#lv issues

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Twist sighed, eyeing the pair of skeletons waiting on his porch. “Damn it,” he said under his breath, rubbing the space between his brow-bones. He’d only just gotten his LV settled—he was not up to this right now. Simply asking them to leave wasn’t an option, so he rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and shook a cigarette out of the pack. Drawing the smoke into his thoracic cavity, he mentally braced himself and started forward, adopting his customary loose-limbed, ambling gait.

Smoke leaking from the sides of his jaw, he walked up behind Red and leaned his forearm on his head. Normally, Red would elbow him in the ribcage for that, but this time, he just scrubbed the top of his skull and ducked out from under him. His grin was friendly, but it didn’t reach his sockets. “heya, bro. ‘sup?”

Twist’s jaw twitched. So that was the game, huh? He smiled, cocking his head to the side. “Not much. Wha’ brings the two ‘a ya ta my doorstep ‘fore the sun’s up, huh?”

Red’s skeletal grin didn’t waver, but Twist could feel himself being weighed and judged. “oh, ya know. jus’ thought we’d stop by ta say ‘hey’—“ While he talked, Slim came to stand behind him and silenced him by planting his hands on Red’s shoulders. Red shot him a confused look, but Slim was focused exclusively on Twist.

The weight of Red’s judging eyelights was nothing compared to the worry and concern in Slim’s. Twist’s cheekbones grew hot, as if he’d been caught with more than his hand in the cookie jar. He swallowed but didn’t look away, instead forcing a smile as he took another long drag on his cigarette. “Well ‘heya’, then. Ya come all the way ‘ere jus’ fer that?”

Slim’s hands tightened on Red’s shoulders, but Red’s smile remained fixed and rigid. “mighta heard ya were havin’ a spider problem. any truth ta that?”

The smoke in Twist’s thoracic cavity burned. He curled his hand closed, the tips of his claws pricking his metacarpals. He rolled his head and swept past them, deciding it was time to cut this conversation short. “hey!” Red scrambled to catch up to him, shaking Slim off. “so it’s true—?”

Twist sighed, his hand on the doorknob. He looked skyward, before turning to glare at them. “If it is? So what? The fuck ‘er you two gonna do ‘bout it? Go home, mind yer own problems, yeah? I know ya don’ need ta be borrowin’ mine.”

Red started to answer, but Twist stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He only made it two steps into the room before Slim teleported directly in front of him. He swore, but Slim touched the back of his hand, looking up at him plaintively. He didn’t say anything, but Twist could feel the warmth and the concern pouring off him.

“Ah, damn it, darlin’.” Sighing, he pulled Slim in and looped an arm over his shoulders. Slim responded by embracing him fully, and Twist buried his face in Slim’s neck, the ruff of his jacket ticking his nasal aperture. “’m fine, sweetheart,” he said, speaking directly into Slim’s acoustic meatus. Slim squeezed him tight, his grip surprisingly strong. “Promise ya; ‘m fine. She ain’t gonna make it up ‘ere. Not fer long. Lady like her don’ know how ta follow the rules. She’s gonna find ‘erself back Un’erground soon ‘nough. Don’ worry ‘bout it, darlin’. An’ don’ worry ‘bout me. I c’n take care ‘a myself.”

“ya sure ‘bout that?”

Twist sighed, pulling away from Slim to glare down at Red. “Ya know, ‘m gettin’ real tired ‘a the teleportin’ trick.” Before Red could respond, Twist called down the hall. “Bro! Hey, bro—we got guests.” He speared Red and Slim with a look. “You two wanna come bargin’ in, stirrin’ things up, then you c’n stay fer breakfast. Bro!”

Red and Slim looked at each other, obviously confused. Berry appeared at the end of the hall, still in his pajamas. “Brother, what…?” He stopped, staring at the two of them with wide sockets.

Smirking, Twist clapped one hand on each of their shoulders and pushed them forward, like an offering. “We got guests!” he said, grinning forcibly. “Found ‘em on the doorstep after my run. Looks like they ain’t had breakfast yet.”

Hands on his hips, Berry glared at him. “Brother, you know you’re supposed to let me know when we have people coming over! I have no idea what I have in the fridge and the pantry still needs to be restocked after last week.” Realizing he was being rude, Berry’s sockets widened again and he took their hands, leading them away from Twist and into the small dining room. “Not that you aren’t both welcome! I’m very happy to have you here! I’m just not sure what to make for breakfast….”

“They c’n teleport ta the store if ya need anything.” Twist caught Red’s eyelight and winked.

“Papy! Don’t be absurd! They’re guests. You will be going to the store if we require anything.”

“Whatever ya wan’, little bro.”

Berry nodded his satisfaction and started to survey the pantry shelves. “You’d better wake Cash too; it’s rude of him not to come out and say hello to our guests.”

“Sure thing!” He started down the hallway, whistling quietly. He opened Cash’s door without knocking and slipped inside. He shut it quietly, but Cash sat up anyway, magic already cupped in his hand. Twist just winked at him. “Sorry ta wake ya, darlin’. Go back ta sleep. I’m jus’ gonna be sneakin’ out the back.”

Still muzzy from sleep, Cash watched him walk over to the window and shimmy it open. “twist. what the fuck?”

“Jus’ gonna be a sec’nd, sweetheart. Then I’ll be outta yer hair.” He hunched down and awkwardly clambered out and into the backyard, turning to give Cash a mocking salute when his feet were safely on the ground. Cash just stared at him, good socket squinting. “Little bro’s makin’ breakfast if ya wanna join in.”

With that, Twist tucked his hands into his pockets and went out the side gate, texting Rus once he reached the street. There was absolutely no reason he should be the only one that had to deal with concerned loved ones this morning, and Edge deserved it after abandoning him to Red and Slim. Just as he started to tuck it back into his pocket, the phone began to ring, the strains of Pink Floyd’s ‘Money’ signaling that it was Cash calling.

Twist briefly considered ignoring it, but just before it stopped ringing, he picked up. “Tex’s Taxidermy! You snuff ‘em, we stuff ‘em. How c’n I help ya?” He kept his voice cheerful and upbeat, even as his soul burned in his chest.

“twist, what the fuck?”

It was always strange, seeing things through Cash’s eyelight. Half the world came in crisp and clear. The other was completely dark, casting a strange shadow across his doubled vision. He shut his sockets and shook his head, trying—fruitlessly—to clear it. “Wha’s wrong, darlin’? I already use that one on ya? I got ‘nother one, if ya wan’—“

Cash turned his head, and Twist could see his brother’s concerned expression. Slim looked absolutely heartbroken, and Red looked pissed. Twist swallowed, tamping down the rising tide of guilt. “are you going to explain why you climbed out my window? or at least explain what the fuck you think you’re doing?”

Twist’s fingers twitched, itching for another cigarette. “’s a crime ta get some fresh air, now?”

Cash didn’t say anything, unimpressed.

Sighing, Twist scratched along his mandible. “Ain’t gonna be babysat by a pair ‘a monsters with less ‘an 5 HP between ‘em,” he said, momentarily dropping his cheery tone. “’specially when my LV’s all riled up. Safer fer them—fer everybody—if I step outside fer a bit. Get some air. Enjoy yer breakfast, yeah?”

Cash looked very deliberately at Berry, who reached for the phone. The look on his face caused Twist’s soul to plummet. “your brother wants to talk to you.”

“Tell ‘im I’ll see ‘im later.”

“tell him yourself, you fucking coward.”

Twist hung up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He could feel his sins crawling on his back. /Don’t give me that do goody-good bullshit/, the phone wailed again. And again. And again. Finally, it fell silent. Throat tight, he pulled out another cigarette and lit it, tasting smoke and tobacco. He walked without purpose or intent, just allowing his feet to carry him forward until he found himself in a small public park.

He sat at a bench and cradled his skull in his hands. How did it come to this? They’d reached the Surface. The Angel had come and freed them from their Underground prison. Things were supposed to be good up here. And they were. They had been. Mostly. Even if his LV hung over him, an ever-present threat he had no means of fighting, he’d otherwise been happy and content. Happier than he’d been in a long, long time. He dropped his hands from his skull and leaned his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined.

His phone vibrated against his hip, chirping but not ringing. A text, then. With a sigh, he dug it out, deciding that he was just going to turn the damn thing off. Then he saw the message on screen, and his marrow ran cold.

What a lovely home you have, dearie.

He could hear mana rushing through his skull, pulsing in time with the hammering of his soul. His ankle monitor vibrated against his shin in warning, and he shut his sockets, trying to settle his magic. His phone chirped again, and his hand clenched around it. His ribcage felt tight. Strained. He opened his sockets.

I just adore the window treatments. (: Your brother must have done the decorating. I know it wasn’t you.

He could very nearly hear her laughter. He opened the messenger app, his clawed fingers fumbling over the touchscreen. His hands were shaking. how’d u get this number?

A trio of dots appeared at the bottom of the screen as she typed out her response.

(: That would be telling~

The trio of dots reappeared before a new message came through.

You ought to be more cautious, dearie. Jogging can be a very dangerous hobby. Especially so early in the morning.

His cheekbone felt wet. He reached up and found magic leaking from his damaged socket. He hurriedly wiped it away, gold magic smearing across his hoodie’s sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he stood and started to pace in front of the park bench. It was tempting to let himself believe she was just trying to mess with him, but he’d have to be both blind and a good deal dumber than he actually was to miss the veiled threats in her messages.

She knew where he lived, and she knew his schedule. He’d already guessed that she was following him, but this just confirmed it. Which meant she probably knew where he worked and when Berry was alone in the house. She had his fucking phone number. That wasn’t publicly available information. It wasn’t something she could have found out just by following him either, which meant she’d managed to buy it off someone.

He ground the heel of his hand against his shattered cheekbone, smearing more mana on his sleeve. Soul pounding, he called her number. It only rang once before she picked up.

“Hello, Papyrus. Or should I call you ‘Twist’, ahuhuhu~?”

He swallowed, blinking rapidly to try to clear his vision. Looking at the world through eight eyes was more than merely disorienting—he could barely tell up from down, and he was swiftly growing nauseous. Swallowing back bile, he squeezed his sockets shut and found his voice. “Don’ worry, sweetheart. Ya won’ have ta call me anything, ‘cause this is the last time we’re gonna talk. Yer gonna tell me what the fuck ya wan’, an’ then yer gonna leave me an’ my brother—an’ the rest ‘a my friends an’ fam’ly—alone. Ya got it? So what the fuck do ya wan’? Gold? Money? A favor? Jus’ name yer price, darlin’. ‘m all ears.” He wondered if she could hear the tremor in his voice, or if he was just imagining it.

“Ahuhuhu~. You know me so well, dearie. I do love my gold….” Her clawed fingers swam into focus as she studied them. He furrowed his brows. Her claws were broken and ragged, worn down to the nail bed, and the pearlescent pink polish was old and chipped. She lifted her head and his soul roiled, his nausea reawakening.

“How much?” he rasped, trying to fight back a migraine.

She tsked softly. “Oh, dearie. You underestimate your debt. Between the cost of caring for you and your brother, the cost of your complete incompetence, and the cost of reparations…I’m afraid you can’t afford to pay it off.”

Despite his mounting illness, he laughed, though there was no humor in it. “’Reparations’? That what yer callin’ it? Tell me, sweetheart, exac’ly how much did it cost ya? Havin’ yer favorite toy run off ta Snowdin, where ya couldn’t get to ‘im? Bet that really boiled yer blood, huh? Bet it was fuckin’ humiliatin’—“

“Shut. Up.”

Tasting blood ichor, he smiled. “Nah, darlin’. I dont think I will. I ain’t yer fuckin’ toy no more, sweetheart. An’ this game yer playin’ ain’t gonna end well fer ya. I ain’t the same scared little kid that showed up on yer doorstep. Ain’t even the same monster that slipped yer leash.” Certainly not the same one that she’d repeatedly tortured and abused. “Yer walkin’ on dang’rous ground, but ‘m a nice guy so ‘m gonna give ya the chance ta tell me what ya wan’, an’ then we c’n both go our sep’rate ways, smiles all around. Whaddaya say?”

She sighed. “Empty threats, Papyrus? I expected better. We both know you don’t have the balls to kill me. Besides, you can’t even access your magic. You’re helpless.”

He could almost make sense of what he was looking at now, and he wasn’t surprised to see blue skies and green grass. Was she watching him right now? “Darlin’, think we both know I don’ need my magic ta kill, an’ I think we both know my LV’s higher’n yours now. Don’ go bitin’ off more’n you c’n chew, yeah?” She didn’t say anything. “Well, it’s been fun, sweetheart, but I gotta go. See ya ‘round—or, if yer as smart as ya think ya are, I won’t.”

He hung up and stared down at his phone for a few moments before shutting it off entirely. It had caused him more than enough grief for today. Shoving it back into his pocket, he took a deep breath and started off at a brisk walk, determined to lose anyone that might be watching. He crossed the park and started toward the human side of the city, before darting down a back alley. He took a running start and vaulted the fence that split the alleyway. On the other side, he immediately doubled back, heading toward downtown. A few more of his ‘shortcuts’, and he was in the middle of Monstertown, earning stares from the sightseeing humans that populated the main thoroughfare.

He should just kill her.

The thought echoed through his skull, punctuating every step and every beat of his soul. Even if she did name her price, he couldn’t trust her to hold to any deal they made. Killing her really was the only way to keep Berry and Cash and the others safe. It was the only option left. It would be easy too. So. Easy. She wasn’t exactly hiding from him, was she? All he had to do was find her and wrap his hands around her neck bash her head into a wall slip a blade between the plates of her exoskeleton just fuck it all and use his magic if he was quick enough it wouldn’t matter she’d be dead and they’d be free and—

The ankle monitor buzzed and he blinked, looking around to re-orient himself. He didn’t remember walking this way. His cheekbone was wet again, and there was a human child pointing at him and babbling to—her? his? their?—parent. He smiled at them, but he must not have gotten it right. The parent took their child and hurried them along, their pale features drained of blood.

Golden magic beaded from the cracks in his broken socket, streaming down his face and dripping from his chin. The ankle monitor pulsed again, and he shut his sockets, wiping more magic from his face. He couldn’t kill her, he reminded himself. If he killed her, he’d finally lose it. She was worth more than enough EXP—it would tip him over, up his LV to 18, and that would be it for him. He’d be well and truly gone.

But, of course, so would she.

He covered his sockets, trying to get control of himself. Magic ran hot through his mana lines, and his soul felt tight and constricted. His leg was bouncing, and he couldn’t keep his fingers from picking at his clothing or his shattered socket. He needed to do something. His whole being itched with it. But he couldn’t go home. Couldn’t trust himself around Cash or Slim or Red or Berry. Not now. Not like this. So he couldn’t lose himself in a project, and he couldn’t hit Edge up for a sparring match. And with Muffet—or ‘Ella’ or whatever the fuck she was calling herself—around, he couldn’t afford to take any of his special tea and lose himself until his LV finally settled.

A semi-hysterical laugh bubbled up, but he covered his mouth, holding it back. Well, there was always door number three, right?

Grillby Boris kept late hours, and he didn’t seem happy to be roused by Twist pounding on his door mid-morning. But he didn’t slam the door in Twist’s face and that was probably a good sign, right? “Heya, sweetheart. ‘m lookin’ ta blow off some steam. Ya up fer it?”

Boris eyed him, noting the gleam in his eyelight and the fresh magic crusted around his broken socket. A slow smile spread across his face, and he stepped aside, sweeping his arm wide in invitation. Twist swallowed and stepped through the doorway, preparing himself. As soon as the door clicked shut, Boris tore at his hoodie, nearly ripping it from his body. His mouth was hot and unforgiving, and his tongue seared Twist’s inner jaw, scalding his magic when it manifested.

It hurt. Boris’ hands around his wrists, bruising. Burning. He wasn’t gentle when he took him either, driving into Twist with punishing force. His cock seared his inner walls, driving the breath from his thoracic cavity. Twist didn’t complain, instead goading him into harder, harsher treatment. “That all ya got fer me?” He bit and scratched and earned more bruises, more scorch-marks. It hurt, but this wasn’t about pleasure. The rough treatment brought him back to the moment, and it drove away his unwanted thoughts.

That was really all Twist wanted from the encounter, all he expected.

When they were both spent, Twist lit a cigarette off Boris’ chest, winking when the fire elemental glared at him. “Thanks, sweetheart. Jus’ what I needed.” Boris scowled at his cheery attitude and his cheeky smile. “Sleep well, darlin’. I’ll show myself out.”

He stood, naked. He didn’t bother to wipe the spent magic from his pelvis, and he ignored the marks on his ribs, the bruises on his hips, only frowning when he saw the scorch marks around his cervical vertebrae and his wrists. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart—ain’t I told ya not ta mark me up where anybody c’n see it?”

Uncaring, Boris shrugged, lounging against the piled pillows. Twist rolled his eyelight. He probably had a scarf or something in his inventory, and his hoodie sleeves were long enough to cover the marks on his— A sharp snap drew his attention, and he turned back to Boris. “What? Ya wanna go ‘gain? Didn’t think ya had it in ya, darlin’,” he said, knowing that Boris was most certainly not up for another round.

Boris’ scowl deepened, but he shook off his annoyance. Leaning forward, he held up his hands and started signing. ‘You have a spider problem.’

Twist’s teasing grin grew frigid. “Now whaddaya know ‘bout that?”

Boris dismissed the question with a flick of his fingers. ‘I can help you with that.’

“Oh, yeah? Outta the kindness ‘a yer heart? Tha’s real sweet, darlin’, but I—“

The words his hands formed caused Twist’s soul to stutter. ‘Spend your heat with me, and I’ll take care of your spider.’ Boris smirked, revealing the teal fire at the core of his green-hued body.

Twist swallowed, then cleared his throat and started picking up his clothes. He reached for something snarky to say, something teasing. Anything that might hide how badly the offer had rattled him, but his mouth was bone-dry and the burn marks across his wrists and neck were starting to sting. He couldn’t think of anything more coherent than, “I’ll think about it.”

‘Do.’

He pulled his hoodie on and headed out. He checked the street, looking for any sign of Muffet—or anyone that looked like they were paying him any undue interest. She’d never been fond of getting her hands dirty, and she’d never had any trouble convincing other people to do it for her. He had no reason to assume things had changed now that they were on the Surface. Not seeing anything suspicious, he started down the street, wandering. His LV was finally settled, his mind was his own once again, and if he turned on his phone, he’d probably be greeted with more than few missed calls and sternly worded voice messages, but he wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.

The front door banged open with a hearty vengeance, Braise stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him before leaning back against it, clawed hands pressed to his sockets. His breathing hitched, a low whine breaking through clenched teeth before he was up and pacing through the living room, his hands in fists at his sides. His thoughts swirled in his mind, none of them sticking long enough to actually register as he paced back and forth over the worn carpet, barely avoiding the coffee table and furniture. His hands clenched and unclenched, curling into fists before loosening, his fingers twitching.

He was alone, would be alone until he sent his brother a message saying it was safe to come home. A broken chuckle hung limply in the empty air, Braise stopping mid stride to stare at his hands. His dust covered hands. Covered in gray, dripping with crimson. His mind went to static, white noise playing on a loop. The next thing he was aware of was the scalding hot water rushing down his arms, his skull, his spine, drenching his clothes, his knees aching against the hard white floor of the tub. The water burned, but the burning washed away the gritty feeling between his bones, washing away the dust and blood and sick. He was throwing up, on his hands and knees, the water beating down on the base of his spine, a pale crimson goop slowly draining away as he retched.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop, spinning and spinning, dust on his hands, blood in his mouth, eyelights gone he couldn’t see

Hands. On his body, pulling him up by his ribcage. Bring claws down, kick them away. Get out of the small room. Throw bones, pin them to the wall. Get down the stairs, into a more open area. Summon Blaster. Full shot, 70% power. Again. Throw bones, summon knife. Slash, duck, parry, fire again. Stab. Pin to the floor, punch, again, again, again. Bring knife down on soul. Bring down knife on skull. Stab hand to the floor, keep it out of the way. Go for the kill.

Go for the kill-

“Braise you fucker, look at me, listen to my voice, this isn’t you, you don’t want this, you don’t want to kill him, listen to me Braise, that’s it-” The low, soothing voice continued speaking even as Braise slowly came to his senses, his entire body trembling fiercely as a hand gripped his wrist, keeping him from plunging an already dusty bone into Honey’s soul.

Braise blinked, his grip on the bone loosening as he realized what he was looking at. Honey was underneath him, panting hard, a rip across his shirt and a pair of scratches over his face. Looking to the left, he found Fell, still holding his wrist, still talking, soothing, assuring, though his red eyelights flicked to Honey ever so often. Braise looked back down, his mind halting as he found Stretch’s hand, pinned to the floor and leaking marrow through various cracks. He stared at it, bile slowly rising in his throat, horror roiling in his soul, until he screamed, ripping away from Fell, throwing himself off of Honey and backing away from them both, all but scrambling backwards as he kept screaming.

He was sobbing, voice hoarse as he shoved himself into the corner of the room, unable to flee, unable to move as he broke down. His hands clenched the sides of his head as his voice tore his throat to shreds, until finally he ran out of air. Curling onto his side, he tucked his skull into his shoulder, his sobs becoming more and more broken as he lost the energy to keep going.

Eventually his cries were reduced to small hiccups, even as he tucked further into himself. The other two would have left by now, Honey would have been scared out of his mind, they’d never want to be around him again, he’d hurt him, he’d almost killed him-

Braise startled as two pairs of hands tentatively took hold of his shoulders, gently pulling him up and into a pair of warm embraces, his tears starting back up as Honey began to lowly hum, rocking him back and forward. Fell held him just as tightly, projecting a calm, firm magic. Slowly the dark, murky thoughts swimming around in his head were silenced, his sockets slowly closing as he drifted off. He was safe, they had him.