#shaperaverse fanfiction

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

I wrote a Jill/Marjolein Daemon au! My His Dark Materials phase has finally paid off. It's a compilation of four short snapshots, basically just me yeeting as many posthuman Daemon au headcanons as I can in there (Someone ramble with me about this I beg you)

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

All of those winter prompts look amazing. But if you're feeling creative, can I ask for number 8 with Jill and Michael? Please 🥺

Thank you so much for the ask! (Also anyone reading this, feel free to send in more winter requests from THIS prompt list (or any other random prompts with Shaperaverse characters) if you would like. It might take a couple days but I'll get to it probably)

(Ao3 link) (I'm sorry I angsted the prompt, I couldn't help it :( )

8. Eating gallons of ice cream despite the cold weather.

He couldn't stop staring at her. He didn't think he'd ever be able to stop.

It felt like a dream, wandering down the streets of a narrative they had been in so many times before. Jill looked so much older, her brightly coloured hair starting to grey, the wrinkles on her forehead so much more pronounced than they ever had been before.

So much more pronounced than Michael ever thought they would get to be, when he'd lost her after the war.

Yet, after all this time, here she was, laughing by his side. He had expected awkwardness, to be blamed for her imprisonment, or for not freeing her sooner, or for the years apart to take their toll, driving a wedge between them. And…

And she hadn't. Jill clung to his arm for warmth, like she always did when the narrative had a chill and she refused to put on a jacket, claiming it would ruin whatever outfit she had made for herself that morning (Not that it had stopped her from insisting they get ice cream together — for old times sake, of course — and the frozen nature of the bag was certainly adding to the cold). Nothing had changed, apart from the tightness Michael held her with, as if the hellscape would somehow snatch her back if he let go for even a moment. It would be all his fault again.

“You alright, Michael?” Jill asked, seeing his expression. Michael nodded, at first, as he had always done when someone asked him that, before turning back to Jill, the many, many conversations they had once they got back home playing in his mind, and shaking his head.

“I'm glad you're back.” He said, for what must be the hundredth time since the rescue mission.

It didn't compare to the million times he had missed Jill in the last decades. Nothing would.

Jill gave a sad smile, pulling him onto a nearby bench, her hand pausing for just a moment over his metal arm, as it always did.

“You know,” Jill said, the tone of her voice clearly trying to lighten the mood, give Michael something else to focus on. To tell him stories, as he used to do to distract her when lonely thoughts got too much. “They didn't have ice cream in hell.”

Michael blinked, as Jill pressed into his side, bringing the bag onto her lap, and pulling out the ice cream. It was the wrong season for shops to sell cones, but, as Jill had delightedly claimed, that hasn't stopped them from buying multiple tubs and spoons, determined to have their feast.

“What?”

“It would just melt.” Jill shrugged, casting a hopeful glance to Michael. Her strategy seemed to be working, if the glint of a curious smile.on his face was anything to go by. “Now… Triple chocolate with chocolate chips? Cookie dough and strawberry jelly? Strawberry and raspberry whirl with whipped cream?”

“...What is it with you and over-elaborate flavours?” Michael asked, taking one of the tubs at random.

“Trust me, these are very tame compared to what some narratives have in store.” She said, handing Michael one of the spoons, before prying open her own tub, and stuffing a spoonful in her mouth.

A moment passed in silence, until Jill made a face.

“Oh, that's cold.”

“Brain-freeze?”

“Mhm.”

“Would you like my jacket?”

Jill smiled, closing her eyes in contentment. “Who needs a jacket when you're basically a hot water bottle?” She dug her spoon into Michael's tub, taking an equally big portion, as Michael wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

He really had missed this.

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

Lloydven thing I made for an au week event on NADS for the prompt of soulmate. How did I turn this into angst about Lloyd losing his world? Who knows.

It wasn’t going to happen. Lloyd had accepted it as soon as he stepped out of his narrative with Jill and Michael, as soon as he watched his whole world destroyed in front of him, as soon as he fell into this strange new land where everything he thought he knew was spun around and left to tumble in nausea.

And yet… And yet the timer on his wrist still ticked down.

It wasn’t even the worst of his problems. The fact that they didn’t know what they were doing, the nightmares he had almost every night, elysium, the world-eating gnomes that seemed to be dead set on destroying them, were far more pressing issues than a stupid soulmate counter that he was half expecting to start going haywire with how fluid time was, but still…

Maybe Lloyd had been stupidly hoping that the timer meant they would find their way back to reality soon, or at least, find a way to reliably eat and drink and bathe. It had been a good way to keep track of time, he had to admit, but they all knew it wouldn’t last for long.

The others didn’t have anything like it. He’d had to explain the concept of soulmates meeting each other when the timer fell to zero to the others - They’d had to explain the concept of soulmates as a whole to poor Michael, who hadn’t grown up hearing about it in stories like the two girls. Jill had pressed a hand dramatically over her heart, declaring it to be romantic, but Lloyd had shrugged, and tried not to look away. In all honesty, he was surprised Jill and Michael’s meeting hadn’t been preceded by a timer.

But whether a soulmate would’ve been romantic or platonic or anything else… It didn’t matter any more.

They had died when the rest of Lloyd’s world did.

When the rest of his family, his friends, his life had. When any pretense Lloyd had of normality had.

And now, as he watched the mark on his wrist that was sometimes a set off numbers, sometimes the hands of an analogue clock face, and sometimes a ticking down hourglass with the weirdness of level five finally reach its last legs, he bit his lip and choked down tears.

They were in the middle of a rehearsal, nowhere near proficient enough to jump out just yet. Nothing was going well. They were all starting to lose hope. Asha watched it tick down from beside him, lying her head on his shoulder while Jill and Michael kept hopelessly trying to manifest their props in front of them.

He was distracted from the countdown finally reaching zero by a large crash on the wall, something falling down…

And as the others exclaimed in surprise, discussing what to do, he looked out the window. At the man trying to rise to his feet on the ground outside, who had smacked straight into their tower.

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

Shaperaverse Promptober Day Three - Teddy Bears

(Ao3 Link)

(Content Warnings for major character death, assumed character death, and minor blood)

Son Mi clutched her teddy bear in small, strong hands. One foot in front of the other, she'd keep walking. She'd keep going. She'd find her pa again. He was just around here. She could hear his sobs, faintly, even if they were getting fainter and fainter, no matter which direction she wandered.

Her pa had given her the bear, and she'd had it as long as she could remember. Dragging it around place to place, first experience to first experience, terror to terror. She didn't want to be scared. She tried to put on a brave face - like her pa did, when he was upset and thought she didn't see. The tunnels she had found herself in were strange - odd and colourful. The hues were pretty, like the pictures her pa had helped her colour, or the stars in the sky on a warm summer night, but they weren’t the same. Her pa didn’t grip her hand tightly and tell her to be really, really careful over some paintings. Her uncle Lloyd wouldn’t be wary because of reflections of the moon, or painted, watercolour clouds.

She hadn’t seen what made her uncle scream and push her away, into the vivid, iridescent tubes, but something told her she had to keep going. At least she still had her bear, even if she couldn’t tell what she was walking on.

The bear was brown and red. She didn't remember it being red before, but the understandable words were comfort to her when the colours around her turned unrecognisable. At last, she screwed her eyes shut. Even then, the sound of her pa’s cries, his screams, had turned to rushing wind that threatened to sweep her away, just like it had swept away her uncle. She couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t find her way back. She couldn’t take another step in this place, when the only solid thing was the bear in her hands, and she was tripping, falling over something she wouldn’t be able to put words to if she could perceive it. Into even brighter colours, that seemed to shine through her eyelids.

She dropped the bear in her terror, but as quickly as the colours had started to scream, they fell silent. As she opened her eyes, she wasn’t met with narrative tubes or voids of backstage or strange scratches in time. Instead, she saw tall buildings. A city. People. People who paid no mind to the child who had fallen from the sky.

Her terror turned to curiosity, surprising even her, and she stood, gazing through the streets with big eyes and a tiny step.

..

Michael begged. He screamed and called and pleaded, but still she wasn’t there. She wasn’t cowering behind a narrative tube, hiding from the Scratch. No watchtowers were in sight, like Michael’s bedtime stories had promised would give safety if she was ever lost. But she couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t be- She couldn’t- Lloyd had pushed her away. Lloyd had died trying to save her. He had to have succeeded-

And then he saw the abandoned teddy bear, the one with tattered fur, matted with Lloyd’s blood, and mismatched eyes Michael had tried his best to sew back on, and he dropped to the nonexistent ground and wept.