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the-possum-writes · 2 years ago

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Can I please get some hcs of Finn, Fern, Bonnibel and Marceline (separately) with a gender!neutral human reader who gets found in some kind of stasis pod in an overgrown underground bunker from the mushroom wars, and when they wake the reader up it turns out the reader was put in stasis near the end of the mushroom wars and now has to adjust to a radically different world? And after a few months of helping them get used to things the reader asks if they want to go on a date sometime?

Waking up from Stasis Hc

❥Characters: Finn, Marceline, Princess Bubblegum

❥Tag: Mentions of war and death, SFW, Gen!neutral reader, angst & comfort, human!reader, headcanons

❥A/n: Sorry for the wait! Gonna keep this limited to Finn, Marcy and PB due to my 3 characters per request rule. Hasn't been proofread, i wanted to get this one out as soon as possible ;w;

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

Intro.

It was like sleeping any other night if it wasn't for the weird dreams. They were continuous, vivid and bizarre enough to the point you forgot about the real world where you can't fly nor talk to animals, eventually the memory of raid alarms and gunfire stoped bothering you as much as they used to as you enjoyed living one dream after another like a movie marathon.

But eventually all dreams, just like movies, come to an end.

When you wake up its like you're being splashed with a bucket of cold water, you're clutching your heart while gasping for air as bright lights burn the cornea of your eyes like pepper spray.

"Are they still alive?" one voice asks.

"Just barely, we'll need to transport them to the hospital."

Is what you manage to understand before you black out for moment, this time there were no dreams keeping you company. When you woke up you finally understood the situation you were in, with your memory slowly coming back to you in short bursts. The room you're in is plain white with weird machinery connected to you through thing tubes and suction cups, beside you is a young man with bright blue clothing. "Hey, you're up." he greets you after noticing you open your eyes.

"Looks like it, yeah... does this mean the war is finally over?" you ask which gained a confused expression from the young man.

"...War?"

Bubblegum

❥Princess Bubblegum is in charge of your well being the next few days, she'd walk in and run some tests and ask you simple questions but she'd only gain "Yes" or "No" responses from you.

❥She was the first to assigned you some professional help, talking with someone to let out all your confused and emotional turmoil.

❥"Your health has been improving." PB brings up during one of your medical check ups.

"So has my mood, it's not easy moving on but I know my family would want that for me." you motivate yourself, earning an awknowlodge nod from the princess.

❥Once you're out of bed you finally have a chance to properly marvel at the Candy Kingdom, from its candy residents to its sweet smelling architecture."You built all this? And everything is made of candy?"

"Sure is, you can take a bite of anything is you like."

"Even you?" you joke.

"Ha, ha very funny." PB huffs sarcastically.

❥Bubblegum is a busy woman but you still tail coat behind her like a baby duckling, either helping her as an assistant for her science projects or joining her for royal tea ceremonies.

❥After a year has passed and you felt comfortable in your new home did you feel confident enough to ask PB an important question. "You're gonna over work yourself again Peebs, how about I invite you to dinner at a restaurant?"

"Just bring it up to my lab, having company would be nice."

"Yes boss!"

Finn

❥Turns out the young man has been keeping watch over you for almost two days, refusing to leave your side until you woke up. Maybe it's because you're the only other human (besides Susan) in Ooo who he can relate to, or he's just that nice of a guy.

❥Once you woke up he was ecstatic to learn more about the world you lived in, what kind of monsters could you slay? What games or comics were available at the time? But Finn soon realized you weren't up to reminisce about old times. "My family... They didn't make it did they...?" you'd start weeping.

❥He gave you space to sort out your feelings due to Pb's request. Whenever Finn was relaxing at his own home he often found himself thinking about you, trying to get in your shoes and understand how he would feel if he suddenly woke up and Jake wasn't with him.

❥The next time he came to visit you he brought a get well basket with a bunch of snacks and his favorite comics, however some of them were half eaten because him and Jake got hungry on the way there, his heart was in the right place but his stomach wasn't. "Hey, I'm glad you made it here though. I appreciate it." you'd tell them.

❥"How's the recovery going?" he'd ask, curious to know since there's less equipment checking your vitals compared to the previous times. "It's going steady, Princess Bonnibel says I'll be out in no time."

Finn gets close to you, making sure there wasn't a wad of gum nearby. "Between you and me, she's a great medic but she's also very serious about it. She had me swallowing horse sized pills without a second thought pfft."

"Yeah, she be like that."

❥"Do you know what you'll do when you get out?"

"I have no clue, although PB suggested I'd get used to the outdoors."

"Then I have the perfect spot."

Then Finn would proceed to take you to visit weird kingdoms, some made of fruits and others made of breakfast, it's amazing experiencing such things with Finn by your side.

❥He'd always talks about the adventures he goes on like something out of a legend, it's tempting to go on one with him but he says. "I'll have to teach ya how to use a sword."

"Well sign me the fluff up."

Marceline.

❥Seeing Marceline for the first time is kind of scary when you first woke up. Mainly it was due to so many vampire monster movies.

❥She'd ominously float near you one day, when you were still down in the dumps after learning the truth. "I was there." she says all of a sudden, dry and blunt.

"What?"

"I said I was there, when everything went down. You managed to sleep it off in one of them bunkers, you didn't have to see your loved ones leave one by one. Consider yourself lucky."

The reason you were scared of her the first few days was because of the way she looked at you, with those dark red demon eyes.

❥Marceline would keep the whole "paralysis demon" kind of approach the next week. You'd wake up in the middle of the night to see a flash of her nocturnal eyes before she vanishes. You're unsure if she's haunting you or not, when asking PB about it she says "Marcy probably wants to talk to you but isn't willing to open up yet. Just give her some time." she'd shrug it casually. You would shrug it off too if it wasn't because it feels like you'll get a heart attack everytime you see Marceline's eyes.

❥It's like treating a cat. You wait for her to come to you. Eventually once you got out of the hospital and settled up in the candy kingdom, Marceline woke you up with the music from her guitar, she didn't give you that hard look and instead floated near you in a relaxed position.

❥Despite her personality and appearance she's surprisingly the most understanding of the three. As you soon came to find out she was a witness of the early days of the war, it was almost therapeutic talking to her about it.

"The smell of plane fumes was a pain in the buns, I remember I would spread lotion under my nose just to distract me from it." you'd bring up.

She would carry her bass with her and slowly playing a few beats. "I used to tied car refreshers to my forehead." she cackled.

❥The two of you bonded over music, she'd play a melody from back in the day and you'd tell her the details. "Ah I recognize that one, it was a good single."

"Really? I've had stuck in my head since I was a kid but I never knew the rest of the song!"

"Well, consider yourself lucky" you snarky repeat the same phrase she told you when you two met, receiving a pillow to the face.

#adventure time x reader #finn the human #finn the human x reader #princess bubblegum x reader #Marceline x reader #marceline the vampire queen #princess bubblegum

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the-kr8tor · 4 months ago

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Oil burns are the worst I HATE THEM SM.. The "whoa spider be upon ye" made me giggle way to much Daily Hobie HC! This one has mentions of my personal infection when the song red sex was popular/the infection trend. The moment Hobie heard that you had been bit, he felt his entire world collapse. Hobie pulled you in close, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears in the dim light of your bunker. He reaches up to pull away your face mask, wanting to kiss you again. His face completely falls when you decline it, not wanting to infect him as well, to have him endure the pain that you're going through. But Hobie couldn't live without you in this hellish world. What would be the point if he lost you? You weren't far from stage 4 of the infection, already showing immense breathing difficulties. You began to distance yourself from Hobie's, who's heart broke every day. He just wanted to feel you against him for one last time, but you were already drifting away before he could ever reach for you. Tears welled in his eyes everyday, yet never fell. He tried to stay strong for you, but he didn't want to. He wanted to break down and hug onto you tightly, to beg for you to just let him hold you one last time, but he didn't. His words were stuck in this tightening throat, trying not to let the heavy tears fall. Day and night, his mind was occupied with the loving memories of you two before everything happened. Every night, Hobie curled up in bed, reaching out to your side of the bed, now cold and empty, not even a sliver of your usual aroma present. It was just him, alone. But the day that you never returned was the day the bunker became more colder, and Hobie's tears finally fell. He fell to his knees, tears rolling down his face and dropping into his lap as he uncovered a box filled with pictures of the two of you. Dates, anniversaries, just silly things like how you'd snap photos of him sleeping like 'a Victorian woman', you used to say. Or how he used to snap photos when you weren't ready. You used to say how you weren't photogenic, but you were in his eyes. Not sure what to do with himself, Hobie decided to take a walk out in the apocalyptic world. If he dies, oh well. The world keeps spinning..but for him, it stopped a while ago when you told him you were infected. Gearing up very loosely, with only knuckle wraps and a gun, he ventured out, trudging through the overgrown grass as his mind replayed one of his favourite memories, his jaw clenching while he sobbed silently. While he was walking, he heard a sound. Immediately, Hobie ducked behind a large boulder, listening out to determine if whatever is out there gets closer..that is, until he heard your hoarse voice calling out for him, your speech slurred. Although he knew it wasn't you, his body reacted quicker than his mind, instinctively standing up and blowing his cover. You looked like death. And your distinct, bone wings that had grown out from your shoulder blades signified that you were at the point of no return. It just got worse for you from this point on, and he knew it would. Hobie panicked for a moment, not thinking straight as you lunged towards him, your last bit of consciousness wanting to feel his warmth one last time, but he quickly put a bullet through you before he or you could even blink. What had he done? He lost you completely, and it was his fault. -🐦‍⬛

Ouch! Put some burn cream on it so it doesn't worsen

😂 woah___be upon ye is my favourite thing to say lol

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

NOOOOOOOO POOR HOBIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I love apocalypse AUs the angst is top notch

Fr made my heart ache the second Hobie saw r wandering around 🥲

I bet R took one of the pictures so the last thing they saw before they fully turned was Hobie's face without actually endangering him 😭

The wings made me gasp! It's not your average zombie infection 😯

Nuuu he ended it :( I can see him just frozen afterwards until he realises what happened

#ask answered #chatting with lovelies #hobie thoughts #hobie headcanons #daily hobie hc!!#🫶🫶🫶#apocalypse au #🐦‍⬛ anon

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artist-emerald · 11 months ago

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Branch to the Future

It was another sunny day in Trollstopia, and Branch had decided to pay a visit to the Funk Troll sister scientists, Rhythm and Blues, or R&B as they prefer to be referred as. He admired their funky ingenuity and groovy inventions, but never got a real chance to get to know them and appreciate the work they do.

Branch: "Thanks for having me over, R&B. It's nice to get to know more Trolls with a spirit for craftsmanship. Even if your work is much more advanced than mine."

Rhythm: "No problem Branch! We're happy to have you!"

Blue: "And we don't want to think of our work as 'more advanced', just, funky!"

Rhythm: "We're actually glad you visited today! We need help testing out a new machine of ours!"

Branch: "Oh yeah? What kind of machine?"

Blues: "A time machine!"

Branch: "What!? No way, that's impossible! You two have made some pretty awesome stuff, but I can't believe you made a time machine."

Rhythm: "That's why we need help testing it! It is only theoretical after all. Who knows if anything will even happen!"

Blues: "Absolutely right, my dear sister! Now, let's get testing!"

R&B led Branch to a small metal pad on the floor. It was hooked up to a nearby console with large, colorful cables. They gave Branch a pair of safety goggles as they put on some for themselves. They then began hitting buttons and switches on the console, causing the machine to whir to life.

Rhythm: "Now, dear sister, how far do you think we should send him?"

Branch: "Not too far! Poppy and I are meeting for lunch this afternoon!"

Blues: "Ooh, lunch with the girlfriend? Okay, Branch we won't keep you too long. 20 seconds should be good."

Rhythm: "Sounds good! Setting parameters now! You ready Branch?"

Branch: "Ready as I'll ever be!"

R&B pulled a big switch on the console, surging power through the machine as lights and sounds filled the chamber. Suddenly, a spark came from the console, and then the pad that Branch was standing on. Before any of them knew what was happening, a bright white flash of light went off, and Branch was no longer on the pad.

R&B celebrated to themselves, thinking that the machine had worked and that Branch would be reappearing in the spot he left, only 20 seconds from when he left.

So they waited.

And waited.

But the 20 seconds were up, and Branch didn't come back.

Worry flooded the sisters' heads, "oh no."

Branch rubbed his eyes after the flash had gone and everything went quiet.

Branch: "R? B? Did it work? Hello?"

Once Branch's eyes adjusted, he looked around and found everything was old, decayed, and colorless. Dust covered the floor, plant overgrowth had covered the machines, and silenced loomed over the air.

Branch: "What happened? Something definitely went wrong."

Branch made his way out of the Funk Trolls ufo, but what he found outside took him aback. It was quiet, desolate, and not a single living soul could be seen. Like the ship, the forest had lost it's color. The standard walking paths were overgrown from the forest. Branch made his to Pop Village. There had to be someone, anyone still here. Someone who had to know what was going on.

As he made his way through the dense foliage, a mist began to settle in, obscuring his vision even more. He began to call out for his friends, for his brothers, for Poppy. He found only remnants of what was left of Pop Village, of Trollstopia. Everything was broken, run down, and abandoned, being overtaken by the forest, the dust, and the mist.

Branch then remembered his home, his bunker. If anyone was around and safe, it would have to be there. He made his way to the main entrance, but before he could head inside, he was met with rustling in the brush behind him.

Branch: "H-hello? Who's there?"

A shadow leaped from the grass, releasing a battle cry as it stood in-between Branch and his bunker's entrance. It held a toothpick as a spear, readying to strike.

???: "I thought I told everyone to stay away! To leave me alone! Who are you!?"

Branch looked carefully at the shadow as he stepped back with caution. He gazed through the mist, peeked through the cloak that the figure wore. He could swear he recognized that voice.

Branch: "Poppy? Poppy is that you? It's me, it's Branch!"

The figure pulled back it's hood, tall and frizzled hair erupting from it. It was Poppy, but she looked older, distraught, and gray. She looked at Branch up and down, eyes full of sadness and fear. Branch held out his arms, expecting a warm and loving embrace, but it never came.

Poppy: "Branch? No. No no no not again. I can't be having these hallucinations again! Why won't you leave me alone!"

Poppy swung the toothpick at branch more like a blunt object instead of a piercing weapon. Branch caught it in his hands. He looked at Poppy with worry.

Branch: "Poppy. It's really me. I don't know what happened, but I'm here!"

Poppy was frozen. The toothpick slipped out of her hands. She felt her arms shake, her knees give out of weakness, and a heavy pain rise in her chest. As she kneeled in front of Branch, staring at him, she couldn't hold back her tears. She wept, she reached out her arms to embrace her lost love. Branch rushed over into her arms to console her.

Branch sat with Poppy for what felt like ages to him. He stayed with her, letting her get all the sadness and grief out. Her gasps of breath in-between each sob started to slow as she steadied.

Poppy: "I missed you Branch."

Branch: "I missed you too. But, I need to know what happened."

Poppy wiped her face as the two stood up, and she led them into the bunker. She told him everything.

Poppy: "You never came back after R&B's experiment went wrong. They told me what happened, and they said they'd do everything they could to bring you back. But nothing ever worked. I came by every single day, hoping and waiting that you'd come back. That I'd see your adorable face again. Hear your beautiful voice again. Embrace the love of my life again."

Branch was speechless.

Poppy: "Time moved on, but I couldn't. Soon, I began to ignore my duties as queen. Everyone tried to cheer me up, to make me feel better, and to help me move on but I couldn't. Then dad died. Viva took over, and I shut myself away in your bunker. Then...there was a huge disaster, and everyone else was gone. I lost my colors after that, and I've kept myself alone since."

Branch: "Poppy. I'm so sorry. I would never hurt you like this. The machine, it was an accident!"

Poppy: "20 years, Branch. You were gone, for 20 YEARS!"

Branch had never heard Poppy raise her voice like that. Not with that much hurt, or anger, or malice. Almost like...hate.

Poppy: "I never blamed R&B for their machine. And I never blamed you for helping them out. I put all the blame on myself, as queen."

Branch: "I never thought it would go this way if something were ever to happen to me."

Poppy: "Of course, Branch! You're my best friend! The love of my life! The anchor that keeps me grounded! Losing you, it was like a part of me."

Branch saw the inside of the bunker. It was a mess. The walls and floors cracking, trash and broken jars spread about the place. And there on a table was a small basket, with a round stone painted to look like a Troll egg.

Branch: "Poppy?"

Poppy: "And now that you're back, it's just going to be you, me, and the baby."

Branch: "Poppy, listen to me. I know you're hurt, but this isn't healthy. We can fix all of this! We just need to find a way to send me back."

Poppy: "NO! I can't go through that again, Branch! I can't lose you again!"

Poppy braced herself in front of the exit, her arms and legs quivering, as she readied herself to fend off her own boyfriend. Branch noticed this. He slowly approached, showing no sign of ill intent, and he placed his hands on one of hers and brought it to his face.

Branch: "Poppy, please. I'm sorry that this happened. It hurts me so much to see you like this, to know this is what could happen if you lose me. But I know if I can get back, I can prevent this from ever happening, and talk to you about this so that if something ever does happen to me, that you'd be able to move on from it."

Poppy fell to her knees again as she embraced her love. She felt Branch kiss her forehead as he whispered to her that he loved her.

Poppy let him go, and she watched as he disappeared back to the surface. Branch rushed back to the Funk Trolls ufo. He started pressing buttons, pulling switches, doing everything he could to try and get anything to happen, but to no avail.

Branch then heard a shimmer in his ears, and a white light appear in front of him. He then heard a deep, and annoyingly familiar voice call out to him to step into the light, and that he would be brought back to where and when he belongs.

Branch thought for a moment before leaping through the light. And like that, he was back. R&B standing in front of him with eyes of wonder, but before he could tell them anything. He rushed out to find Poppy. He had so much to say, so much to tell her, and so much to prevent.

The End.

#broppy #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trollstopia #trolls branch #trolls poppy #branch x poppy #poppy x branch #writing #fanfic #episode idea #trolls r&b #trolls rhythm #trolls blues #time travel #angst #long post

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askthechronoverse · 1 year ago

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The first of three fanfics I have uploaded exclusively to AO3.

Time to go back to where it all began. Unikitty has finally started to settle in to being the princess of the planet Queen Wa'nabi gave her as a gift when a threat long thought to be lost resurfaces: Rex Dangervest. What does his reappearance mean for the universe at large?

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

Chapter One: When You Go Chasing Horned Cats

When night fell on the Unikingdom, it didn't actually hit that hard. The lights of the Princess's main city were too bright and too dominant to make nighttime have any weight. It was one of the things that made the people there feel safe, what drove people to move from the other Systarian planets and even the main hub of Syspocalypstar, despite the destruction occasionally wrought by the Princess and her friends and the close proximity to the oppressive feeling Frowntown. It was unusual for clouds to settle in and moreso for a large lightning storm to roll in, causing the population to bunker into their homes until the storm passes.

It was in this unusual weather that a dark clad figure fell from the sky. He was a shadow at first, barely seen in the clouds. Soon, the form gained color and definition until he hit the ground, his body cradled by the plants in the garden of the Princess's castle. His overgrown hair covered the harsh features of his unshaven face, a face that hid boyish charm under the pain of ages. The clothes he wore were fire damaged and torn from the storm that began the sluggish process of clearing to what the people of the Unikingdom were accustomed to. The rain washed soot and dirt from the strange man's surprisingly undamaged body.

It wasn't until around mid-day the next day before the sleeping man was found in the blueberry bushes and before the man stirred from his exhausted slumber. Dark eyes fluttered open to meet… a floating one by three brick. The man bellowed in surprise in time with the brick, who's yelling sounded less enthusiastic. The man tried to back further into the bushes, but seemed to be stopped by either the dense branches or an unseen injury. The grey brick was soon close to the weather worn face of the stranger, expression returning to a resting disinterest.

"You don't belong here." The brick spoke in a tone not unlike uncapped day old seltzer water. The words made the man's left eye twitch from old trauma. "This isn't a person bush." The brick looked the man up and down, eyes stopping at a faded green R that adorned the stranger's right chest. He seemed to move from that identifying mark quickly enough, however, as the sound of running feet filled the air. The man glanced around the brick at the sound and lifted a large eyebrow. A towering figure of a hawk/crocodile chimera with sunglasses quickly loomed behind the brick, glowering at the stranger. The brick simply moved aside, waiting for the creature to speak.

"Rick. Who is this guy?" The being folded his arms. Or were they supposed to be wings? Did it matter?

"I don't know, but he doesn't belong in the bushes. I still have to finish the chores out here before Unikitty ge-!" Before Rick could finish the thought, the stranger moaned.

"Great." His eyes narrowed as he spoke. "I think I woulda been better off in Gotham City." He raised a hand to his head only for the lifted arm to be grabbed by the creature's boxing glove like hand, lifting him out of the bush. "Easy on the arm, big guy. I need it later."

The creature pulled down his glasses and looked the stranger over. As it did with the brick, his eyes stopped at the lime green R. He stared at the emblem, trying to gain meaning from it as to the intentions of these stranger. The dark haired man opened his mouth to speak again, but the creature silenced him with a jerk of his arm. "You. You really don't belong here."

"You more of an authority than a floating piece of plastic?" The man did his best to smirk, to try and gain control over the situation. This failed when the creature threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.

"I'm the bodyguard of Princess Unikitty… and I know who you are, bro. You are wanted on every planet in the known universe." The creature turned as the man on his shoulder squirmed to get out of his grasp. "I'm gonna avoid some real trouble. I just gotta figure out where I'm gonna put you." By this point, the floating brick had left to tend to something else.

"I'm wanted? How flatterin'." The creature's captive sounded completely deadpan. This caused the creature to jostle him. The creature began to walk around the garden, holding his prisoner firmly. "You treat all of your unexpected guests like this or am I just special?"

"You ain't a guest. You're outta here before you get any ideas." The hawklike being was stopped in his tracks before he got to far out of the castle's shadow by a voice calling out. One that both made the man on his shoulder's heart sink.

"Hawkodile! Where are you going?" A cat like creature with a light blue horn on the center of her head practically floated over to them. She didn't seem to grasp the situation at first. Typical.

"I'm just takin' out some trash." Hawkodile bumped the man he held with his shoulder. The unicorn cat looked at the man for what had to be a long time and, eventually, shook her head.

"Hey! He's a friend of mine! Remember that construction worker I told you about?" She spoke with so much certainty that it hurt the man's heart a little. She seemed to mistake him for someone else. "I thought he was back on Syspocalypstar, but he must have come to visit! He's so thoughtful!"

"Princess. This ain't that friend of yours. Didn't ya say he wore an orange vest?" He grabbed his captive and held him out for her to get a better look. "This ain't orange."

"Yeah! You're right! It's kinda the opposite of a safety vest. Like a… danger vest." She whispered the last two words to be more dramatic. She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Maybe he's my friend's brother!" Hawkodile sighed softly. "Well, the brother of a friend is a friend of mine!" The man chuckled. That was a little too close for comfort.

"I still need to ask him some questions." It was clear Hawkodile was the sensible one. He wasn't out of the woods yet. "I'm taking him to my treehouse."

"Okay! Have fun! I'll have some cookies ready for you guys when you get back!" The Princess headed back into the castle. Hawkodile threw the stranger back on his shoulder and walked to what the man assumed to be the beast's treehouse.

When they got inside, Hawkodile threw the suspicious stranger down in a wooden chair. "Who are you?"

The man straightened out, looking around for a way out of this situation. He had to admit: this was the kind of pad he would have created for himself: it looked like a dojo, clearly built for training. "Nice place ya got."

"Hey thanks. Answer the question."

"Thought you said ya knew. Ya lookin' for a confirmation or didja wanna ask a different question and couldn't get it out?" The man kept his cool, folding his arms to mirror his captor.

"No. I'm asking you who you are. I heard ya died on Undar… or something." This made the stranger laugh. How faulty was this beast's intel? It wasn't bad, but…

"So confirmation. Yeah. I'm Rex Dangervest. No clue how I got here, but I gotta assume I'm in the Systar System. Only way any a this makes sense. Do I get a question now?" Rex's eyes kept searching for something to formulate an exit plan, but nothing that didn't involve his headache getting worse came to mind. Lots of weapons didn't mean he'd have the ability to overpower Hawkodile. The chimera shook his head.

"Right now, I'm asking the questions. Why are you here? What's your plan?" Hawkodile wasn't angry, or if he was he didn't show it. His tone was oddly calm.

"Look, my plan right now is to get outta here an' get back to my ship. This ain't exactly somethin' I planned out. I'm… not supposed to be here." He said this last part softly, his voice losing bravado.

"Then my plan's gonna be to keep you grounded. You on your ship's the last thing this kingdom needs right now. Or ever." Hawkodile looked from Rex to the weapons and equipment around the room. "Until I can figure out where to keep you, you aren't leaving my sight."

"I know Unikitty. You'll lose sight of me in less than a few seconds of leaving this room. Then what?" Rex smirked. He would get his chance to leave this planet in no time.

"You won't be hard to spot with your dark vest and you won't be able to escape the planet easily. Hang on…" Hawkodile searched Rex for a way to call his ship or crew and found nothing. "Yeah. Good. Rockets are hard to come by. You're trapped here, Dangervest."

"I'm a Master Builder. I can build a way out of there, you overgrown chicken."

"Okay, you ain't leaving my sight more now." Hawkodile grabbed Rex and threw him over his shoulder again. "You're staying right there. I gotta go find Princess Unikitty." For someone who was balancing a grown man on his large shoulders, Hawkodile was still agile in his movement as he headed for the castle. Rex didn't fight it. He suspected that any fight with the hybrid creature was going to result in him in a lot of pain.

It wasn't long before Hawkodile with his prisoner in tow found his way to the living room of the admittedly cozy castle. Unikitty sat on a well used couch, flanked by a blue dog with a similar horn to her and a fox in a lab coat. Above her was Rick, who was the first to notice their arrival.

"Hawkodile, I thought you said he didn't belong here. Why is he in the castle?" He continued to speak in the deadpan tone as he had earlier. Was this a character defining trait for this guy?

"I'd throw him in a dungeon if we had one. I don't trust the guy."

"Stop talking about my friend's brother like that!" Unikitty butted into the conversation. "We've got to be nice to him! He's a guest!"

"Princess, he looks dangerous. If Hawkodile doesn't trust him, we really shouldn't trust him either." Rick glanced over at Rex, who made eye contact with him almost immediately.

"He also ain't your friend's brother." Hawkodile adjusted Rex's position on his shoulder. "He's a wanted man. The guy behind the wedding crashing. I know you remember that." The cat's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh. Was that him? I mean I only kinda just heard a name. I never actually saw the guy, so…" Unikitty glanced up at Rex for a moment and tilted her head. "Are you gonna try to end the world again, Mr. Grumpy?" Her blue eyes bored into Rex's soul. He looked away, feeling guilty somehow. "You were, weren't you‽ Well, then I'm gonna fix that! You're gonna stay here in the Unikingdom and get rid of that angry energy!" Her eyes were sparkling as she spoke.

"Princess, if he's as dangerous as Hawkodile says, we really shouldn't have him stay in the Uniking-" Rick was swiftly interrupted by Unikitty, who was trying to pull Rex off of Hawkodile's shoulder.

"If I can change him, he won't be dangerous anymore! It'll be fine! Besides, Hawkodile'll keep an eye on him. Right, Hawkodile?" She gave up after a few tugs of Rex's arms. Her bodyguard replied by keeping a tight grip on his prisoner.

"Where is he going to stay? We don't have a place in the castle to keep him here." Rick said pointedly, but barely. The fox spoke up.

"He can stay in my lab. It's in the basement and I can keep him restrained. Hang on." She shuffled away for a moment and returned with a device Rex didn't realize left her hand and to his wrist until he saw blinking red and blue lights. "That's a tracker. If he leaves the castle, we should know where he went and bring him back." The fox sat back on the couch, pleased with her work. This got a nod from Hawkodile, who roughly threw the space cowboy down to the ground. "That's better, right? Kay, it's time for introductions! I'm Unikitty! You met Hawkodile and Richard. And that's my brother Puppycorn and Doctor Fox is over there!" She pointed to everyone she named with her whole paw. "What's your name?"

Rex watched his host point to the others and felt a sharp pain in his heart when she introduced herself. He knew who she was. She was one of the people who forgot him and made him who he became. The fact she didn't know that just… hit him harder than it probably should have. "It's Rex. Rex Dangervest." He said this weakly. He wasn't sure why it came out like that. He spent so long hardening his heart from these feelings. Did his last encounter with his past self make him go soft? "I thought you heard my name already."

"Well yeah! But now I have a face to put to the name!" Unikitty didn't seem to notice the weakness in her guest's voice. Or how similar it was to her orange clad friend. "Now that we know each other, we can be friends!"

No, Rex thought. They couldn't. He went through this before with her. With all of his past so-called friends. He may have realized his initial machinations were wrong, but the pain he felt was real and still present. He got to his feet and walked to the nearest window, staying silent. Hawkodile was quick to make sure the window was closed. Unikitty moved behind Rex, attune to his emotional shift.

"We can be friends, right?" She reached to put a paw on his hand, but he pulled his hand away. "It's OK! We don't have to be friends right away." The cat put her paw on his shoulder, which Rex brushed away. She didn't miss a beat as she turned to her friends. "What are we gonna do today?"

"We should probably add your friend to the chore list. Then, make sure he has someplace in Doctor Fox's lab to sleep. After that, we-" Richard was cut off again, this time by Puppycorn.

"I wanna go to the skatepark!" This seemed to catch Rex's interest a little. "I've been practicing a cool move and I wanna show you guys!"

"Oo! That sounds like fun! Let's go!" Unikitty was practically out the door with her brother before anyone could say anything else. Rex went to leave, but was grabbed by the collar by Hawkodile.

"You ain't going anywhere." He turned to Richard. "Get him set up in Doctor Fox's lab. I gotta make sure Puppycorn and Unikitty don't hurt themselves again." He rushed off, leaving Rex with the floating brick and the fox.

"Come with me." Richard lead the way to the basement lab, Rex following behind with Doctor Fox behind him. When they got to the lab, Rex scanned the large area. He had to admit, it felt closer to his ship, his home, than any other place in the castle. Doctor Fox rushed in front of Rex and began to help Richard set up a place for their leader's guest to stay. Rex glanced at what he hoped was a willing participant in some unfathomable experiment. When the strange, simple being made eye contact that screamed doubt that they were, he looked away with his face going pale. Who was this fox? He was snapped out of his thoughts by Richard, who called him over to his accommodations.

The cell screamed high tech, for no reason at all. Maybe it was once a part of some experiment, but not any more. It just had a basic bed. That was it. It was clear that the brick and/or the fox were skilled builders and may suspect he was one too with how bare bones it really was. Well, it was better than nothing, he guessed. "Gonna assume ya want me in there now."

"Yes. For the time being. If you need anything, Doctor Fox should be around to help." Richard floated away and the fox went to her work. Rex couldn't follow what she was doing, but took to watching her anyway. After a while, Doctor Fox spoke.

"Did you see that storm last night? I was doing an experiment and I think that had something to do with it." She sounded proud of herself. This earned a lifted eyebrow from Rex. A storm caused by an experiment? Did that have something to do with his return to this timeline? Why he wasn't in Undar?

"What kind of experiment?" He asked, trying to keep cool.

"It was some super impossible science involving time and space. But I didn't see anything come out of that experiment except that storm. I may come back to it later. Although… you did come here after the storm. I need to know: what's the last thing you remember before coming here?" She approached Rex's cell with a pen and a clipboard.

He thought for a moment. Should he be honest? He needed answers.The fox may have them. "The last thing I remember was… disappearing from the timeline. I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to exist anymore." This limited information was enough to make the fox grin with unbridled delight. "What's so funny, Fox?" His tone did not hide his indignance.

"It's not that I find the situation amusing. You are an example of that super impossible science I was referring to earlier! That's amazing! If what you described is true, that means you are a genuine time paradox! I need to study you! I need to learn how you're being kept to the timeline, if what I did last night not only caused the paradox but is keeping you here! I haven't been this excited since my last experiment!" The fox practically vibrated with her wild glee. "Tell me, how long was it since you disappeared? Relatively speaking, of course. Does it feel like it just happened or like it had been a long time?" She got ready to write Rex's response. Rex looked stunned. Doctor Fox saw him right now as nothing more than an experiment she can interact with. He wasn't sure if he should be disgusted or fearful of what this so-called friend of a so-called friend was capable of. But she could give him answers to his own questions. He knew he needed to play along for the sake of understanding his current paradoxical existence.

"It felt like it happened yesterday, honestly. I was gone an' in the desert planet of Undar. Next thing I know, your brick buddy was floatin' in my face." Rex leaned against the cell bars, arms hanging out of the spaces between the cold steel cylinders. "How long has it really been since I went all Back to the Future?"

The fox hummed and she shuffled to a large super computer. She typed for what felt like forever and nodded at the result. "It's been around twelve months since the Battle for Syspocalypstar, as it is known. I wonder if time was slower for you or if the time depravation cause you to lose your inter clock." Doctor Fox began to write some things down from her computer. "How old are you? Do you remember that?"

He almost laughed at that question. "Thirty-three, Doc. What does that matter?"

"It will help me determine the effect of time deprivation on your body in terms of aging. It's interesting you say you're thirty-three, despite my saying 12 months passed between your last known point in time and now. You would actually be thirty-four, if my calculations are correct. Your date of birth, including year, is listed in the Space Corps database." Doctor Fox scribbled something down, put the clipboard on a rather overloaded desk and pulled a stethoscope and some other medical equipment out of a leatherette bag. "I'm going to let you out for just one moment to give you a physical examination. I ask that you do not try to vacate the premises, or I will have my robots detain you." She pushed a button on the wall near the cell and a few tiny robots floated behind Doctor Fox. Rex rolled his eyes. Even the scientist had a way to keep him at bay. The robots wouldn't last long against a Master Breaker punch, but how many did she have? Right now, it wasn't a risk worth taking. He simply moved aside as she slid the door open. "Please sit down so I can begin the examination." She gestured to a chair by the desk.

Rex sat in the chair, keeping a close eye on Doctor Fox. He kept his mind on the items around the room, almost going into a trance as he assessed what he could build with the items around him. If he was given the opportunity to escape, there was enough tech here to build a Rex-wing and get out of Dodge. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a cold object on his back. "Watch it!" He growled in shock. This sudden noise made the little fox jump.

"Was that a Master Builder trance? I've heard from Unikitty that the ability to build using parts around you was a more spiritual experience on other planets. We are just able to build what we want around here." Doctor Fox shrugged, leaving Rex to sit in a crestfallen state. Maybe he would have preferred Gotham City now. What made him special wasn't here. Somehow, that hurt more than being the prisoner of a former friend. His silence didn't seem to phase Doctor Fox, who went back to her work. After a while, she began to put her things away. "I'll perform a more specific analysis on your anatomy at a later date." She picked her clipboard up from the desk and wrote, muttering as she did. Rex made out "barely co-operative" and "scarring on body indicating signs of prior physical trauma".

This all felt surreal to him. She spoke like this was all real. He put a hand on his face. He was alive. She was able to see scars on his body. This didn't make sense. He was rejected. His fate was sealed a while ago. He was not supposed to be here. The weight of his paradox was hitting him in full force. Maybe the clinical nature of the whole thing broke Rex's illusions of this being in his head somehow, of this being a nightmare to pass the time of non-existence. It didn't register that the doctor was addressing him and had been before his existential crisis.

"Are you listening? You will need to return to your containment unit. I've finished with the examination for today." Doctor Fox was calm and totally unaware of Rex's mental state, until she finally looked up from her notes. "Are you OK? You look flush. I didn't see any signs of illness on my examination, but I could have missed something." She walked closer to Rex, but the man recoiled at her approach.

"Leave me alone. I gotta think." The words barely escaped his throat. "I gotta… think." The fox used her subject's state to lead him to his bed. After she had him sit on the bed, she wrote some notes. She muttered again, the only words one could make out was "call it delayed temporal shock". She sat on the bed next to Rex and put a paw on his hand.

"In the state of shock you are in, I can't leave you alone. You may be compelled to remain in the castle, but you are helping me conduct some important research and I am a doctor." The fox summoned a robot and had the automation bring her a blue blanket. She wrapped it around Rex's body, the warmth almost instantly felt by the man. "Can you feel the blanket and your feet on the ground?"

"How… how am I alive? He rejected me. He said he would never be me. I can't be here. He can't become me. He has to stick to his guns. Did he… did he change his mind?" Rex continued to ramble along those lines, which only got patience and silence from Doctor Fox. When he too fell silent, she spoke.

"We're going to find a scientific explanation for your reappearance in this timeline. It may take a large period of time, but my theory that your current spontaneous existence and my time experiment are connected still has merit. I'm here for you, Rex. If I can call you that." Her tone was soothing, a grounding force for the troubled time traveler. It felt like a lifetime, but Rex soon took control of his senses. He turned his head to the direction the doctor was sitting and tried to find a further, dark intent written on her face. He couldn't and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She was there for him? No, that couldn't be. Not at all.

"I wouldn't say something like that." Rex shook his head slowly. "Never make a promise you can't keep." In the distance, Unikitty's shrill voice cut though the moment like a hot blade. "Looks like your friend is calling you, Doc. Don't forget to lock the door when you leave. Wouldn't want your prisoner to walk out." There was something in his tone that was pained, hidden behind a casual coldness. The fox’s ear twitched, the tone of her current companion troubling. It was clear he was pushing her away, something she could have only expected from someone like Master Frown. What did Unikitty see in this man?

“Alright. I shall take my leave. I’ll return as soon as I can.” She got up and left the man to rest. Given the kind of day he was having, maybe a nap was the best cure she could provide.

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #the newspaper isn't antiquated •||• written works

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wonder-in-wings · 1 year ago

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What We Are in the Dark

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: Clem (@clementpanallus) and Parker (@wonder-in-wings) SUMMARY: While out searching for potential photographs in the woods, Clem encounters Parker near the latter’s bunker. CONTENT WARNINGS: Eye Trauma [Temporary blindness from light]

Night. He was hard at work, bent over a table that he did his best to keep clean though sometimes that couldn’t be helped. Parker wasn’t sure how long he was working or even what time it was, he just knew that when he went into the bunker, the sun was starting to disappear. He figured by now that around the full moon there were most likely werewolves in those woods but tonight wasn’t a full moon and he wanted to take advantage of his creative potential, feeling a persistent tug on his mind. Before him were a pair of beautifully intricate sylph wings, both of which were cleaned and one of which was currently stiffening up. They weren’t very big, not the biggest he’d seen from a sylph but they were precious to him nonetheless. Parker worked very carefully, with dextrous hand movements and a vision that he couldn’t share with anyone else unless he managed to get it onto the display correctly and even then, sometimes it was a vision that he selfishly hoarded to himself. A turn there, a flip. Insert, bend, stiffen. Materials he didn’t care to explain to make pieces beloved by trophy hunters, the affluent and especially himself. After he seemed to be on them forever, a gracious infinity with his work, Parker stood from his seat, straightening his back and deciding that though he wanted to continue, he had to allow himself five minutes of fresh air. Out of the room he went, down the dark corridor that offered only two lights between a vast stretch of black before he emerged from the well-concealed iron door that barred entry to the bunker, a hole in an otherwise unremarkable mound of concrete obstructed and overgrown with greenery. A small barbed wire fence surrounded the space, twisted with spikes and posted on pillars of iron. He passed the fence in a swift move that seemed imperceptible to normal humans and, wiping sweat from his brow, he got out one an embroidered handkerchief from his back pocket as he started to make his way to a nearby stream where he could clean himself up. _______ Clem walked slowly through the nighttime woods. He wasn’t in any particular hurry. He was just checking out the forest, looking for nice spots to take pictures in the future. Maybe it was just the heat of the summer night that was making him grumpier than normal, or maybe it had to do with the fact that he was somewhere new. The trees looked haunted, and the bushes around him rustled from creatures moving around just out of sight. He’d heard that this place could be dangerous, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t thinking about possible photograph locations anymore. He was counting the seconds until he could turn back and go home.

Sveppir’s tail lashed from side to side, curling around his neck. Her claws dug into his shoulder. She stared at the shadows, but didn’t give any indication that anything was following him. That was a relief. One small thing he had going for him. He reached up to stroke her fur, attempting to comfort himself.

Clem was so focused on the shadows that he nearly ran into the tall figure of a stranger. He ground to a halt to avoid a collision. Noted that the person was coming out from behind a gated hunk of concrete. Immediately mistrusted them.

Sveppir seemed to agree with him. She moved to one shoulder, crouched and ready to either spring at the stranger’s face or hold on for dear life if Clem spun and ran for it. Her fur stood on end. She growled low in her throat as a warning.

“Hello,” Clem said, not wanting to be rude. The stranger seemed not to know he was there, and he didn’t want to startle him. “It’s a little late for a walk, don’t you think?” _______

Parker had heard stories of other Hunters, the ones that hunted shifters and other animals, beasts, that could see in the dark better than he could and part of him wondered how different he would’ve been if he was raised by that type of Hunter. That being said, he relied on his memory of the right path to take when it was so late at night and he wasn’t anticipating there being an obstacle in front of him. He managed to stop as he was abruptly confronted by a figure of a humanoid with a growth on its back, though he felt a shiver tear itself up his spine, turning his blood over just under his skin. Parker was immediately put on edge as he found himself before what was almost certainly a fae. Instinctively, he took a step back and he all but dropped the handkerchief in favor of reaching for one of the small, needle-like iron daggers; his spiked knuckles were in his pocket and would take too long for him to reach without another plan first. The stranger spoke and Parker remembered that he shouldn’t immediately jump to violence; fae couldn’t tell what he was, after all, so it was very suspicious for him to immediately get aggressive, even if it was the middle of the night in potentially hostile territory. “I could say the same about you.” He replied, straightening up, his hand deciding to hand on one of his belt loops near the clean row of daggers. “Hi.” He said after the fact. He exhaled and subconsciously turned his head, his good ear facing the strange fae. “Do you require assistance?” The Warden decided to ask first, with a great deal of caution. “Are you lost?” _______ The stranger bobbled his head like he had poor hearing. Clem wondered what he was doing out here in the dark when he didn’t have all his senses about him. But then, his hands went to his belt. Clem could just make out the gleam of silver there: knives. A cold shudder went down his spine as he realized that this person was no mere recluse. He needed to get out of there before a fight broke out.

“No, I’m not lost. I was just looking for potential places to photograph nature, but it got dark faster than I thought it would.” Clem kept his voice calm, but he could feel himself tensing.

Sveppir noticed his growing anxiety and began to growl low in her throat. The noise didn’t help the situation at all. She sounded terrifying when she did that. She wasn’t normally a growler. She should’ve been begging for pets from this stranger. But the fact that she was trying to scare him off was highly telling.

Clem took a long step back, separating the stranger and Sveppir. “Look, I know the way back. Sorry to bother you. I’ll let you get back to… whatever it was you were doing.” _______

“Oh, you live around here.” It wasn’t a question as much as it was information that Parker could store in his databanks for future use. The growth on the stranger’s back started growling at a pitch that he could hear, invasive, obviously inhuman. It sounded like a cat. So the fae lived at least relatively nearby and had a cat with him. Parker didn’t like cats. That wasn’t going to dissuade him from the conversation, though this fae didn’t seem like others - he didn’t immediately get aggressive or act as though he was willing to get into a scrape. He didn’t seem particularly proud and he was glamoured even when he was by himself in the forest at who-knew-when at night, which was another curiosity that stuck in the Warden’s mind. “Why are you glamoured?” Parker did ask this time, cutting to the chase, deciding not to think much more on it - bad things happened when people spent too much time trying to form connections in their minds where they might not even exist. He took things literally, which had helped him in the long run, even if it didn’t earn him any friends. _______ Clem froze at the stranger’s question, cold dread seeping through him. He was glamoured, and he would’ve known if this man was fae too. There was only one way he could know what Clem was: he was a Warden. Clem’s face went ashen at the realization. What kind of rotten luck did he have that put him directly in the path of this person on his first night out?

There was no bending the truth to get out of this one. He was exposed.

“You want me to unglamour? I can do that. Just give me a minute.” He held up his hands as if in surrender, looking over his shoulder like he was going to run for it. Made sure the man was looking at him very closely before he made his next move.

Clem dropped his glamour. Immediately, his form of a shortish bearded human was overtaken by a blinding green luminescence. Pure light lit the forest with all the loving warmth of the sun. And, if he was lucky, the human would be blinded by staring directly at its source.

He may not have been quite as blinding as other Hesperides who were tied to the sun itself. But he got the job done just fine on his own.

Sveppir’s growling cut off, as if understanding that she needed to be quiet now. She dug her claws in and curled herself around his neck, knowing that he was going to run for it very soon. _______

In another surprise, the fae hadn’t protested Parker’s inquiry and the latter’s body language subtly changed to reflect that; he relaxed his body somewhat though he kept his sharp blue eyes on the stranger. Almost instantly he felt a rush of curiosity pulse through his frame - what type was it? Was it a faun? Or perhaps something less common like a sylph? Then again, it’d been a while since he last laid eyes on a leshy as well, which would’ve made sense given the environment. Did it have wings? And if he didn’t, did he possess some other special, unique aspect of him? It was too soon to tell and his expression went from accusatory to that same curiosity though the glance over the other man’s shoulder didn’t go by unnoticed; he was opting to go for the ‘flight’ route. The motion just raised more questions in Parker’s already-buzzing mind. And then the fae unglamoured and there was a split second that served as the transitionary period between covered and uncovered before Parker was harshly confronted with bright green light, brighter than it had any right to be. As he wasn’t sure what to expect, he didn’t react as quickly as he should’ve but as soon as he could, he squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply through his mouth in pain and he even accidentally let the gasp turn into a quiet whimper, childish, small. His hands flung up to his eyes to cover them and he staggered back in surprise and what could’ve been interpreted as fear - indeed, the fae couldn’t have known and Parker wouldn’t have dared share this with anyone but there was a brief, crushing weight of terror that pressed on his chest. A hesperide. Fae that gathered energy and life from the sun and other significant light sources. Parker had never encountered one before, only hearing about them in family stories and from experiences of relatives. About how one of his great grandparents had gone permanently blind because he wasn’t careful enough around the brilliant light of a sun nymph. This was what scared Parker and he had very rarely felt so instantaneously dissuaded from pursuing something in his life. _______ Clem counted to three in his head before he drew his glamour back up. He almost felt sorry for the man: those pained noises were gutwrenching. The way the stranger stumbled back and shut his eyes far too late was difficult to watch. But the man was up to something here, Clem reminded himself.

He didn’t waste time with curiosity. He just spun around and ran for it. Sveppir easily kept her balance. She watched the human disappear behind them, still incapacitated. Clem hated when things like this happened. There were always a few days of panicked, sleepless paranoia, of wondering if he should move again. He wasn’t going to do anything reckless right now, but if this person came after him again…

The woods gradually thinned out and opened into a trailhead. Clem slowed and finally caught his breath, heaving air into his deprived lungs. He wasn’t an athlete by any means, and he ached.

Sveppir meowed quietly and began to pur, rubbing her chin on the back of his neck. He reached back to pet her, murmuring his thanks.

“We probably shouldn’t go there again,” he told her softly. Clem continued back home at a less frenzied pace, leaving the woods behind. _______ The Warden exhaled, getting his breathing under control and he fully anticipated being attacked while he was disadvantaged. The thought forced him to compartmentalize and he could feel his blood rippling under his skin, readying itself to rush to wherever he was grabbed or touched as a defense mechanism as fast as it could. But no such attack came. Instead, Parker’s deficient hearing was able to pick up on footfalls departing and he was able to deduce that the nymph did indeed retreat. Gritting his teeth as he calmed himself down, he lowered his hands and blearily opened his eyes. His vision was unfocused and darker than previously, even as he stood there near the Bunker in the dead of night. Open his eyes, close them, open them again. His vision slowly got better but every time he closed then again, plunging him into inverted darkness for the second before going dark, there was an image imprinted on his eyelids. A shape with what seemed to be a mushroom on its head but more importantly, the outline of what were unmistakably wings on the back. Parker opened his eyes again for good this time, wiping tears from them as he looked around his featureless environment. The fae was long gone and Parker wouldn’t have been able to pursue it anyway, not as his vision was still returning to him. However, he neither could nor wanted to shake the vision that was photographed in his head - whoever that fae was, he had both the glamored form and an idea in his head that he had wings. He had a cat and he lived close enough that he could reliably get to and from the forest. And the fae knew where Parker’s Bunker was, in turn. The Warden slowly turned, his breathing now completely back to normal and the sensation of being so close to the nymph dissipated, replaced only by the remnants of adrenaline that pulsed through him for a moment when his animal brain thought he’d gone blind. The collector looked at where the fae stood for a long moment. He needed to learn more. And he needed to see those wings again.

#WR Writing #Writing: What we are in the dark #writing with: Clem #eye trauma tw #(temporary blindness)#(no actual contact)#The Collector // writing

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mantleoflight · 2 years ago

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Timeline & Verses: Echo-17 & Whisper

Golden Era - Golden Age

Exo Project || Rachel-1 || Golden age!Echo

Married and a Mother of two, Rachel Green was an avid media industry professional who specialized in family edutainment programming. However, her career and family life were derailed when she experienced a freak accident, leading to micro metals filling and poisoning her bloodstream. With chemical, nanite, and other treatments failing to repair the damage, Rachel and her husband were approached with other less conventional solutions. Braytech was one of those solutions and Rachel agreed to participate in the Exomind project in the hopes of being able to have a new lease on life for herself and her family. What she received would lead to a whole other can of worms she never expected to deal with.

Dark Ages/Old Light AU

The Bunker || Old Light Beginnings Rezzed in the wilds of North America, Rachel-5 awoke in a sealed bunker amidst the bones of its former occupants. Panicked, she did all she could to escape and managed to thanks to some temporary fixes and a good charge of arc light. Once out and in the bright green of the overgrown forest around her, Rachel-5 had time to calm down from her brief ordeal and let her ghost fill her in on what was going on. Namely who she is, where they are, and where they might get supplies to best help them survive. Unfortunately for Rachel-5, one of those best places is one she just escaped, so it takes a bit to coax her back in to get the supplies they need. However, by doing so, she and Whisper discover this was a family bunker owned by the "Greens". The Green family had come there during an emergency and been trapped inside when the Collapse knocked out their bunker's power. Whisper and Rachel discover that the bones she had awoken to hadn't been some horrifying animal den. It had been the bones of her family's last embrace. With this in mind, Rachel-5 made a small burial plot for them and with Whisper's guidance, crafted a single large gravemarker from scrap metal with the family member's names on them. Now she operates from this bunker, careful to keep it concealed as she fixes it up and figures out how to survive, utilizing both the information kept in there and that which she learns in the wilderness. Outside || Runner's Way After establishing her new base of operations, Rachel-5 set out to find other survivors and perhaps lend a hand. Her search was met with a harsh and brutal reality of starving people, violent, roving bands, and warlords who either demanded your obedience or killed you on sight for bearing the Light. It's here that Rachel learns the value of secrecy--namely that despite the power given to her by the Light she is fragile and is a better fighter at a distance when no one knows she's there. So she begins going by an alias, one to match her ghost's name: Echo. From there, she gained a reputation for her skills in cartography, surveying, and getting into places no one else could or should. Now she works as either a contract spy, map maker, or treasure hunter, but always with a back-out clause in case things go really sideways.

New Light // Main Verse

Once New Beginnings || Old!New Light au

Originally a hunter from the dark ages, Echo-17 (formerly Rachel-5) awoke in a field of grass and boulders in the cosmodrome with no name, her reset number, 17, and her ghost who introduced herself as Whisper. Whisper is quick to do a thorough examination, glad to find that her OS was indeed stable and she wasn't going to spontaneously reset again. With that in mind, Whisper began her retraining, the only one aware of the devastating event that erased everything but her reset number from her memory. Afraid of the possibility of being found and reset again, Whisper provided her with a name to take the place of her lost one without garnering possible unwanted attention--Echo. Since then, the pair of them have managed to make a pretty good life for themselves as a ghost and NewLight. With Whisper's training, Echo has been able to lend a hand much quicker than a new light ordinarily would. However, now she has to think on her feet and handle dangerous situations she never thought possible.

Beginning Light || NewLight!Echo

Raised not long after the Stasis Crisis with House Salvation, Echo-17 began her life as a New Light exploring the vastness of the land around her. Naturally curious but flighty, it took some time before Echo was brave enough to go to the Last City or leave once she was there. However, after volunteering to help out a few cryptarchs in finding "lost information", she volunteered to go to various locations in hopes of rediscovering the lost data the cryptarchs were searching for. Such ventures led her to discover the Warmind Rasputin as she answered his distress call and cleared out a group of Fallen from his bunker. It also led her to the Dreaming City where she discovered the existence of Wish Dragons and set about studying them in all their fascinating facets. As her curiosity grew, so did her willingness to explore new sites, technologies, and subjects. Unfortunately, such learning and exploration can lead to dangerous situations, situations even Guardians aren’t prepared for. Fortunately for her, New Lights are never left alone for long, and with the help of a few Vanguard-assigned guides.

Main Timeline/Mission Files

With two years of missions under her belt, Echo can't really call herself a "new light" anymore, even if sometimes she still feels like it. Now she takes a less hands-on approach, opting to deal with background things and maybe go on a few missions to loosen up. However, her choice in lifestyle belies the real power she has still thrumming through her systems. Because even though her lifestyle seems soft, she still has the power of the Light and all the skills she's gained with it over the first and past two years of her life.

Dragon Wishes - Ahamkara AU

Dragon Wishes || Ahamkara!Echo:

During one of her curiosity tours in the City, Echo fell into the abandoned lair of a dead dragon. Fascinated with the bones she found inside, the newlight explored with avid curiosity and made a simple, absentminded mistake. "I wish I knew what it was like to be a wish dragon," she had asked, and the bones, with one wish left in their calcified marrow, granted said wish. By turning the newlight into a new little dragon of her own. Now Echo must figure out how to function as a new-light wish dragon and hope to do so before the other guardians find her.

Dragon’s Maze || Ahamkara!Echo:

After managing to figure out some of her powers, Echo has managed to make a den in the Dreaming City in the form of an elaborate maze. Naturally, she figured any guardian worth their Light would find her eventually, so she made false trails to lead them away from her true den. However, upon seeing the use and delight of the guardians who "solved" her maze and gathered the loot from it, the young hunter-turned-wish-dragon decided to make it an actual thing. Thus came the Maze of Echoes! A place to test a guardian's puzzle-solving and combat skills, all with remarkable loot including a new engram - one upon which you wished and got a themed item based on that wish. Whether it was what you wanted or not is up to chance, but then again that was one of the beautiful aspects of the maze. That and the fact that it fed the young wish dragon with an endless supply of challenge-hungry guardians, was truly a grand wonder to behold. After all, whether it's a bootleg, a theme, or a genuine article, a wish made on a wish-engram is always granted in the end.

Hive AU

Ehkos || Hive!Echo

After being tricked and transformed by the spellcraft of the Witch Queen, Ehkos awakens as an amnesiac acolyte who is learning the ropes on how to be hive while subtly getting the feeling that things aren't what they seem--especially with her Ghost. Now she is training under the hive bishop, Taûryx, (@bandit-prince) until she can prove herself worthy as a Light Bearing Acolyte, a proud member of the Witch Queen's Lucent Brood, and uncover the secrets she believes her ghost his hiding from her. [More details Coming Soon]

Hive AU -- Pt 2

Crossover AUs

Back to the Past || Pre-Traveler Crossover Verse

After having a stray wish granted, Echo has been thrown far from the struggles of her daily life in the Last City and into the past far before the Traveler came to earth. Not only that, but she herself seems to have been reverted to a time in her own past too, one without the whirrs and hums of mechanical limbs. Yet still the gift of the Light remains and gives her daily breath--and she wonders if it might be enough to give a bit of daily Arc or Solar too.

Wrong Place Wrong Time Wrong Everything || Star Wars AU

After discovering a Vex traveling network known as the Nexus, the Vanguard sent Echo-17 and several others on a mission to disrupt and destroy the Vex's network, preventing them from gaining access to the Last City and other allied locations in the network's reach. The catch? They have to use their Jumpships to do it. Having gotten wise to the Vanguard's commando/guerilla warfare tactics, the Vexmind Laertes-α , constructed the Nexus Network to avoid giving platforms to any non-vex in the system. This necessitated the use of jumpships and the attempted hacking of a Nexus Vex gate. Fortunately, the Guardians were prepared, and with skilled flying and some refocused light, the fight between the fireteam and Vexmined Laertes-α ended with the destruction of the Vexmind and the Nexus network. Unfortunately, destroying the core piece of the network caused computer systems to crash, and the Vex network was no different. With everything collapsing around, it took all of the engineering capabilities of Vanguard, House of Light, and even Cabal to keep the Gate home open. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only gate open and in the confusion and sudden opening and closing of Vex gates, Echo was caught in one of the spontaneous Vex Gates and thrown across to the far side of the universe. One that she didn't expect to be populated. Now she must find her way to the Vex Conflux in the Unknown Regions to try and get back to Sol, all while learning how to survive and make nice in this new galaxy far, far away.

Return to Earth || Star Wars AU

(Under Construction) After having spent several years in what she would learn to call the "Known Universe", Echo finally locates a residual Vex Conflux and manages to utilize it and to earth. What she discovers is that while 4 years have passed for her, only about 20 minutes have passed for everyone else back in Sol. She finds out that Vex coordinates not only calculate where the portal is but when it is too. Now she must come back to a world she's dreamed of returning to and find a way to pick up the threads of her old life while bringing in some new ones from her new life too.

#ooc || out of light #echo #echo 17 #mobile verses #verses #info #verse info

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interrogatethecat · 3 years ago

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Excellent Language Skills

word count: 1.4k

happy one year Liv!! for your prompt raccoon, I hope it makes you smile :) the rest is under the cut or on ao3.

They bought the lake house on a whim.

They were helping Garth out with a case, and it took them to a lakeside road. It was a quiet little place, lined with trees on either side. Thinner on the side of the lake, which sat peacefully beyond the houses. Dean parked the Impala down a few houses from the one the shifter was hiding out in.

He got out of the car and the first thing he noticed was the little for sale sign at the edge of the driveway. Dean didn’t look much farther than that; they had work to do.

A dead shifter later, he and Cas were standing back in front of the house for sale. Dean took it in. House was maybe too big a word— cottage was more fitting. Light yellow paneling lined its outside, with a white wraparound porch. The door was a faded blue, probably once painted to match the lake. Perhaps it was a little worn— the garden out front was overgrown, and even from back here, Dean could tell the gutters needed to be cleaned and the door repainted. It wouldn’t hurt to clean up the sides of the house either— but something about the house was nice. Homey.

Next to him, he could tell Cas was looking it over, too.

“Hey, Cas,” he’d said, “How do you feel about a house?”

And so, here they are, three months later. They’ve moved out of the bunker to give Sam and Eileen space and the lake house is officially theirs.

It’s a hell of a fixer upper. Cas takes care of the garden happily. Less happily, Dean cleans the gutters, the house, and repaints the door. He even rips up and replaces part of the porch that was starting to rot. It’s a labor of love, though, so he doesn’t complain too much.

Not to mention, Cas pays him in kisses, so that’s pretty good motivation, too.

The one thing about this house that Dean hates is the family of raccoons that have made themselves at home in the attic. He does complain about those liberally.

They scamper around over his head while he’s brushing his teeth, taking a shower, having sex with Cas, and boy does that kill the mood. They’re furry, menacing cockblockers, and Dean wants them out of his house.

This morning, they’re scurrying around while Dean is trying to have his coffee, which is unacceptable. It’s too early for this.

“We’ve gotta call an exterminator,” he mutters into his mug.

Cas frowns from where he’s squinting at the crossword. “That sounds violent,” he says. “I don’t believe we need to exterminate them. Just relocate them.”

“Yeah, and how are we gonna do that?” Dean will face down God himself, but raccoons? No way. Raccoons have tiny little paws and rabies, he’s far happier staying away from that. Raccoons are where he draws the line.

“I’ll have a word with them,” Cas says, and sets down the paper. He stands up with no other explanation and leaves the kitchen.

It takes Dean another minute to process what the hell just happened, and then he’s abandoning his coffee and hurdling himself after Cas. This is going to be another case of Cas trying to talk to animals, isn’t it. Like the time he tried to question that cat while they were on a hunt. Only this time it’s not a cat; it’s a goddamn raccoon.

There’s only one room with a trapdoor that leads to the attic, which is the closet of the guest room.

Dean trips over himself as he races up the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Cas,” he warns, “They’re sneaky little bastards, you can’t just talk to them. I swear to god, dude, if you get rabies—“ He screeches to a halt as he takes in the scene before him.

There are one— no, two, three, four, five— five raccoons crawling around on Cas. Two of them are cradled in his arms like a baby, another on his shoulder, one on his head, and the last is climbing up his leg. None of them are biting or scratching at him. Actually, they all look really chill. And Cas just looks up at Dean like this is completely normal.

“What,” Dean says, “the fuck.”

“They didn’t realize they were being so disruptive,” Cas says. “They apologize and don't mind finding a home outside of the attic.”

Dean has seen a lot of weird things in his life. He’s done a lot of weird things in his life. This is by far the weirdest.

“Uh,” he says articulately.

“I offered them under the porch,” Cas tells him.

Dean doesn’t process that, he’s too busy trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

“Cas, since when did you become a Disney Princess?” he finally manages to ask.

“I’m not a Disney Princess.” Cas turns his attention to the raccoon trying to squirm out of his arms as he talks, adjusting his hold. “I just have excellent language skills.”

“‘Excellent language skills’ means Spanish. Or Mandarin.” Dean stares incredulously. “I don’t think it means trash panda.”

One of the raccoons hisses at him almost spitefully.

“Please don’t hurt their feelings,” Cas says.

“Hurt their what?”

“Bernice is sensitive.”

“They have names? You named them already?” Dean demands, but no sooner has he said it that it hits him that of course Cas has, his husband is absolutely that person. Sometimes, Cas reminds him of those little kids who name the birds that have nested in the tree in their front yard. Probably because Cas refers to the birds in their yard with names. Raccoons, though? That’s a whole new level. He’s lucky Dean loves him, or this would be divorce material.

“Please tell me you named one of them Rocket,” Dean says, doubling in his efforts to ignore the fact that there are raccoons in his house crawling over Cas.

“They already had names, they told me. Why would you name a raccoon Rocket?” Cas squints in his adorably Cas-like way. “Is that a reference to something?”

Alright. That settles it. These raccoons are getting out of their house, Cas is bathing in disinfectant after Dean makes sure the furry monsters haven’t scratched him, and then they’re going to have brunch while watching Marvel.

“So Bernice said she would leave?” Dean prompts.

“Agatha,” Cas corrects.

“Agatha. Right. Do they need to pack suitcases or can they go?”

Cas turns to the beast on his shoulder, staring intensely at it like they’re doing some kind of Vulcan mind meld. It chitters rapidly. Cas nods in understanding before addressing Dean again.

“They can leave if you want,” he says.

“Good. You’re up, Snow White.” Dean waves his hand in the vague direction of the stairs. “Show ‘em the door.”

Cas does his mind meld thing again, the raccoon on his shoulder replies with another short vocalization, and then the raccoons are scurrying down Cas’ body onto the floor and Dean is so out of here. He nearly trips over himself stumbling backwards to get out of their way.

The raccoons, for the most part, ignore him. Except for fucking Bernice, who hisses again at him and bears its teeth in what Dean assumes is the raccoon version of giving him the finger. Maturely, he flips it off right back.

He watches them file down the stairs. The wait at the bottom by the front door for Cas, who opens the door. The moment that happens, they’re scurrying out and disappearing from Dean’s line of sight. He lets out a breath, relaxing.

Cas watches them go, clearly satisfied, before turning around to look up the stairs. His eyes crinkle with an amused smile. “Planes. Raccoons. What else are you afraid of?”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles, tromping down the stairs. “They have grabby little hands and rabies. And if humans were meant to fly, we would have wings. There’s no reason for anyone to lock themselves in a metal death trap to hurl through the sk—“

He gets cut off with a sweet kiss. It’s chaste, but more than enough to push the raccoons out of his mind.

***

The next time Dean thinks about the raccoons, they’re curled up on the couch. His head is in Cas’ lap and Cas runs fingers through his hair and massages his scalp while they watch Guardians of the Galaxy.

“Hey,” he says. “Did Agatha ever tell you where they were going?”

“Under the porch,” Cas says calmly, fingers never stopping their motions.

Dean shoots upright. “What?”

tag list: @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @glowstickcas @angelscas @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @fellshish @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#!!! CONGRATS LIV !!!#have a lovely day <3 #I wish you the best of luck in not getting a raccoon infestation #spn #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #my fic #my writing #deancas

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sparxwrites · 3 years ago

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moon big; werewolves very

(such moon, very werewolf, wow. my half of a collab with rhy - we started with the same prompt, “scar gets fucking stabbed”, and worked mostly-simultaneously to make a piece of art and a fic that fitted together. very pleased with the end result!)

cw whump, blood, graphic depictions of injury, etc.

Art under cut by the lovely and insanely talented @rhydart - please go show her some love, and reblog the full piece when it comes out!

[ao3]

It’s a nice night. The sky’s clear, the temperature mild, the stars out in their glittering droves. The moon is… big.

Very big, Frighteningly big, actually. Scar’s trying not to think about it. The others have built a variety of things – an observatory, a religion, a panic bunker, a frankly absurd amount of explosives – in an attempt to deal with it but, in Scar’s opinion, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of good old-fashioned denial.

Besides, the extra light is pretty useful for a spot of night-time building, which is exactly what he’s currently indulging in. Not a good habit to get into, admittedly, but he’s had a touch of insomnia more often than not these past few weeks. He may as well make use of the sleeplessness to do something productive.

It’s definitely not the worry that’s keeping him up. It’s not.

The reason for his sleeplessness is a moot point, anyway. There’s plenty of work waiting to fill the nighttime hours, underbrush to be cleared, trees to be felled, bushes to be carefully sculpted and tended to. A builder’s work is never done, after all. Especially not when they’ve an inherited, long-neglected lodge and environs to spruce up.

The night is quiet. The rest of Boatem is asleep, as best he can tell, or at the very least staying cozy inside. No figures dart overhead on pale wings, and there are no half-distant explosions, no mechanical grind of redstone, no drag-hiss-scrape of shifting dirt from terraforming. Scar works solitary and methodical, pruning branches and planting trees, thinning the underbrush, packing down the dirt of long-overgrown paths to bring them back to use.

It’s slow work, hot work, enough so that the the night air is pleasant rather than chill. He discards his armour in a chest, and then his jacket over a helpful tree branch. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows within an hour, sweat beading in the downy hairs at the nape of his neck.

It’s hard work, but honest with it. As much as he’s a scammer at heart, there’s something nice about that.

Or, at least, it’s nice until the nighttime wildlife goes quiet. The hairs on the back of his arms prick up. Dead leaves rustle, from towards the sea, where he hasn’t been to clear yet. Something shifts in the darkness, too far too make out. He gets the abrupt feeling he’s being watched.

The niceness factor drops significantly, then.

Scar sets his shovel down, stuck tip-first into the soft dirt, and dusts off his hands as he squints through the gloom. He tries not to panic, despite how twitchy he is as a natural inclination. Most likely, it’s just a mob. He’s done his best to light the place up and ward them off but – with such a thick canopy of trees, and with so many less-than-methodical neighbours – the odd zombie or creeper does occasionally manage to make its way onto his property.

But, no, it moves with more intent than a shambling zombie. It has a more obviously walking-gait than the odd, smooth crawl of a creeper, is bipedal to boot. Too solid to be a skeleton, either. No gaps where the spaces between the ribs should be.

The figure draws closer, and resolves itself into Rendog. Kind of.

The kind of is what stays Scar’s hand from pressing in relief over his hammering heart. It’s definitely Rendog, though. It’s Ren, exactly as he usually is, no hint of a potion effect, or magic, or anything else untoward. There’s absolutely no reason the back of Scar’s neck should be prickling. Absolutely no reason his pulse should still be racing.

But there’s something off about the figure stalking towards him, and Scar can’t quite work out what it is. The slope of his shoulders, perhaps, the hunch of them and the forward lean of his spine. The hang of his head, low and forward, like a dog following a scent on the air. The way he’s moving, steady and unhurried and loping. There’s something uncanny to it all. Something not-quite-human.

It’s often easy to forget that Ren is, technically speaking, a predator. Undomesticated. Less so now, with the moon high in the sky, and the dark of the trees pressing in all around.

“Ren!” says Scar, brightly. The cheer sounds forced, even to himself. He raises a hand in easy greeting, and smiles a salesman’s smile that he absolutely does not feel. The back of his neck is still prickling. “Rendog, my friend, you nearly scared me there! How’re you doing on this amazing night?”

No answer.

There’s a sword in Ren’s hand, held loosely, bright with enchantments. The tip of it drags across the rocky dirt with a soft hiss. There’s a snarl on his face, ears flat against his head and lips pulled back to show off overlong canines. There’s nothing visible in his customary sunglasses, their tinted lenses turned flat and opaque by the darkness.

Nothing, that is, but the pale gleam of the bloated moon. The reflection of that is perfect, undistorted.

Scar begins to back up.

The snarl on Ren’s lips twists, deepens. A subaudible rumbling, rolling pressure in the air, resolves into low growling. When he steps over a patch of exposed rock, the sword-tip scrapes across it with a noise like claws on steel.

Scar begins to back up faster.

“…Ren?” He aims for placating, ends up at wary. Ren does not stop advancing. Scar’s back hits a tree. His heart rate spikes. In the unnatural quiet of the forest, his heartbeat seems impossibly loud in his ears. “Ren– haha, now, what in the world–”

Ren brings the sword up, still advancing. It’s not a defensive stance – the hilt is by his hip, held low and ready to strike. Ready to stab. Ready to kill.

Scar, belatedly, remembers his own sword, tucked somewhere in the mess of his inventory. He fumbles frantically to bring it up, hands shaking, clumsy with panic. With grim inevitability, he messes up. An empty bucket pops free, instead, and he drops it, hears the clang of metal on stone, watches it roll away into the gloom, grabs frantically again for his inventory–

The blow, when it comes, feels like nothing at all. It’s a cliché, but that doesn’t change the reality of it, the shock-numb point of entry. Time really does slow to a crawl.

The blade cuts through skin, fat, muscle with slick ease. The push of it, the slow slide, seems to take an eternity. Scar feels it when the blade hits the tree behind him with a sick lurch, the contact reverberating up his spine. Reverberating inside him. His stomach flips – or doesn’t, pinned in place by the sword skewered through his guts.

His hands, shaking, come up to– what? Pull the sword out? Staunch the bleeding? He presses a palm, uselessly, against the bladed edge of the sword, and gets only a hand slick with blood in return. There’s blood all over his nice shirt, too. A stupid thing to think of, when he’s just been run through, but his brain catches on it and sticks, like a faulty record. There’s blood on his shirt. He’s not sure how he’s going to get it out.

The full moon is huge in Ren’s sunglasses.

“That,” says Ren, his voice a half-octave lower than usual and edged with an uncharacteristic burr, “is for the life you took from me.” He speaks as though in a dream – distant, rehearsed. There’s blood dripping down his blade to run over the hilt, staining his hands red. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“Ren,” breathes Scar. His voice sounds hollow in his ears. There’s abruptly not enough space in his chest to breathe. His brain has gone numb, along with his guts. He can’t think. “You… you stabbed me.” His voice is weak with disbelief. “We’re– friends, Ren, we’re, you’re my friend–”

Ren snarls, and shoves the blade in another several inches.

It pushes deeper into the tree behind Scar’s back with the ease of a knife through butter. The wet meat of Scar’s body parts for it even more easily, cleanly – as though the keen diamond edge were merely opening a seam, rather than carving a bloody hole.

Scar chokes, convulses from the cold sharpness against the soft, half-numb warmth of his insides. His brain shorts out, though the worst of the pain is still damped by shock. The noise that eventually escapes his mouth is barely human. Words fail him entirely. He can only stare, shocked stupid with useless adrenaline, his pupils blown wide and dark and terrified.

“That,” hisses Ren, his hand curled tight around the back of Scar’s neck, “was for the Red Kingdom.”

Wrong world, Scar wants to say, wrong world, we’re free, we got out– But there’s a sword through his stomach and thinking is, for some reason, becoming very difficult. There is no space for thoughts, inside his head. There is only cold, and confusion, and the unyielding press of a razor’s edge against soft meat.

There’s something inside him. There’s something inside him, something where it shouldn’t be, a blade against organs that should never have been touched. There’s a distant sort of horror to that, though the thought slow to compute. His brain is occupied with struggling to parse the frantic signals from long-forgotten nerves, too busy to attend to such petty troubles as thinking or moving.

“…And this?” says Ren, leaning in, his lips pressed close as a lover’s to Scar’s ear. He twists the sword hilt with a vicious wrench of his wrist. “This is for Martyn.”

The signals, abruptly, parse. All other sensations yield to pain.

The sequence of events, here, gets blurry. Scar doesn’t black out, but things happen in snapshots, fragments – the blade removed, his legs giving way, Rendog stood over him like an omen of death. There’s a sword tip dripping blood by his ear, and his stomach soaking blood into the fine fabric of his waistcoat.

He’s still making small noises, awful noises, and he can’t quite seem to stop. Ren’s growling, quiet and rolling, reverberates over his own desperate struggle for air.

Eventually, the growling ceases. The sword flicks in the corner of his vision, blood sluicing off into the scrubby grass. The boots by his head shift. Vanish. The crunch of foot against gravelly dirt lingers a while longer. Eventually, that too disappears. All that is left is the whistle of the wind, and his own whimpering, and the thick iron smell of blood all around. And the pain.

Scar lays there for an indeterminate amount of time – alone, cold, getting colder, hurting – before it occurs to him that he may be dying.

The thought should scare him, but it doesn’t. He can’t remember why. Maybe because the respawn will– but the details escape him. There was Rendog, and a sword. Which world is that one? Rendog, and a sword, and… the world with three lives, green-yellow-red, and a respawn that burns like hungry fire. The world that does not forgive. The world that may not let him wake, if he dies here.

And– ah. There’s the fear.

None of his limbs want to move. He moves them nonetheless, heavy with exhaustion and pain. He feels like he’s been split in half, not stabbed, his abdomen wet with blood and bright with agony. But he’s going to die here, if he doesn’t move.

The respawn will hurt worse than moving, besides. If he even respawns at all. Because he cannot remember, through his pain-thick thoughts, how many lives he has left.

Getting himself to his feet is a miracle, an act of god. He feels the strain it puts on his insides, muscle and ligaments moving, some of them in ways he fears they should not. His stomach lurches, and he splays a shaking hand over the wound in his front like he fears his guts may make a bid for freedom.

But get himself to his feet he does, boots planted unsteadily in dirt wet with his own blood. His waggons loom over him in the darkness, tall and imposing, and– that’s not right, because they’re not from the place with three lives, they’re from–

That thought is subsumed under a rolling wave of pain, and then surpassed by the slow-settling realisation that he cannot get up into them. He cannot climb. Not like this, hunched and wavering on his feet, an arm wound tight around his waist to keep his innards in. He nearly lays back down in the dirt at the realisation, blood on his lips and a hole through his stomach and nothing left to give. Because the only other option that he knows of, the only other stockpile of potions that he can remember, is in messy pile of someone else’s chests, tucked away in a shop down an alley. An alley across the other side of Boatem.

What he’s contemplating technically counts as theft – but that’s not what worries him. He’s stolen plenty from Grian before now, and always been forgiven for it, for a generous definition of forgiveness. If not, he can pay, or replace them, or offer a favour or– All of which is irrelevant, because the problem is that he’s not sure he can actually get there without collapsing.

There is, he supposes, only one way to find out. He starts walking.

The journey happens, simultaneously, in an endless greyish drag of pain and in rabbit-fast blinks. He loses time, finds himself on one path one moment and another the next – here veering towards Impulse’s base, here veering towards Pearl’s. The pain stays constant, though. It fills the gaps in his memory with its awful omnipresence. His waistcoat is saturated in it. Both hands, pressed over the wound in his belly, are soaked crimson and wet and dripping.

When he staggers through the door of Grian’s chest-monster shop, he leaves bloody handprints on the handle. On the doorframe. He leaves bloody footprints, too, and fat droplets of it that fall from between the hand splayed uselessly over the gaping hole straight through him. His breath wheezes in his throat.

There are so many chests, is the thing. Too many chests. He opens one, closes it again on a collection of dirt and gravel. Another, full of a load of old junk, and Scar’s blood-slick hand slips as he holds the lid of it up. It falls shut with a bang, loud enough to echo down the alleyway outside.

Another, full of flowers and sticks and bits of glass and glazed terracotta and a worn-out axe. He lets that one fall shut as well, too exhausted to close it quietly. He sways forward, panting through his nose, and reaches for the next chest with a shaking hand.

“What on earth do you think you’re– Scar?”

Scar flinches, and regrets it almost immediately. Pain tears through his stomach, up through his sternum, along his spine, with a dizzying intensity. The world briefly disappears beneath a welter of red and black splotches.

“H. Haaah. Hello, Grian.” The voice is familiar enough, even if the suddenness of it is alarming. Scar very carefully doesn’t turn around, because he’s not sure exactly what’s going to happen if he tries to move at this point, but he can only assume it’s nothing good. He’s barely standing as is, one hand braced bloody-wet against a barrel and the other wrapped tight around his own waist. “S’rry for the, the m– mmgh. Mess. Jus’ need– needed…”

It doesn’t sound like him, even to himself. The words are slow, slurred and gasping. His breath hitches in his chest. The rolling waves of pain flare through his torso again. One leg gives way, and he buckles, narrowly misses the edge of the chest with his wreck of a stomach as he falls to his knees.

Maybe he cries out; maybe he doesn’t. It’s hard to tell. The world’s getting blurry at the edges, that hint of visual distortion that only comes with massive blood loss.

“Scar!”

The panic in that single word is familiar. It sounds a little like a hot and unforgiving sun, like the biting cold of a desert night, like the distant boom of TNT and a feral whoop of joy. It sounds a lot like the hiss of a creeper, and the world dropping out from beneath his feet, and the fine bones of his face shattering under a closed fist.

It sounds, against all odds, like safety.

“M’fine,” gasps Scar, which is clearly a lie, but let it never be said that he told the truth in a moment of crisis. “Just– need, borrow a, a…” The word slips from his tongue. He curls bloody fingers around the edge of the chest, leaves his fingerprints writ crimson over the grain of the wood. “Grian.”

There’s a hand on the back of his neck, gentle, warm against the creeping chill. He shudders at the heat, half-leans into the touch until the motion tugs at the hole through his gut.

“Where are you– what’s wrong?” There’s a franticness to Grian’s voice as he drops to his knees at Scar’s back. The panic there is at odds to his careful hands, so painfully careful. The one on Scar’s neck stays steady, the other skimming over his back close enough for him to feel its heat. “Where are you hurt? Scar. Tell me where you’re hurt.”

Scar’s fingers are white-knuckled with pain, his unsteady heart hammering in his chest. “Stomach,” he manages, panting through his nose. Grian’s hands are so warm against his shoulder, the back of his neck. He slumps into them, gratefully, lets Grian catch him and lower him down to the floor. The floor is nice. Cool. Solid. Not pitching and yawing, like the rest of the world is around him. “Nnn. Back. Went. Went through…”

The front of his shirt is very, very wet, the red leeching into the thick fabric at the waist of his pants. Wet enough he’s half surprised there’s anything left in his body. Maybe there isn’t, with how cold he is, how hard his heart is beating in his chest.

“Oh my– Scar. Scar.” Grian’s hands, unerringly, find the wound on his stomach amidst the bloodsoaked mess that is his waistcoat and shirt, and press down. Scar cries out, and grabs at Grian’s wrist, one leg half-spasming against the floor in hindbrain-reflex. His nails dig in hard enough to draw blood of his own. Grian ignores it. “What happened?”

“Moon big. Werewolves– very,” mumbles Scar, and it’s incomprehensible, but it’s the best he can do. Everything feels very cold, and very slow. It’s getting harder to breathe. He clutches at Grian’s sleeve and has the brief, insane thought that at least his blood won’t show too much against the red wool. “Grian.”

“Rendog.” Grian’s eyes sharpen, and for a moment, there’s a ripple of deepest ruby through his dark irises. “I’ll kill him. I’m going to kill him–”

That’s the thing with the other place – it never really leaves you. It’s never really left any of them, apparently.

“Grian,” Scar says again, instead of it’s okay, instead of please, instead of I’m so sorry it’s still got you, too. He tugs on Grian’s sleeve, harder this time. His stomach has started to burn, with the flickering heat of stomach acid leaking into his bloodstream. “Need–”

Grian draws in a hissing breath through his teeth, and the red fades from his gaze. “Right. Right. Potions, right, got it, okay, where did I leave–” He catches his lower lip between his teeth, bites down on it hard enough that the chapped skin there threatens to split. “Scar. Scar, I need you to– you need to press down, okay? You need to, while I’m getting the potion, I need you to keep pressure–”

Scar groans, low and exhausted, but lets Grian fold his own unsteady hands over the hole in his gut. Obediently, with Grian’s encouragement, he presses down.

Lightning flashes, white-hot, through his abdomen. His brain stutters, tries and fails to reboot, and gets stuck in an ungodly loop of unfathomable, yawning pain. Someone, somewhere, is making an awful wounded-animal keening, and he wishes they would stop.

It takes him something like an eternity to realise that the someone is him.

Glass, cold and smooth, presses against his mouth, bruises his lip against the teeth behind it with shaky haste. He’s not aware enough to part his lips for it, but his mouth is already slack with pain, and the potion drips thick and viscous down his throat with relative ease. Some of it slides out the corner of his mouth, tracing the trail of blood there.

It’s cold on his tongue, and bitter, and ever so slightly effervescent. His stomach begins to writhe, intestines turned to snakes, and his whimpers briefly ratchet up to screams. They echo, in the hollow of the storage room.

Grian cries out with him – maybe his name, maybe nonsense. He can’t tell. He can’t hear through the agony of organs reforming, flesh knitting together, skin growing over in thin sheets.

And then, abruptly, it is over. The pain fades, like cold water tossed on a fire. He is left sick and bloody and panting, sprawled on the floor, trembling and cold and still whimpering softly.

“–I’m here,” Grian’s whispering, his forehead pressed to Scar’s, one hand fisted white-knuckled in Scar’s hair. He’s shaking. Scar’s blood is still wet in the cracks of his knuckles, in the whorls of his fingerprints. “I’m here, Scar, I’m here, I’ve got you, it’s– you’re going to be okay, you’re fine, you’re okay–”

“…Shh.” Scar is, for once, too tired for much artifice. He raises an unsteady hand, and taps Grian’s cheek, leaving blood smeared there too. “M’okay. All okay, thanks to you. C’mon. C’mon now.”

He takes a chance, and props himself up onto one elbow. It aches, but no more than a badly strained muscle, and he chances sitting up, shuffling himself until he’s slumped against a nearby barrel. His new skin, much to his relief, holds.

Grian draws in a shuddering breath, and then another, before exhaling slow and unsteady and curling close to tuck his head beneath Scar’s chin. He does not let go of Scar’s hair. “I’m going to kill him,” he mutters, against the sweat-soaked collar of Scar’s shirt. Scar, carefully, does not mention the hot tears against his neck. “I’m going to– Octagon, him and Doc, their whole base, I’m– I’m going to pack it with more TNT than they’ve seen in their lives, the whole place, all of their stupid walkers too, and then I’m going to–”

“Grian,” says Scar, wearily. “Not that I don’t love the enthusiasm, but I… don’t think that was Ren. Not really. Not… not our Ren, anyway.”

There’s a moment, and then some of the violence in Grian’s shoulders bleeds out, slowly. “I mean,” he says, and his voice sounds a little more him again, a little less the thing that the other world made him into. “Yeah, I know, moon big, things weird, Ren maybe possessed or whatever, but– Scar, he hurt you.”

Something about the way he says it makes Scar’s heart skip a half-beat.

“And you’ve done an amazing job fixing me up,” says Scar, though his stomach still feels like it’s held together with scotch tape and a prayer, soft and tender and aching. Grian’s hand tightens in his hair, around the collar of his shirt. “So it’s okay. It’s all okay now, isn’t it?”

“No.” Grian clutches at him harder still, hard enough his scalp begins to ache. “No, it’s not, Scar, and you know it.”

The thing is, Scar does know it. None of this – not the moon, not Ren, not the looming threat of that other world hanging over them like a sword of Damocles – is okay in the slightest. And he also knows, however much they might kid themselves, however much they might worry and plan and plot and rage, that there is not a single thing either of them can do about any of it.

“…Well,” he says, because he’s not sure where to even start with any of that, and because saying any of those things would be far too much honesty on top of an already regrettable number of lapses this evening. For some reason, Grian always brings out the worst in him, in that respect. Always brings out the truth in him. “Okay– say it’s not all okay. What can we do about it? What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

It’s not a challenge, but he can tell Grian takes it as one, because he untangles himself from Scar and sits back on his heels in an easy crouch, scowling. Scar’s hair follicles appreciate their sudden freedom.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, for a start,” says Grian, determinedly, as though that will solve all their problems entirely. As though Scar gets no say in the matter. In all fairness, he probably doesn’t. “And I am going to kill Rendog. Big moon or no, you can’t just– just go around stabbing people, Scar! It’s bad manners!”

That shocks a laugh from him, followed by a groan, as the half-healed softness of his insides slide against each other with the motion. Grian rears forwards, alarmed, hands outstretched as though to– what? Keep his intestines in place, manually? Hold the edges of the new thick, ropy scar across his abdomen together, with only fingers? The thought is so absurd, it gives Scar a fit of the giggles. Painful giggles, but giggles nonetheless.

When he finally regains control of himself, Grian’s scowling, and there’s another potion bottle pressed to his lips. He drinks it, greedily, gratefully, and exhales unsteady relief as some of the residual pain bleeds out of him. “Stabbing people, bad manners, okay, got it,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of one shaky hand. “But taking someone’s base down to bedrock with more TNT than any man should own? That’s just the, you know, just the pinnacle of politeness.”

“Exactly.” Grian, despite his scowl, sounds almost smug. Without asking, without aplomb, he crawls into Scar’s lap – tucks his pointy elbows in close, folds himself so his head fits under Scar’s chin, hums softly to himself in the way he sometimes does when he gives out hugs. “It’s only fair! What’s that phrase Doc likes? Oh yeah – proportional retribution. Ren needs to learn that his actions have consequences.”

“Crazy,” murmurs Scar, faintly, fondly. He rests his chin atop Grian’s head, lets Grian’s hair tickle his nose, and just breathes for what feels like the first time in an eternity. There’s a deep warmth settling in his belly; probably the potion working the last of its magic. His eyes slip half-closed, heavy-lidded. “You’re a crazy man.”

Grian preens, which mostly involves tucking himself even more firmly against Scar’s chest with a small, pleased noise. “Well,” he says, smug no real reason that Scar can tell and oddly endearing with it. “You know. One of us has to be.”

Which is, of course, blatantly untrue, and a nonsensical thing to say to boot. But in the flickering torchlight of the shop, Scar – worn out, still aching, pinned down by the man in his lap – decides to let it stand. There’s no need to start an argument. He’s safe, for now, tucked somewhere warm and bright and hidden from the moon and Ren and whatever other horrors are waiting outside Midnight Alley. He’s got Grian, and a stomach without a hole through it, and sleep tugging at the corners of his thoughts for the first time in weeks.

And that, for now, is enough.

#goodtimeswithscar #rendog #grian #hermitcraft #scarian #but only if you squint #hints of treebark i guess also. but like. One Hint hrghg #hermitfic #hermits crafting #fic #other people's things #other people's art #rhydart #that is a LOT of admin tags woof #written to a bunch of songs:#the killing kind by marianas trenches #there's something in the water by rory webley #and apricots by bicep #also i SAY 'only if you squint'#but like............ lads is it platonic to threaten to murder someone and destroy everything they own bc they hurt your bestie???#can i platonically press my forehead to my bestie's forehead and cry with him for his pain. asking for a friend.#every fic im like. [character] do you want to talk about your feelings? 'i want to talk about my feelings' yes grian 'im sad' we know grian #also. also. that art am i right #that ART #rhy is fucking phenomenal and if you're not following her you should be #im in love w it it's just. so so good....................

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 3 years ago

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Infected/Undead Boyfriend (Ryan Chen) 3 (FINALE)

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Part 1 - Part 2

Warning: some language. Long chapter ahead!

When It Rains, It Pours Part 3 (FINALE)

It was always raining in November-– or was it now December?

It was hard to tell: the rain had turned harder and harsher, solid ice and snow fell across what was desolate and overgrown lands, where the city life grew smaller, a distant reminder that they still hung in an area. The coating of snow grew harsher the more the days passed, and bitter was its storms and winds to you and your surroundings.

How you managed to get out before losing yourself was an amazement to you and those of your rescuers.

"Hey, five minutes before we depart—you good?"

You blinked lazily, back to the surrounding sounds that were not of the dead crawling and walking on the grounds, of laughter and joy that you had missed and forgotten the sounds of. You remembered where you were: the warmth of the fire spreading across your limbs as you looked up from the floor, a hand in reach for you to take.

Justin was the first and the only one you had really spoken and befriended who wasn't a relative to you, a friend you shared rum and morbid chats with when the two of you were on night duties, staring up at nothing by the sky. He was cute: brown hair and eyes, pretty smile, but he was just another hole filled.

'Okay, okay, humour me with this,' He asked you when the blizzard was raging outside of your camp, the howling winds rattling against the iron doors. 'If you could take anyone with you, in the world, where would you go and with who?'

There was only one name that came to mind that night, the lines of your face creasing as you smiled sadly. 'You'll have to let me think about that one.'

"You good, tiger?" You took his hand as he hauled you up to your feet, dusting away the snow from your worn jeans. "You seem... out of it. You can tell me, I can get someone else to do this if you're not feeling up to it."

"No, it's fine, I'll be out in five." There was a haunting, dreadful pause from Justin, observing you silently when time didn't seem to go any faster, before he nodded, heading out of the hall, his distant figure fading through the groups of crowds waiting.

You gathered your things slowly, fumbling with the leather jacket, dipping your fingers into the deep pockets, fumbling with the smooth edge of the card still occupying it. Never did it seem to lose its feel, thankfully. Get a grip on yourself. You sighed, securing your knife into your boot. Three years... three fucking years and you still mourn.

The snow had settled once you had been brave to face it, crunching satisfyingly under your boots each step you took to the stables, waiting there was Justin and a few others you didn't take time in memorising their names.

"You ready?" Justin asked, strapping more ammo into his backpack. "Help yourself to some more. Heard there's infected up north from here roaming. Potentially they could come down."

"Yeah, thanks." You grabbed a large bar, stuffing it away before paying attention to the black stead you had named Diamond. "Hey, girl. Ready to stretch those legs?"

The beauty snorted almost in reply, a genuine smile gracing your features when you had clamoured up, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the arduous journey that would take place. An hour away from the Jackson base was the Crow's Nest: the barren hub used to scout the area, to keep eye on roaming hordes.

"The snow has settled, but with it, the dead grow. Watch out for yourselves, keep close to the path and don't stray." Justin gave final warnings before you all set off, the large electric gates of the once well-known powerplant creaked open, a vast, vicious cold greeted you the moment you stepped out.

The journey left you frozen and missing the heat from indoors, reminding yourself why you had gone out in the first place was to get away from everyone, but now you had dearly missed the sweet sight of civilisation creeping back to normal. I can be back and everything will be fine. You told yourself, and you foolishly believed it.

When you finally arrived, there were little dead who had managed to get through the other side of the pen, and taking them out was no issue. The base on top was all but a cosy place: desolate, reeking of decay and too cold. When you finally reached the windows that showcased the cast white outside, did you finally breathe out in somewhat respite.

"See that out there, that's the city you came from, right?" Justin pointed out to what looked like nowhere, but even where the sky and snow met with vast starkness, there was still an outline of a desolate and barren city, broken and crumbling skyscrapers still reaching to the chilling sky.

It was miles out, you realised, but the routes out were like a maze on its own.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of going in there for fun?" You asked, the man beside you rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "You would have to be fucking insane to want to go back in there."

"Even so, what kept you sane?"

The name you so missed to say was on the tip of your tongue, memories that swept through your mind nearly brought you to tears. Maybe, in some reality, the two of you could've been that couple, living out your days in a decaying city, filled with dead, going down as the world would never miss you. But in some ways, it was for the good. You blinked the tears away before any could fall.

"Faith, a hell of a lot of it." The winter sun was dead as well as the last of those memories. "I'm done with it, done for good."

In the distance, when the snow settled quietly, a dull, thunderous cry, followed with the faint sounds of bangs going off, a chorus that never seemed to quieten, only did its cries grow louder and louder, until-

"Infected have made their way into the bunker!"

You turned with Justin in surprise, the thuds of gunshots and its chambers thudded in time with your heartbeat, rousing the adrenaline as you moved like clockwork to make your way back down, back into the darkened, gloomy hallways so narrow it barely fitted enough, but now stood with both humans and dead.

Even war has never looked like this. There were bodies already, a mixture of dead taken down and those who had fallen, bleeding to the ground in puddles, eyes frozen and bodies stiff. "Come with me down to the east wing." Justin guided you away from the onslaught, away from the crowded corridors as the two of you run further away from the noises.

"You know how many they'll be?" You rasped, trying to steady your breathing, the grip on your knife straining your fingers.

"I don't know," Justin answered. "But whatever you do, don't think recklessly. You're a strong fighter, so don't think about dying."

"I could say the same with you." You stopped when you stopped outside the double doors, slightly ajar and smeared blood wiped across the handles and door. "You ready?"

No. You thought. I don't even want to be here. "Yes."

The door was opening wider before you could realise: the noise loud and shrilled, as were the following, inhumane cries and shrieks that followed. Through the darkness of the room: the boiler room, you could see, maybe four or five dead, twitching and grotesque.

And two of them charging towards you both.

Justin made light work of the largest one, leaving you to deal with the other, all snarling and baring its mangled, blackened teeth. You reared back as it did too, causing you to collapse into the wall but not fall, supporting yourself and keeping its head from coming any closer to the flesh of your face or neck.

You struggled for what felt like forever, until you kicked it as far away from you, shoving it into Justin's grip as you charged, using your knife to lodge it into the jellied head, one final cry came before its head slumped, black blood seeping through.

"Good job," Justin let it drop against the wall. "A bit quieter would've been better though."

"Yeah, thanks though." You caught your breath, iron in your throat when you exhaled, feeling like knives stabbing you a thousand times, not helping with the cold of the room. "Shall we continue onwards?"

"We could take down the rest of these- Hey, watch out!"

You turned in time to hear the raucous grunt of something collide into the side of you, causing you to stumble, crashing into the boiler behind you, the wind knocked from you with such force, your vision dotted. "Shit!" Justin shouted from the darkness, and you could hear the struggle, gunshots and more animalistic roars. "Justin! Are you okay?"

"Go! I'll distract it!" You heard his retreating voice, the heavy footsteps follow before you had time to catch the large creature leave, a dreadful smell of mildew and rotting flesh filled your nostrils, almost making you gag.

"Fuck." You grunted to stand, head dizzy, aware that the noises and clicks were coming from the rest of the dead in the surrounding area you shared with them. "Shit!" Quickly, you picked up the blade fallen, dodging the remaining dead as you continued in a haze through to the back of the room, hopping over the wall to get through to the bunker. The sounds of the dead never faltered, sounding all around you and nowhere at all, limbs shaking, clothes drenched not with water.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die—I'm fucked, I'm fucked. You tried to keep moving, but you kept running into dead ends and parts cornered off, leading you to believe that there would be no way of escaping.

Something scampered in your peripheral, large and skinny, you braced for the worst when its shadowed body crawled around in the dark, closer and closer. You pulled your gun out, trying to steady your breathing and keep an eye on it. It didn't move like any of the other dead—perhaps a new one you weren't aware of.

You decided to try and take a shot, the bullet ricocheting off a pipe and exploding with gas, letting out and creating a thick, never-ending mist that you found hard in trying to see through. There was the sound of shoes scraping against the floor, someone running towards you and grabbing you, and you screamed, their face guarded as you tried fighting them off you, away from the floor so they wouldn't have full control over you.

Your fingers gripped the gun, reminding yourself to not let go of it, and you finally- after some struggle- kicked the creature in the stomach, letting it stumble back as you finally tried to take another shot.

In the mist that was fading slowly as you tried to focus, the legs of the figure finally appeared, a full body appearing like someone of a horror film, head turned from you as you squinted to whatever was standing in front of you, your time to take the shot faltering.

"Ryan?"

The lithe humanoid figure was as dishevelled as you could recall once he twisted his torso to look back on you. A distant memory that floated in your mind, of peace and tranquillity, it now stood in front of you as some bitter, warped illusion. He was everything you remembered of him, the same clothes but now wearing a different jacket to the one you still wore in honour, his hair seemed longer, more messy and unkempt, strands pulled out from the bun, guarding his soft, unsteady dark eyes. He looked thinner from the last, a walking apparition whose skin was washed pale and bruised black and blue, his cheeks hollowed and eyebags darkened.

"Oh, god," the grip on the trigger loosened shakily, eyes dotting with sudden tears. "It's you, isn't it? I'm not fucking dream, am I?"

The man didn't seem responsive at first, playing into the belief he was some sort of hallucination after all, but his mouth opened, a quiet voice answering. "Yes, it's me."

The noise that left your parted lips was shaky and warbled, a string of tears flowing down your cheeks when everything slowly fell apart. "Why," your words were twisted and you fumbled clumsily. "Why... why did you leave?"

He was silent, the hard struggle in understanding what he was thinking. He seems… ashamed. You thought, watching his shifting eyes. You watched the pain that didn’t seem to be hidden beyond his eyes, even when he spoke. “… You belonged with them, not me.”

“How would you know that? I—you could’ve come with me, Ryan. We’re an open community, we can help you-”

“No,” his voice was strained, his eyes more red than usual. “I can’t be fixed.” He lifted his black t-shirt, the skin bruised as his face had been, inflamed and almost maimed. “I was bitten.”

“But you didn’t turn.”

“No,” his smile was soft, downturned. “Perhaps turning would’ve been the better option. But I live with these decisions. You need people, not me.”

“Ryan,” you took a hesitant step towards him, still, the tears fell. “Do you know I still think about you? Even after all these years.”

“No,” he laughed silently, his eyes glassy and cold. “I did too. A lot.”

“Please, please come with me. I promise you, we can help you—we could fix you.”

Ryan watched, not showing signs of moving away from you as you slowly made your way to him, outreaching your hand for him to hold. Just… just to hold once more, to feel him again. How you craved it like it was a lifeline.

“I—I can’t describe how I’m feeling right now.” His words were hushed when you were close to him, feeling his breath fan against your wet cheeks. “You don’t have to describe anything,” you murmured. “Just… let it happen.”

He leant into you first, his lips were warm and memories swarmed in your mind like you were drowning. His being, his smell: so sweet and inviting, your memories were swelling and rising, bringing a feeling of levitating, back to a time when you felt loved and needed. Back in his arms in an excluded room, forgotten altogether but in each other’s arms.

When you pulled away, he leant his forehead against yours, warm and damp from cold. “I missed you so.” He muttered softly. You had so many thoughts, too many emotions that everyone argued with things they wanted to say before the other. But the same thing was in your mind, replaying over and over again.

It plagued you, as you took his hand into your own, squeezing as if your life depended on it. “Ryan, I-”

Your words were there, masked and clipped from the noise that came from in front of you, a large reverberating noise that was sharp and rung, smoke appearing as Ryan stumbled forward, allowing you to catch him. He was limp, colder than usual and not from the cold. He was shaking, muttering something in a quiet, weak voice, but you couldn’t hear him, even when you flipped him carefully, seeing his mouth open and close, you looked up in time to witness the devastated eyes of someone you wanted to forget.

“Get away from it,” Justin’s words were followed by him stepping closer between the two of you, gripping your shoulder. “You’re lucky I came in time. I heard gunshots, I got worried-”

“You shot him.” You weakly said, frozen and still holding Ryan, the grip on him still tight and there for him to know you were still holding onto him, keeping him safe.

Justin seemed as confused as he tried lifting you off the ground, “I’m trying to help you, that thing-”

“Stop it. Stop it!” You swatted his hand away sharply, reaching around to hold and stabilise Ryan, the shot to his stomach was bleeding profusely, soaking through your fingertips. “He’s dying, he’s fucking dying.”

“Hey, hey, what—” he said your name, shaking you out of the breakdown. “It’s infected—look at me, what do you mean?”

“I love him, Justin! I know him, I know him! Ryan Chen, he’s not one of them!” You were blubbering and muttering constantly before your eyes landed on Justin’s, wild and red and sore. “Help me, please, I can’t lose him again.”

Justin hesitated once more, before he urged himself forward, peeling the heavy bag from his back to bring out the gauze and wrappings, whilst you sat and remained rigid, and you wished you could’ve stayed where you had been, to begin with.

You noticed now, how quiet things could be when you were left with just your thoughts, alone in the world when you pushed so many away. Your fingers were knotted together tightly, wrung together in a tangle when you fidgeted, nothing to distract you from the unknown time ticking.

“Hey, you’re the girlfriend of “Ryan”?”

You looked up to the woman who had come through to greet you in the small waiting room, blinking away your thoughts to be back with the present. “Yeah, yes… how is he doing?”

“He just came out of surgery and is in a stable condition.” Relief was one of the emotions you were feeling, but it was hard to explain anything else at that moment. “You can go in to see him shortly.”

“Thank you.” A gentle hand pressed into your shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “Hey, he’s gonna be okay. He seems strong.”

“He is,” you uttered sadly. “He’s a fighter.”

“Ryan! Take it easy! We’ve got all night!”

Your laughter was bubbling, easy and light, as you were led down the long path, where the trees grew in size and foliage, grew thickest, hiding your bodies as you ran beneath the moonlight. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“We’re almost there.” He was not as out of breath as you had been, but his smile was bright and blooming, skin radiant as if he was reborn. “I’m not dragging you back to get more stitches.” The two of you stopped eventually, continuing at a brisk pace until you reached the end of the hill, watching over the once city the two of you had resided in, distant yet glooming.

“It… it still looks like shit as I remember it to be.” You exhaled, looking over Ryan from your right side. “That place still holds a lot to remember, don’t you think? The outbreak, the deaths, the burning of bodies.”

“I got to meet you.”

“You did,” you squeezed his hand encouragingly. “After I fell through the ceiling. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You shared a laugh, all thoughts aside when you stared across the distance. That city did hold some darkness and pain to you, but you knew that you would get out of there, not as one, but as two.

#zombie boyfriend #zombie apocalypse #zombie apocolypse au #Modern Monsters #infected boyfriend #infected boyfriend x reader #infected monster exophilia #monster exophilia #gn reader #gn reader x male monster #monster lover #male monster #infected monster x gn reader #part 3 #finale

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charm-in-spades · 2 years ago

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IП MΣMӨЯY ӨF...

𝙰𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 | 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 # 𝟷𝟸 | 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to return to the little La Noscea bunker he’d once called a home. Thoughts of his old mentor had made him look into his old haunts, and this had been one of them on the list. Three turns, maybe four (Had it been four already?) had passed regardless of complaint or desire and the building had long since found itself overgrown with jungle vine and creeping moss since his last visit.

La Noscea was still as wild as ever, but he breathed in the temperate air and the salty breeze that pushed through the palmettos in a sense of growing familiarity and found himself releasing a heavy sigh to it all. The cermet walls had withstood the test of time, and would continue to do so for many turns more he was sure, but you’d be hard-pressed to know anything was here at first if you didn’t know where to look.

The doors to the old building had rusted shut, and it took the prying of a crowbar and considerable strength to force them back open where they remained without closing. It was dark and foreboding, the lights unresponsive and the air contained within the walls stagnant and stale. Ambient sunlight filled the entry way, providing him enough illumination to make his way to the corner of the room without tripping over the bolted down power cords that lined the grated metal of the floors.

He found the facility generator and after refueling it with ceruleum he located from the stock room, it rattled to life with a mechanical whir and hum. By his mentor’s assessment, the tek utilized here had been ancient by comparison to the modern standards even back when they’d cobbled the place together yet it remained functional. Reliable, like so few things in his life had been.

Cobwebs and dust clung to every surface once the illumination modules flickered to life, and he began getting everything else turned on to see what could be salvaged and what could be repaired. He didn’t think he’d remain here as the memories of a man long gone still haunted him, but he could take what he wanted and restore it eventually.

He started first by checking all the power supplies and assessing the engine cores for the various terminals and the machines attached to them. Of the five, three were in working condition, and of those three, once diagnostics check had been completed, only one was fully operational and not riddled with error codes and issues. Of the two that would not turn on, he was certain he could salvage one by cannibalizing parts from the other.

Several reroutes later, and an overall reboot to the systems contained within, his surveillance relay faded into visibility upon one of the old magitek screens. It flickered and seemed to struggle to stay on but showed parts of Vylbrand, mostly centered around the Castrums and old patrol routes of the now deposed Imperial Army. There was next to no enemy movement around any of them, but it was nice to see what his old bits might still be keeping track of.

Several static filled squares upon the visible screens made him aware that a few of his bits were out of commission, though he could likely identify last known coordinates and triangulate an area of recovery for them. If he even bothered looking. There was a lot of old magitek that had died and become part of the island here in Vylbrand. He was compelled by habit at least, to go looking for them at some point if only because he preferred his things secure and private. He recalled what was left of the active units, and awaited their return.

While doing so, he went back into the storage room to remove crate after crate and box after box of old junk he’d hardly remembered he’d had in the first place. Ceruleum tanks and ammo cases full of wrapped wires and parts. A filing cabinet full of tomestones and schematics he’d recovered from a sunken Imperial vessel. Magitek bits and Allagan node parts. Tekked out armor, and droid chassis. All abandoned at one point or another, but reclaimed now that he was here.

The greater span of his morning and afternoon were spent clearing things out and separating them into piles of what would and wouldn’t work. Trash or treasure. There were troves of wealth to any mechanic here and it was clear that he had thrived in this place once upon a time. The sheer volume of parts and pieces were a testament to that fact.

It was as he was dragging a large case full of vehicle parts aside that a series of beeps lightly sounded the alarum of approaching visitors. He paused what he was doing, briefly setting his verdant gaze to the screens to look over the surveillance available to him. He expected to see an antelope crossing one of the main roads, or a marmot climbing up a tree. He saw neither, and with a squint he squared his broad shoulders to the sight available to him, and set the box he carried down with a grunt so that he could step out into the sun.

A set of field dressed Yellow Jackets trudged through the rainforest, breaking through the treeline just as Caelric stepped out of his jungle bunker to meet them. He stood at the door, using a towel to wipe the ceruleum and oil from his hands while they looked at him in apparent surprise that he awaited them so expectantly.

“You boys lost?” He asked, inked frame squaring as the small unit slowly eased towards him and stopped a few paces away. One of the bunch stepped forward, a corporal he recognized from the City that typically manned the lifts and reached for his belt. It was a move that Caelric clocked, wondering instantly if a weapon was to be drawn and he readied for the possibility as the weight of static slowly filled the air.

"Depends on if we’ve ended up at the right place. Caelric Spadille?” The corporal asks as he withdraws an envelope from his side satchel and offers it forward. At that, Caelric pauses and the coming storm seemed to fade.

“Used to be. I was clearing out.” Caelric informs after a moment, reaching forward to take the missive. “Corporal Blanmhas, right? What do we have here? Court summons? A cease and desist?” He asks, more rhetorical than anything as he ripped open the wax seal bearing the Limsan standard on it to see for himself.

“Neither. This be a letter from the Admiral, commending exemplary service and gratitude for one Lieutenant François Lareaux due to his commitment to La Noscea and its citizens. Granting land and property for all his efforts.” Of all the thing the clever Coyote could expect, this was one of the last. He felt a pang in his chest at the mention of his old mentor, and he let out a deep breath to steady himself.

“...Frank is dead.” He says after a moment, bluntly and pointedly so.

“That he is.” Blanmhas agrees solemnly. “But he named you his working heir within his last will and testament, thus all that belonged to him now goes to you. The Admiral owed the man a debt. Seems to me she’s paying it off by providing what he earned to you. You may report to her office for further detail if you so wish, but she has transportation awaiting you come the morn at the Moraby Drydocks.”

Caelric blinked, surprised by that new information. He’d been unaware that Frank had even had a will or that his connections had extended so far, but he knew the man was one of many secrets and he reflected on that a moment as he read the letter over.

𝔏𝔱. 𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔰 𝔏𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔵 𝔖𝔦𝔵𝔱𝔥 𝔏𝔢𝔳𝔶

𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓜𝓘𝓢𝓢𝓘𝓞𝓝 𝓞𝓕 𝓛𝓐𝓝𝓓 𝓐𝓝𝓓 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓟𝓔𝓡𝓣𝓨

ℑ𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔵𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔏𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔞 𝔏𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔞 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰, 𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔄𝔡𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔩𝔴𝔢𝔟 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔶 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔏𝔱. 𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔰 𝔏𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔢𝔲𝔵 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔠 𝔡𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔢𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔥 𝔄𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔈𝔯𝔞. 𝔗𝔦𝔩 𝔖𝔢𝔞 𝔖𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔄𝔩𝔩.

𝔖𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡,

𝔄𝔡𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔴𝔶𝔟 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔢𝔣𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔴𝔶𝔫

It was as the corporal had said. A distant plot of land for the late Francois and now, for him. Even in death, the man looked out for him. He cast a baleful look towards the sky and the serendipity of having come here in the first place, considering the inner workings of Fate and its potential hold on him.

He tucks the missive into his belt, looking back to the corporal. He extends a hand to the roegadyn, and they clasp strongly a brief moment. “Got it. Transpo in the A.M. I won’t miss the boat.” He rumbles assuredly.

With his mission complete, the corporal offered a sharp salute and turned to his comrades. “Our work is done, boys. Time to get a bloody drink.”

Caelric pursed his lips, looking at the unfinished project of scattered magitek and storage boxes. He had a lot to go through, and after shutting the doors to the stone building he turns to the Yellow Jackets that had made their way out to him.

“Wait up. I could use a drink too.”

#Miss the Boat #Prompt 12 #FFXIV Write 2022 #Stories

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sugarakis-p2 · 3 years ago

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Shigaraki's Muse ch 24

The League of villains are in luck, Dabi finally found a recruit, but he doesn't want to share. She's too cute, too sweet, and likes to party. Only downside is his little nurse has principals, she hates both villains and heroes, but wants to heal all. Dabi can handle it, but worse is she has caught the eye of the leader of the league of villains. Can she escape the Leagues attention, will she survive to see the heroes save the day? Or will she be around just long enough to see it all destroyed?

Warning: SFW chapter, cussing, mild violence and refers to a Dabi short called uncensored comments

Shigaraki is feeling blue, Ember is starting to reconsider her capitol punishment ideals with her new roommate, Kai. Nothing seem to go right for either of them. But today Ember gets to find out if she is having a Cyrus or a Hana. It's ok, Terror daddy is going to step in and protect his babygirl.

Chapter 23 < previous

Chapter 24: Seems real enough

Shigaraki couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

He wanted to sleep. It was the only place he could bask in Ember’s warmth. The large stuffed unicorn still smelled like her, and he inhaled deeply, remembering how she would brush his hair aside to kiss his scars. He scrolled through pictures and videos of her. They helped, but he still felt a vast void growing in his soul. He didn't care about anything other than her.

They had some more money after recording their abuse of the sidekick. Dabi held an auction with the dark web porn patrons. Those people were more disturbed than them. Those freaks paid through the nose to have her tortured for days. What the rest of the League did, he couldn’t be bothered. He recorded, he decayed her, but it was mercy at that point. He really didn’t know he had that kind of compassion left in him.

The lackeys came back, they were smart enough to record the mailbox, so he didn’t kill them. After a day, they checked on the envelope, and it had disappeared. Probably some quirk nomu bullshit. He rubs his face in the unicorn, trying to forget how he flew into a rage and decayed the sidekick. Good thing Mustard was quick with the camera.

That feeling hadn't left him. All he wants is Ember back. Why is that too much to ask for? He is starting to become drowsy, a part of him was excited he would see his Ember soon, but he forced it down to drift to sleep. It always ended with him asking her how he could save her.

His eyes are heavy when a massive cracking sound of the roof being torn off of his hideout. It made him jerk and decay the stuffed unicorn. He disintegrated his favorite connection to her beautiful light. It helped him sleep, it helped him see her, it helped him feel her and this giant asshole made him destroy it. Destroyed his only thread of sanity left.

“Weak! WEAK!” It was screaming.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he hissed, rising and shaking with rage. The dust drifted off his jacket. He started to climb his way up to attack this overgrown baby that severed his thread. The rest of the League arrived late to the party.

“He’s going to get killed,” Toga wailed. Dabi nodded and sighed. This was the gift, huh? Shigaraki sure as fuck didn’t like it. The cluttered room was getting thrashed, making it worse.

“Packrat, better grab Ember’s things, or he will blow up at us,” Dabi says casually.

“It looks dangerous,” he squeaks. Dabi gives him a look that lets him know that Dabi will kill him if he doesn’t grab Ember’s things.

The doctor's voice floats in over the radio around the beast's neck, informing Shigaraki needed to make him submit to gain the real gift.

“No, I don’t. I don’t care. I don’t want it. I want Ember. I have been trying to contact you,” he rasped, dodging Gigantomachia. The Doctor cuts him off.

“Gigantomachia has an amazing sense of smell. He can find the bunker and crack it open like an egg. Get that little tart for you. I would make it quick since her food supply doesn't last forever. The baby too, so many things could go wrong with that,” the doctor says before cutting off the communication. Shigaraki was a spoiled brat, and he was getting exhausted with waiting. He listens, and yes, that motivates him. Shigaraki is really fighting now. He may get mad about Ember not being in the bunker but he will deal with that when they cross that bridge.

Ember is glaring at the armless man refusing to take a bite and being whiney.

“Come on, Kai, you need to eat. Just one bite, please,” Ember pleaded. The man babbled and mumbled about some pops guy and germs, “I swear there are no germs in it. Come on, there we go, sweetness.” Ember finally got him to take a bite.

“No one has ever called me sweetness,” he says after swallowing. Ember narrows her eyes in contempt.

“I bet. Would you like me to call you neutered child abuser?” She asked with a touch of venom. He shook his head no.

“Sweetness is fine,” he mumbled, taking another bite. Ember skillfully feeds him, quick to wipe away any spills.

“When you're done with that, get him to help you with your project,” Ujiko tells Ember. She nods forlorned and keeps trying to get Kai to eat. As he sits down to eat and mentally giggles at her misery. He was so happy when her stupid optimism finally got crushed. It was better this way; Ember was a much more capable caregiver.

Ujiko immediately turned the girl into a Nomu, to Kai’s approval. He didn’t want to try to convince her to reverse what was done to him. It was better if she was just a tool he could use, so he gave permission to turn her into a mini-factory as a nomu. In the agreement, he will help Ujiko, and Ujiko will make her reverse his condition. When Ember found out, she was less than receptive to the news. Ujiko is still upset. He doesn’t know how she found out. Nosey little bitch. Chronos initially took care of Kai, and he chuckles at the memory.

They were enjoying a meal Ember had cooked. Ujiko and Ember sat across the table, seething with hate at the babbling Kai and Chronos. Chronos could not get him to eat, and Kai was getting worse. He looked to Ember, who flipped him off.

“Si j'avais une bite je te la ferais sucer joli garçon,” she hissed and went back to eating. Ember enjoyed reverting back to her first language and insulting these men to their faces.

“Don’t need an interpreter for that. Look, this is your job. Help him,” Chronos ordered Ember. She shook her head.

“Reform school rules. I’m a bigger fish in this tank. If Doc tells me to, then sure. In the meantime, he has you, so I really don’t see the advantage of me stepping in a helping a couple of child killers,” Ember said, taking another bite. Legion is hovering over her like a mother hen.

“She was a danger, a singularity in her own right. She is not even dead, just in another state of being. We just did the world a favor,” Chronos growled back. Ember flipped him off.

“From the world, asshole,” She said, making Ujiko chuckle. Chronos looked at him, and Ujiko shrugged, pretending to ignore them as he ate. He was actually delighted at his personal soap opera.

“Well, if it’s prison rules, then all I have to do is make you,” Chronos stated.

"How are you going to make me, twig boy?" Ember laughed, quickly reaching out with her fork and flipping Kai’s tray. Food spilled in their laps, and it sent Kai into hysterics. Chronos stared at her with rage, “Whoops, guess you didn’t know your place. I suggest you clean him up and stop having a tantrum,” she calmly replied to his rage.

His hair reached out for her, which was a huge mistake. Legion was swift and snatched the hair, yanking Chronos off his feet and smashing him into a wall with a bloody splat.

“Goddammit! He didn’t deserve to die! Now look, I really do have to help this fucking monster,” Ember huffed as she went to comfort Kai. Who was repeatedly asking, ‘what happened?’

“Not allowed to touch the mother,” it rumbled.

“Well, it will be interesting using a fresh body. Legion, break off and carry him to the exam room. Legion splits in two, removing Chronos limb bleeding body.

“Where is Chronos?” Kai asked, pounding his head on a wall.

“He’s in a new state of being,” Ember said sadly. Maybe, just maybe, they did deserve this. A lump of coal that she was trying to smother sparked and burned a little. Ember hated this. Hated everyone.

She felt broken helping Kai.

She had to help him with everything. To the point Ujiko allowed her to be in the same room as his experiments. He had Legion make sure she didn’t touch anything other than Kai. The things they talk about are way above her education level. But she understands that a person dies during this process, it’s not a complete death, but it is a new kind of death Dr. Frankenstein Ujiko has created. She is going to try to run before he experiments on her. Mr. Tongue has been a fantastic help, sneaking her printouts and pudding. The days are long with this.

As time went on, Kai got better. Still, he seemed to revert to childlike behavior, bedwetting, and crawling into bed with her because he was afraid of the dark.

Ember wanted to be a mommy but never thought she would have so many. Kai had gotten over her germs pretty quickly, and she wished he hadn’t. She had to cover her bed with rubber sheets. If Ember doesn’t let him sleep in the same bed, he wails all night, and then she can’t sleep. If she can’t sleep, she can’t see the Terror or Tomura.

So, here she is, lying in bed with a docile praying mantis steadily breathing in her hair. She closes her eyes and listens to his breathing as a rhythmic lullaby. Until the blackness comes over her.

The inky blackness is lovely. Ember is starting to imagine it’s kind of a womb thing, safe and secure.

“Baby girl!” Terror shouts, and she goes running up, giggling in joy at seeing him. Hugging him tightly.

“Comment va mon papa? Avez-vous pris vos médicaments?” She says.

“Baby girl. Yes, I am taking my medication. You know I will do anything for you,” he says, with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“What the fuck is this?” She says, pointing to his face.

“Ok, I may have some bad news,” he says. Ember starts opening and closing her fists. Terror puts her in her tantrum room. It’s a dream room filled with stuffed unicorns where she can rage.

“Of fucking course! Of course, it’s not easy or nice! What? What!” She screams as she kicks unicorns. Flopping on her ass, red-faced and sweating, “Is it that you’ve been creeping on me having sex with Tomura? Is it that you lied to me about something? You are a lying liar, so not out of the realm of reality! Is it that you're giving up on the ONE FUCKING THING I ASKED FOR? Please! Do tell! Enlighten me!” She raged, tossing unicorns at his face.

The Terror is tranquility personified as he stands there. At the same time, the full-grown woman he loved, like a daughter, threw stuffed unicorns at him. Each one bounces off and adds to the never-ending pile until Ember is worn out.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“Maybe, depends,” Ember snarked. He sits down next to her and gives his sweaty girl a side hug.

“I stayed because if Shigaraki was going to hurt you, I was going to kill him and end the dream,” he says. She hits him with a unicorn.

“You never said you could do that! If I had known that, I wouldn’t have….” She trails off, blushing.

“I know. But I did say death is one way to end a dream. I didn’t want you to get hurt or trapped. I know you are mad, but guess what? If it ever comes down to you or anyone else, I will always choose you. I love you, and I would die for you,” he stated flatly. It is a truth. Ember feels it radiating off him. It makes her feel guilty over her real father, and she hates it. She wants to hate this man, but he radiates love for her so intensely she accepts it; otherwise, she is left with nothing, which scares her. Ember leans her head into him.

“Please, tell me that is the damn news,” she sulks. It’s hard to stay mad at a man who loves you that much. Great, a villain trained her how to love a villain. God, this makes her feel dumb.

“No. As you know, I have an idea where the bunker is. However, it will need a titan you bust through….so good news, Shigaraki knows of a titian that can do that. He is right now recruiting him. And here is where the news gets a little bad. I…I…may be the reason why you are here, to begin with,” he says, mouth drying up. Ember did not take this news well. He watched in mild horror as Ember violently burned an epitaph of him with sparks and blood.

“Ok, what? What do you mean? You may be the reason I am here?”

“AFO asked me about my quirk about a few years ago. At the same time, he also made small talk about my adopted daughter. I bragged. I had hubris about you, and now I’m starting to wonder whether I set this in motion. I know you are looking at me, wondering why I am telling you this? The man is evil and dangerous. Any plan he has that involves you means you need to distance yourself from anything he has touched. Tomura Shigaraki is not good for you! Get far away from all of them. Raise your baby in peace and happiness. If he really loves you, he will give up his villainous ways and attempt to be a good father. But we both know he would never do that because he’s a villain groomed by evil,” he said.

“Some would say the same about me. Groomed by evil. This changes nothing. Save Bakugou. I want to talk to Tomura, I will be careful, I promise,” Ember says cautiously. She doesn’t know how she feels about this news. She was surprised and ticked off more when he had learned the Terror had worked for AFO in the past.

“I am having trouble creating a link. Shigaraki is not fully asleep. Besides, I don’t think you should be getting so attached to him. He’s a villain, and have ‘accidents’ at the hands of heroes all the time, as you well know,” he said. She was stiffening in his arm, “I think I have a plan, but I will need you to make some sleep bombs as I showed you. Do you think you can do that?” He asked. She nodded, “Good girl. I have plan. When you feel a sudden jerk of sleep, any others in the room should feel it too. I want you to set it off. I may be in and out. If you do see me for a few days, don’t worry. You are going to be free. You are going to come home. Then we are going to hide you from these people and move on with your life,” He stated.

“Whoa. I-I-I don’t want to leave Tomura,” she says and then shuts up, casting her eyes down. The stern look he is giving her with his crossed arms makes her heat with shame.

“We have been struggling to keep you alive in their care. Do not argue. After this, if you are foolish enough to go back to him, I will not be coming to save you. Do you understand?” He loomed. Ember nodded slowly, on the verge of tears again.

“You’ve never said that before,” she said quietly.

“Said what?”

“Said out loud that you loved me. Do you mean it?” she asked, refusing to look at him. He softened, which is something she has not seem often with his sharp features.

“Absolutely, you are my everything,” he declared sincerely.

“I love him,” she said, her voice wobbling, “But I love you. I love this stupid evil baby. I don’t know what to do. Please, don’t make me choose.”

“You have to think of that baby first mon petit lapin. You are just a toy to them, and they have never done anything but use you. Shigaraki is not different from any other villain. You are starting to wake,” he tells her.

She didn’t want to wake up. At least not to the wet, cold mess she is laying in. She looks at Kai and sighs; bedwetting.

“Legion, help us out here,” she shouts at him. Legion split off and helped both.

“I am so glad your awake,” Ujiko says to a shrieking Ember, trying to cover herself.

“Calm down. You have nothing interesting. Today is finding out the sex day, so slip into this robe and get excited,” he announced, leaving. She is excited. Her little bump is going to be a Cyrus or a Hana. Then she started to feel strange about it. If she was not going to be with Tomura, should she use his sister's name? She wanted to cry. She didn’t want to think about it at all.

Legion takes her to the exam room, and she bounces off the walls with joy. Kai is there looking sad. She starts to chat with him like a manic bird about wall colors, how she thinks of taking up crochet, maybe knitting them all skull sweaters. Legion quickly snatches her up strapping her down to the examination table.

“Whoa, hey, what’s with the straps?” she asks, her joy turning to panic. Ujiko was quick with a needle. A wave of bliss rolls over her like an ocean. She feels like she is floating in the tide. All that fear just melted away.

“Thank god, you’re a drug addict. Don't worry we are going to get a look at that spawn,” he says as she giggles. Having the best day of her life as he squirts warm gel on her belly, “sometimes the old ways are the best. An ultrasound, cheap and easy. Looking very healthy, active, there it is. Look right there!” He rotates the screen and shows her little baby boy! Tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes. She was so happy.

"A little Cyrus. My little Cyrus," She beams with joy. She had mixed feeling until this moment, Ember feels a weight lift off her and for the first time in a long time feels genuine joy. Kai fidgets, looking more uncomfortable and nervous.

“Here, let’s make a little printout. It will inspire you to keep going once we start this process,” Ujiko says.

“Wh-wh-what?” Ember realizes she can’t move.

“We are going to be following Master’s wishes. We will be giving you two extra quirks today. Maybe more in the future. It should be mildly painless. But it will be a longer process than average for the baby. I am really interested in what will happen with the baby. Never done this before. Good thing we have Kai here," Ujiko says looking at the man fretting. Mumbling about his arms and how he needs Ember.

“Kai, Kai, sweetness. Please don’t do this. Don’t!” Ember pleaded. Tears run down her face as she struggles to get free. She tried to use her quirk, but the drugs were stomping it down. Kai looks away and shakes his head.

“I can’t. I made sure you won’t die, though. I need you,” he mumbles.

“Godammit! No! I am going to spit in all your food Kai!” Ember shouts. Kai whimpers but picks up a pen with his mouth, to peck at buttons like a scrawny bird she wants to wring the neck of. Legion holds her down to get the other needles in.

“I know you have reservations, but I want to reassure you: I don’t care. It’s happening. This might sting a little,” Ujiko announces. He flips the switch, and Ember screams. There is scorching heat through her body. She has never felt burning before. It is searing and hot on all her nerves, and she is sweating. What the hell is this! She arched her back and screamed until her throat felt like it was being ripped open. Kai carefully monitored her, complaining of how his hands might be getting hurt.

Shigaraki jerked awake in an inky void. He looks at the black wet ground and decides he did not wake up.

“What the fffu..” he started saying when a man in a black and white tuxedo appeared.

“Christ, my little girl can do so much better,” he says, adjusting his lapel. Shigaraki looks him up and down, lightly scratching his neck. He really wants to get back to trying to kill that overgrown baby.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m going to protect my little baby girl and kill your ass, fuck face,” Terror says, stretching. Shigaraki chuckles. This must be the Terror. Ember told him how she cared for this man like her father. It was a little disappointing he had to also fight for his life while he was asleep.

“The Terror, I presume?” He asks, lightly scratching his neck.

“You correctly presume dipshit. Let’s do this,” The Terror hisses morphing into his father.

Chapter 25

#shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia tomura #boku no hero academia shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #my hero academia shigaraki #yandere shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki fluff #shiggy #tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x oc #alternate universe

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filthycasualhobbies · 3 years ago

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The beginning (as yet untitled)

A/N: I have really been struggling with my writing lately, but recently was struck by an idea, the beginning of the story I 'teased' with the Secret Game bit, and made the effort to put myself in a position to actually write it. Some quiz determined I write from melancholy and that seems to be true, I love misery in my writing. The beginning of this beginning is quite sad, but ends well :) I hope you enjoy reading it and forgive me my liberties and inconsistencies <3

I thank you all for your kind words on the previous entry, I really appreciate the encouragement!!!! <3

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You sit near the entrance of your bunker staring blankly into the timefall. Inches away and you could end it just like they did.

It had been almost a month since that day. Your eyes drift to the edge of the cliff a few meters away, remembering the way their body had crumpled to the ground, wrinkled and desiccated despite the rain. Had they smiled? Smiled as they left the world in what they must have thought as peace. Smiled as they left you. Alone. You guess they figured they were doing you a favor, you were better off.

You should have known when they'd kissed you and held you tighter and longer than they were usually wont to. No. You'd known. You'd known it was goodbye and that's why you had followed them. Up the stairs, to the door, watching them pause at the edge of the metal, the flash of lightning illuminating their figure briefly. The following deafening crack of thunder had drowned out your screams of objection and they had walked out into the downpour.

It took a long while for the timefall to corrupt them, but they hadn't cried out, hadn't seemed to show any sign of pain. You'd watched the whole process, morbidly fascinated but too terrified to step out into the rain yourself, too terrified to drag them back and by the time you had almost plucked up enough courage to perhaps seek some timefall resistant gear and grab them, it was too late and a new terror clutched at your heart. The timefall wasn't letting up and you couldn't let them go necro and create a BT. Not here. Had they not considered that? Had they actually wanted to take you with them in the end? Coward. Selfish. The threat of having a BT just outside your door had motivated you enough to seek that gear and drag their body up the hillside where it might, at the very least, not get in anyone's way considering you didn't have the wherewithal to burn it. It had been slow going, and you had had to run back to the shelter as you noticed the material of your gear starting to erode, but you knew that the body was safe where it was; on an outcropping of rock overlooking your bunker.

Just as you're about to turn your gaze in that vague direction a sudden flicker of distant light in the murky air catches your eye. It looks like an odradek and you figure it's heading for a timefall shelter somewhere close in the valley.

It reminds you that you're running out of supplies. In your grief you hadn't been making any orders or answering any mail. It didn't matter, you're just another bunker, no one really knows you, and neither you nor they had ventured out much. You raise your eyes to the grey skies wondering what it had felt like to just walk out into the rain. It's as though your hand rises of its own volition, reaching out towards the seemingly innocent drops of water, the shimmering curtain they form just inches from your fingertips. They are so close to touching, to feeling...

Another flash of light below on the overgrown path to your bunker has you retracting your hand, standing to retreat slowly back toward the door, ready to bolt inside should whoever is heading your way prove hostile. It's clearly an odradek, but who would be crazy enough to be running around in this downpour? It's possible it's a rogue MULE, lunatic enough to go -looking- for something to grab, but as the scanner appears once more you calm yourself. It's blue, not yellow and now you're even more confused. What was a -Porter- doing out here?

You watch the porter make their way up the path, wondering if perhaps they had simply erred in their route and had meant to be closer to the creek nearby, but as they turn towards the bunker, you can only wait and see what they are here for. Their hooded, masked face raises to appraise their destination and they appear to pause a moment before approaching. Shortly they're past the perimeter beacons and standing before you just beyond the bunker's edge.

"You Y/N?"

You cross your arms defensively shiftingly slighty toward the door, appraising the stranger. "Yes, that's me. What are you doing here?"

The porter shrugs. "Got some deliveries for you. Folks down at the distro seemed to think you might be in some trouble as they hadn't gotten any orders from here for a bit."

Your chest tightens at this news, you weren't so forgotten after all. His voice wasn't familiar, but it had a charming twang. "It couldn't have waited until the weather changed? It's dangerous to be out in this kind of weather, the BT's..."

The stranger chuckles softly, mostly to himself it seems. "I could say the same to you. Strange to see someone outside their bunker. Anyway it's all good, I do better than most in this kind of situation and it was marked 'urgent' so I figured I'd take it." He turns his head, appearing to appraise the weather. "Say, do you mind if I step inside? My gear is pretty decent, but won't last forever in this shit."

Abashed, you beckon him into the terminal area. "Sorry, I'm really not used to visitors, well haven't been..."

"It's alright," he sighs, taking a moment to pull back his hood. Bright blue eyes gaze at you from the mask a moment before he pulls it off, tucking it under his arm. He smiles as he runs a gloved hand through his mussed dark blonde hair. The gesture instantly reassures you and you return it. "Name's Peter. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N. Now, what would you like me to do with these packages?"

#death stranding #higgs monaghan #death stranding fanfic #higgs x reader

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