#these things are not strange you just expect teens too look like infants | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crystal-moon-101 · 4 years ago

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So I’ve got three AUs here with The Secret Generator 10 Trio, and I drew them all together because they are all connected based on the same idea. In these AUs, instead of receiving their powers from something, they are what their powers are. Basically, Zak is still Kur reborn, but was born a dragon who disguises himself as human, Rex is the Omega (His design is based off of my sentient Omega AU), and Ben is the Omnitrix who decide to become a living being, choosing a human body as his main form. I’ll go into a little more detail to explain each AU, and I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions about any of these AUs, don’t be shy to ask. 🧡 💙 💚 -Zur AU- In this world, Doc and Drew never had any biological kids, as Drew found she was unable to bare any. This did distraught the pair, as it had been one of their long life dreams, but they stayed strong and decided to focus on their work for a bit, deciding on future family stuff later. Eventually, they came across the Kur Stone with the rest of the secret scientists, and as the story goes Argost snatched it, and the secret scientists rushed into Weird World to retrieve it, losing many of their teammates in the progress. But things take an interesting turn when taking the stone back to base. You see, as the scientists were discussing what to do, now understanding what the stone really was, they all suddenly heard a faint crack...then another, then a few more, and before anyone knew what was happening, the Kur stone slip, breaking open into four pieces as a tiny, baby, serpent-like dragon crawled out. That’s when they realized that the stone was not a stone, but rather an egg, and putting two and two together, the group assumed that this was Kur’s child. Of course, they freaked out, not wanting something tied to the being said to desire to kill all humans to be wandering around the lab, but their panic caused the little infant dragon to panic too, and a chase sparked, with the little dragon rushing around the labs to hide and keep away from these strange people. The young dragon was confused, as it didn’t understand what was wrong, why these people seemed so scared, though one of these people did catch his eye, the woman with white hair. He had seen her first when hatching, and developed this strange attachment to Drew. She ended up being the one to corner the baby, who came up with a...odd idea somehow. Reaching deep within himself, he found the ability to shapeshift into a human form (Albeit with dragon like features), basing features off of Drew and Doc. This caught the two off guard, especially when seeing bits and pieces of themselves in this child. At first they thought he was trying to trick them, but when they started clinging to Drew, something sparked in the two, this need to protect this young one, who had clearly bonded to them so fast (Drew was quick to scoop them up and be ready to tell the other scientist to a back off). It was a longgggg discussion with the others, many having concerned and worries, but eventually it was agreed that they could not place Kur’s blame onto his offspring, as it was unfair, and since Drew and Doc handle cryptids for a living, it was best that they looked after him. So, they gave him the name Zak, and their little family began. Now, Zak is very well aware of what he is and who he is, and is very grateful for his parents for taking him in, despite what he was. The main plot of the series would most likely be the same, with a few differences, like people like the Nagas and Argost eventually thinking that Zak is Kur’s son too. But then the twist eventually comes in that Zak isn’t Kur’s son, he is Kur himself, just reborn like a phoenix. This leads into Zak’s anxiety crises about who he really is and what he could do, just like in season 2. Zak can also switch between his human form, and real dragon form, though he is able to summon parts of his dragon form, like wings or his tail, if that’s better to use at the moment. He’s quite the magpie too, often collecting ores, gems, jewelry and anything that catches his eye. His loves the outdoors quite a bit, and spends a lot of his time out in the woods or grass fields around his home, connecting with the local wildlife too. He’s also known to straight up hiss and growl, even in his human form. -Omega Rex AU- After the failures of the Alpha project, the crew on the nanite project eventually moved onto the Omega project, which was being lead by not only Caesar, but his parents as well this time. Based on Alpha’s designs, tweaking them quite a bit, they eventually made Omega, a much more friendly and kinder version of Alpha. Omega started off as mostly robotic, being tested on and merely hanging around the labs until needed for something. But like all of Caesar’s project, things started to change, and Omega started to become something more. It was little things at first, Omega asking little questions, curious about the world and people in it. Then Omega started mimicking people, copying human mannerism and even style of speech. People caught on quick, and become a little nervous, given Alpha was kind of the same when he started to change and eventually go rouge. They kept an eye on Omega, making sure nothing went down hill, but instead they went an opposite direction, taking a more wonder filled out look on life, wanting to know a lot about life and what it meant to be living. There were mixed responses to this, some telling Omega that they were just a robot and nothing more, others wanting to see where this would go. Omega seemed to follow three people the most, Caesar, Rylander and Van Kleiss, each peeking his interest in different ways, each one seeing and treating him differently. Caesar often regarded him as one of his great inventions, and was enjoying seeing where Omega was going, and how they were growing, and while there were moments that Caesar treated him a little more human they he would admit, he tried to keep it professional and just say Omega was a tool. Rylander was the kindness to Omega, and would be happy enough to answer their questions and let them understand life a little better, often thinking he saw a spark of a soul in Omega’s eyes from time to time. Van Kleiss was intrigued by Omega, especially when Omega seemed unphased by Van Kleiss’s off putting nature. Like Rylander, he was fine to answer him questions about the world and life, though his negative views on life due to past issues made things a little sad for Omega to hear, even trying to ‘comfort’ the man despite Van Kleiss telling him not too. Then, the nanite event happened. It all happened so fast, but that didn’t matter in the end as Omega awoke with no memories...not even their own name. Left wandering the world now being infested with EVOs, he eventually ran into the Hong Kong Gang one by one, where he started to developed a more teen like personality, and even got the name Rex from them. This made that desire to be something more, something alive, stronger, and that feeling stayed with them even after he left the group, lost his memories again, and got picked up by Six and Providence. At first, they had assumed he was an EVO, but once they realized he was something else, a living nanite it seems, they kept him around in hopes he could help, especially after seeing he could cure EVOs and talk to other nanites. Rex is very curious, and still mimics quite a bit, you often seen him copying gestures from Six and Holiday. Not in a mocking way, but more so like a little kid taking after the adults around him. He’s still learning a lot about being ‘human’ so he does stumble quite a bit, doing things like saying a phrasing wrong, not understanding latest trends, and sometimes forgetting the body limits of a normal human. -Omni-Ben AU- While Azmuth was alone, isolating himself in his work for the Omnitrix, he eventually managed to complete it. However, while he was having it do some test runs and look overs to make sure it was ready, he came to find that the AI may have been a little more advance than he was expecting, for the next thing he new, the Omnitrix shapeshifted into the form of a 13 year old human male. Of course, being highly confused, Azmuth questioned his creation, and the Omnitrix explained that, after looking through the DNA is had, seeing all the different speices in the galaxy and seeing how they live, how they work, they wanted to be like that too, wanted to be alive and real. They had picked a human as their man form as they enjoyed the idea of how humans grow, how individualized they are as a species. Azmuth thought about it, but finally agreed to let the Omnitrix try this out. For the next two years, still living in isolation, Omnitrix and Azmuth started up a simple life living together, Omnitrix even calling him father, which Azmuth was fine with and grew accustomed to. However, Azmuth never let Omnitrix out of the lab/base, for he feared what was out there that could try and use his creation for awful things, and with the Omnitrix alive and sentient, it made that fear worse. But, of course, things couldn’t stay the same forever, as one day Vilgax came knocking and demanded the Omnitrix. Azmuth was quick to tell his creation to flee, despite the Omnitrix’s hesitation. But, unable to deny orders from his father, the Omnitrix fleed as Vilgax followed after, taking Azmuth as his prisoner just in case. Needing somewhere to hide or run too, the Omnitrix thought back to some of Azmuth’s stories, recalling the tale about a human called Max Tennyson, who had once defeated Vilgax, and was well known by the Plumbers. Given the Omnitrix had a human form, and knowing Max’s history with the Plumbers and Vilgax, he decided to find him, making his way to earth and crashing there. He had been following Max’s Plumber signal (Which was in the rust bucket), and ended up being found by Gwen, who took him to Grandpa Max. After explaining his situation, Max agrees to help, and after some debate, Gwen could come too. The three begin to travel across the USA, going to old Plumber bases to collected needed weapons as Vilgax was on their tale, and looking for help in the matter. Needing to blend in with humans, Gwen helped Ben get an outfit that could hide him (Not quite the one up above), and used some make up along with an eye contact to cover up anything he couldn’t remove from himself, and eventually gave him the name Ben. Ben is quite...alien, for lack of a better term. Given he was isolated with Azmuth his entire life, there’s a lot he needs to learn and understand. He is quite smart and quick to pick up on things, but does stumble up in the moment. He’s found that the world outside it quite big, bigger than he realized, and now he’s experience so much, even new emotions he thought he never had, but...he does wanna see more of the world and what it has to offer.

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wolvesandpetals · 3 years ago

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Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

#fanfiction #fanfic #loki #loki disney+#loki x sylvie #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie x loki #pro sylki

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years ago

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Do you know any fics where they all hide the fact they’re werewolves from stiles and stiles is mad that no one told him :)

EHere’s some werewolf reveal!

First Impressions Are Overrated by Leslie_Knope

(1/1 I 14,463 I Teen I Sterek)

In Stiles’ defense, he didn’t deliberately ram his grocery cart into the (evidently precarious) pyramid of oranges.

Growing Up With You by WhereAreTheBreaks

(18/18 I 22,716 I Teen I Sterek)

It all started with a strange scent in the grocery store, and now Derek can't imagine his life without the hyperactive little shit that is Stiles Stilinski. He didn't know why he always felt the need to be close to the boy but his mom's knowing looks certainly weren't helping.

Maybe There’s Blood in This Stone Yet by Batwynn

(6/? I 32,414 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and his dad move into a small town just in time for his junior year in high school. His dad gets the cushy sheriff job, presumably all desk work and less being shot at, and Stiles gets to meet new people.

Like the thing that chaises him through the woods his third day in, or the group of teenagers who call themselves a pack, or Deputy Hale, who has the most amazing eyes Stiles has ever seen, and who also knows weird things about him without even asking. All in all, Beacon Hills is turning out to be anything but boring.

When You're Close I Feel the Sparks by Leslie_Knope

(4/4 I 39,671 I Mature I Sterek)

The guy is hot as hell, sure—leather jacket and glasses, Jesus, be still Stiles' poor, bisexual, beating heart—but more importantly, it must really suck being new on the first day of senior year.

“We’re adopting him,” he decides, tugging Scott and Kira by the elbow in that direction. “Let’s go.”

Suspicious Minds by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)

(1/1 I 40,105 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Don’t feed Balto your pizza,” Stiles mildly warns his daughter.

“Derek.”

Stiles pauses, mouth open and cheese sliding off the pizza as he parrots, “Derek? Who’s Derek?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, like Stiles has just asked her the dumbest question ever. “The wolf, Daddy!”

“You changed his name?” Stiles asks in surprise. Usually she’s pretty set about naming things. Her doll’s name was decided two seconds after receiving it, the car has been Alonzo for three years now, and the toaster ‘Pop’ for the last six months.

Meg nods, prodding the sliding cheese back on top of her slice. “Yeah. He told me his name is Derek. And that he doesn’t really like Balto.”

“Is that right?” he asks, eyeing the wolf who seems far too interested in watching a pair of animated moose arguing. It’s official. This wolf is weird. This whole situation is weird.

--Separated from Laura after being cornered by some hunters, an injured Derek finds himself being rescued by Stiles and his young daughter. In more than one way.

Sleeping through time by thingwithfeathers

(14/? I 65,142 I Teen I Steter)

Peter runs away from home after a falling out with his alpha. She has done something to his mind, and he doesn’t want to stay for her to do more damage. He finds himself in front of a giant tree stump deep into the preserve and thinks it’s a perfect place to rest for the night. Before falling asleep he wishes for something better, for someone who could care about him.

You should be careful what you wish for. Sometimes wishes come true.

Stiles is running through the woods because he can’t sleep. Maybe exercise will work. It feels right. And nothing happens in Beacon Hills.

It feels like he has miscalculated terribly when he hears the first scream. But he runs towards it anyway.

Just the Same by ericaismeg

(7/7 I 68,066 I Explicit I Sterek)

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human.***“I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.”

“Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—”

“Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

One life stand by Vendelin

(6/6 I 84,278 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

(16/16 I 109,578 I Mature I Sterek)

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he's a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica's epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there's this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff... totally the same old BH.

The Moon Lives (In The Lining of Your Skin) by Quixoticity

(28/30 I 130,261 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is doing fine. Okay, so he didn't expect to be a single father to an infant daughter at the tender age of twenty-three, but it's working out great. And no, he didn't expect to be a curator in Beacon Hills Museum, where weird things happen with no explanation, but he's rolling with it. And he seems to have acquired a new brother now that his dad's gotten engaged, which, odd, but hey, Stiles is flexible, and there's no such thing as too much love, right?

But then the next twist comes in the form of mysterious new neighbour Derek Hale, who is both insanely angry at the world (it's possible he's murdered people with his eyebrows alone), and adorably good with children. He's also in possession of a truly excellent butt.

Stiles is doomed.

#teen wolf #sterek #steter #stiles stilinski #derek hale #peter hale #werewolf reveal #anon #Anonymous

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beholdme · 4 years ago

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All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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monstrousaffections1 · 4 years ago

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Love Stinks Chapter 1

It may have been the first time the police had been called to Eastview Highschool. But it was at least the tenth time they’ve had to drag Mildred Chapman down a school corridor. The teen dug her boot heels into the worn tiled floor as she thrashed from side to side, screaming incoherently. The student body had gathered into the hall, watching the scene unfold, some were concerned, but most, in fact, almost all, had taken out their phones to video the event. Saliva ran down her chin as she lifted her legs and gave kick to a locker. The men, although professionals, struggled to keep hold of the violent child. Following them down the hall, came a teacher, followed by a bunch of boys wearing the football team’s colors. “What the hell’s wrong with her?” asked the worried teacher. “She’s fucking mental Miss! Didn’t you see what she did to Jake?” One of the news paper boys lifted his camera as the police hauled her past. His camera flashing as he snapped a picture. Mildred’s eyes widen and she lunged at him with screech of pure fury. He jumped back and tripped he stepped back into a wet floor sign. As the police barely managed to wrestle her to the ground she continued to scream incoherently, murder in her eyes. That is till the sudden but familiar electric feel of a taser zapped through her body. “EEeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!” The students winced. “Oooh..” they chorused. As Mildred slumped, body spasming a little from the jolts. One of the policemen gave a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God…” The teacher covered her mouth in horror. Before turning to the crowd. “Havn’t you all work to be doing!?”

When Mildred came to, her head ached, her body hurt and the lights were too damn bright. Groaning, she covered her eyes, laying in the cell bed. What had happened? She couldn’t quite remember all of it. Mostly she just recalled losing her shit when Jake thought it would be funny to shine a light in her eyes out of nowhere. But that was it. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and moaned, everything hurt. Outside the cell, she could see her parents talking desperately with the Chief of police. Probably trying to pay her bale. Looking in the mirror above the sink in the small room, she took in her state. Dried blood covered her hands, but it was not her own. Ah… so that’s what happened. She sighed and slouched, rubbing her hands over her forehead. Briefly she was able to pick up on bits of the conversation. “Have you taken her to see a doctor…” Then the dialogue became hushed. She rolled her eyes. Yes, she’s been to a doctor. Many times. Nothing they gave her ever did any good. Eventually it seemed her custodians were able to convince the man in charge to let her go. Getting to her feet, Mildred pulled the black hood of her jacket over her head. Staring at the concrete floor, listening as the keys jingled until the door was unlocked. Not waiting till the door was fully opened, she shoved past the chief and strode over to her parents, shoving her hands into her pockets. “So. Home then?” She declared with a smile. And with that, made her way out to the waiting room. Passing the secretary’s desk, the woman pushed a freshly made coffee across the desk for her. “Hey Mildred.” “Hey Mary.” After the fifth time she’s been in hear, Mildred had become friends with the older woman. “Beat up another kid?” “I think so, I can’t quite remember.” “Yeesh, that’s tough.” Mildred laughed a bit. “Hell yeah, I mean, I think I’m probably expelled again, but hey, nothing new.” Mary put a pencil behind her ear as she crossed one knee over the other. “Weren’t you on medication?” “I was.” Mildred confirmed. “But the school nurse found out and made me give it to her.” “Well, that’s stupid.” “Yeah, like, I can administer my own pills you know?” Briefly looking down the hall to make sure her parents were still talking with the chief. She picked up the cup and downed the coffee in one go. Instantly she felt ten times calmer. Sighing, Mildred sat down in a chair by the desk and ran a hand over her head. “Let me guess… He’s asking all the same bloody questions as last time, right?” she muttered, rubbing her nose. Mary sighs, “he’s just worried about you dear.” “Mary. Adults being worried has never given me any good. Only more grief.” It was true. Mildred could list all the times in her childhood that a adult being worried had only made things worse.

Red and blue lights flashed off as a car pulled up outside. Mildred sat up and she and Mary shared ominous looks. There is the sounds of a scuffle, shouting, and noises that couldn’t possibly be from a person. As the doors burst open, about five policemen were wrangling what looked like very large and very angry angler fish. Well… Mildred assumed it was a angler fish. Or… at least an angler fish-man. She wasn’t overly familiar with the terminology of Monsters, but she was sure she’d seen something like in one of the school’s propaganda movies. Creature of the Black Lagoon? Had it been? She wasn’t sure. But what she was sure about, was that this thing could tear apart everyone here if it wanted. She got out of her seat and called into the hallway. “Hey! I think it’s time to skedaddle don’t you guys!?” Her parents and Chief Lewis quickly entered the waiting room. Instantly her father agreed. “Yep. Time to go.” “Back door.” Mildred muttered. Chief Lewis gave her a look. “How do you know about the back door?” “Don’t ask.” The girl headed in that direction, sharing a worried look, her parents followed. It was best to get out before the Slayer’s came. Unless you wanted to witness something gruesome. But hey? Who needs a decapitated monster in their nightmares?

Once at home, Mildred quickly escaped upstairs so she wouldn’t have to deal with a oncoming lecture and suggestion of therapy. Parents, am I right? Locking her door, she collapsed onto her bed, laying on her front as she stared at the clock across from her on the bedside table. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she kicked off her boots, rolling onto her side and curling up onto her side, keeping her arms tucked into her chest. She didn’t want to check her phone yet. There would no doubt be a million texts and missed phone calls from her classmates, and let’s not forget the news. Troubled teenager attacks fellow student. In the end it would be preaching the same old shit. That she was on medication, had severe mental health issues, and couldn’t stand bright flashes of light. The interviews from teachers would describe her as a strange girl who kept to herself and gave obvious singles of trouble at home. This would lead to another visit from the CPS and then the whole cycle would start again. Running a hand through her hair she sat up. Unzipping her black hoody, she threw it over the mirror and began to remove her bra. The damn thing dug into her skin with its infernal fire. But God forbid she have to do sport without one. Pulling out her mph3 player she put the ear buds in her ears, playing a few tunes. It was a bit taboo for humans to listen to monster music, and vice versa, but hey, she lived to rebel. She was already a freak anyhow. Not that she liked monsters of course. She wasn’t an idiot. Not even an infant would trust those fanged and gnarled things. But hey, a good song was a good song. And hey, before you ask, no. It wasn’t racism… speciesism… or whatever it was called. It was actual fear. Monsters killed humans. And hardly anything was ever done about it. Because what could one do? These things had magic powers, they had strength that outweighed that of a humans’. They were so different than humans in every way. And most of the time. Very little empathy for other living things. They were known for their cruelty, for torturing people just for fun. And then being gone before the police even arrived. There was a knock at the door. Mildred sat up, not answering. She wouldn’t give them an opportunity to be let in. “Mildred?” it was her mother. “Darling?” Mildred felt her chest tighten with guilt. She hated having to shut her out. But it was easier this way. “Mildred, the principle called… you’ve been expelled again…”. The teen sighed and laid back down. This had been the last school in their district. No other school would accept her. Too much of a streak record. Ten schools. Ten of them. And each one. She blew it. It didn’t matter how long she lasted there. A month, a week, a year. In the end. Just as things were going well. Shit happened. Always when she was least expecting it. Once it got around that she wasn’t going to be enrolled anywhere anytime soon, there would be calls for her to be placed in a mental hospital. Rather locked up than let to roam the streets. A danger to society. Is what the therapist had labelled her.

She could hear her mother sigh on the other side of the wood. “Look… Mildred… I..” she stuttered. She knew just as well as her daughter did what would happen if she wasn’t enrolled. The teenager waited for the words, what would she say? ‘I’m sorry.’? ‘This is for the best.’? Heh… no. What came out of her mother’s mouth was ten times worse than any form of apologetic hopelessness.

“Mildred… We’re going to enroll you in Spooky High.”

Seven years ago

Mildred sat back stage with the other girls, furiously scratching her pink leotards. They were itchy, itchy, itchy! The music blared loudly as the older girls came to the climax of their performance. Swan Lake. Soon their turn would be up, Sugar Plum Fairy. Mildred scratched her hair, making a muck of her neat ballerina bun.

The little girls giggled and whispered in hushed but excited voices; this was one of their first recitals that wasn’t for babies. There was a round of enthusiastic applause and flashing of cameras, Mildred whined and covered her face. The noise felt like ice picks being driven into her brain, she pulled her knees to her chest and started to rock a little. “Miss Lemming! Mildred’s being annoying!” Little blonde Sarah had announced with a snooty voice. The middle-aged woman quickly snapped. “Mildred stop rocking.” It seemed to be a learned trait of ballet teachers to be strict and mean. Mildred’s parents would often joke that they could hear their daughter’s name being yelled quite often from the parents’ lounge. Though Mildred didn’t find it very funny. The little girl fixed Sarah with a glare as she tucked her black hair behind her ears. As the sixteen-year-old Swans trotted like primmed poodles off of stage, the teacher gestured for the little fairies to get up. “Ok, girls, just like we rehearsed, straight line.” The youngsters got in place and trotted out onto stage. A chorus of coos came from the audience. Mildred held arms with the other girls as they were meant to. The music erupted loudly from under the stage, it was much louder hear. Upon the same moment, an array of camera flashes burst from the darkened audience. Mildred shrieked as for a moment she was blind, her head racking with ruckus. Then, blank. All rational thought left her body and she lunged for Sarah, tackling the other girl down onto the stage and started to tear at her hair and face. Sarah screamed and started to hit back, grabbing Mildred’s earing and pulling. Mildred shrieked and landed a hard punch into the other child’s nose. The other girls screamed and some ran off stage, the camera’s kept flashing and the music kept playing, boys in the audience started laughing and cheering as their parents tried to hush them. Miss Lemming ran onto the stage and Mildred’s parents rushed along the row of seats. The two girls screamed and grappled, neither wanting to let up as the adults wrestled to get them apart. After about ten whole seconds, were they separated and carried kicking and screaming off the stage.

Mildred sat on the hospital bed, a bandage around her ear. In the room next to her, Sarah had cast on her nose. Outside her parents were restlessly talking with a woman in a suite. The child stared silently. She didn’t like the look of this woman. Eventually, her mother entered the room and sat on her bed. “Mildred. There is a lady here to see you.” The young one tilted her head. “Why’s that mummy?” “They just want to have a chat, ok darling?” Mildred blinked with curiousness. “…ok.” She crossed her legs and hugged the pillow to her chest as the suite woman entered the room. “Hello Mildred,” She was friendly, but the she could tell something was off. She didn’t quite know what it was, just… something. Later, after a few years, Mildred would finally find the right words to describe exactly what this lady was. Poisoned Honey. “Hello…” the little girl greeted, feeling queasy in the gut. “I’m from child protection services, would you mind if we had a little talk?” “….am I in trouble?” “No, no dear. Not at all.” Heh, yeah right. After a little while, the woman had been able to worm out of the child all the dirty little secrets.

It ended as one might suspect, with a mandatory evaluation from a therapist, and a three-day institutionalization until they could come up with a proper diagnosis. In the end, they had been unable to find out what was wrong. Or rather, not in one specific category. The doctors said she was autistic, the nurses suggested she was going through zombification, the therapists pondered if she was schizophrenic. Upon finding no clear classification, they had just scratched their head, put her on anti-psychotics and had sent her home. Everything went back to normal after that. For a while that is.

But in the end, not for very long at all.

Present Day

It was Wednesday morning. Mildred sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car. She clenched her fists, gripping the bottom of her black hoody tightly. As they entered the school zone the car slowed. Mildred briefly brushed her hair to hang over her face from under her hood. She just knew this was going to end so badly. “Mum, if you wanted me dead. You could have just hired a hitman.” Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes. “Mildred… please promise me you’ll try and make a good impression.” “Why? It’s just a meeting today… not like I’m probably gonna be accepted here…” “Well… you never know.” The sixteen-year-old avoided her mother’s disappointed gaze and stared ahead. Her chest tightened with self-loathing. “Isn’t the principle a spider or something?” Her mother tried to chuckle. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.” They turned into the parking lot. Two individuals stood by the changeable copy board. She tilted her neck a bit to try and read the message. ‘Copiers can sense fear. Stay calm and speak to the machine in low soothing tones.’ …. What… Mildred’s mother lowered the window. “Excuse me, can you tell us where to find the administration’s office?” as the fellow teens turn to face the car, well… lets just say that it looked like they were the ones who had seen a ghost. Which was saying something as… well, one of them was a ghost. Mildred tensed and wanted to facepalm in embarrassment. There was nothing worse than standing out. Let alone drawing attention to oneself. The ghost smiled brightly. “Oh Sure!! Uuhh Just over there I think hehehe I’m drunk.” The monster beside her… a.. uh… Mildred wasn’t sure what it was, but it was purple and had a green eye in it’s chest with a head full of tentacles. Anyway, the monster besides the ghost nodded it’s head vigorously in agreement. “Yeah! That way!” and pointed with a tentacle arm. “Ok.. thaaanks..” Mildred nodded and as the car moved forward, she fixed her mother with a expression that can only be summed up as, Are you Serious? Parking under the shade of a tree, they got out and started to walk along the footpath towards the screen doors ahead of them. Surprisingly, the place was well furnished, it looked just like a completely normal school. Sunlight shining in the windows, the football club’s slogan painted on the floor. Student art projects up on the left wall, and a trophy cabinet on the other side. “Doesn’t look.. that bad.” Her mother commented and smiled. Mildred snorts. “I highly doubt.” Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she looked up at the sign on the wall. “Heh, no necromancy permitted on campus, charming.” Mrs Chapman sighed. “Come on, I think the administration is this way.” And follows the sign that points to the main office. Rolling her eyes, the teenager follows, putting her ear buds in to play some music.

After asking directions from what seemed to be a deranged bear janitor, they finally found the main office. Mildred crosses her arms over her chest and frowned as her mother spoke to the harpy sitting at the front desk. Briefly looking around, the human walked over to a few staff pictures on the wall, she gnawed her lip as she took in the concoction of monstrosities. Although they were only head shots and not much to go off, they still gave a good view of the oddities of this place. “Mildred?” Her mother whispered and gestured to a seat in the waiting room. With a roll of her eyes, she sauntered over and slumped down into the chair, resting her ankle on her knee with disinterest. Nodding her head to the beat thrumming in her head, she almost didn’t hear the principle’s office door open until Mrs Chapman shook her arm when she didn’t respond to her name. “Mildred.” She snaps softly. “huh?” The teen jerks out of her trance and quickly presses pause, removing the buds from her ears. “What?” Her mother looks like she wants to slap her. “Mildred. This is Principal Webber.” Wrinkling her nose, the girl looked up, and up, and up, at the very large, very giant, bipedal arachnid. “Whoa!!” she exclaimed with surprise. “Heh, The brochure wasn’t kidding when they called you a giant spider!” Mrs Chapman facepalms. The large arachnid chuckles in that way they always do when it comes to children. Happy but condescending. The entire meeting was pretty straight forward. Her mother did most of the talking, telling the spider their situation, and sugar coating her condition. Mildred had put her ear plugs back in not even half way through, closing her eyes and nodding her head. When she opened her eyes again, she caught her mother’s relieved expression. So, it was safe to say she was accepted.

After enduring an detestable and lengthy lecture about her rudeness and making false promises to write a letter of apology to the principle, Mildred had successfully blocked out her mother’s nagging. Once home she had excused herself to her room to go on her computer, Tibbles joining her by laying on the desk. Locking her door behind her she looked over her room. It was common that her things were gone through when she wasn’t home. Ever since the accident with the sharpened toothbrush. Her room was painted a dark purple, a fluffy pink carpet on the floor and a black bed against the wall. Most kids liked their beds against windows. But not Mildred. If someone ever tried to break in, well, the last thing she wanted was to be fell upon the moment they entered the window. Lowering her hood she went to her desk and turned on her laptop, turning up the volume on her mph3 player she typed in Spooky High. …. Huh…. There has been a lot of fires apparently. And a large number of student-on-student murders… Apparently the campus has had to be rebuilt 15 times due to catastrophic catastrophises. Mildred dead panned and gave her cat an unimpressed look. “Make sure to say something nice at my funeral.” The grey tabby meowed and laid on the keyboard. She giggled and gave him a kiss on the head. Pulling the scrunched-up application form from her pocket, she uncreased it as much as she could and read over the basic questions. It was straight forward, first name, last name, second name. Age, what grade. That kind of thing. She ticked the female box, but then paused. The next question was inquiring as to her species. Mildred bit her lip, pondering this. On one hand, she could write human. It would probably be obvious she was human, however… well… it wouldn’t really matter, just a bit of fun before her demise. She wrote Unspecified onto the dotted line and snorted with a bit of humour. Yeah, she was definitely going to die. Looking at Tibbles she scratched his chin. “See you he-… well, maybe not. I’m for sure going to hell, but your damn well going to heaven even if I have to sneak you in their Mission Impossible style.”

As the end of lunch bell rang, Vera leant forward, applying a darker shade of green lipstick to herself in the bathroom mirror. Her snakes hissed and slithered around her shoulders, whispering to each other. Miranda brushed her candy floss coloured hair and babbled on about the latest cover-shoot she’s been asked to partake in. “And then I had my Serfs do the photoshop for me,” she giggled, fixing the crown upon her head. Vera rolled her eyes and ignores the other aside from a few comments as she applied some eyeliner, using her dagger as a ruler. “Were they pretty at least?” “Oh yes, Daisy is quite pretty for a commoner.” Putting her blade back into her handbag, the gorgon is adjusting her jacket when her hair’s whispers harshens and agitated hisses become slightly audible. “Sssshe’sss coming, ssshe’sss coming!” Polly flies through the wall and waves excitedly with a huge smile. “Heey Boo!” Miranda’s smile widened into one of sharp teeth as her bright blue eyes lit up with joy. “Pollyy!” The poltergeist giggled and gave her friends a wink, pushing her sunglasses up onto her forehead. “You’ll neeever guess what me and Zoe saww today!” Vere hisses lightly with an amused roll of her red eyes. “Let me guess, a cute boy?” The ghost gives her a slightly annoyed expression, “Ugh, nnoo.” She pouts as her smile comes back. “A human is enrolling!” She exclaimed. Miranda’s eyes bulge as she mucks up her lipstick in surprise. Vera blinks, her snakes going quiet. “Oh?” The mermaid princess giggled a little as she wiped off a smudge of makeup, “Oh Polly, are you sure that’s what you saw?” She asks with a slightly condescending tone. It was well known that the poltergeist was often drunk, stoned, or otherwise drugged up. The ghost hmphed and folded her arms. “Lets make a bet.” Vera chuckles mirthfully, “I’m listening.” Polly’s eyes glinted excitedly. “If there’s no human, then… uuh..” she tries to think of something. Miranda clasps her hands. “Then you got to go sober for three weeks!” The Spector seems caught off guard by this term, but then decides, it’s worth the risk. “Deal! And if there Is a human. Then you guys gotta flirt with… Leonard!” She exclaims and both ghouls shudder. “Fine.” “Deal.” They reluctantly agree. “This so-called human has till Monday to appear.”

Pulling on her boots she did up the laces before lowering her trousers over the leather. It was Monday, the beginning of what was left of Mildred’s life. So not long. Adjusting shirt, she started to brush her hair. It was choppy and all over the place. And with it’s dark look, quite often got her mistaken for a goth. Heh, she may wear all black. But this kid, nah, she didn’t regard herself as a goth. She was a Rocker. And proud of it. Brushing cat fur off her top, she tucked it into her trousers for warmth, she’d chosen a white one with a silver crown printed on the front. Grabbing her hoodie, she slipped it on and zipped it up, pulling her hood up before grabbing her fingerless gloves. Tibbles meows and rubs against her legs. Smiling she reaches down and pats his head. “See you later baby, hopefully.” She kisses the cat’s head and grabs her backpack; it’s decorated with keychains. Heading down stairs she grabs a plate of toast her mother left out for her. She was nearly late, and although she didn’t truly care, she didn’t fancy walking all the way to school, plus, it seemed to be universal rule, that all schools phoned up your parents if you were absent. Always. With that in mind she shut the door and burst into a run down the footpath, heading for the bus stop. The clouds this particular day were cloudy and overcast. It would rain tonight. As she rounded the corner, she saw the school bus coming up the street. Eyes widening, she slowed and walked casually to the bus stop. Pulling her hoodie further down over her face she quickly got out her bus fare. As the vehicle slowed to a stop, she risked a glance up at the windows, many monstrosities howled and growled inside, carrying on like it was feeding time at a zoo. She gulped as the bus doors hissed open. Taking a hesitant step up she climbed aboard and gave the gargoyle driver her fare. She couldn’t quite place the expression on the stone configuration, though she was pretty sure it was pity. Or hunger, or something of the two. Moving down the row of the bus, she kept her head low and looked for an available seat. Moving down the row of the bus, she kept her head low and looked for an available seat. Slipping in beside a purple bat eared boy wearing a bowtie she hunched forward, it seems that no one had noticed she was human yet, as long as she kept covering her face. There was a slight scoff from beside her. “Please, the brooding emo trope is a bit cliché isn’t it?”

Clenching her fists as she felt anger coil around her chest, tightening into a knot. She looked up, giving the vampire a fierce look. His skin was a light shade of purple, one side of his head was shaved, the rest of his hair tied up in a man-bun. Though he downgraded from his cool hairstyle as he dressed in what can only be described as 50s fashion. She wrinkled her nose and grinned almost evilly. Cliché huh? Well, she’d show him. As the hipster’s yellow eyes widened and his ears flicked forward in surprised interest, she felt a smug happiness brighten her day. “Unconventional enough for you?” she asked with false sweetness. With that, she takes her ear plugs and puts them in, playing her best playlist. Liam swallowed thickly. Pushing his glasses back up his nose he stared at the human for what seemed like ages, for once in his eternal life, the vampire was blown away. Sure, he’d interacted with humans before, both in history and for feeding purposes. But truly, no humans aside from Slayers and Witches went to Monster Highschools. And this particular whelp, was neither of them. With a moment of panic, he whipped out his phone and started furiously texting. Although he would detest his reaction later, at this current moment, he was shook. Mildred kept her eyes closed as she let herself rest, mimicking sleep. It felt almost as good as the real thing. Slumbering was one of the only things that brought her a sense of peace outside of music. Yet even music couldn’t quell the hypervigilance completely. Coming back to reality she then remembered a very important detail. She forgot to take her tablets. “Ah shit…” she mumbled and inwardly facepalms. She settles for staring at her lap and tapping her foot in tune to the tunes in her ears. She already had her plan stacked in her head. Go to office, get timetable, sit at the back of class in the corner, which was the safest place to be at all times, she’d learnt this the hard way on the first day of human high school. So, she assumed monster schools were no different. At lunch she would eat in the corner, once again, the ignorable area. The day would be a breeze, in, out, as long as she kept her hood up and head down, no one would know she was human. Except for the vampire guy… but he'd know to keep his mouth shut… right?

#monster prom #liam de lioncourt #vera oberlin #miranda vanderbilt #polly geist

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vespertineflora · 4 years ago

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Title: a light on the other side

Rating: Mature Summary: As a child, Meng Yao had only ever met his father in passing, as he had a family of his own and wanted little to do with the child that resulted from his affair with Meng Yao's mother. But when Meng Shi passed away tragically, 13 year old Meng Yao was sent to live with his father, spending the rest of his teen years in a living hell until he was able to escape... A few years later, another affair and another tragedy brought infant Mo Xuanyu into the Jin household and Meng Yao returned to keep him safe from the fate he'd suffered himself. Life there is awful, though not nearly as bad as it was before, as Meng Yao spends most of his time alone caring for Mo Xuanyu. However, a few months into his return, Meng Yao is presented with a unique opportunity when, late one night, he finds Jin Guangshan collapsed on the floor of his office. (2.6k, abuse/past abuse, jgs dies)

haha, this is more 3zun discord inspiration! this is a take on this message from theduality: The truth is that JGS probably would have lived if JGY had called 911 as soon as he walked into the library and found his father having a heart attack on the floor, but instead he just waited until he was sure JGS was dead.

It's set in a modern 3zun AU where Meng Yao eventually meets LXC and NMJ at a single dads support group (though they're all technically just the legal guardians of their MUCH younger brothers).

~~~

Meng Yao had spent nearly an hour trying to fall asleep before he gave up. After an incident that involved his father shoving him into a wall earlier that evening, the steady thrum of pain in his shoulder had been too persistent to allow him to doze off, so he'd been reading when the sound of something crashing down the hall made him jump.

Immediately, he jolted upright out of his bed; his heart was in his throat as he practically flew through the door of the small guest bedroom—he didn’t know where the sound came from, but his first fear was for Mo Xuanyu, for his tiny, helpless baby half-brother alone in his room, but as he pushed through the door into the dark bedroom and ran to the side of his brother’s crib...

The tiny infant was sleeping soundly, unharmed and undisturbed by any potentially falling thing, and Meng Yao spent a moment watching his chest rise and fall peacefully, letting relief wash over him, letting the even, soothing pace of it soothe him in turn. Mo Xuanyu was the only reason that Meng Yao had returned to this hellhole after all, the only motivation strong enough to make him brave this place again. Another bastard, just like Meng Yao, another product of his father’s adultery, only stuck here because of his mother’s death. Mo Xuanyu had been born four weeks premature, rescued from his mother’s womb after an awful accident took his mother’s life, and he’d spent the first few weeks of his life in the hospital before he’d been healthy enough to come home, and even now, months later, he still seemed impossibly small.

The crashing sound was troubling, needed to be investigated, but... Jin Zixuan was away at college, making Mo Xuanyu the only person in the house Meng Yao actually cared about. Checking on him had to come first.

Once he was satisfied and a little more settled, Meng Yao crept out of the room, closing the door securely behind him, and started down the hall. Jin Guangshan was the only other person home tonight, and the crashing sound could have just as easily come from the direction of his office, so Meng Yao headed that way next, moving quietly down the hall and peeking around the corner of the open office doors...

Continue Reading on AO3 or below the cut

He froze as his eyes fell upon the sight inside, his lungs forgetting how to breathe for a moment, the thump of his heart in his chest the only thing he could process beyond the scene inside the room.

Jin Guangshan was laying on the floor. The high backed chair that sat behind his desk had tipped over and the phone that usually sat on his desk had fallen to the floor as well, sitting off the hook, the dial tone just barely audible from the doorway. Jin Guangshan was... stretched out, reaching for the office phone that was more than a foot beyond his grasp while his other arm was clutched to his chest and his face was contorted into a pained expression.

All in all, it painted a very clear picture.

After a life of excess, of smoking and drugs and sex and too rich foods, Jin Guangshan had been on medication for his cholesterol and high blood pressure for years. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Meng Yao had stumbled upon.

“Hey!”

Meng Yao nearly jumped at the sharp bark of Jin Guangshan’s voice—he hadn’t expected to be seen, but since he had been, he knew there was no longer a reason to hide and he slipped more fully into the doorway, eyes still glued on his father’s struggling form. He had obviously been trying to drag himself along the carpet to reach the phone; he had even more obviously been failing.

“Don’t just stand there!” he snapped. His face was flushed, his voice tight and strained. Meng Yao didn’t know much about heart attacks, but he had been told they were agonizing. Jin Guangshan certain looked like he was in agony.

Good, a tiny, vindictive voice in the back of his head spit.

Meng Yao didn’t move and Jin Guangshan’s voice turned into a furious growl. “You useless —call an ambulance! I’m having-” he had to pause to suck in a desperate, rasping breath, “-a heart attack!”

“A serious one, it seems,” Meng Yao replied, his voice hollow and cold even to his own ears. His thoughts were already spinning, rearranging around what was happening in front of him, around the opportunity that had suddenly presented itself to him.

He... didn’t have to do anything, he realized. He’d dreamed, sickeningly, of so many awful ways Jin Guangshan might die, and of all the ways he might personally end Jin Guangshan’s life. Despite knowing he’d never actually go through with it, he had fantasized about doing something for years , but... it seemed like all his dreams were about to come true and all he had to do was exactly nothing.

Some mixture of rage and horror flashed through Jin Guangshan’s eyes; they darted back to the phone, and his body flailed weakly on the floor as if trying to push himself closer to it. He barely gained even an inch of ground, and for all the likelihood that his failing heart would allow him to reach the phone, it might as well have been miles away.

He looked back towards Meng Yao, looking more desperate than before as the sudden shift in their dynamic had clearly registered.

“Son,” Jin Guangshan rasped and Meng Yao flinched. Jin Guangshan has spent years avoiding calling him that and while there had been a time in Meng Yao’s life when he would have given anything to hear it... that time had passed ages ago, before Meng Yao had suffered through years of abuse, through slaps to the face and strikes from any weapon Jin Guangshan had on hand leaving bruises Meng Yao was forced to hide behind false clumsiness, through cigarette burns that had left lasting marks on Meng Yao’s skin, to insults and a constant stream of degradation that Meng Yao had endured through most of his teen years...

“Son, please ,” Jin Guangshan continued, almost begging now, sounding pathetic, “I’m dying, can’t you see I’m dying? Be a good boy and call for an ambulance.”

Finally managing to take a slow breath, Meng Yao crossed the room towards Jin Guangshan. He felt... strangely calm, almost eerily so, as he knelt down on the floor directly in front of him. “Father,” he said, his voice low and even, “I’m going to show you just as much compassion as you’ve shown me.”

Jin Guangshan heaved a sigh of relief as he watched Meng Yao’s hand slowly reaching over for the phone. “Thank you, oh, thank you, son,” he professed between his gasping breaths, clearly struggling for both air and for words as the blood flow to his heart weakened the muscle, weakened its ability to get blood pumping to his brain, “you won’t regret this, I promise you won’t, you’ll see, son, you’ll...”

His words stopped as Meng Yao’s hand hovered over the receiver, fingers floating just out of contact, lingering like that for several long seconds until Jin Guangshan stopped spewing his saccharine platitudes.

And then, just as calmly as before, Meng Yao drew his arm back and sat fully upright, letting his hands settle in his lap.

Like a switch flipping, Jin Guangshan’s mood shifted immediately back to rage, his face flushing a deep red, his eyes widening with accusation. “Y-you!” he spluttered out, so infuriated that he couldn’t help but stumble as he fought for his words. “You piece of shit! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you think you can just let me die here?”

Meng Yao was almost surprised at himself, at... the tiny curl at the corner of his lips, at the way his heart was starting to race, not with fear, but with excitement. This was the first time Jin Guangshan yelling at him had made him feel anything but terror and rage and he almost couldn’t believe that it wasn’t just fear making his adrenaline go haywire.

He locked eyes with his father as a rush of boldness swelled in his chest and he replied, “I do, actually.”

The words left Jin Guangshan seething and out of muscle memory, his arms swiped for Meng Yao, looking to grab him, shake him, throw him to the ground as he’d done countless times before—but Meng Yao had sat down just beyond his father’s reach, and Meng Yao’s grin only widened manically at his father’s failed final attempts to hurt him.

“Fucking BASTARD!” Jin Guangshan nearly hollered, before his hand was clutching to his chest again, the stress of his rage surely only making his condition worse. “You no good, useless waste of human flesh! You... You’re mother was a disgusting slut and you’re no fucking better! I would have been—better... better off if your sperm had would up in a fucking trash can, you—”

It was nothing that Meng Yao hadn’t heard before, nothing new— but what was new was that Meng Yao wasn’t trembling in terror, wasn’t recoiling as he tried to protect his face from the worst of the blows coming his way. He wasn’t avoiding being pummeled by his father, wasn’t dodging something heavy that had been pitched in his direction, wasn’t worried about how he might have to hide tomorrow’s welt or bruises from teachers or peers. Jin Guangshan spat and hissed and twitched on the floor, his vitriol spewing out of him with force as he babbled on... but as his words and insults grew more strained with his gasping breaths (his brain and body needed oxygen, his lungs were sucking desperately for it, but no amount of breathing would save the organ failing in his chest)... Meng Yao only sat quietly with that faint smile lingering on his lips.

“You won’t,” Jin Guangshan continued on haltingly, the fatigue and oxygen deprivation catching up to him, “you won’t get - get away with this, you... little fucker. When I pull through, I... I’ll fuck—fucking kill you, I’ll... you wish you were never fucking born when.... when I’m done with... with you...”

And then, Jin Guangshan fell limp against the floor.

Meng Yao didn’t move, not yet. His eyes were trained on Jin Guangshan’s body, watching the rise and fall of his chest, knowing he was passed out, but not gone, not quite yet, and at this point, Meng Yao couldn’t afford to let this go right. He couldn’t risk paramedics managing to revive Jin Guangshan, at least not with enough brain function to remember this happening or to do anything about it, because for as many times as he’d wished he hadn’t been born, he had no doubt that Jin Guangshan could manage to make his life even more miserable. With his power, his resources, he could have Meng Yao permanently maimed or disfigured, he could have him killed and probably manage to cover it up—he could toss him out and make sure he never saw Mo Xuanyu again, and in some ways that was almost a worse fate. If he wasn’t here, he wasn’t sure if the boy would make it, as fragile and small as he was and as little as the Jins cared about him.

But eventually, Jin Guangshan’s breathing had stopped as well, and Meng Yao waited just another moment before he leaned forward to press his finger to Jin Guangshan’s carotid artery to feel for a pulse... only to find nothing.

He took a breath, trembling just a little, before picking up the receiver of the phone on the floor and calling emergency services.

As he told the operator his address and that he’d walked in to find his father collapsed on the floor, his voice was shaking slightly, in a way that he hoped sounded like panic—though he was well aware it was only an excitement muted by the lingering feeling of shock.

Ten minutes later, he was opening the front door for the paramedics, ushering them upstairs to his father’s office. The commotion of loud footsteps in the hallway was quick to wake Mo Xuanyu in his crib, which meant that, as soon as the paramedics had been directed to Jin Guangshan’s body, Meng Yao had an excuse to slip away and tend to the crying child in the nursery.

He lifted Mo Xuanyu up into his arms, cradling the tiny boy against his chest in a way that had become quite natural to him over the last couple of months as he hushed him gently, swaying him slowly as he paced the room, his thoughts spinning at what he’d done, at watching Jin Guangshan die, and hoping against hope that he was beyond saving, that he was finally actually free of him once and for all...

Nearly an hour had passed and Mo Xuanyu had fallen asleep in his arms when one of the paramedics came to find him and give him the news: they’d done everything they could, but Jin Guangshan was dead.

Hearing the news from someone else was what it took to make it finally sink in, and Meng Yao felt tears in his eyes, his arms holding Mo Xuanyu a bit closer. He nodded as he tried to keep breathing regularly, thanked them for their time and took the information they handed him, and soon after, they were carrying the body from the home as they left.

It was only after the door was closed and locked behind them that the tears spilled over, that the slight tremor that had been quaking through him since he’d found Jin Guangshan on the floor of the office became far more violent. He quickly sunk down into the nearest armchair to keep himself from collapsing, keeping his arms safely and securely around Mo Xuanyu as the tears streamed down his cheeks, pressing his cheek gently against the wispy swirl of hair on top of his head.

Meng Yao had never been so relieved.

It was over. Jin Guangshan was dead, he’d never hurt Meng Yao again, he’d never have a chance to hurt Mo Xuanyu, it was all fucking over, and the tears on Meng Yao’s face had nothing to do with grief.

Madam Jin would need to be notified about what happened sooner rather than later; Meng Yao would text Jin Zixuan in a bit just to tell him that he needed to come home so he could receive the news in person. The next few weeks were bound to be a disaster and Meng Yao didn’t look forward to pretending to be upset about the death of a man he despised, and he didn’t know what Madam Jin would choose to do with the bastard children she’d never wanted under her roof to begin with.

But as he remembered the day Jin Guangshan had held him down, pumped dish soap into his mouth before sealing it shut with duct tape... or the night Jin Guangshan had smashed into his room, grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the top of the stairs only to fling him down the staircase, followed by the long nights he’d spent alone in the hospital, concussed and nauseous and in agony from a shattered arm and leg...

His shoulder still ached, but Meng Yao didn't even mind it anymore. It would be the last bruise his father ever gave him.

This was a victory and he would take the time to revel in it. Whatever challenges that lied ahead would pale in comparison to the ones he’d already managed to survive.

#jin guangyao #meng yao #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #mdzs fic #cql #vesper posts #wrote a thing

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magnolia-penn · 5 years ago

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A Helping Hand

Noriaki Kakyoin x Reader

A totally late self comfort fic that I wrote to help cope with terrible parents

WARNINGS: Just some Part 3 spoilers. Nothing that you wouldn't know after watching the fist few episodes. Other than that, there's none. Just self indulgent fluff.

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Dealing with Jotaro Kujo isn’t the easiest of tasks for anybody unless you’re his mother. He’s cold, abrasive, and a bit of dick. He detests people who can’t take care of themselves and hates covering anyone’s ass.

Not a good situation for you.

You had only developed your stand, Magenta Sunset, ten days ago. A week before your meeting with the StarDust Crusaders. It happened during a business trip to Cairo that you attended with your father.

The night it manifested, you were approached by a man named DIO. He used sweet words and promises to help you better understand this strange new power you had received, as long as you helped him when he needed it.

You naively agreed.

He took your hand and whisked you across Cairo’s rooftops to his mansion, the wind and his deep voice almost drowning out the screams of your father.

True to his word, he taught you about Stands and how to control yours, by inserting a flesh bud into your forehead and giving you your orders to eliminate the Joestars.

You encountered the Crusaders in a small desert town, and you launched your attack. The battle only lasted about fifteen minutes, and you shouted your apologies the entire time.

After being apprehended by purple and green tendrils, it was the redhead’s idea to have you join them, stating that your circumstances were no different from him. The old man agreed and ordered the teen dressed in all black to remove the flesh bud, and you were put under the care of the redhead, now known as Noriaki Kakyoin.

It soon became glaringly apparent that without the flesh bud dictating your movement, you were at an infant level with your stand. After some deliberation, the old man, Joseph Joestar, and the Egyptian, Muhammud Avdol, chalked it up to inexperience. Everyone had theirs for quite possibly years, while you only had yours for a mere couple of days.

With introductions and backstories out of the way, it was time to get back on the road. You took every opportunity to practice with your stand, and everyone agreed to help, except Jotaro, which was to be expected.

Kakyoin was your sparring partner more often than not. Under his guidance, you improved significantly, but you still faltered in defense. You always struggled to keep an eye on your surroundings and were slow to block.

The others would offer words of encouragement, but Jotaro would only scoff and throw an insult. His words hurt because you knew he was right. He was the strongest member of your team, and the team is only as strong as the weakest link. AKA, You. You started pushing yourself too far beyond your limits, to the point of exhaustion, and it was beginning to show. Your performance would drop, and Jotaro would degrade you more.

Kakyoin was always quick to rub salve on the wound, though. Every word he spoke lifted your spirits and inspired you to keep pushing. This might sound cliche to say, but you thought you might be falling for him.

Sadly, good things never last, and it all came crashing down after an actual battle. In a last-ditch effort, some C rated thug, who probably wasn’t even one of DIO's minions, launched a full-powered attack straight at you. Even the almighty Jotaro wasn’t prepared for it, and he just barely managed to pull you out of the way by the back of your shirt. He let you fall to the ground and quickly finished the thug off. He turned back to you and glared while looking you up and down. After a few tense seconds, he turned and walked away. He didn’t say anything. Not even a “Yare yare daze.”

That hurt worse than anything he could possibly say.

The other members of the group quickly came to your aid, gently pulling you to your feet and checking for injuries. You brushed them off with a smile and a wave. Kakyoin lingered longer than the rest, eyes filled with fear and pure relief at your safety. He embraced you in a giant hug, and you quickly returned it. Kakyoin pretended not to notice the way your body quaked in fear and how you clung to him like your life depended on it.

He knew Jotaro was harsh, but he didn’t expect it to affect you so severely. He worked with you every day, and none of his criticism ever got under your skin. But after seeing the sheer despair in your eyes after Jotaro turned his back to you solidified his belief that you cared about how Jotaro saw you.

His mind was telling him that it was only logical that you wanted Jotaro’s approval. He was the strongest of the group, and Jotaro’s harshness was a way of showing he cared. Still, Kakyoin’s heart overrode the system, and he couldn’t help but get angered at Jotaro’s lack of sympathy for you.

Later, out of the prying eyes of anybody else, he talked to Jotaro. It took some will power to keep his voice even as he tried to explain your side of things. Eventually, Jotaro acquiesced, promising to apologize to you.

That night, after everyone fell asleep, you snuck out over a sand dune to get some practice in. Every kick, every punch, every block seemed slow and sluggish as all of your pent up emotions chiseled away at the wall you put up. Letting out a frustrated groan, you dropped to your knees and cradled your head in your hands.

Large tears threatened to spill as you tried to suppress a sniffle. You knew it was useless to cry, but that didn’t stop the tears from falling

You were so wrapped up in your own emotions that you didn’t hear someone come up from behind and sit beside you.

“Messed up that badly today, huh?”

You jumped and quickly manifested your stand, ready to attack. Before you could, Emerald coils wrapped around your arms and pinned them to your sides.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. It’s just me.”

It was Kakyoin. Honestly, as much as you cared for him, he was the last person you wanted to see. He put too much time and effort into your training to see you on your knees, sobbing like a baby.

“It is just you. What do you want?” You managed to push Hierophant's coils off and sat up, pulling your legs to your chest.

“A reason to why you’re in the desert trying not to cry? A moment of your time? Penny for your thoughts?”

You let out a half-hearted scoff and played with the hem of your shirt.

Kakyoin chuckled. “A nickel?” No reaction. “A dime?”

Your face broke out into a smile against your will. “How about a quarter?”

Kakyoin rooted around in his pocket for a bit. “Aha! One quarter. You’re thoughts, M’Lady?”

You took the quarter and sighed, setting it between you as a time filler as you figured out what to say. You always admired Kakyoin. His stand is well-rounded, and he was so strong. He never walked out into the desert to lose control of his emotions. You knew it would be hard to explain everything you felt in a way he would understand.

“I’m weak.” You finally say after a long pause.

Kakyoin blinked in surprise. “You’re not weak.”

“Yes! I am! I can’t block attacks, and I’m painfully unaware of what’s happening around me! Anybody and their mother could sneak up on me! You did! I have to rely on everybody else to protect me, and there’s nothing I can do to get better!”

You threw your arms around Kakyoin and buried your face into his chest to hide your shame. He sputtered on air, and he prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart sped up.

He wrapped his arms around you and said, “That still doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

“How so?” You asked teary-eyed.

“Y/N. You are one of the strongest offense fighters on our team. Magenta Sunset might have lower defense, but you really make up for it in offense and improvisation. The others only wish they could come up with crazy ideas that just might work on the fly like you.”

Your ears twinged pink at his kind words. “Even you?”

“Especially me.” Kakyoin moved his hands to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. “ Look, you’d never be able to guess it, but Hierophant is actually kind of terrible at offense. Sure it has the Emerald Splash, but it works better out of the spotlight. And every time I see you and Sunset spring into the thrall without a moment’s hesitation, I get so jealous because I could never just jump in guns blazing. Hierophant works better in enclosed spaces, but Sunset works great just about anywhere.”

Kakyoin suddenly caught himself.

“Sorry. I was rambling again. But you get the idea, you are so amazing and so far from weak. I know I’ve only known you for a couple of days, but I really like you, Y/N.” He accidentally confessed.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the redhead’s words. You never imagined that anybody thought of you like that, not even Polnareff. When you didn’t respond, Kakyoin’s face lit up in a fiery scarlet.

“I.. I mean-I mean! I look up t-”

“I have an idea.” Your words cut off any excuses in his throat. “It’s crazy, but it just might work.”

“Yeah?”

“Hierophant sucks at offense,” You said as you pulled yourself off of Kakyoin.

“You don’t have to put it so bluntly.”

“Sunset sucks at defense.” You twirled a lock of hair while deep in concentration.

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.” Kakyoin gently pulled his curl from your fingers.

“We both like each other, and we will spend a lot of time together now, since you confessed,” You took his hand in yours.

“Naturally. Wait, what?”

“Why don’t we partner up and give each other a helping hand.”

Kakyoin was going to ask about what you meant, but the realization of how great an idea that was hit Kakyoin like a truck. “Oh my God, that’s a great idea!”

Kakyoin pulled you to your feet and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. He went on a tangent about how great of an idea that was, and you couldn’t help but to laugh and go along, shushing him to keep his voice down.

As the two of you lost yourselves in tactics and techniques, you didn’t notice a tall figure stand some distance away.

“Yare yare. I guess I’ll apologize tomorrow. Lovebirds are having too much fun.”

#stardust crusaders #jojo no kimyou na bouken #noriaki kakyoin #kakyoin x reader #jjba x reader #jjba #jojo's bizzare adventure stardust crusaders #jojo's bizarre adventure

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ozymandiascezn · 4 years ago

Text

only in hindsight

one|chapter two

fandom far cry 4

pairing ishwari ghale x pagan min

rating teen, mature

warning language, pagan being pagan

note plot is definitely something I need. tumblr should have wordcount too cuz this feels short and im sorry

“She could be a spy, Pagan. It is unwise to keep her here and jeopardize all that we’ve accomplished.”

Ishwari had long since left the room, retiring to her new room once Gary had returned with the milk. It left Pagan and Yuma alone, and while his mind was on business, hers was on the suspicious guest.

“She wouldn’t put her own child in danger if she was a spy, Yuma, now enough. The Golden Path are getting more brazen. they’ve attempted an attack on an outpost.” Pagan moved his eyes from his glass of wine to Yuma, sending quite a dangerous glare her way. He held the letter out to her. “Find as many of them as you can. Alive or dead, you can even bring them to your little nest in Durgesh prison. Just get them out of my fucking hair.”

Yuma wore a dangerous grin when she heard his words taking the letter with amusement. “This will be easy work. It’ll be like they never existed. The Golden Path might not recover from this loss, either. It will work in our favor.”

“Just do what you can, Yuma. I will handle our guest accordingly. Perhaps she is hiding something, perhaps not.” He cleared his throat and stood from his seat, straightening out his suit. “That’ll be all for now, Yuma.”

She stood in the room for a moment longer, as if doubting his words, but she new Pagan enough to understand that he could handle himself should the need arise. She did not bow when she left.

“Gary! Gary get your ass down here now!” He shouted, patiently waiting for said man to come fumbling into the room. “I’m not getting any fucking younger over here!”

A moment’s silence then there was the hurried thump-thump-thumping of Gary running down the hall and bursting into the dining room. He looked worried for a moment but then relaxed.

“Sir?”

“It’s come to my attention that Yuma and the young Noore are not enough to sway the people into obedience. Find me someone who can handle the job.” He leaned his head back, muttering something to himself. “And while you’re at it, double the security around here.”

“Of course, Sir, will that be all?” Gary bowed, looking up at his superior for further instruction, as he always did.

Pagan thought for a moment before he shook his head. “I can always rely on you to not be a fucking disappointment, Gary. This place would be in shambles without you, really. Once you are done with these assignments, you’re free to do whatever you wish, I suppose.”

Gary seemed a bit hesitant to leave, but with another bow, he left Pagan to handle the tasks rewarded to him.

Pagan hardly slept that night, focused on plans that would bring Mohan to his fucking knees.

Breakfast was only slightly less awkward with Ishwari considering Gary, bless his soul, spent a majority of the time talking to her while Pagan kept his focus on business papers.

“Gary, aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” Pagan raised an eyebrow at the man, a bit amused that he had been so chatty that morning. “If you’d like to keep your job, Gary, I suggest you do less chit-chatting and more working. I would hate to find a replacement for you.” You know how much I’d hate to be without you.

“O - Of course, Sir. I’ll get right on it, right away sir.” Gary stood, quickly rushing out to handle the last matter of finding someone to help govern the regions of Kyrat.

“You didn’t have to do that. We were having a nice conversation.” Ishwari muttered, furrowing her brow at Pagan’s interruption. “It wouldn’t kill you to let people have conversations around here.”

“Gary is my assistant. When I task him with something, I expect him to get it done. He’ll have all the time in the world to talk when I’m dead because he was too busy talking about trivial things to amp up security.” He snapped maliciously, narrowing his eyes at her. “These are very trying times, Ishwari. He will have time for a break, but now is not that time.”

Ishwari pursed her lips, but then Ajay began to cry, writhing and whining. She took him from the wrap around her body and began to bounce him in her lap, shushing and soothing to the best of her abilities.

Pagan tilted his head to the side, setting aside the papers he had been reading to watch her, a bit curious about the infant. He looked a few months old, but Pagan never really had a lot of situations where he was this close to a baby to really tell. He wasn’t even sure if he liked babies. All they did was cry and look useless. He watched for minutes on end as she struggled to silence him, a bit amused if anything.”

“I’m sorry, usually he usually isn’t like this -”

Pagan cocked his head to the side before he shook his head. “Babies will be babies. Perhaps I might give it a try, if you’d allow me to, of course.”

Ishwari hesitated, but then she handed the young infant to Pagan, guiding him in properly holding Ajay. She sat back afterwards, watching the pair with a nervous gaze.

He was oblivious to her worrisome gaze, or he just didn’t care enough to notice. He stood, swaying with the infant as he stared down at him. Something in Pagan’s mind to hum, so he did. It was something he remembered from his childhood, a brief fond memory before he was raised under his father’s meticulous planning. He didn’t recall much of his mother, but he remembered this song.

Ajay quieted, letting out a short squeal of delight as he stared up at Pagan, and for a moment, Pagan seemed to be delighted, too, but then the delight left his face and he was back to himself.

“H - How’d you do that...?” Ishwari murmured, more to herself than anything, as she took Ajay back into her arms.

“Infants, quite fickle aren’t they?” He cleared his throat lightly, returning his attention to his papers as he sat back down. “Perhaps he’d have a much better time if there were toys and such for him to throw about, or whatever it is infants his age care for.”

“He used to have a little rattle and some other toys he used to play with, I think if we had stuff like that, he would be quite happy.” She hummed lightly, looking down. “You’re not all that bad, they were wrong about you.”

Either she knew what he wanted to hear, or she meant that genuinely, Pagan couldn’t be sure, but it pleased him immensely and he couldn’t help that ‘hah suck on that, Mohan’ thought that passed through his mind.

“Is that so? I’ll have Gary find some then, I would be a bad host if I didn’t care for my guests’ needs.” He chimed, a strangely serene smile on his face. “Now, after this, I will be going out for business. I will leave Gary with you, he should be able to handle all your needs and if not, there are plenty of servants on the grounds that will.”

“I thought Gary was your assistant? Won’t you need him on business?” She questioned, a bit suspiciously, as she peppered kisses across Ajay’s belly and face to keep him from a meltdown. “I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that, Ishwari.” He replied, gathering up his papers and tucking them away. “Any questions before I go?”

“When will you return?”

“When I’m done.”

She huffed and that left Pagan quite satisfied. They finished breakfast in silence before Pagan departed and as he said he would, he left Gary behind.

#far cry 4 #fc4 #pagan min #pagan min x ishwari ghale #pagan x ishwari #ishwari ghale #yuma lau #gary #baby ajay ghale #slow burn #an attempt at slow burn #cezn's writing #romance #fanfiction

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1110

survey by evening-hush

Can you drive yet? Tell me what you think about it: I love being able to know how to do it. It’s super convenient and I appreciate how it allows me to travel on my own time and schedule.

What is your favorite time period in history to learn about? When it comes to learning history, it’s not really so much a certain period I like reading about but rather the sub-topic under it. That said, I like learning about social history the most. I’d much rather learn about the recipes people used to make than the weapons they used in war, or who conquered which lands.

What's the saddest report you have ever seen on the news? It unfortunately makes for somewhat frequent news here, but I always hear of news clips covering discarded fetuses - and sometimes even days-old infants - located in a trash bin. It makes me infuriated too, but for the most part it’s heartbreaking.

Describe what your smile looks like: I think I have quite a cheery smile. I just get insecure sometimes because of my teeth, but most of the time I like to smile big and have it look genuine.

What colors do you associate with all of the four seasons? As someone from a country that doesn’t actually get to experience any of the four seasons, here’s what I think of each: winter is white, summer is sky blue/yellow, spring is yellow/pink, and fall is maple-ish/orange.

In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Erm, probably those deep-sea creatures that look more like rocks than fish.

Don't you think old people are awesome? I think most Baby Boomers suck, but there are some rare gems out there, I guess.

What is your favorite day of the week? Why? Friday, of course. Reaching the end of the day, knowing there’s a full weekend ahead of me, feels super relieving and freeing.

What time do you usually get to sleep at night? It varies. On weekdays I’ll sleep anywhere between 9-11 PM; and more recently, for weekends, I’ve been trying to stay up until midnight or beyond because I want to be able to catch up on the hobbies I don’t get to do on weekdays.

When you text, do you use text lingo? If it’s with a friend, yes. Never with a client or anyone I’m communicating with for official work purposes.

Oh! What's your name? Robyn.

Who would you cast to play you in a movie? I guess the obvious choice would be Vanessa Hudgens since she’s Filipina?? but idk. It would be neat to have someone as badass as Florence Pugh or Emma Stone to play me, though.

If you could go back in time & live in any decade, which would it be & why? I’d shake it up and pick some random, obscure, perhaps unremarkable decade like the 1570s. Just so I have absolutely no clue what to expect.

What superpower do you think would be the most handy in times of trouble? Manipulation of thoughts/emotions. It’s not the most ethical, but that’s not what we’re talking about here lmao.

Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or...? I believe everyone can have their own truth when it comes to love.

What natural disaster scares you the most? Earthquakes.

Why are you best friends with your best friend? She just gets me, I guess. We get along very well, our humors match perfectly, but most of all she’s patient with me and I’ve always been able to see that she genuinely cares about me.

What quirk bothers you the most about other people? People are so quick to cancel others these days; it’s amusing to watch people enthusiastically pick fights over just about anything.

Would you ever marry for money? The idea itself is attractive, but I’m not sure I would actually push through with it. I think I have to love someone should I ever marry them.

What is one of the toughest things you have ever had to do? Move on with my life. Acknowledge the ugly emotions and acknowledge that I’m not doing ok.

What outrageous career could you see yourself wanting to do? This is outrageous for me, but modeling. The career itself is not strange, but I used to want to be a runway model in my early teens and it’s funny to look back on now.

Do you world peace is truly a possibility in the future? No.

What song lyrics best reflect your personality? Idk about personality, but right now, “Why do memories glow the way real moments don’t?” is super relevant to my life at the moment.

In what way would you want to help change the world? Being one with marginalized groups in their various fights and causes.

Do you think it is important to tell the truth or spare someone's feelings? It depends on the gravity of the situation, I guess? Like white lies are fine, but in more serious situations it’s always better to tell the truth. I remember that when my great-aunt died last year, all her siblings made it a point not to inform their brother (my great-uncle) who recently had a heart surgery and was thus very vulnerable and could possibly have an attack if he ever found out. They kept it from him for nearly the entire year and it drooooove meeeeee nutsssssssss. I suppose it was understandable for the first few days, but when those days turned to several months, I started to wish they’d tell him sooner because I felt like it would be a lot worse once he learned she’d been dead since the start of the year. Anyway, I was recently informed he knew about it already and I never heard drama come out of it, so I guess it was dealt with well.

What is the most awkward moment you have ever had to endure? Ugh, probably that time an online delivery arrived at home and it was a fucking vibrator/dildo meant for my parents.

When driving down the road looking for an address do you turn the radio low? Hahahaha yessss.

Pretend you are a really good cook, what meal would you make? Risotto.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your closet? Why? My mom jeans. It’s a classic look that always works, plus it’s super comfy.

What do you think of when you look at the stars? Looking up at the stars means I’m thinking hard. It gets me in a reflective mood.

If you could say ONE THING to the president, what would it be? Ughhhh fuck you get your presidency over with already we are all fucking tired.

What is your favorite kind of weather? As long as it’s chilly I’m happy.

If a turtle doesn't have a shell, is he homeless or naked? Both, I guess?

What's one thing you feel you must do in your life before it ends? Travel to a different continent.

What Disney princess are you most like? Personality wise, I mean. Ariel was such a hopeless romantic and reckless and dumb when it came to love, so let’s go with her.

Tell me about your worst fashion mistake: I was a late bloomer and let my mom buy my clothes for me at ages where I definitely should’ve already stopped doing so.

Do you believe in astrology? No.

Do you look into people's eyes when you talk to them? Not always.

You can have one of the following two things: trust or love. Pick one. Don’t they come together though? If I love someone it means I trust them?? But it’s whatever. I’ll go with trust.

Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend? Yeah, I think I’m thoughtful and I like that I’m good at remembering small details about my friends. I’d love a friend like that.

What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or that you don't love them? Probably that I don’t. I’ve never had to do it before, either.

What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Self-satisfaction.

What did you think about this survey thingy? :] Nice roster of random questions! I personally enjoyed it.

#survey #surveys

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drabbles-n-doodles · 5 years ago

Text

Flames and Starlight

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Multi Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga Relationship: Dolcetto | Dorochet &; Original Character, (more to be added as story progresses) Characters: Dolcetto | Dorochet, Original Non-Human Character(s) Tags: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Loss of Parent(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, As Story Progresses There Will Be More Anyway, Also More Characters and Relationships, Misgendering, But only a little

Ao3 Link

_________________________________________

Chapter 1: Love and Devotion Help All Things Grow

He is nine years old when his world is thrown into chaos. It happens slowly and yet somehow all at once, and both things are true. It happens in a car ride on an average morning of an average day, a morning where he’s happy and loved and telling his mother about the little bird that landed on his windowsill when he woke up. How he tried to draw a picture of it but couldn’t get the feathers right, and could she help him fix it later when they were back at the hotel, please? It is an average moment.

Until it is not.

Then it is screeching tires, his mother’s scream piercing the air, the smell of burning rubber and metal. It is blood on the pavement, on his shirt, on his father’s hands. It is the horn, busted and blaring while he covers his head to try and drown out the noise. It is waiting. Waiting while people yell from outside the vehicle, waiting while his eyes burn from the smoke, waiting for his mother to tell him everything is going to be okay.

But she never does.

He is delirious by the time someone pulls him from the wreckage, not even able to ask for his mother and father.

When he wakes, seemingly in a hospital room of some sort, and finally does ask for his parents, the serious men in white coats ignore his question. In fact, they ignore all his questions, puttering about his small room and acting as if he isn’t there.

It only takes a few days for him to recover from what little injuries he got from the crash. He asks about his parents every day, and every day his question goes unanswered until he realizes he’s probably never going to get an answer. When he’s able to walk on his own, they tell him he’s been picked for a very special job and they lead him from the little hospital room and down a long white hall to another room with big metal tables and cold seats. There’s a sour-faced little man with a clipboard who asks him all kinds of questions, and when they’re done the man smiles and tells him they’re going to give him an extra special number for a name.

He learns to hate that man’s smile. He learns to fear it.

His number is 24601.

_________________________________________

He is given a new room, but it is not a room. It is a cage with metal bars for walls and he is not alone, he’s pressed in with other children and adults like animals in a cage. They all have numbers instead of names, and his, which didn’t feel special when it was given to him, feels even less so now.

They are all scared of the men who smile, because the men who smile always come to pull someone from the cage, someone who doesn’t always come back. The ones who come back are never the same as before they were taken, and he learns that the men who smile like to hurt them. He does not learn why, because none of them know.

He makes a friend, another boy only a few years older than him, who has been here for months but still manages to find reasons to smile. In secret, under hushed whispers, they trade the names their parents gave them. The other boy’s name is Dolcetto, and the secret knowledge feels warm in his mouth like a taste of pie still steaming where it cools on an open window ledge. His own name feels like a death in his mouth when he says it, makes his eyes sting with tears for the parents he hasn’t seen in weeks. Together they come up with a new name, even more secret, and when they settle on Asher he learns the meaning of the word hope.

Dolcetto tells him about the farm he grew up on, about the animals his father taught him to care for, about the fights he and his siblings used to get into over things that seem silly now. Asher tells about the desert of his homeland that he hasn’t seen in over a year, about the nights that are so clear the stars seem to sing with the force of their shimmering lights, about the songs the wise-woman sang to make the rains come and breathe life back into the sands for the coming harvest.

When Dol asks him how anything can grow in a desert, Ash just laughs and repeats the words that were a motto of his clan.

“Love and devotion help all things grow.”

Dol asks him if he remembers any of the wise-woman’s songs, and Ash does- drilled into him from an infant they are as much a part of him as his eyes and hair- and they huddle together in their cage as Ash begins to sing quietly, falteringly at first, because his voice is young and the tune is centuries-old, but then others in the cage join in. Others who have the same striking, cherry eyes, the same moonlight hair, and Ash feels a glimpse of home. The glimpse is short-lived.

Two days later they take Dolcetto, and Asher bites three men for their crime before they can manage to pull the older boy from the cell. It takes five men for them to get Ash out and into another cage in another room, and he is left to stew in his anger and sadness, emotions too big for the small body that contains them. They deny him food as punishment, one day for each person he bit or scratched, and by the time he’s brought back to the group cell the fight has been all but starved out of him. He doesn’t make any more friends. He doesn’t have any more questions. Instead, he quietly sings to himself until his voice is hoarse, committing all the songs he knows to memory so that there’s something the smiling men in white coats can’t take away.

_________________________________________

Time passes, so much so that Ash no longer knows how long it’s been since he was first brought here. He’s older now, and of the group that was here was he was first shoved in this cage, he’s one of only a handful left. New numbers have come and gone, but even after all this time none of them have figured out what makes the scientists choose certain people over others. They know nothing beyond the knowledge that being chosen is likely a death sentence. Ash’s fight has returned, but it’s subdued, hidden even. He keeps it underneath his fear, close to his heart, ready to be used when it’s needed most. He doesn’t know when that will be, but he knows it’s one of the few things he has to cling to in this place.

He still doesn’t have any new friends, for getting close only means getting hurt, and the risk of losing someone again is a greater cost than he’s willing to pay. He still doesn’t know what happened to his parents, but he knows if they were still alive he would not have ended up here.

In his mind, he buries them and sings a eulogy song in their memory. It’s the only song he hasn’t yet sung out loud, and he likely never will. He imagines their bodies, given back to the sands that gave them life, and sends a silent prayer to Ishval begging his protection over their souls. His understanding of the death rites of his people are only a child’s knowledge, but it is all he has and he refuses to let it go.

There are many things he refuses to let go.

When the scientists finally come for him he does more than bite and scratch. One man’s nose is swollen purple and leaking red, another sports a black eye and nearly lost a finger to this child with fire in his eyes. The sour-faced man watches it all unfold from the corner of the room, clipboard in hand as per usual. Ash expects to see disapproval on his face, to be locked up alone again, but the man is smiling. He is not just smiling, he is almost manically gleeful, and it’s the most terrifying thing Asher has seen so far.

In the end, they manage to hold his arms and shove a needle in his neck, and Asher’s world goes black a scant few seconds later.

_________________________________________

Ash is eleven when he learns what happens to people who have been chosen by the scientists.

He wakes up in a room lit only by candles, lacking the harsh, fluorescent lights he’s grown accustomed to. His hands are not so much bound as they are chained to the floor by thick, stone bands. It seems excessive, he thinks, to put so much effort into keeping a mere child in one place. On the floor around him are strange markings, written with some white, powdery material, all contained in a giant circle. Beside him, within the circle and also chained down, are several large cat-like animals. They have spotty markings as if someone dipped their fingers in paint and then pressed them repeatedly upon the creature’s body.

They look just as scared and angry as Asher feels.

There are scientists all around the outside of the circle and its markings, taking notes on their stupid little boards and making comments about the thing they’ve drawn on the floor, and he listens even though he barely understands what they’re talking about.

“You’ve adjusted it to include getting rid of the restraints first, correct? The last few got horribly disfigured when we left them chained down, and this subject is a very promising case, we don’t want to waste her potential.”

“Of course, oh wait, there’s an error here.”

“I’m running low on chalk, someone fetch another box from the storeroom.”

“We should sedate her first, she’s a feisty one, did you see what she did to Henrikson?”

Their voices wash over him and he bristles, eyes fiery as ever at their purposeful use of the wrong words, but he’s got little time to dwell on them before someone comes up from behind to jab another needle in his neck. Instead of falling asleep, this time he simply feels heavy. His arms hang slack and his thoughts are slow, and it takes all of his energy just to glare at the scientists around him.

He’s in a thick daze when they all finally step away, far back from the edges of the circle, and that sour-faced man he so wishes would disappear kneels next to the circle, pressing his hands down against the edge of it.

There is a flash of crackling, purple-red light, arcing along the white lines on the floor like lightning jumping from one storm cloud to another. It’s bright enough to hurt Ash’s eyes, but his arms are too heavy to lift so he shuts them instead. He hears a scream and snarling, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire and he can do nothing to get away from the pain. The scream turns to sobbing before he realizes it’s his own voice making the noise. Everything hurts, so much so that he can’t yet open his eyes, and it’s all just intensely wrong in a way he doesn’t yet have the words for.

He feels, suddenly, like he’s being attacked from all sides by the sounds hitting his ears, by the scents in the air of candle wax, chalk, sweat, blood, and numerous other things, all combining to overpower his senses. He is afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find out what is really going on here, afraid that even if he sees he won’t understand.

Much too soon, he is forced to open them anyway by a hand shoving roughly at his shoulder, and when he does the world looks just slightly different. The room, which had been dim before and should be almost shrouded in darkness from the absence of the candlelight, was clear. Not so much illuminated as it was that Ash simply wasn’t hindered by the darkness anymore.

When he moves to feel his face, wondering if they’d done something to his eyes, he freezes at the sight of his hand. It is covered in thick, white fur, dappled with finger-spots like the big cats had been, and when he flexes his fingers instinctively he sees claws unsheathe themselves from what should have been his fingertips.

The scientist at his side, who had so roughly shaken him, is furiously and intently taking notes at a rapid pace, but Ash hardly notices him, focusing only on the gleaming weapons he’d been given. Then, as if by some kind of magic, the fur and claws fade, his hand shifting to return to it’s child-shape, and it is a moment before he realizes he’s been made to sleep again. He wakes in a new cage, with new people, some of whom he remembers from before they were taken, and for a moment hope fills his chest as he looks at all the faces around him. But Dolcetto is not here, and all he can assume is that his friend is gone forever. He refuses to let this new heartbreak temper his anger.

It does not take him long to realize the others in this cage are like him, they have been through the circle and were changed somehow, but he is still just a child and these are concepts beyond his understanding. Or at least they are until he sees one of the others suddenly burst into a hulking thing with gray skin and massive, blunt teeth that jut out of their face. They throw themselves against the bars of the cage, screaming in a voice that is a man’s and yet somehow… Not.

It’s several minutes before the scientists flood the room, but when they do they shoot something at the… Person? Monster? Ash doesn’t know what to call them, and somehow that is far scarier than knowing. The effect is almost instant, as the person falls to the ground, snoring. After a moment the change recedes, and they appear to be like any other man again. Knowing what they can become, what they all can become, sends a strange chill down Asher’s spine, and he has to fight the urge to burst into tears.

The man is quickly removed from the cage, taken to another room, probably to be left by himself. In Asher’s mind, it is fuel being added to the burning pyre of anger in his heart, and he stokes it in secret, content to bide his time until he has a chance to actually fight back against the injustices being inflicted in this cursed place.

#nocturnal emissions #Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga #Dolcetto | Dorochet #Non-Human Original Character(s)#Angst and Feels #Canon-Typical Violence #Loss of Parent(s)#Additional Tags to Be Added as Story Progresses #Misgendering #But Only a Little

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epic-ash-and-sora-fan · 4 years ago

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Alive Chap 2

Chapter 2: Explanations.

Clemont couldn't take his eyes off it, or should he say him? Whatever the case, this day went from strange to outright impossible, How in the name of science did Brad do this? Why did he do this? The teen leant against a nearby table to stay on his feet. Brad must've noticed this as he bought a chair over which Clemont gratefully sat on.

"This...this is a joke, right? It has to be a joke."

What other explanation was there? Aside from the ludicrous one. Sure Clemont didn’t know how Brad got that boy in on this but anything would make more sense than what he was told.

“Afraid not," said Brad with a smirk.

“But….how?….It’s impossible! Is….is this even legal?!”

Brad rubbed the back of his head, giving Clemont a slightly sheepish look.

“I’ll admit it’s a bit of a grey area. Honestly, we hadn’t really meant to create him. Well, we did, but we hadn't intended these results."

Clemont took a deep breath to try and calm himself. It wasn’t really working.

“So how did it happen?” he asked.

“Well, we thought it would be helpful if we could create sort of dummy bodies for hospitals. They would be useful for training students who are looking to become surgeons. We were about done with this one when one of my colleagues, thought it would be amusing if we try to get the heart beating. I decided to indulge her because I thought the heart would stop after a few seconds, like always but...”

“It kept going?” guessed Clemont.

“Yes. Once started it didn’t stop. We had waited for five minutes when Freya discovered something shocking. He was breathing! Not only was the heart beating but the brain was also working. In hindsight, maybe the reason all the other hearts stopped beating after a few seconds was because they weren’t...for lack of a better term, connected to a brain. Now that we’ve put everything together though...it was something I failed to consider. Anyway, I thought Freya was gonna faint right then and there. I thought I was too. It’s nothing short of a miracle!”

Clemont turned to the one-way mirror where the boy was sleeping. The boy who was artificially made. Clemont still couldn’t wrap his head around it. It really was a miracle. This was completely unprecedented. Sure, he built Clembot, but he was made of metal. This boy could easily pass off as a normal teenager!

“How long has he been….alive?” he asked, still watching the boy as he seemed to snuggle further into his sheets.

"About four days," said Brad. "We've of course done plenty of health checks and some tests, all non-invasive I assure you. He’s perfectly healthy. There is one thing that concerns me though.”

“What’s that?”

“His immune system is very weak. It’s to be expected considering that it hasn’t had the chance to fight off illnesses. Right now even something as insignificant as a cold could be dangerous. That’s why we’re keeping him in that room, just for the time being. It has been sterilized so he should be relatively safe. We would give him vaccinations but as I said, he's artificial. We don't know what those would do to him. We need to do some tests first. Consider every possible risk. so until then, he'll have to stay in that room, or in this building at the very least.”

“Wow….” It’s not often that Clemont was left speechless, but that was all he could say at this point. Despite his initial misgivings, Clemont had to admit what Brad managed to do was incredible. Something like this never happened before. He understood now why Brad didn’t want to go public yet. This sort of news would blow up beyond comprehension. That boy would be famous but also at high risk of being mistreated or manipulated. It’s a cruel world out there. He stood up and walked over to the one-way mirror placing his hand on the glass.

“What’s his name?” Clemont found himself asking.

“He….doesn't have one yet," admitted Brad. "Any ideas?"

Clemont started at this. Brad was asking him ? He didn’t even know this boy. He was about to voice his concerns when what sounded like a cough was heard from the one-way mirror. The boy was awake now and had his hands on his neck.

“Is he okay?!” cried Clemont.

Brad let out a laugh.

"He's fine. He does that when he's thirsty. Suppose I should get his lunch. Hey, why don't you join me so you can meet him."

“M….me?! Are you sure?”

“Of course,” said Brad standing up. “In fact. I’d like you to be the one to keep an eye on him. I know it’s not exactly what you signed up for but we’re all so busy with our research that we hardly have time to give him the care he needs. He needs to learn to interact with others. He’s a blank slate right now and being isolated isn’t going to help matters, so I’d like you to take care of him, interact with him, play with him. Teach him everyday skills. What do you say?”

"That….that's asking a lot," said Clemont as he practically tied his fingers together.

“I understand this is sudden and I apologise for that, the idea just this moment came to me. Well, you don’t have to answer right away. For now, let’s get his lunch seen to.”

Before they could leave, however, a researcher around Brad’s age came in holding a clipboard. He had burgundy hair and wore a similar lab coat to the other researcher. He gave Clemont a look before turning to Brad.

“Excuse me, sir, we have the results of the latest test I think you’ll find them fascinating.”

“Thank you, Reginald. Oh, this is Clemont. The new intern.”

Reginald turned his gaze to the one-way mirror. “I see you showed him that thing.”

“For the hundredth time, Reginald he’s not a thing," said Brad sternly. “In fact, Clemont here will be seeing to his needs if he accepts the job.”

“Are you certain that’s wise sir?” asked Reginald with a touch of testiness in his voice. “I know you didn’t accept my proposal the other day but if you’d just...”

“Reginald we’ve been over this!” snapped Brad. “Unless you have something new to tell me, please return to your duties.”

Reginald’s eyebrows creased but he nodded and exited the room but not without giving Clemont a hard look.

Clemont cleared his throat if only to combat the awkward silence that followed that unpleasant encounter.

“Sorry about him,” sighed Brad. “Reginald isn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he’s very good at what he does. Shall we get down to business?”

“R...right," said Clemont shaking of the bad feeling he had, and followed Brad to another room.

Interestingly, lunch was already pre-made. Brad pulled out some cheese sandwiches from the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice. He had Clemont wash his hands thoroughly so that they didn't carry any harmful bacteria. Once Brad scoured his own hands they headed back to the boy's room. Brad pulled out his badge and placed it against the reader next to the door. After it beeped he opened the door. Clemont was sure if his heart pounded any harder it would pop out of his chest.

“Food time lad,” said Brad as he put the tray of food on to the teen’s lap. He gestured Clemont to come over. Which he did.

“This is Clemont. He’ll be the one bringing food and spending time with you for the time being.”

Clemont felt his heart leap into his throat as the boy looked at him, He had chocolate brown eyes which held the innocence of an infant, which he sort of was despite his appearance. He had strange markings on his cheeks which Clemont guessed were imperfections. He was wearing a black t-shirt which looked two sizes too big. If Clemont met him down the street he would never have guessed that this teenager was built not born. He looked so real.

“Well I better look over the test results Reginald gave me," said Brad. "Will you be okay on your own for now, Clemont?"

“Oh...sure no problem," said Clemont. His nerves were all over the place, and he didn't know how successful he was at hiding it. Still how hard can sitting with an artificial teenager be?

“Okay, then I’ll see you two later.” He gives Clemont a card that appeared to have a phone number on it. “Call if you need anything.”

Clemont nodded.

“Right. Thank you.”

Brad nodded and left the room. Clemont sat on a chair next to the bed and watched the boy eat, though he played with his food more than ate it. It was intriguing to watch. Despite looking around Clemont's age, this boy had the mentality of maybe a two-year-old. It ended in a bit of a mess but the sandwiches and orange juice were gone.

“Heh, you’ve got crumbs all over you.” laughed Clemont he pulled a hanky out of his pocket and started wiping the teen down he even got some crumbs in his hair somehow. Clemont began to brush them out. He jerked his hand back for a second before touching it again. The hair even felt real. Well almost real. It was smoother than hair tends to be but other than that it felt like normal hair.

“ash...”

The boy looked up at Clemont inquisitively. Clemont laughed a little.

"Sorry, your hair, it kind of looks like someone poured ash on your head." Clemont didn't know if this boy even understood him, but he felt compelled to keep talking. "It's not quite the same colour, but I guess if there's a lot of ash it would come pretty close. Hey, how's that for a name? Ash?"

It was a ridiculous way to come up with a name but Clemont doubted he would think of anything better, and honestly he did look like an Ash. It was like the name was made for him. The boy just continued to stare at Clemont as if he didn’t hear him. Technically, Ash was only a few days old, so Clemont didn’t really know what to expect. He took another glance around the room, now noticing how empty it really was. There wasn’t even a window.

“Isn’t there anything for you to do in here? No TV? Not even something to read?”

Another blank stare.

Well, that answered that. Clemont now understood the predicament that Placebo Net unwittingly placed themselves in. Teaching Ash was gonna be a full-time job, and they were busy with important research So it looks like it fell to him. Definitely not what he pictured when he accepted this temporary job, but he was here now, so he was gonna make sure to do a good job. It can’t be much different than looking after Bonnie. Accept for the massive language barrier.

“Don’t you get bored?” he asked. “Like when you really want to do something?”

The synthetic boy still said nothing but didn’t take his eyes off of the teen. Clemont gave a sad smile.

“I guess you really don’t understand huh? That’s okay. Hope you don’t mind me talking though. It’ll get awkward if it gets too quiet. Clemont sat back down on his chair. While not official yet since he still needed to tell Brad he decision. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and help this boy with the basics.

“Well...anyway...I’m Clemont.” He said then pointed to himself. “Clemont.” He pointed at the boy. “Ash.”

The boy stared at Clemont a bit more then he lifted his own hand and pointed to himself.

“A…..A….Aaaash?”

Clemont nearly fell backwards. Did this scientific wonder just speak?! Maybe he was just repeating what Clemont was saying. No, this boy pointed at himself so did seem to understand that Clemont was talking about him.

“Yes, yes, you’re Ash. That’s your name….urm if you like it. A name is what we call people. It’s something personal. We use names to let someone know we’re talking to them. It gives us an identity.”

The boy….or Ash….pointed at Clemont.

“C…..Cemont?”

Clemont let out a nervous laugh.

“Erm….close enough.”

Clemont soon found himself telling the boy about his life. About his dad, his sister and about being a gym leader, though he was sure that much of it went over the teen’s head.

“Siiister?”

Clemont nodded.

"Yeah, a sister is….hmm, how do I explain this? A sister is someone who has the same parents as you. Oh, a parent is someone who….bought you into this world. So, I guess that sort of makes Brad your dad, in a way."

He let out a little laugh, though Ash just gave him a look that said he didn’t fully understand.

Before the somewhat one-sided conversation could go any further the door opened and Brad came in.

“Clemont, sorry this totally slipped my mind. I need to give you this all-access card. The one we gave you expires after 24 hours. Just in case you didn’t accept our offer. I just need you to read and sign the contract. Standard procedure.”

"Oh okay sure," said Clemont as he walked towards Brad and accepted the clipboard. After carefully reading the contract he signed it finding it reasonable. He felt a sense of dread when he heard a loud thud behind him. Clemont hardly dared to look and when he did his fears were confirmed.

Ash was no longer sitting on the bed but was now sprawled out on the floor and was in the process of trying to pick himself up. Clemont was at his side in an instant immediately followed by Brad.

“Ash, are you okay?!”

“Ash?” asked Brad with amusement.

"I...guess I found a name," said Clemont as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, I see, not bad.” laughed Brad. “It suits him I think. I’ll let the others know.”

Ash moaned and rubbed his forehead.

“Owwww….”

"Well, at least now we know he can feel pain," said Brad with a nervous laugh. "Okay, kid. let’s get you back onto the bed, then we’ll get some ice for your noggin.”

“I’m sorry,” said Clemont. “I turned away for just a second and…”

“Don't worry about it Clemont," reassured Brad with a wave of his hand. "If anyone's to blame it's me for distracting you. In fact, I would consider this a good sign. This boy-"

“Ash.”

Clemont had to stifle a laugh when Brad jolted and stared at the artificial teen who pointed to himself.

“Ash. I….identee”

Brad blinked before seemingly recovering from the shock and continued.

“Ahem, pardon me, Ash never actually tried to follow anyone before. Not to mention he’s talking already. He must’ve taken a liking to you.”

Clemont blushed slightly. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he turned to Ash.

“Here, let me see.” He gently took Ash’s hand and moved it so he could assess the damage. There was a reddish mark above his left eye. Clemont cringed slightly. No doubt there will be a bruise there tomorrow.

It didn’t take long to get Ash back onto the bed and with Brad’s help made an ice pack. Ash flinched back when Clemont placed it on the bruised area.

“Sorry, Ash, I know it’s really cold but it will help your head feel better.” He reached out and rubbed Ash’s shoulder. “It’s okaaaay. I’m not gonna hurt you. This will help I promise.”

More slowly this time he gently placed the icepack onto Ash’s forehead. While he did flinch again he didn’t pull away. Whether Ash understood Clemont’s words or that he recognised his tone of voice as unthreatening Clemont didn’t know but at the very least progress was being made. He took Ash’s hand and placed it over the icepack.

“Just hold it there for now okay? Good, just like that.”

Ash looked up at Clemont with the most innocent eyes Clemont has seen on anyone other than Bonnie.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. Said Clemont giving Ash a thumbs up. “You’re doing good.”

"Colour me impressed," said Brad. "It's a job for us to keep this boy still when we’re doing health checks and here you are treating a bump on the head and he barely moves.

Clemont rubbed the back of his head.

“I…..I guess you just need to make him feel safe.”

“I see, pretty much like any other child," said Brad. "You're a natural at this Clemont."

“Well, it helps that I have a little sister.” chuckled Clemont. He took a deep breath. Now seemed like a good time as any to tell Brad what he decided.”

“Anyway, I’ve thought about it and...I’ll do it! I’ll take the job.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know how good of a job I’d do but it has to better than that Reginald guy looking after him right?”

Brad let out a laugh.

“Might have to agree with you there, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s already peeved with me as it is.”

He placed a hand on Clemont’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Clemont this means a lot and really takes a load off my mind.”

Clemont smiled then turned to Ash.

“Well, guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me around. Ash.”

Ash looked up at Clemont still holding the icepack to his face, and did something that he didn’t expect to see so soon.

He smiled.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day went with no incident. Ash was no worse for wear after his tumble. Which was a relief for everyone.

Clemont lied on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His room, at least for now, was pretty modest, considering it was really used as a break-room there was a small table with a couple of chairs and even a kitchenette. Clemont’s mind was going over the day’s events making it near impossible to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning he gave up. Kicking off the sheets he got out of bed and exited his room. Hoping a walk will tire him out. Being sure to take his badge with him, he left his room. Sure many of the employees have gone home for the day, but a few, namely Brad and some security guard remained behind, and Clemont didn’t want to cause confusion. He was certain Brad would’ve told them he was employed here, albeit, temporarily, but one can’t be too careful.

Clemont walked down the hallways. The facility looked so different at night it was almost scary. He wasn’t all that surprised when he found himself at the same door that Brad bought him through to introduce him to Ash.

Clemont still found it astonishing that Placebo Net not only managed to replicate organs such as hearts and lungs but even created a living breathing human out of them. This would easily make the history books if Brad was ever comfortable with going public. Clemont shuddered as he opened the door and went inside, walking straight towards the one-way mirror. Ash was in bed, fast asleep of course. Clemont sighed. didn’t know when or if Brad would ever make Ash’s origins public, but he actually hoped it wouldn't be too soon. He had no idea how the public would react to Ash if they knew the truth about him. If there was anything Clemont learned about people, in general, it's that a lot of them hated anything that went against the norm. New things scared them. In fact, he was surprised and in a way, quite humbled that Brad even trusted him with this secret to begin with. He was essentially a stranger who could easily go straight to the press about this. Not that he would of course. He promised to keep this a secret and he intended to keep that promise, if just for Ash's safety.

Clemont placed his hand on the glass as he watched Ash sleep. The thought of him getting hurt or worse by some insensitive intolerant jerk made Clemont’s blood run cold. There was no way he was going to let that happen. Period.

I’ll keep you safe, Ash. I promise.

T.B.C

#pokemon #ash x clemont #diodeshipping #fanfic #fanfiction #alive #AU

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almasexya · 4 years ago

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Godzilla and the Really Big Shrimp (Ebirah, Horror of the Deep, 1966)

The last time we saw Godzilla was back in Invasion of Astro Monster, and during that review I mentioned that the series was on the cusp of going off the cliff. Well, here we are y’all - we’ve arrived at the start of Godzilla’s Nonsense Period, and we won’t be leaving anytime soon. This isn’t to say that there aren’t still some solid pictures in here, but we’re nowhere near the heights of something like Mothra vs. Godzilla or the original Ghidorah.

Before we can really talk about Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (or Godzilla vs. The Sea Monster as it was known in the US) we have to discuss the reality it lives in. Kaiju pictures were getting expensive, prohibitively so, requiring a lot of time and effort to make big hulking rubber suits and miniature sets for the actors to stomp around in. It’s possible Toho, looking over at what was happening with Daiei and Gamera, decided to set their sights squarely on kids to make up their costs, and that meant cutting costly city sets and simplifying the plot.

Ebirah began its life as a King Kong vehicle, with Toho planning to have the big ape square off against its giant shrimp monster, but that plan ended up falling through, so they stuck Godzilla in at the last minute seemingly without making any changes to the plot (this explains some of the weird stuff Godzilla does in this film, like getting woken up by lightning and seemingly having a thing for a female character).

With Godzilla slotted in as the main kaiju, Toho was ready to go, but before we can talk about that, we have to talk about our new director, Jun Fukuda, a man as well known as Ishiro Honda in the Godzilla fandom, but not really for the right reasons. Fukuda would helm the majority of the Godzilla films from here on out, and they tend to share the same loopy, kid-friendly sensibilities throughout. Whether this was a studio mandate or just how Fukuda preferred to operate is up for debate, but his light, breezy directorial style is a direct contrast to Honda’s gravity, and it’s at this point that screenwriter Shinichi Sekizawa really started to let loose.

Ebirah begins downright strangely, with an old shaman proclaiming that Yata (whoever that is) is alive. We then cut to a group of teens in the middle of a dance marathon, and already we’re miles away from the silliest of the previous Godzilla pictures. See one of the teens wants the boat so he can go look for his brother, Yata, who vanished in the south seas. After they lose the contest, they set off to the pier to go hang around in a yacht and complain, before running into a shady looking guy, Yoshimura (Akira Takarada) who’s apparently sleeping inside.

Yoshimura inexplicably tells the teens they can sleep on the yacht too, after which he promptly conks back out, only to wake up to find the boat underway in the middle of the ocean. Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be!

Ryota, the kid missing his brother (Toru Watanabe) commandeered the yacht more or less by himself, and after a bit of fuss from Yoshimura, who’s quickly outed as a rogueish type who was hiding out on the yacht, they all just kind of go along with it, before their boat gets smashed by a giant claw and they end up on a seemingly deserted island.

What follows is a lot of general traipsing around and scouting the island - it doesn’t take the leads long to find out they’re sharing the island with a bunch of nefarious Bond villain knock-offs, the Red Bamboo, who appear to be using the island to work on some kind of nuclear something or other, their island guarded by a giant shrimp named Ebirah that destroys any ship that comes near. The characters sneak around the Red Bamboo base, getting into some fairly stakeless trouble with the leader of the bad guys (Akihiko Hirata, once again sporting an eyepatch, though on the other eye this time) and then getting separated to go off on their own adventures. Ryota eventually finds his brother, who has been hiding out on the nearby Infant Island, which looks more like a fun paradise than the irradiated dead zone it began its life as, but the two decide to go back and rescue the other natives who have been imprisoned and put to use as slave labor by the Red Bamboo.

There’s a lot of knock-off Bond stuff here, including an attractive native girl Daiyo (Kumi Mizuno) and a lot of chases and near-miss encounters with the bad guys. While it’s not terribly uninteresting to watch, it nearly pushes Godzilla out of his own movie, and by the time the characters wake him up and set him on the Red Bamboo, there’s not a lot of time left for him to shine.

The human characters don’t fare much better - Yoshimura steals most of the scenes since he’s really the only one with a character, and there’s not much there either aside from his trusty lockpick. The three boys sort of fade into the background, and Akihiko Hirata doesn’t get to chew as much scenery as one would expect playing a store brand Bond villain, which more or less just leaves us with the kaiju.

Like in the previous film, Godzilla is more or less a good guy here - the protagonists actively cheer him on, and worry about his welfare when the Red Bamboo are about to blow up the island in a nuclear explosion. The suit is... not the greatest. It follows the trend we’ve been on since the first Ghidorah film, with Godzilla looking blunt and nice and not really at all scary. While he’s certainly going to look worse later on, that doesn’t really do much for me now.

Ebirah, while a neat piece of suitmation to be sure, doesn’t do much to impress, especially considering the previous films involved Ghidorah. It looks, realistically, like a giant shrimp, and it’s most effective when it’s plucking boats out of the water and drowning people, represented by a sinister claw. At the end of the day Ebirah is literally just a big shrimp, with no real powers or abilities other than breathing underwater and swimming fast, which doesn’t exactly make for exciting kaiju combat.

The fights between the two just aren’t much to look at, with an endless rock-throwing scene (does anyone enjoy these?) and a lot of moments where the two just kind of flail around and knock into each other before one of them falls over. The suit actors absolutely put in a ton of work to film the battle scenes, especially the underwater ones, but it feels like a lot of effort for nothing, considering how dull the finished product actually ends up looking, with the most notable scene being Godzilla ripping off one of Ebirah’s claws in a surprisingly brutal scene.

The special effects in general are pretty sparse here, with Godzilla stomping on the Red Bamboo base, a clear step down from the elaborate city sets of Astro Monster. We also can’t ignore the “fight” with a ratty-looking giant condor that comes out of absolute nowhere and gets dealt with in the span of about 30 seconds in a scene that feels like a fever dream. The interior sets of the Red Bamboo base look nice, with lots of colorful pipes and blinking lights, and the Mothra prop makes its last appearance until the 90s, though the big moth is basically just a plot device here, and sadly doesn’t bring the Ito sisters back with her.

All the while we have Masaru Sato’s bizarre surf rock score blaring throughout, which would be the starkest contrast possible to Akira Ifukube’s bombastic marches until Godzilla vs. Hedorah hit the scene with whatever the fuck it was doing. I can’t say the soundtrack doesn’t work, especially with the plot leaning on Bondian antics so heavily, but it certainly feels more like a Saturday morning cartoon than the series had ever felt up until this point.

Overall, Ebirah, Horror of the Deep is more mediocre than anything else, a fairly cheap film made to appeal to a younger audience, with not a lot of solid monster action to make up for it. If you want to see a couple guys in rubber suits hammering on each other, there’s better places you can look than here.

#monster monday #yeah it's Tuesday sue me #Ebirah Horror of the Deep #Godzilla

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buttsonthebeach · 5 years ago

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A Secret Shared

@im-calling-the-lord did me the honor of letting me write Abby and Solas again! Thanks friend!

I previously wrote about them in A Gilded Cage and @im-calling-the-lord wrote about them in Eternity.

Pairing: Abby Grace x Solas (non-Lavellan, non-Inquisitor OC x Solas)

Rating: Teen for references to childbirth and canon-typical violence

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Abby had been a secret-keeper all her life.

There was the big secret, of course - mysterious origins, inexplicable powers - but it was all the little ones that made her really good at it. All the little mischiefs and adventures of childhood, like staying out too late or wandering too far or tempting fate with a magical experiment or stealing a bite of the pie her mother had insisted needed to wait until after dinner. The world was wide and she wanted to live in every corner of it, even the corners she needed to stay away from, and so she had to become good at keeping secrets.

Solas was always her partner in those secrets. It was what formed their friendship - their shared thirst for knowledge and experience without limitation. And now, so many years beyond childhood, beyond their reunion in Ghilan’nain’s great and terrifying hall, that had a new layer to it. They were bonded in truth, wed to one another - but in secret. It was fitting, giving their friendship, given their lives.

Solas was also a partner in Abby’s latest secret.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Abby turned that thought over in her mind as she paced the halls of the refuge where she lived with Solas - though most people called him Fen’Harel these days, whether in admiration or fear or loathing. She, the so-called Herald of Fen’Harel, had a secret from the great man himself.

She was pregnant.

She’d figured it out for certain in the stillness of morning, in her private chambers (because she had to have her own chambers, of course, since it was a secret that she had a bondmate at all). Her monthly bleeding had been missing of course, but it had taken a visit with a spirit of healing to confirm the other changes in her body, and what they meant.

A child. A child for her and for Solas, the man who had always been her partner.

The man who was now leading a rebellion, more or less.

So the timing wasn’t impeccable, any more than it had been impeccable for them to reunite at Ghilan’nain’s party under the threat of death and political intrigue - so maybe it was just par for the course for them.

They hadn’t even thought it was possible for her to get pregnant by Solas, considering that she wasn’t an elf - but then again everything about her seemed impossible, and sometimes her luck in having Solas as a partner seemed impossible too - so maybe this was all to be expected in some strange way.

Once she was able to wrap her mind around it, Abby decided that she could keep this secret all to herself - just for now. She wouldn’t be able to keep it forever. But there was still so much danger around them, and so much to do. She would hold onto this impossible thing on her own.

That meant she had to keep going with her usual routines, even when she was bone tired and more than a little nauseated. So she walked around the fortress every day as she always did, checking for supplies and chatting with guards and making sure new refugees were situated with somewhere to sleep and food to eat, medical attention if they needed it. She’d already gained a reputation of her own as the Herald of Fen’Harel, and people often recognized her from sheer height alone. So in that sense it wasn’t terribly surprising when a young woman approached her one day on her rounds, a small bundle in her arms.

“Herald? Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Abby said, even if the title still filled her with equal parts unease and amusement. Unease because she’d been a secret-keeper her whole life and she’d never set out to be anyone of importance and amusement because - well, if she didn’t keep laughing at the situations she and Solas ended up in, she was going to go stark raving mad. “How can I help?”

“My name is Nuala,” she said, shifting the small bundle - and that was when Abby heard the little mewling sound it made, and realized abruptly that the woman was holding a well-swaddled baby.

That’s going to be me in a few months.

The thought didn’t help her queasiness.

Focus, Abby. She’s still talking.

“ - and we are just so grateful for the chance to start over somewhere new - to have a real life - and - ”

Nuala held out her infant.

Abby hesitated a moment and then extended her arms to hold the baby. She had no idea what the rest of Nuala’s speech had been but clearly this was what she wanted. She smiled and handed her child over at once, and Abby swallowed, looking down at the little person in her arms. How old were they? She realized abruptly that she didn’t know how to tell how old babies were - or what they needed - and that they were so much more squirmy than she expected, and heavier to boot. The baby she was holding had deep brown eyes and big soft cheeks, and dimples on either side of pursed pink lips.

“His name is Elaryl,” Nuala said, smiling and nervous.

“Hello Elaryl,” Abby said, instantly feeling a bit silly, because he probably couldn’t understand her anyway.

He wriggled in her grasp again, as much as he could in his tight, thick swaddling, and his frown deepened. It had a hood on it that was lined with fur, something far too warm for their current climate. She found herself absently rocking him, and then untucking the swaddling just a little so he could wiggle more and feel a little cooler in the warm air of the fortress. His frown smoothed out and he cooed again, looking up at her.

“You’re so good with him,” Nuala said. “He’s been so fussy since we came here. It’s so much warmer than home but we left in such a rush to escape the fighting that I didn’t have anything cooler for him to wear. He’s calmed right down with you though - do you have children of your own, Herald?”

I do. Right now. In my belly. And I can hardly believe it and I don’t think I’ve said those words out loud yet, and thank whatever gods there are that I can keep this little one happy because I have no idea what I’m going to be doing with my own -

“Someday,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing, and not too terrified. It wasn’t even a lie. Someday was coincidentally coming in seven or eight months or so. She handled Elaryl back to Nuala.

“Thank you, Herald,” Nuala said, beaming, curtseying, and Abby knew she didn’t deserve such deference but she would be damned if she didn’t live up to it anyway.

So she did double the rounds that day, even though she was bone-tired, more tired than she had ever been. Everything seemed to matter a little more now, like someone had dialed up the colors in the world. She’d always been part of Solas’s rebellion because it was right - and of course because it mattered to him, and they were nothing if they were not partners - but now she found herself thinking of the kind of world she wanted for their child, and what she could do to make it happen.

She didn’t see Solas until late in the day, which was normal. He’d been away from the fortress for most of it, meeting with contacts in various places, wearing his different guises. Many of them did not even know that it was the Dread Wolf they met with. He did not look very Dread to Abby when he slipped into her chambers. He just looked tired.

For a moment her heart leapt and she wanted to tell him, to make him a partner in truth to her secret - but then he did not even speak to her, and simply collapsed into bed, snaking his arms around her and pillowing his head on her chest, and sighed the sigh of a man with the world on his shoulders. He was so far from the boy she’d known now, and her heart ached to see all the ways this war was stripping him bare.

Abby held him tight, kissed the top of his head, and decided to keep her secret a little longer.

A little longer turned out to be two more months - but who was counting.

She’d managed to hide the extent of her exhaustion and sickness from Solas in that time. She was just starting to feel better, which she learned from the texts she read was entirely normal, and likely meant that she had passed the three month mark of her pregnancy. She was out of the worst danger - of losing the baby, at least. She was starting to feel more and more like her old self. That meant it was time to tell Solas. There were more reasons to be joyful than there were to be afraid.

Other than, of course, all of the death and injustice around them.

Which was why Abby simply could not sit idle when she heard of a remote village that was the target of an attack by Falon’Din’s forces. Not when there was time to evacuate them before they were taken as slaves to a man who would bathe the whole world in blood to soothe his ego. Solas himself was away from the fortress fighting against Andruil when the report arrived, so it was up to her to make the decision and carry it out.

She called up a small unit of soldiers used to such strikes and headed out through the eluvians, and of course counterspies had heard they were on their way and mobilized Falon’Din’s forces sooner than expected (of course). So of course it was not the quick and quiet in and out mission she’d assured herself it would be.

Instead there was fire and death.

And Abby was abruptly aware of just how much she was risking by being there in person.

Because even if she and Solas had managed to keep their bonding a secret, everyone knew she meant something to him, even if only as his foremost lieutenant, his Herald. His childhood friend. His special weapon.

So the Evanuris had studied her, and they knew what she feared most, and it was the fire.

So while the soldiers she’d brought with her to that remote place, perched high in a mountain range that divided the continent, spent their time shepherding terrified villagers out of the way, Abby spent her time fighting Falon’Din’s soldiers, all of whom were wreathed in flame and smoke - slinging gouts and spurts and balls of fire towards her. She nullified as much as she could - broke open their minds so she could hear their thoughts and predict their next moves - filled their minds with shouts and thoughts of horror - but she was tiring rapidly. Her abilities exhausted her far more than using magic seemed to exhaust most people. Solas had tried to explain to her the concept of mana, but either her pool was much smaller than most, or it drained much more quickly, because she could never seem to sense her limits the way he could his.

And now she was not just fighting for herself, or even for the innocent people her soldiers were currently saving. She was fighting for the child nestled in her belly.

What have I done? She thought when the first arrow struck her in the left shoulder, piercing her leather armor, taking the wind from her lungs.

She sent a wave of force towards the soldier who’d fired it, knocking him off of the nearby cliff.

I am fighting for the kind of world I want my child to grow up in, she reminded herself when the second arrow struck her, again in the left shoulder, numbing her left arm.

She was dizzy from diving in and out of the minds of her enemies and she staggered and that was all the opening the one closest to her needed to shoot flames straight at her, lighting up her right leg with pain. She screamed and the cold mountain air made her throat raw with it.

The woman who’d wounded her was closing in, magic sparking around her fingers again.

I am fighting for my child.

Abby summoned the last of her strength and choked the woman with the same invisible force she’d used to push one of her comrades off the cliff.

“Herald!” one of her own soldiers shouted. “The village is clear!”

Time to go.

Abby fled.

She barely remembered the journey back through the eluvians if she was perfectly honest. She just kept putting one foot in front of the other. The arrows were still in her left shoulder and she could smell her own charred flesh. Her stomach turned. But she looked ahead and saw all the people they’d saved and she knew she had to get them to the fortress. She’d brought them this far.

So she managed not to collapse entirely until every last one of them was inside.

But then she did collapse into a darkness so complete she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t death.

There were snatches of memory after that. Hushed voices, cool hands, the tingling rush of healing magic. Soft linen sheets. Her whole body was too heavy with exhaustion to process much of it. Time didn’t have its usual meaning but she knew it was passing - a day, maybe two, maybe three. And then, finally, there was something familiar.

Solas - his face filled with a concern so fierce it frightened even her. He seemed to fill the world with it. There was nothing but him and his blue eyes and his brow furrowed with worry.

“Where - ” she began, her throat dry, her head and vision swimming.

“You’re pregnant?” he finished.

Well, shit.

“Yes,” she said, weakly.

Solas dropped his face into both of his hands, scrubbing at his eyes before looking back at her, as if to assure himself that all of this was real. Abby felt herself come back more fully into her body. She ached but she wasn’t in any severe pain. She could feel lingering healing magic all around her and fought the urge to nullify it that her powers always gave her. She began to take in details of the room around them. It was Solas’s room. Not her own.

“Am I in your room?”

“I asked them to move you here when I returned home.”

“But - is that wise? Won’t people - ”

“The whole fortress was already filling with rumors when I arrived, considering that when the healers brought you to our very public hospital to remove the arrows and heal the burns on your leg, they discovered that your abdomen was unusually swollen and confirmed their suspicions aloud.”

Abby’s head wasn’t swimming anymore, but her heart was sinking.

“But - there’s nothing to say that it’s yours -”

“People drew their own conclusions the moment the news of your pregnancy began to spread. Perhaps we have not been as discreet as we thought, or perhaps it is inevitable that any closeness between a man and a woman is interpreted this way. In any case, the rumors spread like wildfire.”

“We can contain - ”

“Andruil herself told me, Abby. Threw it in my face on the battlefield.”

Abby sat up at once.

“What? How - ”

“We know there are spies in our midst, no matter what we do to root them out. Once the rumor spread through the castle, it was inevitable it would reach one of them and make its way back to our enemies. I am confident it was sent as an urgent dispatch, considering the leverage it would give any of the Evanuris to know that I have a bondmate and a child, to boot. It was likely only hours before Andruil knew, and I did not.”

“Shit.”

Abby tried to run through all the implications and scenarios and how they could be manipulated, what they could do to mitigate this, but her mind and her heart kept returning to Solas, to the way he was sitting at her bedside, tense and afraid and angry. Her mind played through the image again - Solas and Andruil locked in combat, and Andruil’s beautiful, sneering face when she said it. How many insults had she added? How had she phrased it to best shake and mock and destabilize him? Abby had no doubt that she had taken something that was meant to be beautiful and twisted it to the fullest, turning its beauty inside out.

“That is not how I wanted you to find out, vhenan,” she said. She started to reach for him and then hesitated, letting her hand fall back to the comforter. Solas did not reach for it.

“How could you keep this from me?” Solas said, voice rising in anger now.

“I hardly believed it at first!” Abby said, her own anger rising in her. “You and I both agreed that it was nearly impossible considering that you’re an elf and I’m - whatever it is that I am! And it’s always risky early on and you already had so much on your plate so - I wanted to give you one less thing to worry about. I’d just crossed three months when I went on that mission. I was literally going to tell you when you returned from your mission against Andruil. I was just sidetracked by a couple of arrows to the shoulder.”

Solas sighed, looked away from her, shook his head. The window in his room was open. A breeze came through, making Abby’s skin prickle. She brought both of her hands to her belly. It was barely rounding out, but it was there now. Unmistakable.

“I cannot believe you risked yourself so, knowing what you knew,” Solas said finally, quietly. “I cannot - vhenan, if I had lost you both -”

Abby reached for him again. This time, Solas took her hand in both of his own and pressed it hard. The mask of his anger fell away entirely, and only fear and love were left in its wake. He leaned towards her, pressed his forehead to hers - let go of her hand with one of his and cupped the back of her head and held her there. Abby closed her eyes and lost herself in the closeness of him. They each breathed deep. The world didn’t seem so complicated in that moment. There was only them.

“You should go away from here,” Solas murmured. “To your parents. Until the baby is born. I fear I cannot protect you now.”

“No,” Abby said, barely letting him finish. “When you and I bonded, I swore to stay by your side regardless of the danger, and I stand by that.”

Solas let out a hollow laugh. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

“I am terribly predictable.”

His laugh was more genuine that time. They drew back so they could see each other. Abby took in the face of the man she loved - her best friend - basking in how lucky she was to have him to share all her secrets with.

So it wasn’t exactly a secret that Abby was pregnant anymore - but they could deal with that. And they did. They spread conflicting information through their own spies in the ranks of the Evanuris - that it had been a lie, that she’d lost the baby, that it was someone else’s - until the water was muddied enough. That bought them time. In that time, they increased security at the fortress - more magic wards, more spirit guardians who reacted poorly to anyone who didn’t know the password, which was always shifting. They doubled the efforts to root out spies who did slip in.

Of course, in that time, Abby’s belly grew. She was a tall woman - almost absurdly so - which meant she had plenty of time before she was big enough to be truly noticeable, but she still got there. And, truth be told, it was hard for Solas to keep up the pretense that it wasn’t his. He wanted to be near her, to check on her, to touch and hold her, like some primal instinct had been awoken within him. It was both annoying and endearing. He was also even more zealous - something she would have thought impossible before all of this - about his need to take down the Evanuris and their empire of blood and death and lies. She had to remind him to sleep sometimes.

But in the midst of all of that, she found time - like when she was lying in bed and she could feel the little one rolling and wriggling and kicking within her - to feel incandescently lucky. She had a bondmate who loved her and a child she never thought possible on the way.

She found time - like when she spoke to her parents via sending crystal - to feel properly terrified. She had no memory of her own mother, and her parents reminded her that she’d been a very big baby for her age, and now she was convinced that she had killed her mother in the birthing bed.

She found time - like when she looked at the elves all around her - to worry that her own child would feel as alone and alien as she had all her life.

Eventually, as it often did, time started to get away from them. Abby got too big and too tired to continue attending to all of her duties. She and Solas both became abruptly aware that this was no theoretical child, but a child who would be here very, very soon.

Abby started getting the false contractions near that ninth month, so long after that day with Nuala and her son Elaryl. Elaryl was walking now, chattering too. Soon Abby would be the one with a baby in her arms. Each false contraction sent her into a tizzy of worry that that time was almost on her. Solas too. It went on for two weeks like that - the two of them tense and nervous, like an attack was imminent.

Of course, when labor itself did begin, it might as well have been an attack.

Abby wasn’t sure there were words for that kind of pain in any language. How endless it felt. How it yanked you out of your own body and mind and into some other world where pain was all you knew, all that existed.

It went on for hours, and hours, and hours.

The midwives were exhausted, perplexed, muttering about the size of the baby, about how dangerous it was for the birth to go on this long, about infection and strangling umbilical cords, and Solas was white as death, gripping her hand almost as hard as she gripped his.

“It is fine. Everything is fine,” he kept saying, over and over again, though to himself or to her she wasn’t sure. Either way Abby didn’t believe him, either way the pain just went on and on and on and on and on -

Until, suddenly, he was there.

Her son, huge and wailing and pressed against her chest.

And all the pain was gone, so fast it made her doubt it had ever existed. That anything had ever existed other than the new little person cuddled against her.

She heard Solas take a shuddering breath at her side.

Their son - the secret they’d shared - was here. Breath and bone and beautiful as dawn.

Abby’s sense of wonder only grew as the minutes passed - as he ate and then got cleaned up and returned to her, warm and swaddled and sleeping now.

To think - all those childhood adventures - the stupid shit they’d done - and then their adult lives - the way they’d found each other, the days and nights and battles and embraces they’d shared since then - it had all led to this. To him.

Fen’revas.

“I do not even know what to say,” Solas murmured when it was just the two of them, sitting together in their bed, holding Fen’revas, studying him.

“That may be a first,” Abby said.

Solas chuckled, kissed her forehead. Fen’revas was soft and warm in Abby’s lap. She was soul-tired - it had been more than a day since her labor started, and Fen’revas was not small, as the midwives had predicted - but she couldn’t imagine sleeping. Not when he was here, and his little chest was rising and falling, and each breath was a miracle.

“I have to make this work,” Solas said finally, quietly. “This war - what we’re fighting for - I have to make everything right for my son.”

Abby leaned into Solas, hoping the wordless action would remind him that he did not carry that burden alone.

They did have to shift him to his bassinette eventually so they themselves could sleep. After she’d done so, Abby reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out the crystal necklace she’d had as long as she could remember. Her parents had found it tucked into her swaddling clothes. It was the only connection she had to birth parents she’d never known - to a life she’d never known.

Now it was a connection between her and her son. The most precious secret she had ever shared with another person: you are not alone.

Abby slept, and dreamed of all the precious secrets that were to come.

#beach does commissions #beach writes #abby grace x solas #im-calling-the-lord #dragon age fanfic #arlathan #pre-inquisition #ahhh these two are such a delight to write

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princess-of-luxure · 5 years ago

Text

with an empty glass and a broken heart

You could've never known that the man you met at the coffee shop on a rainy day would become your future fiance, and the father of your child. You also could've never known he'd be dragged away from you.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader Characters: Dante (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry) Content Warnings: Depression, Canon-Typical Major Character Death

Written for day 6 of Whumptober, prompt was 'Dragged Away.' I was up all night writing this and I feel it lost quality at the end... might just be me though. Either way, I'm pretty satisfied with it!

Fic under read more.

The wind roared outside the window of your quaint little tea shop, torrential rain flooding the streets in the worst storm your town had seen in months. You weren’t exactly sure why the shop was open under these conditions, but it was whatever. It saved you from having to deal with your obnoxious sister and her hellspawn; you didn’t even hate kids, they were really just that bad and she did nothing to keep them in check. You wouldn’t be surprised to find there was a post about her and her brats on r/EntitledParents.

You were only slightly disassociating as you sat in one of the booths, absently nursing a mug of your drink of choice. You wouldn’t think it at first, but being alone in the shop was actually quite comforting. There was no one to bother you, the barista was a lot happier and pleasant to converse with when she wasn’t constantly being hounded by rude customers and sleazy guys, and it was just generally a good atmosphere to chill out in.

“I was not expecting to see someone else here.” You nearly jumped out of your skin as you heard an unfamiliar voice speak. The stranger that now sat across the booth from you was… imposing, to say the least. If the striking white hair slicked back out of intense blue eyes didn’t leave an impression on you, his height and almost-regal attire certainly did, and… was that a katana sheathed at his hip?

You must’ve been staring for far too long, because after a few moments, the stranger tilted his head. “My apologies. I should have asked first. I can take my leave, if you wish it.”

“Wh—no!” You were scrambling over yourself now to correct the error of your silence, though it seemed you kept tripping over your tongue. “No, no, no, it’s okay. You’re just—uh—God—”

“Are you certain?” the (admittedly quite handsome, dammit) stranger asked, his brows creasing. “My presence seems to have caused you something of a fluster.”

“You’re pretty!” you blurted out, mouth moving without permission from your brain. In an attempt to rectify the awkward situation, you quickly began rambling, talking faster than you could think. “And I wasn’t expecting any company because it’s so rainy and this shop is kind of out of the way anyway and I was kind of zoning out when you sat down and you look kind of like an anime character—not that that’s a bad thing, it was just startling and I’m really sorry—”

The stranger held up a hand, and you cut yourself off, waiting with bated breath for what you were sure were going to be some very displeased words. What you weren’t expecting was his slow scrutiny of you, his gaze seeming to pierce right through to your soul as he took in every detail of your being. When he finally spoke, his tone was completely even, giving away nothing. “What’s your name?”

You introduced yourself, managing not to stutter too much even as you wrung your hands nervously. How could one man be so guarded and emotionally reserved? Not knowing for sure that he hated you for your weird, out-of-the-blue compliment and strange spiel where you’d compared him to an anime character was somehow more soul-crushing than any sort of definitive confirmation.

He repeated your name back to you slowly, as though testing how it felt upon his tongue, and you gave a small, timid response. “A fine name,” he complimented, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks immediately. God damn it, god damn it. “You may call me Vergil.”

“Vergil,” you echoed, still shaken up. You sipped at your drink to give yourself an excuse to avoid eye contact. “That’s… That’s a nice name too.”

“Thank you.” The silence that ensued had to be the most awkward of your whole entire life, yet somehow it didn’t seem to bother Vergil, who continued to gaze at you with a slightly curious look. You chewed on your lip, fidgeted with your hands, waiting desperately for him to break the silence; eventually, you could take it no longer.

“Is… there something wrong?” you asked hesitantly. Vergil blinked, seemingly brought out of his thoughts by your question.

“Nothing is amiss,” he reassured you, and it would’ve soothed your anxiety if he wasn’t so damn intimidating just by nature. “I was merely deep in thought.”

You wondered if it was okay to ask what he had been thinking about, or if he would bite your head off for daring to ask such a foolish question. Eventually, the freshly dawning silence that threatened to be just as awkward as the last made your decision for you. “About what?” It was such a casual delivery, and you berated yourself for it. You were basically in the presence of a god, and all you could come up with was that? Foolishness!

“Most people do not dare to try engage in casual conversation with me,” Vergil explained, his gaze still sweeping over you, and yeah, you could see why. Not that you minded that this freaking Adonis had chosen to interact with you, but there was no denying that his aura left a bone-rattling effect on people. “Certainly none have tried to compare me to an… anime character.”

The way he spoke those words, not quite distasteful but bordering on amused, sent you sinking into the plush cushions of the booth. You were never going to live that down, were you? “Sorry about that.”

“Your words did not affect me in any negative way, though the apology is appreciated nevertheless.” Well, that much was a relief, though it made you wonder what the hell Vergil must be thinking of you then. “If I may trouble you with a query, do you spend a lot of time in this shop?”

It was your turn to blink, the sudden question taking a moment to process. Why would he want to know that? “Uh, yeah, I guess so. It’s sort of my main hangout. I come here to get away from the hell that is my family life.”

To your surprise, your words drew a chuckle from Vergil, which for him manifested as a low rumbling sound. “I can understand that desire.” He was quiet for several seconds more, and just as you were about to fear that you were going to lapse into another awkward silence, he suddenly spoke again. “Forgive me if this is intrusive, but would you care if I said hello to you, should we happen to meet again?”

Your heart leaped into your throat and you quickly took a long draught of your drink to hide your sudden fluster. “U-Uh, I don’t see a problem with it.”

The faintest ghost of a smile touched Vergil’s lips, somehow making him more handsome than he already was and sending your stomach topsy-turvy. “Excellent.”

~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~

A year later saw you sitting at that very same booth once again, shielding from the pouring rain outside. However, a lot had changed in that time. It wouldn’t be obvious to the casual onlooker, but it certainly was to you; the sapphire-studded band glinting on your ring finger was proof enough of that. You weren’t married yet, but come next fall, that would’ve changed. You couldn’t wait for the big day, practically chomping at the bit to be able to call Vergil your husband.

This was all without even considering the news you had to tell Vergil on your date today. Your fingers glided over your stomach; there was no obvious signs of your pregnancy yet, but as of yesterday, it had been confirmed. You hadn’t thought much of the cravings when they first showed up, but then the morning sickness had arrived, and not long after you noticed your period was late. It had been at that point you’d thought to take a test, and the rest was history.

Nothing could spoil your good mood today. You didn’t even flinch as the barista (you still hadn’t learned her name!) approached you, hands fidgeting and refusing to look you in the eyes. “Um…”

You weren’t sure why she was so anxious, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to be particularly bothered. “Yes?”

“Vergil, he…” The barista took a deep breath, dragging her gaze up to your face. “He said he wouldn’t be coming today.”

Your whole world screeched to a stop. “What?”

“He said something really important came up, a-and that he’d be back as soon as he can.” The barista didn’t linger long after delivering this earth-shattering revelation, quickly scurrying back to the counter. You, meanwhile, were left in a state of shock and misery.

Oh well, it didn’t really matter too much. Vergil’s little disappearing acts were nothing new. You could just tell him tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~

Six years later, and Vergil still hadn’t returned to you. You were in an extremely fragile state both physically and mentally when you had finally given birth, and though you had tried desperately to keep your son, Nero, it became quickly clear that you could barely take care of yourself, let alone an infant, so with a heavy heart, you had surrendered him to an orphanage in Fortuna.

It was a rainy, stormy night when you finally learned of Vergil’s fate. The fire was roaring away and you were huddled up underneath several blankets when you heard the knock on the door.

You were loathe to get up, but you did so anyway, wrapping your blankets around you like capes as you slowly trudged to the door. When you opened it, you were shocked to see… Vergil? No, not Vergil, his hair was down, and he wore red instead of blue. That meant this had to be…

“Dante?”

Dante gave you a sheepish smile. “Yep, that’s the name, don’t wear it out.” You stared at him blankly, and when he realized you weren’t going to respond to his joke, he coughed awkwardly. “Hey, you’re my brother Vergil’s partner, right?”

You expelled a long sigh. “I was. He disappeared six years ago. I haven’t been able to find him.”

Dante rubbed the back of his neck, and you got a very bad feeling from the fact he refused to look you in the eyes. “Yeaaaah, actually, I came to talk to you about that…”

That caught your attention, and you tilted your head, feeling the faintest stirring of hope for the first time in six years. It wasn’t much, though. “Go on.”

“Well uh, you see… Vergil kinda…” Dante seemed to be struggling to get the words out, and eventually he just heaved a heavy sigh. “Aw hell, nothing to do but just say it. When he disappeared, it was because he was enslaved by the demon emperor that killed our mom, Mundus.”

A pause.

“Oh.” It was the only response you could muster, depression weighing on you like a pile of bricks and sucking all the emotions out of you.

“And, uh… I kinda fought him, not knowing it was him,” Dante continued, words getting more and more rushed as he went on, and you already didn’t like where this was going. “And I, uh, I kinda had to... kill him.”

Immediately, red hot rage boiled your blood, even if you knew it was irrational. Dante hadn’t known, after all; but he had still killed the one you loved more than anyone else. “Get out.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “Hey, wait, I—”

You slammed the door shut, leaning against it to dissuade the younger son of Sparda from any attempts to reach out to you again. Once you were certain he was gone, you fell to your knees, and you cried. You cried until your eyes were dry and your heart was empty.

Everything you’d loved was gone, your son taken from you by your own depression and your lover by his worst enemy and twin brother.

You couldn’t feel anything but numb.

#whumptober2019 #no.6 #dragged away #vergil x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #mal writes #with an empty glass and a broken heart

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leeontheneonx3 · 5 years ago

Text

Big Brother

This is a short oneshot for @lumilasi ‘s 20k Celebration Contest! I hope you like it, buddy! This is based off of her fanfiction “Crossroads” (which you should totally read, it’s amazing). Also, thank you to @cobythinks for beta reading!

Tomura didn’t consider himself a worrier. Sure, he could admit he was dramatic sometimes, but he wasn’t an anxious, worrying mess like his greenbean of a little brother.

Except when it came to that aforementioned little brother.

And that specific problem child not answering his damn phone.

He glared down at the device when his only answer was Izuku’s voicemail. Again. What the hell? Izuku always answered. Unless he was in trouble. Which was more likely than it should be for a sixteen year old.

Well, shit. His big brother senses - which he hated having acquired over time - were going off like crazy now.

Calm down. Relax.

Where could Izuku be? School hours had long since passed. He should be at the dorms at this time, right? Maybe he was hanging out with his hero hopeful buddies? But, even if that was the case, Tomura had called over three times. Izuku would never just ignore him.

Okay, fine, he was fucking worried. Happy now?

The pale figure groaned, rubbing his temples in irritation. He couldn’t just freak out and go check on the kid… Well, he could, but that didn’t mean he would.

“H-hi, this is Izuku Midoriya, sorry I’m unavailable at the moment-”

“Fuck it.” Tomura hung up with a scowl, shoving his phone in his pocket and walking farther down the alley, muttering as the shadows swallowed him up. “I swear, if I have to save your ass again…”

~~~~~

The room was dark when he stepped out of the shadows. He knew the other U.A. students were gathered in the common room, but not Izuku. Red eyes glanced around the All Might themed room, locating the lump on the bed. He was asleep? Seriously? Tomura scowled, quietly stepping closer. Izuku wasn’t one to go to sleep so early, though… That was strange.

Did something happen today? Just how exhausted-

A small whine stopped Tomura in his tracks.

Was… was Izuku crying? He shook his head, because that… that sounded different than his brother’s normal crying. Tomura stepped closer, hesitating as more whimpers and soft cries filled the room.

Why does it sound like…?

He tore the blanket off the bed, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

There was a kid. A very small child in Izuku’s bed. A fucking baby.

“What the hell…” Tomura stumbled back a bit in shock, panic rising in his chest. Large, teary green eyes cracked open to stare at him, tear tracks shining against small freckles on the baby’s face. “...Izuku…?!”

No way. No fucking way. How…? What the fuck?! What happened?!

Tomura sucked in a deep breath, staring at the child. Green doe eyes, starry freckles, little tufts of green curls… the pale figure stepped forward again and carefully pressed a finger to the baby's forehead, closing his eyes.

Memories filtered through Tomura's vision. Holy shit… It really was Izuku. Tomura concentrated harder, on a mission to find out what the hell had caused this. Obviously a quirk, but when? How? Was it permanent?

After a few moments, his eyes snapped back open. A random kid. A random toddler who had ran into Izuku while he'd been out today was the cause of this mess.

"You gotta be kidding me." Tomura sighed, taking his finger back, only for baby Izuku to grasp weakly onto sleeve. Green stared into red, silence the only sound between them, before Izuku let out a little squeal, reaching out towards him.

Tomura tried so hard not to smile but goddammit, that was adorable, and it had already been established that he was weak for his little brother. He sighed, very cautiously picking up the baby, glad he'd been wearing his gloves. Tomura held the squirming, babbling child in the air, eyes narrowed. Izuku was wrapped up in one of his tee shirts, which was significantly too large for his body now, still giggling and reaching for him.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Tomura groaned, awkwardly holding the child as he paced the room. He couldn't take him to Sako's bar because the school would freak out again - not to mention none of them knew how to take care of a freaking infant. Well, maybe Dabi, but still. The only other option was pretty obvious.

Tomura frowned. Hopefully he wouldn't give the poor woman a heart attack.

~~~~~

Inko was relaxing on her couch, sipping her tea as she watched a new show she'd taken a liking to, when a figure rushed out of the shadows, startling her. She jumped to her feet, nearly dropping her cup, eyes wide.

"Who-"

"Relax, it's just me."

Inko blinked. Tomura stood in front of her, a nervous look in his eyes, and… was that a bundle in his arms?

"What…" she was cut off by a small squeal. Her eyes widened. She knew those squeals. She walked over to the young man, peeking into his arms. Her breath caught in her throat. "Izuku?!"

"Yeah." Tomura sighed. "Seems like he got affected by some random kid's quirk when he was out today…" Inko’s eyes widened further. “I-I honestly have no idea if it’s permanent or not, and now that I think about it, taking him from the school without telling anyone was probably a shitty idea, but I was just- he’s a freaking baby now and- and, I don’t know…”

Inko stared, gently taking her son from the older boy's arms. She chose to ignore how Tomura hesitated to hand Izuku over.

"I just… you seemed like the best option." Tomura finished softly, crossing his arms. He actually seemed scared - something you wouldn’t expect a villain overload to feel. Inko had to remind herself that Tomura was still just a boy.

“Thank you for bringing him to me. I do have the experience, so that… was a smart decision on your part.” she said, adjusting her now infant son in her arms. Identical green eyes met, and Izuku giggled. “We should inform the school, though. I’ll call them after I get this little guy more comfortable.”

The woman started heading down the hall, Tomura surprisingly trailing after her. She glanced at the young man, who was most definitely avoiding eye contact as he stared at all the photos on the wall with a blank look.

Inko took a deep breath, a small smile on her face. She was glad that she and Tomura’s relationship with one another had somewhat improved since their first meeting.

~~~~~

Tomura stared at the green bean curled up, snoozing on his chest. Izuku was now in a fresh diaper and a dark blue onesie (thank god Inko had things available from the times she babysat for the neighbors. The baby boy had also been fed, and had practically passed out on top of Tomura. It was his fault, though. He’d made the impulsive decision to stay the night at the Midoriya household - curse his brotherly nature, it was such a pain in the ass sometimes.

Was he complaining, though? Not really. This… it was strange, obviously. His little brother was just so… so little. He was honestly kind of scared he’d hurt the baby Izuku, but logically knew he was being as careful as possible. Izuku wasn’t easily breakable, anyway - despite how many times the brat has broken his bones.

Red eyes stared at the chubby freckled face of his brother. He couldn’t help but wonder… would he have been helping Inko care for this kid if he had been an actual part of their lives years ago? Would he have held and cuddled Izuku just like this? Would they have been able to play together, and bond, and laugh and just - just love each other like normal siblings got to?

Tomura sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t want to think about it. A gloved hand ever so gently brushed back those crazy green curls.

Tomura would just enjoy the chance he was given now.

~~~~~

The quirk had lasted three whole days.

What an experience.

Astonishingly, Izuku barely cried as an infant. His only response to anything appeared to just be a giggle. He was so different than his teen self that Tomura had come to be an expert on.

Those three days, Tomura had stayed over at the Midoriya house. He just… couldn’t get himself to leave. And during that time Tomura may or may not have taken way too many pictures of an adorable baby Izuku.

Fuck you, don’t judge him. His brother was just that precious, what could he say?

That early weekend morning, red eyes blinked open, narrowing in confusion. There was a much heavier weight on his chest than before he fell asleep last night. Tomura groaned, looking down and blinking in shock.

The quirk had definitely worn off. Izuku was still asleep, but he was thankfully his normal age. For some reason, he was also still clothed in a onesie; only it was the teen’s size now. God, what a weird few days.

Tomura snorted softly, fondly ruffling green curls as he dozed back off.

At least he’d gotten to feel somewhat normal in the strange ‘Baby Izuku Routine’.

~~~~~

“You took a picture of me… IN A ONESIE?!”

“Hell yeah. And guess what a certain candy cane boy is about to receive as a good morning message-”

“DON’T YOU DARE!”

#20kCelebrationContest #writing contest #crossroads fanfic oneshot #my writing #baby izu and big bro tomu

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