UStuck RP: The Dark Arts and Crafts

Lorcan frowned, and gestured to his apartment. The cracked paint on the walls, the rusted radiator, the dust. "You didn't think I live like this because I want to, right? Time magic is volatile, it leaks out even if I'm not doing a working. Living beings aren't affected, though. Don't worry about it."

 

Time magic? Uh oh. Necromancy wasn’t time magic. “Hypothetically, would your magic work on an object that was haunted by a ghost, and if so, what would happen?”

Greg then wondered if humans were merely ghosts possessing meat suits, before remembering the potential catastrophe in the making.

 

Lorcan stared at the kid. Then he whipped his head back to the kitchen. "Someone!" he shouted. There was a loud crash and a sloshing noise as one of the things upended the pot onto the kitchen floor. A puddle of coffee inched its way into view. Yup. That stain was just never coming out. It wasn't like he was getting his deposit back anyways.

A sudden chill swept the apartment. The lights flickered and Lorcan heard a grunt from Frank. Then the power cut out completely, and all the lamps screamed.

A shape floated into the living room, glitter falling from it like evil fairy dust. Its tiny hands gripped what appeared to be the entirety of Lorcan's cutlery drawer, possibly to compensate for the fact the only knives Lorcan owned were disposable plastic. And shit like this was why.

He glanced over at Greg. "Hypothetically? That."

 

Greg paled as he stared at the abomination turned monstrosity. “You might want to know that someone at Tea and Charmalade has been calling you a necromancer. It seems, given that hypothetical situation, that you and ghosts should never be together. That person could cause problems.”

 

"I think we have bigger problems at the moment." Lorcan inched towards the side table. He'd need Vulk's help if there was an angry ghost gunning for him. It had probably been his brother Vaughn anyways. Just because he wanted to believe Lorcan was still seventeen and in his necro phrase... "Right now we need to get out of here."

 

“Seems like a good idea.” Greg said, grabbing his cookie tin of stickers from his backpack for ease of access while trying to think up a good formation for preventing haunted dolls from leaving a room. “Any idea where to, or just away?”

 

"Step one is leading it out of the apartment. I've got a storage locker that might have something. Tea and Charmalade, maybe."

 

“Lead on. Hopefully it follows us. I’m pretty sure I’ll get grounded if I let a possessed haunted abomination loose on a city.”

 

Lorcan was surprised the doll hadn't done anything yet. They'd been spending ages planning how to stop it and it still hadn't attacked. Maybe that was the point. It knew what they were planning.

"Hey, Strawberry Shortcake!" he shouted at the doll. "Did you like the coffee?"

Terry the throw rug tossed him his emergency pack. He scooped up Vulk and started towards the apartment door, which Doris had helpfully opened.

"Lock up, okay?" Lorcan shouted to the things as he ran out, dragging Greg towards the stairs. Ghosts were like fire; you didn't want to get stuck in an elevator around either.

 

Greg gaped as the rug threw a pack to Mr. Verdigris, who had grabbed the lamp that he insisted hadn't moved. It wasn't until Mr. Verdigris had dragged him through the door that Greg remembered that there were more pressing matters than furniture that moved on its own. He fumbled with his cookie tin trying to find a good sticker to use. Maybe he had a stop sign sticker left that hadn't been used in one of the wards the abomination had destroyed earlier in the week. Greg sighed as he pulled out the only two stickers he could immediately think of a use for. A one way sticker, and a speed limit 70. A haunted possessed abomination going 70 mph seemed like a bad idea, so one way sticker it was. He slapped it onto the door to the stairs after Mr. Verdigris pulled him through, making it so that the door no longer let anything in so the doll couldn't follow them. He turned to Mr. Verdigris while they ran down the stairs.

“Where to from here? Is it far? I vote we don't split up. That never ends well.”

 

"Not far. Just in the basement."

The basement was quite large, and sectioned off by large chainlink fences. Each resident had their own locker, about five feet by five of boxes, old furniture, and the like. Lorcan led Greg over to one cage with a heavy padlock and a handmade sign that said, "WARNING: THIS STORAGE UNIT PROTECTED BY FLESH-EATING BEETLES. YEP, BEETLES. THEY WILL EAT YOUR FACE. NO LIE."

He shrugged as he unlocked the door. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Lorcan's locker was pretty well-organized, all things considered. It had to be; this was where he kept all the supplies his time magic might otherwise spoil. He'd invested in a full-size shelf to keep everything within easy reach, and there was even a table, armchair, and tiny gas-powered generator in case he needed to hunker down with something complicated. Lorcan set Vulk on the table and grabbed for his laptop and cellphone. It had been a while since he'd last had to deal with an angry ghost. Hopefully he still had those tutorials bookmarked.

He stiffened as he heard something. A ding, followed by the smooth sliding sound of elevator doors. A sudden, icy draft. Wonderful. Lorcan sighed and gestured for Greg to step inside the cage. "New plan. Can you do wards? Because I think we're going to need them if Plan A fails." Plan A was a large bag of supermarket-brand dried rice. Magic was weird, okay?

 

Wards? Greg nodded. He could do wards. When crazy dolls don't spend all night methodically breaking the temporary wards in his room, he was fairly decent at them. He looked through his collection of available stickers, trying to figure out what he could work with. That speed limit 70 one, a couple more one ways, a do not enter, a “here there be dragons” sticker he really needed to put in a safe place, a couple princess Elsa's, an Olaf, a cute puppy, a glitter crying emoji, a sticker saying “pretty princess”…

He really needed to buy his own stickers instead of using the ones his mom bought for Kitty.

Back to wards. While making a do not enter ward over the entrance of the locker to prevent abomination from coming in would work, that would effectively lock him and Mr. Verdigris inside a cage, and leave the abomination free to attempt world domination, or whatever it is glittery haunted possessed dolls want to do besides stab innocent older brothers. So the do not enter sticker was out. Maybe he could use a couple of the one way stickers, and try and get the doll stuck so it wouldn't be able to move.

Greg looked around the locker to see what he had to work with to make his ward. Stickers and chainlink didn't really go well together. He could use the sign. Hopefully who ever made it hadn't worked really hard on it. Or wouldn't mind it getting vandalized in the name of ghost hunting. Or whatever it was they were doing. It seemed more like the doll was Greg hunting than he was ghost hunting.

On the bright side, at least they had a plan A. Half the time on his and Kitty's adventures, they didn't have a plan A.

 

Lorcan bit through the bag with his teeth. "Set up the laptop," he told Vulk. "I don't know how much time this will buy us."

Vulk flipped open the laptop with his power cord. "No sweat." Lorcan heard him tapping keys in the background. For all of Vulk's faults (and lack of fingers) he was a weirdly good typist.

Dead things liked counting. You could stop a vampire in their tracks with a bag of marbles if you knew the trick. In Denmark, they kept ghosts from rising from their graves by scattering enough flax seeds to keep them counting until morning. Of course, he didn't have flax seeds. He had rice. You worked with what you had.

He tossed the rice out through the links in the fence. Ideally, the ghost would start sorting through each grain of rice until it had counted them all. The bag Lorcan had was well over a hundred thousand grains. It ought to keep it busy.

The ghost didn't count the rice. It didn't even look down. Maybe he had needed flax seed after all. "I swear that usually works," he told Greg.

 

Greg looked at the giant mess on the floor, and at the abomination, ignoring for the moment the talking lava lamp. Granted, he wasn't an expert in necromancy, or time magic, or even magic, but the mess on the ground didn't really seem like it was something that made sense. How would a mess stop a ghost? It didn't seem like a ward, plus he had been asked about his ability to ward. Were ghosts supposed to be allergic?

While pondering what exactly the mess was supposed to do to stop the abomination and watching it to see how close it was getting, Greg absentmindedly began to create his ward. Several one way stickers, to stop the abomination from moving once it got to the board, should buy them some time. At the very least, it might buy him time to make a better ward. Did he have his teleportation stickers?

Greg put the board up at the door, before turning to Mr. Verdigris and the now typing lava lamp. After this was dealt with, he really needed to ask how the lava lamp appeared sentient. He looked at the rest of his stickers, to see if he had a teleportation one when he noticed a one way sticker. Odd, he thought he had only counted four. Did he miscount? That would be convenient to stick with his teleportation sticker. As he shuffled through his stickers, he began to get slightly worried.

He didn't see the 70 mph sticker.

That meant…

Before he could turn around and attempt to fix the ward he had put up, he heard a giant boom. There was really only one response to that.

“Oops.”

 

"Oops". Oops.

There was a GODDAMN HOLE in the middle of the basement wall. Not a huge hole, granted, but--it was a goddamn hole. Lorcan had made mistakes with his magic before. Many many mistakes. Forgetting to check if the doll he was aging carried a vengeful ghost was, admittedly, a blunder...but this kid. This fucking kid.

And he did it all with stickers. How did that even begin to work.

Leaving had suddenly become a lot more important. Not just to chase the doll down, but to make sure none of his nosy neighbors decided to pin this mess on him. Oh, who was he kidding? Between the time he'd accidentally peeled off all the wallpaper in a three-floor radius, the bedsheet that had gained sentience on Halloween and decided to go trick-or-treating, and the fact that the building's pipes still wept with the voices of the remorseful dead whenever the moon turned full on a Friday, everyone had learned long ago to blame the weird stuff on Lorcan.

"Okay, that...fucking happened," he said, eyes screwed shut in irritation. "You have any idea where the thing went?" If he were a ghost that had just gotten punched through a brick wall (and not in the intangible way), he'd probably think twice about another frontal assault. Which meant they'd have to track the thing down...somehow. The only tracker Lorcan could think of asking for help was Aunt Mercy and that was--dicey. He'd have to ask his mom first.

Hopefully Greg could do something to fix this mess before it came to that.

 

Greg just stared at the hole in the wall. Maybe his mother was right, and Kitty wasn't the only person in the family whose accidents were...well, off the scale. Well, it was Kitty's doll, so maybe he could still pin this on her.

He was so getting yelled at when this was over. And probably going to have to buy Kitty a new doll.

“Well, pretty sure just that direction, at 70 mph until it gets far enough away that the ward loses effect and it starts losing momentum. As for any other tracking? Well, I didn't manage to get a paired sticker on it, and usually my partner in crime can stickyhand a tracker on something at a moment's notice. And maybe she could track this, but I'm pretty sure she'll be upset and possibly take the abominations side just because I took her doll without permission.”

With the way Mr. Verdigris was looking, he felt this probably wasn't a good time to say at least it wasn't the here there be dragons sticker.

Might want to not mention that he had that sticker. After all, he can't be yelled at for having that sticker unless someone else knows.

 

"Right." Why did all of Lorcan's teachers have to be right about how useful their subjects would be in the real world? If a haunted doll was flying through the air at 70 mph, and Lorcan could run 5 blocks before getting winded... Even without doing the math, that was a hell of a head start for the thing.

Aunt Mercy it was. "Let's head to Tea and Charmalade. I might know someone who can track it. Also, food. I'm starving."

 

The bell above the entrance to Tea n’ Charmalade jangled as Aki burst through with a torrent of rain following closely behind. Stupid thunderstorms, coming out of nowhere when the weathermen had expressly promised clear skies all day. Shaking like a wet dog and tracking about as many puddles on the hardwood floor, Aki made a beeline for the counter.

“Afternoon, Aki,” said the woman behind the counter in a voice that sounded about as sunny as the day outside no longer was. “What’ll it be today?”

“Hey, Farina. Lamb curry and female pronouns, please,” Aki replied, digging in her bag for her wallet. “And maybe a towel?”

“No problem! As usual, the curry is free, and the pronouns will be nine dollars. I’ll grab you the towel when Paola gets back from break.”

Aki groaned good-naturedly at Farina’s wink. “You’re killing me, Smalls! Is that why you’re up here behind the counter for once? Taking advantage of a lull in the kitchen to torment upstanding, innocent citizens such as myself? For shame!”

“Upstanding, I’ll give you, since you haven’t sat down since you’ve been here, but innocent?” Farina snorted indelicately. “I’d believe it of my own children before I believed it of you, and if you knew half of what they get up to…”

“Oh! Speaking of mischief, any idea what’s gotten into your bell? Did you get a new one?”

“What? Oh, the jangling! No, Aislin’s just been on a Poe kick lately. I think she’s trying something new with it, but I’m not sure what. Anyway, have a seat, and I’ll call you when the curry’s ready.”

“Thanks,” said Aki, already turning to try to find a seat in the mess of people crowding the café. Plopping down in one of the two remaining empty tables, she opened her bag and started digging through for her equipment. Blast. She’d left her most up to date notebook at home. At least the older one still had a few pages in it.

Aki closed her eyes and began to perform the summoning that was second nature by now.

Ah, Aki the voice reverberated through her head. You’re dripping on my eye.

“Sorry, Seth. Spring shower, you know how it goes. Had to prevent the working from washing away, didn’t have time to get under cover.”

You did seal the ritual though, correct?

“Worrywart. I have done this before, you know.”

Just checking. You remember that time in West—

“Are you ever going to let that one go?” Aki stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, I’m too hungry to argue with you. We can do the post mortem once the food gets here.”

After you eat, please. I don’t feel like watching you begin the digestive process at the moment.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way…” And with a wave of her hand, Aki desummoned her familiar, ignoring Seth’s sputters as she did so. It was probably time to go get her curry anyway

 

"I still maintain this is your fault," Lorcan said as they neared the restaurant. Rain was the worst. His good clothes were soaked and his hair was more of a mess than usual. He didn't blame the kid for the storm itself (yet, anyways--who knew what those stickers were capable of?) but there's no way he would have left the apartment without Doris if he hadn't had to run from an angry ghost.

"It's kind of yours, too," Vulk said.

"Is not."

"Fifty-fifty."

"I'm taking away your TV privileges."

"I'm being silenced! The Man is stifling the truth!" Vulk shouted, and wow was it a good thing the rain had driven everyone inside.

Lorcan stepped up to the door. "If you could be silent a little bit longer? I don't want to make a scene. That goes for you, too," he told Greg, pushing the door open.

Then a bird tried to divebomb his face.

"Gasp!" Vulk cried. "Hitchcock was right!" Lorcan had to deposit him on a nearby table quick before the thing's beak cracked anything.

No, he realized. It wasn't a bird. It was a raven. That made sense. He really should have expected something like this when the door jangled instead of rang. If nearly two decades of living with Aislin had taught him anything it was that weird sounds always ended in disaster. Goddamn older sisters and their doom omens.

"Dammit, Aislin!" he snapped. "This shit is not funny!" He slammed the door the second the bird flew back outside. Then he took stock of the situation because wow, was it a bad thing the rain had driven everyone inside. White-streaked hair, wet and dripping? Black feathers sticking to his soaked skin? Yelling incoherently to no one? Yeah, Lorcan thought. He didn't come across like a creepy weirdo at all.

Lorcan glanced across the restaurant to the woman behind the counter, whose careful hands were currently clasped together on the wooden surface, and whose knowing eyes had landed squarely on the kid he'd had dragged inside. Lorcan cleared his throat. "Hi, mom."

 

Aki had almost reached the counter when a puddle of water and feathers barged into the door and straight into the counter. Ah. That would be a not yet on the curry then.