#it's all because Scar broke the tunnel machine

[siriannatan]

I had the weirdest dream and just had to share it.

So. There was Scar with a lightsaber - I never saw any Star Wars for context - and he was doing some monologue along the lines 'i's over Kyolo Ren...' and then there was no Kyolo Ren who I know how he looks from memes.

Instead, there was a Ren Diggity Dog asking for head pats.

So Scar gives him his head pats and then there's Doc in Darth Vader costume - bad one - and he's like 'no one but me can give Ren head pats' and starts shooting not lasers but lightsabers at Scar and then I woke up...

[minecraft-sideblog-tm]

Through various hermit’s videos, so far the timeline of this snowball is:

(in my head half of this was in a Bill Wurtz voice for some reason and that made it significantly funnier, pro-tip)

Mumbo returns and ages his copper Wrong

Grian decides to prank him by aging copper even More Wrong directly on Mumbo’s base

(Mumbo is very confused, also amongus reference)

Grian steals mines copper from Doc’s perimeter walls. Finds the tunnel bore.

(foreshadowing x2)

Innocently asks chat “what doin” while smelting

Scar feels bad no one answered Grian last time Grian asked that. Asks what Grian is up to. Grian admits to procrastinating on his base....again

(Impulse happens to be flying by Grian’s base at that exact moment)

Scar, Gem, and Impulse descend on Grian H. Dreamslayer to have an intervention

Hilarity ensues (for the trio) and dismay ensues (for Grian)

Grian “works on” the back of the base

asks to go to bed because it’s late

(Scar “but what if you die overnight and this is your legacy?”)

They agree to give him 24 hours

“....Have you seen Doc’s tunnel bore?” 

“Grian, FOCUS!”

“FINE! *flies away*”

“.....I kind of want to see the tunnel bore”

Scar is an enabler (they go to see the tunnel bore)

Scar is an enabler 2: electric boogaloo (Scar turns on the tunnel bore; convinces Grian to try it)

--BIG BAD EXPLOSION TIME UH OH--

(panic ensues, the wardens are safe)

(also funny cryptic tweets)

“Heeeeyyy Siri how far is Berlin from Portland??”

Scar hides in a bathroom in-game and irl, just in case

Idea! Try To Fix The Tunnel Bore!

How the f*ck does redstone work! There was definitely a fencepost somewhere in it! And a....coral fan??? shit shit shit sh

Idea! Uhhhhhh...Nevermind!

 diamond pile + cool pokemon cards + “Sorry we broke your cool machien!” cake and run run run ru

They Tried Their Best!

“Heyyyy Doc. Has anyone ever told you how cool you are? And handsome? Your base is soooo awesome, can we have a tour??”

Inconspicuous Tour is Actually Incredibly Conspicuous, more at 11

“He has a murder machine??” asks next most likely victim of the murder machine

End your neighbor’s house tour by admitting to breaking the lawn mower and escaping through a secret hole in the ceiling which you also broke like it’s some kind of sitcom skit

War is declared. Obviously

Doc is more upset about the months of stolen MINED copper than the tunnel bore

Grian’s portal to hell is now ~~Condensed and Sideways~~

Grian also has a timebomb above his base that will blow it up in ~24 hours~ or something, don’t worry about it

(Doc is not involved with this at all but if he was it would probably use charged creepers instead of tnt somehow)

[lycanthrowup]

a compilation of every time sapphique is mentioned

Who can chart the vastness of incarceron?

It’s halls and viaducts, its chasms?

Only the man who has known freedom

Can define his prison.

    -Songs of Sapphique

There was a man and his name was sapphique.

Where he came from is a mystery. Some say he was born of the prison, grown from its stored components. Some say he came from Outside, because he alone of men returned there. Some say he was not a man at all, but a creature from those shining sparks lunatics see in dreams and name the stars. Some say he was a liar and a fool.

    -Legends of Sapphique

Once sapphique came to the end of a tunnel and looked down a vast hall. Its floor was a poisoned pool of venom. Corrosive steams rose from it. Across the darkness stretched a taut wire, and on the far side a doorway was visible, with lights beyond it.

The inmates of the Wing tried to dissuade him. “Many have fallen,” they said. “Their bones rot in the black lake. Why should you be any different?”

He answered, “Because i have dreams and in those dreams i see the stars.” Then he swung himself up onto the wire and began to cross. Many times he rested, or hung in pain. Many times they called on him to return. Finally, after hours, he reached the other side, and they saw him stagger, and vanish through the door.

He was dark, this Sapphique, and slender. His hair was straight and long. His real name is only to be guessed at.

-Wanderings of Sapphique

You are my father, Incarceron.

I was born from your pain.

Bones of steel; circuits for veins.

My heart a vault of iron.

    -Songs of Sapphique

The eyes in the corridor were dark and watchful and there were many of them. “Come out,” he said. 

    They came out. They were children. They wore rags and their skin was livid with sores. Their veins were tubes, their hair wire. Sapphique reached out and touched them, “You are the ones who will save us,” he said.

-Sapphique and the Children

    Walls have ears.

    Doors have eyes.

    Trees have voices.

    Beasts tell lies.

    Beware the rain,

    Beware the snow.

    Beware the man

    You think you know.

-Songs of Sapphique

Sapphique rode out of the Tanglewood and saw the Fortress of Bronze. People were streaming into its walls from all around. “Come inside,” the urged him. “Hurry! Before it attacks!”

He looked around. The world was metal and the sky was metal. The people were ants on the plains of the Prison.

“Have you forgotten,” he said, “that you are already Inside?”

But they hurried past and said he was deranged.

        -Legends of Sapphique

Down the endless halls of guilt

My silver thread of tears is spilt.

My fingerbone the key that broke

My blood the oil that smoothes the lock.

        -Songs of Sapphique

“Where are the leaders?” Sapphique asked.

“In their fortresses,” the swan replied,

“And the poets?”

“Lost in dreams of other worlds.”

And the craftsmen?”

“Forging machines to challenge the darkness.”

“And the wide, who made the world?”

The swan lowered its black neck sadly.

“Dwindled to crones and sorcerers in towers.”

    -Sapphique in the Kingdom of Birds

Do you seek the key to Incarceron?

Look inside yourself. It has always been hidden there.

    -The Mirror of Dreams to Sapphique

Sapphique strapped the wings to his arms and flew, over oceans and plains, over glass cities and mountains of gold. Animals fled; people pointed up. He flew so far, he saw the sky above him and the sky said, “Turn back, my son, for you have climbed too high.”

    Sapphique laughed, as he rarely did. “Not this time. This time I beat on you until you open.”

    But Incarceron was angered and struck him down.

        -Legends of Sapphique

All my years to this moment

All my roads to this wall.

All my words to this silence

All my pride to this fall.

    -Songs of Sapphique

He fell all day and all night. He fell into a pit of darkness. He falls like a stone falls, like a bird with broken wings, like an angel cast down. His landing bruised the world.

    -Legends of Sapphique

He awoke and found them all around him. The old, lame, the diseased, the half-made men. He hid his head and was filled with shame and anger. “I have failed you,” he said. “I have journeyed so far and i have failed.”

“Not so,” they answered. “There is a door we know, a tiny, secret door. None of us dare crawl through, in case we die there. If you promise to come back for us, we will show you.” Sapphique was lithe and slender. He looked at them with his dark eyes. “Take me there,” he whispered.

        -Legends of Sapphique

I have walked a stair of swords,

I have worn a coat of scars.

I have vowed with hollow words,

I have lied my way to the stars.

    -Songs of Sapphique

Sapphique, they say, was not the same after his Fall. His mind was bruised. He plunged into despair, the depths of the Prison. He crawled into the Tunnels of Madness. He sought dark places, and dangerous men.

    -Legends of Sapphique

How could you betray me, Incarceron?

How could you let me fall?

I thought i was your son.

It seems i am your fool.

    -Songs of Sapphique

Once Incarceron became a dragon, and a Prisoner crawled into its lair. They made a wager. They would ask each other riddles, and the one who could not answer would lose. If it was the man, he would give his life. The Prison offered a secret way of Escape. But even as the man agreed, he felt its hidden laughter.

    They played for a year and a day. The lights stayed dark. The dead were not removed. Food was not provided. The Prison ignored the cries of its inmates. Sapphique was the man. He had one riddle left. He said, “What is the Key that unlocks the heart?”

    For a day Incarceron thought. For two days. For three. Then it said, “If i ever knew the answer, i have forgotten it.”

    -Sapphique in the Tunnels of Madness

I could breathe fire on you,” the wirewolf growled. “Do it,” said Sapphique. “Just don’t throw me into the water.”

“I could gnaw your shadow away.”

“That’s nothing, compared with the black water.”

“I could crush your bones and sinews.”

“I fear the terrible water more than you.”

The wirewolf flung him angrily into the lake.

So he swam away, laughing.

    -The Wirewolf Returns

Sapphique leaped up, overjoyed. “If you cannot answer, then I’ve won. Show me a way Out.” Incarceron laughed in its million halls. It raised a claw and the skin of the claw split and the dragonskin Glove curled off and lay on the ground.

Sapphique was alone. He picked the shining thing up and cursed the Prison.

But when he put his hand into Incarceron’s he knew its plans.

He dreamed its dreams.

    -Sapphique in the Tunnels of Madness

So he rose up and sought the hardest way, the road that leads inward. And all the time he wore the Glove he did not eat or sleep and Incarceron knew all his desires.

    -Legend of Sapphique

Hand to hand, skin to skin,

Twin in a mirror, Incarceron.

Fear to fear, desire to desire,

Eye to eye. Prison to prison.

    -Songs of Sapphique

He opened the window and looked out at the night. “The world is an endless loop,” he said. “A Mobius strip, a wheel in which we run. As you have discovered, who have traveled so far just to find yourself where you started from.”

Sapphique went on stroking the blue cat. “So you can’t help me?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

    -Sapphique and the Dark Enchanter

I fooled the Prison

I fooled my father.

I asked a question

It could not answer.

    -Songs of Sapphique

A great Fimbulwinter will close down on the world. Darkness and cold will spread from Wing to Wing. There will come one called the Unsapient, from far away, from Outside.

He will plot and scheme with Incarceron.

They will make the Winged Man.

    -Sapphique’s Prophecy of the World’s End

What makes a prince?

A sunny sky, an open door.

What makes a prisoner?

A question with no answer.

    -Songs of Sapphique

When he was born, silent and alone, his mind was empty. He had no past, no being. He found himself in the deepest place of darkness and loneliness.

“Give me a name,” he begged.

The Prison said, “I lay this fate on you, Prisoner. You shall have no name unless i give it to you. And I will never give it.”

He groaned. He reached out his fingers and found raised letters on the door. Great iron letters, riveted through.

After hours, he had grasped their shape.

“Sapphique,” he said, “will be my name.”

    -Legends of Sapphique

“The fault is yours,” the Enchanter said. How could a Prison know of Escape but through your dreams? It would be best to give up the Glove.”

Sapphique shook his head. “Too late. It has grown into me now. How could i sing my songs without it?”

    -Sapphique and the Dark Enchanter

He worked night and day. He made a coat that would transform him; he would be more than a man; a winged creature, beautiful as light. All the birds brought him feathers. Even the eagle. Even the swan.

    -Legends of Sapphique

People will love you if you tell them of your fears.

    -The Mirror of Dreams to Sapphique

Once he had crossed the sword-bridge he came to a room with a banquet of fine food spread on a table. He sat down and picked up a piece of bread, but the power of the Glove turned it to ashes. He picked up water but the glass shattered. So he traveled on, because he knew now that we was close to the door.

    -Wanderings of Sapphique

As the Beast i took your finger.

As the Dragon i give you my hand.

Now you have crawled and clambered into my heart.

I can’t see you anymore.

Are you still here?

    -Mirror of Dreams to Sapphique

The dove will rise above destruction

With a white rose in her beak

Over storm

Over tempest.

Over time and the ages.

And the petals will fall to the ground like snow.

    -Sapphique’s Prophecy of the World’s End

He raised his hands. They saw his coat was feathered like the wings of the Swan when it dies, when it sings its secret song. And he opened the door that none of them had seen until now.

    -Legends of Sapphique

He sang his last song. And the words of that have never been written down. But it was sweet and of a great beauty, and those that heard it were changed utterly.

Some say it was the song that moves stars. 

    -Sapphique’s Last Song

[maryqueenofmurder]

Bdoublo100 x Keralis

“-I think it would be a pretty good story if Bdubs fell somewhere else with water, and Keralis hadn’t been released from area 77.  Bdubs finds out that Keralis has been captured in some wacky way, and launches a one man mission to rescue him/joins th hippies.  Possibly both.”  -me

Speak and ye shall receive.

------------------------------------------------------------

Bdoubleo100 fell.  Again.

But this time, he didn’t just hit the ground and go splat.  Instead, he landed in water.  Bubbles explodes around him as he sunk deeper.  The salty water stung his eyes, which he opened out of surprise.  Bdubs clamped his mouth shut, and swam desperately for the surface.

He popped up, taking huge, gasping breaths.  That was not an experience he was interested in repeating.  Which meant he’d have to find land.  Luckily,  he’d landed in a rather deep river.  Full of... bamboo?  Bdubs quit treading water, and splashed over to the other end of the river.  He climbed up the bank, with limbs that felt like lead, they were so heavy.

Bdubs paused at the top.  He stood in awe in front of the shopping district.  Of course, he didn’t know what it was.  Simply that it was full of amazing buildings.  Was that the Statue of Liberty?

Bdubs must have stood there, soaking wet and dripping on the ground, for a couple of minutes.  He didn’t get too cold though, the sun shone down.  It made him feel sleepy.  It was getting colder, though.  He was really tired after the whole falling and dying over and over thing.  His eyes started to flutter shut, and he swayed slightly.

Then Bdubs eyes snapped open.  He had heard the sound of rockets.  He whipped around to see whoever was flying -some guy in a red sweater- make a hard turn in his direction.  Bdubs closed his eyes and braced for impact, hoping it wouldn’t kill him or injure him too badly.  Red sweater man stopped just a few feet from were he was standing.  He could hear that much.

“Who are you?!”  Bdubs opened his eyes.  Red sweater man seemed pretty upset, and was practically seething.

“I’m Bdoubleo100!  But you can call me Bdubs.”  Bdubs told him, wondering why he was so mad.

“Well, why are you here?  Are you a new hermit?  Why didn’t anyone tell me this was happening?”  Red sweater man seemed calmer.  But more irritated.

“I don’t think they knew I was coming.  I didn’t.”  Bdubs answered truthfully.

“Ugh.  This is just like Keralis.  Why are random people showing up?  Probably aliens.  I can give you the rundown.”  Red sweater man continued to talk about how the hermits were family and stuff, but Bdubs basically tuned him out after Keralis.  He might’ve mentioned aliens as well.

Bdubs had a crush on Keralis, but they got separated before he could confess.  He thought he’d been over it, but clearly not.  Besides, Keralis was a good friend of his, he’d like to see him.  Maybe they could do something together.

“Did you say Keralis?”  Bdubs interrupted the guy.

“Uh, yeah, do you know him?”  Red sweater guy tilted his head.

“We’re pretty good friends.  Can you take me to him?”  Red sweater guy seemed to deflate when he said it.

“No.  He’s stuck in Area 77.  We overheard Doc talking about it.  That’s why I’m so upset.  You can’t just kidnap people, Doc!  We keep telling everybody what’s up, but nobody will listen.  They think we’re overreacting!”  Red sweater man seemed to be getting worked up.

“Area 77?!  Doc kidnapped Keralis?!  Aliens?!”  Bdubs said frantically.

“Area 77 is what basically amounts to a government facility.  They keep anything out of the ordinary in there.  Apparently Keralis came out of a portal, and they made him build something to prove he was the real Keralis.”  Red sweater man informed him.

“So, he’s NOT the real Keralis then?”  Now Bdubs was confused.

“Oh no, he was, but they decided to keep him anyway.  Probably because he was still an anomaly.  Maybe the aliens told them to do it.”  Red sweater man said.

“Aliens.”  Now Bdubs wasn’t even sure the guy wasn’t messing with him.

“Apparently, yeah.  Ren overheard them talking about it.”  Now red sweater man was mentioning more people.

“And no-one is doing ANYTHING about this.”  Bdubs was concerned.

“Nah.  They stole my time machine and kidnapped villager Grian as well, so I don’t know why nobody cares!  It’s just us hippies trying to save them.”  So red sweater guy had some investment in this whole thing as well.

“So the hippies are people who are against Area 77.  Like a protest?”  Bdubs inquired.  “Who are the hippies?”

“At the moment it’s just me, Ren, and Impulse.  We do more than protest against Area 77, but you’d need to join us to find out.”  Red sweater man winked.

“I might take you up on that offer.”  Bdubs winked back, and turned around.  He... had absolutely no idea where to go.  He turned to face the guy again.

“Where do I go now?”  Bdubs asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed.  “I can’t just let you go.”  Bdubs’s heartbeat picked up.

“What?”  He asked nervously.

“If the Area 77 guys Doc and Scar find you they’ll lock you up too.”  Red sweater man answered confidently.  Bdubs hadn’t thought of that.  He’d need to hide.

“So.  Why don’t you come with me, and I can make you a hippie?  There’s plenty of room nearby, and you can work with us underground.”  Red sweater man said charismatically.

“I don’t know...”  Bdubs answered.  He barely knew who the hippies were.

“You can help us rescue Keralis.”  There was a gleam in his eyes.  Most would call it mischevious, but it wasn’t.  It was determination.

“Okay.”  Bdubs took him up on his offer immediately.  If he was going to get Keralis, he’d need some help.

---------------------------Line Break Brought to You By Bubbles------------------------

“Ren, Impulse, this is Bdoubleo100.”  Grian pointed at each while he introduced Bdubs.  He’d called an emergency hippie meeting.

“And you brought him here why?  What we’re doing is top secret.  Then again, you hired me after a five minute interview.  But the stakes have been raised.”  Impulse seemed wary.

“Don’t be so hard on Grian, Impulse.  I’m more concerned as to why we weren’t informed there was a new hermit, and if we can trust him.”  Ren said cheerily.  Impulse nodded, though his gaze didn’t change from where it fell on Bdubs.  But Bdubs was too distracted to notice.

“Grian?”  He turned to look at red sw- Grian.  He never did tell me his name, did he?  Ren turned to Grian, and raised an eyebrow.  Grian looked rather sheepish.

“I may have forgotten to introduce myself.  And he’s like Keralis, so Xisuma didn’t know he was getting on.  I brought him here because we need to hide him so Doc and Scar can’t imprison him.  Also, he knew Keralis, so he wants to be a hippie and help us break into Area 77.”  Grian started off bashfully, but ended the same determined tone that had graced him earlier.

“So where do we hide him then?  The hole?  It can’t be ANYWHERE Doc or Scar could find him, so we can’t have him build an R.V..”  Impulse’s question was directed to Grian.  Then he spun over to Bdubs and started interrogating him.

“If you’re fine with an underground base you can dig a hole connected to ours, and you can stripmine down there.  We can get you most of what else you need.  With proper lighting you could start a tree farm, and pretty much any other kind of farm.”  Impulse had been getting more excited with everything he said, and frankly Bdubs was eager to hear what else he would say.

“We’ll show you around the place.  We usually meet up every night that there’s more than one of us here together to bond around the campfire.  Doc’d be suspicious if we stopped right away, so we can meet you down in the hole two times a week to start.  The second visit will be our weekly hippie meeting, where we talk about our progress on the whole Area 77 raid.”  Impulse finished his ramble.  Ren, Grian, and Bdubs all nodded in agreement.

“So will you show me this hole you keep talking about?”  Bdubs questioned.

A childish smile grew on Grian’s face.  They walked from where they were standing by the campfire to Ren’s R.V..  They all filed in, with Bdubs last.  Grian stood on top of the toilet.  Bdubs shot him a questioning glance.

Grian, gleefully, shouted, “Flush me, boys!” his smile growing ever wider.

Ren hit the button on the side of the toilet, and the toilet... disappeared.  No, that wasn’t right, it got pulled into the wall of the R.V..  Grian fell down a tunnel underneath the toilet.  The toilet then returned to its proper place.

Bdubs snorted.  Impulse gestured towards the toilet.  “Your turn.  May I have the honor of flushing you, Bdoubleo100?”  Impulse asked grandly.  Bdubs nodded in return.  Impulse hit the button, and Bdubs fell down, landing in water.

Deja Vu.  Bdubs had fallen into water earlier, and now his clothes were wet again.  He stepped into a giant hole.  The floor, walls, and ceiling was all dirt.  The ground was covered in grass, though.

“Wow.”  He stood there for a moment, stunned.

“Alright, follow me.”  Grian announced making the come-here gesture.  Ren and Impulse walked up behind Bdubs, Ren having been flushed by Impulse who then flushed himself afterwards.

“Here is the tunnel.  I’m digging it under Area 77, and when it’s far enough, we’ll break in.”  Grian broke some dirt, revealing a long, long tunnel.

“You can dig your hole over there.”  Grian patched up the hidden entrance, and gestures at the far side of the hole.

“We’ll fetch you stuff to start you off, like saplings.  If you need anything from the surface world, we go on trips at the end of every week to get supplies.  It happens after each hippie meeting.”  Grian handed him some wood, a bed, and a book to write necessary supplies on.  Bdubs thanked him, and started to brainstorm as to what to do.

---------------------------Line Break Brought to You By Area 77------------------------

The days passed quickly since then.

Bdubs mined and started farms and built.  He’d gotten diamond armor and tools.  But what he did most of all was dig.  The tunnel to Area 77 was lengthening fast.  It was already under the main hangar.  The next step would take a couple of days, but would be worth it.

The hippies would excavate several other tunnels, branching out from the main one.  This would allow for easy access to several different areas.  They would split up, Ren, Impulse, and Grian going to hangar 4.  Or wherever Grian’s time machine was.  They’d rescue villager Grian, and steal the time machine back.

Bdubs would head to Keralis’s cell.  He’d free him without setting off the alarm.  In case someone noticed Keralis dying over and over, he’d wait until Grian and the others had left in the time machine.

Finally, it was time.

All the countdowns had run out, and the R.V.s had all launched and flew.  The hippies all met up in the hole.  Grian handed Bdubs a player head and a specific set of clothes.  Bdubs changed into them, and they all started down the main tunnel.

Once they reached the end of the main tunnel, they split up.  Grian, Ren, and Impulse went down the tunnel that lead to the front hangar.  That’s where Keralis’s main base was.  Or at least, the place he spent the largest amount of time, and where he slept.

Bdubs counted the blocks as he walked.  He couldn’t get distracted, lest he mess this up.  And if he failed, if he got caught...  There wouldn’t be any second chances.  Not for him.  Bdubs stopped.  He’d reached the right block.

He broke the top block, which was eye level to him.  Then he crouched down and peered up, through the hole where the newly broken block used to be.  The gamble had paid off.  The camera in the hallway was right above his head and was aimed at the far wall for the moment.

This put Bdubs in the camera’s blind spot.  He took a deep, inaudible breath.  Then he slipped the player head over his own.  Doc’s player head, to be exact.  He was also wearing a set of clothes that looked like Doc’s.  Grian had made sure they fit Bdubs perfectly.

Though it wouldn’t hold up to close examination, hopefully no-one would realize he wasn’t Doc until it was too late.  It would also allow him to pass observers.  Impulse had taught him how to mimic Doc’s body language.  Bdubs was passable at it, at best.  Ren had tried to teach him how to talk like Doc, but he just sounded unintelligible and German.

Bdubs walked deeper into the tunnel, and started blocking it off.  That way, if Doc or Scar broke the wall to see were he came from, they’d just see dirt and stone.  Hopefully, that would keep them from digging too deep.

If they found the tunnel, they could suss out that it was the hippies who did it.  It would lead them right to the big hole.  And possibly to Bdubs’s base, as well.  They would find him, and Keralis as well, assuming Bdubs succeeded in rescuing him.  Then again, if he failed to save Keralis, then he probably already got caught.

The camera turned.  Bdubs walked into the hallway.  He patched the wall behind him up seamlessly.  He fiddled with his clothes slightly, then strode into the view of another camera.

Bdubs walked down the hallway with purposeful strides.  Inside, however, he was a nervous wreck.  It didn’t help that he was going to see Keralis again.

Bdubs slowed his steps, which had stared getting frantic.  He tried to calm down  He took even breathes.  Then he arrived at the main hangar.

Bdubs walked over to the ice, the only way to see the inside of Keralis’s cell.  There was a house inside.  It was beautiful, and modern style.  He shook himself out of his stupor, and tapped on the ice.  Keralis was probably sleeping, it was three in the morning after all.  Bdubs rapped his knuckles on the ice.  He knocked louder.

Keralis stumbled out of the house, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  Keralis spotted Bdubs and sighed, clearly not recognizing him.  Bdubs took a piece of paper out of his pocket.  It said:

Hey Keralis,

I’m pretending to be Doc.  When it’s the right time, I’ll give you a bunch of ender pearls.  You’ll pearl into the ice wall and eventually glitch through.  I’ll take you somewhere that Area 77 can’t find us.  Get rid of the paper.

Bdubs put the paper into the dispenser and hit the lever.  The paper dispensed in Keralis’s cell.  Keralis picked it up dazedly, and read it.  He paused.  Then read it over again, and shot Bdubs a glance.  Read the paper again.  Really scrutinized Bdubs.

Bdubs fidgeted nervously and looked away, feeling flustered with the full weight of Keralis’s gaze on him.  Bdubs looked back at Keralis.  Keralis nodded slowly, and put the paper back in the dispenser, and gestured towards it.  Bdubs took the paper out of the dispenser, folded it up, and put it back in his pocket.

---------------------------Line Break Brought to You By Spies------------------------

Bdubs’s communicator crackled slightly.  “We’re about to use the time machine.”  Grian’s voice whispered over the comms.

“In position.”  Bdubs whispered back.

Bdubs waited a couple of seconds.  Then he walked over to the dispenser and inserted several stacks of ender pearls.  Then flicked the lever a couple of times.  Keralis picked them up, and pearled into the ice wall.

A huge amount of failures later, and many deaths, Keralis was out.

Bdubs grabbed Keralis’s upper arm gently, and led him to the hallway.  The camera was still pointing in the same direction.  Bdubs broke the two blocks in the camera’s blindspot, and the dirt behind him.

Bdubs stepped into the hole, pulling Keralis with him.  Bdubs blocked up the hole in Area 77′s wall.  He broke more dirt, filling the hole behind him and Keralis as they walked side by side.  When they got to the end of the dirt blockade and into the tunnel Keralis turned to Bdubs.

“Okay, it’s nice that you broke me out, but who are you?”  Keralis asked distrustfully.  In response Bdubs took off his mask.  Keralis’s eyes darted back and forth, his mouth falling open.  He mouths Bdubs’s name, and then-

oh

Keralis pulled his face away from Bdubs.  Then he shot him a shy smile.  Bdubs grabbed Keralis’s hand, lacing their fingers together.  Together they walked down the tunnel, back to the hole.

Their story isn’t over, far from it in fact.  Doc will discover that the time machine and Keralis are gone in a couple of hours.  Bdubs and Keralis will have to hide, have to learn to avoid detection, become ghost in so many different ways.

But right now, at this moment?  Bdubs and Keralis walk down the tunnel hand in hand, humming contentedly.  And they are happy.

The end.

[mgeekingout]

AREA 77 HCS

(because I'm  sick and I don't have anything better to do apparently.)

Cleo saw HIB talking to False and taking the UFO. She tried to talk about this with False but blonde didn't belive her. "What are you talking about? I never built any UFO. Go back to work."

Joe visited Falsewell and also asked about the UFO. Cleo told him what happened, desperately trying to make him belive her. He did.

HIB wanted to capture the 'alien cows' but they knew that only Stress knows where the cows are. They interrogated her but she was scared that Doc and Scar are gonna hurt the animals. So she kept being silent. HIB took her to the Area 77, still persisting on getting the informations out of Stress.

Stress was so stressed (no pun intended), something in her clicked. She started using ice powers, turning her cell into ice that eventually broke into million pieces. Exhausted, half-conscious, she made her way out of the Area 77. She passed out in the middle of the road. The last thing she saw was a green shape. Iskalls name left her lips. (Overused sappy tropes yay...)

Apparently person that found her wasn't Iskall but Xisuma. Though he heard Stress and decided to bring her over to the Sahara where Mumbo and Iskall had a meeting. He left trembling from cold Stress here and left to get some medicine.

Why Grian was absent at the Architechs' meeting? Let's say he was busy being a hippie. But first we need to go a little back in time.

After Cub infiltrated Area 77 he visited Scar from time to time, teasing him, making little pranks. Once he successfully dragged Scar out of the Area and spent with him whole day just goofing around, playing mini games and all. Scar was hesitant at first but as the day progressed, he was having more fun. Night came, two friends' laughs were heard above the Area. They started talking. Or at least Cub did. Scar listened.

Few days later, at the hippie camp, Grian Impulse and Ren were facing some difficulties. Their maps were outdated, their plan was incomplete. They needed help. And they got it.

Cub met with the hippies and gave them updated maps with marked buildings. No strings attached. "Why are you helping us? Again?". It was hard for Cub. Fighting his friend, his partner in crime. But he saw how quick Scar progressed in making Area 77 as stunning and horrifying as possible. He wanted to talked some sense into him. That didn't work. Cub decided that it was time to step in and stop the government before something bad happens.

Hippies convinced Cub to joined them. To the group also joined Keralis and Bdubs. They dug out the tunnels. They were ready to take what was their.

Through out the infiltration, hippies made few mistakes. Scar, Doc and their trained beasts found them. There was no way to escape.

Scar looked at Cub. Cub looked at Scar. The silence was filled with shock, doubt, betrayal and... sadness. Those sad, sad eyes were there when Scar closed his.

Hippies where put into the cells. Cub tried to reason with Scar. Talk him out of this madness. But Scar wouldn't listen. He was so confused and hurt and angry. He left Cub and Ren alone. 

Ren barks.

Keralis was kept in his old cell. No one even talked to him. He was alone.

Grian was useful for the government. He new how the time machine worked. He was the biggest threat. He needed to be kept safe. Super safe.

Impulse and Bdubs. They actually escaped. They closed the underground tunnels and made their way to the commune. They needed help, ASAP.

[darkredehmption]

Past and Present

#SL #PastAndPresent

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang

Mentions @PanwerePredator

*~*~*

Zsadist: 

As we rushed Hadrian back to the mansion, I couldn’t help but think about the time I rushed him to Havers. That day where I stabbed him and yet he still trusted me after it all. We definitely had a bond, and I knew that he was going to be alright. He had to be. I wouldn’t allow it any other way. 

We quickly got him down the tunnels and in the PT suite where they transferred him to a stretcher. Vishous, and the medical team we had on staff, took over from there. Leaving the rest of us out in the hall. As soon as the door shut we all kinda just let out a sigh. Some Brothers dispersed, while others like Cop, and Phury, hung around. Nodding over to them before my eyes meet Mal’s. He was studying the shifter behind the glass. Reaching out to land my hand on his shoulder, not caring if the others watched me do it.

“Thank you...It means a lot that you were there, that you helped him.” 

My hand gave his arm a squeeze, eyes never leaving his own. I wanted to just take him into my arms, lay him on my bed, and kiss every inch of his body. This male...was a male of worth and he was mine.

Slowly I drag my hand forward, letting it rest at his throat, my thumb brushing over his soft skin. I didn’t take my eyes off of him. I wanted him to see the emotion behind them, even if I was so bad at expressing how I felt. He knew. He had to know. Parting my lips to say something, only to be cut off by the sound of his cellphone. Fuck. What now? 

Mal:

The sterility of the room was something I was familiar with, after having spent a few days in there myself. Watching the team go to work on the shifter, try to assess him and his unconscious state, reminded me of how I’d ended up here. That stroke of luck, good or bad, that saw me help these males protect the Chosen. Saw me land in front of Zsadist and shield him from a bullet.

As if sensing my thoughts of him, my male reached out and squeezed my arm. For all that I’d been reluctant to trust in a were-animal, I still couldn’t let him die if it meant hurting Zsadist. For whatever reason, he’d forged some sort of friendship with Hadrian, and I wasn’t the type to deny him a person that made him happy. 

So with an effort, I wrenched my gaze from the med team hooking him up to heart monitors, to my mate. His gratitude was a warm, tender thing, and I drew it into me, reassuring myself I’d made the right call. Hanging on to Hadrian’s soul had been… exhausting. Fighting the pull of death itself? I’d never tried anything like it with my divinity. But it was worth it for him. For this.

I leant into his touch, stared into the golden pools of his eyes, and felt that knee knocking rush of emotion. This male, the one who would fight tooth and nail for his friends, for his family, wanted me. A rough half breed hunter with a few fake credit cards to his name. His lips parted, but the sound that broke the silence was not his voice.

An exhausted sigh slipped past my lips as I slid a hand into my pocket and extracted the device, my brows arching upward at the caller ID. Shit. I swiped to open it without saying anything to the male.

“Ethan?”

‘Mal, man, you said you were near Caldwell yeah?’

“Yeah, why?”

‘Well, m’ gonna call in that IOU. Need you. A town about an hour away. I can text you the deets.’

My head spun as I turned away from Zsadist, taking a few steps from him and the other Brothers lingering in the hall. Even as the night’s events dragged at me, I felt a fresh burst of adrenaline that only came from a hunt. 

“Car or fly?”

‘Fly. Need you here fast. We’re running out of time. You good?’

I looked up and turned back to face Zsadist. I could see it in his face, his eyes. I was leaving, and any other time, any other night, he’d have come with me. No questions asked. But Hadrian was here, and the shifter needed him. 

“I’m good. I’ll see you soon.”

Neither of us said anything else as the line went dead. I lowered the device, feeling the weight of the silence that followed until my phone beeped again with the text - the location.

“…that was Ethan,” I managed, gesturing toward the med suite. “The one who helped us with… with Hadrian. He needs me. I have to go.”

Zsadist:

Soon he was taking the call, walking away from me in the hallway as he talked to one of his hunter friends probably. I tried not to eavesdrop on the phone call, but I couldn’t help but keep my eyes on him. Watching the way his brow lifted with a curious stare, lips parting to reply back, back slouching forward slightly from exhaustion, most likely. Finally his eyes meet mine, trying not to look like a lost puppy as I gazed back. Then he was bidding whoever on the other end Goodbye.

It was Ethan. He needed my male for something. Something that...was not lesser related. That even if I were to go, I bet I wouldn’t be of much help. Slowly my head turns to gaze into the PT suite, watching Hadrian as I murmur. “Go.” I didn’t want to ask if he was flying or driving. Figured I’d leave that up to my imagination. 

“Lucky you don’t have to worry about daylight.” Butch chimes in.

My eyes shifting back towards my male. Oh yes. I almost had forgotten, but how could I? Mal craved the sun, needed it, and maybe after his trip he could get some. Recharge his energy after helping the shifter. But he could also get hurt, and then who would come to help him when the sun was up? Fritz? Shaking the thought from my head as I turn to gaze at Butch and Phury. I give them a look, watching as they disperse. Cop heads straight towards the Pit, while Phury made his way down the hall in the opposite direction, back towards the manse. Leaving just me and the angel. 

“You better be safe.” Trying to hide the roughness in my tone, but I couldn’t help it, feelings were forming. Feelings that I’ve never felt before. All of this was new to me and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Taking in a deep breath as I make my way towards the male, pausing when I was just inches away. Tell him. Tell him how you feel. Come on Z. You watch all your Brothers express their...feelings...towards their mates. Do the same. Swallowing the lump in my throat before parting my scarred lips. 

“I’ll...be a mess if you don’t come back safe and sound. And I think...you know why…” My hand lifts, pausing for a moment before making contact with the angel’s cheek. Dragging my calloused thumb over his soft skin. “Be careful. Please. I really can’t lose you.” Leaning in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Taking the time to explore his mouth with my tongue before pulling back, gasping for air. 

Shifting my head to graze my lips over his ear, whispering against it. “I can’t live without you, and I don’t ever want to.” I went off in the old language. Just sweet words that I didn’t know how to express in english, ending it all with one word that I hoped he knew. “Nallum.” I breathed as I pulled away. Turning to lean against the wall, peering into the PT suite at Hadrian once again. My chest felt heavy from everything I just spoke to the male who meant everything to me.

Mal:

The Brothers took the hint and made themselves scarce, leaving just Zsadist and myself in the hall. Through that door I could hear the machines beeping, the life support or whatever it was being hooked up to make sure the shifter didn’t die on their watch. Like Z wouldn’t march his ass straight into the afterlife and drag him back.

I could see that look in his eyes now as he watched me; a silent plea that I wasn’t to go anywhere he couldn’t follow. As he lifted a hand to my cheek, his thumb stroking over my skin, I fought the automatic rush of longing, the need to kiss him and hold him and erase the sadness from his eyes. 

The kiss seared into my bones, my body melting to his, a perfect fit, as my tongue brushed against his, as I devoured the taste of him. And too soon it was over, the loss an ache when coupled with the knowledge I was leaving. The whispered string of words in a language I didn’t know still sounded sweet, like a caress all on its own.

Nallum. 

Beloved.

“I’m coming back,” I managed, my voice husky. “I’ll always come back to you, Nallum.”

There was so much left unsaid. Words I felt. Words I meant. 

But saying them now felt like a goodbye, and I didn’t want them to be a goodbye. I wanted them to be forever. 

So I didn’t say them. 

Instead I summoned my wings, the weight a reassurance. Reaching to the sensitive inner curve near my back, I plucked a single, small feather. Lush and glossy and soft and dark. Stepping close to my male, I slipped it into his hand as I ghosted my lips over his, a silent promise I’d be back soon. That a part of me was always here. I let myself look into the simmering gold of his eyes, holding that look in my mind, before I stepped past and kept going.

I needed to get to my car, grab a bag of supplies, and take off.

I needed to focus. 

Because the sooner I dealt with Ethan’s problem, the sooner I could come back.

Come home.

[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 12

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

← Previous (First)

Dumbledore and the other adult wizards -- along with much of the staff, who, of course, had noticed the commotion -- drove the dementors back to their posts. Ron, Hermione, and Sirius were ordered to go to the Hospital Wing to recover. Then, with everyone else distracted by their own tasks, Danny followed Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic up to Dumbledore’s office.

Danny couldn’t remember what the Headmaster had said to convince him to come. But as long as the old wizard didn’t attack him again, Danny didn’t care. ‘Harry…’

The door closed behind them with a soft thud. The Minister was pacing. “Dumbledore, what do we do? What do we DO?! When the Prophet hears about this-” “Please, Minister. We must remain calm.” “Yes, yes. You’re right. But the Boy-!” For the first time since heading toward the school, the Minister looked at Danny. He was a frightening sight -- Danny didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that: slitted pupils, claws that were dripping with whatever replaced blood in a dementor, glowing, and holding a human soul… The Minister didn’t dare meet his eyes.

But Dumbledore did. Standing in the middle of the strange room he called an office, his voice was impossibly calm. “Mr. Phantasm.” Danny broke out of his daze, but his voice was… listless. ‘Harry…’ “... Yes?” “This might be far-fetched, but -- well. Seeing as I have no way of…” His gaze moved to Harry’s soul. “Storing? A human soul -- I thought it best… to ask if you have any ideas on the matter?”

Hope returned to Danny’s eyes -- “The bottles…!” -- and he took off like a bullet through the walls and floors.

He couldn’t waste time.

Making it to his Pipe-Room, he held Harry against his body so he could grab an empty test-tube-like bottle. ‘But how do I…?’ He had never had to put anything into one of these containers before -- and although souls were naturally malleable, if Harry slipped out of his grasp… Danny didn’t know what would happen to him! Would he die? Disappear? … Become a ghost?

He didn’t even know if he could get Harry back into his own body, let alone-! ‘Calm down! … It doesn’t matter. There’s no other choice!’ Praying, Danny maneuvered the bottle to below his other hand -- and pushed down. Gently… Carefully… 

At first, he thought it wouldn’t work, but slowly, Harry’s soul morphed, extended, and finally slipped into the container. Danny capped it -- And collapsed. Just for a moment… 

… ‘No… Not yet.’ Mind clear of emotions -- just for the moment -- he flew back up to the office.

Everything was a blur after that: Lots of terms, names, and legal jargon tossed around; planning for how to keep panic to a minimum; what should be done with Harry’s soul, with Danny, with Black, with “The media, Dumbledore…!”

Finally, the Minister was somewhere between satisfied -- and panicking over how behind on his schedule he was, and he left. Dumbledore sighed, sat down at his desk, and there were a few moments of blessed silence.

Danny was staring at the glowing bottle in his hand. “... I fear I must apologize.”

Danny looked up. The Headmaster had always looked old, but Danny’d never seen him… frail.

“I assumed you were dangerous because of your species. Given my experiences with such things, I really ought to--” “Don’t apologize.” Dumbledore smiled. “You really are a caring--” “-- I’m an outlier. What you did -- the way you treated me… You did the right thing. If I had been any other phantasm…” His voice failed him.

‘No. Not yet.’ He focused on a table in the corner. It had some weird, silvery machine on it.

Dumbledore frowned, but didn’t comment.

“The soul,” he said instead. “It will need to be protected. I believe it would be safest if it was left with me.” Danny looked back at the elder wizard. He tried -- desperately tried -- to come up with some form of protest. But… No. He was right. The man had done nothing but protect his students the entire time Danny had known him. Meanwhile, how many times had he failed his friends?

Once was enough.

Danny handed Harry’s soul over.

Dumbledore started asking many questions after that -- about him personally and phantasms in general. Danny just told him to “Ask Lupin” and phased out of the office. He was so tired. Just… Just TIRED.

But when he got back to his Pipe-Room -- and saw the still-open bag of substitute-souls…

Danny’s eyes glowed a menacing, poisonous green. “C l o c k w o r k . . .  ”

Snatching up the bag, Danny flew through the network of tunnels -- until he got to the Chamber of Secrets.

“CLOCKWORK!!!” His energy-infused voice echoed deafeningly, “I KNOW YOU’RE LISTENING! So ANSWER me!” He threw the bag at the wall.

Several of the bottles shattered, glowing-green liquid dripping down the wall like blood.

Tears were streaking down Danny’s face now, “Why?! WHY DID YOU SEND ME HERE!?!?” He punched a hole in one of the already-scarred-and-burned pillars. “You could’ve done this yourself! And NOTHING bad would’ve happened to ANYBODY! So WHY?! For ‘experience’?!!!” This time, the pillar shattered.

“. . .” Danny floated down to the ground -- and sat with his back resting against the pillar’s remains. “... Why would you send a damn predator… “-- a spirit-eater -- “… to save people…?”

“...”

“... Heh. Why did I think you’d answer me…? … You never do…”

He was… Just so tired. His eyes started drifting shut. But… ‘?’ ‘Why is there a nest--? Oh.’ Buckbeak. In all of the confusion, he’d almost forgotten the hippogriff.

It was a remarkably quick, uneventful trip.

He’d find out much of what happened later from Ron and Hermione. The rest of the student body -- of the entire magic society -- was under the impression that Harry Potter had been the victim of a “close-call” and would be taking a few months off with his newly-declared-innocent godfather to recover. While there was a manhunt going on for Peter Pettigrew, the true criminal.

Just about everyone else was happy: exams were over, there was another Hogsmeade Weekend coming up, and the dementors were being sent back to Azkaban where they belonged! And if Hermione and Ron were dispirited -- well, of course they were. Their friend had gotten hurt!

Buckbeak was assumed (in the official story, anyway) to have flown off on his own. (Lupin and Hagrid worked together to find a way to set the creature free in his natural habitat.) Malfoy was furious that the phantasm had “probably eaten” the hippogriff -- that he and his father had been “outwitted by a creature!”

If there was anything that was bringing the other students down, it was that Lupin was resigning as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape, the Potions teacher, evidently disliked Lupin and had revealed his status as a werewolf. Apparently, students’ parents were not comfortable with that.

But if they were unnerved by a werewolf teacher, they were at least equally unhappy about the presence of a phantasm inside the school. Danny couldn’t stay there. But Dumbledore didn’t want him far away, as Danny was the only one they knew of who could even potentially return Harry’s soul to his body. Sirius, saying he owed him, agreed to take Danny in. And as Harry’s newly closest relative, Sirius was given Harry’s belongings.

But before he could leave the school, Danny needed, desperately needed, to complete at least one part of his mission successfully. And now that the school-year was over, he could do it.

Without hurting his friend!

McGonagall briefly greeted the Ministry official outside the school entrance. Then simply handed them an envelope, and they went their separate ways. Invisible, Danny flew down to them. Thankfully, they had put the envelope in their pocket, and weren’t still holding it -- where they would’ve felt the loss of weight. Reaching intangibly inside their robe, Danny snatched one of the items.

That he was sent here to steal. By order of the Observants. A mission “FAR more important than some silly horcruxes!”

One time-turner down. An entire cabinet-full to go.

Ghost Zone - Observants’ Council - One week before Danny’s mission began

The room was large, and every seat was filled by a member of the Council. Most were Observants. Their appearance -- just a giant, green eyeball for a head -- continued to weird Danny out.

Odin, the Guarder of Knowledge -- and Clockwork’s brother -- shuffled the papers on his podium. “I believe that covers just about everything. Only one item remains. Clockwork?”

Standing, Clockwork spoke, “Yes, Brother?” “We have a mission for you and your…” He gave a hesitant glance at Danny, “apprentice.”

Looking up, Danny thought Clockwork might be glaring slightly -- but it quickly disappeared. He bowed, “Of course. It is my duty and pleasure to serve the Council.”

“You are aware of the anomalies that have occurred because of the Magic Society you have an… agreement with?” There was outbreak of nervous and angry murmurs from the Observants. Clockwork remained stoic, “Yes, I am.”

Odin was openly glaring now. “They have broken their contract. You are to inform them of as much and to retrieve the time manipulating devices you supplied them with.”

Clockwork nodded. Danny could’ve sworn he was smirking. “Of course. We’ll get right on that.”

~~~~~

If you liked this story, please REBLOG!

That does it for Arc 1. Tell me what you think!

Arc 2 should be coming out some time in the Spring or Summer of 2020, but fanart might make me write faster. ;) If you just can’t wait that long for more, you can always send me a request for my One-Shot Wednesdays! I won’t give you big spoilers, but you can get some extra scenes that way, lol. (Look here for info on how requests work and check out my collection of one-shots here)

Finally, I have a few announcements:

First, I just started selling original content! I have three Original OSWs for sale (you can still read them for free, but you can now get an ebook copy for yourself) as well as a Poem Book.

Second, the poll to vote for the next OSWs is up! You can vote here until August 7th, or (if you find this fic too late to do so) you can find the current poll on my Tumblr, Twitter, or Website.

Finally, I’ll be on vacation for the next couple of weeks. Getting all these chapters out AND working on setting up everything for my original content has… REALLY worn me out. I’m glad you all have enjoyed this fic so far, and I hope I can continue making stuff you like for a long time! ^^

Happy Reading! <3

Other places you can find this fic: Fanfiction.net/~ciestess ArchiveOfOurOwn.org/users/Ciestess/profile Deviantart.com/Ciestess

← Previous (First)

[p-artsypants]

Arcadia or Bust (4)

Thank you all for such wonderful, kind, and lengthy reviews. They all inspire me to do my best!

This chapter is a little short, but it’s because the next chapter is going to be a lot longer. Hope you guys can be patient!

FF.net | AO3

—

“And four years later, we’re finally back.” Jim announced, coming into the cave.

“Ah, Master Jim. It’s was only over the day. Were you successful?”

He and Claire held up their grocery bags. “Well, I think the truck outside the sewer tunnel in the woods should be a good answer.”

“Ah! Splendid!”

The assembled trolls sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be carrying the stone back on their own.

Jim started to unpack the items that others had requested from the surface. Some store bought, and others picked from the garbage.

He handed Blinky a can of whipped cream. “Did you guys figure out who’s coming with us in the truck and who’s walking?”

“I will be coming, as well as Merlin and NotEnrique. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I want to see to that the Heartstone is properly cared for. And I would like to be able to make sure the stone is placed as soon as possible.”

“That’s fair,” Answered Claire.

“Why NotEnrique and Merlin?”

“Merlin is still a human,” said Merlin, coming into view. “And Merlin wants food and a soft bed.”

NotEnrique joined the group. “I’m coming because I don’t take up space, but I walk really slow.” Then he glared at Jim, “and someone’s gotta play chaperone on this love boat.”

Nomura, who was in her human form, approached the group. “I will stay behind. I can go to the surface in this form and get any supplies we may need.”

Jim looked at her, perplexed. “I thought you couldn’t shape shift into a human if your familiar was out of the dark lands.”

Nomura smiled. “You misunderstand. Our familiar just has to remain safe and unharmed. My familiar is currently being cared for by your mother, and as so, she should remain safe enough for me to keep up appearances.”

“Wow, you guys really have this all planned out.” Jim noted.

“Trolls don’t sleep,” Merlin said, matter-of-factly. Rifling through the groceries. “So while you were napping peacefully in your hotel room, we were talking for hours.”

Claire was beginning to suspect that Merlin was easily jealous.

“Well, the truck should be able to fit all of us. It has a back seat.” Jim pondered a moment. “With gloves and a hoodie, I should be able to drive all day and night.”

“Are you okay with that?” Asked Claire. “I’m not that good at driving, but I could take over when you need me to.”

“It’s alright,” he assured. “We’ll take breaks for food and stuff.”

“So I suppose the only thing left to take care of is putting the Heartstone on the truck,” Pondered Blinky.

“And that’s going to take all the help we can get.” Jim turned to the Trolls in the cavern, “alright, I need help from the strongest trolls to move the new Heartstone!”

“Carefully!!!”

—

Once the Stone was loaded on the truck bed, with only a few bumps, the group discovered a new problem.

“Who on Earth do you expect to fit back there?!” Blinky asked, looking at the club seating.

The seat was a bit smaller than Jim had initially thought.

“Well, you were the one that wanted to come along.” Jim shrugged. “Look, we put a UV protector on the windows in the back, but in some states, it’s illegal to have them in the front.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that no sunlight should come in the backseat.”

“I have an idea,” said Claire. “During the night, Blinky can sit up front, then during the day, I’ll sit up there.”

“And what about me?” Merlin asked, crossing his arms.

Claire huffed. “Fine, we’ll just all take turns.”

“In that case,” said Blinky, “I would like a turn at driving.”

“Absolutely not.” Everyone else said in unison.

So Blinky rode shotgun first, being that it was still nighttime. While Claire and Merlin sat in the backseat. NotEnrique curled up on Claire’s lap, to nap. Jim plugged his phone in to charge, and turned on his GPS.

Then they were off.

For a while, they travelled in silence, just listening to the hum of the engine, as Jim navigated his way to the highway. From there, it was silent in the car as Siri gave lane switches and proper exits to take. It was a wild ride of weaving concrete and Jim was doing everything possible to avoid any kind of collision.

“Fascinating, do all carriages go this fast?” Merlin asked.

Claire answered. “Mostly, they can go faster, but there’s a legal limit.”

“Limit! We want to get back to Arcadia, don’t we? I say we punch it!”

Jim frowned, his eyes glued ahead. “But that could potentially get us in trouble with the police, and I’d like to avoid them as much as we can in this trip, hmm?”

“Police? Oh, your law enforcers. Do their carriages also move quickly?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

The first tollbooth was passed, and everyone fished around for enough coins to feed the machine. Getting more coins would be a necessity down the road.

At around 3 am, the road was wide open and straight. The only light came from the headlights, buildings dotting the distance, and the soft glow of the heartstone in the truck bed.

“For 252 miles, Use the left 2 lanes to stay on I-76 West toward Harrisburg.”

Jim groaned.

“252 miles? Why, that’s not that far.” Merlin placed his feet on the seat, against Claire’s legs and reclined.

Claire shoved him away, jostling NotEnrique in the meantime, and glanced at the map. “Yeah, but that’s just until our next turn. Our total trip is going to be 2,771 miles, according to the map.”

“Oh.” Merlin noted, with an unhappy tone.

“We have driven quite far already. I venture this was more that a few days travel on foot.”

Jim nodded. “And after all that, I’m glad we’re sitting and driving back. I’m exhausted.”

“You never really got to rest after the final fight,” Blinky observed. “How is your wound?”

“Mostly the same.” Jim admitted. “It looks okay, but it still stings.”

Back when they were at the hotel, Jim had come out of the shower in only his sweatpants. Claire had seen the mark on his chest, a shallow crater with cracks coming off of it like lightning. It looked like a scar, but she knew it had to still be bothering him. Even then, she was exhausted, and the moment wasn’t right, so she hadn’t mentioned it.

“Do Trolls scar?” She asked, as the conversation lulled.

Blinky seemed to think. “Suppose you hit a stone and it leaves a mark. Does that ever heal?”

“Um, not that I’ve ever seen.”

“Trolls are living stone. That is why our tattoos, as you call them, are created with a chisel, and not a needle and ink. But, as I have said before countless times, this may not be the case with Master Jim. If he is wounded, who’s to say it will or will not scar? Only time will tell.”

Claire took this answer with a shrug.

They had been driving for hours now. Conversation popped up here and there. But Blinky wanted Jim to concentrate on driving, and Merlin had a tendency to kill a conversation prematurely.

If only the radio worked.

Claire pondered this as Merlin drawled on and on about a battle waged in 1500 that he played a role in. The others in the car doubted his honesty, but stayed quiet, with nothing better to do.

“Incudo.” Claire whispered under her breath.

Suddenly, the sound system came to life, the speakers blasting electric guitar.

Merlin stopped talking as everyone stared at the radio.

“Peculiar,” Blinky said simply.

Jim smiled, “Hey! I know this song!” He started bobbing his to the tune, an 80’s rock anthem. Then he started singing, with gusto.

“Can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feel,

My heart's in overdrive and you're behind the steering wheel.”

Jim sat up in his seat, trying to match the falsetto of the singer. “Touching yooooOOOOoooooOOOOOu, touching meeeeEEEEEEeeeeee!

Touching you, God you're touching meeeeEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

Jim wasn’t really ever the musical type. It wasn’t that his singing was bad...it just wasn’t great.

But here, stuck in a truck with his beloved, his dad, and an asshole for hours on end, halfway asleep, he just decided to belt out the words and notes, glad to be a little goofy.

“I believe in a thing called love,

Just listen to the rhythm of my heart!

There's a chance we could make it now,

We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down!

I believe in a thing called loooooooooooove!”

Oof, that high note was killer, and Jim’s voice cracked as he tried to reach it. For the next verse, he reached behind him, trying to touch Claire.

“I want to kiss you every minute, every hour, every day!

You got me in a spin but everything is A.OK!”

He growled, in an attempt to be sexy.

Claire laughed, and sang along with him, just as badly, since she didn’t know the lyrics.

“Touching yoooOOOOoooou, touching meeeeEEEEeeeeee,

Touching you, God you're touching meeeeeEEEEEEEE!”

Merlin covered his ears.

“I believe in a thing called love,

Just listen to the rhythm of my heart.

There's a chance we could make it now,

We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down.

I believe in a thing called looooooooooove!

AAAaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

As the guitar solo broke out, Claire asked, “how do you know this?”

“My mom used to listen to it all the time! And we’d always sing along to it. How can you not!?”

The vocals came back in, with just clapping. “I believe in a thing called love,

Just listen to the rhythm of my heart.

There's a chance we could make it now,

We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down.

I believe in a thing called looooooOOOOOOOoooove,

YEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

At the trash can ending, Jim drummed his hands on the steering wheel dramatically.

Blinky smiled. “It’s always so fun to listen to traditional human ballads.”

Merlin removed his hands. “Is it over?”

NotEnrique laughed. “I didn’t realize we were doing karaoke!”

Jim focused back on driving, panting slightly, though it didn’t matter too much, they were the only ones on the road. “I don’t know, I just really like that song.”

The next song started with a strike of cords on a piano, a bit of salsa thrown into the mix.

“Oh no…” Jim moaned.

“What?”

“I know this one too!”

“It’s Señorita!” Claire clapped cheerfully.

It was then that the group realized that they were listening to a CD, and even if they didn’t know the song at first, they would by the end of the trip.

—

Around dawn, Jim pulled off at an exit that sported a pair of yellow arches.

“It's tearin' up my heart when I'm with you

But when we are apart, I feel it too

And no matter what I do, I feel the pain

With or without you

And no matter what I do, I feel the pain

With or without you!”

Jim pulled into the parking lot, parking under a tree, and shut off the truck.

“Thank God,” Merlin muttered in the backseat.

“Alright, Claire and Merlin get to go in and have breakfast, while Blinky and I figure out how to get him in the backseat.”

Merlin hopped from the truck gratefully, stretching and popping his spine. “And whilst you figure that out, Claire and I will decide who gets to ride in the front. I delegate myself, because I have longer legs.”

Claire huffed. “And I delegate myself because I didn’t turn Jim into a Troll.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”

Claire just smiled at him. “Take a guess.”

As they walked into the McDonalds, Jim climbed out of the truck as well, looking under the seats while Blinky inspected the Heartstone.

“Is everything alright, Master Jim?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking to see if there’s a way to bring the seat up a little.”

“It’s alright. I have become used to sitting in tight, enclosed spaces. Just be glad we are not traveling with Arrrgh.”

“There’s no way he’d fit in here.” Jim chuckled. There was no way to move the seat forward, but he did find a level that allowed the back of the seat to flip up, so Blinky could get in better.

Blinky climbed in, and Jim closed the door and the seat around him. “Comfy?”

Blinky returned a blank look while Jim just snickered. “I only wish I had brought a book or two with me to read.”

“Well, if we pass a book store, we can send Claire in to find something.” Jim climbed into the driver’s seat once again, just in time to dodge the sunlight that peaked through the tree branches. He relaxed, closing his eyes, and getting some rest.

But then, there was a knock on the window.

Jim jolted a bit, and swiveled his head over.

A police officer was staring at him.

Jim put both hands on the wheel. “Stay statue still,” he muttered to Blinky.

“Not going to be a problem.”

Carefully, Jim moved one hand and opened the door a crack. “Can I help you, officer?”

The policeman opened the door all the way, leaning against the frame. “What’s with the get up, son?”

“It’s a costume, sir.”

“And that?” He pointed at the large, unblinking Troll crammed in the backseat.

“Uh…my girlfriend’s costume.”

“Do you have your driver’s license with you?”

Jim nodded, ready to cooperate with the officer. “And I just bought this truck used, so I don’t have my insurance papers, but I can call my mom—“

“That won’t be necessary…” He peered at the license, “…Jim Lake Jr. Do you know why I’m here?”

Come to think of it, he wasn’t even driving. Why was he being questioned? “Uh…I can’t park here?”

He officer huffed, looking stern. “Last night, there was a break in at the Mineral Museum. Someone stole a very large and very valuable gem. One very much like the one in the back of your truck.”

He could have laughed if it wasn’t so totally unfair. Of course. Of course someone stole a giant rock that looked like the Heartstone. Why not? This trip couldn’t just be a simple drive back to Arcadia. Not after the mostly smooth hike. No sir, it had to be filled with drama.

Jim smiled awkwardly. “Uh…you probably wouldn’t believe me if I said that we just happened to find it, would you?”

“Son, I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”

With a defeated sigh, Jim slid out of the seat.

The officer had to look up to meet his eyes. “How old are you?”

“16, sir.”

“Biggest 16-year-old I’ve ever seen.” He muttered, turning Jim around.

“I recently had a growth spurt.” He tried to keep a casual voice as he made eye contact with Blinky in the back seat. “I’ll be fine.” He mouthed.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. You can decide at any time from this moment on to terminate the interview and exercise these rights. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?”

“Yes sir, I have nothing to hide.” That wasn’t exactly true, but his secrets weren’t exactly illegal.

“Alright. I’m calling a tow truck. We’ll be going down to the station, and the director of the museum will be called to identify your rock. If you truly did ‘just find it’, you’ll be free to go.” And with a stern hand, he was guided to the awaiting squad car and locked in the back seat.

Jim looked into the restaurant, hoping that Claire and Merlin would see him in distress. But instead, he saw them in a deep conversation as they ate breakfast.

All too soon, the tow truck came, and Blinky and the Heartstone were also on their way to the station.

A few minutes after they left, Claire and Merlin came out to a empty parking lot.

“Where the bloody hell is the Trollhunter?!”

NotEnrique, who had craftily snuck out of the truck while Jim was being ushered into the squad car, laughed by the door. “Ole Jimbo was arrested, for theft of a huge, precious gemstone.”

“Oh, is that all?” Merlin snorted. “Then I’ll be here, having another coffee.”

—

The song they sing in the car is ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love’ by The Darkness. It is the ultimate sing along song.

[a-rat-and-a-blob]

Drabble Arch: The Second Plague Rat - Subjects of the Sewers

  (This is the 8th and FINAL drabble concerning this story. If you want to read the beginnings of “The Second Plague Rat” go to the wattpad page- link)        

 The dreaded bell of the surface is about to ring the dreaded toll, its noise echoing across the land for all to hear, beckoning for many to wake up into the morning. The bells strikes. I count. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The sixth hour. Morning or night, breakfast or dinner, it doesn't matter to me. The Goopy One must leave to get his food for both him and my creation.

               I cannot be too sure. If he's there, he could ruin everything. My hand ultimately reaches for my neck. His hands are on top of it. I breathe and breathe and breathe. I take a small roach in my fur and send it through the cracks to check. I sit underneath what seems to be the abandoned house so long ago. It was empty of dirty humans and worthless surface filth, just 2 of my subjects in a ghost town. I imagine the silence with only the sound of empty screams from the houses as the winds blew in them. I sit in the humid tunnels beneath waiting for my loyal roachman to return with my information, imagining the scene play out.

               I took the potion out, seeing its green glow and its radiating heat. It's still warm like a green bloody heart, filled with new life for the kingdom. As such, I caress  it as if a baby.. As if Scratch himself..  I even see a reflection across it looking back at me. Today, the sewers will be reborn. Today they'll be brought back to their real home. Today, my first subject will be mine because of this! My greatest treasure! My greatest key! He will not like you.. Yes.. He will fight against you.. He will try to destroy you... but you've seen me.. You know me. You can make them obey me, their ruler! I do not know where they get these insidious thoughts.. Everything I did is for MY kingdom, but YOU can change that..

               CRANK!

               I grow stiff. Only silence clouded my mind. I look across the tunnel to where the source comes from. Instinctively, I place my potion away on my back, raise my crossbow loaded with my traditional poisons and point into the darkness. I only hear the light pitter patter of sewage. My hands shake as I stare directly in darkness. Nothing comes out, but the implications still rang true. I always knew they were true. The humans would come any moment now, but they've always ignored it. They're dead.

               I look down to my crossbow and unloaded the poisons within and replaced them with the potion in the case of desperate measures. My roachman comes back from the cracks. I feel his legs climbing up mine as he tries to go to my fingers. I give him my attention and he nods yes. He wasn't there.  

               The waters wash and fade as I climb up, up, up the pipe. I see the surface quickly. It was utter darkness; I couldn't see anything, but I smell the stench of fresh Zaunite air recycled from the bright city above. It comes closer and closer until finally a large splash can be heard across the house. When I hear it myself, I start to stiffen when I come out of the old worn out porcelain portal. My head immediately jolts to the closed door to my right. I slowly come off and blend in with my surroundings as I've always done. I wait for the door to open or even creak, but nothing happened in what seemed to be 5 good minutes. The Goopy One can come in any moment.

               I open the door slowly to reveal a small brown rat in what seems like an island of light created by a sole burning yellow lantern. He clutches the accursed light fondly as he moves away slowly until he hits a wall. I see the stairs nearby, a way to escape to a deathtrap. Avoiding the light that reveals my shadow, I position myself between him and the stairs to block it if he tries to run. I tip toe slowly to that position, taking note in every step, every movement that my plague rat subject would make.  All he did was stare at the door in anticipation of something, possibly the Goopy One himself.

               "There you are.." I growl.

               He didn't even turn; he knew the voice. He steps back and tries to run away. He squeaks and squeals for help, but nothing can be heard hear. "Now.. Time for YOU to go back to MY  kingdom.. where you belong.." I hold the potion up again in my hand for him to see. He shrivels even more, moving back until he feel the concrete pavement of the wall behind him.  The light he grasps illuminates it, showing the childish drawings he makes: a large rat with no pupils, me, atop a throne of rat bones with a large "X" covering it all. I'm taken aback. "What's... What's this!? This.. extermination!" I shout, pointing to the image behind. He wouldn't look back; he was already staring right at it. "You're supposed to like me.. You're supposed to  like ME! I'm your creator AND the first plague rat! And.. and... and you see THIS! He brainwashed yo-"

               CRANK!

               It's the sound. Again. Much louder than the last. They were coming.

               "You.. You think you're safe here!?" I shout, pointing to the direction of the sound. "The Goopy One's delusional.. You heard that.. Those are the surface dwellers.. The surface dwellers with their machines and chemicals.. With their many ways to exterminate US!" His face didn't change. He only closed his eyes, thinking it would make me disappear.

               I grip his hand. He tries to fight. He's too weak. "Everything will change my little subject.." I said. I gesture to the wall with my supposed face. "All of this will change! You are Twitch's subject! Twitch is not your enemy.. The sewer king wants the best for his subjects.. I have something to make you see the truth!"

               I take out the potion behind my back. He fought back even more at its sight. "DON'T YOU FIGHT! Your king commands it! Just close your eyes.. It may hurt, but it will all be better in the end.." I inch the potion closer and closer to Scratch's face until I feel the cask that holds it heat up suddenly. I look at it in surprise to see it glow bright. Suddenly, Scratch escapes my grip and pushes me away with immense ferocity. I look up to see his fur slightly glow green as it did back in the comforting depths of my home. It.. it must be a sign! It must be a sign that it works! Hehe.. It will work!

               Seeing my position, he lunges up to the stairs to find a way out. As he runs over to the supposed safety of the wooden steps, he stops at the loud rumble above. They're here. Time was running out. With no thought, I lunge at him, pinning him down to the ground. He squirms endlessly in my weight as his fur begin to react again.

               "Just a drip.. JUST A DRIP! PLEASE!" I shout desperately as I resist the urge to cackle. I hold the potion up to his face, letting it drip in his mouth one by one. Let the lies end! Let my subjects be with me! Let them trust me! Let them be mine! It drops closer and closer and closer to his mouth. I grow eager at the result.

               He screams and screams and screams as the drops enter, but it will be worth it. Like the bones in my lair, the sewer king must face pain and sacrifice. Closer and closer and closer..

               "Hey! What's going on down there!?" I heard someone say from the light above. I stop in my track, but that didn't stop Scratch. He threw me off and cowered back in his corners, knowing that voice wasn't ZAC's. He shriveled back below the my hideous image, dropping the lantern in the floor, as he begin to grasp his mouth, squeaking in pain. I see smoking coming from the skin. He begin to barf it out, ejecting it all out from his system. i saw a good portion of his lower face all scarred and burned as he tries to barf the poison out. He was vulnerable, too busy with the toxins to face me, yet I still hear the many footsteps above trying to lift the furniture blocking the entrance. I look up at my picture and look back at the potion, the one that I worked so hard on..

               I took my crossbow and fired at the lone lantern. The island of light was gone. The image was gone. Suddenly, the door was blown open and massive amount of light broke through from the surface. On the stairs above us was a sole surface dwelling monster marching down the stairs. More were coming. I tried to hold Scratch's hand, but he refused to escape with me... Those thoughts still plagued his mind.. There was no choice.

               I fired and fired and fired. I hear screams. I hear the heads hitting the ground, The monsters above us continuously fell. I hear my cackle. I hear my loud threats. No one was taking my subject away. No one was destroying us. Guns were fired, but there were aimless in the dark while the light made their location cleared. I fired and fired and fired....

               All of the walls and the drawings were cracked, and the room was filled with corpses that no one could see. Only 2 remain in the darkness. I approach the shadow still shivering and twitching in the loan corner. I try to get him up, but even when I saved him, he would never come up..

               Suddenly the house begin to creak and cry. Rubbles of cements  begin to fall on our fur. I look up in horror as the basement begins to collapse.

               I knew something went wrong. I just knew it. I could feel the screams and the pain from so many miles away. From even the cultivairs of the upper levels of Zaun, I could still sense what seems to be a massacre. I drop my food and just went through the pipes as fast as I could. I zoom past the depths of the city wishing that it was all just superstition, that Scratch was just safe drawing away whatever he wants, but all of that washes away when I see the neighborhood in ruins with new abandoned construction equipment. "SCRATCH!?" I scream. "SCRATCH!!??" I run through the pipes and crack of my old house and went to the basement. The smell of death and blood hit me hard as I went through, fueling my anxieties and woes even more. Suddenly, I pop out of the pipes into the basement as sediment begin to fall down on my head. I look around to find corpses of all kinds and broken pieces of Scratch's charming art. However, if it was all corpses, there wouldn't be the sense of fear and dread. I look in front to see Scratch all safe and another trying to hold on to him. I couldn't care less on who this other person is; my instinct drove in and I grab the two quickly. Large cracks begin to form, letting the zaunite light through. I ready my legs to jump through the building. "Hold on tight fellas.." I warned. I leap upwards, crashing through the frail ceiling like a meteorite aimed towards the sky. As I went up, I looked down to see the disasters of my old home broken to smithereens by a nearby wrecking ball. My substance begins to grow light, becoming a small parachute for the two.

               I tore my sight away from the wreckage. "At least Scratch was safe.." I repeat to myself. "At least Sc-" I stop when my eyes begin to look at the second person that I saved: Twitch. This inclusion changed everything. He was responsible for all of those dead bodies. I begin to notice the numerous new scars that Scratch obtained , specifically a big one located on his jaw..

               The two landed softly on the ground. Immediately, Scratch went up to hug me, digging his face to his head to relax the newfound scars. I hug back, relieved that he was still alive, but then I look back at the twisted monster.

               I place Scratch down with a small bloblet to press his injuries on and march to twitch. I grab him by the chest and pin him down to the ground.

               "What. Did. You. Do?" I ask adamantly. "What did you do to Scratch!? And what did you do to everyone!?"

               "I.. I saved him.." He croaks. "Those... people.. if I wasn't there, they would've killed him.."

               I glance at the wrecking ball and then the wreckage of my old home and then the Twitch himself, looking tired and defeated. "You still tried to feed him that potion..." I growl. my grip released him.  "If I see you again, I'm breaking an arm. I don't care. I don't want to see you again.." I turn back to him, walking

               "But where will you go..?" Twitch squeaks. I'm surprised. I was expecting that he would run away like the coward he was. "Look what happened here.. The humans are spreading up here. They'll find you.. and they'll exterminate you.. They're a plague.. I told you many times! They're a plague! AND HE WOULD'VE BEEN KILLED!"

               "I'll find another place!"

               "But where!?"  I pause, not knowing where to go. Everywhere I look I see old houses that are now dead, house that I thought were safe havens. "It's.. it's the only place.. I have more rooms in the sewers.. Please.... You don't have to live in my lair. Please..."

               I march back into the sewers, packing the normal trash bag beds and yellow lanterns into an empty pipe room. Me and Scratch said nothing throughout the trip. He only clings around my neck, not wanting to be in this living nightmare any longer. When we settle down, I begin to check the numerous cracks of the pipe room, looking for roaches and bugs and anything Twitch can use to spy on us. I still threatened to break his arm if I saw him here. Still would. Nothing was in the cracks. Nothing was there yet might I add.

               I look over to Scratch who was shivering on his trash bag, not believing the turn of events. I come over to comfort him. "Hey.. This is only temporary. We'll find a home eventually.. Don't worry about it," I sigh. " I have something to show you." I look into my trash bag and took out what seems to be a small magical hextech gauntlet meant to manipulate any form of magic. When we were packing, I went over to get something at the promenade before we left. Usually my parents would disapprove of stealing, but I had no choice.

               I wore it and begin to show a small electric ball. "See this? It can do all sort of things." I begin to form it in the many drawings that Scratch has made throughout the weeks. Some just 2 dimensional static drawings while others were 3 dimensional models acting the drawings out. "I got it just for you.. You can play around it. Just focus on the ball and focus on what you want to make.." I watched as Scratch manipulate the ball endlessly. I see the balls glow reflected in his eyes as it gives light to a dark world, same as I when my parents first showed it to me. I would have to teach him how to wield it. I don't even know how to do that myself..

               I look back in the dark corridors of the sewers, thinking I heard a large skitter. Thinking I heard the footsteps of what could be a hidden rat. he was nowhere to be found..

               As Scratch played with the ball, it began to turn green.

[that1nkyone]

Spectrum Ch 32

[ 1 ] -  [ 2 ] - [ 3 ] - [ 4 ] - [ 5 ] - [ 6 ] - [ 7 ] - [ 8 ] - [ 9 ] - [ 10 ] - [ 11 ] - [ 12 ] - [13] - [ 14 ] - [15 ] - [ 16 ] - [ 17 ] - [ 18 ] - [19 ] - [ 20 ] - [ 21a ] - [ 21b ] - [22] - [23 (Intermission) ] - [ 24 ] - [ 25 ] - [ 26 ] - [ 27 ] - [ 28 ] - [ 29 ] - [ 30 ] - [ 31 ]

There’s no way we can be this close. Holy heck.

Next chapter will be the last. Though there may be an epilogue of sorts. I feel we might need one.

For now, here is part one of the finale.

Thank you for reading, guys. : )

Chapter 32! In which there is a fall.

An orange laser burned past Gaster.

 Shrieks echoed through the halls.

The stench of rocket fuel filled his senses.

The halls whipped by him. The trail of jet fire curled away from him as his hands stampeded against the floor and walls and ceiling.

Gaster almost didn’t notice any of it.

Frisk was speeding away from him, yet his vision continued to tunnel onto the small human as if they were a beacon.

Even Papyrus, who thundered down the hall behind him - having joined the chase from heavens-knows-where - was beginning to become little more than background noise to him.

 Yes.

 This was it.

This was the way it should be.

Just him. Just the doctor and this focus.

No voices, boggling about his mind. No arguments within his skull, none of his body working against him.

Everything flowed, in a smooth exhilarating machine. Everything within him meshed together as it should.

He hadn’t won yet. Gaster understood that. But the doctor almost felt a moment of peace, as the chaos unravelled around him.

He gestured forth, still in the serenity of the moment. Three Blaster skulls darted forward in response, light collecting in their respective maws.

The whine of another laser sounded from behind the doctor, and he effortlessly whipped around to dodge as Papyrus let forth his own blast.

Gaster heard a shriek and a clatter, and glanced down to see the remains of one of the Blaster skulls, passing underneath him as they continued onwards down the hall.

He turned again, seeing the two remaining Blaster skulls releasing their own blasts towards the fleeing human.

Frisk suddenly seemed to drop from midair, straight out of their line of fire. The human swept inches over the tiles, and Papyrus shot again from behind. Another Blaster skull exploded into shards and light.

Gaster chuckled.

The human had a talent for dodging, that was for certain.

He gestured backwards, and the remaining Blaster retreated a few metres away from Frisk, back to his side.

He could hear Papyrus keeping pace behind him, the creature panting wolfishly - but the doctor knew that he would not tire easily.

His gaze off of Frisk for a moment, Gaster spun around once more - his extra hands continuing their pace to carry him towards the human. He gestured, and the Blaster turned to face Papyrus as well, building up a laser blast in its maw.

Orange flickered in Papyrus’ eye sockets for the briefest of moments. He stumbled into a slower pace, allowing some distance between himself and the doctor.

Gaster smiled. He rose his free hand, as the Blaster skull beside him reached full charge -

- and turned to face the retreating Frisk.

He brought his hand down. The Blaster fired.

One of Frisk’s wings exploded.

There was a shriek of terror from Papyrus. The human kicked about as their small craft spiralled out of control.

They bounced off the ground, the rocket engine spluttering as the human hastily began pressing buttons on the front of their harness.

The mechanism released Frisk, and they hit the floor, rolling from the impact.

Rather than crash into pieces, their harness suddenly collapsed into itself. It spun and shifted and flipped until it was simply a phone once more, clattering across the tiles.

Frisk rolled to a stop next to it, their arms immediately scrambling for the object. But they were clearly disoriented. They tried to stand, and only leaned heavily to the side, staggering directly into the wall.

< HOLD ON, FRISK! > Came a sudden bark from behind Gaster. The human finally managed to grab their phone - and promptly fell against the wall with a groan.

Gaster smirked, eyes fixed on the helpless human. He waved a hand forth as Papyrus darted past him, distracted.

A Blaster skull obediently hovered by Gaster’s side at his summons. The whine of the laser charge sounded as it gathered its energy.

The doctor brought his hand down in one decisive command.

 And then the Blaster skull exploded into shards beside him.

 Like that, the focus disappeared.

The doctor flinched away from the blast, startled. A scrabbling of claws sounded, and Gaster looked up in time to see Papyrus reach Frisk.

The taller Blaster closed his jaws on the back of Frisk’s sweater and picked them up - darting away from the doctor and down the hall.

In a smoldering rage, Gaster spun around, scanning the area with a snarl. His focus was interrupted. Ruined.

A laser blast had shot down his weapon before it could fire - and Papyrus had clearly been busy attempting to save the human -

Gaster’s glare intensified.

Sans.

… It had to have been Sans. Of course.

The other Blaster may have been injured, but his laser was still functional.

Gaster frowned, as he looked around. He could not see the other beast anywhere - not even across the CORE chamber, in some sort of concealed level in the facility.

The other skeleton brother, however, was a deceptive one. The Blaster was clearly capable of trickery.

He gestured with both hands.

What remained of the Blaster platoon materialised around him. A substantial amount - a solid eight.

Gaster found himself smiling at that familiar number. This was all he would need.

FIND HIM. He commanded the chattering platoon, turning his attention to the retreating Papyrus, vanishing around the curve of the hall. FINISH HIM FOR GOOD.

Gaster was certain of one thing - Sans was injured.

He would not get far. He was now simply a broken, malfunctioning weapon - one he could not coax or control.

No matter what strings he pulled.

Gaster frowned, his mind returning to the matter at hand. His target had been carried out of sight, and he needed to rectify this.

He surged forth, stampeding down the hall once more with a quick summoning gesture. Two Blaster skulls broke off from the rest of the platoon and darted ahead of him - leading the way, fixated on his target.

The doctor focused as Papyrus came back into view, around the curve of the hall. However, rather than running, his slender form was suddenly still - his back still facing towards Gaster.

He had stopped completely, and now seemed to be digging furiously into the tiled floor beneath him, Frisk still clutched in his jaws. Debris and ceramic shards were flying behind him as he dug.

Papyrus was trying to drop to the facility level beneath them, the doctor realized. Trying to escape. And he couldn’t use his laser because of his precious cargo.

With a smirk, Gaster thrust a hand out to the Blaster beast, listening to both lasers charge within his weapons. Papyrus must have noted his presence, as he suddenly began digging with more desperation and force than he had, before -

 - and then, the left Blaster skull suddenly slammed into the right.

 Gaster stumbled, off balance, as both skulls slammed into the wall from the impact, bouncing off the ceiling and floor, respectively. They vanished behind him, shrieking in pain.

The doctor whirled around, agitated. Then, he froze.

The group he’d sent to hunt down Sans were now clustered behind them. In their many faces, he saw panic and confusion. They all chattered, ceaselessly.

  < FriENd! FRIeNd! WhY? wHy? >

                                                                         < WeAKeNED uS! >

 <  wHo’s tHeRe? WhO’s wHeRe? >

                                                                < BuRNiNg bUrNInG BUrNing buRniNG - >

 Gaster faced the group, wide-eyed. He could not see either of the two Blaster skull who had failed to take their shot, seconds ago. In spite of their cracks and scars, they were indistinct from the rest of the group.

A burning anger rose in him.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL? He growled.

Suddenly, there was the clatter of plaster. Gaster spun around, just in time to see Papyrus’ lengthly tail vanish into the large hole in the floor. The dust of debris curled in the air, catching the violet light of the CORE.

The whine of a laser sounded before Gaster could pursue.

There was loud explosion behind him, and a shower of white shards clattered on the tiles beneath him. Gaster’s arms pulled him away from the group, and he turned to face them, wide-eyed.

Yet another Blaster skull had been shot and disintegrated.

The cluster of Blasters began to shriek and chatter in panic. One threw itself into the CORE window, causing a web of cracks to appear. Several skulls scattered away, one colliding hard into Gaster in its panic.

He shoved it away with his many hands, his shocked expression twisting into a scowl.

ENOUGH! He snapped at the weapon, who chattered back, morosely.

The Blaster skull responded to his words - with the rest of the cluster chiming in with more of their garbled nonsense.

  < PaCk hURt mE! PACk HUrT! >

                                                               < NoT mE! nOt mE! >

 < KiLL! BuRn! KILL! BURN! >

                                                            < I mUsT bE sAfE! I mUSt Be SaFE! >

 The Blaster skull pulled out of his grasp, backing into another agitated skull. It shrieked and bit at the other. They suddenly rounded on each other, snapping, shrieking and hissing. Another one within the cluster pursued another, charging its laser as its target shrieked, attempting to escape.

Gaster gritted his teeth.

He held up all his entire swath of hands, eyesockets narrowed.

STOP THIS! He hissed. AFTER THE HUMAN!

Several Blaster skulls managed to fall in line, even the fleeing ones turning around and returning to  their master. But two more were still chattering and snarling at each other, growling threateningly as they floated apart.

 < think you’re losin’ your touch there, doc. >

 Gaster’s eye sockets grew wide.

He spun around - slamming a hand on the Blaster closest to him. Imposing his will as best he could.

 < and that’s saying a lot. you know, considering. >

 The doctor’s many arms twitched, erratically, his gaze darting about. He looked across the chamber, over his shoulder, down the hall. He even glanced down at the hole in the floor.

Sans’ voice was close.

SHOW YOURSELF. Gaster demanded, eyelights shrinking into pinpricks.

There was the whine of a laser. Another Blaster exploded into shards, and Gaster darted away from the cluster, his gaze furiously searching his surroundings.

 < nah. that’d take more effort than i’m willing to put in, right now. >

 A furious grin appeared on the doctor’s features.

NO EFFORT TO ASSIST YOUR OWN BROTHER, I SEE. He said, his eyes darting around the halls in search of the Blaster.

 < pap’s got this covered.> Came the reply. < he’s probably better suited for protecting the kid, honestly. >

 Gaster’s features twisted into a frown as he heard the voice speaking from behind him, once more.

 < y’know, you got a lot of nerve, doc. >

 He whipped around. He saw nothing, but a few other of his chattering weaponry.

 < being all high and mighty about the dangers of doing stuff ‘at the cost of everyone else.’  last i checked - judging folks was my job. one of ‘em, anyway. >

 There was no trace of Sans. With a growl, Gaster turned to look down the hall after Papyrus.

But in doing so, his gaze was caught by a bright flash. A rumble sounded, and he suddenly looked over at the large chamber beside him.

His eye sockets grew wide.

The CORE was rippling with all kinds of furious colours - red, blue, orange, even teal raging across the surface in streaks.

 <  while we’re at it, weren’t you were the one who wanted that test run for the coolant, all those years ago? before it was even ready? >

 Gaster stared at the CORE.

He had never seen his creation so…  large, before. The view would have been frightening in some ways - but moreso, it was fascinating. It churned with power and heat. It was about to hit critical mass.

The only thing that brought him back into the room was the realization that the explosion could kill Frisk. The answer to all his problems.

Gaster’s fascinated smile faded.

…but what of the nature of the explosion?

Would it also erase the human from existence, rendering his efforts for naught?

Gaster shook his head, a rising feeling of discomfort within him. He was away from his target, and the concentration he’d had was slipping away entirely. Without the high of his focus, the air seemed… heavier. Constricting.

He reached out for the parts of himself he’d dismissed, to help piece together the situation before him. But he received no response.

He’d conquered them, after all.

Now he was alone.

 < you were the one who wanted to throw everything in danger, despite what everyone else thought. > Came Sans’ voice, once again.

 Gaster’s fear dissolved into irritation.

 < you worked owel into the ground, treated reno like dirt - made sprig work to the point of passin’ out, trying to figure out all your secrets. not to mention, you kept dismissing val. you rode off the back of the folks who actually cared about the core, and the monsters that depended on it… >

 SHUT UP. Gaster muttered.

He began to turn towards the direction of the Control Panel room, only for a shrieking Blaster skull to slam into his form. He reeled, coughing as his many arms braced out to the sides of the hall.

He snarled, looking up at the offending weapon. It had a few more bite marks upon it - visibly fleeing from a scuffle from another one of the malfunctioning weapons. At this rate, barely functional in its poorly-made, battered state.

 < And while all that went down, you just sat back, spending your time making things that depended on you. stuff only you could really control. >

 The doctor twitched.

He pointed at the offending, malfunctioning Blaster skull, who shrieked in alarm. The other two turned on it by command.

It was promptly blasted it into shards.

The satisfaction Gaster felt was short lived, as the voice continued speaking.

 < you know, maybe i was a stupid kid. a stupid kid with dangerous powers. powers that you wanted to be kept under wraps. i get that. >

 The CORE hummed once more, reverberating as it turned a deep magenta. The halls were soaked in reds and purples as it rumbled louder.

Gaster turned to face it.

He could see his startled reflection in the reinforced glass.

 < terrible reason to make the mutagen, though. >

 The doctor watched his reflection began to twitch and spasm.

A humming sound reverberated through the halls. Gaster felt something in himself pull in one direction, then another. Then two parts, pulling in opposing directions. Then three. Four.

He could see his body pulling apart. Stretching every which way - not unlike his many arms.

Gaster gritted his teeth, his hands all bracing out to the sides of the hall, keeping him suspended as if he were in the center of a tarlike web.

 < you want the solution that makes everything easy. that fixes everything. don’t think i don’t i get that. >

 The air sliced open around them, once more. With such force that Gaster could barely find it in himself to think.

The Blasters around him began shrieking in panic, once more. Several cries were cut off - punctuated by the sound of shattering and roaring.

The other parts of Gaster’s SOUL were still silent - having finally submitted to his will. But his body destabilised, his being twitching and warping.

He felt his cranium split open. The crack above his right eye became a chasm, stretching further and further apart. Gaster watched his reflection, seeing nothing but blackness inside his very own skull. His eyesockets flashed violet, flickering wildly in response to the CORE’s energy.

He was unrecognisable. Falling apart.

When Sans spoke next, his voice was strained.

 < i think you know that stuff like this doesn’t get fixed so easily, doc. >

 The black rifts vanished and Gaster forcibly pulled his being back into his centre. His cranium slammed back together. He dropped heavily to the ground, shaking in pain. His many arms lay like a mess of black tape upon the tiles.

He looked around himself. There were new shards on the floor, the remains of Blasters that had failed to duck out of the paths of the rifts in time.

 < i get wanting things to be simple, again. i get wanting to do whatever you can so it’ll stay that way. >

 Gaster’s eyes darted from Blaster skull to Blaster skull.

Out of the makeshift platoon he had managed to construct, there were only three left.

 < you’re right about me, you know? i’m not the nicest of guys. i tried to fix things, quickly.  even tried to push ‘em out of sight and mind, just so things could be convenient - nice ’n easy. >

 The doctor’s arms lashed out at the three Blaster skulls, attempting to dismiss them back into his inventory. But at the sudden movement, they scattered, shrieking in terror.

The rifts had disoriented them once more. And he’d lost his own focus.

 < guess i haven’t been much better than you, on that side of things. promises or none. >

 One Blaster skull shrieked, turning on the other in seconds. Its massive jaws clamped down on the other’s crest, causing cracks to travel down its skull.

They struggled and wrestled, slamming each other against the walls of the hall in a maddened, frenzied struggle.

 < we ain’t so different, i guess. but see - the thing is, i’ve decided that i’m not about to drag everyone down into oblivion with me just to make myself feel better. just to prove a point. >

 Shards began to fall off them both. The third Blaster skull darted behind Gaster, seeking shelter. It chattered loudly as it watched the scuffle.

Finally, one Blaster skull bit hard into the cranium of the other. The force of its own bite caused its own jaw to crack, the lines travelling up its snout. The lights in its eye sockets extinguished, and it crashed to the floor. The other hovered for a few moments, free of the other’s grasp - only to fall upon the tiles and shatter.

 < oh yeah. that reminds me, actually. >

 Gaster stared hard at the mess of shards and shattered skulls before him, his features twisted into fear.

 < i never did answer your question, back in waterfall. a few days ago. >

 The doctor’s gaze darted about, wildly. At the empty halls - across the chamber, everywhere he could see.

 < you know the one. about how it feels, havin’ your own weapons turn on you. >

 Gaster froze.

 < i can tell ya now. it’s not a great feeling. >

 Slowly, he turned to the final Blaster skull at his side.

He looked down into its large, black eye sockets.

 < then again… >

 Within one socket, one blue ring flickered into view.

 < Y o u   k n e w   t h a t ,   d i  d n ‘ t   y o u ? >

 Gaster stepped back as the skull lunged at him.

White, glowing skeletal claws appeared inches from his face and they dug deep into his black, tarlike torso. He saw blue, veinlike patterns of light surge up from them, reforming Sans’ forelegs, his scapulae, his ribcage…

Sans’ body was still glowing as Gaster felt the full weight of the Blaster hit him with all the force of a train. The collision knocked any proverbial wind out of the doctor and all he saw was the teeth and claws of his own creation.

Just as Sans’ back legs had reformed, Gaster felt himself collide into the glass of the CORE chamber from the force. He heard the glass crack and splinter and shatter and suddenly the heat of the chamber assailed him from all sides.

For a moment, he felt numb horror. But the free-fall he expected didn’t come.

Instead, here in the chamber, he felt his back collide into a burning, steel platform.

    A loud crash of glass echoed through the halls.

Papyrus’ head snapped to face the sound, eyes wide.

He trotted to a stop, still keeping Frisk’s sweater tightly gripped in his jaws. He glanced around at the halls, then across the CORE chamber.

Where had that come from…?

“Papyrus…?”

Frisk’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at the human. They looked a little more alert than they’d been earlier, but he could still see the exhaustion in their features.

“Y-you alright?” They asked, dazedly. Then, they winced in pain, rubbing at their side.

Papyrus crooned, looking around. It certainly figured that their friend would still be checking up on the wellbeing of others, despite everything.

He couldn’t hear the Blaster skulls anywhere nearby - nor could he sense Gaster in the immediate vicinity. But he needed to set the poor Frisk down, somewhere…

“…we’re on the Control Room level, right?”

Papyrus blinked, glancing down at the bleary-eyed Frisk. They shook their head, managing to pocket their phone.

“… O-okay.” They said, more to themself. “…We need to get over there.”

Papyrus crooned in confusion. Frisk looked back up at him, managing a firm look.

“I’ll explain later.” They said, quietly. “I… We have a plan.”

Papyrus gave a huff, then glanced around again.

Though he wished that the human would say more, the Blaster obliged, darting down the hall. This was no time to be standing out in the open like this.

Besides, it appeared Frisk wasn’t alone in their shenanigans! Which meant…

“… Papyrus?”

The Blaster blinked, looking down at Frisk.

“Sans was with you…” They said, quietly. “With Gaster…”

They looked up at him, concerned.

“… Is Sans safe?”

Papyrus hesitated. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the empty hall.

He told himself not to worry. Not too much, at least.

Sans wasn’t doubting him, anymore. Papyrus felt that he should attempt to do the same.

Though he kept at ear out, regardless.

Papyrus looked down at Frisk, crooning reassuringly. He wasn’t sure if he could answer the human’s question. And not simply because he was literally unable to answer questions right now.

< … HE’S GOT A WAY OUT OF HERE. > He said, more to himself than Frisk. And yet, Papyrus was uncertain if his brother would take that option.

They’d simply agreed to meet after all this was over. And Papyrus couldn’t help but wonder what his brother would do in the meantime.

As the Blaster darted down the hall, he could see the shards of dispatched Blaster skulls coming closer and closer. Slowing his pace, he was careful to step over them, giving a quiet whine as he did so.

They were close to the Control Panel, again. He’d made a full circuit around the facility hall around the CORE chamber.

He slowed down, all the way.  He approached the battered sliding doors, his sternum growing tight.

He forcibly tried not to think about the image of his good friend being hurled through the window, directly into the chamber itself. Which, of course, meant it was all he could think about.

His bones were rattling as he peered into the room, cautiously.

 And a teal-green fist stopped inches from his snout.

 Undyne and Papyrus stared at each other for five seconds.

The Blaster nearly let out an excited yelp - though soon realized that any sounds he’d make would be muffled by Frisk.

And at the same time, Undyne had slammed her hands over her own mouth.

“MMMMmM.” She reprimanded, her eye blazing in anger. Yet Papyrus couldn’t care less, stamping his feet in excitement.

The captain waved her hand, holding a finger over her thinly pressed lips.

Papyrus, though a little confused, obliged. He dipped his head, gaze darting about and falling silent.

Frisk waved at her, pressing their lips together. Leaning his head forward, Papyrus finally released them as Undyne took hold of them, cringing at their injuries.

“Oh, geeze.” She whispered, hushed. “…I told you one of us should have come with you, punk.”

Frisk pointed at Papyrus, smiling.

“Nothing he couldn’t handle.” They whispered back. Then, they looked down.

“… I distracted Gaster for as long as I could. And I tried to lead him closer to here. But I got shot down.” They looked up. “Papyrus got me out of danger.”

Despite the situation, Papyrus felt his metaphorical heart swell.

“… well, let me tell ya, you did enough.” Undyne said, looking up at the ceiling, then over her shoulder. “We’re almost ready.”

Papyrus blinked, feeling a little left out of the loop as Undyne looked back at Frisk.

“Mind holding out for a little bit longer? I can’t heal you here. CORE space, remember?”

The Blaster noted that she’d glanced out the shattered CORE window of the control room as she spoke. But Frisk nodded, in understanding.

“I’ll be okay.” They whispered back. “What’s going on?”

Undyne walked over to one of the concrete science benches in the room and set them down, their back up against it.

“A certain bonehead must’ve figured out what we were up to.” She said, her gaze darting up at the ceiling. “… but we gotta keep it down.”

Papyrus blinked, slowly stepping forward into the room.

He could see Alphys, who was now standing at the controls beneath the window. She wiped her forehead, notably receiving the brunt of the CORE’s heat from the open window.

Despite this, she was typing rapidly at the controls. Beside her were a couple of flickering screen displays.

One was full of numbers and diagrams that Papyrus couldn’t quite identify at this distance.

The other appeared to be… video footage?

“You almost done, Alphys?” Undyne asked, quietly. She’d stepped in front of Papyrus, rubbing the back of her neck. The Blaster saw some new scars and scrapes upon her back.

“Give me ten more seconds.” Alphys said, in a loud whisper.

Papyrus gently nudged the captain’s shoulder with his muzzle. His intent was to get some kind of explanation for what was going on.

And it was certainly not for his eye sockets to well up when she turned to face him.

Especially not when he realized the scars were from when she’d been pushed through the window and into the CORE chamber and…

Strong arms wrapped around his muzzle in a firm hug. Papyrus shut his eye sockets, giving a soft whimper.

“Sorry if I worried ya.” He heard Undyne say, hushed. “… You guys had me worried, too.”

Papyrus gave soft whine. She gave the side of his head a scratch as she withdrew, sighing.

Then, she stood up straight, a firm look in her features. Papyrus shook his head, his own expression hardening in focus (he suspected he looked less dignified with tearstains down his muzzle).

“I’ll run you by things quickly, but things are about to get crazy real soon. You mind making sure Frisk’s nice and protected?”

Papyrus nodded firmly - and would have saluted if he could. He slowly and carefully stepped towards the human, looking up at the Control panel.

“Undyne.”

The whisper was urgent. Undyne darted forward to the control panel, where Alphys stared firmly at the screens.

“H-he’s got him where we want him.”

Papyrus stared at the two monitors near the buttons, once more. He hadn’t gotten a clear view of the second screen, yet.

It wasn’t video footage. It was a video feed.

“What do we do?” Alphys whispered.

Papyrus’ sternum grew tight.

On the grainy display was Gaster…

 … lying pinned beneath Sans’ claws.

  A maddened gasp rose up from the doctor.

The force that had felt so unstoppable and terrifying had come to a screeching halt. Gaster’s eye sockets darted up to his adversary, who seemed to be losing focus in his pain.

With all the strength he could muster, Gaster’s many arms surged forth, grabbing Sans by the sternum and managing to shove the creature off of him. Sans’ claws ripped free of the doctor’s torso, leaving it sagging and torn.

The Blaster stumbled back, and his back leg gave, causing him to collapse to his side.

Gaster heaved in one gasp after another. Sans’ body had fully-reformed -  though it appeared the burden of his injuries had returned with it.

His femur had a crack travelling up it, now - and it was clear to see that the exposure to the CORE energy wasn’t sitting well with the Blaster. His eye socket was flickering between blue and yellow - and he shut it tightly, groaning as it crackled about inside his skull.

Instead of continuing his attack, Sans slowly began pushing himself back towards the shattered window.

A twisted smile appeared on the doctor’s features, though he was still trembling.

The fool didn’t have the energy left to finish him.

And yet…

The doctor frowned, hearing a quiet chuffing through the roar of the CORE.

The beast finally lay still on the steel platform, amongst the window shards. He was chuckling quietly - deliriously - his features screwed up slightly in pain. 

< welp. > He breathed. < I guess that’s it, then. >

The doctor shakily pulled himself off the platform, shaking with his own laughter.

WHAT… DID YOU HOPE TO ACHIEVE? Gaster said, his smile twisted and strange. YOUR CHILDISH RAMPAGE ONLY SERVED TO BE YOUR END!

His breathing grew haggard, and desperate.

EVEN NOW, YOU STILL FAIL TO KILL ME! He bellowed.

Sans shrugged at that.

< nah. >

Gaster heard a small, scraping sound. He noted the Blaster was steadily digging his claws into the steel beneath him.

< don’t think the plan was to kill you, doc. >

The doctor heard a ‘GACHUNK.’ His gaze darted downwards with a frown.

 The sound had come from beneath them.

  Undyne withdrew from the glowing, blue canister. It sat securely within the large mechanism in the corner of the room, the machine humming to life.

She tried to ignore the sound of Papyrus’ bones, rattling softly. She tried to ignore the sound of Frisk’s shaky and nervous breathing.

“… You sure about this?” Undyne whispered, glancing at the video feed once more.

“I’m sure.” Alphys said, softly. “… If anyone can withstand this, it’s him. The odds are good. A-and we’re out of time.”

Despite the certainty in her voice, there was a pause. The scientist’s claws hovered above the panel. They were trembling.

“You ready?” asked Undyne.

Alphys drew in a breath.

“No.” She said.

 There was a brief silence, before she reached forward and began to type furiously on the control panel before her.

    The entire facility began to hum. Gaster’s eye sockets grew wide as he looked downwards.

The platform they stood upon. The only small part of the CORE chamber’s interior that even had such a thing, jutting out towards the ball of energy itself.

 … They were standing atop the Control Room.

 And someone…

… Someone was messing with the control panel.

Urgency driving his movements, he gestured to summon a Blaster skull -

- only for nothing to appear by his side.

He gestured again, and again.

He found himself blaming their insolence, before spinning to face the CORE, itself.

Gaster stepped forward to the edge of the platform, prepared to climb down through the window to intervene with whatever futile attempts were being made -

- and froze, as something in the base of the enormous chamber caught his eye.

The light left his eye sockets, as he watched a glowing, blue liquid branch out through the maze of water channels beneath the CORE itself.

Arcs of blue magic rose from the concoction, up into the huge and crackling CORE. And almost instantly, the heat and roaring of the energy sphere began to subside.

Gaster’s hands balled into fists.

… The CORE was slowly shrinking.

And he could hear - barely, above the roar - the clattering of shards (glass and bone), slowly rolling upon the platform he stood upon.

The colours on the CORE’s surface grew cold. Purples, blues and greens began to churn on its surface at it seemed to compress in on itself.

The shards at his feet picked up speed, whipping past him. They went flying, carried by the pull of the CORE itself.

Gaster stared at his creation.

With fear came anger.

With anger came desperation.

He ducked down, his many arms gripping on the surface of the platform as he began to crawl down, through the shattered window of the control room - his hands hovering inches away from the buttons beneath the window -

- and then he felt a force begin to pull him back.

Gaster felt the forces of the CORE begin to tug him in its direction, and almost instantly his many hands lunged outward, grabbing everything and anything - from the window frames to the broken, jagged shards. Keeping him anchored to the platform.

In his rush, the doctor had dropped a level down. And now, he had a clear view of the inside of the control room.

His gaze focused into a frigid glare.

The infernal scientist had ducked down behind the shelter of one of the benches, and she was now peering back at him, holding her glasses firm against her face. The cold colours of the CORE gleamed brightly in her lenses.

He saw the human, Frisk - injured, but alive. They were crouched low on the tiles, staring directly at him in surprise.

He saw Papyrus, curled and braced against the floor, his claws digging into the tiles as he sheltered Frisk from the force. His eye sockets were focused past the doctor - having the gall to ignore him.

And finally, he saw the captain of the royal guard, near the back of the room.

Before he could process her presence, his gaze was caught by something next to her.

The coolant receptacle. It had a large, empty cylindrical canister currently inserted into it.

Undyne had dug her fingers into the wall beside it, her sharp teeth gritted in strain - but twisting into a grin as soon as their eyes met.

“HEY!” She shouted over at him. “THIS LOOK FAMILIAR?!”

Gaster strained against the forces of the CORE, trying to pull himself into the room to rip every single one of its occupants apart - just as Undyne kicked a leg out to the receptacle, pushing its ‘release’ button.

“NO? HOW ABOUT A CLOSER LOOK?!”

The canister disengaged from the receptacle.

Gaster’s eye sockets grew wide as the canister whipped towards him, pulled by the forces of the CORE.

It slammed directly into his torso.

His grip loosened. Several of his arms still clung to the safety of the platform. But the smooth, boiling steel tore from his grasp.

The world was silent, as he slipped free from his anchor to this world.

His gaze landed on the canister before him, seconds before it whipped by him.

The label for Solution Sigma was unmistakable.

His gaze rose to Sans, the beast staring back at him as he managed to keep a firm position on the platform atop the control room. His claws remained fixed into the steel.

Gaster stared at him, as he grew smaller, and smaller. He stared at him as the heat of the CORE burned into his back.

Gaster stared at Sans.

…

  Gaster focused.

    Papyrus hadn’t felt anything else like it.

 He’d felt a lot of things in this room. Fear, pride, sadness, excitement - anger, even.

 Too many things, he decided, for this little place.

 But being pulled at by a strange, imploding force of an undefinable nature had left him lost for words.

The pulling forces were slowly subsiding around him. He was unsure how long the four of them had been sheltering against the pull of the CORE, but it had felt like forever.

Alphys later told him it had only been a few minutes. But he’d felt so concerned, staring out at the CORE itself. He’d stared at the CORE itself, watching one person vanish into it - and only one.

He remembered the terror he’d felt as he watched Gaster shove his brother off his feet - and the clang he’d heard from up above. He remembered the terror he’d felt when the plan his trio of friends had hatched was revealed to him, piece-by-piece.

… But Papyrus also remembered Sans.

He held onto that thought with as much conviction as he could muster, and he felt his bones cease rattling.

He was startled out of his thoughts to hear a wheezy, breathy laugh.

Undyne had collapsed to the floor, back up against the wall next to the coolant receptacle. Alphys was slowly crawling over to her, managing to stand and stumble the rest of the way to collapse into her arms. They two held each other, tightly.

“I love it…” gasped Undyne “… when a plan actually works out.”

Papyrus chirped, standing up with what could pass as a smile. Then, he looked down at Frisk, who slowly sat up beneath his ribcage.

They clutched their phone, and looked up at him - with a smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Papyrus hesitated.

Then, he leaned down, nuzzling them gently.

< THAT WAS IMPOSSIBLY BRAVE OF YOU, FRISK. > He said, hoping the intent got through. He felt Frisk’s small arms embrace his muzzle.

A scraping sound from above stopped the quiet celebrations in their tracks.

Undyne’s smile vanished, and she slowly rose from the ground - supported by Alphys.

“Th-that came from the roof.” The lizard said.

The Blaster didn’t hesitate. He darted forward, looking at the video feed.

It had gone dead, for now. He didn’t wait for it to come back online.

Papyrus hurried towards the shattered window. He carefully stepped over the controls, the cooling heat of the CORE chamber meeting him. His forelegs rested on the bottom of the window frame, his head poking out of the Control room.

“What the HELL?! “ Undyne roared from behind him. “PAPYRUS, GET DOWN FROM THERE!”

Papyrus, with great care, twisted his head around and looked above the Control Room, to its roof. He slammed a forepaw onto the platform, managing to awkwardly pull himself up on top of the steel surface.

And there, lying motionlessly before him, was his brother.

< SANS! >

Papyrus darted forward. < SANS! SANS, ARE YOU THERE? >

The beast stirred, groggily. With a whine, Papyrus stopped to gently nudge his brother.

He looked over at his injured leg. Papyrus was almost relieved to see it - even though it looked even worse than he’d last seen it.

Seeing it injured, however, was preferable to seeing it vanish.

Papyrus wondered if that was fair of him to think.

< gr… nn >

Sans interrupted his thoughts with a groan, his eye sockets flickering blue.

< b ro? > He croaked, woozily.

Papyrus crooned softly.

< THERE NOW, BROTHER! IT’S ALRIGHT. > He looked up glancing about.

It was no wonder Sans was having trouble focusing. Sans had had little to no shelter from the forces of the CORE’s pull. If not for his weight and his claws, his brother perhaps would have gone flying into the energy ball alongside the doctor.

It had taken every bone in his body (and Alphys’ reasoning) not to blow his cover and try to help Sans during the pull. But his brother had held up against this force before - when he was slightly smaller and lighter. And he’d been capable of doing it again.

The smaller Blaster’s eyes shut, and he let out a small growl. Papyrus gave a deep sigh.

Though, not without driving himself to absolute exhaustion.

Papyrus’ gaze darted over his shoulder, taking in the CORE. The violet swirled upon it - the heat still radiating outwards in spite of the blue coolant, glowing from below.

It made him uneasy.

The larger Blaster trotted around to the other side of his brother, and quickly clamped his jaws on the blue material of his scrapped hood.

< JUST ONE MOMENT! > He said, muffled as he began to tug his brother towards the hall, back inside the facility. < I’M GETTING US OUT OF HERE. >

< nno… n… >

Papyrus’ gaze returned to Sans, blinking. His brother appeared to be trying to get up, though appeared too weak and shaken to do so. Not to mention, he seemed to have forgotten about his injured leg.

< BE CAREFUL WITH THAT! > The taller Blaster huffed, doubling his efforts to pull his brother -

when he heard a low hum in the air.

Papyrus’ spines stood on end. He glanced about, startled. Something… instinctual was pulling at him. He felt like he could hear something… garbled and high-pitched.

< w… wait… >

The taller Blaster looked down at Sans, whose eye sockets were flickering. It seemed as if he were trying to put words together, but his focus hadn’t quite returned, yet.

 < wait… he’s… this isn’t… >

   “… this isn’t…”

Undyne’s indignant glare to the ceiling faded away.

She spun to face Alphys, who was staring hard at the CORE. Sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead, as the violet reflected vividly in her glasses.

“… this isn’t right…” She mumbled, taking a step back.

A distant, static roar surrounded them all. It caused the entire facility to tremble, to rumble thunderously as the CORE itself began to pulse. Violet energy swept and churned over its surface.

“What’s happening?” Frisk asked, their voice slightly strained.

Undyne rushed up to Alphys' side.

Several arcs of violet energy were slowly rising from the sphere.

  The halls were again drenched in violet. Papyrus’ gaze darted up at the CORE, as the roar grew louder and louder around them.

< r… run. >

Papyrus’ gaze dropped to his brother, whose eye sockets had managed to reach a stable white. Sans’ gaze darted up at him, wide-eyed.

< bro, we need to - >

  A skeletal hand grabbed his foreleg from behind.

  And Sans was dragged backwards, the material ripping free of Papyrus’ jaws.

Several hands grasped his brother’s legs, his tail, his spine - a few landed on his skull.

Papyrus instinctively flinched back, seeing the CORE in its entirety. It was a deep violet, and tendrils of energy had burst from its surface. They’d exploded outwards, then curved directly to their target - led by holed hands of Gaster.

Sans gave a start, his eyelights shrinking into pinpricks of fear in his eyesockets. Then, they shut, reopening to reveal flickering, furious blue.

He planted his claws in the steel, straining against the hands. He gave a loud, furious bellow.

Papyrus’ sternum grew tight.

< YOU - >

Then, he darted forward with a howl.

< YOU LET GO!!!  >

He managed to grab Sans by his forelimb, his claws clamping on as tightly as he possibly could. Sans flinched, but didn’t protest. He pushed harder against the hands, the tendrils that swamped the CORE chamber.

Papyrus held fast, snarling as he pulled, attempting to step back and bring his brother with him.

He could hear the muffled cries of his friends beneath him.

   Cold horror gripped Frisk’s exhausted body.

 “It’s got… it’s got him.” Alphys said, staring at the video feed in horror. “It’s got Sans! He’s got Sans!”

Undyne was moving before the scientist had even finished speaking. She ran towards the shattered window, with a yell.

She grabbed a large shard of glass and threw it out the window at one of the many hands reaching out from the CORE.

“Use magic!” Frisk cried, their voice ending in a croak

“I can’t!” Undyne shouted back. “We’re still in CORE space!”

“C-Close the windows!!” Frisk’s voice almost sounded unrecognisable, even to the human themself. Their throat felt raw, their body trembling.

Alphys was scrambling at the controls, her gaze darted around the buttons. “They’re broken, Frisk!” She yelled, pointedly. “And the shutters aren’t working!”

The human child was slowly staggering to their feet, grasping their phone to their chest.

Their chest ached, their determination severed from the CORE.

“D-Do something.” They whispered.

They heard the scraping of claws overhead. They saw Sans’ back legs appear in the window, suspended by the hands.

“Do something!!” They cried, hoarsely.

“NGAAAAAH!!”

Frisk’s gaze darted to Undyne, who had ripped up one of the science benches from the floor of the room. As debris clattered from its base, she hurled it out the window with a roar.

It passed straight through the tendrils, arcing and landing straight in the coolant with a splash. She staggered through the effort, gritting her teeth in pain and the heat.

“PAPYRUS!!” She roared at the ceiling. “KEEP HOLDING ON!! I’M COMING UP THERE!!”

“No!” Alphys darted over at her. “No, you are not!! There’s too many - h-he could get you, too!”

“They can’t fight all those forever!” Undyne yelled back. “They need help!!”

“You’re NOT going up there!!” Alphys shrieked, her claws stampeding at the controls. “I have to try to - “

Frisk sank to their knees as the two yelled panicked instructions at each other.

They heard the scrape of Papyrus’ claws overhead as he was pulled along, bit by bit. He was the only one anchoring Sans.

Frisk tried to think of a way to help. Something, anything.

They took in a shaky breath, blinking away tears as they saw Sans be dragged just a little further.

They looked down at their phone. Their jetpack was broken, for certain. They were tired and dazed from the many impacts they’d suffered.

They tried to think of something.

But they could only focus on the tendrils of violet, swarming out from the CORE. They could only think about how Undyne and Alphys wouldn’t be enough. How Papyrus wouldn’t be enough.

How Frisk wouldn’t be enough.

Their determination faltered, for the briefest of moments. There was no other available help. There was nobody else to turn to.

… A moment passed.

  Their gaze dropped down to their phone, once more.

  IT’S… STRANGE HOW MUCH A SINGLE PART OF YOU CAN CAUSE SO MUCH SUFFERING.

  For a moment, Frisk was back in the True Lab. The cold, green tiles, and the haunting, buzzing voice flowing out of the phone’s speaker.

  IT’S NOT… YOU. IT DOESN’T… IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE YOU…

   Frisk’s head lifted from the phone. Their hands gripped it tightly.

 Oh.

  ISN’T IT BETTER THIS WAY?

  Frisk turned away from the CORE. They stared down the halls, in the direction that the three of them had arrived from, after escaping the CORE Underground.

Standing tall, they lifted their phone to the side of their head.

And called one last person.

 “I know you’re there.” The human said, firmly, into the speaker. “I know you can hear me.”

 There was a quiet static buzzing on the other end. But Frisk continued, nonetheless. They tried to stave off their panic - and their anger.

“You’re hiding from this.” They continued into the phone. “You’ve faced enough, and you don’t want to face anymore. I get it, now.”

They spun to look over their shoulder as Undyne lifted a second science bench over her head, throwing it towards the CORE once more. She roared with the effort, then staggered and collapsed on her hands and knees.

Frisk felt their chest ache, and they turned away.

“I know you’re scared!” They told the phone. “I get it! But it’s not better this way! Pretending that you’ve got no part in this - that you’re not responsible - isn’t going to help the people you’ve hurt!”

Something flickered in their mind, and they shut their eyes.

Frisk gritted their teeth at the long-repressed image of dust on their hands. The brief flashes of red and grey.They shut their eyes as they imagined the empty Underground, clouds of white sweeping upon it. The life and colour being swept away from everyone, and everything.

Frisk clutched their sweater. Their sweater dirtied by all elements except dust.

They took in a shuddering gasp, as they imagined the Underground as they’d truly experienced it. Full of life, colour. Full of people. Friends.

Their eyes reopened, in a firm glare, out towards the churning CORE.

“You can’t leave things like this.” They said.

There was another scraping sound from above. Frisk’s voice rose, breaking out of contemplation.

“You can’t hide from this!” They cried over the roar. “And I know you can’t fix all this! But you can change it! So please…”

There was a sudden groan of steel from above as claws were dragged several feet along. Frisk drew in a shaken breath and spun around, watching the tendrils of energy grow curved as their prey lost his grip.

And Frisk called for help.

  Papyrus could hear Undyne beating against the ceiling below, the punches growing weaker and weaker. He could hear Alphys shrieking, speaking at such a pace that Papyrus couldn’t even pick apart her words.

And he could hear Frisk.

He could hear Frisk, calling for help.

Papyrus felt himself being jerked forward, once more. His gaze returned to Sans, who was still straining, more hands grabbing onto him. He looked back up at him, eye sockets dark.

< papyrus - > he began.

And then more tendrils surged forth from the looming CORE. More hands shot forward, this time slamming into Papyrus. One pulled a leg out from under him.

The muffled cries grew louder. Papyrus slammed his back legs down, rearing back as his brother’s body cleared the platform, suspended in the air.

Papyrus summoned all the strength that he possibly could, even as he was slowly pulled forward with his brother, inch by inch, towards the vengeful CORE. He held firm, Sans digging his foreclaws onto the edge of the platform, holding on as tight as he possibly could.

He could hear screaming, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Papyrus focused through it, trying to ignore the anger and frustration that the doctor spilled forth. The violet of the CORE seemed to grow brighter and brighter - the light permeating each shadow, each nook and cranny. Staining the entire facility in its constricting hue.

Papyrus looked up in time to see a third wave of tendrils burst forth from the CORE.

He faced them directly. His jaw ached, as he held tightly to Sans’ foreleg. His limbs felt weak, and shaky.

 And then, something loud and piercing struck through the violet.

 Sans looked up at him - and then past him. His eye sockets had grown wide.

< what the - >

Something white burst out from the shattered windows behind them. Something amorphous and strange. Papyrus couldn’t place what it was - just some odd, white disc of sorts. An odd, fleshy spiral, with white, square particles flickering about it.

It was stark in the violet light.

Papyrus watched as it seemed to hesitate before the giant sphere of power. It seemed to shudder, and convulse with the force.

 Then, it seemed to compress into itself, becoming a tiny sphere, itself. It let out an electronic screech.

 And exploded into hundreds of white tendrils.

 Papyrus watched, still holding on tight to his brother, as frail, skeletal hands formed on the end of each tendril. They moved to intercept the violet ones that reached out from the CORE, grasping each one forcefully, locking fingers tightly.

The purple tendrils twitched and spasmed. Their own hands tried to loosen their grip - they tried to pull away, tried to retreat. But they only dragged the white tendrils with them.

Papyrus watched as they tugged and wrestled - but the frail, white hands remained steadfast. They began to slowly melt into the violet hands, with a green shimmer.

A scream echoed throughout Papyrus’ mind. The anger and the rage of the doctor vanished from the air around him - as did the violet.

… He realized that he’d never heard Gaster sound so afraid.

He felt himself being pulled forward, the heat of the CORE assailing him from what seemed like all directions. He felt his claws slip free of the platform.

 The last thing Papyrus saw was the surface of the CORE swirling before him, as green and violet light churned together in agony.

   Undyne let out a bellow as Sans, Papyrus and Gaster vanished into the surface of the CORE.

“NO!!”

Alphys’ claws were at her mouth, and Frisk started crawling towards the control panel.

“T-Turn it off!” They yelled. “Turn the CORE off!”

Alphys didn’t move, staring at the control panel.

“I can’t.” She croaked.

“Y-You can deactivate it!” Frisk shakily got to their feet, gritting their teeth. “You have to shut it off and - “

The scientist suddenly slammed her fists onto the controls, causing Frisk to jump. Tears were streaking down her face.

“I-It doesn’t work like - !“

There was a loud roar, and a shockwave suddenly burst forth from the CORE.

All three were knocked off their feet.

The sudden force sent Alphys, Frisk and Undyne flying across the control room. The captain collided hard into the wall with a grunt, as shards of glass clattered around her body.

 Undyne lay there, dazed.

 Her ears rang. Her vision swam, blinded temporarily by the flash of light.

She reached up to her eyepatch with a groan. It had shifted from the blast, and now her eye stung. She re-adjusted it, the red material properly concealing her damaged eye once more.

Her eye grew wide as she felt the floor rumble.

Her gaze darted to where the others were. Frisk was bubbled in an electric shield, courtesy of Alphys - and they were now sitting within it, dazed and exhausted.

The scientist herself was lying facedown on the tiles, one claw outstretched towards her spell.

It flopped to the tiles, and the shield dissolved. Frisk plopped back down on the ground with a grunt.

“Hey…” Undyne shakily pulled herself to her feet, wincing at a pain in her shoulder. “Alphys, you okay?”

The scientist groaned, still facedown.

The floor rumbled. The facility gave a loud, creaking groan as if in reply to the scientist. The three of them suddenly grew alert, looking around as the ground seemed to tremble.

“… Th-that’s the steel.” Alphys said, having lifted her head off the tiles, her eyes wide. “Th-that’s the steel support.”

Undyne felt the facility rumble, once more. Cracks began to form in the glass of the chamber. It still housed the CORE - though instead of a perfect sphere, the energy ball was beginning to resemble an oval as it shrank down, smaller and smaller.

Despite everything, Undyne found herself staring at it a moment.

“… Huh.” She said. “Never seen that, before.”

“…I-It’s starting to dissolve.” Alphys said, in wonder. “I-it’s finally shutting down.”

The colours of the CORE grew fainter and darker. The bright violet that had swirled about it moments ago was starting to fade, becoming a deep, dark black.

Before the captain could watch any longer, the facility rumbled again.

Alert once more, the captain stepped forward, picking the dazed Frisk off the floor.

“Alright, punk. We gotta go.”

The human grunted in protest as she lifted them up, starting to squirm.

“N-No! Wait!”

Undyne frowned. “Hey, hey! Listen - this place is about to come down, and you’re in no shape for running.” She looked up at Alphys, who had managed to pull herself to her feet.

“You know a good way out of here?” Undyne asked.The scientist nodded, her gaze darting down the hall.

“W-we’re on the right level.” She said, beginning to jog. Undyne hurried after, keeping a tighter hold on Frisk. “The exit - it might be locked because of breach protocol - b-but that’s nothing I can’t fix in a hurry!”

The door came into view mere moments after Alphys mentioned it - and she immediately rushed to work on the door’s side panel, sliding it open and picking at the wires within. The facility rumbled once again, and the scientist didn’t even flinch.

Undyne glanced around, frowning as she watched the cracks travel across the windows of the CORE chamber.

“C’mon, c’mon…”

She felt Frisk struggle in her grip again, and she glared down at the kid.

“Hey, knock it off! You can’t move when you’re all messed up like this!” She frowned. “You humans are pretty fragile, remember?”

Her frown vanished when she saw Frisk’s expression.

“We can’t leave them.” They croaked. “There has to be some way to save them…”

Undyne blinked, startled.

“Frisk, what’re you talking about?”

The human stared up at her, blinking in what seemed like confusion. Then, horror appeared on their features.

They suddenly grasped their head, gritting their teeth. Their small form appeared to be shaking with effort.

                               n                                                                     py   us!

“We have to save Sa   s!!” They cried, hoarsely. “We have to save Pa     r    

 The captain felt a chill.

“… What’d you say?” She asked, softly.

The human blinked, suddenly shaking with fatigue. Their hands dropped from their head.

“We… we’ve left…” They murmured.

Their eyes rolled back and they passed out, their small body growing limp in Undyne’s arms.

The captain stared hard at the human, in silence.

“U-Undyne!”

Alphys’ voice caught the captain’s attention as the steel exit door finally slid up into the ceiling. Carrying Frisk close, Undyne darted through, Alphys leading the way. The human child didn’t stir, in spite of the noise.

“Th-This way! We should be able to reach the exterior, soon!”

As Undyne ducked and weaved through broken and malfunctioning traps and defences, she felt a pang in her gut.

She felt… strange.

Hurt.

Afraid.

And for the life of her couldn’t figure out why.

It pissed her off. This whole thing bothered her in a way she couldn’t describe.

She had Alphys accounted for. Frisk, too.

That was everybody.

Undyne gave a quick glance over her shoulder, the tails of her grey eyepatch fluttering into view as she saw the CORE one last time.

… Yeah.

She turned away, her gaze drifting to the tiles passing beneath her as she ran.

 … That… had to have been everybody…

     The world fell away from Sans.

 He’d felt Papyrus’ stalwart grip on his forelimb. He’d felt the searing heat of the CORE come closer and closer to his spine - and then a bright, roaring light blinded his vision.

He felt Papyrus release him. He felt the many hands scatter off of him, as a terrified scream echoed through his mind.

He was blinded, at first. An all-encompassing heat consumed him - and then a swirling, fiery white and grey surrounded him.

He was falling.

Black streaks shot upwards around him as he plunged - to where, he didn’t know. They seemed to slash through the strange space, but not through him. It seemed like he was falling down a huge tunnel of glowing white, streaked with black.

Sans twisted around in his fall, trying to make sense of where exactly he was. But before he could put the pieces together, he caught sight of another large shape, plummeting at his own speed.

He was several feet away. His huge, lanky form was being moved about by the forces that pummelled him, but his eyesockets remained closed.

< papyrus! > Sans cried.

There was no response, and Sans did his best to swim through the air towards him as they both fell. His brother must have lost consciousness when they’d lost their footing on the ledge.

Sans’ efforts to close the distance between them were fruitless, however - he barely moved from his position, only succeeding in spinning upside down.

He focused on his brother, stubbornly trying to edge closer. But as his vision tunnelled on Papyrus, his grim expression loosened into surprise.

Sans could see the red of Papyrus’ old and tattered gloves, still wrapped around his brother’s forelegs. They’d been all that remained of his brother’s old outfit, now.

At first, Sans thought they they were finally being ripped away from the force of their fall. But a closer look made Sans’ sternum tighten in horror.

It wasn’t the material that was vanishing.

It was the colour.

The red in was being ripped away, away and upwards in red, square particles.

The process was slow - but Sans could see it clearly. The slightly warm, yellowish tint of his brother’s bones was being ripped away, leaving behind a cold, greyish white.

Sans drew in a breath.

He looked down at the tattered blue sleeve that remained on his own foreleg. It, too, was slowly losing colour. A stream of blue square particles was drifting upwards from the force of his fall.

Sans’ eye sockets went black.

Desperation drove him now, as he tried to hurl himself at his brother. To do what, Sans had no idea. Somehow, his tempered ability to resign himself to the inevitable wasn’t really kicking in.

And at that moment, something black flashed by his vision.

A swift, stretched shape, not unlike the black streaks that were currently racing by them.

Sans’ face twisted into a furious snarl.

They weren’t alone.

Of course they weren’t. Gaster was here - falling with them.

The doctor still had his many arms, several grasping at his own head and clawing at anything nearby. He seemed to be blindly darting to and fro, the forces of the fall throwing him this way and that.

He was smaller and lighter, of course.

Sans, in spite of the futility of it all, struggled again to hurl himself over to where his brother was. But he spotted Gaster, drifting over to Papyrus’ position.

He felt the flames begin to well up in his jaws as several of Gaster’s many arms lashed out onto the unconscious Blaster.

They gripped his spine and skull -

- and then, they shoved him away.

The fire died in Sans’ jaws as Papyrus came flying towards him. With a lunge, Sans clamped his jaws around his brother’s upper limb.

His gaze fell onto Gaster.

The monster was spasming. A small, black, spiderlike being twitching and tossing in the forces of the fall.

The curves of his arms were starting to droop - even to grow so formless and tarlike that they simply fell upwards, swept away from the doctor himself as he fell. The black arms were ripped away into nothingness.

His hands still grasped at his skull. Some disintegrated into dust. Others remained, though were no longer physically connected to his body. The rest of his form was a twitching, amorphous mess, trying to retain its usual shape - but failing, as the monster’s legs collapsed into each other, lost in the rest of his black mass of a torso.

Sans watched as Gaster’s bowed head rose. The hands slowly withdrew from his skull, twitching with fatigue and fear.

Their eyes met. Sans froze, as the doctor’s eye lights lost colour.

 “Jump.” He pleaded.

 Sans’ eyesockets narrowed.

He focused, as hard as he possibly could. His head throbbed, his eyesocket crackled, but the telltale flashing of blue and yellow illuminated the air.

Sans watched as the black streaks around him grew shorter and shorter, in the blinding white space. And at the same time, Gaster himself began to lengthen into an indistinct grey and black blur.

He vanished from sight, swept down into nothingness.

As the fall of the Blasters slowed, the black streaks came into focus. Sans could now see they they were rifts - thousands of them. They were all roaring, and Sans winced at their instability.

But he could see, even now, that these rifts weren’t like the ones he was used to.

The black rifts he knew had square particles spewing out of them, repelling all who saw them - except him, of course.

These ones were travelling in the opposite direction.

Sans didn’t have time to think on it too much. The weight of his brother, and the pressure of his CORE eye was causing a strain he had not felt in a long time.

He focused on a single, large rift.

The light in his eyesocket crackled. He felt something snap just above his eye, but he held focus, still holding onto Papyrus with his jaws as hard as he possibly could.

He felt the forces pull himself towards the rift, and he and his brother were sucked through.

The energy of the rifts was still unstable. Sans braced himself as he felt his already-wounded body being hit against the walls of the tunnel, energy crackling and burning both himself and Papyrus.

He felt his injured leg flare up in pain, but he let himself be carried by the forces, his eye socket squinting in focus.

He’d entered one end of a tunnel. He’d yet to see the exit. He wondered if this particular rift would even have one.

Just as he could bear the pain no longer, the blackness around him was interrupted by a pale flash of light.

A large, flickering rift of grey, pulling the two Blasters towards it.

Sans shut his eyes, as the pain finally overwhelmed him.

As he passed through the strange rift, he hit the ground, finally releasing Papyrus. He heard his brother hit the floor, his bones clattering from the force. 

Sans rolled a few times with the motion, and then he was still.

 ... At long last, everything was still.

[halloweenvalentine1997]

Autumn

I.

Autumn felt lost. She lay in a wreckage of soot, burnt houses and dolls without eyes; the wind blowing through her hair with the force of a raging god. The knowledge of what happened and what was still happening did not occur to her at first. She didn't hear the querulous sirens getting closer as they traversed the distant roads. She didn't remember the explosions, the brimstone garden, bright flashes of pain shooting up and down her nerves as she watched everything burn. Autumn was lost. And as the sirens broke the barrier she had built up around her head, she opened her eyes and blinked, but still, her vision was blurred and obscured. Two arms lifted her from the ground and a sympathetic female voice repeated over and over, You're going to be okay. Then, all at once, Autumn recognized everything. She recognized her neighborhood, but it was naught but a wasteland of smoke and fragments of houses. She recognized that there were no birds on the telephone wires, which had broke. She recognized that she was on a gurney and being put in the back of an ambulance. But when she looked down at her legs, the onslaught of pain and all its infuriating ailments flooded her body. Autumn's legs were a myriad of violet bruises and scarlet burns. The wounds screamed like a sinister serenade, lulling her into an insurmountable anguish. And she opened her eyes wider, understanding, but not accepting, what had happened.

II.

I am wrapped in ribbons of gauze and bandages. A woman is screaming in the hospital corridor, inconsolable. The nurses are trying to calm her down. Someone has died.  I myself should be screaming, but every sound has been snatched from my vocal chords by a transparent, unseen hand. Not even a whisper, a word will escape the confines of my mouth. My tongue is coated with broken glass and soot and so many, many words. Not a single member of my family and not a single friend is left to say these words to. They simply build up. Walls and walls of words and questions that threaten to erupt, but never do.

(For a moment, I was fragile. Gossamer heart and clipped wings. Everyone on fire. I wanted to scream, but could not. They always said I was a dreamer, forever lost in my reveries. But now I am the only one left, with scars on my skin and an IV secreting a drug into my vein. Hospitals are where people go to fade away. I will not fade into the silhouettes that I fear. I will not fade. I will not.)

A nurse takes my vitals and says nothing. I say nothing. The humming fluorescent lights on the ceiling, a sinister serenade, sing me to sleep. I can no longer keep my eyes open.

I wait until the nurse leaves and extract the IV, the machine cords, and feel myself beginning to fade through tunnels and portals, vortexes between worlds. The machines go off. Footsteps pound the linoleum. It's too late.

III.

The path you traipse along seems directionless. It's all gravel and wheat fields and open sky with a too-bright sun. You wonder to yourself where you are and what you're doing and if you're dreaming -

and then, there they are. Your friends. Your family. Everyone left behind to burn in the brimstone garden is suddenly standing before you with a ready embrace. And you run as fast as you can to welcome this embrace, and vanish into the light with everyone, no longer the only one.

IV.

And there she was. The IV and machine wires were disconnected from her hollow body. Autumn did it not only to escape those white walls and antiseptic lullabies, but to see them all again. She was found with a radiant smile on her face by the nurses, dead to the world but alive in a different atmosphere. And everything was forgotten, because no one was left to remember. The past was buried, new houses were built at the sight of the catastrophe, and time went on, as it always does, as it always will, and still, she exists. Swimming in placid lake waters, she catches stardust in her palms, and makes a wish for the world to unlearn war and loathing.

- June Freeland

[fizzyren]

that Prompto/Noctis sybian fic I had planned that I can’t seem to get right

warnings for noncon, drug/aphrodisiac use, overstimulation, and of course sex toys (aka a dual sybian which I want in my life, sigh)

SUMMARY: The chocobros get captured by Ardyn when they try and rescue Prompto from the Keep; Ardyn decides to share his spoils with the Empire, displaying Prompto and Noctis in the throne room.

cross posted on AO3 here

They’d been too sloppy, too distracted, too focused on making sure Prompto was okay and then figuring out how to get to the Crystal. Even Ignis had fallen under a lapse of distraction when they found Prompto, they thought they were alone. They’d fallen right into Ardyn’s trap like mice in a maze.

When Noctis and the others finally reached Prompto it was hard to focus on their surroundings anymore. Chills had taken Noctis viciously, seeing their friend strewn up in some crude crucifix. Zegnatus Keep had been cold, nothing but metal and MTs at every corner. Being so close to Prompto with metal bands tight around his wrists and waist made the other seem just as lifeless as everything else.

His anger towards Ardyn only flared when they got Prompto out of the machine, able to see the bruised and chafed wrists from where Prompto had been struggling. His eyes were tired, red, puffy from what Noctis knew was hours of crying.

And the only thing Prompto was concerned about was if Noctis was worried about him. The revolting twist of fear at what Ardyn might had been telling Prompto was sickening, he told Prompto clearly that of course he had missed him. They were friends.

Prompto’s relief at those words made Noctis feel as if he was the one who had been strapped up for hours, crying and alone with a daemon of a man.

His guard had been down, Ignis’ guard had been down, Gladio’s guard had been down. They all didn’t notice when the gate to where they had just come in slammed shut, only realizing what was happening when the vents above them began to leak an unsettling red fog.

They had run to the bars, panic beginning to burrow in their chests as their weapons failed to appear, as there seemed to be no obvious lever or hinge to work the gate up or out. Ardyn’s voice came over them, filling the room, mocking them about their sweet reunion.

The fog spilled in heavier, faster, smelling too sweet and filling their mouths with a sharp metallic taste. Prompto had been the first to collapse, already in Noctis’ arms, and then Ignis. Noctis wheezed, fought to stay awake with his racing mind but the walls and the metal bars in front of him had swirled and tunnelled away from him before he slumped over on the floor.

It felt like only a few minutes had passed, barely even half an hour before he was coming to, chained by his wrists to a hook in the wall. Gladio was leaned up against him, heavy and still unconscious. The prince had blinked the haze from his eyes and looked at Ignis and Prompto across from their cell. He then noted the two MTs guarding just outside the bars.

“Finally awake, dearest?”

The purring question made Noctis flinch, immediately trying to turn around and look at the stone wall behind him where he thought the source of the voice was before fingers took him by the chin and turned him in the right direction. Ardyn stood in front of him as if he’d been there the whole time, a pleased and unsettling brightness in his eyes that was only made worse by his smile.

“We don’t have much time until the celebration. It’s high time you all get ready for it.”

Noctis was confused, ready to ask what the hell he meant when he’d snapped and the others woke up with an unnatural jerk. Noctis pulled his head away from Ardyn’s hold, a glare taking over his shock.

Ardyn didn’t seem to mind, fixing the prince with a secretive grin before striding across the room to Ignis and Prompto.

Noctis felt his heart drop, yanking on the chain that bound him with a wavering, “no!”

Ignis had tensed up hearing Ardyn’s footsteps grow closer, but choosing to remain silent. Ardyn placed his fingers under the scarring at Ignis’ eyes with a pleased hum, muttering something Noctis couldn’t quite make out. Was it just because his blood was roaring in his ears? That his entire body sung with the promise that as soon as he was free there would be no stopping him from killing the man who had touched his friends?

Noctis fought to breathe, stomach clenching was Ardyn tapped Ignis on the cheek and turned his head away and then moved on to Prompto.

He looked just as scared and pale as Ignis did with the proximity of the chancellor. And now Noctis knew that not only Ignis had been Ardyn’s victim, but Prompto was too. Whatever had happened in the Keep…

Prompto’s whimper broke Noctis out of his increasingly degrading thoughts. Ardyn had yet to saying anything but Prompto was shaking his head, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“This is real. They’re real. I’m real,”  He muttered to Ardyn, not sounding confident, “they came for me because they care about me.”

“Not enough to get you out, however. And now, because of you pet, they’re going to suffer just as you have.” Ardyn told him smoothly, fingers brushing back Prompto’s hair in a loving gesture, “you brought them here,” no, Noctis thought, no, no, “it’s your fault.”

Noctis’ stomach rolled. And he couldn't open his mouth to tell Prompto to not listen to the chancellor. He fought to part his lips and tell Prompto to focus on him and not Ardyn.

Prompto’s shoulders had begun to tremble, bottom lip wobbling and he ducked his head in resignation, a tiny apology coming out shakily.

Ardyn left it at that, as if he was in a hurry, as if he had no more time to degrade the band of boys any further than what he’d already done now.

He turned back to Noctis, a vial appearing in his fingers, shimmering and gold. Prompto behind him had said no again, this time with more of a command, desperately as Ardyn approached.

“Open up. This will make your night go much smoother.”

The stopper at the top was pulled free with the gentle noise of stone against glass and Ardyn put a foot between Noctis’ legs, standing uncomfortably close. Noctis sneered and turned his head, still not finding himself able to speak and tell Ardyn to fuck himself.

“Would you rather suffer more?” Ardyn growled, suddenly angry and grabbing Noctis by the jaw, pressing hard enough to pry open his mouth just enough to tip the vial in, “swallow it or I’ll make sure your friends will be leaving with you in pieces.”

Even with the threat, Ardyn had to cover Noctis’ mouth, pinch his nose shut, and hold him against the wall until he had instinctively swallowed. Noctis doesn’t make it easy, wants to let Ardyn know he will never have an easy time taking advantage of him. Ever.

It’s sort of, a smudged blur after that. Ardyn’s words turn into a garbled unintelligible language after a few seconds of sitting there thinking about what Ardyn made him take. Gladio calls for him, obviously confused.

Noctis hasn’t been this relaxed and...carefree, since he was a child. Nothing outside of himself matters anymore. Warmth envelops his fingertips and toes, works up his limbs until his entire core is radiating with the comfortable temperature. He feels like he used to after being bundled under layers of thick blankets, cheeks flushed and the air trapped around him just as warm as the blood flowing through him.

Between one blink and the next, the room has changed. Gladio and Ignis are gone. Prompto and Ardyn are so far away from him, across the room that, after some lazy looking, Noctis assumes is an office.

Books line an entire wall, arranged neatly on rows of shelving and barely any space for more. There are two plush chairs in the middle of the room, facing a couch that could sit three in the same material. A low, glass-top table sits between those items and adjacent to them is a large and wooden desk.

It reminds Noctis of the office his father had, of the office he would frequently visit. However, the only thing different is Prompto leaned over the desk, arms behind him at parade rest and feet knocked apart. His clothes are missing and when Noctis blinks again, he gets a wonderfully clear view of fingers pushing into Prompto.

Another blink and yet another and Noctis is losing his grip on following what was going on. He can barely make out Prompto crying, breathless sobs punched between grunts. Ardyn is leaned over him but the massive cloak covers Noctis’ view of Prompto on the desk.

Yet another agonizing change of scenery when Noctis blinks and the chancellor is leaning over him. His lips are moving, a grin stuck there on his face as his shoulders move. Noctis isn’t aware that the moans are his own until he tries to reach down and push Ardyn away. He gets a taste of pressure around his cock and then he’s slipping back under that frustrating haze.

“Noctis- ah- fuck- Noct!” Prompto is right by his ear, waking him up from his sleep. He flinches when Prompto bumps into him hard, trying to sit back only to get a sharp ache in his chest.

His gasp is the same as Prompto’s.

There are voices all around them, idle chatter Noctis dreads because this is how the open space of the throne room sounded when there was a ball or a formal gathering back in Insomnia.

He then realizes that’s because they’re at a formal gathering, Empirical commanding officers are chatting amongst themselves in small groups, some have drinks in their hands, some are glancing at Noctis with dark looks that he can’t decipher.

Prompto moans again in front of him, and Noctis pays attention this time to the person in front of him rather than the large room they seem to be in the middle of.

Prompto’s flushed darkly, eyes shut, the pink blush reaching down to his shoulders and chest. Noctis’ mouth gets a little dry seeing dusky nipples held tightly by metal loops, pierced through the flesh there.

A small chain dangles between the two piercings and comes together at one chain. Noctis’ eyes follow it in a daze before he makes the connection that he is in a similar appearance. Though the metal doesn’t go through his nipples, simply clamped on and held tight. He blinks in disbelief, wondering how he’s not feeling that, when Prompto squeaks in front of him, head ducking down, shoulders hunched back. He squirms and Noctis leans forward, a pained gasp punched out of him.

The pain snaps everything into place so quickly Noctis feels like he’s going to throw up.

Red and white flags hang at every window in this throneroom, the Niflheim crest blazing in gold, stamped onto the fabric. MTs are stationed under each one, guns held in their hands and looking like statues. The room is lit with illuminated stones both along the floors and wall sconces. The windows are pitch black, Noctis unable to see out of them.

But the main piece of the room is himself. Both he and Prompto knelt on the unforgiving marble, straddling a sturdy frame. Noctis thinks it to be a saddle for a chocobo or spiracorn at first until he finds out that it’s much too long to be used on top of any animal and the bottom that rests on the floor is completely flat.

The prince and Prompto are facing each other, mirror images of the other and Noctis feels something unpleasant rise under his cheeks.

Prompto is barely wearing anything. The suit he has on is skin tight, covering only his legs and arms. It’s black, red accented lines going down the sides.

The suit fits against Prompto’s body perfectly, covering over his legs and his front, around his hips and then up over his sides until it loops around his neck. Prompto’s back and chest are bare, skin laid out for any to see and touch, his stomach is flexed hard from his breathing, trembling on an exhale as Prompto squirms again.

Prompto’s arms are bound behind him, ramrod straight and bound together with straps at his wrists, elbows, and just behind his shoulders.

With a bit of wiggling, Noctis discovered that he’s the same way. Further note of his range of movement finds him that straps keep his and Prompto’s knees together on either side of what they were seated on. They can’t pull away from each other at all.

He’s trying to discover why Prompto won’t stop moving when the thing under him begins to hum. It’s a soft and barely there noise but then it kicks up and it’s vibrating.

His own moan is drawn out, head ducking down as he tries to- to-

He can’t think. Nothing is making sense. He’s being shaken to his core, blunt pressure curled up inside of him and held firmly against his prostate. The vibrations travel up, touching and violating and Noctis feels like he’s being electrocuted at first.

Wetness blurs his vision, the pleasure spiking to be too much too fast and then it stops completely. Were he not chained so delicately to Prompto in front of him he would have fallen over. Prompto’s heavy against his front when he slumps, sighing.

“Welcome all,” Ardyn’s voice travels easily through the large room, Noctis can just barely make the man out to be standing near the throne on the end of the room, not up on that high tier but a few steps below it, he’s still at a vantage point for everyone present to see him, “this celebration of the fall of the Lucis line and Insomnia joys me greatly.”

“As most of you have noticed, I have brought my victory here, for all to see. I have had many doubt my truth, so,” Ardyn’s arm stretches out, a gesture to the two boys in the middle of the room, “here is my proof. The spoils of my conquest, the Prince of Lucis and his stray.”

The conversations had finally dimmed, all eyes turning to them. Noctis tried to glare at anyone who dared looking over them, hoping that maybe if he could keep them at a distance. Long enough to-

“I assure you, they are not mirages. Go ahead and touch, see for yourself that they are real.” Ardyn invites the room as a whole and Noctis’ stomach drops to the floor. This can’t be happening. This couldn’t be-

A hand creeps over the top of his shoulder, soft fingertips brushing the side of his neck. It’s a curious touch, nothing more meant by it but Noctis’ skin crawls all the same.

He tries to spit at the person touching him, to say something, anything, but words have no meaning and form in his mouth, his threats dying out into sighs and pitiful noises.

Prompto is in no better condition, if anything Noctis believes him to be worse. The gunman obviously is under the influence of some drug, not fully aware of the room around him or the weight of the situation they’re really in right now.

His body is held tensely, and the trembling that runs through him are nothing more than shivers. Prompto’s chest rises and falls with every deep breath he takes in. Noctis is almost mesmerized at how the piercings at his nipples move the chain when he breathes, wonders how new those were.

Prompto sobs suddenly, knees knocking into the machine they are knelt over, the straps holding them ends up taking Noctis’ knees with it. The thump of it sounds too loud in the room.

The vibrations have started up again, not as strong as before but Noctis is finding it harder to concentrate. Hands push through his hair, getting rougher as the seconds pass, leading to ringed fingers backhanding his cheeks.

He can only pant through it, stuck there as if some magical force has sucked all the fight out of him.

“A wonder how these two got together. I’ve heard the blonde is a marksman.” A voice behind him says, hushed.

“The prince’s royal entourage sure has caused trouble for us. The bases we’ve lost, the forces they’ve destroyed. Just four boys.” Another one replies.

Prompto moans again in front of him, hips jolting forward, barely any more give before he’s moaning louder, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut, thighs shaking. Noctis watches, captured by it, missing the chancellor somehow appearing behind him, hand firm on the back of Prompto’s neck as he guides him through the sensations.

“They’ve been sedated,” he says to no one in particular, golden eyes finding Noctis’ and then smiling, “I must insist that you all take full advantage of using them. I’m afraid these two are rather hard to break.”

Noctis is helpless to follow along. His head is pounding, his hips are aching, his cock is steadily leaking into the skintight suit and preventing him from bucking forward to gain friction. His senses only narrow down to the toy in his ass, buzzing along to the machine under him, and the hands in his hair.

Ardyn hooks his thumb into Prompto’s mouth and he gasps, trying to turn his head away slightly only to get the chancellor’s cock between his lips. From the sharp angle, only the head is able to fit into Prompto’s mouth, but Ardyn doesn’t seem to mind, thrusting against the wet tongue and cheek he can get to.

Prompto doesn’t fight it, doesn’t bite down, and when Ardyn takes the boy by the jaw, he goes pliant. Noctis realizes a bit too late that this isn’t the first time Prompto has done this with Ardyn. His fingers ached to pull a sword from his armiger and drive it hard into the men and women around him. Yet no matter how desperately he reached he couldn’t push into that liminal space, the same device Ardyn had used before rendering him useless, Noctis could hear the mechanical hum of it even in this room, above the already loud machine under his and Prompto’s legs.

He can’t dwell on it further, can’t cry or curse or struggle because someone is grabbing his jaw as well and a slap hits his cheek hard. It comes away damp and then it hits again.

Someone is talking to him from above, another slap to his cheek that brushes against his lips when he's told to open up. The heavy cock taps his lips now, precum smearing and Noctis yanks his head to the side, not caring about the pain at his scalp.

Clothes and armor is shuffled around him and Noctis’ head is ripped back up again, the vibrations between his legs get stronger and shockingly he’s cumming again.

He must have blacked out because opening his eyes he finds the room a bit emptier than it had been before. He’s still stuffed full but the vibrations have stopped yet again. Prompto’s head is on his shoulder, tears wet against his skin.

Prompto’s mumbling apologies to Noctis over and over, talking a mile a minute about how he led them there to the trap, how he should have never talked to Noctis when he was younger, how he would get Noctis and Gladio and Ignis out of here even if it killed him.

Half-asleep, Noctis leans his head on Prompto, “hey,” he tries, feeling spent and tired so his voice barely is above a whisper, “none of this is your fault, we’ll get out of here together.”

Noctis is glad that he’s awake again. Whatever he’d been drugged up with was mostly passed and Noctis can take a mental check of everything.

He’s okay. No injuries and no status affecting ailments, just a frustrating inability to move and his legs numb from how long he’s been kneeling.

He rises up on his knees higher, finding he can and whatever is inside of him pulls free.

It’s like his lungs can finally pull in the air he’s needed. He can’t hold onto Prompto, arms still bound behind him but he can lean into his shoulder and press a kiss there to try and comfort him.

Prompto seems to be recovered too, cognizant of both Noctis in front of him and their surroundings. He can’t stop squirming though, trying to get comfortable Noctis supposes.

“Gods, Noct, I still- I’m so sorry.” He says, hurt so strong in his tone.

Footsteps had begun to come close to them then and Noctis’ shoulders tensed. He finally caught Prompto’s eyes, saw the wide depth of his pupils, the glittering tears at the corners of his eyes, something viscerally sorry hidden in such a simple gaze.

“It seems these two are finally awake again,” someone says behind him, Prompto’s eyes flicker to the side before he looks at Noctis again, a quick glance that piques his curiosity as who might be behind him.

“Fools for taking more interest in the captured Crownsguard,” someone else says, fingers reach around and hold Noctis by the jaw, “this is what we’re here for, the whole reason the Empire has gone through so much trouble.”

Noctis is tired of being touched like livestock at auction and tucks his head down, just fast enough that the man behind him doesn’t have time to pull his fingers away before Noctis has bitten down hard. He tastes blood when the hand is yanked away from him, a sharp yell of pain and curses following it, the MTs closes to them jump to attention, guns pointed to both he and Prompto.

Noctis spits on the floor next to him, sharp eyes catching the man in his peripheral.

“Touch me again, I dare you.” he snarls, heart starting to race.

He doesn’t see Prompto staring at him, the slight impressed smile on his face from trying to not laugh.

“You brat-” the man sneers back, foot digging into Noctis’ fingers, pinning them between his boot and the machine he’s still seated on. Noctis winces, a startled noise coming from him when another boot lands hard between his shoulders and shoves. Something makes a dull pop and pain flares in his chest, fingers and arm suddenly loose and numb.

Prompto says something to him, worriedly trying to check him. Noctis can’t do much but lean on Prompto, shake in pain when the boots leave his skin aching. His hair is yanked on, tugging him away from Prompto and then the vibrations kick on under him.

He whines when Prompto moans, squirming against the thumb shoving past his teeth. Prompto’s no longer talking to him, babbling something he doesn’t understand to the men behind him. They’ve drawn a crowd now with the scuffle and noise. MTs are closer, edging at the small crowd of officers that still remain in the room.

The bitter heat of a cock spreads on Noctis’ tongue during his momentary daze of pain.

Noctis, with no thought to the consequences, bites down. He wanted to bite down harder, prayed to all the Astrals above that he could snap his jaws shut and castrate the man standing in front of him but at the slightest pressure of his teeth, a punch was knocked into the side of his head. Pain bloomed behind his eyes for a blinding moment, laughter was distant and far off and Noctis was coughing the bitter taste of precum off his tongue.

Hands finally took him around the waist, his knees coming free of the machine under him and the chain connecting his and Prompto’s chests severed.

A dizzying moment of weightlessness before his shoulders spiked in pain, his body weight crushing his rigid arms behind him. He gasps in pain and then stops wiggling, back arching when a hand takes the chain connecting his nipples and tugs him up. He doesn’t know how the clamps have not slipped off his skin yet, he’s sweating and moving so much and- gods it hurts. Everything hurts but he’s fought beasts and creatures bigger and scarier than this Niflheim officer.

It’s a click in his mind when he comes to the realization he’s free. Well, his legs are at least. It would take a quick knee to the man above him and then a kick to the jaw to snap his neck. Barely two seconds and then he could kick in the face of the man now fucking Prompto’s mouth.

A surge of electricity ends those thoughts immediately, the current arcing through his neck and down his spine, rendering him helpless and shivering on the floor. The officer above him chuckles, holding up a small remote to the prince.

“Enough of your struggling, boy. Behave.” He threatens, takes Noctis by the cheek and forces his head down to the floor where he can see Prompto in front of him.

The black saddled device is still on, whirring away between Prompto’s legs, shining a bit with cum along the seat, the toy that Noctis has previously been seated on softly blurred from the vibrations still.

Prompto’s head is moving now, helping the blow job go smoother. Drool and cum are wet on his chin and over his chest, a mess that Noctis wishes he would never have had too see.

It doesn't take long until the officer groans and pulls himself free of Prompto’s mouth. With one hand he takes Prompto by the hair, the other pumping himself as he tips his head back, not even looking when his cock spills cum over Prompto’s cheeks and lips. The man finishes and then eases his cock back into Prompto’s mouth, telling him to suck and clean the mess up. He sighs in satisfaction when he pulls away again, tucking his cock back into his pants.

Prompto’s head gets pushed down with a small shove, Noctis catches his eyes briefly before Prompto’s eyes are rolling back, thighs clutching onto the machine. Moans and sobs fall freely past his lips, hips pressing forward just slightly.

“As much as we like seeing you get some punishment, you should work for it.” A woman says, piping up from behind Prompto, far enough in the crowd that Nocts can’t spot her. He’s making a list, a mental list of who he’s cutting down first before he leaves the room.

Prompto's getting louder, gasps cutting over the voices talking among themselves, distracting Noctis from trying to lean off his shoulder that’s still uncomfortably loose. He watches Prompto try and rise up off the machine on his knees before a gloved hand shoves him on the shoulder and forces him down.

“Keep moving.” the man hisses, letting go to allow Prompto to struggle wobbly back to his knees and then lower again.

“Ah, fuck,” Prompto gasps again, thighs suddenly shaking hard when he next tries to bring himself up again. He accidentally sees Noctis looking at him and blushes, the hot flush spreading over his cheeks just as tears spill over.

He tries to turn his head and hide from Noctis, especially when his cock jerks and them cums onto the machine in front of him but the man with the gloves holds his head up until he’s finished, thumbs rubbing the sides of his neck and under his jaw. Prompto’s bottom lip wobbles as the machine keeps going under him, vibrations still just as strong as when he started. He tries to catch his lip between his teeth, shoulders sagging and head falling back.

Just as Noctis tries to get the man holding him down off of him, the doors to the throne room slam open, with it, the rumbling vibrations of an explosion from down the hall.

It feels like hot water scalds Noctis’ wrists and stomach when the explosion goes off. As the shock wears off, he reaches out with his mind. Watches the officers and MTs in the room look around in panic.

His Engine Blade appears in his hand, falling into his fingers with the weight of almost nothing. Between one blink and the next, the blade is dug in the stomach of whoever is behind him. He hears guns prepare to fire at him and throws himself to the side. The blade is replaced with daggers, one of which he throws to an MT, warping after it in a flash. He feels Gladio and Ignis pull their weapons from his magic and it lights a satisfied flame in his chest.

Even with one arm out of commission, Noctis makes good work of taking out three magitek troopers and four of the high commanders in the room before a bullet hits him.

The pain barely registers, a graze of hot metal across his side that he narrowly dodges with warping across the room, the adrenaline keeps him moving, flashing around the throne room.

Somewhere in the fray he’s thrown a dagger at Prompto, the edge of the blade slicing the bonds on his arms and it’s like taking the leash off a beast. His guns appear in his hands in a brilliantly blue glow. Noctis doesn’t have to watch when Prompto stands himself up and shoots off bullet after bullet until he and Noctis are the only ones standing in the room.

Noctis’ pride swells more with each bullet he feels Prompto fire off and replace, over and over until there’s no one left to cut down.

He’s reminded of their fights running across Duscae, hunting beasts for some extra spending money, skipping to Prompto for a high five or having Gladio clap him on the shoulder after a hard fight.

But when he turns to Prompto, he barely has time to smile before he sees Prompto’s knees wobble and drop out from under him. Noctis warps to him, catches Prompto before his knees can even touch the floor. The pistol in his hand disappears in a grainy blue light, not from Prompto’s letting it go, but his slip of consciousness.

Noctis can feel it now that he’s holding Prompto, the slight shake in his muscles and his shallow breathing. Noctis slips to his knees on the hard marble under him, cradling Prompto close to try and get his attention.

“Hey, hey, hey. Prom, come on I need you to help get us out of here. Don’t go to sleep yet.” He tries, voice soft while he pats a hand on Prompto’s cheek. He manages to get the other’s attention, only briefly before Prompto’s eyes grow hazy and close.

He hears footsteps running down the hallway outside, guards shouting and then being cut off and he things it’s Gladio and Ignis. Finds himself trying to get his legs under him ready to stand up with their help but deflates with his heart sinking when someone else appears in the doorway.

Ardyn stands there, looking barely winded with a horde of magitek behind him, eyes bright with anger and a cut on his cheek, oozing with black down his chin. His clothes and cloak are rumpled, hat gone and hair shoved back carelessly. Noctis has never seen the man look so disheveled.

Ardyn barely even glances at the bodies in the room, eyes boring hot on Noctis and Prompto. Something shifts on his face, a range of emotions before he’s back to his controlled self, taking steady steps towards the two boys.

“Stay back,” Noctis finds that a sword materializes in his hand subconsciously, wobbly and unable to hold it up and point at Ardyn, his good arm already holding Prompto safely. Not that it matters, Ardyn’s face twists up when he gets closer and he waves his hand once, palm glowing red pink. Noctis doesn’t know what he does but pressure builds in his dislocated shoulder and in his head behind his temples. Pulsing like an angry drumbeat, syncing to Ardyn’s boots on the marble floors, louder and louder and louder until Noctis can’t see anymore.

Once more, he finds himself passing out at the hands of this man.

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[18] Glitch in the System - Ways & Means

By E. A swan song and some hacker feelings happen.

–

Their time at the chateau quickly turned into a stream of consciousness marked not by the passing of time but by the fluctuation of touch, sense, and feeling. They woke when they woke, slept when they slept, worked when they felt restless, and stopped when the time felt right. There was no pressing schedule, no overarching timeline, and contrary to her usual modus operandi, Sombra was loving every second of it. Usually the hacker found relaxation difficult, preferring to immerse herself in schemes and projects to avoid the unbearable sense of idleness boredom evoked. For some reason being at the chateau, absent Talon’s ever-present agenda, freed her from this self-imposed obligation.

Oh, she still dreamed her dreams of power and unraveling the secrets of the world’s elite, but for a couple brief weeks she was satisfied by discovering the smaller secrets of the old mansion: getting lost in the catacombs among cold stones and ancient bottles of wine and throwing her translocator as high and far as she could in an effort to explore the spires and alcoves otherwise unreachable. It was quaint in comparison with her usual pursuits, but if there was anything Sombra had learned over the past few months, it was that mundane things often brought one the greatest amount of pleasure.

Simple things, like her slowly growing something with the spider.

That first night had broken down whatever physical barriers may have remained between them as effectively as a sledgehammer against glass. Sometimes the spider’s touch was still hesitant, still flavored by her distrust of her own ability to express her need, heralded by a slight furrow of the brows as she reminded herself what it took to cross that bridge they were still building between themselves. Other times some of that need broke past the sniper’s emotional firewall and Sombra would find herself with her back pressed suddenly against a cold chateau wall as Widow greeted her collarbone with teeth and insistence, hands roving along and under the pyjamas she resolutely refused to change out of unless they were leaving the house. Truth be told, she enjoyed the sniper’s unpredictability, even if she knew that it came from a place of pain and confusion.

Their days, while unwrote, soon gained some semblance of a pattern. Sombra always, always woke up first, but sometimes the hacker would feign sleep to allow Widowmaker the opportunity to rouse her, occasionally with a featherlight trail of kisses from the middle of her back to her ears, and more often with the press of fingers along the inside of her hips, urging her to wake. Sometimes she simply felt her staring, and would smile surreptitiously into her pillow, because she often did the same.

On that very first night together, Sombra found that she fit perfectly against Widowmaker’s shoulder, pressed against her like a puzzle piece she hadn’t even known was missing, but now that she’d found it the picture was so much clearer and so much more beautiful to behold.

After the second night, she wondered how she’d ever slept soundly before that discovery.

Sometimes, without warning, Widowmaker smiled. Not the shy half smile she reserved for casual humor or jabs at Sombra’s endless antics, but a real, true smile that spawned from whatever light she had lingering inside. Since coming to the chateau, they were still rare, but far more common than before.

They worked on the chateau together, sorting through old boxes and sweeping up debris blown in by the constant, cold wind that came in off the lake. On the third day it brought snow with it, and their day’s work became shutting windows and hanging tarps to keep the weather at bay as they continued painting, buffing, and reorganizing the place. Their first notable success was resurrecting one of the many sitting rooms, picking out the most comfortable, plush chairs to sit before the fire. Watching Widow struggle to coax warmth out of the old fireplace, Sombra thought for a moment that this cold and desolate palace of stone might, in fact, become a home some day.

Another metaphor to mull.

They each chose the tasks that suited them, but Widowmaker insisted they complete them together.

“There is no roof for you to run to,” she said, citing Sombra’s tantrum in the garden with a wry smile.

“Only because I can’t throw my translocator far enough,” the hacker laughed in response, picking up a broom. They worked side by side each day. Sombra held her breath whenever the spider left the room; smiled each time she returned, whether with a scowl at the sheer amount of work that still needed to be done or two glasses of wine and a kiss, suggesting they take a break along the terrace before the cold became too bitter for the hacker to stand. The sniper would hold her as they sipped from crystal glasses, silently charting the stars, and Sombra would pretend that her cold blue embrace kept the icy wind at bay. Despite the elements and despite the chill of the sniper’s touch, it was the middle of December in an empty chateau on the lake, and Sombra had never felt more warm in her life.

A first her feelings made her nervous, often teetering on the edge of second thoughts. Eventually, like all moments in her life where the risk of failure was outshone by the potential reward, she embraced the intensity of her situation and decided to live within it until it cooled to a manageable glow. Historically, this had worked out well for her, and the instances in which she’d been burned left her with scars to learn and grow from.

Running a finger lightly over the welts the sniper had raised along her back that afternoon, she smiled and thought that these scars might be of an altogether different nature, and that she might not mind sporting them at all.

Their voices echoed in the basement of the chateau, bouncing back on them a second after speaking and creating a cacophony that made choosing which wine to have for dinner a difficult task at best. It drove Widow to distraction, but Sombra found the whole thing amusing, and never minded hearing the spider’s words repeated by the house she owned. Widow had developed a way of saying Sombra’s name that elicited the gamut of reactions in her, from an electric spark of laughter to a heat that began in her chest and spread in spirals down her body.

“Sombra,” she’d say in the morning, sleepy and absent the dread of consciousness that colored most of her speech. The hacker would take advantage of this unburdened state, responding with kisses in an effort to help beat back the void that colored the sniper’s waking hours. It was always there; it would always be there, but she was finding a way to live with it regardless.

“Sombra!” she’d snap when she realized the hacker had replaced all of their food with awful, sugary cereal. It was the same way she’d subsequently shout her name for the next hour she spent tracking her down in a game of hide and seek, following Sombra’s muted laughter as she raced through the endless tunnels of the gigantic chateau to avoid the spider’s wrath. Eventually Widow started cheating, using her visor to find Sombra’s hiding places, but the game never became less fun.

“Sombra,” she’d sigh, shaking her head at finding Toulouse yet again making his bed within the ancient cupboards on a fresh blanket that he certainly had not dragged there himself.

“Sombra,” she’d nearly cry into her ear, flushed skin against flushed skin, bodies held together through clenched fists and insistent fingers. That she would repeat, over and over until exhausted, body curled against the hacker’s warmth as she clutched her close. Sometimes she would just breathe, chest rising and falling as her pulse slowed like a receding tide; sometimes she’d cry, from silent tears to racking wails as her body and mind fought whatever demon had decided to break free from Talon’s cage in that moment of vulnerability. Sombra never asked - she just held her, whispering the same soothing lullabies she remembered her mother imparting before she died, hoping the spider would eventually find the solace she so desperately sought.

Sombra knew that this trip to the chateau was a swan song of sorts; a final hurrah for the tentative dance they’d been doing for months, even before they’d come to Venice. It wasn’t sustainable, really - not at the pace they were running in between sleepy pre-dawn kisses and forgotten paint cans, overturned in a fit of midday passion when a passing touch ignited something much hungrier than the chateau’s need for an interior face-lift. Eventually the wild, boundless ardour, unrestrained by mission timelines, Talon’s machinations, and plans for world dominance would, necessarily, end. When it did, this dance would either shift from a fevered samba into a choreographed waltz, or it would fizzle out entirely under the pressure of a Talon operative’s daily life.

She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that this hovering reality picked away at her sometimes, usually at night when the sniper fell inexplicably into a deep and easy sleep, leaving Sombra awake, mind racing. She hadn’t ever engaged in anything of this emotional magnitude, and the intensity of their external situation heightened it to an almost desperate, frenetic pace. She was used to, and comfortable with, manipulation and bids for greater and greater power; she was not accustomed to vulnerability or gentle passing kisses as she watched the sunrise over Lake Annecy.

It was strange. It was stranger that she enjoyed it. Dismissing the endless permutations of what might happen, she chose to focus on what was happening. She’d given Widowmaker that advice once; she may as well take it herself.

Would this brief interruption of gentleness in a life otherwise ruled by brutality change her plans for the future? She doubted it, truly - there was too much in motion and too much at stake. She entertained no delusions of ‘happily ever after’ or throwing in the towel to settle down, as tempting as fresh baguettes and morning mimosas on a sunlit terrace were. This was an interlude; a precious, unexpected, and necessary interlude in what was otherwise an adrenaline-fueled race to the top. There would be more bodies, more blackmail, more manipulation, and more chaos.

This would not change what Sombra had in store for herself, Talon, and the world at large.

What it might change, though, was why.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic

[sheepydraws]

And So They Lived (5/6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hair. That’s what it was. Soft dark hair that smelled like citrus and baby powder. 

Odd felt like a fancy coffee maker, awareness dripping back into him one thought at a time. His face was buried in Elizabeth’s hair, one of his arms looped around her waist. He couldn’t feel the other one, so he assumed it was crushed between them somewhere. Pinkish-grey light filtered in around them, and eventually Odd remembered that it was a Tuesday morning and that he would have to get up at one point or another. He took a deep breath before detaching himself from Elizabeth to find out what time it was.

She stirred and then rolled over onto her back, blinking up at him sleepily. Her hair was everywhere. In her eyes, curled around her shoulders, spread over her pillow case. She stretched and Odd realized that at some point in the night she had divested herself of her bra. She smiled at him, and she looked so soft and warm that Odd felt himself leaning back towards her. He didn’t want to know what time it was. He wanted to stay like this.

Odd found himself directly over Elizabeth, their noses almost touching.

She kissed him.

It was the longest, gentlest kiss of Odd Della Robbia’s life. He might have stopped breathing in an effort to prolong it. It was worth it to feel the softness of her lips, the way she cradled the back of his head in her hand, keeping him close. Later he would be able to recall her room slowly getting brighter as the sun rose further in the sky, turning the room from grey to gold. 

Odd wasn’t sure when they stopped, just that at some point he was gazing into Elizabeth’s eyes instead of kissing her.

“I guess you should go.” She whispered.

“Yeah.”

Their lips met again, and hers slid open. Her tongue tentatively touched his, and then shied away. She broke the kiss, laughing slightly. Odd laughed too. Neither of them wanted to admit that they had no idea what they were doing—Kissing wise, or in the grand scheme.

Odd kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw. She caught his face and kissed him one last time before he slowly extracted himself. His feet took him back to his room to change and start the day, but his mind stayed with her. He went through his classes in a daze, the scent of her skin still on his. 

“Has Yumi texted you?” Ulrich asked in the hall between bio and math.

Odd checked his phone. “No. Why?”

Ulrich waved his hand in front of Odd’s face. “Hello? Anybody home? Did you not notice that she isn’t at school today?”

Odd blinked once, slowly. “Oh. Yeah. Huh. Maybe she’s sick.”

“I guess.” Ulrich looked down at his phone one more time before it exploded into vibrations and singing. He jumped and nearly dropped it, fumbling as Odd’s phone began to do the same. 

It was a group text, and they skipped math, as advised, to go meet in the woods by the manhole that hid the tunnel to the factory. Ulrich and Odd were the first ones there, and they fidgeted in the cold for a few minutes, rubbing their arms and stamping their feet to keep warm.

“You think we should block these up?” Odd asked, tapping the manhole cover with his foot. 

Ulrich shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like any kids could go down there and get into any more trouble then we did.”

Odd shuddered, suddenly glad that the supercomputer was in pieces in Jeremie’s room and not where a couple of bored kids could find it.

“Hey,” Jeremie said as he jogged up to them, “What’s going on?”

“No idea.” Ulrich scrolled back through the texts. “I guess something really good happened?”

“Hope so.” Jeremie said. 

For a split second panic slammed into Odd, but then disappeared. XANA is dead.

A few minutes later Aelita arrived. “I think it has to do with the factory.” She said, and dread pooled in Odd’s stomach again. He laughed so loudly everyone stared at him. 

“It can’t have to do with the factory.” He said, as though the were the crazy ones.

Jeremie opened his mouth, but then they heard someone running towards them, the thud thud thud of their footsteps slowly getting louder.

“You won’t believe what just happened.” Yumi said as she skidded to a halt in the clearing. “My mom just sold the factory.”

Aelita laughed. A short, normal laugh. “Really?”

Just before summer ended Yumi had finally managed to track down the deed to the factory. It had taken two trips to city hall and a lot of chatting up the secretary there, but she didn’t stop until the information was hers. Aelita had thought that it was owned by the government rather than her father, and she had been almost right. Perhaps to bury their tracks, perhaps because it was easier, the deed for the factory, or, more accurately, the land it stood on, was owned by the school board. They had either forgotten about it or been made to, but Yumi convinced her mother to send them an e-mail, stressing how dangerous it was to have an abandoned factory, probably full of rusty metal and asbestos, so near a school. Someone might be prompted to sue someday. The board had e-mailed her back, asking her opinion on the matter as a real estate agent and concerned parent. Her opinion had been to sell.

“Who bought it?” Jeremie asked.

“Hotel people. It’s right by the water in a pretty secluded area. They think they could make a resort out of it or something.”

“Yeah,” Odd said, “In 2025, right?”

Yumi ignored his sarcasm. “Maybe, but they said they want the factory torn down by the end of the year.”

“You’re kidding.” Jeremie said.

“They don’t exactly need a through inspection to demolish it.” Yumi said with a shrug, before noticing the shock on everyone else’s face. “What?”

“I guess I feel kind of like they’re tearing down Kadic.” Jeremie said. Odd could see that his thumb was working circles into one of the scars on his wrist. “I mean, school sucks, XANA sucked, but it’s hard to imagine it just being over.”

“Well, it will be.” Yumi said, though her tone was more solemn now. “Next semester they’re gonna hand us a diploma, and shake our hands, and that’ll be it. It’ll just be over.”

No one mentioned that for Yumi it was already supposed to be over, though it was at the forefront of their minds. When XANA went nuts last year they all let school slide, and that would have been fine if not for one scheme of XANA’s that involved earthquakes. A teacher died before they even reached Lyoko, and Jeremie knew as he virtualized Odd, Ulrich, and Aelita that he wouldn’t have the heart to input Return to the Past. They had learned the hard way that the dead stayed dead, no matter what. Worse, to outsiders they just seemed to drop dead without any explanation. Everyone would say that one moment they were fine, the next dead. 

Yumi was left to deal with things at Kadic, and having so much experience with disasters she was the calmest one on campus till a shelf full of textbooks fell on her leg. As she was brought into an ambulance she never imagined that she would actually make it to the hospital. She watched the window, calmly waiting to be engulfed by white light. At least as she told it. She may have been calm because they had already given her something for the pain, and not because she had so much faith in Jeremie.

Either way she spent five full minutes cursing him out while she was still in the hospital, siting up in her bed, hooked up to two different machines. After that she refused to see him again until she could stand up and punch him in the face. Their friendship and her leg eventually recovered, but her massive absence, plus the classes she had already missed and the tests she had failed added up to the school telling her parents that they couldn’t, in good faith, let her graduate. 

Odd remembered going to visit her in the hospital with Ulrich. The door to her room had been open and they had been just about to turn into it when they heard what her mother was saying.

“I suppose you feel smart now.” She said, her tone not joking, but not accusatory either. Resigned. 

“I saved us some money.” Yumi replied. Her voice was weak, probably from yelling at Jeremie a few days earlier. 

There was a pause, but the two boys hung back.

“I’m sure there’s an idiom about this that I can’t remember. Doing something stupid, and then it turns out to be a great idea.”

“I told you I might want to take a year off after high school.”

“Might.” Her mother snapped. “I was hoping you’d get accepted somewhere, get excited about it, and run right off.” She took a deep breath which might have been meant to calm her, but it came out as a sigh. “I just didn’t want you bumming around home with those kids anymore.”

Ulrich and Odd both startled when angry Japanese began spilling out of the room. Odd had no idea if Yumi was defending them, or just cursing her mother out as badly as Jeremie.

Either way he whispered, “Why don’t I wait for you in the cafeteria.” To Ulrich and tried to bail.

Ulrich grabbed him by the wrist. “I am not facing that alone.” He said as he dragged Odd into the room with him.

“Would you have stayed behind if you hadn’t broken your leg?” Odd asked Yumi.

She looked surprised at the abrupt topic change. “I don’t know.”

“Why do you ask?” Aelita said.

Odd tried to think of a reason, because he knew there was one. There was a weight on his tongue, something both important and impossible to say. 

“I don’t know.” He managed after an eternity of being stared at. “I was just wondering.”

“Ignore him.” Ulrich said to Yumi, “He’s been weird all day. I don’t think he slept last night.”

“I slept.” Odd said.

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”

“He wasn’t in your room?” Aelita asked, the picture of innocence. As though the only time she was in Jeremie's room all night was when she had passed out over a circuit board.

“He waltzed in just before breakfast. To change his clothes.”

Odd Della Robbia was an amazing liar. Flawless. He could tell his teachers one thing, his parents another, and underclassmen a completely different tale and keep them all straight while still being believable. 

As his friends stared at him his mind went so blank he forgot how to breathe.

“He’s been doing that a lot lately.” Ulrich continued.   

“Only because you have Yumi over all the time.” Odd sputtered. 

“Not only then.”

“That’s not true.” Odd said as he shuffled through his memories. Was there a cohesive explanation for his absences? He tried to put the days together in a straight line, but he couldn’t even remember when he had first started hanging out with Elizabeth. Okay, that would be when he brought her the apology gifts. Not the day they fought each other, that didn’t really count, and he had since deleted the text she sent him that day, so he wasn’t sure where he would find the date. 

His days were a blur. He went to school every day, did his homework, and then a weekend would happen. Rinse with snarky comments swapped with his friends. Repeat. This was the first time he had skipped class in months. Not that some days he didn’t want to, but there wasn’t a reason anymore. There never seemed to be a reason to do much of everything. 

Silence settled around Odd, the kind that happens after someone asks a question and fails to get a response.

“What?” He said.

Ulrich put his hands up. “I just asked what you’d been doing.”

“The library.” Odd said, and even to him it was a pathetic lie. “I go to the library.”

“Doesn’t it close at midnight on Mondays?” Yumi asked. 

“Yup.” Jeremie said.  

Odd tried to laugh in a way that would diffuse the situation, so of course it came out off-pitch and hysterical. “You’re all acting like I’m doing drugs or something.”

Aelita, sweet, gentle Aelita, said, “We were just wondering what you’ve been doing, we’re not trying to interrogate you.” 

Was he overreacting? Oh god, did he looked guilty?

Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces: Yes.

“Are you doing drugs?” Jeremie asked, reaching for Odd tentatively. 

Odd’s mind filed with the scent of Elizabeth’s hair. He shook Jeremie off. “This isn’t an after school special.” He snapped. “There aren’t even any alleys for dealers to jump out of.” He wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a joke, but nobody laughed. 

Odd turned as though he was going to head back to school. “I have to get to math.” He said.

“She won’t let you in twenty minutes late,” Ulrich said, grabbing Odd by the arm. “We just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine!” Odd said, in the least fine way anyone has ever said those two words, and broke into a run. He wasn’t sure if he expected them to chase him or not, but he ran like a pack of wolves might be on his tail and not his friends. 

His friends for fucks sake. The best friends he’d ever had. He’d fought wars with these people, and suddenly he couldn’t even tell them about kissing a girl he liked? 

What did it matter? It wasn’t like his last name was Montegue. They wouldn’t crucify him for it. Probably. Maybe.

It wasn’t Elizabeth who was the problem, it was the fact that he had felt safer going to her than his friends. That he felt safer with her period. He’d known her the exact same amount of time, but she wasn’t tied up in all his memories of XANA, wasn’t tainted by them. She bore no scars. As far as she knew, she had never feared for her life. She was just another girl trying to make it through high school and then be an adult.

It was intoxicating. Odd couldn’t remember being that carefree. He couldn’t remember what used to scare him most before it was a few rings with some lines coming out of them. When he was with Elizabeth he didn’t worry about death, he worried about which movie they would watch, and if he would be able to make any decent jokes about it. Memories of her face screwed up in pain didn’t hang around like a dark cloud whenever he talked to her. 

He didn’t realize where he was headed till he was on the bridge. He almost stopped to laugh, but he wasn’t sure what would come out of him if he opened his mouth. It was probably a pavlovian reaction. Scared and full of adrenaline? Go to the factory. As though a solution would be there, as simple as a wash of white light. 

He pulled up short when he saw the chains. 

They crisscrossed the main entrance, which was now covered by a sheet of plywood. Odd weighed the padlock in his hand. It left grime marks on him when he dropped it. He had been thinking that the new owners put it up, but it had to have been Yumi’s mother. Of course, he could just bash the wood in, but that would be trespassing.

The earth shifted under Odd’s feet. The factory wasn’t theirs anymore.  

Time moved so fast. Odd wasn’t sure when the sun set, or how he got back on campus, or what on earth he was doing in the woods, but there he was. Spread out under a tree. He was trying to think, but he had been thinking for hours. His gaze was on the stars, but there was nothing mystical about them. They were just a tangle of shitty old christmas lights. He could see his breath and feel the cold seeping through his clothes, but he didn’t want to move. His feet hurt. He knew he had been walking this whole time, just trying to put it all together. 

He had forgotten what ‘it’ was. 

He woke to someone calling his name. He lifted his head, but then sank back down. He was groggy and aching, as though he had only slept for a few moments. He couldn’t feel his face.  His whole head could have fallen off and he wouldn’t have notice. He twitched his fingers to make sure they were still attached.

He heard his name again, louder. He considered answering, but he didn’t want to deal with it. Whoever it was was probably real pissed at him.

Elizabeth burst through a clump of bushes and nearly tripped over Odd. She didn’t fall, but she did accidentally give Odd a solid kick in the ribs. He yelped and scrambled to a sitting position.

“Odd!” She screamed. She fell to her knees and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Are you alright?” She peered into his face, trying to asses his condition in the low light.

“I’m fine. I was taking a walk.”

Elizabeth’s hands fell from his shoulders, and he immediately missed their warmth. “A walk.” She deadpanned. “For eight hours. With nothing but a sweatshirt in this weather.”

“I wasn’t cold. I was walking.”

“You were lying down!” Elizabeth took a deep breath and managed to calm down. “Odd, everyone’s been looking for you. I found your phone by the front gate and gave it to Ulrich. He got really freaked out and told me you just ran off before third period.”

“We were all skipping third period!” Odd said. “Yumi’s mom sold the factory and she dragged us out of class to tell us.”


“Yumi’s mom?” Elizabeth held up her hand and shook her head, “Wait, what factory?”

Odd stared at her. “The one across the bridge by the river.”

Silence.

“The huge abandoned one.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Is that what that is? A factory? I always kind of thought it was a gutted mall or something.”

Images of Elizabeth standing in the factory flashed through Odd’s mind. Sneaking around, screaming her head off, stepping into a scanner pod. Suddenly envy struck and burned white hot in his belly. She knew, she’d seen it, but she didn’t remember. And he had felt sorry for her. Poor Sissi, walking around in a fog, unaware of how the world really worked, cursed to always be on the cusp but never have a true grip on her reality. As though she—the thought flew through his mind before he could stop it—as though she thought her life consisted of being downloaded to a computer to fight super villains.

“What’s so important about the factory?” Elizabeth asked. 

Words clogged Odd’s throat. XANA—end of the world—my best friends—

“I’m scared.” He whispered. It was the only thing that would make sense to her.

“Of what?” Her voice was surprisingly soft. She moved her arm and for a moment Odd thought she would touch him, but she only set her hand a little closer to his.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“None of us do. Anyone who says so will have different plans within a year. That’s what my dad says.”

It was Odd’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“I mean it, he says that like eighty percent of the seniors have plans, and about half of those have big plans, and they almost all end up doing completely different things.”

“Are you talking about fucking graduation?” Odd asked, the words bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah, I-“

“This has nothing to do with graduation! I-my life-I don’t know how to live like this!” Odd was on his feet, too much energy coursing through him to remain still. “I don’t know how to live every day one after the other! I don’t know what to feel when I’m not scared! I don’t know how to be normal and not trying to save the world.” His voice caught but he talked past the lump in his throat. “I have no idea how to be around my best fucking friends because the five of us aren’t constantly ready for an attack!”

Elizabeth was standing too. “What are you talking about?!” She screamed. “What did you guys do at the factory?!”

Odd grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and shook. “I can’t tell you! I can’t! Cause even if I did-“ He began crying in ernest, “You wouldn’t believe me. And there’s nothing there to prove it. Pretty soon there won’t even be a factory. Just a bunch of people vacationing somewhere I can’t even look at without wanting to throw up.”

Elizabeth put her hands on Odd’s cheeks. “Tell me.” She said. It was an order, but it was calm, as though she knew he could do it if he just took a deep breath. 

“I can’t.” He whispered around a sob. His body was shaking and he started curling in on himself, putting him even closer to Elizabeth. He could smell oranges and lemons again, the scent made stronger by her sweat. She put only one arm around him, refusing to hug him, but she crushed him to her chest and waited out the tears. 

“Okay, I might never understand,” She said after a while. “And you might never tell me. And I guess I can live with that. But I was right. Maybe it’s not exactly the same, but I think everyone in our class has felt like that this year.”

“No.” Odd mumbled into Elizabeth’s neck, now damp with tears. 

“Let me finish. I know it’s something different for you, but it’s change right? Things have changed and you don’t know what to do, because you didn’t choose it. High school sucks, but none of us know how to be otherwise. What are we gonna do, who are we gonna be, how are we gonna live? Suddenly we all have to ask and we’re scared.” She ran her fingers through Odd’s hair, brushing out dirt and grass. “But, y’know, for me, the best change this year was hanging out with you. Whenever I was freaking out you would show up and we would talk and watch movies and cry and I’d think, ‘maybe change is good’.” Her arm drops back to her side. “For a few minutes, anyway.”

Odd stood up. His back hurt, his eyes burned and his whole face throbbed.

“I want to tell you.” He said. “I wish I could tell you. Maybe you’d say something like that and it would all make sense. But even I can’t get it to make sense long enough to say it.”

In the distance Odd heard his name. Elizabeth froze. It sounded like Ulrich.

“Ulrich still has your phone.” Elizabeth said. She was backing away from the direction of the voice. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Wait,”

“Have you thought of writing it all down? Maybe that would keep it in order.”

“Odd!” Ulrich called. It was a short bark of recognition, not the long, drawn out screams of search.

“I think he’s okay.” Elizabeth yelled back. “I was just about to text you.”

Ulrich ran up to Odd and slammed into him for a hug, spinning him around with the force of it. He started talking a mile a minute, apologizing, asking questions, hugging him tightly while also fishing out his phone so everyone would know Odd was okay. 

By the time Odd had a chance to check, Elizabeth was gone.

Part 6 

[gordonwilliamsweb]

‘On death’s doorstep’

Whether driving tanks during the Vietnam War or cruising down the highway on his Harley Davidson, Charlie Bell liked moving forward.

That is, until the day he could hardly move at all. With his lungs severely damaged by disease, he struggled even to walk across the room.

His only hope was a new set of lungs.

Fortunately, he received that gift in a transplant surgery at Spectrum Health Fred and Lena Meijer Heart Center.

He received his new lungs Nov. 10, 2018—one day before Veterans Day.

“That was a nice touch,” said Charlie, a proud Army veteran who served in Vietnam.

“I am forever grateful to the donor and the donor’s family,” he added. “When I first got through this, people would ask me what they could do for me. This was my reply: Be an organ donor.”

‘I was fortunate’

For most of his life, Charlie had no inkling that lung disease—or a transplant—lay in his future.

He grew up in Portage, Michigan, and after high school began to work at a heating and cooling company. At 19, he was drafted into the Army.

He trained at Fort Knox and Fort Carson, becoming a tank commander, and then headed to Vietnam in 1970. He stayed 11 months and five days.

He looks back with gratitude that he avoided serious injury during the war.

One day, as he led a convoy during the rainy season, a tank coming the other direction rolled over a mine. The blast sent a small shrapnel fragment into Charlie’s forehead, just above his left eye.

“I never reported it. There were just a couple of trickles of blood,” he said. “But I was fortunate. If it had been another inch lower, I would probably have lost my eye.”

After leaving the Army in 1971, Charlie moved back to Portage, where he and his wife, Krista, raised four children.

He worked at the paper mill and later for Pfizer. He got a degree in electronics and developed a specialty working with instrumentation.

His job involved fixing “anything that controls part of a machine,” he said. “I was the person you called when something didn’t work.”

After his wife’s death in 2004, Charlie returned to an old hobby—riding motorcycles.

Six years later, he met Cindy Bondurant over coffee at a Barnes and Noble store. Together, they rode his Harley throughout Michigan, to visit her family in Kansas and to Niagara Falls and upstate New York.

They loved being out in the open air, feeling close to the sights and smells of the countryside as they rode.

“There’s nothing like riding through a tunnel of trees in the fall when the leaves are changing,” Charlie said.

“You’re not just looking through a car window,” Cindy said. “You feel more a part of what you are going through.”

A wait for new lungs

For all Charlie’s mechanical aptitude and experience, there was one thing he could not fix—his lungs.

He noticed the first signs of trouble in 2013 when he developed an odd cough. A year later, he became alarmed while mowing the yard one day. He just couldn’t catch his breath.

Charlie went to his primary care doctor, who referred him to a pulmonologist. The specialist diagnosed him with pulmonary fibrosis, a disease that causes scarring in the lungs.

As the fibrosis thickened the tissue around the air sacs in his lungs, it became increasingly difficult to get oxygen to his bloodstream.

Charlie began to use supplemental oxygen at night and during physical activities. He and Cindy sold their quad-level house—where he had to climb stairs multiple times a day—and moved to an apartment on a single floor.

As his symptoms grew worse, Charlie gave up driving. He went on oxygen 24 hours a day.

“In the year before the transplant, it was a more rapid decline, to the point where he was in a wheelchair because he couldn’t walk and breathe at the same time,” Cindy said.

When he looked into a transplant, he learned one program would not accept patients older than 65. Charlie was 69.

He turned to the Spectrum Health Richard DeVos Heart and Lung Transplant Program. The transplant team does not have a firm age cut-off, but rather evaluates patients “on a case-by-case basis,” said Ryan Hadley, MD, Charlie’s pulmonologist.

“Our outcomes are good so we can take on higher-risk patients,” Dr. Hadley said.

Spectrum Health’s one-year survival rate of 98% for lung transplants is among the top five of the 74 programs in the country, according to the Scientific Registry of Transplant Recipients.

The Spectrum Health transplant team evaluated Charlie and approved him for the national registry for lung transplant in November 2018.

Just a few days later, Charlie’s health grew even worse. He called his medical team and said he had turned his home oxygen unit up as high as it would go, and still it did not deliver enough oxygen.

His doctors urged him to stay at the Spectrum Health Meijer Heart Center, where he could be on a higher oxygen level while waiting for new lungs.

“It can get to the point where your lungs are so bad you can’t exercise effectively,” Dr. Hadley said. “If your muscles start to atrophy, then you’re not a candidate for lung transplant.”

Charlie recalled the day he went to the hospital: “They told me I would be going home with a new set of lungs or I wouldn’t be going home at all.

“I got extremely lucky. I waited only two days.”

‘They’re perfect’

On a Friday afternoon, transplant coordinator Jenee Carney, RN, visited Charlie in his hospital room.

Charlie reminded her it was Veteran’s day weekend. He told her his wish for the holiday: to receive new lungs.

Just a couple of hours later, she returned to tell him the program had accepted a pair of donor lungs for him.

“He just broke down in tears,” Carney said. “He couldn’t believe it.”

Edward Murphy, MD, the surgical program director for lung transplantation, stopped by Charlie’s room that evening before surgery.

“He said, ‘Your lungs are here. I’ve seen them. They’re perfect,’” Charlie recalled.

The news sent Charlie and Cindy through a wide range of emotions: “Gratitude, happiness, terror—you go through the whole thing,” Cindy said.

“What could you do but say, ‘Thank God,’” Charlie said.

More than a year post-transplant, Charlie can measure his progress in pulmonary rehab, where he walks 20-minute stints on the treadmill.

A year ago, he couldn’t walk for 20 seconds.

He has the energy to enjoy time with Cindy and their families, which include his four children and seven grandchildren plus her two children and three grandchildren.

Recently, he walked to the park across the street to watch the grandkids play on the swings and zip down the slide.

“You have to stop and think of where I was a year ago,” he said.

Today, he said, “I can do everything I used to do before.”

Seeing Charlie’s recovery is rewarding for Dr. Hadley and the transplant team.

“Overall it’s an excellent outcome,” Dr. Hadley said. “It’s just a huge change from being on death’s doorstep to going back to a normal life.”

‘On death’s doorstep’ published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[michellelinkous]

‘On death’s doorstep’

Whether driving tanks during the Vietnam War or cruising down the highway on his Harley Davidson, Charlie Bell liked moving forward.

That is, until the day he could hardly move at all. With his lungs severely damaged by disease, he struggled even to walk across the room.

His only hope was a new set of lungs.

Fortunately, he received that gift in a transplant surgery at Spectrum Health Fred and Lena Meijer Heart Center.

He received his new lungs Nov. 10, 2018—one day before Veterans Day.

“That was a nice touch,” said Charlie, a proud Army veteran who served in Vietnam.

“I am forever grateful to the donor and the donor’s family,” he added. “When I first got through this, people would ask me what they could do for me. This was my reply: Be an organ donor.”

‘I was fortunate’

For most of his life, Charlie had no inkling that lung disease—or a transplant—lay in his future.

He grew up in Portage, Michigan, and after high school began to work at a heating and cooling company. At 19, he was drafted into the Army.

He trained at Fort Knox and Fort Carson, becoming a tank commander, and then headed to Vietnam in 1970. He stayed 11 months and five days.

He looks back with gratitude that he avoided serious injury during the war.

One day, as he led a convoy during the rainy season, a tank coming the other direction rolled over a mine. The blast sent a small shrapnel fragment into Charlie’s forehead, just above his left eye.

“I never reported it. There were just a couple of trickles of blood,” he said. “But I was fortunate. If it had been another inch lower, I would probably have lost my eye.”

After leaving the Army in 1971, Charlie moved back to Portage, where he and his wife, Krista, raised four children.

He worked at the paper mill and later for Pfizer. He got a degree in electronics and developed a specialty working with instrumentation.

His job involved fixing “anything that controls part of a machine,” he said. “I was the person you called when something didn’t work.”

After his wife’s death in 2004, Charlie returned to an old hobby—riding motorcycles.

Six years later, he met Cindy Bondurant over coffee at a Barnes and Noble store. Together, they rode his Harley throughout Michigan, to visit her family in Kansas and to Niagara Falls and upstate New York.

They loved being out in the open air, feeling close to the sights and smells of the countryside as they rode.

“There’s nothing like riding through a tunnel of trees in the fall when the leaves are changing,” Charlie said.

“You’re not just looking through a car window,” Cindy said. “You feel more a part of what you are going through.”

A wait for new lungs

For all Charlie’s mechanical aptitude and experience, there was one thing he could not fix—his lungs.

He noticed the first signs of trouble in 2013 when he developed an odd cough. A year later, he became alarmed while mowing the yard one day. He just couldn’t catch his breath.

Charlie went to his primary care doctor, who referred him to a pulmonologist. The specialist diagnosed him with pulmonary fibrosis, a disease that causes scarring in the lungs.

As the fibrosis thickened the tissue around the air sacs in his lungs, it became increasingly difficult to get oxygen to his bloodstream.

Charlie began to use supplemental oxygen at night and during physical activities. He and Cindy sold their quad-level house—where he had to climb stairs multiple times a day—and moved to an apartment on a single floor.

As his symptoms grew worse, Charlie gave up driving. He went on oxygen 24 hours a day.

“In the year before the transplant, it was a more rapid decline, to the point where he was in a wheelchair because he couldn’t walk and breathe at the same time,” Cindy said.

When he looked into a transplant, he learned one program would not accept patients older than 65. Charlie was 69.

He turned to the Spectrum Health Richard DeVos Heart and Lung Transplant Program. The transplant team does not have a firm age cut-off, but rather evaluates patients “on a case-by-case basis,” said Ryan Hadley, MD, Charlie’s pulmonologist.

“Our outcomes are good so we can take on higher-risk patients,” Dr. Hadley said.

Spectrum Health’s one-year survival rate of 98% for lung transplants is among the top five of the 74 programs in the country, according to the Scientific Registry of Transplant Recipients.

The Spectrum Health transplant team evaluated Charlie and approved him for the national registry for lung transplant in November 2018.

Just a few days later, Charlie’s health grew even worse. He called his medical team and said he had turned his home oxygen unit up as high as it would go, and still it did not deliver enough oxygen.

His doctors urged him to stay at the Spectrum Health Meijer Heart Center, where he could be on a higher oxygen level while waiting for new lungs.

“It can get to the point where your lungs are so bad you can’t exercise effectively,” Dr. Hadley said. “If your muscles start to atrophy, then you’re not a candidate for lung transplant.”

Charlie recalled the day he went to the hospital: “They told me I would be going home with a new set of lungs or I wouldn’t be going home at all.

“I got extremely lucky. I waited only two days.”

‘They’re perfect’

On a Friday afternoon, transplant coordinator Jenee Carney, RN, visited Charlie in his hospital room.

Charlie reminded her it was Veteran’s day weekend. He told her his wish for the holiday: to receive new lungs.

Just a couple of hours later, she returned to tell him the program had accepted a pair of donor lungs for him.

“He just broke down in tears,” Carney said. “He couldn’t believe it.”

Edward Murphy, MD, the surgical program director for lung transplantation, stopped by Charlie’s room that evening before surgery.

“He said, ‘Your lungs are here. I’ve seen them. They’re perfect,’” Charlie recalled.

The news sent Charlie and Cindy through a wide range of emotions: “Gratitude, happiness, terror—you go through the whole thing,” Cindy said.

“What could you do but say, ‘Thank God,’” Charlie said.

More than a year post-transplant, Charlie can measure his progress in pulmonary rehab, where he walks 20-minute stints on the treadmill.

A year ago, he couldn’t walk for 20 seconds.

He has the energy to enjoy time with Cindy and their families, which include his four children and seven grandchildren plus her two children and three grandchildren.

Recently, he walked to the park across the street to watch the grandkids play on the swings and zip down the slide.

“You have to stop and think of where I was a year ago,” he said.

Today, he said, “I can do everything I used to do before.”

Seeing Charlie’s recovery is rewarding for Dr. Hadley and the transplant team.

“Overall it’s an excellent outcome,” Dr. Hadley said. “It’s just a huge change from being on death’s doorstep to going back to a normal life.”

‘On death’s doorstep’ published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.tumblr.com/