyes cold and lifeless.

“...Okay, yeah, this is a disaster,” Zoe breathed. The sock monkey hovered in place for a moment longer.

Then suddenly, it was zooming across the kitchen. Douxie shoved Zoe to the side, but the vengeful toy didn’t seem to notice her at all. It gleefully slammed into the Master Wizard’s head and began wrapping itself around his face. He stumbled back and fell against the counter, sending a few dirty dishes crashing to the floor as he clawed at the soft little demon that was attempting to suffocate him.

“NO!” Zoe screeched, and before she could think twice, there was a blinding flash of bright pink light and the crackling snap of a thunderbolt. The sock monkey exploded into a cloud of stuffing and fibers that fluttered to the floor and dissolved into ash.

Zoe dropped to her knees, wand still outstretched in her trembling hand. Douxie leaned back against the counter, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“...Well,” he wheezed. “At least you finally got your revenge.”

“...No. Oh, no no no,” Zoe whimpered, dropping her wand and burying her face in her hands. “Oh gods, what have I... Lin is going to... Gods, Douxie I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” She emerged from her hands to see him giving her a thumbs-up and a sympathetic smile.

“The only damage done was emotional,” he assured her. “...At least where I’m concerned.” His gaze drifted across the floor, taking in the ashes scattered all over it. Silence hung between them for a few long minutes. “...What do we do now?”

“...Do you have your phone on you?” Zoe asked. Douxie nodded. “Give it here.” He pulled the item in question out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. She scrolled through his contacts list until she found the name she was looking for, then pressed call. Douxie pulled himself to his feet and began searching for a broom. There was a click on the other end of the line.

“Barbara Lake speaking.”

“Hey, Barbara? It’s Zoe. ...Yeah, I’m using Douxie’s phone. Long story short, we’ve had a bit of an accident and I need to know where you got Lin’s sock monkey from...”

*****

“Hey, Lin.” Lin looked up from his sketchbook to find his mother standing in his bedroom doorway. “Catch.” She tossed a familiar grey and white figure at him.

“Wow. She looks like new,” he observed, turning the sock monkey over in his hands. “...Very new.”

“Yeah. That’s...why it took me longer than usual to fix her. Take good care of her, alright? I don’t want to have to fix her again any time soon.”

“Yep. Thanks, Mom.” He watched her leave, then looked back down at the toy. “...Huh. I don’t remember you ever having these tags, Georgina...” The sock monkey smiled up at him benignly. “Weird.” He shrugged and sat the stuffed animal up on his desk before bending over his sketchbook once more.

Meanwhile, Zoe went to brew herself a very strong cup of herbal tea.

A very special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author and @rikalovesrice for helping me with this one, and to @dreamsarelikedragonflies for beta reading. ✨

[when-to-sit-in-silence]

would you write something about Joyce being injured in the escape from Kamchatka? some hardcore angst :)))

Anon, I don’t know if this is what you had in mind, but I want to thank you for finally getting me to do something with this idea I’ve been kicking around for a while. 

Content Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence. 

Joyce didn’t think they’d ever reach the bottom of the staircase. Despite being more than capable of lifting her higher, the guards carrying her down would let her legs drag across the steps, sharp iron edges battering her shins and ankles. She tried not to struggle. One scream had already earned her an elbow to the side of the head that left stars still floating in and out of her peripheral vision, and every time she tried to raise her legs above the steps, the guards dropped her lower. Only now that they’d completed their descent down that long, dim stairwell did they hold her up again, hold her so she could see the fate awaiting her: this large, empty cell, into which water dripped from the ceiling and flooded the mottled cement floor. 

They tossed her inside and slammed the door with an echoing metallic roar. Joyce groaned, pushing herself slowly up to her feet. She’d wondered why the guards hadn’t put a bullet through her skull the second they got ahold of her, but now their plan was beginning to make sense. Murray and Hopper had slipped away, managing to dodge the spray of gunfire pelting after them, but the guards must have figured they wouldn’t leave Joyce behind. They’d come back. And then they were all dead. Joyce’s heart bore the weight of her dread, plunging for her stomach as she leaned against the cage-like wall confining her. 

The taller of the two guards made a remark to the other that Joyce couldn’t understand beyond his glance at an imaginary watch and a humorous chuckle. The other laughed along with him as he traveled from the cell door to this crank at the edge of the room. 

“Ah look, look,” the taller guard said, this time in English once he’d noticed Joyce watching his comrade. “She has no idea.”

The shorter guard clicked his teeth. “Must not have been here long enough to hear the stories, pretty lady.” 

He began turning the crank, and behind Joyce, a low rumble sounded from the adjacent concrete wall as a door slid slowly open. The guards stared with wide-open eyes, waiting, holding their breaths. And in the cell, Joyce squinted into the shadows. 

From that small dark space, she heard a low chittering, a sound that shot ice into her blood. 

Something - she knew exactly what - moved ever so slightly. But the sight of that familiar silhouette detonated an explosion of memories through her head. Joyce clung to the cage. She jolted it back and forth in hopes she had the strength to tear it down, the way that thing had been able to stretch and warp the walls in her house like they’d been made of cellophane. Joyce could see a thousand little lights flashing all around her. Joyce could hear the voices of people she loved crying out in pain. Joyce could feel the desperation of her son urging her to run away. Fast as she could. Run. Run. R - U - N. 

Joyce pulled at and kicked the cage wall. She released a cry for mercy in a language neither she or the guards could understand. She could barely see them. She could barely see anything. Joyce has never been so blinded by fear in all her life, mind reminding her all at once in a hundred vivid details why exactly she had to be so afraid. Monster in the wall. Smell of blood. Life being ripped away right in front of her face. Over and over again. 

A snarl rippled her direction. Joyce glanced over her shoulder and went totally frozen. It emerged. Step by step. It’s fleshy, slimy skin catching in the sickly artificial light. A round, faceless head ascending as it shifted from all fours to its feet to loom far above her.

It’s flower-shaped mouth opened wide with a howl. 

R - U - N.

Joyce screamed and ducked out of the way as it lunged. A sharp metal clang burst through the air, the Demogorgan crashing right into the wall where she’d been standing. She saw the guards back several paces away, their expressions a reflection of something halfway between dread and wonder while they flickered in and out of clarity. Her head was spinning. She didn’t know where she was standing anymore, but she could hear the Demogrogan’s growls, could hear its feet splashing in the water. Joyce backed the other direction until she hit what must’ve been the opposite wall. There was nowhere to go that wouldn’t leave her cornered.

“Help,” she wheezed. Voice caught somewhere in her throat, she doubted the guards could hear her, even if, by some miracle, they would have listened. “Help me, please.” 

She felt for the gun they’d taken from her several minutes ago. She had nothing. 

The Demogorgan was faster than any person she’d ever seen. It charged from the cage wall towards her, and it was only because she’d put a few meters of distance between it and herself that she evaded its attack a second time, but her escape was narrow and she hit the ground. Joyce didn’t wait. She tore off a boot and launched it at the creature, watching it soar past its head. The second struck it in the mouth. Sharp teeth bit into leather as Joyce scrambled back to her feet, and within seconds, the boot was in scraps, dropping to the floor piece by piece. 

She was going to die here. 

She was going to die like Bob. 

She was going to die and never come back and if there was any one thing to be grateful for, it was that nobody she loved was there to see it. Not like she had been when the Demodogs tore Bob’s chest wide open. Not like the sight she couldn’t get out of her head - until her last breath at least, until this monster put her out of that misery. 

Joyce inched herself across the wall. A part of her was still hanging on to something, whether it was the fear of knowing the sting of its teeth or this rage burning somewhere inside the icy grip of terror, she knew she didn’t want to let it win. She had no idea what it would cost, but Joyce wouldn’t let it win. Not again. Not after so much had already been taken from her, not while she was in the middle of trying to take some of it back. 

Amidst the sounds of Joyce’s labored breathing and the Demogorgan’s snarls as it approached her again, the shorter guard released a shout that momentarily distracted them both. He and his comrade disappeared from the room back towards the stairwell, and Joyce winced as a flurry of gunshots rattled through the space. A cacophony of crashing boots up and down the iron steps also briefly grabbed the interest of the Demogorgan, whose radial jaw shivered closed as it turned towards the source of the noise. 

Joyce tried to slip away. She wanted to make it to the door, see if she could stick her fingers through gaps in the cage and unfasten the lock, but at the sign of her movement, the Demogorgan lashed out again, this time with its hand. Joyce gasped as its claws caught in her hair, yanking her back hard enough to send a dull, shooting pain firing down the back of her neck. She started to fall, but she reached out for the bars to help her pull herself back upright. It jerked her closer again, and Joyce twisted to pull her hair out of the Demogrogan’s grip -

Just in time to watch as its other hand dashed out, raking across her face so fast she didn’t register what had happened until she had been pitched hard onto the ground. 

Sharp, hot, searing pain, flaring out from her left eye like a burst of flame. Joyce was screaming. Something warm flowed freely across her skin, dripping into her hair and down her neck. She couldn’t see. She really couldn’t see. She’d gone blind with the agony. She might’ve been slipping out of consciousness already. Her own voice sounded far enough away not to belong to her anymore.

Somebody cried out. Somebody that wasn’t her. Another series of gunshots fired off, closer than before. Joyce’s hands flew up to cover her ears. Her fingers were drenched in blood in seconds. And the Demogorgan screeched. 

She thought she heard her name. 

Joyce sank her fingernails into her scalp. The pain in and around her eye was so great, she could feel it everywhere. She pulled at her own hair. She tried to keep herself from sliding away. 

No. Stay, Joyce. Stay. 

She could hardly think through the agony. 

She heard her name again. 

More gunshots. 

Metal clashes. 

Demogorgan snarls. 

Words. She didn’t know what they were, but she knew they were English. 

She started to see. Flickering light. The color red. 

She wiped some of the blood from her face. It was quickly replaced. 

No. No. This wasn’t going to work. She was going to black out. 

Her eye. 

Her eye.

It was…

The Demogorgan roared again. Joyce could hear the sound of bullets striking its skin. It was there. It was right there over her. 

Like an electric current swam through her body, Joyce spasmed. The Demogorgan’s claws descended towards the floor on either side of her head. 

It was close. 

She could feel it breathing. 

“No!” Somebody shouted. There was the groan of something iron. There was a another round of shots. Close. 

Joyce blinked into shiny flesh-colored lips, trembling with a growl. 

It was going to kill her. 

“Joyce!”

She turned her head. She could get one last look at him. One last half-look with one last good eye. 

The Russian guards were on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. So was Murray. He sat up with a hand pressed to a bleeding shoulder, watching her. 

And Hopper. 

He stood in the doorway, rifle aimed the Demogorgan. 

A handgun at his feet. Hers. The one the guards had taken.

He slid it across the floor. 

It hit Joyce’s hand.

The thought clicked in her mind just in time. Bullets couldn’t penetrate its thick skin. But maybe…

Her grasp closed around the handgun as the Demogorgan’s mouth unhinged. She aimed it up at its face, and without a moment of hesitation, she shot her arm up at the same instant it chose to lunge. Dozens of razor sharp teeth pierced through her sleeve and sank like thorns into her skin. Joyce bit her lip so hard, she drew blood, an agonized wail released behind a tightly clenched jaw.

The Demogorgan’s throat convulsed. Its teeth ripped a new direction into her arm. Dazed with pain, Joyce started losing her grip on the handgun, lodged somewhere down its esophagus, until she found the trigger again and - 

“Now!” Hopper cried. 

Bang!

The Demogorgan heaved her arm out of its mouth as liquid howl bubbled through the air. Joyce shot again, and another bullet fired down its throat. It hurled itself backwards, launching away from her. Joyce watched it stumble into the wall, listened to it gurgle and retch and snarl. Her vision darkened. The gun clattered to the floor.

She was light as air. She was floating. But those were only Hopper’s arms, scooping her limp form up off the the ground and carrying her out of the cell. The door was locked. 

“Go!” he ordered Murray. They began mounting the stairwell. Joyce spat out blood. She gazed up at Hopper’s pale, sweating face and drifted off into the dark, hoping he’d be the first person she saw when her head cleared of the pain and she could withstand being alive again. 

[rinas-ninjas]

Oh my goodness, what if Zane still blew up to stop the Golden OverKai? Now the ninja lost two at once.

Oh that would be horrible wouldn’t it?

...oops.

If Zane ever had doubted his ability to feel in the past year, that doubt was gone now.

He had to be able to feel, because there was no other explanation for the unbridled ache in his chest at the sight in front of him.

Ninjago city was burning.

The flames and dying lights of the city were stark against the night sky. Around him, muffled screams echoed in his ears, along with hurried commands shouted by his team.

The screams suddenly surged, and Zane felt a chill settle in his heart. He watched the figure stagger up over the hill ahead of them, the silhouette black against the burning city.

“Kai,” He whispered.

And if his heart ached before, it was agony now. The least the Overlord could have done was take care of what he’d stolen.

That same tousled hair he loved to run his fingers through now hung in limp strands over a face twisted in a snarling grin. Lovely warm brown skin was paled and blued to a shadow of what it should be. His gi hung off of him in tatters; bruising was evident where bare skin strained under restrictive golden armor.

Fire dripped from his mouth as his chest heaved in a desperate bid for air.

Kai Smith, the master of fire, stood unsteadily ahead of his team, framed by the destruction he’d wrought.

“Come face me, ninja!” He hissed. The sound grated on Zane’s ears and throttled him to his core.

It was chilling. It rattled and rasped with each syllable.

It was wrong.

He cast a look over his shoulder. Behind him, Nya held up Lloyd, his leg tightly wrapped in a haphazard splint. She herself was favoring her ankle; Wu was steadily wrapping Jay’s arm in gauze. Cole was on the ground, the earth ninja barely lucid as Garmadon cleaned a nasty looking hit on his head.

A stone sank in his gut as he looked over them.

They would never survive this.

Kai’s warped laugh echoed out over the carnage, and something clicked in his brain.

He caught Nya’s eye. She gave him a questioning look; he must have worn his regret on his face. “I am sorry,” He murmured.

Her eyes opened wide.

“Zane wait!”

He moved faster than he ever had before, systems heaving with the effort. He blocked out the desperate cries fading behind him, blinked away the tears. He slid under precariously propped electrical poles, vaulted over crashed vehicles.

He slid to a stop in front of Kai on an abandoned street.

The asphalt cracked and bubbled with each of the fire elemental’s steps. “You shouldn’t have come here, nindroid,” he sneered.

Zane steeled himself against the wheezing voice. “I had to,” he replied. “Kai needs me here.”

Kai threw his head back in a piercing cackle. “Kai is gone,” he hissed.

The nindroid shook his head. “No,” he smiled gently. “He is not.”

Kai had always been fast; maybe not quite as much as Jay, but still light on his feet. Zane found himself dodging and dancing around flames, faster and sloppier than he ever had.

He dodged a fireball; the heat shimmered as it raced by.

He leapt over rubble as he tossed beam after beam of ice at his feet.

His foot caught on a downed line; he yelled at the jolt, and a sharp clang rang out as his face hit the pavement. He turned over with a stunned groan to sharp yellow eyes and a figure kneeling over him.

“I told you,” Kai grinned, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Zane wrenched his arms free. “And I told you,” he seethed. “I will always be there when he needs me!”

He reached up and grabbed the sneering face above him; his hands settled in a familiar hold.

Frost began to curl from his fingertips.

“What is this – let go!”

Kai thrashed in his grip, but the nindroid held steady. He brought Kai’s face closer.

His heart stuttered at the fresh tear tracks on his face.

“I knew you were still there,” he murmured, eyes shining. The frost had spread to his neck by now.

Kai screeched. “Let go, you impertinent machine!”

Zane moved a hand to the armor, pulling him in. It lit up in protest, casting them in bright white light.

It burned.

“No! No – you can’t!”

Kai’s voice was stronger now; the wheeze was fading. His eyes were softening above Zane’s face, heedless of the light around them.

Zane smiled through the tears. “It is alright, Firefly.”

The light from the armor was blinding.

Zane leaned up to catch one last kiss from his love.

As the burning feeling overtook his body and the light flashed white in his eyes, he felt him kiss back.

And the world went black.