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A creature of green tentacles sat in the middle of the void, The Black, his home, what his home has always been. Lately, his brothers have been getting on his nerves, but that was not too uncommon for The Lords in Black. Pokotho was dead set on starting another musical apocalypse (which would ruin a timeline that Wiggly wanted,) Bliklotep never did anything useful and was obsessed with the Woodward family, T’noy Karaxis was childish and obsessed with the Spankoffski family, and Nibblenephim wanted to eat everything in sight! Wiggog Y’Wrath, The King in Black, was done with its brothers’ behavior. Their stupid arachnid of a sister didn’t help either, she was gentle, kind, and caring, and wanted to help humanity, why would she care for them? They’re all just worthless ants that Wiggog and his brothers loved to dismember and watch squirm, but Webbine cared for them, loved them, treated them as one of her own — like her children. It made Wiggog sick. It was grumbling and pouting when he felt a presence behind him. It was not his servant, who’s presence felt strong and easily controlled, nor Pokotho, who’s presence felt like a melody, or even T’noy Karaxis, who’s presence was always loud and chaotic. It was serene, and bright. Wiggog mumbled profanities under his breath; knowing what was coming. “Hello, Wiggog,” she greeted, “how have things been in this realm?”
Wiggly sighed deeply. Why did she act like she cared? To her, it was better over in The White. Wiggly wouldn’t know, since he and his brothers couldn’t even go there — it being protected with a barrier made from her magic, a web weaved from all that is light and good, and sure, Wiggly had tried once, (he had reached a tentacle towards the light; through the web. It burned, how his flesh sizzled and hissed and seared,) Wiggly shivered at the memory. He wasn’t used to feeling pain, but when he did, it was just as intense as any human could feel, if not worse because of his cosmic form, a deep, intense stabbing sensation. Webby tilted her head; noticing his thoughts, a gesture that Wiggly had to scoff at, he knew his family could read him like a book, but this creature was not his family, she was a traitor, a betrayer of their trust, an enemy, a being like that had no place in his home. Webby made itself at home in the Black, weaving a throne where hers use to be before it was destroyed. It was white and made entirely out of spiderwebs, with some cracks littering it, it looked almost like marble (if you didn’t stand too close to see the imperfections) Webby slowly sank down onto the throne, crossing one of her legs over the other. Wiggly shifted from true form to human form, a mass of tentacles becoming a tall figure with green hair; dressed in a green suit and nice sparkly dress pants. “Hello, Webbine,” he spat her name like it was poisonous. It didn’t taste right on his tongue. “It’s certainly been hectic, but it’s only natural.” Wiggly explained, looking around at the void that is its home. “Pokotho’s been trying to start another apotheosis, Bliklotep spends all day watching the Woodwards.” Webby seemed to freeze at the mention of that family, getting a sad look on her face. Wiggly remembered it was because it looked after Alice Woodward when she was young, but Wiggly ignored it and kept talking. “T’noy has been running around, yelling about his puzzles and his toys.” Webby’s frown deepened even more at the mention of the Spankoffskis, Wiggly continued. “And Nibblenephim is obsessed with that Stephie girl,” he paused, “and my prophet.” Webby sighed; pinching the bridge of her nose. “They never change, those four.” She muttered under her breath, slowly turning her head to face Wiggly with a ghost of a smile, Wiggly studied her face for a while, searching for any semblance of judgement or penalty, but all he found was care, patience, and sisterly love, (what a disgusting emotion.) Webby traced her fingertips over the spiderwebs on her hands, almost like a nervous habit. Wiggly continued to look over her features, the pale skin of her face was dusted lightly in dark, freckle-like specks, its white dress covered her shoulders, and the train of the dress was long; now bunched up in the chair. Wiggly stared at her, then, hesitantly, carefully, he spoke. “How has it been over there?”
Webby paused for a moment, she hadn’t expected the sudden pleasantries from him. “Oh, it’s been wonderful.” Webby exclaimed. “I’ve seen some new souls come through.” It smiled sadly, Wiggly’s frown slowly shifted to a grin, he crossed his arms and waited for a minute before answering. “And who, pray tell, may that be, Webbine?” Webby lowered her head; she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall all of them. “Richard Lipschitz, Ruth Fleming…” Webby trailed off, trying to think of the others. “Alice Woodward, from some timeline.” She sighed; shaking her head. Wiggly knew that death was Pokotho’s fault. Pokotho was hungry for power, but not like he was. Pokotho was uncompromising, he wanted to be the only one to be heard, the loudest, the most adored. Wiggly wanted to be heard, yes, but he wanted other voices to be heard too. As much as his brothers pissed him off, it was important that they stick together. Webby tilted her head again. “What do you want, dear one?” She asked. Wiggly grumbled angrily, crossing his arms again — she betrayed them and she cared about how he felt? She cared about what he wanted? She cared about him in general? She cared about a creature she left to rot? Webby frowned. Wiggly grinned. “Why do you care, traitor?” He yelled the word, making Webby flinch. “I may not be like you, brother, but I can assure you, I am no traitor.” Webby snapped. “If you knew me, you would see that.” She closed its eyes, Wiggly took a deep breath and turned his head, looking away from her. “You are no sister of mine, Webbine Y’Weave.” His words made Webby frown. “You are still my brother, Wiggog. Webby murmured. “No matter what happens, you are my family.”
She got up; her white dress swaying with a breeze that wasn’t truly there, she took his hands in hers, his hands were tinted green, his nails were sharp and painted dark green. Webby’s hands were pale, warm, and covered in spiderwebs; white webs, like the ones it weaved. Wiggly’s skin burned with the sheer power of her light. “Why are you doing this to me?” He asked, flinching away from her touch as he looked anywhere but her. “Wiggog Y’Wrath,” Webby started. “I’m sorry this hurts you, but sometimes, the pain is worth what it gives us.” Webby smiled, Wiggly grunted as his skin crackled beneath her fingertips. “And right now, we need to handle this like mature creatures and talk.” She added, making Wiggly laugh. “Ehehe-he!” His laugh was like a frogs croak, like a hiccup, like a hyena, (like nails on a chalkboard.) “As if, Webbine!” It exclaimed, Webby sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think this is gonna work, Wiggog. We need to go somewhere.” Wiggly scoffed, and Webby summoned light; it swirled all around them, enveloping them, and suddenly, for once, The King in Black felt dizzy; tired even. When he woke up, he was in a field, a flower field. It was all white, white flowers, white grass — trees made of snowy bark and leaves weaved from spiderwebs. Webby’s eyes fluttered open next, and she sat up, gazing at Wiggly. “What is this place?” Wiggly asked, his azure eyes were sharp and unforgiving. “Where are we?” Webby took a deep breath, letting a small ant crawl up her hands. “This is my domain.” She said. “This is.. a section of The White I made, a place I like to come to when I need to calm down.” She explained. “And I think, truly, that is what you need, to calm down and talk.” Wiggly grumbled. “I do not need to calm down or talk, Webbine. I am doing just fine.” He said.
Wiggly adjusted his crown; a gold one with jewels the colors of his brothers. Webby took note of the slightly nervous gesture, and she scooted closer to him. “I can see right through you, you know that.” Webby smiled, tilting her head, Wiggly hated how she looked at him, he hated how much she knew him, he hated how she could see through him, he hated how much she understood him from just one look — she may have been family, she may see through him, she may care about him; but he hated that, he despised it, he despised her, and everything about her, yet part of him wanted to give in, to talk this out, to calm down. (He didn’t need to calm down, he was calm, he was a creature with feelings, and his feelings were hatred, and rage, and unbridled anger; all directed towards what should be his sister.) Wiggly huffed and crossed his arms. “Why should I give in?” He asked, Webby frowned, and all Wiggly could see was her child form, the one he grew up with, the one he would play with, the one he would talk to, the one who listened, and suddenly he remembered that she would still listen, she never changed, only they did. “Because you know you want to.” Webby whispered. “Do you remember our first years of existence, Wiggog?” She continued. “You used to love me, you used to love our Mother.” Webby studied her brother’s expression closely, noticing the traces of guilt and shame in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide with anger. “Yes, Webbine, i do remember.” Wiggly frowned. “Of course I remember.” Wiggly rolled his eyes. Webby smiled at that, grabbing his hands again, and this time, it didn’t burn him. He felt strangely at peace here, he felt strangely at peace with her. “What is your point?” He asked. Webby closed her eyes. “My point is, why did you stop?” She asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face “What was so tempting about fathers words that you five chose him over us?” Webby continued. Wiggly considered her question, his hands moving away from hers. “Father promised his attention.” Wiggly started. “His praise, all his attention.” He paused.
“On the condition that we listened to him, and only him.” Wiggly added. He didn’t know why these words were flowing out of him, he didn’t want to tell her this. “What did you do, you stupid bitch?” He spat. Webby weaved a web and fidgeted with it. “Just a little magic, nothing for you to fret about.” She assured. “This won’t work unless we talk, Wiggog, I’m just helping.” It said. Wiggly snarled. “You’re being just as bad as us.” He laughed. “Using mind control like that.” Wiggly grinned; knocking his knee against hers. “Not very good of you, Webbine.” He teased, Webby averted her gaze, her dark eyes full of care, and now a hint of guilt. “As a wise person once said..” she started. “Sometimes you have to use something bad; to do something good.” She quoted, Wiggly hissed. “What a disgusting thing to say.” It said. “If you’re using something bad, you’re bad.” He explained. Webby sighed. “You never learn, do you?” She giggled. “Morality is not black and white, Wiggog.” She said. “You never learned that because Father nor our brothers ever taught you.” Webby looked out at its domain, admiring her own handiwork, she smiled as a small spider crawled up her hand, joining the ant that was there first, she watched them interact as Wiggly started to speak again. “They never taught me because it doesn’t matter.” He declared, making Webby sigh again. “Then what did they teach you? How to rule? How to manipulate humans? How to hurt your family?” She spat. “You never learn!” She cried; getting angrier by the second, her black eyes were sharp and unforgiving — not too dissimilar from Wiggog’s previous expression (it was a perfect match, in fact, they will always be twins; no matter what the universe throws their way.) Wiggly sighed. “Oh, don’t get upset, Webbine.” He complained. Webby just stared at him, her gaze cut through him, and suddenly he was caught red-handed playing with T’noy Karaxis’ toy box again. “Do not tell me what I can or cannot do, Wiggog.” She hissed. “I make the decisions for myself.” She said, weaving her fingers through her hair. “So, if I may, I am going to be upset.” She huffed, crossing her arms this time. “I still love you, Wiggog, you’re my brother, my best friend since we both came into existence, but I do not know who you are anymore.” Part of Wiggly frowned at that. “You’ll learn eventually, Webbine.” He declared; looking around at her domain, noticing a small pond over yonder (Wiggly always liked water; he and Webby would mess around in the human realm, playing in the ocean.)
Wiggly blinked, and ignored the pond, looking back at Webby. “I’m-“ Webby started; tears forming in her eyes, the word ‘sorry’ not daring to leave her mouth, she took a deep breath “I’m not sorry, I have nothing to learn.” She scolded, wringing her hands. “If you won’t listen, I’ll make you listen.” She grabbed his hands again, and a web wrapped around his. He was forced to switch quickly between his cosmic and human form as it wrapped around him — when it did, her magic was stronger, and the words just flowed from him. “I’m insecure.” He started. “I feel like I have to be strong all the time or else Father and the others will hate me.” He said. “Good, good, let it out.” Webby praised, gripping his hands again. “Keep going.” She encouraged. (Wiggly didn’t want to do this, but part of him screamed at him to continue.) Webby smiled sadly; sensing his inner turmoil. Wiggly sighed. “I need to be strong, to be powerful, to be in control, or else I don’t matter.” Wiggly blinked a couple times, trying to get out of her spell, but he struggled against the webs. “You did it again!” He shouted. “Stop it, Webbine!” He gripped at his grassy hair with his web-stained hands. “Something must be done, Wiggog.” Webby explained; toying with a web in her hands. “Now, I’m going to ask you a couple questions, and you will be honest.” Wiggly didn’t struggle against the webs this time. “Go on.” He said. Webby took a deep breath and began her questions. “Why did you choose Willabella Muckwab?” Wiggly (the part behind Webby’s control) smiled. “Simple, she was a naive victim of the village’s wrath, what would I be to not take advantage of that?” He explained. “She was my best prophet, you know.” He mused. Webby nodded and continued with the questions. “Why did you choose Linda Monroe?” Wiggly pretended to think for a moment. “She was so hungry, so wanting.” He stated. “It was easy to get into her head, and my servant sure seemed to like her too.” He teased. Webby chuckled at the last part. “He did, huh? Okay, next one. Why did you choose Grace Chasity?” Wiggly turned his head. “Oh, Gracie — truly, she is not mine, she was chosen by Bliklotep.” He started. “That girl is filled with a rage that only we could get out of her, do you remember what she did to the Jägerman boy? Or Jason Jepson? Or her pally-wal Gabriel Adams?” Wiggly continued. “She maimed them, I was so proud, and Nibblenephim enjoyed his wittle snacks!” Wiggly’s eyes had a hint of twisted pride in them.
“Next one. How do you feel about our brothers?” Webby implored, Wiggly blinked a bit in surprise at her question. “Pokotho is pretentious, and undeserving, Bliklotep is lazy and slothful, T’noy is child-like and foolish, and Nibblenephim is gluttonous and unsatisfied.” Wiggly declared. Webby tilted her head. “Is there anything else, Wiggog?” She persuaded. Wiggly sighed. “Fine. I do love them.” He began. “Despite everything, they’re family.” Webby smiled at that. “Good, good.” She praised. “Why did you start the Black Friday riots and cult, other than wanting power and worship?” Webby inquired. “I know there’s a reason, brother.” Webby said. Wiggly paused. “Pokotho had taken over a timeline a mere mortal month before, and I wanted to one up him with my own apocalypse — of sorts.” He looked down at his hands; checking his nails. “Is that the last question?” He asked nonchalantly. “No, actually.” Webby shook her head, Wiggly sighed, still pretending to ignore her. “Oh, yay.” He said sarcastically. “What’s the next one?” Soon, they were interrupted by a short figure; wearing a red flannel, overalls, and a collared blue shirt, popping in. “Webby?” She murmured. Wiggly looked over and. Oh. Rotten little banana was here. Webby shushed her. “Go back home, little bug, I’ll visit you soon.” Webby whispered. Webby waved a hand; both saying goodbye to Hannah, and sending her back home. “Sorry for the interruption, Wiggog.” Wiggly sighed. “It is fine, Webbine.” He assured, she calmed herself, preparing for the next question. “How do you feel about me?” It inquired. Words left Wiggly’s mortal mouth before he could stop them. “I despise you.” He snarled. “You’re so much better than us in so many ways, I’m jealous, I’m envious.” He continued. “You’re so nice, you’re so kind, you’re so caring, it’s disgusting.” He bit back. “You treat mortals as your own, when they are mere ants to us, for us to toy with, to watch squirm, to kill.” Webby flinched at the increasing volume of his voice. Wiggly grinned at that. (The Queen in White was scared of a little loud noise? How pathetic) Webbine tightened the webs; grinning right back. “But I also miss you, Webbine, I miss being a whole family.” Webby smiled at that, reaching out to hug him. He didn’t resist. Wiggly was starting to feel dizzy, he was starting to feel sleepy again. “Goodnight, Wiggog.” Webby cooed, tracing a finger over his crown and swirling the web in her hands.
Wiggog Y’Wrath passed out. Webbine Y’Weave observed.
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