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softboywriting · 5 years

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Haven Port | Chapter One | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn and his pack have moved to your tiny town of Haven Port. You've never met werewolves other than your dad before and you’re infinitely curious. You may be only half werewolf but you and Shawn have a connection that will send you on a wild romantic journey in this small town you call home. [hybrid reader] [werewolf shawn]

Word count: 2.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

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Winter in Haven Port never seemed to end. The small town was blanketed in snow probably a solid 6 months of the year. The population was under four hundred and much of the residents lived outside the actual town.

You were born and raised here in Haven Port, the only child of a Werewolf father and a human mother. Your parents met when your dad got run out of a pack town along the shore.

For twenty two years you've grown up with the same people, and known everyone like they were your family. So when someone new shows up in town you're surprised, and even more so because they came into your shop.

Owning a tea and coffee shop in a place so small seemed unreasonable but most of your business came from regulars, fisherman from the boat yard and online orders that you shipped around the world. You specialize in making custom tea blends and gift baskets that become a highly sought after item during the Christmas season.

The bell over the front door jingles and you dismiss it for a moment, assuming it's one of your regular customers and they will wait for you to appear momentarily. You continue to stack the boxes of your most recent shipment of whole tea leaves. You like to grind them yourself when you make your blends.

You glance out into the shop and see a tall, young, dark haired guy browsing your display table. His appearance stumps you, and you can't put a finger on who he is. For a second you think he is Felicia's son, Cody, the one who ran the post office during the week. But he is too tall, far too tall.

“Who in the world...” You mutter to yourself as you climb over boxes to get to the counter. A better look would help.

“Hello is anybody- oh. Hello.” The stranger smiles and his eyes meet yours as you approach the sales counter. His eyes...wow...they were like liquid gold, honey in the sun, Amber on an ancient tree. They are stunning.

“Hi,” you say, a smile infectiously spreading across your face of it's own free will. “I don't think we've met.”

“We sure haven't,” he purrs and extends a hand out to you. His eyes leave yours in favor of your ears.

You flatten your ears down and back, realizing he probably thinks you're a weirdo. You hated interaction with people who didn't know you. How could you have forgotten the fuzzy things sticking out of your hair?

“It's rude to stare,” you say cooly, shaking his hand very briefly before burying them in the pockets of your apron.

The guy shakes he head and looks down, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “I'm so sorry. It's been a long time since I met a hybrid...I shouldn't be so rude. I'm s-”

“You've met others?” You ask, cutting him off and he raises his eyebrows. “Where did you come from?”

“You're a curious little pup aren't you?” He chuckles and leans against the counter. “How about we exchange names before we talk histories? I'm Shawn.”

You give your name and twist your hands in your apron. “Would you like some tea? Coffee?”

Shawn looks up at the menu and hums. He bites his lip, narrowing his eyes as he reads. “I'll have the Earl Grey special. No sugar.”

You punch it into the register and announce his total. He slides a card and you turn away to make his drink. When you turn to give it to him he is on his phone, frowning at the small screen. You slide the cup toward him and he wraps his hand around it, brushing your fingers with his.

He looks up, smiles and takes the cup. “Thank you. Have a good day,” he smirks and heads out into the icy spring air.

“Wait! You didn't...tell me where you were from.” You sigh, watching him pull off the street in a big black Jeep that looks way too new for anyone in Haven Port.

Immediately you go for your phone on the back counter. You had to tell your best friend, Faye, exactly what happened. She'd probably never believe you, and maybe Shawn was a fever dream, but you had to tell her anyway.

_____________________

Two days later you turn around from grinding up some tea for a special order and drop your spice blender as you catch sight of Shawn standing at the counter. You'd never heard the bell ring, but it was probably because the blender had been too loud.

Shawn rushes around the counter as you squat down to clean up the broken blender base. “I'm so sorry! I didn't think I'd scare you!” He kneels down and helps you clean up. “I can replace it, I'll order you a new one, top of the line. I feel so bad.”

“It's okay, I've got an extra one. It's not your fault at all. I was just startled.”

Shawn reaches for a towel to put the small pieces into to carry to the trash can. Unfortunately the towel he grabs has powdered sugar all over it from an instant coffee blend you were working on. The white sugar snows down all over your head and you can't help but laugh, falling back against the cupboard as Shawn stares in shock that he's screwed up again.

“I-I am so sorry,” Shawn mutters, reaching for your ears and running his hand over your fur gently dusting the sugar off.

The moment he touches you, you're done for. Your eyes roll back, you lean into his hand, and you go slack. All you want to do in that moment is curl up on this strangers lap and have him adore you. God if he asked you to, you'd be all over him like a puppy wanting attention.

“Hey, you okay?” Shawn asks quietly, hand in your hair, thumb stroking over the base of your ear.

You snap back to reality, pulling yourself out of the euphoria you'd entered. You shove Shawn away and scramble back along the floor. “Don't touch my ears!” You blurt out as you smooth them down, trying to get rid of the feel of his hands.

Shawn stares, bewildered by your sudden mood change. He stands, brushing his pants off and looks to the front door as the bell jingles.

You stand up and see Faye crossing the small sitting area. She stops, eyes finding Shawn almost instantly. He was hard to miss, being so tall and broad.

“I should go,” Shawn mutters, walking around the counter and straight out the front door.

“Ohmygod! That's Shawn? That! Wow, if you don't lock that down, I'm going to.” Faye drops her bag on the counter and click her tongue. “What happened in here?”

“I dropped a spice blender.”

“Uh huh,” Faye says, eyeing the mess behind the counter. “ You sure you didn't knock it off the counter while you and Shawn were getting hot and heavy?”

“Faye! I don't even know him!”

Faye snorts. “Psh not yet, but you're gonna.”

_____________________

A few weeks later and you're behind the shop taking trash out and it's snowing. The sun went down hours ago and the night sky is reflecting off the snow, making the town an off orange and brownish hue. You crunch across the fresh fallen snow. May 2nd and still snowing. That was Haven Port for you.

“Hey,” you hear softly from behind you followed by crunching footsteps. You turn and see Shawn approaching with his hands in his pockets. “I'm sorry I touched your ears.”

“What? Oh! Oh that was weeks ago.” You laugh, shrugging it off. “You didn't know, you were just trying to help. Is that why you haven't come by?”

Shawn rubs his neck nervously. “Well, it's part of the reason. The other part is that I'm helping my pack move into a place right outside town. I was the first to get here so-”

“You're a Werewolf? You're like me!” You grin, excitement bubbling out of you as you start toward Shawn. You knew there was something about him when you'd seen those gorgeous golden eyes.

“Yes,” Shawn chuckles as you circle him. “I take it you haven't met any Werewolves lately?”

“Never. Just my dad, but it's not the same.” You circle him and shake your head. “How do I know you're not a liar?”

Shawn cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders for a second before he steps back and before your very eyes, his form changes into that of a very large rich brown and black wolf.

You can't help yourself as you touch his fur tentatively, fully burying your fingers in his coat near his neck. He sits and you drop to your knees in the snow, hands running up and down his back.

Shawn shifts back, sitting on the ground before you. “You're hard to read.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” he starts, taking your hand and rubbing his fingers over your palm. “You're sweet and shy one moment, then you yell at me the next. Now you're like a kid in a candy store upon learning about me.”

“Y-you're a wolf, how could I not be excited.”

“I'm an alpha actually.”

“An alpha? Oh my God.”

Shawn laughs, standing and pulling you up out of the snow. “You've really never met a wolf before huh?”

“Never. I've never left Haven Port, and not very many people visit here. We're kind of a stop over for fishing boats and that's it.”

“Ah, yeah, I picked Haven Port just for that reason. My pack has run into trouble over the past few years and I really just wanted to settle down somewhere nice. Something drew me to this place...I dunno what it was.”

You shake your head. “There's nothing here?”

“You're here.”

A blush tints your cheeks and you bite your lip. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

Shawn crosses his arms and looks you over. “Come on. I move to this little sleepy snow-covered town and I meet the most adorable hybrid on my first day? I think this town is going to be just what I needed.”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the back door of the shop. “You're such a flirt. I know you're just trying to butter me up for whatever reason.”

“I am not trying t-”

“You don't have to try so hard,” you giggle and Shawn smiles, chuckling nervously. “I'm already interested.”

“Oh? You are huh?”

You walk slowly back toward the door and Shawn follows.”I am. Would you mind walking me home?”

“Of course not. Would you like a ride instead? My Jeep is parked out front.”

“I'd rather walk, if you don't mind. I'm just...I don't know you that well. I don't think getting in a car with a stranger is very smart.”

Shawn shakes his head and laughs. “You're totally right. I'm so dumb, of course we can walk. For the record though, I'm not a creep.”

“Sounds like something a creep would say,” you joke and he just sighs into a chuckle.

You grab your bag and a hat off the coat hooks by the door. You lock up, pushing Shawn out and fishing your keys from your coat pocket to lock the dead bolts.

The two of you walk around the building and past his Jeep and you pause, looking at the shiny black car. It was really nice, and you sort of always dreamed of having one. They were such great all terrain vehicles...it makes you wonder if he bought it just before moving here.

“What's on your mind?” Shawn whispers, leaning in close to your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Nothing, I was just spacing off. Come on, I live up this way.”

You set off up the street, heading for the road that turned toward a street lined with old brick homes. It's chilly, and the wind picks up significantly as you round the corner to your street. You pull your coat closer around you and shiver, even with your Werewolf genetics, the cold got to you sometimes.

“Are you cold?” Shawn asks, glancing over your shivering form. “I could give you my jacket, I'd be fine.”

“No, no we're almost there.” You bite your lip to keep your teeth from chattering and tug your hat down from where it's slid up because of your ears.

“Pup, stop,” Shawn murmurs and grabs your hand. “You're shaking so badly. I can't in good conscience let you keep going like this.”

“I'm not a pup. I'm an adult,” you say a little harsher than you mean to. “I just...I'm fine. We're almost there. It's only a few houses down.”

“Please, I insist.” Shawn shrugs off his thick winter coat so he's standing in a nice collared front zip sweater. It's form fitting and you can't help your eyes as they wander over his chest.

“Fine,” you sigh. Shawn helps you put the coat, squatting to zip it up you. He stands to pull the hood up over your head and admire you in his big coat It smells like his cologne and him...it's wonderful.

“There, you'll be nice and warm now.” Shawn says smiling down at you as a snowflake falls on your nose.

The two of you look up as it begins to snow, big clusters of flakes falling all around you. You push the coat hood back and your hat falls off as you tilt your head up to catch flakes on your tongue.

Shawn joins you and you can't help but laugh. You're two weirdos standing in the middle of the street at nearly eleven at night catching the first flakes of a snowstorm in your mouths. “What are we doing?” You giggle and Shawn shakes his hair out.

“I'm taking you home I believe.”

“Right, yeah.” You pull the hood over your head, pocketing your hat. “It's a few more houses up.”

Your house is at the end of the street. It's small and made of brick with a stone accent around the base of it. It's the home you grew up in and your parents gave to you when they moved a little farther out of town to a cabin your dad built.

At your porch you stop, hands on your keys in your pocket, and look up at Shawn. “Thanks for walking me home. I know it's not a big deal, being out here alone in a tiny little town, but it was nice.”

“Yeah, it's a pretty sleepy town, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, grinding your toe into the snow on the porch. “Good night I guess.”

“Mmhmm. Good night.”

Shawn steps off the porch and heads for the road to go back and get his Jeep. It's not until you're inside, greeting your cat Parker, that you realize you still have Shawn's coat on. Quickly you go to the window and look out, he's more than half way down the street and you decide you'll just have to keep it for now. Not that you mind.

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the-uptake · 6 years

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Abdications of Flesh

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 1. Chapter 2 MIA; go to next available chapter.

TW: Drug culture, police brutality, dysmorphia

Disconnection became the peristaltic pulse of Tri-City in the wake of the permanent quarantine. The ghosts of the Stalkers’ Quarter reached out and up from the imposing hundred-yard walls which confined it, a glaring neon Wolfram concrete warning to anyone who might wonder what might lay within an entryless barrier. In mere months, the supersaturation of public guilt left citizens complacent to a shared commiseration that it had to be done, that there was no other way; and in the wake of dispassionate transgressions, came a vast and opportunistic multitude of nepenthe. City laws evolved rapidly to meet the needs–and demands–of the masses. Everyone nursed their own personal set of vices. 24-hour liquor stores and bars bloomed up overnight, and over time other more creative maladaptive indulgences became equally commonplace.

Suddenly, more than any other point in the history of their lives, everyone wanted to be anyone but themselves. Industry could adapt. Industry could provide.

‘Choly and Cecil walked down a Level 12 street in the commercial district, the smooth and simplistic concrete facades along the entire strip swathed in advertisements projected upon their every surface. Romantic strands of Valentine’s Day decor still lingered in places. ‘Choly wore a salmon dress shirt under an oversize mint green sweater with black pants and mint green creepers, with large green gauge tunnels and his bangtails loose to either side of his bespectacled face. Cecil seemed to have tried to coordinate this, with a pale pink button-up shirt and dark grey pants both with cuffs rolled, thin black suspenders, and two-tone oxford boots.

“It’s not too dissimilar to our great city’s thriving cannabinoid market.” ‘Choly’s cane gait punctuated his wry lyric. “There’s fewer and fewer plants every day, but I guess agriculture knows the ones that’re most important to hold onto.”

“It’s not really a plant, though.” Cecil was the first to catch sight of where they were headed, and went ahead a bit to get to the neon pink door first. “It’s more of a fungus, I think. Made from fungus, anyway?”

“From what I hear…” ‘Choly came along far more slowly, and only continued once he’d closed the distance between him and his boyfriend. “…From what I hear, it’s made from a lot of things. Augen tells me this might just be what breaks the ban on Vekarix, that nobody will admit that’s what made Confec possible. The designer drug market is havin’ a hey day over genetically engineering hybrid magic mushrooms an’ shit. Swear, next thing we’ll hear, they’ll have put every known psychoactive living thing together in one organism, an’ we’ll be begging to take turns licking it.”

“Maybe they’ll finally come around to letting people continue splicing legally.” Cecil shot him a sarcastic grin as he held the door to a shop open for him. “If he’s right about the Vekarix, we might eventually see more and more diverse hybrids.”

‘Choly sniffed and side-eyed him as he stepped inside the small shop.

“People are… bound to do a lot of things in this desperate climate, whether or not it’s legal. Legality dilutes innovation, but definitely makes it easier access.”

Three other customers browsed as the pair entered. Glass display counters ran the entire track of the long narrow space, filled with racks of colorful shapes in a presentation not unlike a pastry shop. The wolf hybrid shopkeeper had her long electric blue hair pulled back over the crown of her head and braided tight. Her claws matched, and she wore a wide-strapped and very low-cut tailored white jumpsuit. ‘Choly barely kept himself from making comment on the coincidence.

“They make me think of chocolates.” ‘Choly stooped a bit just to admire the molded things. Many of the ones in that particular case had been marbled with several colors in one. He caught sight of the price tags and his face drooped.

“It’s more like soap, if you want to be honest.” The shopkeeper approached them and ran a paw over her hair. The door buzzed shut again, and suddenly it was just the three of them. “I take it you gentlemen are gloss virgins? You’ve made a great choice to pop in here for your first time. We grow and refine our product ourselves. Everything on display is hand crafted.”

Stiffly, Cecil put his hands in his pockets and tried not to make eye contact.

“With neither of us really having experience with it, can you… recommend anything?”

“Well, if you’re just looking for glossy, the best place to start is one of our truffles. They’re not too bitter, and the high is pretty mellow and smooth-transitioning.” She gestured to the case with trays of milky white spheres, then next to it at the case ‘Choly had been eyeing, filled with little rainbow colored cube shapes. “And bonbons have a sharper flavor, but they take faster.”

‘Choly hemmed a bit.

“…An’ what about the hardest thing you’ve got?”

She held a breath against the roof of her mouth and let it out of her snout with a grin. She motioned for them to follow her to the back counter, where she rounded it to lean her elbows on it.

“Of course, we have more potent preps, too. You’re in luck to come in now, really. We just got in some new stuff, if you want to be cutting edge with your first time.” She pointed down to the finger-size amber screw-top ampules lined up to one side of the display. “Distilled Confec. The confectioner calls it resin, and I can say from personal experience you won’t regret it. It’s a composite-gloss, a cultivar custom-crafted by him.” She winked at Cecil, who swallowed hard and stood straighter. “My ears piqued when you mentioned Vek on your way in. Confec is great and all, but resin? It’s absolutely a food of the gods. The hardest entheogen I’ve ever had, and believe me when I call myself a connoisseur from personal experience.”

‘Choly eyed the counter, then looked up to the shopkeep.

“How much?”

“One vial’s forty-five. About twenty hits. It’s potent stuff. Only takes a drop or two, really.” She sneer-flinched and laughed. “Recommend the trope take for it, soaking it into a sugar cube. It’s real bitter.”

“You sure you need it?” Quietly, Cecil chewed at his spider bites. “As opposed to the Confec, I mean? We came here to get a handle on your anxiety, not go crazy.”

When Cecil continued to skirt the shopkeeper’s attempts at eye contact, she crossed her arms at him.

“Resin’s totally safe, if that’s your worry. But anxiety, though? If that’s what you’re here for, you’re more likely gonna want burfee. It’s got a veneer more than a gloss.” She pointed to the counter to their right, full of chalky pastel balls. “Cultivar’s got borrowed cannabis sequences. Takes the edge off everything, without inducing a full trip.”

“We can start with Confec,” ‘Choly resigned, gaze tracing the items in that case. “I was expecting a high price tag, but the resin’s a bit rich for my ah,” he leaned in nearer, “my Level Zero upbringing, if you get my meaning.”

After a moment she also leaned in even closer, and barked a laugh.

“I understand now why you need a little escapism, dreg. You got moxie keepin’ the ‘do. I know just looking at him that he’s not, though, so what’s his story? He weird around all hybrids? I’ve been tagged and documented, as if it matters.”

“You’ve got extraction scars.” Cecil tried his best not to fluster as he pointed tersely at his own ear for emphasis, keeping to a near-whisper. “Tagged, past tense. Talk about moxie.”

Her shoulders froze up when he called her out on it.

“Hum, I didn’t notice,” ‘Choly commented in a thoughtful detachment. His head tilted askew as he inspected the wolf girl’s right ear. Near the lower base, it crumpled in on itself a bit. “No wonder he’s crushing on you.”

“Tch!” Cecil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face.

“He likes hybrids,” ‘Choly continued, enjoying embarrassing him. “We both think you’re pretty cute, any rate.”

“Oh really now?” Her ears piqued and her eyelids drooped.

“…Very,” Cecil admitted. He put his glasses back on and fished out his wallet, stuffing down his social misery. “How much is the, uh, the burfee?”

“It’s twenty-five for half a dozen of one cultivar, but we’ve got a special this month, for a variety half-dozen for nineteen. Since you’re having trouble making up your minds, perhaps a sampler would help you feel out what’s up your alley. And…” She held a lyric to her tone when the pair of them looked in agreement finally. “I suppose I could toss in an amp of Resin if you give me a kiss on the cheek.”

The flush that washed across Cecil’s face lit up every faint freckle in a constellation of awkwardness, and he smirked before leaning across the counter and complying. He sneaked a brief rub of her cauliflower ear while he was at it, then pulled back to admire her, still holding out a cred. She blepped pleasantly at him as she took the cred to run it on the register screen.

“I totally didn’t think he’d do it,” ‘Choly mumbled, trying not to laugh.

“Me either.” She handed the cred back and lolled her pierced tongue in full at Cecil. “You’re not, like, a hybrid chaser or something, are you? Most normies can’t tell that my ear’s not just, like, a piercing deformity.” Her muzzle slacked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste of me. I forget some people went through with the therapy.”

Cecil’s only response, after a pause, was to wink at her. She shuffled over to unlock the display case and prepare the small cardstock box with what they’d purchased.

“Name’s Dee, by the way.” She popped the earned trinket in the corner of the box and twined it up, then handed the parcel to Cecil. “Maybe you’ll come see me again sometime.”

“Cecil. Dee, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Seconded,” ‘Choly chirped. His awkward flashing of a rigid, short hand wave and interjection of his own name got a chuckle from Dee.

“Hope it’s the escape you came in for.”

Once the two had exited the confectionery shop, Cecil continued carrying the purchase.

“Why’d you technically lie to Dee, anyway?” ‘Choly smiled at his boyfriend. “You never had any work done to have reversed.”

“Chalk it up to the stress of being ribbed over thinking she had spunk.”

The dreg choke-laughed at this, and ran a few free fingers over Cecil’s hand, eliciting a sly withdrawn smile.

They stopped briefly at a corner store for cheap premade coffee, and ‘Choly held the box while Cecil filled up two cups and paid for them. The dreg plopped down the Confec on the counter of the cramped coffee area of the establishment and took the weight off his legs for a spell against the wall, then pulled out his reader to burn a couple of minutes. He decided to snap a nondescript, contextualized pic of his acquisition and send it to Augen; even though the vampire’s availability was dimmed, he’d see the message later.

ketherphorbia sent a file SDC43011_100-5102.JPG.

ketherphorbia: mission successful

9augen is typing…

ketherphorbia: oh, hi

ketherphorbia: i’ve got good timing. didn’t think you’d be on

9augen has stopped typing.

9augen: please tell me youll be home soon. no one else is responding

ketherphorbia: need to talk?

9augen: its. sensitive. youll be home soon right

ketherphorbia: yeah, the confectioner’s we went to’s only one level up. is five minutes ok?

9augen: Yeah.

“Telling him about our adventure?”

Cecil returned and offered one of the syrofoam cups, and ‘Choly traded him the box for it, so that Cecil carried the Confec and one coffee, and ‘Choly carried the other with his free hand.

“I was about to. He’s being vague. In an urgent way. It bugs me.”

“I’m sure he just wants to trade juicies. Come on, let’s get going.”

The two each waved their public transit passes as they entered the toll lift, and cuddled against the back wall on the way one level down. Although this one cost a third-cred per level to ride one way, the nearest free lift was five blocks further away, and this toll lift let out on the same block as their housing complex. They exited and rounded the corner right into the lobby of the complex, and took the building elevator three floors to their apartment. While Cecil got the door, ‘Choly’s reader began to vibrate from receiving a vid chat, and he nearly dropped his coffee fumbling to double check that it was coming from the expected caller.

“You’re so slaggin’ impatient,” ‘Choly whined as he accepted with hesitation.

The screen was black, but he could hear labored breathing. Once inside their apartment, ‘Choly squinted at the display of his reader to see it indicated ‘no video’ and he sighed with an eye roll, suspecting that his friend had something ridiculous to reveal.

“Sorry,” the other end mustered, strangled and adenoidal. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared right now, ‘Choly.”

The foreign quality of the voice got the dreg’s attention immediately, and with a knitted brow, he quickly toed out of his creepers at the door and took his coffee to the daybed-couch in the back end of the apartment. The confec went to the side table beside the coffee on its coaster. Cecil watched ‘Choly trying to get comfortable, and offered a bold, blocky quilt and a knee-pat, but he wasn’t sure if he was invited to the call, so he took to the front end of the apartment to the confines of his book-nook, assuming he’d be fetched to join in if they so desired it. Either way, he’d hear about it later.

“You certainly don’t sound like yourself.” ‘Choly cleared his throat, hair on end. “What’d you get into, anyway?”

A long, labored pause lingered when the caller couldn’t form the words.

“…Augen…?”

“My coven got hit. They’re doing therapy raids now. Fucking Open Carry Manifesto! Fuck, it hurts so bad to talk. Can’t hardly see straight.” It took ‘Choly a while to understand what Augen had described, and a hand went to the dreg’s mouth as he stared at the blank screen. “You heard about the OCM, right. I’m not just a rambling lunatic right now?”

“I heard it was just civilian access to tranq, ‘cause Levelers are scared of the hybrids that kept their grafting. But fuck, Augen! Are you suggesting there’s a paramilitary force using it to force therapy serum? Since when did the government have the right!” He whipped off his glasses, nearly crying as everything set in. “–Oh fuck. Fuck. Are you all right? Of course you’re not all right. Fuck. –Where are you? Do we need to come get–”

“Shhhhhh. Take it down about fifteen notches. My head’s a thunderstorm right now. …One question at a time, maybe. Ugh. …First, no, the government doesn’t have the right. Best I can understand, this is a splinter of police, or army nuts, overstepping laws for sake of upholding moral code. They screamed out something like cleaning out a murderer’s den before they just unloaded on us.”

‘Choly was unaccustomed to hearing his friend talk this much at once, and the context as to why a fish had the breath to do so had his head reeling.

“But you got away, right? You’re not still at the, the coven?”

“I got away, yeah. Christ, this fucking sucks. They overdosed us on that shit, I guarantee you. Therapy’s supposed to be incremental–sessions–not abrupt like… THIS! Where’d they get that much serum? Must have a therapy physician in on their group. Sheisse. I’m the only one who’s got a possibility of springing back from this… Good chance the shock just killed a few of us outright. Grafting’s so goddamn expensive, even just solo-sequence jobs. Getting the procedure that gave people their real identities, for a lot of them it was their life savings. …Or someone else’s.”

‘Choly set down his glasses and his cataracted eyes zoned out into the blackness of the vid screen. He’d never seen his friend’s face before the grafting, and his curiosity went haywire. Briefly, he barely kept himself from asking aloud for Augen to show him what he looked like. 'Choly wondered if Augen would ever be comfortable enough to meet in person ever again. But, he trusted ‘Choly enough to voice call him like this, and he’d never done that before his grafting, either. The dreg laid down on the couch on his side, and pulled the quilt over himself.

“What I want to know is how they found where you guys were lying low. It’s not like you were being tasteless about it and lurking a geek bar or some shit. Vampires, your kind’s not stupid. …Wait, what do you mean, or someone else’s?”

“I fell off the grid after my grafting for a lot of reasons. Linnaeus’s circle works a lot like a cult. They scout for vulnerable people. People already ideologically charged and unlikely to have a change of faith even when tested. And those who either have lots of money, or have access to lots of money. Most of my coven fit that bill three-for-three, to be realistic. They were… most supportive of getting the money through whatever means possible. I sold my car. Sold pretty much everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew how to get into my parents’ retirement savings, and I knew that money would only go to waste perpetuating their uninspired, horridly humanesque lives. And I knew they’d have nothing to do with me, the real me, so there was only one real resolution to that moral conflict. …If I got caught like this, where I’m recognizable for what I was before I was myself… I don’t think I’d do well in jail. And that’s just for the theft, what can be accounted to my birth name…”

“You… you said it was an overdose of serum,” ‘Choly reached, desperate to find something that might lift his friend’s spirits. “And you said there’s a chance you’ll spring back? You’re talking about your marine graft, right?”

A pleasant breath was all he heard for a while.

“I’d say it feels like reckless optimism to grapple onto what it is at its core, but Vek is a metagen by definition. Therapy serum is basically a human-DNA graft job, an attempt to flush out the animal grafts. They told me during my follow-up sessions that subsequent grafting jobs would never stick, thanks to the tunicate graft, and not to waste my cred. I was just rambling when I said it, but maybe you’re right. Maybe the tunicate will recognize the… virus, and kick it for me. I’d get to experience becoming myself all over again. …Thanks. Sometimes, you know just what to say. At the very least, if gives me something pleasant to focus on while this shit wears off.”

“Can I… Can I ask a bad question?” ‘Choly’s words strangled himself.

“Yes, my reader is working fine. Yes, I have vid off on purpose. No, I haven’t had the nerve to do front-facing camera yet, and there’s not a mirror here. If the answer wasn’t one of these, then what were you going to ask me? Otherwise, you know the answer.”

‘Choly swallowed and gave him an exhausted smile.

“Where are you?”

Augen wasn’t sure he’d heard him right and laughed like broken silver.

“I’m not even wholly sure how to tell you where it is. It used to be an automotive repair, going off what’s left in here, and off what it smells like. I think… it specialized in cars from back when it was all by tread. If th– When things go back to normal, I’m inclined to feel out how secure it is. It strikes me as a good place to make more… permanent than just hiding in.”

“It’ll more than go back to normal,” ‘Choly grinned. “I guarantee it.”

“I just remembered, you sent me a pic of your prize earlier. My moment of weakness has kept you from indulging. You’ve got the right idea, honestly. I’m lucky. I picked up an amp of Resin last night, and I was five minutes from taking a hit before… everything happened. It’s, like, hyper-Confec. I’ll have to let you try some next time we get together. But for now, this amp’s all for me. I… I think I can end call finally. I just can’t be… this right now.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Enjoy your evening, bug dick.”

“You, too, stinkface. I’ll have my phone near me if you need me, all right?”

The screen flickered a moment before Augen’s face came into focus in a strange fluorescent amber lighting that didn’t match the ambient glow of Wolfram concrete interiors. ‘Choly wasn’t sure what he expected of his friend’s human features, but the juxtaposition of how his long, dark, stringy mess of hair framed his angular, slim pierced features only magnified the haunted sense of atrophy about him, crestfallen yet still forcing a tired smile. Ostensibly, a massive part of his identity had wasted away that day. Augen could tell ‘Choly had tried to take a screencap and ended the call.

9augen: may this vid call be the last you ever see of this pathetic asshole

‘Choly sent him a mushroom emoticon and set down his reader on the arm of the couch with a dopey, self-conscious smile. Augen had been gorgeous even before undergoing the grafting procedure that transfigured him, though the dreg knew better than to ever share such a sentiment. He sat up and glanced over to the box on the side table, seeking vicariousness even in his friend’s vulnerability, and pulled it into his lap. He’d be fine. And Augen would be fine.

But first, some time needed to pass, and the last thing he wanted was to be present for it.

Go to Next Available Chapter »»»

#biopunk #cyberpunk #anthro #dystopian #the uptake #with symbiotic self indulgence #wssi #abdications of flesh #melanochro kara #george cecil #august ritter #dee wolf

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crown-eater · 6 years

Text

Abdications of Flesh

[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 1. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents) ]

Man, “Maze” and “Vital Ones” need a hard overhaul after this, I swear. Establish ALL the foreshadowing Sorry in advance for how heavy this is, uh

Disconnection became the peristaltic pulse of Tri-City in the wake of the permanent quarantine. The ghosts of the Stalkers’ Quarter reached out and up from the imposing hundred-yard walls which confined it, a glaring neon Wolfram concrete warning to anyone who might wonder what might lay within an entryless barrier. In mere months, the supersaturation of public guilt left citizens complacent to a shared commiseration that it had to be done, that there was no other way; and in the wake of dispassionate transgressions, came a vast and opportunistic multitude of nepenthe. City laws evolved rapidly to meet the needs--and demands--of the masses. Everyone nursed their own personal set of vices. 24-hour liquor stores and bars bloomed up overnight, and over time other more creative maladaptive indulgences became equally commonplace.

Suddenly, more than any other point in the history of their lives, everyone wanted to be anyone but themselves. Industry could adapt. Industry could provide.

'Choly and Cecil walked down a Level 12 street in the commercial district, the smooth and simplistic concrete facades along the entire strip swathed in advertisements projected upon their every surface. Romantic strands of Valentine’s Day decor still lingered in places. ‘Choly wore a salmon dress shirt under an oversize mint green sweater with black pants and mint green creepers, with large green gauge tunnels and his bangtails loose to either side of his bespectacled face. Cecil seemed to have tried to coordinate this, with a pale pink button-up shirt and dark grey pants both with cuffs rolled, thin black suspenders, and two-tone oxford boots.

“From what I hear...” ‘Choly came along far more slowly, and only continued once he’d closed the distance between him and his boyfriend. “...From what I hear, it’s made from a lot of things. Augen tells me this might just be what breaks the ban on Vekarix, that nobody will admit that’s what made Confec possible. The designer drug market is havin’ a hey day over genetically engineering hybrid magic mushrooms an’ shit. Swear, next thing we’ll hear, they’ll have put every known psychoactive living thing together in one organism, an’ we’ll be begging to take turns licking it.”

‘Choly sniffed and side-eyed him as he stepped inside the small shop.

“People are... bound to do a lot of things in this desperate climate, whether or not it’s legal. Legality dilutes innovation, but definitely makes it easier access.”

Stiffly, Cecil put his hands in his pockets and tried not to make eye contact.

“With neither of us really having experience with it, can you... recommend anything?”

‘Choly hemmed a bit.

“...An’ what about the hardest thing you’ve got?”

She held a breath against the roof of her mouth and let it out of her snout with a grin. She motioned for them to follow her to the back counter, where she rounded it to lean her elbows on it.

‘Choly eyed the counter, then looked up to the shopkeep.

“How much?”

“You sure you need it?” Quietly, Cecil chewed at his spider bites. “As opposed to the Confec, I mean? We came here to get a handle on your anxiety, not go crazy.”

When Cecil continued to skirt the shopkeeper’s attempts at eye contact, she crossed her arms at him.

After a moment she also leaned in even closer, and barked a laugh.

“You’ve got extraction scars.” Cecil tried his best not to fluster as he pointed tersely at his own ear for emphasis, keeping to a near-whisper. “Tagged, past tense. Talk about moxie.”

Her shoulders froze up when he called her out on it.

“Tch!” Cecil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face.

“He likes hybrids,” ‘Choly continued, enjoying embarrassing him. “We both think you’re pretty cute, any rate.”

“Oh really now?” Her ears piqued and her eyelids drooped.

“...Very,” Cecil admitted. He put his glasses back on and fished out his wallet, stuffing down his social misery. “How much is the, uh, the burfee?”

“It’s twenty-five for half a dozen of one cultivar, but we’ve got a special this month, for a variety half-dozen for nineteen. Since you’re having trouble making up your minds, perhaps a sampler would help you feel out what’s up your alley. And...” She held a lyric to her tone when the pair of them looked in agreement finally. “I suppose I could toss in an amp of Resin if you give me a kiss on the cheek.”

“I totally didn’t think he’d do it,” ‘Choly mumbled, trying not to laugh.

Cecil’s only response, after a pause, was to wink at her. She shuffled over to unlock the display case and prepare the small cardstock box with what they’d purchased.

“Name’s Dee, by the way.” She popped the earned trinket in the corner of the box and twined it up, then handed the parcel to Cecil. “Maybe you’ll come see me again sometime.”

“Cecil. Dee, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Seconded,” ‘Choly chirped. His awkward flashing of a rigid, short hand wave and interjection of his own name got a chuckle from Dee.

“Hope it’s the escape you came in for.”

Once the two had exited the confectionery shop, Cecil continued carrying the purchase.

“Why’d you technically lie to Dee, anyway?” ‘Choly smiled at his boyfriend. “You never had any work done to have reversed.”

“Chalk it up to the stress of being ribbed over thinking she had spunk.”

The dreg choke-laughed at this, and ran a few free fingers over Cecil’s hand, eliciting a sly withdrawn smile.

ketherphorbia sent a file SDC43011_100-5102.JPG.

ketherphorbia: mission successful

9augen is typing...

ketherphorbia: oh, hi

ketherphorbia: i’ve got good timing. didn’t think you’d be on

9augen has stopped typing.

9augen: please tell me youll be home soon. no one else is responding

ketherphorbia: need to talk?

9augen: its. sensitive. youll be home soon right

ketherphorbia: yeah, the confectioner’s we went to’s only one level up. is five minutes ok?

9augen: Yeah.

“Telling him about our adventure?”

Cecil returned and offered one of the syrofoam cups, and ‘Choly traded him the box for it, so that Cecil carried the Confec and one coffee, and ‘Choly carried the other with his free hand.

“I was about to. He’s being vague. In an urgent way. It bugs me.”

“I’m sure he just wants to trade juicies. Come on, let’s get going.”

“You’re so slaggin’ impatient,” ‘Choly whined as he accepted with hesitation.

“Sorry,” the other end mustered, strangled and adenoidal. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared right now, ‘Choly.”

“You certainly don’t sound like yourself.” ‘Choly cleared his throat, hair on end. “What’d you get into, anyway?”

A long, labored pause lingered when the caller couldn’t form the words.

“...Augen...?”

“I heard it was just civilian access to tranq, ‘cause Levelers are scared of the hybrids that kept their grafting. But fuck, Augen! Are you suggesting there’s a paramilitary force using it to force therapy serum? Since when did the government have the right!” He whipped off his glasses, nearly crying as everything set in. “--Oh fuck. Fuck. Are you all right? Of course you’re not all right. Fuck. --Where are you? Do we need to come get--”

“Shhhhhh. Take it down about fifteen notches. My head’s a thunderstorm right now. ...One question at a time, maybe. Ugh. ...First, no, the government doesn’t have the right. Best I can understand, this is a splinter of police, or army nuts, overstepping laws for sake of upholding moral code. They screamed out something like cleaning out a murderer’s den before they just unloaded on us.”

‘Choly was unaccustomed to hearing his friend talk this much at once, and the context as to why a fish had the breath to do so had his head reeling.

“But you got away, right? You’re not still at the, the coven?”

“I got away, yeah. Christ, this fucking sucks. They overdosed us on that shit, I guarantee you. Therapy’s supposed to be incremental--sessions--not abrupt like... THIS! Where’d they get that much serum? Must have a therapy physician in on their group. Sheisse. I’m the only one who’s got a possibility of springing back from this... Good chance the shock just killed a few of us outright. Grafting’s so goddamn expensive, even just solo-sequence jobs. Getting the procedure that gave people their real identities, for a lot of them it was their life savings. ...Or someone else’s.”

“I fell off the grid after my grafting for a lot of reasons. Linnaeus’s circle works a lot like a cult. They scout for vulnerable people. People already ideologically charged and unlikely to have a change of faith even when tested. And those who either have lots of money, or have access to lots of money. Most of my coven fit that bill three-for-three, to be realistic. They were... most supportive of getting the money through whatever means possible. I sold my car. Sold pretty much everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew how to get into my parents’ retirement savings, and I knew that money would only go to waste perpetuating their uninspired, horridly humanesque lives. And I knew they’d have nothing to do with me, the real me, so there was only one real resolution to that moral conflict. ...If I got caught like this, where I’m recognizable for what I was before I was myself... I don’t think I’d do well in jail. And that’s just for the theft, what can be accounted to my birth name...”

“You... you said it was an overdose of serum,” ‘Choly reached, desperate to find something that might lift his friend’s spirits. “And you said there’s a chance you’ll spring back? You’re talking about your marine graft, right?”

A pleasant breath was all he heard for a while.

“I’d say it feels like reckless optimism to grapple onto what it is at its core, but Vek is a metagen by definition. Therapy serum is basically a human-DNA graft job, an attempt to flush out the animal grafts. They told me during my follow-up sessions that subsequent grafting jobs would never stick, thanks to the tunicate graft, and not to waste my cred. I was just rambling when I said it, but maybe you’re right. Maybe the tunicate will recognize the... virus, and kick it for me. I’d get to experience becoming myself all over again. ...Thanks. Sometimes, you know just what to say. At the very least, if gives me something pleasant to focus on while this shit wears off.”

“Can I... Can I ask a bad question?” ‘Choly’s words strangled himself.

‘Choly swallowed and gave him an exhausted smile.

“Where are you?”

Augen wasn’t sure he’d heard him right and laughed like broken silver.

“I’m not even wholly sure how to tell you where it is. It used to be an automotive repair, going off what’s left in here, and off what it smells like. I think... it specialized in cars from back when it was all by tread. If th-- When things go back to normal, I’m inclined to feel out how secure it is. It strikes me as a good place to make more... permanent than just hiding in.”

“It’ll more than go back to normal,” ‘Choly grinned. “I guarantee it.”

“I just remembered, you sent me a pic of your prize earlier. My moment of weakness has kept you from indulging. You’ve got the right idea, honestly. I’m lucky. I picked up an amp of Resin last night, and I was five minutes from taking a hit before... everything happened. It’s, like, hyper-Confec. I’ll have to let you try some next time we get together. But for now, this amp’s all for me. I... I think I can end call finally. I just can’t be... this right now.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Enjoy your evening, bug dick.”

“You, too, stinkface. I’ll have my phone near me if you need me, all right?”

9augen: may this vid call be the last you ever see of this pathetic asshole

But first, some time needed to pass, and the last thing he wanted was to be present for it.

#biopunk #cyberpunk #dystopian #drug use tw #police brutality tw maybe #With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence #the uptake #august ritter #melanochro kara #george cecil #dee wolf #wssi #dysmorphia tw #dysphoria tw

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writeyouin · 7 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 10 - Part 1

Christmas Cheer Part 1

A/N – Based on a lot of head-canons from @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron so extra special thanks to them for that. I was gonna make you wait longer but Happy Holidays my friends. Dedicated to @millebellete for the epic new icon.

Warnings – NSFW/RATED M UNDER THE “KEEP READING” CUT.

Rating – T

You slumped in a beanbag despondently. You’d only been awake for around twenty minutes and the day already sucked. Before you could contemplate your depressing scenario further, the hab-suite door opened to Swerve who peered around cautiously to check if you were even awake yet; he was always careful not to wake you up.

“Hey (Y/N),” he greeted jovially.

“Hey,” You mumbled.

Swerve frowned, “What’s wrong?”

You got up, shaking your head and throwing out a quick, imitation smile that paled in comparison to the real thing, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Come on, slumped shoulders, low mood, something’s up. Is it that shark week thing you warned me about?” He sounded vaguely panicked, though he wasn’t actually sure what you meant by shark week.

“No, nothing like that, I just… Something I found out.”

“Let’s hear it, or do I have to talk your ears off first because I will, you know I will.”

“Alright, alright, it’s um… My datapad shows the date back on Earth… it’s getting close to Christmas. Christmas is kind of a big deal back on Earth, y’know? I’ve never not… I’m gonna miss it is all.”

“(Y/N),” Swerve murmured, lost for words at the hurt on your face; he couldn’t imagine the pain you were feeling. You couldn’t go home and nobody else on the ship knew Earth holidays like he did, not to mention it was a time spent with family and friends who you’d also lost.

“Forget it,” You said glumly. “I’ll see you later, I think I need a walk… on my own.”

Swerve didn’t stop you from leaving. He couldn’t, not when a bright idea was firing through his processor. He couldn’t fix the Earth problem, but he could distract you from it; the whole ship could distract you.

Little over an hour later, even in your quiet nook of the ship, the Rodimus gong rang loudly through the halls; it didn’t need the PA for that.

“Attention everybody,” Rodimus chimed over the speaker. “In honour of our resident human, I would like to announce the Lost Light’s first HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA.”

You stared, slack jawed at the speaker, did he mean what you thought he meant?

Muffled echoes came over the speaker, “Why aren’t they cheering? They’re supposed to be cheering.” Rodimus cleared his vocaliser and continued, “Since you obviously don’t know what it means, we’re celebrating the Earth holiday of Christmas… what do you mean Hanukkah? Does she celebrate that too? What do you mean you don’t know? Fine, whatever. Christmas and Hanukkah. Ultra Magnus has prepared… ugh, pamphlets on the subject because he managed to ruin holidays too but please, take the time to learn all you can about what I’m told is ‘the most wonderful time of the year.’”

Rodimus heaved a loud sigh at the lack of enthusiasm, “Alright, fine, it’s a big chance to party and get overcharged…. Sure, now they cheer. Rodimus out.”

The speakers fell silent once more and you sat lost for words in the corridor you’d been hiding in. Your new communicator rang with the Friends theme tune which was reserved for Swerve.

You answered it dazed, “Swerve?”

“(Y/N), did you hear the announcement? What do you think? I asked Rodimus this morning and he was totally on board with it. We can decorate the bar, and set up a movie night, and teach everyone the songs, and-”

“It’s wonderful Swerve, you’re the best, thank you,” You were glad he couldn’t see you crying, even if they were happy tears.

“No problem (Y/N), really.”

“What’d Maggie and Megs say?”

“Ultra Magnus got weird and mumbled something about Verity, whatever that is, then he took off and said he had to decorate and told me not to get into trouble. Megatron couldn’t get a word in over Rodimus.”

You sniffed back more tears.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand, “meet you at the bar?”

“Can’t wait.”

“So, what’re we thinking?” Swerve asked, standing next to you in the bar; for once, with the lack of bots, you could stand on the floor with him.

You framed the corner of the room with your hands, holding them out, “What about a huge tree over there? Wait, do we even have a tree… or any decorations for that matter?”

Swerve sputtered, faking offense, “Pfft, do we have decorations. What kind of cave dwelling cretin do you take me for? I mean, you may as well ask if the sky has a moon or-”

“So, we do have decorations?”

“Well, maybe not here but we’ll get some soon, right after you decide what we need.”

“Alright soldier, are you willing to follow orders and commandeer any supplies we need?!”

Swerve saluted, “SIR, YES SIR!”

“AND ARE YOU WILLING TO WAGE WAR ON ANYONE WHO STANDS IN YOUR WAY!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“EVEN IF IT MEANS INFILTRATING THE ENEMY CAMP!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“THEN BEGIN SOLDIER, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK WE NEED.”

“START WITH A WREATH.”

“GOOD, AND?”

“LIGHTS THAT TWINKLE?”

“AND?”

“A SKELETON?”

“YES- Wait, a skeleton? Why a skeleton?”

Swerve held his hands up, “Sorry, I was thinking of Halloween, got excited.”

You grinned, “Fair enough, I’m honestly impressed you got that far, I was hoping you’d screw up sooner.”

Swerve bumped into you playfully, you returned the gesture, laughing as you did so.

“Now,” You commanded, “logistics. I think we’re going to need some help on this one. You got anyone in mind?”

“Tailgate would be good, maybe Chromedome and Rewind, Nautica.”

“Who’s Nautica?”

“Oh right, you two haven’t met yet but she’s awesome and-”

“She? There’s another she on the ship and you didn’t tell me? Go, go get her, I must meet this other she, go.”

You pushed against him, making no difference at all, “Okay, I’m going. I suppose I should bring Velocity back here too if you’re going to meet all the she’s on the ship.”

“Yes,” You squealed, clapping your hands together. “Oh, and bring Rung too.”

“Ring? Why Rang?”

“I swear, you all do the name thing on purpose. Rung has to come because he’ll be happy to be invited, be considerate and invite him before I’m forced to kick your can.”

“Riiight, because you did so good moving me just then.”

“I swear, I could actually destroy you. I’m barely keeping my dangerous animal ferocity contained right now. Us flesh sticks are monstrous, have you never seen Freddy Kreuger or Jason?”

“Frag, if you’re as dangerous as those two, I should run. I’ll leave you to the logistics while I gather the team.”

You saluted once more, and Swerve was out the door, practically bubbling over with excitement.

Boosting yourself up, you sat on one of the barstools, writing a list of what you needed on your datapad.

“Ten!” A mechanical voice gargled.

You squealed, almost falling off your seat, then turned to face the very mech who’d scared you. You’d met Ten before briefly. As far as you knew from the others on the ship, he wasn’t very intelligent, and he served as hired muscle to Swerve.

“Ah, hey Ten. How’re you doing?”

“Ten.”

“Hodor.”

“Ten?”

“Groot?”

“Ten?”

“You’re a mech of many words… Want to keep me company while I plan?”

“TEN!” He threw himself on the stool next to yours enthusiastically.

“Great, first I was thinking a wreath at the door with a red bow. Green and red are the colours of Christmas.” You showed him some pictures on your datapad.

Ten tilted his head, examined the picture, and opened a storage space in his chest panel. He pulled out some pieces of flat silver metal, folding them expertly. It soon became clear that he was making a wreath of his own, albeit devoid of colour.

“Ten, that’s incredible!” You praised as he made a bow with the metal.

“Ten!” He smiled.

“You know, whichever idiot said the thingy about the Ambus test needs their head checked; you’re way smarter than any dumb old test.”

When Swerve came back with the party, minus Nautica who was busy, Ten had piled decoration upon decoration on top of the surrounding tables, each waiting to be placed around the room.

“Whoa…” Swerve marvelled, “What happened here?”

“Ten’s a crafting genius.”

Nautica pushed past everyone to meet you, “Tell me something I don’t know. Hi, I’m Nautica, it used to be Nautical but that didn’t sound right and I babble when I’m excited. You’re a human!”

“And you’re female!”

The two of you squealed excitedly before regaining composure and shaking hands, though Nautica started inspecting your hand, turning it over in hers and making observations.

“What are the lines on your arms?”

“Veins and arteries, they carry blood to and from my heart.”

“Incredible.”

“Right?”

“What else does your body do?”

“Loads of stuff, it can-”

“(Y/N)!” Rewind called impatiently. “Christmas stuff.”

“Right, okay.” The bots gathered around you waiting for what you had to say. You held up your datapad again, showing various images of what each item should look like. “As you can see, Ten has made just about everything we need but silver is so boring on its own. What I need all of you for is a painting spree. Ten, Chromedome, Nautica, you’re the tallest, so you’re on tree painting duty and decoration hanging when that’s done. Rewind, the tinsel really needs to sparkle. Rung, Tailgate, you’re painting the baubles and banners. Swerve, you’re on snowflakes, and I’ll get anything else. Everyone okay with that?”

Everyone agreed enthusiastically and began their duties. Rung proved invaluable, painting over the base coats of the decorations with incredible detail due to his time spent on model ships. With three people working on the tree, it was done in no time, leaving them free to join the hubbub of the decorations table. Swerve was sprinkling liberal amounts of glitter in your hair, claiming you were the angel for the top of the tree. While you laughed hysterically, Rewind filmed, saying he was making a Christmas documentary and asking you every question he could think of on the subject. You started from the beginning, telling any and all traditions that came to your head along the way.

“What’s that? Is it a mini tree?” Rewind zoomed in on the decoration you were painting.

“This is mistletoe, you hang it from the ceiling then when two people step under it, no matter who they are, they have to kiss.”

Chromedome looked lovingly at Rewind; it was a look of so pure and strong that you felt lucky simply to witness it.

Tailgate grabbed the unfinished mistletoe from you, holding it above his head jokingly when you came to get it. “So, like this?”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be is it?” You giggled. “Very funny.” You kissed his faceplate and grabbed the mistletoe back from him with a rocket boot thrust. “Keep playing like that and I won’t give you one for your hab-suite which would be a real shame; think of Cyclonus, all handsome under the mistletoe.”

Tailgate practically glowed at the comment; he was clearly wondering whether Cyclonus would humour him in such an odd tradition. The conversation flowed on as the bar was decorated beautifully. While everything had been made of metal, it served to give the decorations a unique Lost Light look. Swerve kept a box of leftover decorations to use in the hab-suite where the two of you headed after everyone parted ways, babbling excitedly about anything that came to mind.

“I was thinking,” Swerve said, hanging around your kitchen nook while you prepared a Christmas film on the other side of the room, “we should create a Christmas tradition for the Lost Light.”

“Got anything in mind?” You asked, absentmindedly.

“How about naming some new energon cocktails? We could make them seasonal specials, like that eggnog stuff I’ve heard about.”

“So, stuff like, Red Nosed Retro Energon.”

“Yeah, and Santa’s Sleigh-er.”

“Elf-ergon.”

“Jingle Juice.”

“You know, you should really write these down before we forget them.”

“Don’t worry, I remember everything you say.”

You turned around to face him, raising a curious eyebrow, “Pardon?”

Swerve tapped his helm, “G-great memory.”

“Oh, then can you get your great memory over to the berth, so we can start the film?”

For film nights, Swerve always moved the berth into the middle of the room where he’d lay on one side and you’d get the other since he didn’t fill it even when laid out. You’d already prepared a small mountain of pillows to make the hard metal comfy as usual and were awaiting him to start the selected film.

“Here,” Swerve held out a steaming mug of hot chocolate he’d prepared in your tiny kitchen; manoeuvring the small items was much more of a struggle than he’d guessed, and he’d made more of a mess than he cared to admit but the result was there and for that he was proud.

You blinked back surprise, “Thank you.”

“No prob Bob. What’re we watching?”

“Love Actually. It’s the absolute best Christmas film ever, if you can hack the sad parts.”

Swerve’s vocaliser crackled and his cooling fans span quietly, a film called Love Actually was sure to be a romance; it would be the first romance the two of you had watched alone. Were you trying to tell him something or was he imagining things again?

As Swerve laid comfortably on the berth, you started the film and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

“How is it?” he asked hopefully.

You struggled to swallow the thick gloop that was congealing in your mouth. “Like cement,” You garbled.

At the despair on Swerve’s face, you burst into laughter, ungracefully spraying remnants of hot chocolate which brought Swerve into your gales of laughter. You cleaned yourself up and settled into the film. Swerve sat, enchanted with the film until you got up and laid on top of him.

“Wh-Wh-” he tried to speak but couldn’t.

“I love this part,” You said enamoured, getting comfortable on his warm frame. Your head rested against his spark casing and your legs were curled up, limiting you to his chest panel.

While Swerve’s mind reeled, you thought nothing of the small action; it was something you did to friends and family on Earth constantly. Your leg stretched out, accidentally gliding over his interface panel. Swerve threw himself up at the sensitive touch, knocking you to the floor underneath the berth.

“Ow! Swerve, what the hell?”

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” He’d gotten over the initial shock and was now concerned for your safety; it was at least a four-foot fall.

“Yeah, I landed on the pillows you threw. What happened?”

“I uh- I got scared.” The sentence wasn’t entirely a lie, feeling the pressure of your foot against his interface panel was terrifying; did you even know how much you were torturing him?

“You got scared?”

“Y-yes.”

“Of a child playing the drums?”

“Yes? I mean, w-what if the girl rejects him? After a-all he’s done, it’s too scary to t-think about.”

“Right… Well, if you’re okay to continue, I promise it works out okay for him.”

“Y-yeah, we can continue.”

Swerve didn’t know whether to be relieved or hate himself when you took your usual place on the other side of the berth. He was either a genius for resolving the situation or the galaxy’s biggest idiot for ruining what could have felt wonderful, even if you had no idea what you were doing.

Swerve was restless. He’d made up the excuse that he needed to recharge when you went to bed because he couldn’t face anyone the way he was feeling; too much would come spilling out concerning you. Now, he hated himself for lying because the dull throb of his interface array was almost painful. You’d pressed against the containing panel; you’d started this, yet you got to sleep without a care or trouble in the world.

Yes… You were asleep. The realisation hit him hard. He’d pleasured himself to thoughts of you more than once before. He’d also promised himself that he wouldn’t do so again now that you lived together. Then again, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt… him.

Swerve’s interface panel opened seemingly of its own accord. He gritted his dentae together, slowly angling his head to see you, all wrapped up in blankets; the small sound hadn’t bothered you, you didn’t even stir.

Swerve grabbed hold of his already pressurised spike, pumping at it quietly, sensually. He shouldn’t be doing this. Seeing you asleep in a cute poodle tank top should have made him feel worse, he should be guilty watching you and sure a part of him was; a miniscule part which went easily ignored. The rest was more aroused; you were right there, in front of him.

He shut off his vocaliser seconds before a loud moan erupted; going this slow was torture as much as pleasure. As he rubbed his spike with one servo, he used the other to circle around his valve, finally inserting only one digit in; it was his smallest digit and the closest he had to imitating you.

If you only opened one eye, you’d see him in all his disgrace. You’d probably be disgusted, maybe even hate him. Instead, you were stuck in a deep slumber, oblivious to what was happening only feet away.

Before sharing a hab-suite with you, Swerve masturbated to various fantasies varying from fucking you over his bar, to being tied up while you dominated him; each scenario was wilder than the last and he could still see your underwear around your ankles as if it had been real.

Now however, he couldn’t see you as some exotic fantasy; not this time. You weren’t screaming his name. He wasn’t using toys on you or making you use them on yourself. He wasn’t imagining whether you could take the full length of his spike. No, this fantasy was different… tamer. In it, you were cuddled up on his lap, while the two of you told each other future hopes and dreams. It wasn’t a fantasy of lust but of love. Swerve couldn’t fully comprehend his feelings for you as his cooling fans blasted and an upcoming overload jumbled his thoughts but as he jerked off into the final stages of an overload, he loved you.

Looking down at the mess of trans-fluid covering him, Swerve wasn’t concerned with cleaning up the mess or making his cooling fans quiet down. He was even more aroused than before; he’d done it and you hadn’t woke up. He had to do it again.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Reminiscences Ch.2 Trixya-Scoobert

Katya POV

I sat down on the makeup chair, a little rattled by this makeup artist. She was a bit awkward but I have to admit kinda cute. When I first met her she looked like she’d seen an evil spirit or something, but she eventually fell into a sweet, kindly mood, fitting the name I’d previously given her, Barbie. As I thought of the doll I’d owned as a child, I could seriously see the similarities.

I waited for her, swinging around on my chair and fiddling with my fingers. I loved my job as a model but honestly it was kind of repetitive being painted by makeup artists all the time and using clothes other people picked out. In my own time I adored using kooky patterns and items that most people would shake their heads at. Some fashion designers admired my creativity, but honestly I’m probably better up on the runway. Ever since high school it’s been a great way to build up confidence and earn some money at the same time. I often worry and feel self conscious but seeing all the smiling people and being around such a bustling happy atmosphere makes me feel like I have a sense of purpose.

Trixie returned and started on my face, rubbing in some primer and dabbing away with foundation. Usually the artists tried to make some meaningless small talk but Trixie looked completely focsued on her work and rubbed the cream right into my pores. Either she wanted the makeup to last for a few years or she was thinking about something hard. When she got ready to work on my brows, I ended up staring directly at her eyes, it would be weird to look down or to the side, she’d know I was avoiding her, so I just looked straight ahead as her brow furrowed, trying to draw the individual brow hairs with perfection. Her eyes were so beautiful, they were a bright, intense blue, like those Greek oceans with perfectly white crystalline sand running across their edge. Those eyes they reminded me of something, what was it?

Flashback

I walked out into the courtyard with my lunch, making my way over to my usual table with my friends. I was just about to wave over at Alaska who was sitting and gossiping with the usual bunch, when I looked to the side to see a pair of vibrant clear blue eyes looking over towards me with a sense of longing and sadness. We made eye contact for a few seconds before he quickly turned his head to focus on his lunch instead. I looked over at my friends who seemed to be deep in discussion about Ginger’s new car. My limbs made their way over to the boy and I sat down on the concrete next to him.

He looked up at me startled but I avoided eye contact and like him before, focused on my lunch in front of me. We sat here for a time until I spoke up. ‘Hey, I’m Katya by the way, we always ride our bikes together but I’ve never actually really met you before huh, do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?’

I looked over in his direction and he finally looked up smiling with a sense of hope.

‘Ah no of course not, I’m Brian by the way,’ he said shyly.

‘Cool, so what kind of music do you like? Personally I love Backstreet Boys, Nirvana and Green Day, they have awesome rhythm and I love sitting in the park listening to them and…’

I was cut off, slightly alarmed by his little giggles and the small smile that formed on his lips.

‘What, not into music huh? Fine then, what do you like?’

‘No, no I love music, but those bands are junk!’

I smiled, glad that he was actually talking with me and seemed to be enjoying it. ‘Well then, any suggestions, Mr. laughing at my music?’

‘Well Depeche Mode, Blink-182, U2 have some awesome rock music, but if you really want to get into it have a look at AC/DC, Guns and Roses. I have to say though, Sex Pistols are my all time favourite, try listening to them.’

‘Wow thanks, I’ve never heard them before, sounds cool, maybe you can show me sometime?’ I looked up smiling and I knew that was the right move. As I looked at him I could see a hint of pink poking out from under his jacket.

‘Ooh pink shirt?’He quickly covered it up and turned the other way.

‘Oh um I mean, I think it’s cool, wear whatever you want if it makes you happy!’ I exclaimed quickly. He turned back around slowly with a sad smile. ‘I wear the weirdest clothing so I don’t think I’m really one to judge’

‘Uh thanks,’ he looked over and let his jacket go slowly. ‘My stepfather hates it when I wear this sort of stuff, says I look too much like a girl’

‘Hey I don’t think it really matters, personally I like girls and boys and I don’t think clothing should define you at all.’

‘Really?!’ he smiled hopefully and I felt good being able to make him happy.

‘Yeah of course, disregard what your stepfather says, be who you really are.’

‘Well I would but my mom really likes him and I don’t really want her to see him any differently, especially if that means he’ll start acting like he does when I’m alone with him.’ I shuddered slightly and glanced over at his face, I could see a slight purple tinge on one side of his face which had been covered by concealer or something.

‘Oh shit, are you okay, did he…’ I glanced down at my uneaten food, suddenly not feeling as hungry.

‘Yeah he really hates it when I act girly and always calls me a ‘fucking Trixie’ and thinks I’m going to bring disgrace to him and his manhood or whatever, he gets really angry and thinks because I’m not actually his child he can treat me however he wants’. Woah, I had no idea this boy I ride with everyday had such a deep story. I felt kind of sorry for him.

‘Wow, I’m so sorry you have to deal with that, my dad isn’t like that but at the moment I’m constantly being given from one parent to the other. They’re fighting in court and neither of them really want to deal with me and my ‘bisexual tendencies’ once the divorce happens.’

‘Well it seems we’re in similar kind of situations. Thanks for sitting with me today by the way, it was really nice talking to you, I hope everything works out.’

‘Yeah no problem, it was nice to finally let it go, most of my friends don’t really want to hear about my problems or anything ‘too depressing Katya, lighten up’ or whatever.’

‘Well I’m here anytime you want to talk, no one else really wants to hang out with the weirdo kid.’

I laughed at that. ‘Well maybe I just happen to like weirdo kids, we’re not so different really!’ I replied as the bell started to ring. We both packed up and started in the directions of our lockers. When I walked inside I looked back to see Brian doing the same thing and our eyes met, smiling at one another and the connection we’d made in that small time period.

As I was packing my books for math, Alaska perched on the locker beside me.

‘Hieeeeeeee Katya, where were you at lunch? You missed all the drama about my boyfriend Aaron and I, we’re back together again by the way,’ she cooed in her deep drawn out tone.

‘Ah yeah sorry I just had some stuff to catch up on.’

She moved over closer and stroked the side of my face before resting her fingers on my chin and turning my face to hers.

‘I really hope that’s true, because I missed you and I really hope you’ll be there tomorrow. We have a lot to catch up on.’

‘Yeah yeah, sure thing’ I said, still trying to avoid her eyes.

‘Hmm okay, see you later girl’ she said as she walked away, winking at the boy whose locker was a few down from mine. God she was annoying, but I liked smoking with her after school and at least when I hung out with her I felt noticed, special, accepted. Unlike being at home with one of my parents. They just ignored me and pretended I didn’t exist. Besides I’d seen what she’d done to people that had got on her bad side and I didn’t reaaaally want to be in that position. She could be extremely cruel when she felt like it.

‘Get out of my way, you fucking Trixie, we don’t need any lady boys around here,’ I heard her slur from down the hall. I turned my head around to see the boy Brian from earlier being pushed to the side by Alaska and quickly turned my head so he didn’t see me.

End flashback

I’d zoned off while the artist, Trixie, had been doing my makeup. High school hadn’t been the best time for me but I’d gotten off okay by having influential friends like Alaska and Ginger. I still hung out with them sometimes but they’d definitely changed a lot since high school. They listened to me now and were less ‘all about that gossip girl’. Alaska had broken up with her high school on and off boyfriend Aaron and Ginger had a nice long term partner. We caught up from time to time and it was nice to see where they were at.

This girl though, was it possible she was Brian from high school. It couldn’t be, that boy had always seemed so shy and timid besides the fact that he was a BOY for gosh sake. But then again, those eyes, they looked exactly the same.

‘Okay, I think we’re all done here Katya, you look amazing, if you don’t mind me saying,’ she said, smiling ecstatically waiting for me to come out of my weird daze I was in.

I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection. Wow, I thought, this girl is truly talented. She’d turned my skinny little face into one of beauty and glamour, ready for the runway. As I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes couldn’t help but trail off to reach into Trixie’s fresh, shining orbs. It had to be him, that memory was too vivid in my mind to forget. But then, this girl, seemed so happy and cheerful, he had always sat at the back of class in an aura of despair.

‘Okay Katya, let’s get you changed into your dress, Fame’s given me this for you to hop into, it’s quite tight at the back though so I might need to help you zip it up if you don’t mind.’

‘No no of course not’ I replied in a daze.

I pulled off my slacks and shirt I’d previously been wearing and slipped myself into the dress. I felt Trixie’s warm hands glide up my back along with the zipper. My skin shivered as it reacted to her touch.

‘All good here?’ Fame, the girl that seemed to be in charge questioned, walking past.

‘Yup, let’s get you on the runway Katya, you’re all ready to go. Good luck Sweetie’

‘Thank you!’

‘Come on you have to smile’ she said giving me a giant grin for example. I’d been so focussed on my memories I’d been thrown out of my usual pre runway mood. It probably wasn’t even him, I don’t even know what happened to Brian, we hadn’t really talked after that day.

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #fluff #au #hurt/comfort #tw abuse #tw transphobia #transgender character #scoobert #reminisences #rpdr fanfiction #submission #trans character #lesbian au

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psykertroll-blog · 7 years

Text

Que Sera Sera

FFN AO3

Summary Ch 1 Ch 3

Chapter 2 - Walk Like a Man

Korriban, 3642 BBY

Coruscant was burning. Starfighters flew high in the sky, blasting everything into dust. Imperial troopers marched upon the city world as his fellow Sith culled the last remaining Jedi. The Jedi Temple was all but destroyed, but Arthur was still there. He was still alive, but not for long. Alfred found him leaning heavily on a pillar, his blood seeping to the ground. He tentatively reached out for his love as he made the first step, but Arthur slashed his mask into pieces. They then danced together in combat until Alfred vanquished his Master. He loomed tall over Arthur, and the Dark Side thrummed through his veins as he bent down to land the final blow-

Only to find that he couldn't do it. He could never do it, not in a million trillion years.

Alfred was too weak-

He awoke in a flurry of motion, shooting up from his bed. He sat, breathing in ragged, heavy gulps as he clutched at his chest.

It was that dream again.

Every year without fail, Alfred would have the same visions.

To this day, he ruminated over what he had done. Or rather, what he should have done.

Instead of ending his Master as a true Sith would, he kissed him. The sensation of Arthur's mouth pulsing against his excited him to such a degree that the very Force itself curled around them, surrounding the two in it's loving embrace. He could still feel its lingering touch seeping into the waking world.

The connection allowed Alfred to feel Arthur's presence, and even though they were separated from each other by thousands of light years, Alfred wouldn't be surprised if he found Arthur sitting right next to him. He fell on his back, staring up at the ceiling as the wispy strings holding their minds together slowly but surely went away. He knew that Arthur had that very same dream. He felt his struggle, his rushed, frantic pull as his Master tried to escape his grasp...

Oh, he would kill to see Arthur once again, right at that very moment, squirming beneath him-

"Bzzing! Incoming message from BANTHA FODDER, I repeat, incoming message from BANTH-"

Alfred flung his arm over his head. "Ugggh. Fucking Ivan! Can't that bastard wait for five minutes? Tell him I'm BUSY!"

The service droid bleeped incessantly, poking at Alfred's foot. "But sir, it is labeled as URGENT, do you really want me to disconnect the call?"

"No, no, don't do that." Alfred lightly kicked at the droid, groaned, then flopped out of bed. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands as he mumbled, "Just come over here. Open the line."

The droid bleeped a "Will do, sir!" then switched on it's holoprojector.

There, the infuriating sight of Ivan's face came into view. "Greetings, Comrade! Did you sleep well?"

"It was nice until I saw your disgusting face." Alfred scowled, sending a death glare in his rival's direction. "This call better be for a good fucking reason, otherwise I'm going to rip your head off when I fly back to Dromund Kaas."

Ivan smiled and simpered, giggling. "You are such a grumpy bear when you wake up in the morning, Alik. I suppose you can't sleep in everyday-"

Alfred's eye twitched. "My name's not Alik, you moof-milking sow. I'm not in the mood for any of your shit today. What the hell do you want?"

"Oh, Alik, you have such a way with words. They may not be well-formed, but at least you try, yes?"

"You have until the count of three, then I'm going to cut the call-"

"Oho, but wouldn't it be such a scandal if I were to tell Darth Yao that you cut off direct orders from him? It would be so terribly tragic if he heard that, fufufu."

He clenched his fist. If only he could stab his lightsaber deep into that smug bastard's chest. "Why would Yao use you to give me orders? He usually calls me if he wants to talk." Alfred narrowed his eyes in suspicion. This couldn't mean anything good.

Ivan snickered as he playfully wagged his finger. "That's Master Yao to you, Alik. Anyways, our dear Master has made the both of us a proposition, if you will. You see, we are to work on a special project together! Won't that be such fun?"

Alfred gave Ivan a deadpan look, then snorted. "Really? Oh joy, oh rapture, I can't hardly wait. Ivan, dare I ask, what exactly is this 'project' of yours, and again, why the hell wouldn't Yao-"

"Master Yao."

"Grr, why wouldn't he just call me directly? These are, according to you, direct orders."

At that, Ivan's smile grew into a wide smirk. "Do you really think that our Master has the time to deal with the likes of yourself?" He looked down his nose at Alfred. "Since your last task was a complete disaster-"

"Hey, I still got the fucking holocron on Alderaan, which is more than what you can say, asshole."

"Ah, yes, you did indeed get the holocron, but at the expense of two bakeries, one bank, three ships, and our cover. Who did you think had to clean up your mess, hmm?"

The twitch in Alfred's eye intensified. "Last time I remember, you didn't exactly help. In fact, I distinctly recall you standing right there in the midst of the chaos, chocking out some poor old Twi'lek-"

"Who would have blown our cover even more than you already had." Ivan tilted his head, eyes wide in childish glee. "You have such an active imagination, Alik, but regardless, as sad as I am to say it, the galaxy is not your playground. Hence the reason why I'm calling you. I am to make sure that you don't screw up like you did before. This project is very important to Darth Yao, and it would be so upsetting if you were to fail once more."

As Ivan went on, Alfred found that he grew more and more annoyed with his babbling insults. His knuckles grew white as his fists clenched ever more. "I'm sure you would be absolutely heartbroken, Ivan, but that still doesn't explain what exactly it is that we're supposed to do. If Yao wanted us to work on this 'project' so badly, then why didn't he tell me to stay on Dromund Kaas?"

His rival leaned back in his chair, and with a smarmy laugh, Ivan set the path in motion for his murder. "Heee, don't you get it, Alik? The entire reason you're on Korriban is to keep your grubby fingers out of the delicacies of the mission. Darth Yao has found that you are too... blunt a tool to use for the more intelligent aspects of his work. Some would say that you are, indeed, too inferior to live, but our Master is a merciful one. He has decided that you still have a use, and so you are to do the simple work of gathering a few key items for the ritual while I study the holocron. I sent a list of the items to your precious droid, so you should be able to see it-"

"Ivan."

"Yes, dear Alik?"

"I'm going to kill you. Painfully."

"How sweet of you to say so. Goodbye, Comrade."

With that, the holoprojector switched off, and Alfred flew into a rage.

A wide berth appeared outside the market square as the angered mutterings of a Sith passed through the crowd. He was holding up the remains of a mangled datapad before he tossed it into a trash compactor.

"So he thinks he can send me off on some fucking scavenger hunt, huh, like I'm some damned wet-behind-the-ears Acolyte?! Yeah, yeah, and while I'm doing all the work, fucking Ivan gets to schmooze it on up in Dromund Kaas and take all the fucking credit? And for what? A teensy weensy little ritual, one I don't even know about?" Alfred stomped down the street. The very air around him was sizzling, warping his ill will unto reality. "Well Yao's got another thing coming to him! This is the last straw, the last fucking straw! It's always been Ivan this and Ivan that. Hell, for the past eleven years it's been 'Oh look at how smart Ivan is, how strong he is, he truly is more of a Sith than you, aru', but no, no he isn't, because when I'm through with him-"

"Through with what?"

Suddenly, a pale, red-eyed albino approached him. He was wearing the garb of a smuggler, and what looked to be an egotistical smirk.

"Gilbert, is that you?" Alfred gaped, slack-jawed in his shock before his previous fury disappeared completely. "Ahahaha! I never thought I'd see you again!"

The albino bellowed out a laugh, then hooked his arm around Alfred's neck and smushed his hair with his fist. "Keesee! What are you, blind? Of course I'm Gilbert! Here I'd thought you'd remember the little people, but no!"

"Oh puh-lease, you bastard, I'd never forget your creepy ass." Alfred playfully flipped Gilbert away from him, then pointed at him, smiling. "It's impossible for me to repress that hideous thing you call a face-"

Gilbert punched Alfred's arm in response. "Ooh, sick burn. I'd really feel that one if I didn't realize that you're just trying to compensate for my pure awesomeness."

"Ahahaha, that really hurt, you fucker." Alfred winced as he held his arm. "I see you still pack quite the left hook."

"And I see that your muscles are even less awesome than they were in the war!" Gilbert chuckled, then held his hands behind his back. "So! What the hell are you doing here, you fuck mothering Sithlord?"

Alfred then remembered what he had been so very angry about, and grumbled in frustration. "Pheh. Typical bullshit, you know the drill. What the hell are you doing here, you cocksucking Imp? You still in the Imperial Army?"

"Ah, no. The pay sucked ass, so I left the 'troopers for some nice smug- er, I mean privateering digs." Gilbert leaned in close, whispering in Alfred's ear. "Speaking of, you wouldn't happen to know where I can find some of the good stuff on this planet, would you?"

Alfred pretended to think it through, and scratched his chin. "Hmm. It depends. If you're planing on stealing anything for your 'privateering' needs, I'd say you're shit outta luck. It would be suicide to even consider knicking the dirt, and that's not including all of the damned tombs around here. Even you couldn't survive for long before you'd get caught up in a trap. At least, not without someone who's Force-sensitive."

Gilbert jumped back in mock surprise. "The awesome me? Steal? Who do you think I am? I'm but a traveling merchant, humbly trading my wares-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, save me the spiel, asshole. Come on, I'll buy you a drink. We'll talk it over then." Alfred slapped Gilbert on the back, who howled an "Excellent!" before they both wandered into the nearest bar.

#que sera sera #chapter 2 #hetalia #star wars #swtor #usuk #aph america #aph england #aph russia #aph china #aph prussia #jedi arthur #sith alfred

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yohanes-magic-circle · 5 years

Text

Digital Disguise: Chapter 4

(Impatient? Don’t like reading fics on Tumblr? The whole thing is up on AO3 now. I hope you enjoy it!)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

By all measures, Yoshiko Tsushima should have been miserable as she walked through the front door of her family's apartment. She'd got her English test results back that day, and they were only just a step above failure. It's not that she hadn't tried to improve. Inspired by Mari's random outbursts, she'd asked for help, but even when she could be torn away from her duties as the school's director, she didn't end up being much use. It turned out that mixing Yoshiko's tendency to slack off with Mari's lighthearted nature and love of joking around was a recipe for very little actual studying to take place. What's more, she was struggling to nail the timing for Aquors' new dance routine – she was always half a step ahead or behind, and attempts to correct the problem always resulted in overcompensation. Nobody was holding it against her, but she knew she’d need to get it together before the preliminaries.

Despite all of this, the first-year student was wearing the kind of smile that suggested that she didn't have any troubles at all. “Welcome home,” came the habitual greeting from Yoshiko's mother. She wasn't expecting her greeting to be welcomed with a cheery “Hi!” from her daughter, and didn't have time to react before Yoshiko's customary retreat to her bedroom. It wasn't much, but it was nice. Having worried about Yoshiko's social skills throughout middle school, her mother credited Yoshiko's good mood to her school idol activities – making some less eccentric friends was the best thing that could have happened.

Thankfully for Yoshiko, her mother didn't know the truth – Yoshiko was in fact grinning from ear to ear entirely because of her weirder interests. School wasn't the only place she made friends, after all. Yohane Time mostly earned Yoshiko fans rather than friends, but some of her more regular viewers had earned their way into what she liked to call the “inner circle,” a small group that she considered to be friends. She'd ask about what was going on in their lives, entirely in character of course, and always made sure to prioritise them for fortunes and rituals. They didn’t know much about the real Yoshiko, but they seemed to like Yohane, and every time she considered just not streaming, it was the mental vision of their disappointment that caused her to think twice.

Quitting hadn’t been something that Yoshiko had seriously considered for a couple of weeks, though. Lately, it seemed like she might be gaining a new friend by the name of Musashino, and when you cut to the core of it that was what was behind Yoshiko's good mood – she was streaming again tonight, and that meant another chance to interact. This newcomer had shown up about four weeks ago, and hadn’t missed a show since. They’d quickly found their feet amongst the regulars in the chat, and while their messages were a little slow, they were always interesting. (Was that down to a laggy connection or slow typing speed? Yoshiko couldn't tell.)

When viewers had been asked what Yohane needs, Musashino had responded with “a demonic familiar,” and Yoshiko most definitely wanted a pet. When another viewer had asked what kind of film a Yohane movie would be, they had already suggested it’d be a tragedy before Yoshiko had even been able to address the question – that’s certainly how she preferred to characterise her rotten luck, even though in reality it tended to lean more towards slapstick comedy. One time, when someone began to question Yohane’s fortune telling as being far too giving for a being from the netherworld, Musashino had leapt to her defence by noting that Yohane hadn’t become a fallen angel by choice – clearly somebody was paying attention to the backstory – and that she still had kindness in her heart. As Yohane had talked of the celestial conflict that would herald the end of days, Musashino had been fascinated (and even taught Yoshiko a new word – eschatology). It seemed as if this person was really on Yohane's wavelength.

Yoshiko already considered Musashino as part of that special inner circle, one of the little demons she held dearest. In fact, she was quickly coming to consider Musashino as her favourite, and she was incredibly pleased that they seemed to be just as committed to viewing her stream as she was to hosting it – it wouldn’t be the same without them any more. Whenever she found herself zoning out in class, it was inevitably Musashino that she ended up thinking about, largely because she was curious as to what this person was like outside of their interest in Yohane. Their messages didn't give much away as to their real life, though. Even the name was impenetrable, though Yoshiko assumed that it was a rare detail pertaining to their offline persona – most people chose something meaningful, even if only to themselves. She’d seen a train line with that name when she visited Tokyo once. Maybe this person lived in that area? Maybe, if she could get her mother to tag along for safety, they could even meet? Yoshiko ran over the scenario in her head. “Hey, can you take me to meet my friend from the internet? They’re a fan of my streams and I don’t know anything about them.” Yeah, that’d go down a treat. Without anyone to ensure her safety, Yoshiko reluctantly reasoned that meeting up was probably not such a great idea.

Glancing over at the clock, Yoshiko could see that it was getting close to stream time. She began to prepare the scene, shutting her curtains, lighting candles and changing into her fallen angel clothes. Tonight, her plan was more interactive than usual – the idea being to learn more about her viewers, or at least how viewers saw Yohane. The last thing she did, as always, was uncover her webcam. She was still trying to separate Yoshiko and Yohane, and she’d decided that the best way to do that was to ensure that the two worlds never met – Yoshiko’s schoolmates should never meet Yohane outside of Aqours shows, and Yohane’s online fans should never see Yoshiko. One stupid error with the cam would be all it would take to ruin that, by revealing what was in truth a pretty ordinary bedroom.

With a deep breath and a click of the mouse, Yoshiko became Yohane.

“Gathered in the dying light, a congregation of the wicked, awaiting the angel whose beauty so angered God that she was cast out of heaven. I will grace you all with my presence, but you must know that summoning Yohane is a dark bargain indeed. In exchange for my protection, I require evidence of your devotion. Little demons! You entered into a contract with me, and now an offering must be made. So tonight, my sinful servants, I ask of you – what will you bring to appease me?”

Yoshiko watched as the responses came flooding in.

any1 got sum crosses? Ill hang em upside down I can sacrifice another goat. 1000 BLACK FEATHERS! we can mail you a letter Tabasco sauce and something with cayenne peppers

Truth be told, she had hoped her viewers would be as imaginative as she was. That first one was too stereotypical, the second she hoped was a joke… dull, bland, tasty. Wait, tasty? What the heck? And there they were again – Musashino had sent that suggestion. It was an odd one. Yoshiko definitely had an appetite for spicy food, and she’d genuinely like those things as gifts, but that wasn’t something she’d ever brought up during Yohane Time before.

“Musashino, you make an intriguing suggestion,” she said, trying to figure out her mysterious fan’s motivation. “Why do you believe these items to be a worthy gift?” Yoshiko was struggling not to break character, and the anticipation of the inevitably delayed reply was not helping one bit.

Because the heat would remind you of Hell, and I think you’d like hot food

Well, that was certainly a plausible in-character explanation, and it was the best of the answers – or at least, the thing Yoshiko most wanted at that point in time. It was still an odd one, though. “Congratulations, little demon! You have stumbled upon one of the ways to Yohane’s blackened heart,” she conceded. After verbally assessing some of the other suggestions, she decided to change the subject. “And what sort of place would you all pick to make your offerings to me? Choose wisely!”

a ruined church! How about a sauna? They’re hot like Hell too. letz go 2 onsen heh heh HOW ABOUT AN ARCADE? Why not Tokyo?

These suggestions were definitely better than the last ones, minus the onsen one which earned the idiot a swift banishment from the chat. The ruined church would definitely look amazing and have the right ambience. The sauna one, they were at least trying – although they might not have been so blatant about duplicating Musashino’s reasoning. An arcade would be nice, but was more of a Yoshiko answer than a Yohane answer. And, last as usual, Musashino’s answer.

“Allowing me to demonstrate my demonic powers on your mortal games would be terribly foolish,” she declared. “What would the glory seekers do when faced with the insurmountable obstacle of Yohane’s high scores? And Tokyo… another strange suggestion that has earned my interest. Musashino, are you perhaps a fellow user of magic?”

Again, Yoshiko couldn’t deny that she’d like to visit Tokyo. She was always drawn to the city more than the country, and besides, you could get everything there and there were some amazing stores selling occult goods. If she could go for her birthday, which was coming up soon, she’d be pretty happy. Again though, that’s a Yoshiko thing, more than a Yohane thing. Musashino’s reply had come through.

I’ve heard it’s a city stained with sin, a place of true terror. That sounds like a place where demons would gather.

Yoshiko couldn’t fault the reasoning, but this time it was even more suspicious. She was sure she’d heard someone say something like that before. It was a silly notion, of course – Tokyo was amazing – but she couldn’t dwell on it long as some of the other users quickly began to mock Musashino.

Did you know Osaka is the gateway to heaven? musashino are you from the past? LOL I BET YOU BELIEVE IN HANAKO-SAN IN THE TOILET

“Enough! With so many people in Tokyo, it is easier for demons to blend into the crowd. If Musashino is fearful of the grand metropolis, they are fearful with good cause! And that is all the more reason to offer this lost lamb protection.” The fallen angel had surprised even herself with this stern rebuke, as she didn’t often have to deal with a rowdy crowd. Some of the apologetic comments that followed suggested that certain viewers quite liked Yohane’s unusual disciplinarian outburst, though mercifully they stayed on the right side of the creepy line.

“Now that you’ve calmed down, my little demons, I shall express my desires – with this information, you will be able to make the ultimate offering to Yohane,” Yoshiko began again. “Though the material temptations of this lowly world are truly enticing, my true wish goes beyond such trivial objects. When one of my little demons is in danger, I would even display my true powers to see that they come to no harm – and as my little demons, I expect you all to get along. If you are to descend with me, you should be loyal to me and everyone who descends with me,” she continued. It was a sentiment delivered as Yohane, but it came from Yoshiko’s heart. Her efforts to be more normal at school, her joining Aqours, all of that effort was made because the thing Yoshiko wanted the most was to have good friends. “So even in times of great danger, when the divine and the damned finally clash, will your loyalties waver or will you stand behind Yohane?”

I’ll be standing shoulder to shoulder with you! ill stand behind yohane I WOULD DIE FOR YOU Your wish is my command

Yoshiko was pleased to have everyone back on the same page. “Very well, you have pleased me. Now, I will open my magic eye and reveal the secrets of your futures,” she said, bringing things back to a place where she firmly controlled the dialogue.

After a good half hour of fortune telling, it was coming time to wrap up. “It is almost time for this tragic beauty to retire to the shadows, but I leave you with a warning,” Yoshiko said with all the gravitas she could muster. “Those of you that have made this contract tonight must abide by it. Failure to perform your duties as a little demon will see you banished to the abyss!” The stream ended and for the first time in a while, Yoshiko was pleased to finish up. That one had ended up getting pretty weird between the onsen creep and the goat sacrifice.

Still thinking of weird things, Yoshiko was drawn back to Musashino – were they an esper or something? She couldn’t quite believe how well judged those offerings had been as she scrolled back through the chat. Then she got annoyed all over again as she got to the section where people turned on them. These people were wrapped up in a fallen angel’s stream and they made fun of someone for having some slightly odd thoughts on Tokyo? Yoshiko thought it somewhat ridiculous. She couldn’t help but defend Musashino, as they had become one of her favourite little demons. Still, she’d managed to sort things out by insisting on solidarity amongst her little demons. It brought a smile to her face as she read the declarations of loyalty again, but… where was Musashino? She scrolled back up.

I’ll be standing shoulder to shoulder with you!

For the first time she could recall, Musashino had been quicker to respond than anyone else. Not only that, they’d gone further to affirm their loyalty than anyone else. Who was this person?

Yoshiko was too tired to consider the matter any further. As she switched her light off and went to bed, she decided that she’d have a better chance of figuring it all out in the morning.

#Love Live Sunshine #YohaMaru #YoshiMaru #Yoshiko Tsushima #Hanamaru Kunikida #Yohane

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