#it's me i see your vision op (i am actually plagued by my own vision brought upon by a jarthur coded clip of belle and beast arguing)

[squircatlies]

I've been thinking of the same thing, honestly kinda surprised at the lack of fanworks with that au. I mean just the entire premise of a protagonist being stuck with a monster that wants to become human... like that's just the plot of Malevolent minus the horrors.

A beaty and the beast malevolent au, I think the library scene would be funny cause Arthur would still be blind here like:"wow that's a great...room, i'm sure whatever's insides intresting"

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 84

Somehow I managed to get this chapter written, despite a pinched nerve that left me, essentially, on bed rest for two days.  I keep telling myself I need to make a buffer of chapters, but my life has decided not to cooperate...

I hope everyone out there is staying safe and healthy. Where I live, we are currently under a stay-at-home order, and my company (essential) finally got us up and running to work from home this past week. So I at least have that, and I’m aware how fortunate I am for that.

As always, my inbox and ask box are wide open, so feel free to drop me a line.  I love interacting with people on a normal basis.

Somewhat more disturbed than usual, I left Xiomara’s office with Charly in tow.  I was about to let her know she was okay to head home when I realized I didn’t really have a choice - Xio made it very clear that I needed an escort with me at all times.  Conor was still at work, Tyche stayed behind with my fellow Councillor, and Maverick was likely off work but at home.  Charly, however, was right here and one look at her face let me know she was taking her new duties seriously.

“I can call GK,” I tried in vain.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ emphatically. “I have a job to do, and ulterior motives. Ninja grandma isn’t taking my spot.” I arched a brow in inquiry, and wasn’t left disappointed. “Ma’am. Suspected cult leader? Attempted viking overlord? And this person clearly has it in for you? Do the guys know? Does Derek know? Hell, does Arthur know?”

“Why do I feel like Arthur outranks my actual partners in that list?”

“He was a warlord, and apparently your bestie in a past life? Stop stalling and talk. Start at freaking cult leader?”

“Alleged.”

“Sophia Michelle, I swear to - “

“That’s not my middle name.”

“And that’s not the point!”

Well, I tried. With a sigh, I surrendered to the inevitable.  “A bunch of people have been acting suspiciously lately, all over the Ark.  Anti-social, darting eyes, hushed whispers, all that stuff.  Tyche and I thought it was just us, until Noah and I were walking one day and a group of them just plowed into us.”  I stopped and ran a hand through my hair anxiously. “If it had happened even a week earlier, I would have just shrugged it off and been done.  The issue was this.” I tapped my temple emphatically.  “Tyche insisted that I get the proximity update to my implant, to avoid being triggered by people walking into me.”

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” she shrugged brightly.  “Not like I didn’t notice… I can’t exactly sneak up and hug you anymore.” She scowled comically.

I let a small smile creep onto my face before continuing. “Right. Well, this was a group of about eight people.  They either all ignored the alert, or somehow turned it off.  We - well, Derek and Zach - are still trying to figure out which it was. Either way, it was a cause for concern, so a bunch of us brought it to Xiomara. We suspected it might be a cult, so Grey was also consulted.  They agreed there was a possibility, but pointed out we need inside information. Jokull Bjornson, recipient of your feral tendencies, is our best guess for the leader if it is a cult. So, Xio said she would look into it, but essentially told me that anyone associated with me would be out of the loop.”

“So why is Tyche…?”

“I don’t knowwww!” I whined in frustration.  “And it’s not like she can tell me, so I can’t exactly ask, because I don’t want her to feel bad, right?”

“Ugh, that sucks,” she agreed.  “And you have no idea why this guy hates your kidneys?”

“Eyeah, as far as that goes? You know as much as I do, and I know that isn’t much right now.”

She shrugged before bouncing on her toes. “Don’t worry.  I’ll talk to Coffee, he’ll probably agree to shadow you some of the time.  And it would be from a distance, so you wouldn’t feel like a kid being walked to kindergarten.” When I looked at her, skeptical, she shrugged again. “He likes you.”

“He’s spoken maybe four words to me,” I pointed out.

“And yet, you understand him.  That means he likes you.”

My mind reeling, we made the rest of the way to my quarters with small talk.  However, when we arrived, Charly refused to head home until she saw Maverick and the door closed behind me.  I swear, I get confronted once…

“Why did Charly look like an attack marten?”

Nuggets. “There was an incident today,” I groaned before peeking up at the ceiling. “Miys? Were you recording in Xiomara Kalloe’s office between 1800 and 1900 subjective ship time?”

“I was not, Wisdom.”

Figures.  Special ops of whatever flavor Xio had been did not lend well to being surveilled.  “Okay, thank you.” I looked back at Maverick.  “I don’t want to explain this again, so give me a second.  I was recording, because I knew this would happen.”  After some fidgeting to isolate the conversation in Xio’s office, I flicked the file over to Maverick.  “It’s audio only, but it at least saves me some time.”  I left him to watch it while I wandered into the food prep area for a drink.

I managed to swallow my second sip of wine before an angry shout came from the living room. “What the hell!?” was followed by Maverick striding into the kitchen and checking me over. “Were you hit? Did he fucking touch you?”

My arm was tangled in my shirt before I was able to stop him. “Mav… Maverick.. Babe! Stop! I swear, I’m fine.  Even Charly is fine - “

“Charly being fine is Coffee’s concern - “

“But we are both okay,” I finished.  “I swear, he didn’t even touch me.  Charly shoved me out of the way before he could.”

“I’m gonna - I need to get Conor, we’re gonna kill - “

“Listen to the rest of the recording,” I begged.  “He didn’t just walk away, I promise.”

After a couple of deep breaths and another glance to make sure I was okay, Maverick nodded. “I’m going to play this entire thing when Conor is home, probably after securing him to something that is bolted to the deck.”

“Well, that’s one way to keep him from flying off the handle,” I mused.

“Uh huh,” he replied sardonically, not even a bit fooled by what I was implying. “I don’t think even that is going to distract him.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“I think French toast has a better chance.”

“Gotcha.  French toast and lots of restraints.”  

That got a laugh out of Maverick, and he finally let go of my shoulders.  While he shot a message to our third to skip the overtime, I started getting ingredients together for a hearty breakfast-for-dinner meal.  We managed to time it just right, so the main dish came out of the oven just as Conor was finishing his shower.

Any hope that we even partially fooled him was dashed right after he sat down and saw the spread.  First he grinned, then got serious, and one glance at the broiled tomatoes gave it away.  “Neither of you like those,” Conor pointed to the offending dish with a whine. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”  He glanced at our expressions before sighing and filling his plate.  “Alright, what gives? Another plague?  Ship stalled in space? Lost forever in subspace or whatever?”

“Something happened today,” I ventured carefully.  “I sent Maverick a recording, and he can play it if you want…”

To his credit, Conor held up one hand while he shoveled a piece of French toast into his mouth as fast as he could chew, quickly followed by one fried egg and two pieces of sausage. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Got enough to make sure I’m not reacting on an empty stomach.”

“I just ask that you listen to the entire recording, no matter how bad it is at the beginning?”

He sighed again, held up his hand, chugged a glass of milk.  “Okay. I will do everything in my power to sit right here and not touch anything fragile or talk until I hear the whole thing.”

I really couldn’t ask for more than that, so I nodded to Maverick. Once he pulled up the audio recording, we sat tensely until it finished.  The only sounds outside of the record were Conor grinding his teeth and both men clenching their hands tightly enough to pop the joints.  Their expressions were a kaleidoscope of emotions, finally settling on determination when they heard Xiomara insist that I have an escort until further notice.

Snagging seconds of everything, Conor nodded to Maverick. “Us, Tyche, apparently Charly.. You think that Farro bloke?”

“He would,” Maverick agreed, digging into his own now-cold plate of food.  “Don’t forget Grandma Kim.” Conor pointed emphatically with his fork at the suggestion.

“Wait, what are you two doing?” I sputtered.  “Putting together a hit squad?”

“Ach, no,” Conor dismissed my suggestion.  “Escort detail.  If we wanted to take the fucker out, we’d leave it to Tyche and Farro and be done.”

“Not you?” I was so confused.

Maverick shook his head, gesturing with one finger between the two men. “We would feel guilty and regret it, probably the rest of our lives.  Those two, especially with someone who is endangering you again?  Probably would sleep better the night they did it.”

Conor nodded enthusiastically. “But I’m rather fond of your sister, and the Farro fella is alright I guess, so I’d hate to see them sedated and popped out an airlock at FTL speeds.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. I expected to have to calm them down, not to see them make such merciless decisions so quickly. “Um. In that case.  Charly said she’d talk to Coffee about shadowing me some of the time?”

I jumped when Conor hit the table with one hand. “See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about! We’ll keep you safe, Sophie… Aw, shit…” He jumped up and knocked the chair over as I dissolved into tears.

My eyes were closed so tightly that I actually lashed out as arms circled around me.  It was only when a smooth cheek pressed against my own that my body recognized it was Maverick and surrendered to protection.  Vaguely, I could hear Conor speaking, but just enough to register that it wasn’t directed at me, so the words just didn’t register as important.

When I finally calmed down, I was curled tightly in a ball on a soft surface, black hair obstructing my vision.  Maverick’s voice was speaking, an almost-chant that was soothing me. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe. I’m right here…”  I realized he was rubbing me briskly, alternating between my arms and my legs.

With a sniff, I lifted my head.  “I’m sorry,” I started.

He shushed me. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured me.  “It was a tense situation, and you expected one of us to get angry, so when Conor hit the table, your body didn’t realize it was a cheer and not anger.  You just heard someone you expected to be angry hitting something. It’s okay.”

“Conor…?” I started to ask, not able to make the words go.

“Not mad,” a voice from the door assured me.  When I wormed my way to see his face, Conor was sitting on the floor, back against the door frame.  “As soon as I saw your face collapse, I realized what I did.  I’m sorry, Sophie.  But I swear I’m not mad. Or upset, or disappointed, or any of those things that your mind is trying to over-pick at.  I just feel like an idiot, that’s all.”

“You’re not a idiot,” I insisted.

He grinned. “And you’ll defend me to your dying day, I think. But I should have been more mindful, and I will be. I swear. No loud noises when Sophie’s nervous - it isn’t a huge request.  I can leave the room, just like when I’m mad, right?”  That grin never lost its sunny nature, and I knew he meant it.

He stood to come over, and I felt Maverick’s arms tighten around me. “You upset her again, I’m going to knock your lights out,” a voice warned over my shoulder.

“I’d let you do it, mate,” Conor replied sincerely, holding out his hand.  I reached for it, but he merely squeezed my fingers before reaching further.

He wanted Maverick’s permission, I realized. Not just mine.  Tension flooded what I now realized was our bedroom before Maverick finally took Conor’s hand.  “I mean it,” he insisted with a warning tone.  “Do better, or I’m going to knock you out every time you, personally, upset her.”

“Someone should,” Conor agreed sincerely.

“Violence is not the way to handle this,” I sniffed. “There’s a learning curve, but it’s pretty steep with all the anxiety on the ship right now.” Wriggling so I could see them both, I tried to muster a stern look. “Episodes like this are going to happen. We’re just going to have to learn, together, how to navigate them.”

“Still, no loud noises when Sophie’s nervous.”

Maverick nodded. “That definitely seems like a good starting point.”

I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

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[fan-art-ic]

@interstellarvagabond had this hella great fic idea for our Sophomore Jack au (@sophomore-jack) and so we stayed up till 2am creating this beautiful mess of stress.

Hope you like.

TW: Hallucinations, Cursing, Disassociation

“So, I saw ya skipped class again today,” Scottie said in a suspiciously casual voice.

Jack narrowed his eyes and looked up from his bed. “…yes?”

He hoped Scottie would drop the subject soon, so he could stay safe in his fortress of blankets. Unfortunately, this did not happen.

“And breakfast, and lunch, and the class after that,” Scottie continued, pausing to make an intrigued humming noise. “I see a pattern here, laddie.”

Really, no shit Scottie.

“Well that is what tends to happen when one doesn’t feel well,” Jack turned away toward the wall. Maybe if he tried actively ignoring Scottie the questioning would stop.

“You’ve been feeling unwell a lot lately,” Scottie said. His pointed tone was not lost on Jack. He considered telling Scottie to simply fuck off, but he was trying to be better than that. Trying not to be…he wanted to be a good person. He really did.

Inhale, exhale, breathe.

“Well,” Jack began and sat up, “it is unfortunate that my studies are suffering, but this bout of sickness will pass in time. Plus,” he raised an eyebrow and spread his hands out, “what would you have me do? Go to the nurse’s office?”

Checkmate.

“Well, not exactly,” Scottie said. “The nurse’s office is for people who are actually physically sick, laddie, and I got a feelin’ yer illness ain’t so physical.”

Okay, note: don’t play chess.

Jack grinded his teeth, feeling them scraping against each other almost painfully. The muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Scottie, I truly appreciate your concern, but my well-being is not something that you should trouble yourself with.”

“Well maybe if ya stopped being so troubling!” Scottie was pacing now, not anxiously but more like a cat ready to pounce. Or at least, so it seemed to Jack. He found he could not often trust his perception of things these days.

Scott halted and whipped around, pointing a finger at Jack. “Jack, you’ve been a mess ever since the beginning of the year. Last year ended with ya relatively mentally okay, but it seems ya not only backtracked, but ya slid miles backwards-” Scottie’s voice got louder with each word. “-and if ya don’t get help soon, I’m not sure what’s going to happen!”

“You are not my therapist,” Jack reminded his friend in a sharp tone.

“Aye, and a good thing I’m not,” Scottie came over to the bed, staring Jack down. “I don’t have the training or the knowledge. But ya know what I do have?” Scott sat down about a foot away from Jack on his bed, “I do have a set of ears.”

Oh my god that is Too close.

“You seem to use your mouth quite a bit more.” Jack edged away from his friend ever so slightly, hoping it would not look as if he was retreating.

It did.

“Jack, ya can’t run from me, laddie,” Scottie said. “Ya can’t push me away, though I know yer sure as hell trying.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. Why would someone continue to associate themselves with someone that caused them so much pain and aggravation? Why was Scottie still here? Still trying to drag his sorry ass out of bed? Still trying to give the murderer redemption?? Still trying to be his friend?

What a fool.

How could Jack even have friends now?

Sticking his nose where it does not belong. This is my business.

He didn’t deserve a friend who would care so much for him even after all he’s done.

“I’m still here, laddie,” Scottie said, noticing that Jack’s mind had gone miles away. Jack felt his blood grow hot.

Unfortunately.

“Are you just gonna sit in bed all day, runnin’ away from yer problems like some ninny?” Scottie asked, his voice harsher than he meant.

“Stop…” Jack muttered.

“This isn’t Ryou Sakai, the honor student, ass-kicking, friend-helping, health-advocating, gym rat, respect-giving friend I used to know!”

“I told you to stop!” Jack growled, his head was spinning. It felt as though a million wasps were stinging at his skin and buzzing in his ears, there was too much at once.

S T oP sT oP STOP S T O   P.

“The Jack I knew would be ashamed to see you here,” Scottie didn’t want to be cruel, but he knew Jack would just shut down if he kept pulling punches. He had to get a reaction, had to make him see.

Excuse me?

Jack screamed, a wordless primal yell, and lunged for his friend. Jack in his sophomore year, eating regularly and training everyday, had been near-lethal when he wanted to be. Jack in his junior year, starving, sleep-deprived, weak, plagued by hangovers…

His punch almost comically bounced off Scottie’s barrel chest. Scottie raised a ginger eyebrow, not sure if he was unimpressed or severely concerned, as Jack just proved his point.

“Ya see?” he said, gesturing to where the punch had landed. “That’s not a Jack punch. Remember when ya taught Malik how to throw a proper punch? Yer worse than he was back then.”

Scottie took a deep breath. If Jack was too emotional for words right now, then they’d settle this with a brawl. “Now this, this is how ya throw a punch!”

Wha- Scottie’s punch smashed into Jack, sending him sprawling across the bed. To Jack, it felt like he’d just been hit by a train. In reality, Scottie hit him softer than he did when they would play-fight last year.

fUCK.

Jack surged back to his feet, not a graceful fluid motion like he’d been taught by his father, but a jerky grappling with his own body and the bed in a desperate attempt to right himself. He tackled Scottie, somehow managing to push the larger boy back a few inches.

Jack started a barrage of punches, each one growing faster, angrier, weaker. He gave a near-incoherent scream. “Why won’t you leave me!”

“I’ll leave ya be when ya don’t need me,” Scottie said, putting Jack in a headlock.

“No!” Jack said. “Not leave me be…leave me!”

A scream tore itself from Jack’s throat and in a surge of desperation he broke free and scrambled off the bed and onto the floor. He stood, his head dropping, hands weakly in fists. Each limb looked as if it was suspended from a marionette string.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw again the vision of himself. The him he used to be. The blue phantom that stood taller than him, stronger than him, better than him. Judging him.

“Why…. won’t….. you just…. leave….” Jack gasped as he swayed. “Why do you stay…when I am this?”

What does you w a n t from me?

Jack gave a small, broken laugh as he gestured at himself and then at the phantom. He stared imploringly into Scottie’s eyes, not even registering the fearful concern growing on the other’s face.

“Perhaps he stays because he lives here? You’re just a burden to him. You’re the one who should leave.” his other self hissed, taunting him. “Oh, wait, I forgot, you live in your bed now don’t you? Pathetic.”

Jack weakly waved a dismissive hand at the hallucination, as if he could make it disappear.

“Who’s there now, laddie?” Scottie asked, looking at the empty patch of air that Jack kept glancing towards.

“The Ryou Sakai you miss so much,” Jack said, his voice both angry and heavy with the tears beginning to drip down his face.

Jack felt a wet drop on his hand and looked at it, startled, and raised the hand to his face.

Huh, he was crying.

“You can’t even have a conversation without bawling about it like a dumb baby?” The blue image flickered and got in his face giving a snort of disgust.

“How disgraceful.”

Like a flame, it contorted until the facial features no longer resembled Jack. At first, it was just a warped image of himself, but a new face began to form.

It was the man he killed, it was the woman he let die, it was his father staring down at him with eyes that burned like embers.

The blood from that childhood memory so long ago dripped down his face.

“Our actions are what define us, my son,” Jack’s father rasped. “And your actions define you as a murderer.”

A m u r d e r e r.

Jack sank to his knees, his throat too raw to scream again. He didn’t know when he became aware of it, but suddenly he was leaning against Scottie. His friend was trying to right him from his rag-doll limpness, but Jack did not want to stand and face himself. He wanted to lay down and sink through the floor through the building through the dirt and sink forever never stopping and I can’t breaTHE-

“Jack, yer hyperventilatin’.”

Jack gasped wildly for breath, eyes flying open and tears springing forth. He clawed at Scottie’s arm and the ground, grasping for a tether.  Scottie grabbed Jack’s clawing hand, as if he knew what it was Jack was looking for.

Jack still scratched the carpet weakly and Scottie grabbed the other hand and gathered Jack in his arms, holding him tightly. The pressure calmed Jack, instantly flinging him back into reality. He could feel his breath evening out, albeit slowly.

Jack inhaled deeply and held it for almost a minute. He exhaled heavily and his shoulders shook as Jack burrowed his head into Scottie’s chest.

…fuck….

His whole body felt limp and light, it was as if he could float away. His cheeks were still tear-stained and he could taste salt on his lips.

“How do ya feel, laddie?” Scottie asked.

“…you never said, why you stay,” was all Jack found he could say.

Please tell me.

Scottie sighed and shifted his hold on Jack, holding tighter. “You’re my friend, Jack. Friends help friends. Isn’t that enough?”

“How can you still call one such as I your friend?” Jack asked. “How can you still look me in the eyes and feel anything but disgust, anger…or fear?”

Or hatred?

Scottie looked down, incredulous. “Sure I get angry when ya don’t eat or disgusted when ya don’t have a shower in a week, but fear? Not with those kitten punches.”

When Jack didn’t laugh Scottie sighed. “But seriously, laddie. I’m not afraid of you because I know I can trust you. You can trust me too, ya know.”

Trust……

Jack stiffened and nearly pulled away, but was too weak to break from the hug.

“No ya don’t laddie, I want some god-fucking answers we didn’t do this so you could fuck off,” Scottie pulled him back in, ensnaring Jack.

Jack groaned and gave up any attempt of escape.

“This isn’t a short or pleasant tale,” he warned. The cautionary had little effect as it was muffled by Scottie’s shirt.

“It’s not a story I’m lookin’ for, laddie” Scottie said.

Jack glanced up with dread pooling in his gut. “What would you like to know?”

“Well we can start with ‘are you going to leave the room today?’ or ‘when did you last eat?’ but mostly what I wanna know is are you going to be okay?” Scottie asked.

Jack gave a small huff. “I do not know, I do not remember, and that is a very complicated question, my friend.”

“Don’t re- don’t know??” Scottie rolled his eyes, but his exasperation seemed to be a mask for concern. “Okay, how about this, can I remind you to eat and sleep and bathe every now and then? Without ya feelin’ like yer privacy is being invaded?”

Jack gave a breathy laugh. “I would not object to that.”

“Sure ya say that now, but ya were objecting quite a bit earlier!” Scottie teased.

Jack gave an indignant nudge with his head.

The pair sat in silence. Unlike earlier, it was not a tense or oppressive silence, but a comforting one where both individuals are momentarily content.

Of course, Scottie was the one to break the silence.

“Did ya at least enjoy hitting me?” Scottie asked. “I know you’ve been wanting to do that a lot lately.”

Jack chuckled. It was small, quiet, and half-hearted, but it was enough of a laugh to make Scottie smile hopefully.

“I think I hurt my hand more than I hurt you,” Jack said. “I really have…” he trailed off, thinking about what he had become.

“Been slacking on the protein? Aye, but we can fix that.” Scottie winked. “There’s this amazing thing called ‘eating’ I’ll show you sometime.”

“Perhaps after I discover this amazing thing called ‘showering’?” Jack suggested with a half-smile.

“Or the miracles of shaving!” Scottie laughed.

“You do not like the beard?” Jack asked, feigning a wounded tone.

“Ya look like ya have a drowned wild rat on yer face,” Scottie said. “I was more afraid of it than you when we were fighting!”

Okay, fuck you.

Jack glared at his friend, but he could feel his spirits lifting as their banter took on its usual light-heartedness.

He looked back to his bed, the dual fortress and prison he had been hiding in for so long now. Jack could feel a weight in his stomach that told him this was not the end of things. No, he could not punch or hug away all of his problems. However, he felt more secure in his friendships. He could at least stay close to the people he cared about without feeling guilty or afraid he was losing them. Maybe that was a start.

Jack stood, ignoring the blue flickers in the corner of his vision.

“Ya feel better, laddie?”

Jack looked down at his companion, at Scottie. A man two years his senior who had only been kind to him throughout this whole ordeal and hadn’t complained once. Jack’s friend.

Jack gave a tired, but full smile. “I do. Thank you.”

Scottie stood and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That’s good to hear, Jack.” He pulled them in for another, shorter hug.

A start to what, Jack wasn’t sure.

But it was certainly good.