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love-and-monsters · 3 years

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Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

��Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

#exophilia #fae #faerie #fae boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #Fae lover

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

Are You Here to Stop Me?--Chapter 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [First post in Peony to Lotus Verse]

[Ao3 Series]

[I had the hardest time shaking this man and making plot fall out, he was wholly uncooperative.]

This was all such fucking disaster.

A-jie was sick, the Jiang were once again yanked into a political fiasco that they had to pay for with their own reputation, there was a fierce corpse puppet in his home--a home that, apparently, had already been invaded by the Jin Clan demanding answers to said political fiasco while its master wasn’t even there. In a few days time, it would be invaded again by strange Wens he didn’t know or want.

If his mother were alive, she would kill him. He would probably deserve it. He didn’t know what his father would think. He would probably be disappointed--either that he didn’t think of it in the first place or for his resentment.

He stood frozen by the door, anxiously watching Wen Qing treat a barely conscious A-jie. It wasn't like he had never seen his sister feverish and weak before, but it scared him the same every single time. To know that she was in pain and he couldn’t do anything about it. To know that this could be the illness that would take her from him. That this could be the last time that….He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and folded his arms tight across his chest to keep them from fidgeting at his sides.

Jin Guangyao seemed to think everything was under control--at least, that’s what he had said. It would have been far more comforting if it hadn’t been in such a distant voice while being unable to look away from A-jie. Clutching her hand in a white knuckled grip. Expression all strained and pale with badly concealed terror.

This is your plan! Jiang Cheng wanted to scream as he clenched his aching fists. I did this because you said it would work! You’re the one that’s supposed to know what you’re doing!

What he wouldn’t give to actually know what the hell he was doing. Being an adult couldn’t just be this, right? Just guessing and grasping around in the dark, tripping like you’re wearing your father’s too big robes? Every other person he met seemed to be controlled and mature, while he was barely treading water--hell, even Wei Wuxian did the things he did with confidence. It had to get better at some point, because, right now, this mess was embarrassing--enraging. But most of all, it was terrifying.

What the hell should he do? What was right?

A-jie kept breathlessly trying to tell them all that she was alright, that they should rest and continue preparing. But she could barely keep her eyes open. Her head lolled around like a floppy doll. Every once in a while, she was wracked with violent, hacking coughs that shook her and left her gasping.

When she whispered Jiang Cheng’s name and raised a trembling hand as Wen Qing stepped away to prepare something, he practically dove to her side, his knees slamming painfully into the floor in his haste. Clasping her hand in both of his, he found it freezing, so he chafed it gently between his palms. “A-jie?”

“You...must be...so tired.” She smiled weakly, eyes slurring to the Wen child who had fallen asleep on the other pillow, leaving grubby little smudges all over the bedding. “All of you. I’m fine. Go. Sleep.” Even this short speech left her breathless, then coughing, wet and harsh. She trembled as Jin Guangyao helped her sit up and held her close, stroking her back.

Jiang Cheng hated everything about this. He was going to kill Wei Wuxian.

She wasn’t wrong, though. His limbs felt like practice weights, his overworked core throbbed like a pulled muscle within him. (His core? Wei Wuxian’s core? The core? This reminder burrowed in him like a barbed arrow every time he remembered again, further and further since the night he had learned it. Regret and anger and nausea, swimming and hot, every day, every fucking day. A stranger inside himself, but not. Another thing he was helpless to.)

When A-Jie finally dropped into unconsciousness not long after, Wen Qing announced that under no circumstances should she be allowed to exert herself for the next few days, until she could sit up on her own and breathe without wheezing. “The fluid in her lungs has worsened,” she told the two of them, voice still hoarse. “But since I have access to the supplies here, her fever should hopefully break sometime tonight. She shouldn’t be in any immediate danger but she will have to take her medicine on a strict schedule.”

“She will,” Jin Guangyao agreed immediately, thumb smoothing repeatedly over the back of A-jie’s limp hand. “Just tell me when and I’ll do it.”

When Jiang Cheng finally stood to leave, just about every muscle from the base of his skull to the tendons at his heels screamed and gods, he wanted a bath and sleep and for this to not be happening. Wen Qing collected the still sleeping boy, and Jin Guangyao rose, seeing them all out into the hall before bowing, sharp and deep. “Thank you, Wen-guniang.”

Damn. Jiang Cheng hastily followed suit and bowed. You tactless asshole. She watched them both with weary eyes, expression as closed as it had been for days, but she inclined her head to accept. “Come get me immediately if anything changes.”

Straightening, Jin Guangyao nodded, his habitual smile nowhere to be seen, drained and serious. “I will. I’m going to stay up to watch her.”

Her eyes narrowed warily. But she only nodded.

The entire trip leading her through Lotus Pier to her prepared room was silent.

Jiang Cheng knew he should say something. He wanted to say something--to thank her more personally for A-jie’s care or tell her that she would be safe here, that when he made a promise, he kept it (unlike some people.) Maybe reassure her that this wasn’t a ploy by him to corner her, that this was honestly a waking nightmare he kept wishing he would wake up from.

That this wasn’t how he had imagined marrying her. As a last resort. As a trap.

Instead, he was silent. Nothing he had to say would come out right and he would either sound like an ass or an idiot. Or both.

She was just as quiet, anyway, drifting behind him like some sort of mourning wraith, carrying the limp child. The only sounds were their footsteps, distant murmurs, and the frogs droning from their intermittent little ponds and from the lake beyond. Chill from the young evening settled into their still damp, days old clothes. The clean, living scent of the water was comforting, so at least there was that.

He wondered if it just smelled like mud to her.

When they came to the room, he saw that the lanterns and the incense burner were already lit, and a while ago, judging by how thickly the scent of jasmine and musk lay over everything. It was one of the nicest guest suites, with a wide bed, wispy purple wall hangings, and intricate lotus blossoms crawling up in carvings on the screens. It occurred to him suddenly that it might seem horribly insensitive to remind her exactly where she was and why. Tacky. He ground his teeth.

Wen Qing staggered right by him into the room without a glance, practically collapsing across the bed to lay the boy down. Angry? Disgusted? Done with him, whichever it was. But Jiang Cheng stayed by the door, fingers worrying at the thick fabric of his robe, running the edge of his nail along the weave as she tucked the blanket up to the boy’s chin. The need to say something--anything--was becoming too much to bear. “I’m sorry it isn’t very big.”

Her voice was dull and she didn’t even turn around. “It’s fine, Jiang-zongzhu.”

Fuck.

“You don’t have to...you can call me Jiang Wanyin,” he said, because he was apparently very stupid. The slow, disbelieving look she gave him over her shoulder was well deserved. “You don’t have to,” he added, because he apparently was not done being stupid. I mean, you’ve literally cut me open before, so I figured….

“...Alright.”

Jiang Cheng wanted to melt into the floor. Or possibly die. His mouth worked around his grimace of self disgust and he managed, “I’ll have the servants send in a bath.”

She sagged back on her heels beside the bed, still looking over at him. “Where is A-Ning?”

Oh. Right. “Probably….” Actually, he had no idea where Wei Wuxian had taken him. His room? The idea of that puppet leaking black resentful energy and lying on his childhood bed seemed ridiculous. “With Wei Wuxian,” he finished, lamely. “I’ll find out.”

Her gaze transferred to the floor, eyes unseeing and darkened by smudges of dirt and exhaustion. She was still quite pretty, but it was a gaunt, unkempt sort of beauty. The silence stretched, uncomfortable. He should have let a servant show her to the room. She was waiting for him to leave, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly, just as he turned around to simply leave, saving them both the agony. “For doing this.”

His jaw tightened and he kept his eyes locked on the light wood of the column right outside her door. Instead of anything helpful or comforting, what came out was a low, unplanned, “Why didn’t you come to me.” She had the comb. She had to. It had been gone when he came back to check and he had thought...hoped….

Skin on fabric. She was probably looking at him, and so kept his shoulders rigid, back straight.

“I didn’t know if you would help.” Her voice was quiet, not angry or accusatory. But his fists clenched as heat flooded his face, his head throbbing. ‘You're untrustworthy and selfish and immature. Why the hell would I trust you?’

He was fucking this up. Again. Useless.

Jiang Cheng refused to dig himself a deeper hole. About 10 minutes too late. Without a word, he stopped darkening her door. Instead of going to his room and ordering a bath like he should have, he looked for Wei Wuxian, blood pulsing in his ears. Stalking through the halls, he scattered several anxious servants in his wake like ripples behind him.

When he found him, he actually was in his room, though the puppet was on an extra mattress on the floor instead of on the bed like Jiang Cheng had imagined. The room reeked of resentful energy--sour, burning, metallic. Old bile and blood and worse. Wei Wuxian himself was hunched over it with a brush and seemed to be adding to the fluttering layer of talismans that already festooned the prone form. It even took a minute for him to realize Jiang Cheng was in the doorway, but when he did, he leapt to his feet, haggard face anxious. “Shijie?”

“...Sleeping.”

“What did Wen Qing say? Will she be alright?”

“No thanks to you.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged and he blew out a breath. Then, he perked up, coming over to gently shake Jiang Cheng by the shoulders with a reproachful smile. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, lead with that next time, will you? You appear at my door looking like you’re about to avenge someone, what am I supposed to think?”

Smacking Wei Wuxian’s hands off his shoulders didn’t do anything to change his attitude. He just grimaced playfully and said, “Ow, careful! Now be nice, we’ll all be in trouble if you damage these hands,” while wiggling his fingers. It made the sharp rage in Jiang Cheng’s chest flare. It made him want to punch his stupid face.

“This is your fault.”

At this point, it was like they pulled out a script book for some overdone play, a rulebook outlining the steps to their fight. The brush off. Wei Wuxian looked past him, craning his head to peer out the door. “Where’s Wen Qing and A-Yuan? I wanted to tell her how Wen Ning is doing.”

The jab. “Are you even listening to me?”

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes at him, shrugging his shoulders as if letting the words just slide off of him with a stretch of his arms. The dismissal. “Ah, you’re always scolding me, so what’s the point in listening to you when you’re just saying the same things you have been for days? I’ll pay attention when you say something new. You’re so predictable.”

The snap; Jiang Cheng snarled, “How’s this, then? It’s your fault that A-jie is so sick.” He jabbed Wei Wuxian in the chest with his finger, knocking him back a step, pursuing. “It’s your fault if the Jin decide to wipe us all out again.” Another jab, another step. The insouciant air slid from Wei Wuxian’s face--instead, it was tight, the beginning of regret.

“Listen--”

“This is your fault and you’re not even sorry.”

A deep breath. “Jiang Cheng--”

He needed him mad. He needed him to stop moving away. “You weren’t thinking of anyone but yourself, like you always do. You’re making me take in and marry the people who killed my parents to protect you.” He could see Wei Wuxian bristle--because he knew it wasn’t quite true, it wasn’t really fair but Jiang Cheng didn’t care.

“What are you even saying? They’ve both saved us a hundred times over! These people are innocent, they were being brutalized, I had no choice--!”

“You always have a choice!” Jiang Cheng was shouting, now. “You just choose the one that causes the biggest scene! First you embarrass me in front of all the other Clan Leaders, then you kill Jin disciples and steal their prisoners--!”

“What right did they have to treat them that way? What crime did they commit?! I’m supposed to just leave them?!”

His outrage just fed the fury burning through Jiang Cheng, roaring in his ears, and he wanted to take his brother by the throat and shake him. He wanted him to be just as hurt and terrified as he was. He wanted him to stop acting so fucking noble, like it meant anything anymore after everything they had been through. His lungs burned from the resentful energy hanging in the air. Zidian sparked once, sizzling. “You always need to be the center of attention. Well congratulations, everyone’s looking at us, now! Aren’t you such a fucking hero? Isn’t it nice to have a shield that will rise up against every stupid thing you decide to do? When will it be enough?”

Wei Wuxian’s swallowed hard, jaw tight, eyes shining. “Do you think I wanted this?” He asked quietly, and Jiang Cheng had to bark a laugh that tasted bitter.

“No. I don’t think you thought at all. You just did whatever you wanted and expected the Jiang Clan to clean up after you.”

At this, Wei Wuxian looked away at the wall, shoulders bunched up, hands in fists at his side. “I wasn't...” he said tightly. “I was going to go. To take them--”

“Where?”

“I don’t know!” He snapped. “Somewhere I could keep them safe! I thought...maybe the Burial Mounds.”

A chill flooded through Jiang Cheng and he stared. “Are you insane? That hellhole?”

Wei Wuxian was still looking at the wall, though he swallowed again. “I could...control the resentful energy. Make it safe.” He clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

The thought alone had him reeling. Wei Wuxian really had been going to do it. He really would have left, after everything. After promising to rebuild Lotus Pier with him, to support him. After Jiang Cheng had fought so hard to find him the 3 months when he had been missing. After Jiang Cheng had stood by him when the war ended and everyone had started whispering about sinister ulterior motives--did Wei Wuxian have no concept of how this looked? “And do what? Establish your own Sect? Build your own empire? Should I call you Wei-zongzhu from now on?”

Wei Wuxian recoiled, face screwed up in disbelief as he finally faced him again. “No! What? No! Jiang Cheng, don’t be an idiot. I was going...I was going to take care of it myself. I wasn’t going to ask or involve you. I didn’t--I was going to handle it.”

That rage condensed and dropped sourly into his gut like sick. That was worse. That was so much worse. ‘I didn’t know if you would help.’ He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted that cleansing fury back. “Nice fucking job.”

Wei Wuxian vented a short, mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

“You don’t get to tell me to shut up.”

“I just d--” Wei Wuxian stopped himself, jaw working. When he spoke again, it was with careful containment. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“What a stupid thing to say, of course I did,” Jiang Cheng snapped back. “What other choice did I have?”

“You could have just let me go. I would have been fine. You didn’t need to…you don’t need to put yourself out on my account.”

He would have preferred he had just fucking stabbed him. Honestly. Then who the fuck was he? Some acquaintance? Some stranger? To not ‘put himself out’--

He was really that easy to leave behind? Just that unremarkable, unneeded, unwanted? That every option, even the Burial Mounds where he had been trapped was preferable to staying with him in the home he had rebuilt with blood and sweat, plank by plank for them--for them, the only family he had left in this world.

What was so broken about Jiang Cheng that no one could possibly just love him as he was? What did he have to do to stop people from leaving him?

He wanted to stab Sandu through the corpse that used to be Wen Ning’s chest, tear off the talismans and throw him in the lake for the fish to take out of sight. To seize Wei Wuxian and scream; Stop letting go of me!

“Well, aren’t you so brave. Aren’t you so noble,” gritted out, all dark and vile, and Wei Wuxian flinched and Jiang Cheng would have felt triumphant if he didn’t feel so fucking awful instead.

“I had to.”

“You had to.”

Wei Wuxian said nothing. But he didn’t look ashamed. He just looked tired.

“Right. Because you’re so strong and powerful and right, always, and I’m the asshole who doesn’t care enough.”

“You know I never said that.”

“But that’s what you think. You still think that I didn’t do enough. That I didn’t do the right thing.”

Instead of fighting back--instead of denying it--Wei Wuxian let out a loud breath, shook his head and turned away to drop himself heavily beside the mattress on the floor. This retreat left Jiang Cheng completely empty. His nails cut into his palm and he was shaking all over, staring down at Wei Wuxian as he picked up another talisman, not looking at him. They had had this conversation already, in fits and starts on the race back to Lotus Pier, but hadn’t been able to fully say any of this around A-jie or the Wen’s and so had just jabbed at each other for days. But here, it was all unraveling at once like too tight bandages coming off. He craved a conclusion--the give and take of a shouting match or the clarity of a split lip and Wei Wuxian wasn’t giving it to him.

Couldn't. If it came to blows, Jiang Cheng would just hurt him.

And why was that, again?

His brother's face was gaunt as he ignored him, eyes shadowed, fingers raw and red with blood and cinnabar. Still working. Giving. He was always giving of himself to everyone. His protection, his trust, his love, his time.

His core.

Just more proof that he was better; kinder, more generous, better in every way. Well. Not every way, now. The overworked core gave an untimely twinge. But that even bore his fingerprints, didn’t it? His sacrifice. (He had tried so hard, so fucking hard to give Wei Wuxian something that only he could give, the only protection, the only apology Jiang Cheng had left for what he had blamed him for. And he had shoved it right back like an unwanted gift.)

Jiang Cheng wasn't special, though. That knowledge bristled in his throat like knives, now. What he had done for Jiang Cheng wasn't because he loved him--apparently, it was because it was the right thing to do.

And Wei Wuxian always did the right thing. He would have done it for anyone.

Jiang Cheng's eyes went to the talismans fluttering in the dark breeze. It was the Cloud Recesses, the Yin Iron, the oh-so-perfect-and-peerless-and-interesting-Lan-Wangji all over again. Leaving Jiang Cheng behind to go be a hero because he just didn’t fucking matter enough to keep around. Because Wei Wuxian thought he was pathetic and selfish.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes were burning, his voice shaking when he spat, “Great. Then just keep trying to make yourself a better shidi out of that thing. I’m sure it will never stop kissing your ass.”

On his way back to his room, he snapped at a young servant girl to order a bath for Wen Qing. She practically ran.

Nice fucking job, idiot.

Crashing face first onto his bed, he fell into unconsciousness immediately.

#peony to lotus #my fic #my stuff #This is one of those times where I'm not even sure I like this I just need to /get it out of my face/ so I can move on x.x #[points at jc] you'd better behave better next time or I will never write your POV again do you hear me young man? That was NIGHTMARE-ISH #I cut a LOVELY CONVERSATION BECAUSE OF YOU

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undertalethingems · 3 years

Text

Bark at the Moon Chapter 19: Darker Yet Darker

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None?

Chapter Summary: If Alphys is going to help the brothers overcome their inability to shift forms, she needs more information. Information that lies in the grim, long-abandoned sections of the lab she never knew about. The lab where the brothers were made.

Alphys breathed. In, and out. She meshed her fingers together, then snapped them outwards with a crackle. She picked up a hammer, a blowtorch, and lowered the welding visor over her eyes.

It was time to 'hack' into the abandoned labs.

Of all the floors listed on the elevator, all but two seemed to be operational--the entry floor, and the lowest, where she'd conducted her experiments. She'd wondered about the others, of course, but had never been able to verify that they existed. As far as she could tell, they'd been dummied out, so to speak--placeholders in the elevator's control panel that weren't actually connected to anything.

Thanks to a couple of skeletons, she knew that wasn't true. There were whole sections of her facility that had been sealed off, and who was she, as a scientist, if she didn't investigate? This was supposed to be her lab, what if there was important equipment to salvage? Not to mention the implications it might have for her friends. So she'd gathered her tools and her courage, turned off most of the elevator's safeties to keep its doors open, and began lowering it manually so there'd be no bypassing whatever floors lay between. Slowly sinking downwards, her heart leapt when a door finally rose into view in the dim light--but she quickly got to work.

The blowtorch hissed and sparked, and a clang announced it had done its work. Alphys shut it off and switched to the hammer, using it to knock the doors loose and slowly pry her way through. She could really use Undyne's muscles right now... Her strong, broad shoulders... those powerful biceps covered in glimmering scales... No! She could dream later. There were people counting on her. She wedged herself in the half-open door, braced herself against the other, and pushed with her leg. It grated open, and finally, she set foot on a floor it seemed no one had used for decades.

The landing was nondescript, lit by the weak emergency lighting she was familiar with. Even so, she exchanged the welding mask for a headlamp and flicked it on, illuminating the rest of the hall down to a doorway. She took a deep breath--and tried not to choke on the stale air. Even the ventilation system seemed to have been cut off here... She'd have to be careful. Gripping her hammer, she shuffled forward into the gloom.

A greyish-white mass erupted from the wall. Alphys shrieked, backpedaling so fast she tripped over her own tail. She landed on her back and rolled, scrambling on all fours for the elevator--and then she stopped. She recognized that electronic buzzing...

She turned, looking over her shoulder. "M-m... Memoryheads?"

The mass screeched, coalescing into a more familiar appearance, and Alphys turned over and sat as she tried to catch her breath. What were they doing here...?

"U-um, hi... you know you can leave the lab now, i-if you wanted," she said, slowly recovering from her nerves. "S-sorry I yelled, by the way, you just startled me. It's... k-kind of spooky down here, huh?"

The memoryheads buzzed like an old computer's disk drive.

"W-well, maybe not to you, ha ha... U-um... I sure hope you're the only thing lurking down here! I-I... I'm going to keep going now, okay?"

She got to her feet, brushed off her coat, and picked up her scattered tools before proceeding back down the hallway. She passed the memoryheads, and looked back to see they'd begun following her a few feet behind. What Undyne had shared about them popped into her head, and she had to wonder... Maybe they could help her.

"H-hey! So, I... I didn't make you, did I? You weren't part of my experiment."

A harsh grating sound emanated from the amalgamate. Oh, that's right--Alphys dug into her pocket for her phone. The speaker crackled with static, and she listened.

"NEGATIVE RESULT."

"O-Oh, that means, no, right?"

"That is correct."

"O-oh... Oh man... so my hypothesis... C... Can you... show me where you were made?"

"One moment, please."

The memoryheads phased through the floor.

"H-hey! I can't do that!" Alphys spluttered, then sighed. She should have known... the memoryheads were the more enigmatic of her charges... and they weren't even hers! What had she gotten into...?

"You may join us now," the phone suddenly crackled, and she jumped.

"Wh-where? What floor? What number?"

"666666666666666666666666666666666666--"

She shut the phone off, ending the harsh screech. Was there even a sixth floor? She turned back for the elevator once more--though she definitely wanted to check out all the abandoned labs had to offer, she had a priority. Back inside, she checked the panel--and there was indeed a sixth level. She'd head there, and could only hope the memoryheads actually had something for her.

A bang, clang, and scrape, and Alphys forced another set of doors open. The air here was even stuffier--a lingering chemical trace intermingled with decaying tile and carpet. She coughed, and hoped the air coming down the elevator shaft would be enough until she got the ventilation working. She'd take it slow until then.

"O-okay, I'm on the sixth floor, Memoryheads," she spoke into the phone, and static rose on the line.

"Come join the fun." "Come join the fun." "Come join the fun."

She sighed. They were helping, in their limited way. There was nothing for it but to venture into the dark, and see what she'd find. She shuffled forward, feet padding along warped linoleum--the first monster to tread these halls in years.

No.

Alphys' breath caught in her throat. There, in the dust--there were footprints. She swallowed hard, and followed them. The hall opened into a room, and she passed by rows of deteriorating machines. She could only guess at their purpose--all rotten rubber tubing, peeling paint, and oxidizing metal. Generators, perhaps. The footprints passed them by, and so did she. Another hall lead to another room, this one lined with all kinds of monitoring equipment, their paneling and readouts coated with years of dust and stained by a burst pipe. But nothing here seemed to have a means of storing information--there wasn't much to be gleaned here. So she continued on.

She finally came to a room that looked like a laboratory, with workbenches and cabinets on one side--and a pair of operating tables on the other. There was also some kind of device on the floor--it had been shattered by an incredible force. The footprints seemed to stop by it before moving on.

The next room made Alphys gasp--and not because the air was thin. It was U-shaped, and tall cisterns lined the walls, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling. The memoryheads waited here.

"Th... This is...?"

"It's a real get together," the memoryheads stated, apparently confirming her unfinished thought.

Alphys hurried over to examine the nearest tank, pouring over its construction. The craftsmanship, the expert tooling! What she wouldn't give for a set of blueprints or schematics or--a chill suddenly ran down her spine. No. This wasn't anything to get excited about.

She looked back up at the cracked glass walls of the tank before her. This was where the brothers had been... made. They'd both come from one of these--not sparked from a parent's soul like any other monster. If Gaster had stopped there, he might have been alright, but then he'd...

She turned back to the memoryheads. "C-can you show me... Do you know where the brothers lived down here? Sans and Papyrus?"

"Invalid statement. Please try again."

"Oh, you don't know... O-okay, I can figure it out. Thank you for leading me here."

"Our pleasure."

She nodded to them, and headed back the way she'd come. It seemed the owner of the footprints had done the same--but then had seemed to stagger... and then the trail vanished...? Weird...

Wait. Alphys squinted, and found a clear print. She placed her own foot beside it to compare. It was just a little smaller, left by rounded footwear... These were Sans' footprints. She should have known...! She sighed. What had Sans been looking for down here...? In any case, his trail went cold. Alphys only had her own guidance to go on now.

There was another doorway opposite of the tank room, so she headed for it--and thanked her luck as rows of ancient computers greeted her. Finally! This was what she'd been hoping for. She headed for the nearest one, and booted it up--or, tried to. It briefly wheezed to life, only to die, and she swore under her breath as she dove under the desk to open it up. These were built into the floor?! Oh come on... Maybe she could remove the hard drives and take them back to her lab for analysis. She pried the side panel open and took a look--well, that was unusual.

And bad.

The main drives had melted together somehow, the plastic and metal a bubbled mess. She swore under her breath again, and reached in to see what her magic could tell her. The spark of magical electricity raced out, laying the computer's wiring bare in her mind's eye. It was the skill that had made her such a mechanical genius, and as she sensed the magic's ebb and flow, she sighed. She'd salvaged many a broken machine others had written off, but the chances of getting anything more than parts out of this were slim. She squeezed back out from under the desk, and surveyed the room. There were at least a dozen more... She had to hope she could get something out of those. She dusted herself off, moved to the next station, and got to work.

Three hours later, and Alphys had pulled as many drives from the remaining computers. She didn't have high hopes for these either, but they'd seemingly suffered the least damage from whatever event had fried an entire room of computers. She suspected the events leading to Gaster's disappearance might have been it... but that didn't help her now. She put the drives in her tool satchel, took one last look around the room, then headed back for the elevator.

The memoryheads burst from the floor again, and Alphys shrieked.

"G-guys! I know I sh-should be used to that by now, but please--"

The amalgamates buzzed, and she pulled out her phone to listen.

"Right this way."

"O-oh, you know of... more stuff?"

"CORRECT."

"Okay. Um, lead the way then."

Alphys shuffled after the memoryheads as they flit down the hall and into the elevator. She gave them a quizzical look--and jumped as the elevator started without any input--any visible input, at least. It rose to the next floor up, and Alphys dug for her tools, expecting another round of cutting her way in. But the doors dinged and opened smoothly onto a wide landing, and she watched the amalgamate glide out. But she shook her head and followed.

The hallway opened into a larger room, with windows along one side and a door to another hallway that continued on straight. Of chief interest to her was the large computer terminal set into the wall, but there was also a monitor near the windows, and she could just make out another placed in the hallway. If nothing else, this looked promising.

She padded over to the terminal, then blinked and turned back to the memoryheads. "Hey, u-um... thank you."

"DON'T MENTION IT." "You're welcome" "be seeing you."

They phased out, leaving Alphys alone in the abandoned lab once more. She took a deep breath, and turned back to the main terminal. This looked more advanced than the computers she'd already raided, and she hoped it had been better shielded from damage. She gathered her nerves, and turned it on. It flickered--and command-line text spurted across the screen. Alphys grinned, cracked her knuckles, and got to work. Alphys dug into the files, many of which, though corrupted, still held tantalizing fragments of data.

"O-okay, this said something about behavioral sources, and that other file mentioned cross-referencing a natural history encyclopedia with the behaviors observed in a study group... A study group of what though...?" Alphys muttered to herself as she wrote her own notes on what she'd pieced together. She'd copied down a few tables of measurements, and found parameters for the tubes she'd seen in the other rooms. But there was still more to comb through, and amid the gibberish of corrupted text more complete phrases stood out, forming a log of observations.

"...UBJECT REQUIRES FOOD. UNFORTUNATE. I WAS HOPING IT WOU..."

"...BEAM OUTPUT UNDER EXPECTED PERFORMANCE. SUBJECT CONTINUES TO EXHIB... URTHER TESTING REQUIRED..."

"...SUBJECT EXHIBITS UNUSUAL BEHAVIO... NGE OUTSIDE PREDICTED... NOT FOLLOWING MY INTENDED..."

"Y-yeah, of course they didn't, you jerk," Alphys muttered to herself as she continued to scroll through the files and copy whatever had survived. She already didn't like Gaster very much, but these files were doing nothing for his reputation. She found a proposed recipe for whatever he'd used to feed the brothers and grimaced. "Just plain food-grade magic and a few basic vitamins...? Really? That would have no flavor... No wonder Sans loves fast food and Papyrus can't cook... Oh, this log looks pretty complete! Let's see what it says..."

"I HAVE NOW CONFIRMED IT... BOTH SUBJECTS EXHIBIT TROUBLING ABILITY. PHENOTYPE EXPRESSION IS VARIABLE... SEEMINGLY AT WILL. MORE TESTING WILL BE NEEDED TO DETERMINE IF THIS COULD BE... PREVENTED IN SOME WAY. FOR NOW, UNDESIRABLE ATTRIBUTES WILL BE MITIGATED."

Alphys shuddered. "M-mitigated... I guess that's a nice way of saying he made them be what he wanted... ugh. Well... there's another entry, so..."

"PHENOTYPE ISSUES PERSIST. NO PROGRESS MADE ON SUPPRESSING THE ABILITY. IT APPEARS TO BE A FUNCTION OF THEIR... DESIGN FLAW."

Alphys stared at the words before her. "Design flaw... what does he... wait.... Does he mean their souls?!"

Disgusted, she pushed away from the terminal and paced. Suggesting a soul was a flaw... she couldn't understand it, couldn't comprehend the callousness this log boasted. She bristled, and static crackled across her scales--oh, the last time she'd been this angry it had been watching Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2! But as angry as she was, she needed to keep looking. She needed whatever information this place still held. She took a few more deep breaths, ran her hands over her face, and returned to the computer to keep digging.

As it so often did, the time flew as she worked. She only realized how long she'd spent browsing and recovering files when her stomach growled, signaling it was well into the night and she'd forgotten to eat. She sighed, and rubbed at weary eyes... She'd collected so much, but there was still more, dozens of files she hadn't gotten to. She'd have to come back and keep looking at this--at least she knew where it was now. And all she'd read was enough to start formulating a hypothesis.

She shut the computer down and gathered her things, then shuffled over to the windows to have a look before she headed up. She couldn't make out much in the dim light, but the room beyond seemed... huge. She looked around and... oh! There was a light switch here. She pressed it, and overhead lighting clicked on, revealing the room beyond. It was huge--perhaps twice the size of the main floor upstairs, if not bigger. The walls were stained--but had clearly once been a stark, sterile white. Was this where the brothers had been... tested?

Alphys pursed her lips, and backed away. The lights had also been turned on in the hallway, showing more rooms. She wasn't sure she wanted to, but... she was curious. She shuffled on, and came to the first door. It was reinforced, and she could only just see through the window if she stood on her toes. More stark walls, though the room was much smaller--then she realized it was subdivided, with a thick window and another reinforced door splitting the room...

A pit grew in her stomach. This... had to be...

She wouldn't have believed anyone could keep a fellow monster like this. But, considering what she'd just read she wasn't surprised Gaster had only provided the bare essential to the brothers. She glanced up at the monitor set into the wall nearby. If it was anything like the ones she'd used herself... She waved her hand in front of it.

"HOLDING ROOM 1. CONTENTS: UNOCCUPIED."

"A-ah..." she uttered, and shuffled to the next. It was identical to the first.

"HOLDING ROOM 2. CONTENTS: UNOCCUPIED."

She supposed it was better they were empty... but she wanted to see them all. The third room was slightly different--it was a bit larger, and had a raised shelf on one side. If she squinted, she could just make out what seemed to be a ragged scrap of fabric laid on top of it. Was that... supposed to be a bed? Maybe this was where the brothers really lived... At least it had more space than the holding rooms, but there was nothing to make it any more comfortable. It was just bare, featureless metal walls. She grimaced, and activated the nearby monitor.

"ENCLOSURE 1: SUBJECT 1. WARNING: DO NOT APPROACH. SUBJECT IS KNOWN TO BE DANGEROUS. DO NOT PERMIT INTERACTION WITH SUBJECT 2. EXPERIMENT CONCLUSION: FAILURE."

Alphys shuddered, then turned to the next room. It was similarly barren.

"ENCLOSURE 2: SUBJECT 2. WARNING: DO NOT APPROACH. SUBJECT IS KNOWN TO ESCAPE, MAY BE DANGEROUS. DO NOT PERMIT INTERACTION WITH SUBJECT 1. EXPERIMENT CONCLUSION: FAILURE."

Alphys clenched her fists. Her friends weren't failures... they were incredible for holding together for so long, getting through so much, and then doing nice things for her and trusting her to help them. They had survived all of--this. Her goal was clearer than ever--but she was too tired to work on it now. She turned her back on the abandoned lab and headed for the elevator.

Reaching the fresh air of the main floor was a relief. As tempted as she was to immediately plug the hard drives she'd collected into her computer and start recovering them, she opted to fix some instant noodles and catch up on the Undernet instead. It had been a long day... she'd get back to work tomorrow, after she'd had some time to recharge.

The drives she'd recovered from the lab were plugged into her main computer as she heated up breakfast, and she sipped at a mug of coffee as she poked at them virtually. If she could coax more information out of them, it'd bolster her suspicions. To say the code structure was archaic was... an understatement. But, it meant the password protection was easily bypassed with a few tricks--she was better at actual hacking than the 'hacking' she'd done to get into the abandoned lab floors, and in moments she'd begun browsing whatever files remained. There were plenty to choose from, many of which seemed to relate to details of the Core and other technological projects. But none seemed to relate to the brothers' origins, and after thoroughly checking the rest of the available files, she moved to the next drive.

It seemed these computers hadn't been used for anything relating to the brothers, however. Barring any damage or corruption, each drive contained essentially the same files. Alphys' best guess was that that room of computers had been used by everyone in the lab... and perhaps not everyone was allowed access to the files detailing Gaster's little project. She sighed, setting the old disks aside. She'd have to go back to that main computer after all, see what else she could get, and collect her own data to compare. And that would mean calling the brothers in for some tests.

"O-okay, just, hold still please!" Alphys said, trying to steady her own hands as Papyrus fidgeted.

"Are all of these really necessary?" he griped. "They're making me, itchy, I think."

"I n-need them so I can properly read your magic! Th-these sensors are the only way to tell what's going on with it, and they won't work if I don't get them placed just right," Alphys explained.

"think of it like one of your puzzles bro," Sans suggested helpfully from where he half-dozed nearby. "do it in the wrong order and ya gotta start over, right?"

Papyrus sighed. "I suppose. Very well!"

He finally sat perfectly still, allowing Alphys to place the rest of the sensors.

"Okay! There! That's it for that--now I need to make sure they work, and then we can get, um, some data. You guys ready?"

"Finally! We're doing real science!"

"instead of being the science done," Sans joked--was it a joke? Alphys hoped so as she flicked the electro-magical field reader on.

"Okay, just like we did for S-Sans, I'm going to need you to hold still and wait for a minute so we can get a baseline," she explained.

"Of course! I was paying attention!" Papyrus huffed. "I'm just excited! To think, after all this time, we might find out why... I'm tall, and Sans isn't!"

"well, that's one possibility," Sans said, and Alphys couldn't help but laugh.

"I sure hope we find out more than that. O-okay, just a little bit longer, and...!" She watched the timer count up to one minute, then cut the data collection off. "Okay, now, I'm going to start it again, but I'd like for you to cast a few attacks. I-it can be any pattern or bullet type, you just have to keep it up for thirty seconds!"

"A simple task for someone as great as me! I'm ready!"

"Target's over there--aaand go!"

Papyrus obliged, sending a flurry of bones at the dummy Undyne had loaned them for the day. He started with a basic array, then quickly built up to a complex pattern before finishing with a blast from his own jaws. Alphys gave him a smile as she cut the reading off.

"Okay, that was great! Sans, are you sure you can't give me at least a couple attacks to compare...?"

"Yeah, come on, Sans! Your patterns may not be as good as mine, but you don't want to mess up Alphys' data, do you? I know you can do it!" Papyrus encouraged, and his brother gave a drawn-out sigh as he got up and trudged over.

"alright, alright. i'll throw you a bone."

"Sans! You better throw more than one! You have to fill thirty seconds of data!"

"geez, don't remind me."

Alphys finished disconnecting the wires that had linked Papyrus to her machine, and reconnected the lines that were still attached to Sans from his first round of tests. "Okay, everything should be hooked back up. Are you ready?"

"as i'll ever be."

"And... go!"

Sans immediately opened with a pair of blasters before tearing into the dummy with a bone maze, then sent alternating blue and white bones at it before summoning another round of blasters. As she watched, Alphys wondered if they would have a training dummy to return to Undyne by the time this was through. She gave the signal for him to stop, and he flopped to the tile floor panting.

"Sans, you showoff! Alphys, I want to do mine again, I can do better than my troll of a brother," Papyrus said, indignant. Despite his breathlessness, Sans chuckled from the floor.

"U-uh, well, maybe later--I only needed to see you guys using your attacks, it didn't really matter how, um, flashy they were," she replied, holding up her hands. "That should be good enough for now. Th... There's one other thing I wish I could test, b-but, I think I can just use the old... the old data I was able to recover for that."

"I thought the point of this was to collect brand new, un-possibly-corrupted data?" Papyrus said, fiddling with one of the wires trailing from his skull.

"W-well, yeah, but... I can't ask you guys to do it, not when you guys have worked so hard to..." Alphys fidgeted. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything you don't want to, and I can't imagine you'd want to do, um, this potential round of testing... so, f-forget it! It's fine."

"you wanna know what our magic's doing when we slip," Sans surmised, pushing up into a sitting position. "isolating those patterns might tell us how to turn 'em off... that's what you're thinking, right?"

Alphys sighed. "Y-yeah... but... I know how hard it is for you guys to break out of it. And... I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to. I... I saw where he kept you. I... I read at least... some of what he did to you... And I don't want this to be anything like what you went through down there."

The brothers exchanged looks. After a moment, Sans sighed. "we want to get this figured out as much as anyone. if that means... letting go... well, with any luck it'll be worth the trouble, right? plus, i'll have you guys to pull me out of it."

"Oh no you don't Sans, you are not sacrificing yourself! I mean, it's very selfless of you, but! You also have the worst time with it. So I volunteer!"

"no way papyrus, i'm not letting you do that to yourself. i'll feel better knowing you're looking out for me."

"And! You'll be looking out for me! It's fair either way!"

"no, you're not doing it. end of story bro."

"Guys," Alphys interrupted, "we don't have to do it! I shouldn't have even mentioned it, ugh."

Papyrus turned to her. "Doctor Alphys, if this is going to help us figure out how to never do this again, then I think we should. I... I want to know what he did to us."

Alphys looked at his earnest expression, and turned to Sans. "Is... Is that how you feel too?"

Sans closed his eyes and rubbed his face with a claw. "... yeah. everything we've tried... it hasn't worked. i have no idea how we figured it out as kids. so... anything that might help us get this over with... we gotta try all our options, right?"

"O-okay... If you guys are sure... then, I'll take care of my side of things. If you need a few days to decide who's going t-to... do the tests, or if we're doing them at all, that's fine. I can analyze what we collected today in the meantime."

"I think that may be best!" Papyrus replied, and Sans nodded. "You'll hear from us soon enough! You can count on it!"

"J-just, take care, okay?" Alphys said as she hurried to help remove the sensors from the brothers' skulls. "I d-don't want you guys to get hurt because of me..."

Papyrus turned to pat her head. "Don't worry about us, Doctor Alphys! We've gotten through far worse! And! This time! It's on our terms!"

She bid them farewell, hoping they hadn't all just made a terrible mistake... but she had to trust the brothers. They had gotten through worse, and come out on top every time. They were counting on her to do her job--so she ought to do it. She gathered up the lines from the EM reader, and wheeled it closer to the computer so she could input the data and begin her analysis. She'd compare the brothers' readouts to samples she'd taken of herself, some of the engineers from the Core, and her friends--all to see if anything differed between them. It was bound to be interesting.

The days passed, and even as she continued trawling through the data collected by a cruel man, she realized she was having fun doing science again. Watching the numbers come together, formulating a hypothesis, tweaking variables to monitor the effects... This was so much more up her alley, finding how all the pieces fit together. And as she collected more pieces, she was getting a clearer picture of just what state the brothers' souls were in, and what Gaster's experiment had been meant to achieve.

She just needed was one last piece to confirm her idea and start working on a solution. She could only hope she'd hear from the brothers soon...

Finally, Sans called her one afternoon, sounding especially weary. "heya alph."

"Oh! H-hi, Sans! What's up?"

"i, uh think we're ready."

"... I guess Papyrus won the argument, huh?"

Sans managed a laugh. "yeah. i couldn't stand up to his flawless logic... which was 'go into the woods for a few days to loosen up' before i could get around to it myself."

"Uh. Wow."

"yeah. he's always really on top of things."

"He's... okay, right?"

"oh yeah, my bro's fine. it's just... rough, seeing him like this, y'know?"

"I bet. A-anyway, I'm ready whenever you guys are."

"ok. we'll be right up."

"Okay! I'l be ready!"

Sans hung up, and she scrambled to actually be ready, because whenever Sans said he was about to be somewhere, he was almost always already there. She pulled the EM reader away from the wall, and gathered a bundle of sensors and draped them over the top just as there was a knock at the door. She squinted, because that was an automatic door...

"Come in!" she called, and the door slid open.

"you're supposed to say 'who's there'," Sans replied as he ambled in, Papyrus in tow. "alright, good luck getting him to hold still this time. don't think he's, uh, as far as he could be, but, should be enough for your tests."

Alphys looked from him to Papyrus, who was warily sniffing the floor. She could already tell in how he carried himself and studied the room that he really had fallen back on instincts. Which was what they needed for the test, but... like Sans had said. It was rough seeing him like this.

"O-okay. Papyrus?"

He perked up, and swung his head around, tilting it to one side.

"Um, hi. Can you come over here, please?"

He looked to Sans, who nodded before walking slowly over to the machine. Papyrus followed, and scrutinized the device thoroughly before sitting down and studying her patiently.

"Okay, now, I need you to hold still while I stick these on," she explained, feeling like she was repeating herself--but she wasn't sure Papyrus remembered the last time he'd been here. "Th-they might get a little itchy, but, I need you to let them stay on, okay?"

Papyrus made an uncertain warble as she approached, but Sans gave him a reassuring hoot and laid down. Alphys gave him a look.

"U-um... you're not... slipping too, are you?"

He gave her a weary shrug. "doing my best not to, but... we stick close, y'know?"

Alphys pursed her lips, but continued with her task. Papyrus was surprisingly patient despite his former concern, only fidgeting a little as she pasted the sensors onto his skull and sternum. He tried to scratch at them once--but Sans batted his hand down with a gruff rasp, and though Papyrus shot him an annoyed look, he settled down.

"Okay, they're all hooked up! I'm starting the test now--just, hang in there okay?"

Well before the minute was up, Papyrus got too fidgety again, and risked pulling away from the machine--but before Alphys could scold him, Sans started a game with him. He summoned a small bone just within the reach of Papyrus' neck, and Papyrus snapped at it--missing as Sans pulled it away at the last moment. Papyrus uttered a playful growl, his tail flicking before he lunged at the bone's new spot--and missed again. Sans evaded him a few more times before Papyrus caught the bone in his jaws and it fizzled out of existence. Sans summoned another bone, and the game began anew.

"Alright, that should be enough!" Alphys announced, and the two looked up--though Papyrus took the opportunity to catch the latest bone Sans had been taunting him with. "I think I can work with this--thank you so, so much you guys. I should have more info in a week or two... Are you really going to be okay?"

Sans shrugged. "we're going to undyne's after this, she'll get him to shape up. we'll see ya later, alph."

"O-oh, okay! Tell her I said hi," Alphys said, hoping she wasn't blushing as she peeled the last of the sensors off Papyrus. "With any luck, I'll be able to help you with a different kind of shape."

"heh, good one. ok bro, ready to see undyne?"

Papyrus warbled an affirmative, and with a click, and a blink, they were gone.

Alphys shook her head, and turned to begin analyzing her results. She still didn't get how Sans did that. Maybe there'd be something in the data.

There certainly was a lot of data to go through. Alphys had been building her hypothesis, but as she got deeper into the numbers, she realized there was more to it. She dug back into the abandoned lab's computers, hacked and reconfigured her way in, and scraped every last bit from the broken registries and hidden backups. She cheered when she found a nearly complete log charting the brothers' growth, only to feel sickened by Gaster's actions yet again as she read the suggestions on how to alter their physiology and diet to get better results--whatever that meant.

"Subject had human-derived willpower substance drawn today..." Alphys read, squinting. "Human derived... willpower substance? What does he mean by..."

A chill seized her. Surely it wasn't the same...? She scrambled back through the readouts she'd taken from the brothers, and cross referenced them. Oh. That would explain... why that part of the wavelengths had looked so odd. She sank back in her chair--it really was the same. Determination... Really, knowing the memoryheads hadn't been her doing, and the blueprints she'd found, she shouldn't be so surprised. Somehow, the brothers were stable--thank god. But, why...? Why add that to... a living weapon? Or a monster? She kept digging, trying to understand the man who'd created life just to use it as a tool.

But before she could make much progress or come to any conclusions, Undyne called her.

"Alphys, are you busy?" she said ugently, and Alphys dropped the stack of papers she'd collected.

"N-no, why?"

"It's Papyrus. We can't get him back."

Alphys froze, heart racing instantly. "...Wh-what? It wasn't too b-bad when he was here--what's going on?"

"It's," she started, frustration clear, "it's like he just keeps sliding, no matter what we do. Sans won't say anything but I can tell he's worried. We thought you might be able to tell us something..."

Alphys gave a shuddering breath. "I... It's too early, I haven't had a chance to analyze everything yet. I-I only have a guess as to why the brothers can change at all, not--not how to help them yet..."

Undyne grunted. "Okay, well, we'll help him as much as we can. Let us know as soon as you find something, okay? Please."

"I-I'm working as fast as I can. Just.. just tell them to hang in there, I should have something soon."

"Okay. Thank you, Alph."

She hung up, and Alphys was left staring ahead at her desk. It... was... probably okay? The brothers had been stuck in their feral states before, and both had snapped out of it eventually. It was the pattern--even if they stayed in the blaster form for a while, they'd get back to their true selves...

A pattern.

The idea seized her. Scrambling through the papers before her, she began compiling all the notes, charts, anything that was relevant. She hoped her hunch was wrong, dread coiled tight in her chest as she began running the numbers.

A week of nearly constant work later, and she had her results in hand.

Alphys stared at it, threw it aside to pace, then came back to it. This couldn't be right. But it explained... too much about the problems they'd had. She couldn't bear the thought of telling them... but she had to, didn't she? They deserved to know. But if she told them, wouldn't they hate her...? No, they might hate her more if she didn't say something, tell them that they...

She had to tell them.

"Th-thanks for coming," she uttered, trying not to let her voice shake as Undyne and the brothers entered her lab again. Papyrus balked at the doorway, and only scuttled in once Sans had plodded into the center of the room, proving it was safe. His gaze darted around his surroundings, and he chittered nervously. Alphys frowned. They really hadn't gotten him back, and today... she'd be telling them why.

"Uh, so, how's it going?" Undyne said, trying to lighten the mood with small talk as they gathered around a fold-out table. "You said you had something for us, right? Not gonna lie, I've been super excited for the results."

Alphys sighed, and Undyne's smile fell.

"Alph... what did you find?"

"I-I," she stammered, "I found... well... I found a lot. Not everything, but, enough to figure some things out. I was able to piece together what Gaster did to make the brothers the way they are, b-but... I also found something... that's... bad. And it has to do with why Papyrus isn't back to being himself... but I didn't find out any way to help you... I'm sorry."

"s'ok. you did your best," Sans said, his head laid on the table and eyes dim. What was happening now had clearly taken its toll.

Undyne grimaced. "Well, it's only been a little bit since you started working, right? Maybe you just haven't found the answer yet. But, I think you should tell us what you did find."

"Maybe," Alphys said, trying not to sound defeated. It was true she'd only had all the data for a little while, but... she wasn't sure it would matter. "I... I want to be more honest about my work, s-so... I'll tell you what I found, even though it's bad news... If... if you don't want to hear it, I don't blame you..."

Sans closed his eyes. "Papyrus... isn't going to understand it. So... you can say whatever."

"We're not gonna be mad or anything just because you did your job," Undyne reassured her. "Tell us what you found out."

Alphys grit her teeth, and turned to Sans. "S-so... I guess I'll start with why you guys are like this to begin with. The beginning's usually a good place to start, right? Ha ha... Anyway... I'll, um, try not to ramble but... I think the gist of it... is that, Gaster tried to make a living... bullet. You know how some monsters can cast attacks that, um, seem like their own entity, right? That sort of construct is uncommon, but not unheard of--but, they're not truly living things, they're attacks the same as any other. It seems like... Gaster wanted to take this idea further, and make attacks that could potentially think for themselves and last outside of battle a long time. All to hunt humans...

"He constructed some extremely advanced attacks--based on what I could find, he figured out their most intricate workings, even how to 'program' them with certain traits or behaviors--ones he learned hunting animals on the surface have. It looks like he spent years refining this technique. But... he still couldn't get them to last outside of battle like he wanted. The way he saw it... the next step was to add a little bit of soul energy. H-he, um, apparently didn't expect... that even a small amount would become a full soul. S-so... the soul formed inside this... programmed attack format.

"It was easiest for the magic to flow along these pre-constructed paths... but the soul... still contained the genetic format for a skeleton monster--a bipedal form with intelligence and skills beyond what Gaster had intended. So... without realizing it... he ended up with a sort of... hybrid, of his specialized attack, and a monster that, um... technically... was his... child."

"Gaster should count himself lucky he's erased, because if I got my hands on him..." Undyne growled, her fists clenched tightly, "he'd WISH he was."

"Y-yeah, seeing all this, I was furious too," Alphys breathed. "He... in what little I read, he just... talked like he was working with animals. M-maybe... he'd convinced himself that's all you were. B-but... so... that's... where your instincts, and ability to transform, come from. It was all him--he, unwittingly, gave your souls this ability by trying to fit them into another form."

"...huh," Sans uttered. "guess that does explain it... why we can do it, and why the instincts only come up when we're like this."

"So is there any way to like... turn it off?" Undyne said. "It's not really a part of them, so maybe--"

"I-it is, though" Alphys said, downcast. "It's as much a part of their soul as, I dunno, bone magic. A-and, turning it off, w-well... Gaster wanted to do the opposite, and take away their other form... He never actually succeeded, obviously, but... that... brings me to the bad news."

"Wh... What do you mean?"

Alphys heaved another sigh. "I didn't think anything of it at first. It just seemed like... like a coincidence, or maybe Gaster just wore you guys down over time, but... You've said it was easier to change back and forth when you were younger, right? And you just... did it less as time went on... B-but... well... with Papyrus being unable to get back from even a relatively mild slip with your guys' help... I got to thinking...

"Maybe... maybe there was actually a pattern to it. Th-that... as time has gone on... it really.... It really is getting harder for you guys to switch back and forth. Like... like the forms get more entrenched as time goes on, a-and, the longer you stay in them. S-so... I plotted all the times it mentioned you guys switching forms on a graph... a-and..."

She slid a pair of papers across the table for Sans and Undyne to study. Each was labeled with their names, and the points on the graphs plotted lines--but they looked more like waves, the crests and troughs of which increased in amplitude as time went on as their frequency decreased. A fainter line projected the waves' path into the future--and it went off the page.

"I-I... I think... W-well, the data suggests, that, if... if we can't get you guys changed back soon... you... you might... slip, and... not... not be able t-to break out of it... e-ever... ever again."

Sans' eyes blinked out. "... papyrus is going to be stuck like this forever?"

Alphys had never heard his voice break like that before. She could barely speak herself, but she couldn't leave things there. "I-I don't know, there's--there's still a chance we can bring him out of this. We just--we can't let it get too far, o-or... A-and I mean, I could be wrong! God, I hope I'm wrong... My d-data is probably pretty incomplete, I don't have much f-from, when you were younger or before all this... B-but, it's... It's a possibility, and, when you called and said you hadn't gotten him out of it, that's when I realized what might be going on, why you might not be able to change back like you did a long time ago... and, I... I'm so sorry..."

Undyne clenched her fists. "I... I really hate Gaster. ALL of this, ALL of your guys' suffering, is because of HIM, and hearing it might not be something you can escape? I WON'T accept that. Alphys, if I can help you, just tell me what to do--I'm NOT letting this guy take my friends away after he's already DEAD."

"we'll still be around," Sans uttered, voice subdued. "just won't be like we used to. i... i dunno what we'll do to live, but... h... hey, just... keep being nice to my bro, ok?"

"Sans, we're not giving up! I can't give up! I WON'T give up! I--" Undyne was interrupted as Papyrus, seeing her upset, had put his head against her arm and nuzzled it. She grimaced, and patted him with a hand as she continued. "I said it before, I'll say it as long as I need to. I won't rest until you guys are back the way you want to be. Alphys hasn't finished her research, so there might still be something we can do. For your brother's sake, don't you DARE slip, or give up, or let go. Okay?"

Sans looked up at her, beleaguered. "dunno... i was never good at fighting the inevitable..."

"Well it's not inevitable yet," Undyne stated firmly. "Alphys, if we get the bros changed back soon, what will happen?"

She thought. "I-it... it should mean it's their other forms--the regular skeleton monster form--that becomes dominant. A-at least, at least on this scale. I didn't plot ahead like... decades, s-so it's possible this doesn't show every outcome... B-but... the sooner we avert the current trend, the better..."

"so... how much time... before we're too far gone?" Sans murmured, and Alphys winced. Despite Undyne's words of encouragement, he was obviously doing pretty badly.

"I can't be sure--it, I think it depends on how much you keep exercising your mind, since that seems to be what's helped you break out of it. I'd... I'd keep trying with Papyrus too. I... I'm with Undyne on this one, I... I don't want to give up, even though it looks really bad... S-so, please... you can't give up, Sans. I know that's really hard for you, b-but... one of the other things I discovered, that I'm still researching is... that... You both have artificially elevated levels of Determination. I... I think that's something else he figured out--how to give Determination to monsters in a safe way. It might be another factor in why you haven't been able to change back, but... It might help keep you going, too."

Sans studied her for a while, then closed his eyes. "i dunno. all this... sounds like there was never anything we could do about it. the moment either of us changed this last time... our fate was sealed. i'm... i'm just so tired. all the work we've done to keep ourselves together... it didn't get us anywhere. i... i'll try to keep it together, for papyrus... i don't want to leave him hanging. but... it's been real hard. and if it's only going to get harder... i don't think i can keep it up for much longer."

Undyne reached over to pat his shoulder. "Look, we'll get through this. You just keep holding on to yourself, I'll help with Papyrus--done that before--and Alphys will keep looking for a solution. Monsters didn't get to where we are today by giving up, so you can't either."

"Yeah Sans, I promise I'll keep looking," Alphys stated--Undyne's will was bolstering her own. "Now that I have an idea of what's going on... maybe I can figure out how to undo it--not, not all the way. Like I said, this... this is a part of your soul. But... if we can figure out how you can change back, then, it should stay dormant for a long, long time. And, that's worth going after."

Sans opened his eyes, their lights returned as he studied them both, then looked to his brother, who had gotten bored and wandered off to bat a piece of crumpled paper across the floor. "i... to be honest? i dunno if i care how we end up. all i want is for papyrus to be happy. but... i guess... if i slip too, i dunno who's gonna take care of him. if i can't hold a job, we can't pay for a house, or good food, or... he couldn't do any of the stuff he really loves. i, uh, remember how it was when we lived in the forest, and... i don't want him living like that ever again. so... i guess i do have to keep it together, huh?"

Alphys smiled with relief. "Y-yeah, you do. I still have a lot of data to go through, s-so, nothing's decided yet, b-but... I figured you should know what might be happening, and... hopefully... do something about it. I know I'm going to try."

"Yeah, don't worry! We've got your backs, okay?" Undyne said, grinning widely. She wound up to slap him on the back, but he dodged out of the way.

"ok, don't make that literal," he said, sounding a little better as he squinted at her. "i, uh... won't make any promises. but... hey, maybe i should help with the research too. if there's anything good i inherited from gaster, it was his smarts. science stuff is still cool, despite him."

"I'm glad he didn't totally ruin it for you," Alphys replied, heart soaring as her own hopes returned. "I certainly could use the help, and it would help keep your mind sharp, s-so, if it's not too much for you... that might be good for both of us."

"heh... using gaster's own specialty against him? can't say i don't like the sound of that," Sans replied, something like spiteful glee shining in his eyes now. "yeah. count me in."

"Aw man, all of us working together!" Undyne cheered. "It'll be great!"

"Yeah... yeah, I think that'll be nice. I'm... I'm sorry I couldn't give you guys good news today, but... That's hardly the end of it," Alphys said. "We'll see where the data leads us, and go from there, and not give up until we're sure we've thought of everything. Until then... I'm not through with Gaster's work. He... he's dead... But I won't let him win!"

#Undertalethingem writes #bark at the moon fic #gaster blaster au #sans (undertale)#papyrus (undertale)#alphys (undertale)#Undyne (undertale)#aaaah finally! sorry it took so long to get this out but it's done now ^^#let me know if i need to tag anything??? i don't think there's anything obvious but #this is an angsty story with bad things happening so =u=;

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

some kind of loud, attention grabbing noise that lets you know ITS FIC TIME, BABYYYYY you could start here, but the context... the build up.. the hours of worldcrafting, you'd miss it all... so start here, instead, then circle back.

These last two weeks have actually been nice. She and Adam had both mutually agreed that, despite not being the kind of person either of them would intentionally seek out on their own, Beetlejuice (she still has a hard time believing that’s what BJ stands for, but okay,) is fun. Not just fun, but funny, and seemingly often in the mood to laugh, in that overblown, Vincent Price horror movie way he does, which earns him multiple shushes in the library.

Drama club has gotten better. Barbara has a private theory that what most people need is to just get used to BJ, to spend enough time with him that he stops looking like an outsider, and it’s coming true, slowly, but finally. BJ had mentioned off-handedly he played ukulele, and when the other kids had expressed interest, he’d brought it with him the next day... Though she’s not quite sure where he kept it, the entire day. She’s seen that mess of a locker he’s got. She doubts it fits in there. And it can’t have been in his backpack, either, because every time he sets it down, she can hear what sounds like glass and rocks settling. She’s even seen him, after school, pick up a rock and shove it in one of the pockets. She has to assume his bag weighs a hundred pounds, or so.

His instrument, almost predictably, was painted with black and white stripes, but he’d played the little thing like a pro. She had never taken him for someone who enjoyed the mellow, soft sounds the ukulele was known for, but clearly, she doesn’t know enough about the boy. Miss Larson, the drama instructor, had clapped, and learned that BJ could read music, too. “Maybe while we’re practicing, you can accompany us?” She’d asked, clearly trying to work a way into getting more participation out of their newest member. BJ had been flustered, but had agreed, easily.

The wildest thing had been hearing him sing. They’d moved from being in the drama room, most days, to being in the auditorium, working on lines and practicing their singing. No one’s been officially cast, yet, but it’s mostly to get used to being on stage. Miss Larson had insisted that BJ sing a few lines for them, and he’d sort of made a face, ducked backstage, and had appeared with his ukulele in hand. Barbara didn’t even know he’d put it back there.

“Uh, so, sing what?” He’d shuffled awkwardly, and Miss Larson had smiled. “Whatever you feel,” to which BJ just snorted, and rolled his eyes, but then he plucked a few notes on his ukulele, and started to sing.

“There’s a camp, there’s a camp, by the frozen lake, wa wa ooh. With every belly starving and every finger numb, but up on the hill there’s a red, red rum, somebody’s always cooking something in the lean-to.”

It wasn't a song she’d recognized, but it was clearly morbid. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. The real focal point was his voice, his strange, scratchy pitch, because despite sounding like he gargles sandpaper and nails, he’s got a strong, clear tone, one that carries well, and as he sings, he doesn’t hit a single sour note. She also noted that his enunciation is much clearer when he’s singing, oddly enough. He sang as much as he decided he needed to, and clung to his ukelele as he finished, like a lifeline. “So. Yeah.” He’d said, and then flinched when the clapping started, from all members present, but especially her and Adam. He’d stood looking around at them all, utterly baffled.

“You didn’t tell us you would sing!” Jeremiah, the student director, was the one who looked the most enthused, and BJ balked. “Didn’t think it mattered. M’just gonna be a stagehand.. Right?”

“Maybe he could play the dentist?” Miss Larson had looked at Jeremiah, and they’d begun talking amongst themselves, ignoring him, as he strummed nervously at his instrument.

“Oh, wait, check this out!”

And he sings again, another verse from that same, oddly morbid song, which she’d started to pick up is definitely about cannibals, but his voice is.. Different. The grit is gone. It’s like he’d ran his vocal cords under some hot soapy water, and washed all the grime and gravel out of them, because he sang like an angel, like a normal person, and then, suddenly, devolved into a hacking cough, doubled over.

“Sorry, can only do that so long. Hurts my throat,” he said, after a moment, all the grit back in his voice. He waited. There had been a soft laugh, and then it grew louder, coming from each of the members watching him in turn, because the idea that speaking like THAT somehow hurts, and his normal tone doesn’t, is just so outrageous and silly, and he’d stood there proudly, grinning in that way he does, because his joke had landed, and he might, for the first time since he was forced into their club, be enjoying himself.

So, yes. The last few weeks have been good. Very good.

All that club progress aside, looking back makes her a little flustered, because at this point, she’s gotten the hint that he’s not gay. What he is, is incredibly flirty, not only with Adam but with her, and she finds herself... enjoying it. He keeps his ukulele tucked into the bottom of the cart in the library, and sometimes, when he’s certain he won’t be interrupted, he grabs it and sings little songs about them, laying on top of the cart like a drunk lounge singer on a piano, as she or Adam wheel it along. The songs are made up on the spot tunes that often start dirty, and end sincere, like he can’t even help it. It’s embarrassing, and endearing, and just very… Beetlejuice.

There’s just the problem lingering overhead, the one she’s desperate to solve, of Kevin. BJ doesn’t talk about him, abruptly changes the subject when she tries, or just goes silent, and gives her a hard glare with those amber eyes, which is the worst of the three options, because silence on him is unnerving. He can do this thing where he goes deathly still, and she swears he doesn’t even breathe, just stands there, totally unmoving, like a corpse.

She thinks if she could just go to his house, and talk to his mother, she might get a better understanding of the entire situation, but despite him inviting them, he’s never followed up, and both Adam and herself are too polite to push.. Directly. But then, he doesn’t show up that day, not for library duty and not for drama club, and she makes the decision for him, that today is the day they’ll be coming over. She gets his address out of the guidance counselor, easily. “It’s so sweet you two want to go check up on him,” Mrs. Birch says, sliding his address across her desk to Barbara. “I knew the drama club would be a good fit for him! He’s already making friends!”

Adam’s mom is nice enough to drop them off, and Adam, adorable, sweet Adam, stares delighted at the house, as they walk up the front steps. “It’s a tudor!” he tells her, and she sort of nods, not really knowing exactly what that means. “I’ve never seen one painted black and white, before. Usually those accents are a natural wood color,” and she rings the bell, as he goes on. The outside of the house matches BJ’s stripes, and she wonders if that’s coincidence, or if his parents just really, really love him. The door swings open, and then a chubby blur jumps away from their line of sight, startling her from her thoughts. “Beetlejuice?” Adam calls, concerned, and it takes a moment for their friend to reappear in the doorway, with a croaked out, “Sup?”

He looks terrible. He always looks a little terrible, as mean as that is to say, too pale and with purple spots under his eyes she chalks up to exhaustion, but he looks worse, today. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d actually be sick.

“We just wanted to come by and see if you were okay,” she tells him, and BJ cocks his head so far to the side, he looks like he might fall over. “Why?” “Because.. We’re your friends,” Adam says, cautiously, which causes BJ to stare down at the checkered entryway tile.

“Oh.” He packs a lot of emotion into that little noise.

“Can we come in?” She asks, and he doesn’t look sure, rubbing at the back of his neck, but then next to him, in the doorway, appears what must be Mrs. Deetz. She’s on the tall side, slim, with blonde hair past her shoulders, and she’s wearing all black with lace accents. Even her stud earrings and the rings on her fingers are that same dark hue.

“Well, hello! BJ, invite your friends in!” She urges him, and then, to them asks, “You kids hungry? We’re just sitting down to dinner. It’s grilled cheese tower night,” and then she turns, and leaves them there, like that needs no explanation.

BJ fidgets a moment, but relents. “Come in, I guess,” he moves aside, and Adam and Barbara take a collective step into the Deetz household. The house is dark, not for lack of light, but for lack of color. The walls are paneling which Adam, delighted, says must be original, but they’ve been stained a dark shade of coffee, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she does, she takes in how strangely eerie the place is. It’s less like someone’s home and more like a haunted house ride.

“Oh, you guys haven't taken down the Halloween décor, yet?” Adam asks, noting a cracked vase full of black roses on a side table as they follow BJ further in, and BJ snorts. “That crap? It's up in th’ attack. This is what passes for normal around here.” Barbara stops to stare at a picture of a distorted figure cannibalizing a smaller one. “Saturn Devouring His Son,” BJ says, briefly putting on a voice like a tour guide, high pitched and peppy, and both she and Adam wince. “What’s with you and cannibalism?” she asks, which only earns her that haunted laugh in response.

The kitchen, at least, looks a little more normal and bright, but Barbara learns quickly that’s not to be trusted, because sitting on the counter is what looks to be a lasagna made from sandwiches and sauce. “You guys are here on a night Emily had to cook. Bad luck,” BJ tells them, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s talking about his mother. Does he use her first name?

Emily, or, Mrs. Deetz, her mind corrects politely, busies herself with dishing them both a plate. “So, you kids must be.. Adam and Barbara,” she says, knowingly, and BJ, perhaps embarrassed, shuffles his bare feet at nothing. He’s been talking to his mom about them… aww. She notices then that he’s in his pajamas, which are, like everything else he wears, eccentric. He looks cute. She realizes she’s staring, and BJ catches her eye, and wiggles his eyebrows at her. Oh, god.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced, Mrs. Deetz,” Adam says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Mrs. Deetz waives that off. “It’s totally fine. BJ’s never taken a sick day, before, I bet you probably thought he was faking. You kids can call me Emily. And that, of course, is Lydia.” She gestures to the nine year old scrutinizing them from the kitchen table.

“Hello again,” Barbara says, and Lydia gives her a smile, at least, but it's wary, it’s very, “I’ve got my eyes on you.” It’s strange to see from a little kid.

They all sit down to eat, all five of them, at the kitchen table, she and Adam settled across from BJ and Lydia. Adam squints, trying to read what’s on the other boy’s shirt. “What does that say?” he asks, and BJ glances down, and pulls the top taught, to make it easier to read. “Least exciting hole I’ve ever been in,” both boys say, at the same time. “Grand Canyon National Park.” Barbara and Adam both blush at that, and Mrs.. Emily, Emily just laughs. Lydia looks annoyed. “No one will explain to me what that means,” she tells Barbara, leaning closer to her, and almost looking hopeful. Barbara avoids that look. “It’s a dirty joke,” is all she says, and Lydia, clearly not satisfied, just takes a bite of her grilled cheese abomination. “Chuck hates this shirt,” BJ tells them. “Chuck?” “Chuck, Chuckster, Chuckles, Charles.. My dad,” he grates out. Barbara can’t imagine calling her father by his first name. She’d be in a world of trouble for being “disrespectful,” if she tried. “Is Mr. Deetz home?” Adam asks, and Lydia is the one to reply, mouth still a little too full.

“He’s at the office. He’s always working so fucking late,” Lydia says, and then lets it settle in the air, like she’s waiting for something. Barbara balks, and it feels like her eyes are bulging out of her head, because she’s never heard that kind of language from a nine year old. She glances at Emily nervously, waiting for her to blow up, to be angry, but Emily just seems to be in deep thought.

“I dunno about that one, Lyds,” Mrs. Deetz finally says, and Lydia puffs up her chest and tries again. “He’s always working so god damn late?” She looks to her mother, and Emily, finger on her chin, nods. “Yeah, alright. I hereby decree that Lydia Deetz, at the age of nine and a half, is allowed to say god damn.” Lydia pumps her fist and then takes another huge mouthful of grilled cheese casserole. “Bout fuckin’ time,” BJ grunts. Barbara thinks the Deetz family might all be whack jobs. there's more, a lot more, but tumblr can't handle it all, so read this chapter in full over on Ao3!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #goldenrat #beetlelands #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #emily deetz

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spinsterlocity-writes · 4 years

Text

The Swing of Things

Neal Caffrey x Female Reader

Summary - You and Neal go undercover can you keep it together and not derail the operation.

Word Count - 2,091 words

Warnings - crime, talk of threesomes, unrealistic depiction of FBI procedure and gadgets.

A/N - My best friend, @widdershinny wanted a Neal Caffrey fic for her birthday!

You were sitting at your desk trying to go through some numbers on a mortgage fraud case when you heard the tell tale signs of Neal being bored. Sitting next to Neal was usually fun. He was entertaining and sneaking glances at him throughout the day wasn’t a bad way to pass the time and made your crush on him grow a little each day. The only time sitting near him wasn’t fun was when he was bored, he had the tendency to sulk or or fidget.

The constant snap of Neal picking at his impressive rubber band ball was slowly driving you insane.

“Neal!” You ground out. “Will you stop that, please. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sorry, I’m just so bored,” he sighed.

“Wanna help me with this mortgage fraud case?” You asked hopefully.

“I’m not that bored,” he replied with his nose scrunched up.

Peter called you and Neal from the front of his office.

“Looks like we have a case, you might be saved from your soul crushing boredom, Caffrey.” You smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Let’s hope it’s interesting,” he grinned.

Jones, Diana, and a few other agents were already in the conference room when you arrived with Neal. The grins on Diana and Jones’ faces made you suspicious. You took a seat next to Jones and Neal sat on the window sill close to Peter.

“What’s with the face?” You whispered to Jones.

“Oh, you’re going to love this,” he said, trying his best not to laugh.

“Okay. Neal and Y/N we need your help with a case.” Peter said making his way to the tv screen where a pictures of a woman and a man were displayed.

“This is Miranda Digby and her boyfriend Stephen Arthur,” Peter said.

“Never trust a man with two first names,” Neal deadpanned and you chuckled.

“They’re responsible for blackmailing couples at their swingers club,” Peter continued.

“They get their targets to agree to pay to spend a night with them. When the couples refuse they threaten to post their interest in illicit activities to their social media accounts and inform their employers. They get this information by hacking their victims’ phones while propositioning them. Y/N and Neal, we need you to pose as a couple and get them to make you their next targets,” he concluded.

You coughed as you choked on your spit. “What?!” You asked as you patted your chest, ignoring Jones’ chuckles.

Peter rubbed his forehead and said, “You guys are the only members of the team they haven’t seen. Diana and Jones are already so-called members but Miranda and Stephen didn’t take to them and the agents they were with.”

“You have my sympathies, Y/N. I had to flirt with Caffrey for a case,” she said with a smirk.

“You wound me,” Neal said, placing his hand on his heart.

“We can’t do this without you guys,” Peter said, looking at you earnestly.

“You know no one can say no to you when you look at them like that, right?” You asked, slumping on your chair a little.

“I know, that’s why I do it,” he smiled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Fine,” you replied.

The rest of the day was spent going over the plan to take down Miranda and Stephen and reviewing there membership records. Fake social media accounts, employment and bank records were set up for you and Neal. You were making contact the next night. When the couple tried to blackmail you, Peter and the rest of the team would come in and arrest them.

You entered the infamous van wearing your favorite first date outfit. It flattered your favorite parts and minimized the parts you’re not so happy with. Neal turned as the door opened, his eyes widening slightly.

“You clean up nice,” he grinned.

“I don’t look like a FBI agent when I’m off the clock, Caffrey,” you rolled your eyes.

“You don’t look bad when you’re at work,” he replied. “You just look professional.”

“I hope you have better compliments than that when we’re inside,” you chuckled.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” he said with a dazzling smile

You tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks and gave Neal a once over. He wore a charcoal gray suit, baby blue shirt, and black tie. He looked dashing, as always.

“You look alright too, I guess,” you smirked.

Neal shook his head and chuckled.

Peter handed you an earpiece and a watch with a recording device. “Ready?” He asked.

“Ready,” you nodded once.

“Jones, Diana, and a few other agents are already inside. They’re waiting for my signal to take Stephen and Miranda down. You’ll be fine,” Peter assured you.

“Thanks, boss,” you smirked. Peter rolled his eyes and smiled.

You and Neal exited the van and crossed the street to the club. When you arrived at the front door he placed his hand on the small of your back and your stomach fluttered. This May be harder than I thought you said to yourself. You entered the club and saw people mingling and drinking, nothing suggested the nefarious dealings of the club owners. After you reached the bar and ordered drinks you covertly scanned the room for Miranda and Stephen.

You leaned close to Neal and looked at him lovingly.

“Miranda is on your six,” you said caressing the hair behind his ear.

Neal took your hand resting on the bar and played with your fingers and gave you a soft smile.

“Stephen is on the other side of the room, three o’clock. He looks interested,” he said and moved closer to you.

Neal nuzzled your neck as his hand slid down your back and stopped just above your behind. You gasped as your stomach fluttered again. He looked up, made eye contact with Stephen, and smirked. You felt his heart beating rapidly against you.

“You okay, Caffrey? Your heart’s beating awfully fast,” you whispered.

“I’m fine. My heart always beats a little faster around you,” he pulled back and looked you in the eye. You gulped. “Stephen is signaling Miranda,” he said.

You pushed yourself even closer to him and rested your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind was reeling from his confession and you wondered if it was just part of the act. You raised your head and gave Miranda a shy look. She looked to your left and tilted her head towards you and Neal.

You pulled away from Neal and looked at the floor.

“Miranda just signaled back. Do...do you mean it?” Neal lifted your chin with his index finger and you looked into his eyes.

“Every word,” he replied with a soft smile and ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth to speak but were interrupted by Stephen.

“What a lovely couple,” Stephen gushed as he put a hand on one of your shoulders and the other on Neal’s.

“Absolutely stunning,” Miranda replied and looked you and Neal up and down.

“Thank you,” you said shyly.

“Can we buy you a drink?” Neal asked as he shifted and put his arm around your waist.

“No need, we own the place,” Stephen bragged with a smile. “Your drinks are on us,” he said, removing his hands from your shoulders.

“Thanks so much,” you smiled and batted your eyelashes.

“Yes, thank you. That’s very kind,” Neal smiled.

“I’m Stephen Arthur and this is my other half and business partner, Miranda Digby,” he smiled and shook your hands.

“Pleasure to meet you both! I’m Nick Halden and this is my other half, Amanda Gordon,” Neal beamed.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled.

“Miranda and Amanda! What a pair! I feel like we were destined to meet,” Miranda squealed.

“Would you like to join us somewhere a little quieter so we can get to know each other?” Stephen asked.

You looked at Neal and smiled. “What do you think, honey?”

Neal chuckled and pulled you closer to his side. “It sounds like a party,” He grinned.

Stephen and Miranda led you into a private room. The red walls and low lighting were supposed to ooze sex appeal but to you it just felt sleazy. Stephen and Miranda took a seat in chairs in front of the coffee table and sofa. You and Neal made yourself comfortable on the sofa. You tried not to think of all the disgusting things that may have happened on it.

“So, what brings you here?” Miranda asked as she crossed her legs.

“We heard about this place through word of mouth. We’re new to this and a friend suggested we come here,” Neal said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Oh really, who? Stephen asked as he shifted in his seat.

“Greg Harrison,” Neal smiled.

“How is Greg? He hasn’t been in for a while,” Miranda said.

“He’s fine. He and Ariana found a lovely couple to spend time with,” Neal replied.

“Oh, I’m glad. They are wonderful,” Miranda beamed.

“So, would you mind telling us what you’re interested in,” Stephen asked as he ran his hand up and down Miranda’s thigh.

“Well, Amanda was curious and I like to watch,” Neal said as he caressed your arm.

You were going to kill Neal. You were going to get a snack because operations always made you hungry, then you were going to go to June’s and kill him.

“It’s always the shy ones,” Stephen said and licked his bottom lip.

“So you’ve never done this before,” Miranda asked.

“Not with a couple, no,” Neal smirked.

“He’s watched me with men and women but never a couple. It’s something I’ve been dying to try,” you replied with a sultry look.

Stephen rose from his chair and sat down beside you. “I think that can be arranged,” he said as he ran his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Say when and where,” you replied in a breathy voice and looked down at his lips.

“There’s just one teensy little thing,” Miranda interrupted as she swirled her glass around.

“There is? What?” Neal asked.

“The fee,” Miranda smiled.

“Do you mean membership dues?” You asked.

“There are those and the fee to be with us, specifically,” she replied.

“How much?” Neal asked with an arched eyebrow.

“$20,000. And don’t say you don’t have the money we have all of your bank information,” Miranda sat back in her chair with a smirk.

“What?! How?!” You balked.

“This handy device right here,” Stephen said and pulled some sort of skimmer or cloning device out of his pocket.

“That’s right. Pay up or we inform your bosses and all your little friends on social media about all the naughty things you’re into,” Miranda smirked and crossed her arms.

“Honey,” you looked at Neal and appeared scared out of your mind. “I can’t lose my job! My family follows me on some social media! They can’t find out about this!”

Neal kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Fine, we’ll pay,” he sighed.

Miranda pulled her phone from her purse, entered something and showed the phone to you and Neal to verify your bank details. You both nodded.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said with a cocky smirk.

“FBI, put your hands up!” Diana and Jones yelled as they burst through the door with two other agents.

Stephen and Miranda were marched out of the club. You and Neal followed behind them and the other agents. Once outside you took a deep breath and walked away from the commotion.

“You okay?” Neal asked.

“Yep,” you nodded. “Be honest with me. Did you really mean what you said in there?” You asked, looking Neal in the eye.

“What? That I like to watch?” He asked with a smile.

“Neeaallll. Be serious,” you tried to scold without laughing.

“Okay, okay. Yes. I have a massive crush on you,” he admitted with a small smile.

“Oh,” you replied, looked down at the ground, and rubbed the tip of your shoe along the pavement. “I might just have a massive crush on you too.”

“Really?!” Neal grinned.

“Mhmm.” You shrugged and looked up at him.

“Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You took a deep breath, pretended to think about it, and exhaled.

“I’d love to,” you smiled.

You both walked back towards the van. “We’ll have to look up the policy on co-workers dating while working for the FBI,” Neal said.

“Let’s just see how this first date goes, Caffrey,” you laughed.

#neal caffrey x female reader #neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey fanfiction #white collar fanfiction

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beth-bethar00 · 3 years

Text

Love Blooms Like a Rose

This is my entry for @takuyakistall’s Valentine’s prompts. Sorry it’s so long, my brain went brrrrrrr while writing

Valentine prompt 1: Confession.

Pairing: Beth Brella x Octatrio

Tw: Hanahaki au

It’s been a few months since Beth’s life at Night Raven College began and her meeting the octatrio. At first she was content with the 3 of them being her friends, but lately, she’s noticed that her feelings seemed to have changed towards them. At first she had no idea what these feelings were, but after awhile she understood. What she was feeling, was love. She had fallen in love with all 3 of them at the same time, but instead of happiness, she felt a sense of dread and anxiety. “Do they actually like me that way… W-Would they all be ok with sharing me between the 3 of them…” She’d ask herself while tending to her flowers. After a few minutes she started coughing and after the fit ended, she noticed some petals on the floor. At first she thought nothing of it, that she might’ve just blown some off her flowers from coughing, but then she felt something wet run down the side of her face and grew pale when she wiped it. There on her handkerchief, was a mixture of white and teal flower petals and blood. “O-Oh no… H-Hanahaki… Me of all people to get it… Fate really is cruel…” To which she choked out more petals into her hands and started shaking slightly from the pain that’s starting to form in her chest. She then walked over to her desk to look into her flower journal to find out what flower these petals are from. “L-Lets see…” She flips through the pages, seemingly not having any luck until, “A-Ah…” She at last finds the flower she’s looking for. “C-Christmas rose… Their flower language meaning is… Ah… The irony…” Sensing another painful coughing fit approaching, she quickly moves away from her desk to head to her trash can and hacks up a bunch of petals and an actual whole flower this time. She left the book open on the page, with the meaning of the flower now underlined, ‘anxiety’

It’s now been a few weeks since this all started, and the effects of it are starting to become apparent. Beth’s gotten significantly paler and weaker, she barely seems to be eating, and has been excusing herself more often. And most of all, she has been avoiding Azul, Jade, and Floyd. During times where it’s impossible to avoid the 3 of them she acts really tense and nervous, and right now just happens to be one of those times, as they have her currently cornered in the courtyard. “So, is there a reason why you appear to be avoiding us, Beth-san?” Azul asked, sounding rather concerned given how she currently looks like she’ll keel over at any second. “A-A-Ah… I-I haven’t really been f-feeling that good, a-and I didn’t w-want to get you guys s-sick…” She was hoping this would be convincing enough to get them off her tail, and for the most part it was, until Jade spoke up. “Oya? If you aren’t feeling well, then let us take care of you, the lounge is closed tonight, but we still have some things we need to take care of there. You may stay with us during this time” “I-I don’t w-want to impose-” Beth attempted to stutter out before getting cut off by Azul, “Please, we insist you do” Azul was giving her that smile. That dang smile that causes her heart to race a mile a minute and turn her brain temporarily to mush, That smile that caused her to stutter out, “W-Well… A-Alright…” “Wonderful! We’ll see you there after school.” And with that, the 3 of them headed off to their next class. Once they were out of earshot, Beth doubled over in pain over a bush and painfully choked out a bunch of christmas roses, their white and teal hues hidden by both the bushes and her own blood. Once she had recovered enough, she headed off to her next class as well.

Classes had finally ended, and Beth was heading back to change into her dorm uniform, only to be dragged off to mostro lounge by Floyd the second she steps through the mirror. “W-Wha?! A-At least let m-me change into my dorm clothes f-first..!” She stuttered out, surprised by Floyd dragging her off. “Nope~ Azul’s orders. He wanted you to come straight over, men-dako-chan, and told me to get you.” He happily says before he notices something about her. “Eh..? You usually feel way stronger than this usually, normally you’d have some resistance to my pulling you like this, but right now you feel like a wet noodle! Aha~! You must be really sick…” Floyd’s face quickly changes between amusement and concern as he talks on the way over there, as he notices that Beth’s starting to shake and appears to be in a lot of pain. “M-Men-dako-chan..? You aren’t looking too hot, hang on…” To which he immediately picked her up in a bridal carry and practically ran the rest of the way there, he yelled for Azul and Jade as he burst through the door. She could clearly sense the amount of distress he seemed to be in as he ran over and set her down on one of the lounge couches. She could feel another coughing fit coming and tries to head to the bathroom, only to be pushed back onto the couch by Floyd as Azul and Jade run out from the vip room. By the time the 2 reach her she’s unable to hold the coughing back anymore and choked out a whole bunch of flowers in front of the 3 of them, stunning the 3 males for a while as she rode out the incredibly painful coughing fit.

The room was silent for a bit before Jade finally managed to speak up. “Hanahaki… How long have you…?” “A-A few weeks now… I.. I didn’t want to worry any of you.. I-I’m sorry..” She was shaking and refused to make eye contact with any of them, instead she was staring down at the pile of bloody flowers underneath her. Jade seemed to be staring at the flowers, as if he was analyzing them, before finally saying. “Christmas roses… Are you perhaps anxious about love or who you love not returning your affections? There are other cures for this, you know…” Beth remained silent for a bit before finally saying, “... I’d rather die than lose my memories of you three…” Which once again shocked the 3 of them before they happened to notice the colors of the flowers, which looked exactly like their hair colors and that’s when it clicked. She was anxious about whether they’d accept her love.

Azul was the first to act. He walked over to the couch and sat next to her, put his hand under her chin and gently tilted her face towards his own, and leaned in to kiss her. She went wide eyed for a moment before melting into the kiss. It didn’t last long, however, before Floyd pulled her away and mashed his lips onto hers, almost hungrily. She was still reeling from Azul’s kiss and immediately melted into Floyd’s kiss as well. It took Azul to pry him off of her. “Aha~ You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that, Beth~” For once he didn’t use the nickname her gave her, and that could only mean one thing, He was being serious.

But it wasn’t until that moment that the 3 of them noticed something. Jade was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve slipped away while Azul and Floyd were busy kissing Beth. “D-Did he really just up and leave like that..? That’s low, even for him…” Azul said, with a tint of anger and concern in his voice. He was deep in thought, only coming out of it when he heard the sound of Beth being pulled over the back of the couch, earning a surprised look from him and Floyd. ‘E-Eep..! Mmph!” This caused the both of them to look over the couch and now they look even more surprised now. There, sitting against the back of the couch, was Jade. He had both his arm and legs wrapped around Beth and was kissing her rather passionately.

This went on for a minute before Azul decided to break it up by saying, “Oya, get a room you lovebirds.~ Fufu~” Which seemed to make him promptly stop the kiss and look away, and for once, all 3 of them could see Jade blushing, bright red as a matter of fact. Thankfully for him, Floyd decide to speak up and it caused the attention to be shifted away from his embarrassed blushing. “Nee nee, you don’t need to be afraid anymore, right Beth? All 3 of us love you a lot!” “It’s true. You mean the world to us Beth-san. We couldn’t think of anyone else we’d rather spend the rest of our lives with. So please… Be our angelfish.” Azul said, and from his tone of voice, it sounded sincere and it caused her to smile softly. “I’d like nothing more..~ The 3 of you mean so much to me.. A-Ah.. T-The pain in my chest, i-it’s fading..? A-Am I cured..?” Hearing this caused the 3 of them to smile. Azul and Floyd then got off the couch to cuddle with Beth and Jade, and the 4 of them stayed like this for the rest of the night. And for the next few days worked tirelessly to nurse Beth back to full health.

The End

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #twst oc #twst oc beth brella #hanahaki #JustJadelentines2021

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turnaboutimagines · 4 years

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Hey I really liked the hananaki disease one shots,, do you think you could write an alternate ending for them where the reader recovers? As much as I love angst I also love happy endings, I hope it’s not too much to ask!💕

That’s very valid, pal! These are honestly just alternative versions that can stand on their own, more than an alternative ending. The language in this is just as flowery too though because it’s fun to write. ;-) Similar situations to the OG post, but the boys get their happy endings here.[The OG Post, is ANGST and features both Reader death and major character death.]Content Warning: Mentions of coughing up flower petals with blood and pain as per Hanahaki Disease’s premise (tl;dr, you start coughing up flower petals that slowly gets worse due to unrequited love.)

Miles Edgeworth.

It’s hard not to fall in love with Miles Edgeworth. While he may remain oblivious to it, you see the longing looks people give him and hear the hopeful flirtations in their voices. But you know him too well, better than any of them, and watch all of their hopes wilt.

He’s not malicious, you know, but relationships… well, he doesn’t think they’re his style and romance in general is a ‘nebulous concept’ to him. You’ve heard as much for yourself over late night cups of tea. “You aren’t missing out on much,” you’d laughed at the time and earned a rare, appreciative smile in return.

It’s the kind of smile that made warmth blossom in your chest, longing for seeing more such smiles on him. Happiness and acceptance truly do suit him well, he deserves them and so much more. And you want to continue to help provide those things for him to the best of your ability at his side as he continues to move forward.

You just happened to get unlucky that evening, finally coughing up a white rose petal flecked with crimson blood. You’d spent too many evenings with him, bonding over tea and games of chess… You’d fallen too deeply and there was no going back.

You resign yourself to your fate. He’s worth it, even if your wish won’t be able to come true.

The thorns dig into your lungs more with each breath and flurries of petals now coming up instead of just the single ones… It all points to one fact: Your time’s running out. So, you choose to spend as much of your time with him as you can. Perhaps it’s selfish of you, knowing that it’ll hurt him all the more when you’re suddenly gone. Yet he’s looking so haggard from how hard he’s running himself in the name of his work, it’s hard to stay away from him when you can be there with him to encourage him to take breaks and eat well.

It’s a good way to spend your final days, at his side as you try and make him as happy as you can—wanting to see more of his elusive smile before you go.

You just so happen to get unlucky once again on one such evening, it happens while you’re playing a chess match with him as you discuss each of your days. The coughing fit descends upon you too quickly.

You can only cough into your hand, wrapping your fingers around the red and white petals stained with your blood to hide them from view. It’s a good thing, too, because by the time you’ve cleared your lungs, his hand’s on your shoulder as he looms over you—worried.

“Are you all right?”

You’re tired, you realize as you stare up at him with the proof of your illness in hand. More importantly, you decide on a whim that he deserves the warning. You unfurl your fingers and hold up your palm to him, refusing to meet his eyes as regret quickly blooms in your chest. He grows as pale as a lily, eyes flickering nervously between you and the petals while his grip on your shoulder turns into a death grip.

“…Who is it?”

You spare a sad smile in his direction, torn between not wanting to place this particular burden on him, but also not wanting to lie to him. You’d already done enough damage with your first impulsive action, another one may break him.

“Please… tell me. I need to know.”

He releases your shoulder and instead hesitantly places a finger underneath your chin, tilting your face toward him to make you look at him. You’ve never seen this expression on his face before, there’s a strange combination of hope and dread he presses the issue. It’s all it takes to crumble your resolve…

“You, Miles.”

The single word hangs in the air.

He laughs, equal parts disbelief and relief with a light wheeze making it rough around the edges. You can only blink up at him, shocked at hearing such a sound come from him (as adorable as it is), but especially in this context. He clears his throat, a crimson blush spread across his cheeks as he averts his gaze and crosses his arms back over his chest.

“Ngh, I, um, apologize.” He looks back to you, gaze intense as ever as his finger taps nervously at the crook of his elbow. “I just… recently, I’ve… also had it… because of you.”

“Because of…?”

When the realization hits, you don’t hesitate pull him down to your level by his cravat and capture his lips in a gentle first kiss. He freezes for a moment, but quickly relaxes into it as his lips fumble a bit awkwardly against yours.

You both smile into it, not minding the slight metallic taste in the slightest.

Phoenix Wright.

Phoenix never fails to make you laugh or feel special, drawing you helplessly into his gravitational pull of non-stop trouble as he does with so many. The way he looks at you shines with life and his smile is pure and utter sunlight. Everything feels different with him, more vivid and just… special. There’s simply no other word that will do for him.

You’re just friends, though. Or you were. Now, you’re best friends and always will be… which is even worse.

Yet he says as much with such brilliant happiness that it should make you feel warm, too. But it doesn’t. Each time he says that dreaded word, it feels like a cold shadow’s cast over your heart.

It should be enough to prevent anything from growing, but… it isn’t. Not for you at least. These cursed feelings have only flourished in-spite of it until they came to bloom in a violent fit of coughing. The single yellow petal, long and slender, stares up at you from its place on your desk—the red drops around it reminding you of what is to come.

However, it is not yourself that you think of first, but Phoenix. Perhaps it’s because the sunflower petal reminds you of him or, maybe, you truly have fallen in too deep.

As hard as it is, you tear yourself out of his orbit, wanting to minimize the damage you do when you disappear from his life. You want to preserve that precious smile of his as best you can and that means absolving him of any guilt he may feel from learning the truth.

The yellow petals are coming more frequently, now in clusters, and you can feel the stalks taking hold in your lungs—breathing is becoming harder with each passing day. Perhaps that’s why you finally respond to one of Phoenix’s texts and agree to stop by the office to have a talk. He never gave up on trying to contact you…as lucky or unlucky as that may be.

It’s at least an opportunity to grant him some closure. A proper goodbye. You should give him that much… it’s kinder in the long run.

Yet it’s excruciating for you, just sitting beside him on the sofa. There’s no light in his eyes or beaming smile on his face, then, and his hands are jammed into his pockets. He’s worried and it’s all because of you.

But it’s kinder in the long run.

“Why have you been avoiding me lately?”

“…I’ve just been busy. It’s got nothing to do with you.” A lie said with a smile is still a lie,

He purses his lips, eyes darting around you at invisible objects. And he is.

The magatama… you’d caught him using it before and he’d trusted you enough to tell you about it. He doesn’t need it to know you’re lying though, he knows you too well, but still… you can’t help but bristle at it.

“Phoenix—”

“—Please, you know you can tell me anything. Just… don’t lie to me. Not about something this serious, especially if I’ve done something wrong.”

“I… you haven’t done anything, Phoenix.”

He frowns at you and takes your nearest hand, making your heart lurch its way into your throat. “Then… what is it?”

“I—”

“—can’t tell you,” is what you want to say. But you choke over your words, face losing all its color as you seize up. You hear him call your name with worry, but you descend into a coughing fit and hack up another cluster of yellow petals into your hand. There’s no point in hiding them.

He stares at the yellow petals in growing horror, too clever for his own good as he rapidly connects the dots.

“…that’s why.” You work up your courage and smile at him. “Because I love you romantically, Phoenix… not platonically.”

Suddenly, you’re pulled into a tight embrace, and after a few moments you hear him sniffle quietly. You sigh and try and reach around to rub his back to comfort him, but your hands trapped firmly in-between your chests.

“I love you, too. Romantically.” He tightens his grip around you further. “I realized and I’ve been meaning to tell you, but you’ve been… avoiding me.”

Now it’s your turn to make the connections.

“You…you’re not just… saying that, are you?”

It would be just like him to try and pull something like that just to try and save your life, trying to bluff his way into requiting your romantic feelings… his loyalty is one of the many things you love about him, though.

He pulls back and shakes his head, looking serious. “I wouldn’t bluff about something like that… and let me present some evidence on the matter.”

The smile returns to his face as he closes the distance between the two of you and steals a kiss.

His lips feel so soft and warm and you can’t help but melt into it as the flowers within you wither.

#miles edgeworth x reader #miles edgeworth imagine #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright x reader #phoenix wright imagine #phoenix wright #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney imagines #ace attorney #my writing #hanahaki disease #fluff #also am i projecting onto miles a bit here? ABSOLUTELY #ALDSJFADSKLJF I KEEP MAKING WORTH PUNS #I DON'T EVEN MEAN TO ANYMORE #this ended up being twice as long as i meant it to be rip #Anonymous

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flowerbinniee · 4 years

Text

et sanguinem flos petalis [ii] [rewritten] - peter parker

title: et sanguinem flos petalis

summary: first loves are never easy, especially when they have the power to kill you.

pairing: one-sided peter x reader, peter x mj

word count: 1408

warning(s): swearing, blood, dying character, angst, the hanahaki au no one asked for.

a/n: i promise that i didn’t forget about this series. life has just been really busy as of late. i wanted to tweak this a bit and repost it, so i was happy with it.

a/n 2: part three is coming soon! hopefully by this weekend.

Around dinner time is when the burning sensation started. You’re helping your mother with dinner and chatting with her, chopping a carrot while she cooks some seasoned chicken breast in a pan. The first few petals out of your mouth don’t really concern you, but the fistfuls of them that follow do. Covering your mouth with your hand, you heave out a harsh cough to expel the petals clogging your lungs. Tiny splatters of blood, petals, and the overwhelming feeling of ican’tbreathe comes back with your hand. Then, the coughing becomes harsher, less voluntary. You’re not coughing to scratch an itch in your throat, you’re coughing because you’re struggling to breathe. The more you cough, the less air you can take in. You feel like you’re drowning and there’s nothing to pull you up.

“Mom,” you croak to her in between coughs, knife placed on the counter next to the cutting board. “M-Mom, call an am-ambul—” She turns around because of the abnormal commotion coming from your side of the kitchen, and her eyes grow owlish.

“Oh my God, Y/N! Baby,” she places a hand on your back to rub soothing circles into your spine as you hack up more petals. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” Shaking your head, your watering eyes scan the best they can across the kitchen, and you point insistently to her cell phone. She seems to get the hint because she dashes to it, dialing for an ambulance as your body grows weaker.

“I-I need an ambulance right away. My daughter is coughing up blood and rose petals.” She waits for the operator to ask her more questions before she speaks again. “She does have Hanahaki, yes. She’s had it officially for almost two years now.”

That’s the last thing you hear her say before the dizziness becomes too strong and you collapse into the tile floor. The most coherent thought your mind whispers before the darkness swallows you is why.

;

Peter knows that something has to go wrong or will go wrong eventually. The universe has been too kind to him in the past two weeks. It’s like something he learned in his AP Psych class, regression to the mean. The basic principle is that life is never all good or all bad; there has to be even distribution of both. If mostly bad things have been happening, good things will eventually come to you. If mostly good things have been happening, then… You get the idea. Peter has been on his toes waiting for the bad to start biting him in the ass.

Little did he expect that the bad he was anticipating would come in the form of his ex-girlfriend. It was an unusually calm Friday night, and May was out with Happy for the evening. He’d been scrolling through the list of channels aimlessly to find something remotely intriguing when he hears a light, hesitant knock at his front door. Making his way to the door from the couch and opening it, he was surprised to see MJ on the other side.

“MJ,” he breathes, a confused smile pulling at his lips. Her own smile is much more strained, anguished.

“Hey,” is all she says, all she can think to say, while she plays with the ends of her hair. “May here?”

The brunette teen shakes his head. “Nah, just me. Wanna come in?” She nods, and he moves aside to let her pass. She sits on the couch next to the spot he’d just occupied and stares at the coffee table as if it’s the most elegant piece of furniture she’s seen. “How have you been?”

She looks up at her former love and sends him one of her infamous half-smirks. “About as good as I can be considering the current circumstances.” Peter chuckles lightly and bobs his head in agreement.

“Yeah. It’s not what normal high school couples have to go through.”

“Well, one half of said couple is a world-renowned superhero,” she lightly teases. For just a moment, it felt like they were back to how they were a few weeks ago—when everything was easier.

“I wish it didn’t have to end the way it did,” he tells her, sighing in defeat. “If I could go back and change it, I would.”

“I know you would,” she assures. “But we needed to do it to save Y/N.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” He addresses the elephant in the room. “What if we try everything we can but it ends up blowing back in our faces?”

“Then, we’ll find another way to handle it. We always do.” She reaches over to squeeze his hand in comfort. Nodding again, he exhales long through his nose.

“I miss you,” he quietly confesses.

“Miss you, too, Pete. Really wish things were different.” He hums in agreement. She can’t force her eyes away from him. She so desperately wants to go back, to have him be hers again. But she can’t, not with Y/N’s life in jeopardy. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to her friend because of her.

To this day, MJ still doesn’t know what possessed her to ruin everything. It had to either be her fierce want for normalcy or her all-consuming love for Peter. One minute, they’re talking as two, albeit awkward, friends, and the next, she’s kissing him.

It’s obvious that Peter is trying to be a good boyfriend to Y/N by not kissing MJ back, but the feeling of familiarity and security that comes with kissing MJ causes him to cave. He cups her cheek and pulls her back against his lips. They stay like that, lips pressed together with hands in hair and on hips, for what feels like an eternity before they regain their senses.

Peter pulls away first, his lips slightly swollen. “That… That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know,” MJ admits guiltily. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, MJ,” he tries to reassure her. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But I want it to mean everything, she silently protests to herself.

The loud ringtone coming from Peter’s back pocket startles them out of their moment. Pulling out the device, he raises a puzzled eyebrow and presses the green ACCEPT button.

“Y/N?”

“Peter, it’s Y/M/N,” your mother whispers, trying to keep her voice even. “I, um, I need you to get to Bellevue as quickly as you possibly can.”

“Bellevue? Why, what’s going on?” Pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear, he quickly pulls on his coat. “Is Y/N okay?”

“It’s gotten worse, her Hanahaki. They’re performing emergency surgery on her to get the roses out,” she sniffles. “The doctor doesn’t think she’ll make it.”

Tears sting the back of his eyes, and he takes in a trembling breath. He didn’t want to have to tell Y/N’s mother that he was the one to make the Hanahaki worse. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I’ll, uh, be there as soon as I can.”

He and Y/M/N said their goodbyes, and he dejectedly sighs. MJ takes a cautious step toward him, fearing the worst. “What’s up?”

“That was Y/N’s mom. Y/N’s having the surgery, and there’s a chance that she won’t make it.”

;

The scary thing about death, you learn, is not the idea of being gone forever. Or not seeing the people you love anymore. While those are downsides, the aspect that terrified you the most is the thought of being forgotten, the knowledge that your friends and family will eventually be happy without you.

“Heart rate is dropping,” the nurse on right reports to the doctor leading your gurney. “Blood pressure is eighty over fifty.”

“Peter,” you mumble as another droplet of blood fell from the side of your mouth. “Mom, I need Peter.”

“He’s on his way, baby.” She whispers to you as the nurse closest to you gingerly slips an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth. There are petals scattered around the areas of the gurney closer to each side of your mouth. She then rubs an alcohol wipe on your upper before sticking you with a needle. A soft wince escapes you, and you relax so she can remove the needle. “He’ll be waiting for you when you get out of surgery.”

You nod sleepily, letting the anesthesia seep into your bloodstream and wrap you in the warmth of unconsciousness.

#emmy writes 🎶#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker angst #peter parker series #part three coming soon #i promise #i'm working on it as we speak

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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and when it’s hard i'll place your head into my hands

Adzri, Alec and Seregil's daughter, falls ill with a summer fever, sending both of her fathers frantic. Even as Alec tries to be strong, he realises it's stirring memories he'd thought he'd buried

Please leave a comment on Ao3 and reblog if you like this! And I’m always accepting requests!

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Alec didn’t need the talímenios bond to read the anguish on Seregil’s face as soon as the chamber door closed behind them. It only meant he felt it too, a roiling, panicked pressure to thrash in his chest next to his own.

“Talí…” he murmured gently, moving immediately to hold him, “It’ll be alright.”

Seregil’s body moved to be held and hold in return but there was something mechanical about it, some missing part that made it clear his mind was elsewhere. Probably back behind the door they’d just closed, lost in the sickly miasma of illness that had invaded their daughter’s bedroom.

“Valerius said the poultice would help her breathing,” he mumbled, distress cracking the edges of his voice, “He said.”

“I know. And it will, given some time to work,” he put a confidence he didn’t truly feel in his voice, knowing his lover needed to hear it.

It had been harrowing, their little five year old girl crying fitfully at the dull green paste of crushed herbs applied to her chest, only able to sob weakly and croak that it was burning her nose. Seregil had turned away at one point, shoulders tight and tense as he faced the thick, dense summer night outside the window, leaving Alec to finish the job, murmuring soothingly to Adzri as best he could. Watching her cry herself back into a feverish sleep, still not understanding why he wasn’t listening to her had completed the breaking of his heart.

“She’s hurting, Alec,” Seregil whispered, voice raw, and if there had been any part left unshattered, those words did it.

“It’s just a summer fever, talí, I promise. It will break and she’ll be right as rain, back to running around and making our lives absolute chaos.”

The attempt at humour landed as thinly as it had sounded. They were both keenly aware that, for some, the old and young and vulnerable, summer fevers didn’t just fade. They burned and consumed the person from the inside out, racing their heart until it simply couldn’t hold any more. And while Adzri was hale and healthy, as robust as any child with scarecrows like Seregil and Alec for fathers could be, she was frighteningly young.

Alec had been holding himself together as much as he could since Adzri had started to flag just a few days earlier, starting to hack and cough and vomit in the night, as her skin turned a burning red, he’d told himself that Seregil needed him to be strong every bit as much as their daughter did.

But every time he closed his eyes, he felt like a boy again, watching his father waste away and not being able to do a bloody thing about it. The fear he tasted on his tongue was wretchedly familiar.

He shoved the thought roughly away and focused on Seregil, his tense shoulders and how he trembled in his embrace. He couldn’t fall apart now, not with his talímenios about to break in front of him.

“Come, love, you need to rest,” he whispered, kissing his cheek which tasted of salt.

That was terrifying in itself, a bitter counterpoint to the fear on his tongue. He could count on both hands the amount of times Seregil had shed tears in front of him. Though it was an increasing count, since the winter morning when he’d held her for the first time and promptly burst into tears in front of everyone in attendance, most of whom had known him for decades and had never once seen him cry.

“We should have stayed in Bôkthersa,” Seregil murmured, bitter guilt heavy in his voice, “She never once got sick when we were there and then as soon as we came back here…”

Alec sighed, again not needing the bond to feel what his lover was feeling. They’d been welcomed back to Bôkthersa with open arms, tears and relief so their daughter could be born where Seregil had been, in the same room no less, and they’d lived there for some time until she and Alec were strong enough to make the sea journey back. They’d managed to feel like a family, like part of the clan and that shared history. They’d even had a small ceremony, just amongst Seregil’s immediate family, finally making good on the promise held within the rings they’d been wearing, the promise to live as husbands no matter what the law said.

But the sweetness of those long, sunny years only made saying goodbye again even harder. And Seregil was acutely aware that they had to leave because of him, because of the mistakes that still haunted him even after so much hard won change. There was only so much time they could spend as Bôkthersans before other faie would take notice, before they would be reminded of the severing that had taken place. And there was no guarantee it would be a polite reminder.

“Rhíminee is our home,” Alec said gently, wishing more than anything he could pull out the knife of guilt Seregil still felt in his side, “We had to come back some time. Seregil, please, don’t think this is your fault.”

Seregil sighed, eyes far away, both of them well aware he wouldn’t make a promise to his love that he couldn’t keep, “I should stay by her...in case she wakes up…”

“You have been, talí,” Alec reminded him, “For three days straight. And Valerius was just as clear in his instructions for you as he was for Adzri.”

“He said to check her temperature regularly!” Seregil protested, even as the shadows under his eyes looked hollow in the candlelight and his eyes struggled to focus.

“I’ll do it,” Alec said firmly, “I slept last night, it’s your turn now. You promised me, Seregil.”

Beaten, Seregil wavered, though his eyes shone in the candles they’d left burning through the long hot nights as the house had stayed restless.

“I know, my love,” Alec moved up to cradle his face in his hands, “Believe me, I know. But you can’t help her by running yourself into the ground. You’ve done all you can, now we have to wait, as painful as it is. And you may as well do it by getting some sleep.”

Seregil took a shaky breath, now leaning into Alec’s warmth, letting himself take the comfort now with full awareness, “I just can’t bear it. Seeing this hurt her and knowing we can’t fix it.”

“Because we love her,” Alec nodded, resting their foreheads together, “And that’s going to get her through this.”

Seregil nodded slowly, “Very well...I’ll sleep but you’ll wake me at dawn? Or if anything changes?”

“Of course,” Alec promised, sending him off to their chamber just next door to Adzri’s with a last kiss, “I love you, talí.”

“I love you too,” Seregil murmured softly, eyes still sad and worn as he closed the door but there was a slight glimmer of hope under it all, one he’d managed to put back there.

Alec’s relief and triumph lasted all the way until their chamber door closed and he heard the sound of his husband sinking, fully clothed into bed. And then there was nothing but fear in its wake.

He was silent as he stepped back into his daughter’s bedroom, not wanting to wake her, and slid back into the chair that had been keeping an anxious vigil by her bedside since she took ill. It was dark, they’d extinguished all the candles and drew the curtains after it became clear the light was hurting her eyes, but it was only a few moments before his eyes found shapes in the shadows.

She was so beautiful. He was struck by that thought so much, even after years of being her father. Of course the first thing he always saw in her face was Seregil, just as his talímenios always claimed to see him. It was the long, thin nose and the sharp angles that he saw, the messily falling dark curls, the intelligence in her eyes. Though her eyes were closed now, her cheeks red with the fever, her breathing shallow and raspy, a hollow sound in the heavy shadows. Her little chest barely rose and fell, there was hardly movement in the blankets they’d wrapped her in as she lay in the middle of her little bed.

In the silence, pierced by that awful sound of illness that Alec dreaded hearing but dreaded not hearing even more wholly, he couldn’t keep the memories away anymore. Once again he was a much younger man and the shape in front of him wasn’t his daughter. The laboured breathing was deeper but no less sickly, whistling through a much older chest. And instead of the heavy, oppressive heat of a Rhíminee summer, it was so, so cold, a bleak Northern winter.

Once again he was sixteen and he was watching his father die.

All alone and without his husband to comfort, the creeping sense of helplessness set in. Here again was something he couldn’t shoot or snare or beat back with a sword, something invisible and malicious and omnipotent, sliding out one of the linchpins of his life and leaving him reeling. Once again he felt small and naive, an insignificant speck in the middle of a white, empty forest, tears freezing on his cheeks as he vainly tried to light a fire, unable to get so much as a spark.

And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Not her too, he begged silently, as tears began to slide heavily down his cheeks, please, not her too.

All the growing he’d done, the love he’d found, the battles he’d won, what did it really mean if he couldn’t save the people he cared about?

“Alec?”

He jumped, suddenly unaware of how much time had passed, how long he’d been sat in his daughter’s bedroom and in the middle of a Northern forest at the same time, as both a terrified child and a terrified father. But Seregil was in the doorway, easier to see than he should have been at night. Some pale, grey light was filtering through behind him, light that had to be dawn’s.

“Seregil,” he croaked, voice cracking with disuse.

“Oh, talí…” Seregil kept his voice soft but the emotion in it was obvious as he moved towards him, putting his hands on Alec’s shoulders, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think once how this must be making you feel, given everything.”

Whether it was the bond or his panic attack had been that obvious on his face, it was clear Seregil knew what was going on in his mind.

“We’ve both had a lot on our minds…” he murmured, shaking his head, Seregil blaming himself the last thing he wanted, “Adzriel…”

“I should have thought,” Seregil insisted, “I should have comforted you rather than just…”

“Talí, please no,” Alec turned, needing his eyes to find his lover’s, “You could just as easily say I should have told you. And you needed me then, I’m never going to regret giving you comfort when you needed it.”

Seregil let it go but his eyes were still concerned. He did look like he had at least gotten some sleep, his hair was matted on one side and the shadows under his eyes had lessened.

“You don’t talk about your father much, talí,” he murmured, still keeping his voice low, to not wake Adzri, and his tone careful.

Alec shifted, biting his lip slightly, “I...I know I must make him sound cold but my whole childhood, he was the only constant. Some days it would feel he was the only other person in the world. He...he was my world.”

Seregil nodded slowly, hand gently stroking over his hair.

“And watching him die was...difficult,” it wasn’t a large enough word for it but he couldn’t find a right one in the moment, “And afterwards, until I met you, I felt so alone. And now, seeing her like this, it…”

His throat closed again, not in the tight, frozen panic way of before, but in the more natural way of tears being released.

“Because she’s my world too. And I don’t know what I’m going to do if I ever lose her.”

Now it was Seregil’s turn to hold him, his arms strong and safe around his shoulders as he cried quietly against his stomach. He didn’t need much, strange for years of hidden hurt, but Alec was glad the quiet shuddering had stopped so he could hear what happened next.

“Papa? Daddy?”

Both of them immediately jumped as if poked with a sword, whirling around. Adzri sat up in bed, rubbing at her eyes. Her voice was still a little raspy but she hadn’t been so alert in more than a day, her eyes so wide and aware.

“Sweetling,” Alec gasped, lurching forward to feel her forehead. Damp and clammy but perfectly cool.

“Oh, Adzriel,” Seregil moved to sit at her feet, eyes wide with relief, “Oh, look at you. How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” she decided after some thought, her chubby little hand moving under her nightdress to her chest, where the poultice had dried and cracked, “Itchy.”

“Of course,” Seregil laughed, taking her in his arms and holding her tight, “Breakfast and a bath, then. You can have whatever you want.”

Adzri blinked, smiling hopefully, “Cake?”

“Sure,” Seregil shook with either relieved weeping or helpless laughter, even he seemed unsure, “Why not? Cake for breakfast. Aura knows we’ve earned it.”

Alec smiled, taking a moment to watch them both and let the relief course through him and chase the last of the fear away, before he moved in to share the embrace.

He hadn’t seen Amasa smile often, only on the brightest of autumn mornings or when Alec landed a shot or upon hearing the first of the starlings singing. But he could well imagine he was smiling now.

#nightrunners #alec i amasa #seregil i korit #seregil x alec #alec x seregil #stag and otter #sickfic #dads au #please comment!

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

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As The Dust Settles: Chapter 17 (Dabi X fem!Geten Slowburn)

Chapter 17: A Frozen Heart

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Long chapter ahead btw. 2.8k.

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For fifteen minutes, Dabi watched the broken, unconscious form of Geten breathe, every inhalation causing a shudder to ripple through her body. Every time she made a hacking cough, blood spurted from her mouth, making his fists clench tighter and his teeth grind against one another with building rage. Ten minutes in, he reduced Takame’s corpse to ashes to vent some feelings.

That was all he could do. He couldn’t move her because of all the broken bones and fractures. The one thing he could was to shift her head an inch, to ensure she didn’t choke on her blood.

All he could do was wait. The throbbing pain in his arms from blocking that hit was nothing compared to the pain in his chest at seeing her on the verge of death, enduring a merciless pummel that she didn’t deserve.

He felt like every breath he took injected him with even more fury that he wanted to scream, to let the world know he wanted to burn it all.

Stupid girl. Why can’t you see that you never belonged to the MLA? Why are you getting yourself killed for them?

Geten shuddered as she coughed out more blood that stained the rusty containers’ surface. Dabi tore his eyes away. You could have stopped Takame before he went after her. You’re weak.

Wasn’t my fault I got sent on this damn assignment, he argued on instinct.

He paused, feeling his conviction disappear upon seeing Geten’s state. He ignited his arm, feeling the fiery torture wrack his already fractured limb. It didn’t expunge the guilt, but he liked to think that it could, somehow.

Did Shigaraki know, sending two people whose quirks don’t work well against him?

He was confronting Shigaraki when they got back, that was for sure. But for now, his attention was drawn to her.

Is her breathing slowing? Shit.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling helpless, so utterly helpless. C’mon, girl, don’t die on me. Please.

When he opened them, he saw two figures rushing towards them. He recognised one of them as the soldier who had welcomed them at the airport.

“Help her first, I’m good.” He said as he extinguished his punishment. The two of them nodded. One of them stepped forward to lay a hand on Geten.

Dabi slapped it away with a glare. “Are you an idiot? She’s in no state to be carried.”

The soldier gave a patient smile. “I’m not moving her. My special ability can teleport people to a nearby location I’m familiar with by being in physical contact. We’re bringing the both of you back to the airport where Compress will take you back to Deika.”

“Ah,” Dabi said, leaning back, “My bad.”

With one hand each, the soldier touched each of their shoulders, while the other companion laid a hand on him. The teleporter closed his eyes.

In the next few seconds, Dabi felt a light tugging sensation, definitely smoother than the gunky horridness that was the Doctor’s method. The next moment, he found himself back at the airport on solid ground.

“Keep her spine in line,” Dabi ordered, and the two obeyed, gingerly holding Geten in place. “How long till Compress gets here?”

“ETA ten minutes,” The teleporter announced. Dabi swallowed – If he doesn’t get here on time...

The night was quiet and of a cool temperature, but Dabi was still sweating, and the serenity of this scene was destroyed by the haggard breaths Geten was drawing. He kept looking at the sky, trying to spot a black dot in the darkness. When a seeming eternity had passed feeling more anxious by the minute, he saw it, illuminated by red lights.

He heard the whirring sounds of the chopper as it closed in and landed. Dabi spotted the familiar orange-brown coat and the black hat of Atsuhiro Sako, and a painful smile of relief tugged at his lip.

One thing Dabi liked about Compress was that despite his showman persona, he didn’t mince words, or speak when there was no need to. Sako raced out of the aircraft, compressed Geten and pocketed her.

“You need me to do you, too?” Sako asked him.

Dabi shook his head. “Let’s go. Thanks, you two.” He acknowledged the soldiers, who bowed in return and left. The two Lieutenants climbed into the helicopter and the pilot lifted off.

“No headsets? I’m not going deaf here,” Dabi shouted over the whirring.

“Chill, the pilot has a noise-cancelling quirk. He’ll activate it soon.” As Compress said this, the ruckus disappeared, as if they were back on the jet. Another pang of hurt poked at Dabi, thinking about his nonchalance at the start of the mission.

“You look like hell.” Compress noted Dabi’s arms and the dust and grime on his coat.

“Yeah. Assignment was harder than we thought.”

“I presumed much. Who was it?”

“One of the advisors in my regiment, and his daughter.”

Dabi heard the surprise in Sako’s tone. “Oh, Skeptic’s gonna go mental. Not that he already isn’t.”

That got a chuckle out of Dabi, but it died as he thought about the damage Takame had done.

“But you guys finished the mission, right?” Compress asked.

Looking out the window at the night sky, he muttered, “Yeah.”

“You didn’t throw her under the bus, did you?”

Dabi’s head flicked back to face Compress. “What the hell, no! Why would I?”

The performer raised his arms to placate his anger. “Sorry, last time you talked about her, you were ready to kill her or whatever’s in your head. You mean to say that you guys are on good terms now?”

Dabi sighed. “I just don’t hate her. And I have no reason to let her die. Shigaraki wouldn’t be happy.” He added as an afterthought.

He gave a tiny sigh. “Well, I’m sure you have a thrilling story of how you two managed to get to this state.”

“We definitely do,” Dabi said dryly.

“Tell us all about it tomorrow. Go get some sleep tonight. The doctor has a cell activation quirk, he’ll fix you up first, then her.”

“No, get her first. I’ll wait.”

“Fine,” Compress relented after seeing the adamant expression on Dabi’s face. “You’re really...concerned for her. It’s weird.”

Dabi replied with a yawn.

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The doctor flipped through his clipboard. “Multiple fractures on her arms, five broken ribs, dislocated jaw and she suffered a skull fracture.”

“But you fixed all of it...right?” There was an undertone of a “You better have.” that the doctor understood, given the reassuring smile he wore at Dabi’s question. He was getting sick of people trying to calm him down with smiles, like that would help.

“I used my ability as best as I could, and it fixed most of it, but I only sped up the recovery of the cell reparations. We’ll be providing iron and calcium supplements to help her along, but she’ll be bedridden for the next few days.”

“Any permanent damage?”

“As long as she gets enough rest and doesn’t exert herself, she’ll be fine and back to normal in a few weeks.”

Dabi exhaled. “Alright. Thanks doc.”

Dr Shimano nodded and left the room. Dabi looked at Geten, whose chest rose and fell at a stable pace as she slept, no longer shaking, a significant improvement from just an hour ago.

“Sorry Geten,” He said. “I fucked up.”

As the words left his mouth, he took a second to realise what he had just said. He blinked. When did I start caring so much?

The air-conditioned room and the leather chair he was seated on let the remaining surges of adrenaline fade out, to be replaced by an ice-cold fist of realisation – The events that had transpired in the last couple of hours punched him in the face.

He had not left her side once the entire time.

You’re really...concerned for her.

He got out of his seat, staggering upon registering Mr Compress’ words from earlier with clarity, similar to receiving a fiery touch on his skin. What the hell?

He glanced back at Geten sleeping, then he left the room with extended paces. I should get back to my room. Yeah, that’s a good idea. He pushed all thoughts of the girl out of his mind, focusing on the inevitable debrief from him the next council meeting, since she couldn’t –

He swore under his breath. Stop thinking about her. These thoughts, feelings, whatever they were. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was unnatural. Foreign. Probably dangerous.

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The next morning’s meeting convened, in the absence of Lieutenant Apocrypha, with Dabi’s debrief of the mission.

“Alright, Dabi, care to explain what happened?” Shigaraki drummed his fingers on the table.

Dabi stood up, wearing his trademark lazy expression, though he was actually fatigued. “So our target turned out to be a Mihara Takame, daughter of Shingu Takame, who was an advisor to Violet Regiment.”

He noted the widened eyes of the old MLA executives. Hanabata’s gaze flickered between the desk and him. And was that a bead of sweat rolling down Skeptic’s forehead? It might have been his imagination.

“What?” Re-destro gaped, then turned to Shigaraki. “Grand Commander, I apologise deeply for this treachery. I had no idea —“

Shigaraki waved his hand. “Never mind about that first. Continue.”

“We got into a fight, which turned out bad for Apocrypha, who took most of the damage, but I managed to finish the assignment.”

“Yeah, that’s the part I wanna know.” Shigaraki leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Why did you guys end up taking the beating you did?”

“Takame’s quirk was a shitty matchup against mine and hers. He just wouldn’t feel any pain. Impossible to incapacitate him.”

“And Apocrypha’s ice did nothing?”

“No, it didn’t hinder him much.”

“Then how did you kill both of them?”

“I took out the woman first.” Dabi mimed twisting a neck. “For her old man, I concentrated my flames onto his head. Carbonized it. He probably died from brain failure or something.”

“Ah, copying Endeavour now, eh?” A small grin made Dabi bristle, though he concealed it.

He shrugged. “What can I say? He’s got decent moves to copy, and I have the firepower to match his. Speaking of which, you might want to send a team to dispose of the body. I didn’t burn up the girl, only Takame.”

Shigaraki frowned. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Excuse me?” The coldness in the room spiked as the two stared at each other with venom.

“I don’t know why you could cremate the larger-sized adult male but not the small girl. Go fix your mess.”

“You’re really going to send me all the way back just to burn one more corpse?”

“Yep.” Shigaraki’s eyes were still fixated on him, as though daring him to act out. What do you want? Something about the way his leader questioned him was off. Hell, he was never so interested in these small problems that cropped up. Dabi had talked to Twice before the meeting. According to him, a small riot broke out in the town centre over Shigaraki’s leadership, and the latter didn’t seem to care.

Did you send the hit squad on us? Dabi’s eyes swept the room. Hanabata and Skeptic’s faces were whiter than normal, but that was because Takame was on their list that Apocrypha freaked out so much about, right?

Dabi was about to argue further, but decided against it. He needed answers, and he doubted anyone in the room would offer anything worthwhile. Maybe going back would be helpful.

He spun around and walked towards the door. “Fine. I’ll get to it now. Prep the jet, Skeptic.”

Without waiting for an answer, or for Shigaraki to stop him, he left the room, slamming the door behind him with a growl. He had to admit, though, that the solitude and this menial task given to him allowed him time to think about everything that had happened last night, and he kept coming back to the one name.

Mesa.

That was all he got from the thug. A name that he couldn’t even be sure was real. Dabi was somewhat confident it was a legitimate answer: the thug was terrified of dying, especially after Dabi used his partner as a demonstration.

When one was about to die, truths became more apparent. They stopped lying and told the truth, whether one was on their deathbed or backed up against an alley.

Sensei had done the same thing.

Dabi frowned, and quickened his pace. Which reminded him...that factory, it looks similar to the one that night. Guess I’ll look around there too.

He emerged from the underground tunnel to the airport, a convenient distance from the mansion. And his face blanched. Why the fuck is she here?

Geten was talking with the pilot, her posture bent, and Dabi didn’t need a doctor to tell him she was still injured.

He marched up to her and waved off the pilot. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going back.” She said, her face tight with pain. Or defiance. One worried him, the other annoyed.

“No, you’re not. You’re still fucked up, you’re going back to the hospital.” He pointed away from the helicopter beside both of them, which reminded him of a parent sending a kid to their room.

And just like the kid, she was acting like a brat. “I need to go back. Please. How did you even know I was here?”

“I didn’t.”

“So you’re going back to Tokugawa?”

Dabi bit back a retort. “No,” he tried.

Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

Dabi envied Sako for the issues he could solve with his quirk with one tap. He stretched his sigh out. “Alright. Fine. One condition.”

“What?”

“Go take a shower and change out of this. You look and smell like shit.”

Geten seemed to be in no mood to shoot a returning insult. She nodded.

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The two took a helicopter ride, which Dabi figured was Skeptic’s way of flipping him off — he was in the mood for another private jet ride, at least up till Geten showed up.

Along the way, Dabi explained what had happened while she was unconscious or hospitalised. She nodded, rather numbly, to everything. He felt like pressing her on why wanted to come along, but she looked to be in such a somber mood Dabi kept quiet once he was done.

“Thank you,” Geten said, which caught Dabi off-guard.

He stared at her. “Huh?”

But she lapsed back into silence.

Takame’s words really affected her, huh? He got the gist of it: Takame was pissed off. Dabi was too focused on finishing the job, and the concussion dulled his senses, even as he crept up to the both of them. He didn’t hear everything Takame said, but enough of it.

He still had no idea what she was doing here. Guess he would find out.

They touched down a while later, took another motorbike ride, also in silence, to the factory. When they got off, there was a rush in her step, as though in anxiety, to reach the site of their Pyrrhic victory. Although, Dabi managed to keep pace with her.

Mihara’s body was still there, and the imprint of Shingu was visible on the stone ground. Geten took out some ice from her pocket and used them to shut her wide eyes, then adjust her broken neck. She looked like she was sleeping.

Next, she fashioned her ice into a platform which carried the young woman. Dabi quietly watched all this unfold, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was doing.

Then Geten walked towards the nearby forest. Taking out more ice, she formed a wide, curved object, which she used to shovel dirt.

Oh, so that’s what she’s doing.

As if in a trance-like state, he picked up some sticks off the ground, lit the tip of them and passed three to Geten, who had laid Mihara’s body in the grave and filled it with dirt.

She looked at the makeshift joss sticks, then at him, and gave a quivering smile. She knelt down to place them on top of the grave.

As she tried to stand up, she stumbled a bit with a wince of pain. Dabi grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Hey. Don’t stress yourself.”

Her footing is off, he noted that, as well as her constant flinching. Her ribs were probably still hurting.

He sighed and muttered, “You – You can lean on me. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I’m fine,” She said with less believability than a hero’s promise. But she did, after a pause, rest her head on his shoulder, as the two stared at the blue flame that slowly died, its bright azure radiance leaving small spots in their eyes.

“Why’s it seem like you trust me all of a sudden?” Dabi had to ask.

After a moment of silence, Geten mumbled, “I think...I think I just do. You’re not the worst.”

That’s a first.

“So why’d you bury her?”

“Because…” She looked at her hands. “They didn’t deserve it. It’s weird, isn’t it? I got beat up so much by them, but I’m still respecting her.”

“No, it’s not weird. It means…” Dabi considered his next few words. “It means your heart isn’t cold.”

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Nice chapter to write, though very long. I realised I had a lot to say so this is sorta still part of this arc, but I’m starting to transition to the next. And now writing these two just became a lot harder, given the change in character.

So if you guys have any feedback on whether I’m too OOC on them, given what’s happened to them, do let me know. I’d appreciate it. I’m especially worried about my portrayal of Dabi this chapter, whether he’s acting too nice (for his character) too abruptly.

I’ll have to do a long re-read of the whole story after a while to reboot and see whether their character progression is plausible.

Nevertheless I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.

And also yeah we’re starting to get into some Dabiten stuff. Should be fun, and hard to write.

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happy-haunts · 4 years

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Emily DeClaire Pt. 1

EMILY DECLAIRE Pt. 1

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

!! WARNING THEMES OF VIOLENCE AND ABUSE !!

I walked with the group out to the hill by the river, along the way Constance and Red were telling me about what they learned from Madame Letoa as well as Terra was telling me all the rather mean stuff William had said to her. I enjoyed this- I enjoyed listening to everyone and how excited they seemed over their adventure. I enjoyed not having to speak, not having to explain just yet all of the things I was hesitant to share.

“And he told me the character I liked from my books was ‘boring and predictable’!” I looked at William who was standing beside me like a bodyguard, all this time without my memory had that made William fall into such a sour personality?

I shouldn’t have been so selfish.

I kept my smile lifted as they shared, but the closer we got the more reality sank in. I couldn’t tell them the truth, about my past, about losing my memory, about anything! Maybe I could just lie? No… That wouldn’t be right, especially since Constance and Red went through all that heartache to find me.

“Hey, don’t worry.” William nudged me and gave a small smile, “It’ll be okay.”

“Are you even the same person?” Terra exclaimed, examining William as if he had grown another head.

I couldn’t help a giggle but it was halted as I got to the hill, the river was reflecting the moon perfectly and the breeze that blew through my form felt like fresh springtime.

“Wow… this is a really great view.” Constance gasped.

“Yeah, maybe I should bring you out here for a date one night?” Red wrapped her arm around Constance’s shoulders with a smile.

I took a seat in the grass, my large dress laid out around me and everyone else following suit, there was a long span of silence before William finally cleared his throat while looking at me - as if to indicate that I needed to start speaking.

“Um, yes … Well where to start?” I laughed nervously, “I should preface this by saying this story is not for the lighthearted.”

“Most of us have murdered people, Emily I think you’re the only one we’re worried about.” Constance said, “If you’re not ready we can wait until you are?”

“No! No! I’m ready! I’m overdue actually…” I couldn’t help it, whenever my heart hurt I had to smile because if I didn’t smile I might break down. “Let’s see I’ll start with … My parents.”

-----

I was raised in New Orleans Square with Claude and Dinah DeClaire, they were the best parents that anyone could ask for.

They worked tirelessly to make my life better and in return I stayed home and tried to keep our apartment cleaned as well as tried to cook meals for them when I was old enough.

One day when I was seventeen, I decided my parents worked too hard and they should take some time to themselves. New Orleans Square had so many places to eat and enjoy yourself so I encouraged my parents to come home early that day, I helped them both get dressed up and sent them out to have a lovely dinner while I stayed home - waiting to hear about their magical night.

But they never returned.

Instead the only ones knocking on my door were the officers who discovered their bodies, who had to tell me my parents had died.

I was selfish.

We were getting along just fine without evenings out, without getting dressed up, and without fancy meals! So why did I have to ruin it?

The officers found out I still had living relatives in a town up the river called Liberty Square - a grandfather and a grandmother known as Howard and Elizabeth DeClaire.

At least I would have someone to mourn with, someone to work through the pain with.

When I arrived at their home it was very clear that - contrary to what I had thought - we would not be mourning together.

I stood at the door while they took me in, my grandmother was beside my grandfather, both of them had shocked looks on their face as though they were seeing a ghost.

“Howard. Get her out of my sight.” My grandmother finally said and turned away from me, holding her arms tightly, from how her shoulders shook it seemed like she was crying.

“I’m sorry, I know this must be an inconvenience but I can clean and cook -.”

“No.” My grandfather’s voice was deep and though it was only one word it still shook me. “You’ll be staying upstairs.”

“Of course, I appreciate everything-.”

“Follow me.” I had decided that perhaps talking could wait until later, after all I might have lost my parents but they lost their son.

I was taken to a dusty room on the second floor, all that inhabited the space was a cot, a wardrobe, and a desk with a mirror hanging above it. It was almost as big as the entire apartment my parents had, which felt like I had an entire house to myself - sure the dust wasn’t ideal but once I was back up to it I could clean it all off.

“You are not to leave this room.” I turned to my grandfather who I didn’t notice had been standing right behind me - an intimidating realization seeing as he was built like an oak tree and I was more of a sapling.

“But surely you don’t mean to keep me up here? I was hoping we could go see the town together.” I started pulling at my fingers nervously, “Like a family?”

My grandfather’s eyebrows rose as though what I was suggesting was some kind of disgusting taboo, he struck me across the face. “We are not a family, you might have Claude’s eyes but you are not my granddaughter.” I cupped my cheek while salty tears began to streak down my cheeks. “As far as I’m concerned if you died in that carriage accident I would have been blessed.”

I was overwhelmed with emotions as I dropped onto the floor, gasping for breath as I tried to calm myself down. But he didn’t care, he walked out the door and left me there sobbing .... broken.

I balled my hands into fists and pressed them onto my temples, I wanted to carve out whatever it was about me that wasn’t good enough. Why couldn’t they love me? Why couldn’t they comfort me?

“Mom… Dad…” I sobbed looking to the ceiling, “I wish you were still here, I wish you never left … I need you…” I curled up in a ball on the floor as the crying only increased. “Please… I need you.”

----

It was like that for several days until I eventually ran out of tears to cry, Delilah was the servant who came to take care of me which meant she brought me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I hoped that meant that perhaps my grandfather was wrong and they hadn’t hated me enough to let me die.

I didn’t eat anyway.

It didn’t matter if I did or not, however, my grandmother saw this as a problem it seemed. And she remedied my “act of defiance” with pain. When throwing the food at me didn’t seem to work she slapped me, when that didn’t work she whipped me with a switch, and when that didn’t work still she had one more trick.

My grandfather had come into the room that day with my grandmother close behind, she looked sickly almost - her frame was fragile but in her hand she held a long iron rod. I was sitting beside my window as I had for … Well to be honest I’m not sure how long? Days perhaps? It couldn’t have been more than a week, could it?

“Get up.” She commanded.

“What is the point of treating me like this?” I couldn’t scream so my voice merely came out cracked and hoarse. “If I starve myself then I’ll die faster.”

“Howard.” Grandfather grabbed me and I was taken to the kitchens where servants parted to watch me be thrown to the floor, my dress was ripped down the back as grandmother put the iron in the kitchen fireplace. Grandmother’s cough was dry and even I could feel how it scraped her throat, as she hacked she pulled the iron back out and I saw what it was.

It was a brand. A brand in the shape of a letter ‘B’

I clutched my chest as hard as I could to brace for the pain as it seared into my skin, the worst part was when she pulled it back and part of my flesh came off with it. My screams were more like weak wheezes, my tears just phantoms.

It seemed it was too much for grandmother as she collapsed holding her iron, the group of servants all getting down to grab her as my grandfather began shouting for them to let her breathe.

I looked to the kitchen door and saw the sunshine, the grass, and the river. The warm air wafted over my face - giving me the strength I needed to bolt for the door.

I wasn’t sure if they had noticed my absence by the time I raced to the neighboring house, but I squeezed through their fence and stumbled into a rock. Not a rock. It was a graveyard?

I was gasping from the sprint and took this opportunity to duck behind a larger headstone, my back was burning from the pain but it also helped me feel something, something other than this deep pit which had formed in my chest. After awhile of hiding I checked to make sure my grandfather or any of the servants weren’t near, I began to walk through the graveyard noticing that first - there seemed to be hundreds of graves, and second- some had their names washed away from their headstones.

I knelt beside one and traced my fingers over the small indentations where words once used to be, how sad that they could no longer be remembered…

I was selfish.

Here I was forsaking the life I have been given when these people had all been forgotten in their deaths. I pressed my lips onto the cold stone and tears came once more, my arms creeping around the headstone till I clutched it so hard against me I might have broken it in two.

“I’m sorry.”

“And what are you sorry for?” I jumped and ducked behind the headstone, noticing that the man looking at me was … Odd. He had startling white hair although he looked rather young, a noose was hanging around his neck, and his clothes looked halfheartedly draped over his figure. “Are you the one who killed them? If so then I commend you on how young you look for your age.”

“Well no, I didn’t-.”

“Then don’t apologize.” He waved his hand to me, “Now, let's take a look at that brand.” He took a step toward me but I crawled back while shaking my head.

“Don’t, please, I…” I hugged my arms and sucked in a breath, “I deserved this.” He placed his hands in his pockets and looked me over as I said so, he contemplated his next words.

“That’s not what the apparitions say.” He walked toward me and took a knee before me, reaching out his hands to inspect my brand. “They saw you running into the graveyard terrified, but they claim you have been separated from your guardian ghouls.” I wasn’t sure what he meant, or what he expected me to think as he told me all this.

“I was just… I overreacted.” I didn’t want him to concern himself, especially once grandfather and grandmother found out I was out of the house.

“Hm.” His smile was ghoulish on it’s own, but somehow charming. “Well, I do hope you won’t overreact while I go retrieve some bandages for that nasty wound.”

“Of course.”

I found myself almost longing for him to return, as though however long I had gone alone made me desperate for some kind of companionship. When he finally came back he was joined by a gorgeous man who had a gown in his arms.

“Dear god Vincent! Where did you scrape her up at?”

“She came here actually, I was unfortunate enough to get the grim news from Cousin Mel - and right in front of Granny.”

“Oh lord whatever will you do…?” The gorgeous man rolled his eyes, “She needs a new dress that much is certain, however now that I look at her I think I should have gotten her a yellow one.”

“How garish! The black is perfectly fine Dorian- she is wearing black so replacing it with another black gown is preferred.”

“No, matching a color to her is much more important - ugh, I would brand her for looking so washed out.”

“Dorian!”

“What? She looks like she’s been living in a cave!” Dorian crouched down to me, “Sweetheart, how long has it been since you got some good sunlight on that rather exquisite complexion of yours?”

“Um … I’m not sure …? A long time?”

“Just as I thought, you have to get out more - doctors orders.” I had been paying so much attention to Dorian I hadn’t noticed Vincent behind me as he patched up my brand, his cold hands making me jump.

“Just a moment, I need to get this covered up so you don’t get an infection. That’s what happened to our great Uncle Hector - one papercut and a month later he was in the grave.”

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

“It really was awful, ugh, it looked like he needed to die.” Dorian made a gagging sound.

There was a clearing throat from beyond us and I grabbed onto Dorian’s hand on instinct, he dropped the dress to grab my hand back - no doubt he thought I was falling or perhaps fainting. I didn’t want to turn around to see who it was, I wanted to assume this may have all been a dream and I was still seated beside the forgotten tombstone.

“Ah Mister DeClaire, what brings you out this way?” Vincent beamed, but his eyes seemed to wander a moment as though someone was whispering in his ear and he had begun trying to concentrate.

“I’ve come to retrieve my …” Grandfather rolled the word around in his mouth a bit before finally growling, “Granddaughter.”

“You?” Dorian furrowed his brow, but then looked to my hands and back to my face. I could tell what he was thinking and I didn’t want him to say anything.

“I should be going, I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

“Here, take this gown that one is ruined and I’ll try to find you a more suitable color another time.”

“Mister DeClaire I can only imagine how you feel, seeing your granddaughter in such a state.” Vincent looked hardened. “You know we are Gracey’s, we can find who did this and ruin them.” It sounded more like a threat than an offer for assistance.

“How very generous of you, but I don’t think there is enough evidence to even prove she lives here, other than your word - so finding who did this would be all for naught.”

“That’s a strange thing to point out.” Dorian grumbled, but I hurried to grandfather’s side and hugged the dress against my chest.

“Thank you Vincent, Dorian, but I think we’ll be alright.”

And without another word we had left.

Grandfather walked me all the way up to my room and closed the door behind him,I took a seat on my bed with my back facing him as I listened to the floorboards creak beneath his feet while he stalked closer to me.

“Your grandmother has passed.” My heart sank and I slouched harder into the dress I clutched against my chest. “You killed her because of your stubbornness.”

“No I-!” He grabbed my jaw and pulled me closer to him, his blue eyes were exactly like mine, exactly like dad’s.

“But now you are mine alone and I will not tolerate defiance, nor will I be intimidated for the lies you told the Gracey boys.” He pushed my face as he released my jaw, his eyes looked me over and I heard him take in a sharp breath. “Get dressed, you look like a devil’s temptress.” I looked at myself sadly and saw that my sleeves had slipped off my shoulders- so I quickly pulled them back up.

Once he was gone I changed into the new black dress, it was a little big but still fit somewhat correctly, looking in the mirror I saw that Dorian was correct about my face. My normally vibrant brown skin was now an ashen and pale muted muddy color, I had deep bags under my eyes, and my cheeks were sunken in slightly from lack of nutrients.

But for the first time something stirred inside my chest, as though the kindness Dorian and Vincent offered gave me something back that I had once lost. A hum came from my lips as I shakily got to my feet and rubbed the fabric of my skirts between my fingers.

“Sing sweet nightingale, high above me ….” I cooed, “Oh Sing sweet nightingale high above… ah…” I held the note as I felt the last of the sunset on my skin.

Perhaps things were not as bad as I once thought, perhaps this was just a chapter I would have to get through.

----

I was wiser for that day, I was much more cautious, I was filled with hope.

So I began sneaking out of my room regularly at night, picking the wildflowers behind the house and taking them to the graveyard to mourn for the nameless, I reserved two flowers for Dorian and Vincent every night as thanks.

One night as I was placing flowers and humming I stumbled across another Gracey brother, he looked about my age with striking resemblance to Dorian. (although not as handsome, since Dorian seemed to take much better care of his skin.) The boy was sleeping hunched on one of the forgotten graves, I saw one of his hands had a bandage wrapped around it, it seemed to cover most of the back of his hand. I tried not to wake him but the flower I placed had ended up brushing against his hand, his eyes snapping open and the boy grabbed my wrist.

“I-I’m sorry!” I shouted, he seemed suspicious of me.

“Who are you?”

“E-Emily!”

This boy was definitely not like Vincent and Dorian, he was much more on guard- harsher it seemed. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?” Much harsher.

“I’m placing flowers on graves.”

“Why? They aren’t your family.”

“Because my family is… far away… so I thought I would remember the people here.”

“How ridiculous none of these people would care about you when they were living - I wouldn’t give them the time of day.” This was his family, surely he didn’t really believe such a thing about his own family? Even though my grandfather was rough with me I was sure he just needed time to know me.

But still I persisted they must be good people, until I started crying… It was foolish of me but I began thinking about my parents and if they were forgotten like this?

I didn’t mean to start crying but it seemed his cold attitude washed away, instead he began trying to remedy the purpose for my tears. But I knew there wasn’t much that could be done, he still asked and tried to help as best he could.

How sweet.

I made sure to ask if he would be back tomorrow night as well because I wanted to see him again, I wanted to talk to him more, I wanted to see more of the boy beneath all that ice.

And we did, every night after that I came to see him and we placed flowers in the graveyard while we talked about his family. I found out his name was William and that he dreamed of leaving this town someday and being in a place no one knew his name- so he could make a new one.

We lay in the graveyard looking at the stars one night, my fingers inching closer to his before I finally gave his hand a tight squeeze.

“We should leave this place.” He mused, “Together, we should run away and see the world.” I pulled my torso up to look at him now, the moonlight washing over his pale skin, I pursed my lips with concern. “Emily I’ll show you the world, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“I’ll go with you if you promise to make me your wife.” I could see William turning red even only illuminated by moonlight. “I love you William.” I said softly, leaning down and pressing my lips against his as I stroked my fingers against his hair. When I pulled away he caressed my cheek with his thumb, smiling at me.

“Alright, I’ll make you my wife and we’ll leave this place.”

“We should practice dancing! Tomorrow we can go down to the river and you can teach me how to tango!” William laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist, rolling me over onto the grass beside him.

“Well if that’s what you want then we will! How can I say no?”

We seldom met each other during the day but I loved when we were out in the sunshine, especially when it was for dancing! The rocks were smooth beneath my feet as I slid them into the shallow water, William came down the hill beside the river holding a box in his hand.

“Ooh! Have you already gotten your suit?”

“Hardly, this is for you from Dorian.”

“Aw! Dorian is so sweet, did he say what it was?”

“No, so open it up quick! I need to know if I have to kill him for it.”

I gave William a playful nudge and flipped open the box, it was a yellow dress and on top of it was a note in beautiful handwriting which read:

“Doctor’s orders.”

The dress wasn’t overwhelmed with embroidery, nor was it made from fine silk, it was a simple canary yellow which was soft to touch.

“Oh my goodness it’s gorgeous…” I felt tears already welling up in my eyes, William chuckled and pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, hey it’s just a dress.”

“Just a dress? This is wonderful, please tell him I loved it!”

“I’ll tell him, now didn’t you want to learn to tango?”

I set the box safely off to the side where it wouldn’t get wet and slid into place in William’s arms, he instructed that the dance would be rather fast but I wasn’t much concerned. I knew I had a talent for dancing - I could feel the music in my body as it told my feet to move or my arms to extend. Every movement felt like another flap of my wings till I would be free from the four walls of my room, free from rules, and free to be who I am just like when mom and dad were alive.

I stepped back and William stepped forward, my hips swayed from side to side as they stepped fast in time as William kept count. As we step - turned I lifted my leg against his hip, William grabbed hold though I could tell he had been caught off guard. I grinned and flung my body backwards and he slowly turned me, I was brought back up to William’s face and I kissed him. I ran my fingers through his hair - pushing him back more while he returned my advances.

And then we fell into the river, I couldn’t hold back my laughter since I felt rather silly for not realizing we were falling sooner.

“Good thing you have a new dress I suppose.” William chuckled, I splashed him.

“I can’t change in front of you! Don’t be so devious!”

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to change out here!” His cheeks blazed red as he helped me up from the water.

“I can’t believe my betrothed is so eager to undress me, I bet Dorian and Vincent would scold you if they knew.”

“That’s it!” He grabbed me by the waist and walked into the river till we were waist deep, then he released me.

“WILLIAM!” I screamed only to be muffled by the water, when I bobbed back up I tackled him into the river till we were equally soaked.

As we walked from the edge of the river I noticed the bandage on his hand was missing, the wound made my stomach turn.

It was the same ‘B’ which my grandmother branded me with.

“William… Who did this to you?” I gently took his hand and turned my gaze to his ocean blue eyes.

“Oh that? I got it from… One of the boys in town, there is this annoying hatter that always hassles me about ‘rules’ in his ‘shop’ and -.”

“William,” I smirked and stroked my thumb over the scarred tissue. “Tell me the truth.”

His expression turned grave as he sucked in a breath, “My mother had talked with your grandmother a while back…” He held up his palms, “N-not that it’s her fault, rest her soul.” I had never come around to telling William about my grandmother or my grandfather, it never came up in conversation so it didn’t need to be stated.

And I wasn’t going to bring it up now, not when William was in such a state.

“William, what happened?”

“Yes, anyway, my step-mother calls it a… ‘reminder’ and she believes that it will make me behave better.” I kissed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

“You shouldn’t have to go through something like that.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t matter.” He stroked my wet hair, “How about we go dry off and … forget about my step-mother?”

We lay on the grass behind one of the tree’s in grandfather’s backyard as I hummed to William, his head resting on my chest while I ran my fingers through his hair. “Sing Sweet Nightingale, High above me…” I hummed while the warm summer breeze ran through the air, the blue sky had never been a prettier blue, and all the elements combined caused my eyes to close.

I could lay here forever.

I could keep this moment forever.

But moments are nothing more than that mere minutes before they are over.

I opened my eyes and my grandfather was standing there looking down at us, terror filled my body as I realized the dream had ended.

“Emily.”

“Grandfather!” I shook William awake and quickly got to my feet, still wearing my soaking clothes no less.

“Ah! A pleasure to meet you Mister DeClaire.” William stood with me and offered his hand, grandfather did not take it.

“You are not only disobeying my orders but you have whored yourself out to the bastard of the Gracey heirs.”

“What did you just call her?” William wasn’t quite my grandfather’s height at the time, he only reached his shoulders, and he was not built quite the same either width-wise.

“William…” I stepped between them, standing tall as I met my grandfather’s cold gaze. “It’s time for me to go.” I turned to William now with a smile I had hoped was convincing, “I shouldn’t have snuck out, but perhaps I’ll see you another time.”

“Unlikely, your mother has told me this is not the first time you have snuck out Emily, I’ll see that you and this bastard-.”

“William.” I snapped, “Had nothing to do with this.”

“No, this is unfair! Emily was just-.”

“Shut up boy.”

“William, I have to go now … I’ll be alright I promise.” I pecked him on the cheek, but William pulled me back and kissed me deeply, when we pulled away he looked at my grandfather and saw himself home.

I sighed with a dreamy smile as I watched William leave, only to have my grandfather grab my wrist and pull me into the house, throwing me in my bedroom.

“You stupid child.” He growled as I stepped back from him, trying to put my bed between us - but it seemed he was following my movements. “But then again slave blood must attract slave blood alike.”

“Stop it, please, I really do care for William and I know you saw that.” I bumped against the wall but my grandfather proceeded to approach me. His frame towered over me and his eyes were wide with rage. “If you could just take the time to get to know him-.”

“There is nothing I need to know about that bastard, you act as though I’ve concern for your virtue!” He snarled and slapped me, “You’re nothing to me but an inconvenience, it is by my pity you still breathe.”

“You can’t believe that.” I whimpered as I pressed the back of my hand on my cheek, tears were starting to fill my eyes. “We’re family, please - please! Can’t you realize I just want us to be a family?”

“We are nothing!” He grabbed my throat and I thought my head would burst, I couldn’t breathe, his fingers seemed to be burning into my skin. “Your blood is nothing like mine!” He released me as I dropped to the ground gasping for air.

My grandfather stepped away from me and slammed the door behind him.

---------

I hadn’t worried too much about that night like I should have, I told myself that nothing was wrong as long as William was alright. I could handle anything from my grandfather - so long as William was there waiting for me, smiling and reaching out to me for another dance.

I was selfish.

I slipped out of my room, tiptoeing down the stairs, and finally stepping out of the kitchen door to the backyard to pick flowers as an apology to William for yesterday.

I had decided to go out during the day so that I might also grab my dress from Dorian, which was still nestled against the tree in the back.

As I held the box in my hands I started selecting the flowers, one after another as I hummed to myself and daydreamed…

I could see William now, laughing at my silliness because he understood that my grandfather was just worried about me. He had to be worried about me.

Because we were family.

Family means that you love each other.

I hadn’t seen him behind me, I hadn’t noticed that he was listening to me sing, I hadn’t noticed that he had begun looking at me differently.

Flower petals burst into the air when I crashed into him, but I could still make out his face through the petals. His eyes were wide but not with anger, he looked at me like I was something he had lost - as if I could replace all that he lost.

He kissed me.

I couldn’t help trembling as he did so - if not because he held my arms so tightly that it hurt, then it was surely because I feared he might do it again. It was much more terrifying than the branding, the hitting, and any insult I had heard.

When he pulled away from me he lifted his hand to my cheek which made me wince on instinct.

“I did that, didn’t I?” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about but, I gathered that perhaps he had bruised my cheek when he slapped me yesterday. “I shouldn’t have, but you made me so angry.”

“I’m sorry grandfather.” He clenched his hands into fists.

“Stop calling me that, Sir will be satisfactory.” Grandfather ran his fingers through my hair, “Sing to me again.”

“What?” I stepped back but one of his hands still gripped my arm and kept me near.

“You’ll sing for me tonight, you’ll sing to me after dinner.” But he could still see I was hesitating. “I will love you, Emily, if you sing only for me.” I still didn’t feel right, something felt wrong, dirty… As if he meant something more. “You wanted me to love you, you wanted this.”

“Y-yes Grand- sir.”

“What are you doing out here? When I forbid you from it?” He tilted my chin up to him more now, I must have given it away in my eyes because he glared at me just as I was used to. “William.”

“I’m sorry I wanted to see him after what happened yesterday-.”

“There is no need to worry about yesterday.” Grandfather’s smile was far worse than his glare, it was as though I could once again feel the brand burning my back. “Because William is gone.”

“What!”

“He is a bastard, it has been a long time coming, but seeing his lips…” He grabbed my throat and I felt his grip tense. “But… There is no more to worry about, you have me now.” That smile, that terrifying smile. “And that is all you wanted.”

“Yes, sir.”

He escorted me back up the stairs and I sat on my bed, the box covered in flowers was still pressed against my chest. As soon as I heard the door close behind me I faltered, dropping the box and covering my face with my hands while I sobbed silently.

William.

WILLIAM!

But what could I do? Where has he gone? Another horrifying thought trailed through my mind.

Was he dead?

#emily de claire #emily declaire #the haunted mansion #fanfiction #fanfic #madame leota #captain blood #The Hatbox Ghost #disneyland #wdw #disney world #disney parks #happy haunts

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angelofarts · 4 years

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Of Crochet and Comas Part Two

Me visiting the hospital on a Sunday was practically unheard of – I had last minute assignments and chores and a dozen other excuses I’d used over the years. And yet I must have been losing my mind, because here I was, sitting in the hospital, anxiously crocheting at my brother’s side. I was listening for the slick sound of leather brogues, and wasn’t focusing on the hat taking shape under my fingers, so when I finally heard the clicking of high heels, I fell backwards in disappointment.

“Well, well, if it isn’t His Superior Craftiness the High Lord of Crochet,” a sarcastic voice intoned from the door. I almost gave myself whiplash as I swung my head around, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Not only was Tesha there, so were Richard, Lisa, and a girl who looked so much like Lisa that she had to be a close relative. I felt blood seep from my neck into my face, making a blotchy flush that I hadn’t experienced in years, as I realized that Tesha must have complained to her friends about how I had spoken to her.

The younger girl crossed her arms. “So you’re the one who was mean to Tesha.”

“His name is Aaron, Julia,” Richard muttered. It was gratifying to see that at least he seemed as uncomfortable as I was, stuck in his wheelchair and thus forced to watch, since the girls were blocking the door.

“It doesn’t matter what his name is,” Lisa declared loftily, leaning against the door. “He was mean to Tesha, so we want him to apologize.”

“I’m right here,” I pointed out. “You shouldn’t talk about people in front of them.”

“You shouldn’t insult people’s hobbies and handmade gifts either, yet you did both,” Lisa countered.

I groaned quietly. “Just leave. You’re going to upset my brother.”

Tesha shook her head at Richard when Julia snorted out, “Your brother isn’t going to get upset, he’s asleep.”

I gestured for them to enter, which they did warily, as though scared I would use my big bad crochet hook to bite them. I pointed at one of the monitors.

“Look, you see that spiking? That measures brain activity. Kenzo is very much awake, so if you could please stop dressing me down in front of him, I’d appreciate it.”

Tesha smiled and took Kenzo’s hand, squeezing it softly. “Hi, Kenzo. It’s nice to think that you’ve heard me every time I come in here. Sorry that your main source of conversation is your self-entitled brother who can’t understand the value of a craft he doesn’t perform.”

I groaned again. “It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know you knitted it yourself!”

While Julia and Lisa laughed together at my exasperation, I leaned over to reach my backpack.

“And actually I did come with an apology, I just didn’t think I’d be delivering it in front of anyone else. Here.”

I passed her a light blue lacy hat. Made in subtle heathering yarn, it had a pattern that seemed like it would suit her nineteenth century aesthetic, and surprisingly it matched the legwarmers that slouched over her calves and high heels where her knee length dark green skirt stopped.

“Oh it’s lovely,” she breathed, pulling it on. Richard reached up and pulled on the back of it, allowing the slouch to form, and suddenly Tesha looked less like a girl from the 1950’s and more like a girl from this century. As she moved into the sun to thank me, I was struck by the silver of her grey eyes – that couldn’t be a natural colour, could it?

“Where are our hats?” Richard demanded, ruining the moment. It was a good thing he did, before I blurted out something to embarrass myself.

I raised an eyebrow. “Were you not just telling me how Tesha’s stuff is better?”

“No,” Julia said as she folded herself onto the floor. “We said Tesha is nicer so we like her better. She actually talks to us.”

Lisa looked a little embarrassed at the way her - sister? Cousin? Random acquaintance that shares enough in the genetic pool that she looks like her and thus has claimed a strange form of family? – was talking to me, but she didn’t correct the statement.

“Is that what you think of me?” I demanded hotly.

Richard shrugged, making the blanket around his shoulders slip again. “Well, yeah? You only ever talk to Bert and Lizzie, and that’s if you talk to anyone before you rush in here.”

Tesha absentmindedly pulled the blanket back up to cover Richard’s bony shoulder as she addressed me. “I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday, and I’ve been volunteering for a year.”

“I tried to say hi to you once in the parking lot,” Julia piped up. We all stared at her, until she grumbled, “Okay, fine, but still.”

“Anyways,” Lisa said, resuming unofficial leader of the team, “what we’re trying to say is that you can’t say we don’t try to be nice to you.”

I shrugged. “I don’t have time. I have to see Kenzo.”

“Yes, because your brother is such a good conversationalist,” she replied drily. “If he was awake, can you honestly tell me he’d want you here instead of with people your own age?”

“He is awake,” I reminded her. “He can hear everything you’re saying. And yeah, Kenzo was never big on telling me what to do, so he’d let me stay here if I wanted to.” Lie. Big fat lie. In the way of older siblings everywhere throughout all of time, Kenzo adored telling me exactly what to do and how to do it, confident that a year gave him some kind of mystical ability to boss me around.

Julia stretched out on the floor, letting her blonde hair fan out. “It doesn’t seem like you talk to him much anyways, since when we came in you were quiet.”

“Aren’t you worried about dirt?” I inquired, distracted by the light hitting her hair. It was almost light enough that I could imagine it to be reflective, the kind of white blonde you only ever see on people of Scandinavian descent.

Lisa scoffed loudly. “It’s a hospital. This is probably the cleanest floor in the whole of the village, she’s fine.”

“I dunno,” Tesha said, sounding like she was reluctant to agree with me. “You never know what someone may have trekked in from outside.”

She and Lisa began to debate back and forth, until Richard interrupted with a loud cough that started fake and quickly turned real, hacking and deep.

“You okay Rick?” Julia asked, real concern clouding her features. He held up a dark hand, warning her from coming closer.

“Fine,” he said after clearing his throat three times. “Tesha, could you help me get back to my room?”

I was surprised at the request. From what little I knew of Richard, he hated to seem reliant on anyone, often rejecting the assistance of his nurses and operating the wheel chair himself on pure determination.

“Of course,” Tesha murmured, grasping the handles. “Lisa, Jules, don’t go anywhere.” They left the room in a blur of dark green skirts.

Lisa exchanged a worried look with her… relative. I was almost positive they had to be relatives of some kind. You don’t get eyes that pale a blue on two people by chance.

“Tesha will take care of him,” Julia reassured her. “And you know he doesn’t mind it. She doesn’t baby him.”

Aha. That answered one question at least.

Hesitantly, I sat back down and picked up the project I had been working on before this whole fiasco started. A bright red beanie, using a puffy popcorn stitch, and with a button band on the side for decorative purposes. The feel of the yarn gliding through my fingers soothed me, and I was surprised to find that I felt real concern for the boy I’d known in passing for a year. Knowing he was sick, and understanding the reality of that, appeared to be two different things.

“What’s that?” Lisa asked, clearly trying to distract herself. “What you’re making, I mean.”

“Another hat. My mom struggles with winter, so it’s an easy way to make sure she doesn’t get sick.”

Julia plopped down next to me and examined the portion I’d finished. “You know, I bet Odette would love this,” she mused. “She’s always in red.”

“Odette?”

“One of the cancer kids,” Lisa explained. “She comes in twice a week for chemo and treatment. She used to have this gorgeous mane of hair, like a mermaid, and it was about hip length, but she lost it about three months ago. Shook her, hard.”

“Odette?” Tesha asked, entering the room again. She took disinfectant out of her skirt pocket and wiped her hands carefully. Lisa nodded.

“Well, it was very nice shaking you down, Mr. Aaron,” Julia said as she rose, “but unlike my sister, I have school tomorrow and have homework to catch up on. Nice insulting you though!”

My confused, “you too?” was lost as she left the room in a rush, and Lisa, after waving at me, went after her, thereby confirming – sisters.

Tesha looked at the slim silver watch on her wrist and sighed. “I have to go too. I have homework due for two classes first thing tomorrow, and I should help Julia study for maths, otherwise Lisa and her roommate will end up killing her.”

I rose, unsure of what exactly I was planning to do, until I held my hand out awkwardly.

“Nice seeing you again?” I offered.

“Nice not being insulted,” she returned, laughing lightly as she slipped her hand into mine. “Let’s try this again next week, yeah?”

I stood staring at the door stupidly long after she left, my murmured “yeah” ringing in my ears softly.

I opened up my laptop, staring at the draft of my essay. Slowly, I pressed the backspace key and erased the words I’d typed last night. When a blank page stared at me, I took a deep breath and, for the third time, attempted to define myself.

Today, I spoke to a knitter, a sister, and two fighters….

#writing #spilled ink #writing about crafts #of crochet and comas #pandemic writing #its kind of bad #i havent written in ages #please dont judge #its just for fun

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agentwallflower · 4 years

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Supernova: Chapter 12

I just finished 17 all of 20 minutes ago, so writing is happening lol...

Anyway, so... I might need to take hiatus in October. My dominant hand is hurting pretty badly from work, and I don’t know if that’s going to get better. I might need to rest it for a while to make sure I don’t develop carpal tunnel (or push it even further if I do have it) so we’ll see. If I have to take hiatus, I’ll let you know at the start of the month.

If I’m not taking it, you’ll see me on... October 3rd, which means I am going to be hyped up on Nijigaku energy and useless to everyone. Get excited for that I suppose...

Anyway, thank you as always for reading and I’ll see you when I see you. Think happy thoughts for my poor, sore hand...

“Having fun yet?”

“Shut up, I hate you.”

A few hours had passed since the two had begun their training. Angel got a front row seat to it all, and in the end he found he wasn't too impressed. What sat before him was hardly a force of nature waiting to destroy anything that stood against it. Instead, she just looked like a frustrated 20 year old who didn't know how her powers worked.

Which... was pretty on the nose, he supposed. Hey, it wasn't like he was an English major or anything.

He had managed to get through a few chapters in the time it had taken Andy to go from standing to laying face down on the floor. It was a position he knew well from long nights of cramming during finals week. It wasn't a good look on anyone, but when your knees – did she even have those? - bent in weird ways, it took something familiar to the level of a rather pathetic horror movie. Honestly, he kind of felt bad for her.

Kind of – it was helping him get his homework done after all.

“Do you want to wrap it up for the day?” He closed his book to get a better view. Andy wasn't moving. She wasn't even breathing, not that he knew where to look. “Uh... you're not dead are you, cause you're not b-”

Andy's response oozed through the floor. “I don't.”

She rolled over onto her back, face blank. “And if I was dead, you'd be vaporized. So I guess you wouldn't be worrying about your homework.”

Maybe it was because they were spending time together, but Angel was starting to get the hang of figuring out her moods even without the tone behind them. This one, he figured, was clearly pissed off. That was something he knew well too – dare he say she was sulking over not being able to figure it out?

For an alien, she was being very human.

He shrugged his shoulders as he rose from his sitting position – oww, sitting in his work pants on hard floor was never fun. “You had a bad first session. It happens.”

“Did it happen to you?” Oh, there was some spite there. She was definitely acting rather human. He could only imagine what that would've sounded like had she been able to regulate tone. It would've probably been something fantastic to hear. She was a young 20 for sure.

He shrugged again. “No, but I was trained by Paladin and we shared a skill set. Just keep doing your weird Goku stuff, something should -”

In the blink of an eye, Andy was standing too. She was suddenly way too close for comfort. If she had been human, he would have picked up on her aura. The fact she didn't have one still set him off. He took a half step back – probably shouldn't have. She had him against the wall now, with very little distance between them.

“That's easy for you to say, you know what you're working with!” She grit her teeth, far too hard for any human without breaking something. Maybe the cover wasn't that fool proof after all. “I'm flying blind and all people can tell me is-”

Before she could say more, the door opened. Angel looked past Andy's solid shoulder, relief mixing with shock. There was an old man there, leaning on a cane he hadn't needed months prior. He was thinner, but his smile was still the same as he entered the room.

It had been three months since Paladin had come back to base.

“Are you two having fun?”

Andy let him go in favor of all but running to his side. “Uncle Leo, you're out of the hospital!”

“And you're out of the big house, I see.” He was smiling at her like she was his favorite grandchild. Something about that made Angel's stomach roll as he regained his bearings and defense aura. It was setting him off in the worst way.

Focus... his mentor could be friendly with anyone he wanted to be with. That was one of the perks of being an old man with cancer.

Andy's tone never changed, but her movements weren't as jerky. “Almost didn't get there. They actually shot me this time.”

“Well, they must've had a nasty surprise when that didn't work.” One eye focused straight on Angel. The psychic straightened under the gaze of his mentor. “Did they try to shoot you as well, Sky Rider?”

The man felt his face color under his helmet as he looked to the side. “They had a psychic, didn't really need it...”

Ah, projectiles. They had never been his friends, especially when he was stressed. Luckily Leo wasn't his teacher anymore, so he couldn't get a lecture over his piss poor control. Still, standing there with the feeling seeping over him, Angel very much wished he could vanish into the floor. That wouldn't happen of course; it wasn't in his skill set, just his wildest dreams when he managed to embarrass himself.

He did that a lot – it came with the territory.

“So, why are you here Uncle Leo? Did you need something?”

That monotone did wonders to drag him out of his pity party. It was as good a question as any, he figured. Maybe the old man was getting bored hanging around the hospital? It wasn't exactly fun, even when you were a psychic. In fact, being able to read minds tended to just make things worse.

“I figured I would stop by to see how you first day of training was going before you left.” He was gripping his cane pretty tightly though “And to encourage you to keep at it. We all have our rough beginnings. No doubt Sky Rider could tell you plenty of his if mine wouldn't suffice. After all, hovering a cow is hardly interesting now.”

The old man laughed, but it was weaker than it had ever sounded. It didn't take a genius to see just how pale he was, or how much he needed to lean on his cane. The only thing that had never changed was his smile. That was always like a thousand suns, no matter how sick he got.

Ever the hero... did he ever worry about himself?

They locked eyes, briefly. The smile that Leo wore on his face didn't quite reach his eyes, which were just so... exhausted. Angel's stomach fell at the sight of them, but he said nothing as he watched the two interact.

So... it was getting worse then. Then why let him out of the hospital?

“Kid, we gotta get you back before your mom gets home.” PT's voice called through the room. Andy was soon waving goodbye to them both – mostly Leo, he noted – and then it was just the two of them in the room. There was a tension there that he hadn't felt before. Maybe it had been there all along.

Shit.

Angel bent to pack up his books, very much aware of the man behind him. He swallowed hard as he stood, bag slung over his shoulders. He was the picture of a normal college kid if you took the gear out of the equation. With it... well, he was never known for being fashionable out of costume. Why worry about it when he was geared up?

“I see you were getting some work done with Andy.” There was humor in Leo's voice as he took a seat in the only chair. Briefly, his hand touched his side. However, he stopped the second he realized his protege was watching.

His face heated up under the visor. “I can't really help her. She's...”

His words fell as he made a vague gesture at the door. Leo nodded in time with his motions, face knowing. At least the two of them were on the same page. Lately, that was happening less and less as he grew into his own form of hero. It was nice to call back to it at least one before...

He shook his head. Wasn't going to put that into the universe.

“She needs a friend too, you know. You're probably the first person out of a lab coat to know.” He smiled again, and it came close to his eyes but missed by a metaphorical mile. “That'll help more than anything else.”

Angel shrugged his shoulders as he crossed the room to be with his former teacher. “Be nice if I understood the mechanics. I don't get anything off her. It's worse than being around you.”

“Welcome to what the rest of the world deals with!” Leo let out a short laugh, but then it turned into a brief, hacking cough that made his fellow psychic's stomach fall. He eventually had to grab a tissue from his pocket to cough into for a long couple seconds. Whatever it contained, he stowed it in his pocket before Angel got to see. “Sorry about that.”

He finally stood, but his footing seemed weak. When Angel offered his arm, he took it. Together, they entered back into the main room. Here, the mood was somber. Scanner was at their rig, but something about the set of their shoulders and the way they were typing gave the psychic pause. Not only that, Ember was there, smiling in a way that reminded him of glass that was about to shatter. When had she gotten back, and why?

Andy and PT said their brief goodbyes, and then headed towards the door. The moment it slid behind them, the room dropped five degrees as the boss lady sat down on the couch. Summer had turned to winter in the span of seconds, and he could feel the chill in his mind rather than his flesh.

Leo noted the shift and sighed. “I'm sorry to have upset you all.”

“Upset is putting it mildly.” Ember's voice cracked. “You're-”

Angel's stomach dropped into his shoes as he watched her lift her mask to dab at her eyes. It didn't work. Hot tears rolled down her face at a rapid pace, and her chest heaved with the effort. Scanner's shoulders were shaking now, and he was pretty sure he heard the tech choke back a sob.

Leo sighed as he leaned harder on Angel's arm. “Jocelyn... Sam...”

“No, Leo, we're not going to be ok!” Her golden eyes were burning with more fire than Angel had ever seen from her. “We thought you would be coming back after the chemo!”

Angel's stomach turned to pure acidic ice. A thousand possibilities flitted through his mind, landing on the one suggestion he had never wanted to give to the universe should it be listening. A cold swear formed on the back of his neck.

For a moment, the world stood still.

“You'll be ok without me. You're doing fine now.” Leo looked so much smaller than he had in the previous moment. “Jocelyn, you've become a wonderful leader. Have faith in yourself.”

The old man let go of his arm to reach for her shoulder. The two shared a moment, one that Angel an Scanner couldn't see. A thousand unsaid things passed between the two, from leader to leader. The set of her shoulders sagged, then straightened under the permanence of her new burden. Yet tears still trickled from her eyes.

He should've realized the whole 'not in the hospital' thing wasn't a good sign... but there was difference between bad and... this.

How much time did the old man have left anyway?

---

“I was studying, mom!”

“You were studying all night?!”

Andy could hear the argument through the floor, even though she was on the bed with a pillow over her head. It was more the symbolic concept than the fact that it could do anything that helped her – it was the sort of thing you were supposed to do when upset, right?

Well, she wasn't upset... but it was certainly aggravating.

Her sister and mother were going at it again. Since both could argue until the metaphorical cows came home, both would probably go until they were hoarse. With any luck, the older of the two wouldn't be able to talk tomorrow.

Of course, that just made her glances nastier. It was kind of a lose-lose situation they found themselves in.

“Hope Jen's ok.” Andy frowned as she pulled the pillow off her face. She technically wasn't banned from leaving, but she was pretty sure she was still grounded. Should she have disobeyed, that was definitely at least another week under house arrest.

But...

Her hand found the door that would open up to the ladder below. The arguing covered up her descent, and her heavy feet were masked by scream of where her older sister had been and whether their mother wasn't being a little too overbearing about things. For once, she was grateful for it as she crept to her younger sister's room and carefully knocked.

Jen all but pulled her in.

“You're going to get in so much trouble if mom finds out.” Anxious eyes darted, but Jen sighed in relief as she closed the door. “I hate when they get like that.”

Andy settled into a spot on the floor. “Me too. You going to be ok?”

Her sister took a spot back on her bed, where her phone was charging. “Yeah, I had my music playing. I didn't realize they were arguing until they overpowered the screaming.”

Well, Aunt Miri would be pleased in her niece's taste in music at the very least. Andy's shoulders shook at the thought as she lay on her back to stare up at the ceiling. Here, at least there were more things to look at. Jen liked putting star stickers on her ceiling. They were pale now, but tonight they would be absolutely glowing.

She had done a good job with the Big Dipper, but Sirius looked a little suspect...

“Are you feeling better?” Jen's big eyes were on her as she texted on her phone at supersonic speeds. “You were in the hospital for a long time again.”

Andy shrugged her shoulders as she vaguely pieced her cover story together. “Yeah, I'm doing better now. They have me going back for checks regularly though, so I'll be gone in the afternoons a couple days a week. You going to be ok with that?”

“I have practice, I'll be fine.” Jen frowned. “You're not getting sicker, are you? Uncle Leo hasn't been looking good lately...”

That got Andy sitting up as she waved her hands to dispel the thought. Her cover story was decent, but that was the downside. Go to the 'hospital' enough times, and someone's bound to wonder how far you were from death's door. She had definitely wracked up the hours and then some to say the least.

But damn, as bad as Uncle Leo?

“It's fine, just part of my condition.” She stopped waving. “Yeah, he's looking kind of rough. He stopped by to see me before he left.”

Jen's cheeks puffed slightly. “No fair, he didn't mention he was getting discharged! I was planning to go see him.”

Had she been able to, Andy would have laughed at her sister's puffed out cheeks. Instead, she felt her insides bubble happily as she sat there in the house's one safe area. They may have been screaming downstairs, but it was ok here.

“Sorry, I'll let him know to give you a call if I see him when I go back.” Her shoulders sagged. “Which... yeah I'll be back there a lot. They have me on a new process and the guy monitoring my process is a real a-.”

She paused. “He's a jerk.”

“I know the word 'asshole', Andy.” Jen's matter of fact tone gave the alien pause as the teen kept scrolling. “Whatever it is, you can do it. You're awesome.”

A thump downstairs meant Andy didn't get a chance to answer. Out the window, they could see that Sara had left the house and was rapidly heading to her car. The argument was over for now, which meant her mother would be on the war path.

The two exchanged glances. Jen spoke first, quietly. “I thought they would be arguing for a few more hours.”

“Guess even big sisters have a breaking point.” The alien winced as she heard footsteps. The afternoon was about to get a lot more annoying.

Better make that two extra weeks of house arrest at this point... but at least it had been worth it to help Jen feel a little better. Andy would have to remember that as she steeled herself for the fallout that was soon to come.

Maybe she should've let the FBI take her after all...

---

If you liked what you read, I have a ko-fi here!

#Supernova Collision Trilogy #writing #novel

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nitewrighter · 5 years

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Villains Want a Valkyrie Pt. 2

Continued from this fic

Also some references made to my fic “The Volskaya Incident.”

------

The Orca had barely touched down when Genji bounded out of it and raced out of the hangar.

“Genji--You still have to debrief--Genji!” Tracer called after him but Ana put a hand on her shoulder as Genji disappeared from sight.

The door to the watchpoint conference room slid open and Genji stood there, body tensed in some simultaneous state of exhaustion and pure adrenaline.

“Genji--” Jack started.

“Where was her security?” said Genji, his voice dark.

Jack gave a sharp look over at McCree, who was leaning against the conference table. “I told you not to tell him until after the debriefing.”

“He had a right to know,” said McCree.

“Where was her security?” Genji asked, his cybernetic hand clenching in a fist at his side.

“Two were found dead in bathroom stalls about an hour after her comm beacon cut out,” said Jack, “The other two never even made it out of their van. Talon apparently took advantage of a change in shifts.”

“Last known location?” said Genji walking in front of the screen which was blipping through security footage of Mercy at a hotel bar with a man who probably rivaled Reinhardt in size.

“According to satellite imaging, The helipad of Hotel Eupheme in Malta,” said McCree, “With the hotel security footage from the bar to the elevator, it doesn’t look like they harmed her.”

Genji seemed to relax slightly but only slightly. “I should have been there--” he started.

“You had a mission,” said Jack, “A mission you still have to debrief from.”

“To hell with the debriefing!” said Genji, “We need to get her back! Talon could be torturing her or-or--” Genji’s breath seemed to grow short from the very thought of it. McCree put a hand on his shoulder.

“For her sake I’m going to ask you to remain calm,” said Jack, “With her comm destroyed we don’t know where she currently is.”

“But we do know the dropship that took her isn’t designed for long flights like the Orca,” said McCree, “They’ll probably still be in the Mediterranean---”

“Venice?” said Genji.

“A bit obvious, but they’re fortified there, so it makes the most sense,” said Jack.

Genji sighed. “We should have had backup for her in Malta---she could have fought, run... bought some time...”

“Security for the conference seemed tight enough,” said McCree, “And we’re stretched thin as it is.”

“They managed to grab her at the tail end of it. The infiltration was likely significantly more thorough than local authorities can report,” said Jack.

“They had to be threatening other scientists at the conference. She would have never gone with them, otherwise,” said Genji.

“Obviously Talon wants her for something--this isn’t a strike against us, this is acquiring her,” said Jack.

“Would’ve hit the watchpoint, otherwise,” said McCree.

“Another Widowmaker?” said Genji.

“Probably would have knocked her out if that were the case,” said Jack, “Easier to gaslight. Easier to brainwash if control over your own consciousness is taken from you. From the looks of it they need her conscious.”

“Sharp, even,” said McCree.

“They need her as a doctor,” said Genji, “They need her as a scientist.”

“I’m afraid I have a pretty strong idea what for,” said Jack.

----

“No, I’m not insulted by this at all, thank you for asking,” said Moira as Gabriel Reyes grunted from his stretcher while about a dozen labtechs scrambled around, taking notes at various machines monitoring his condition.

“Nothing--ngh--wrong with bringing in a second opinion,” said Reaper.

“Except, if memory serves, you nearly killed that second opinion a few months ago,” said Moira, “I doubt she’ll be very forgiving about that.”

“She understands biotics--”

“I understand biotics,” said Moira.

“She invented biotics as they’re used in modern medicine now,” said Reaper.

“She put you in the state you are now!” Moira barked.

“Which means she might--” Reaper hacked a wet, rotten cough, “She might be the only one who knows how to stabilize it,” said Reaper.

“Or she could just inject you with an irradiated solution so Interpol can hunt you down like a dog while you’re falling apart,” said Moira.

“Which is why you’ll be keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t,” said Reaper.

Moira’s lips pulled back from her teeth with disgust.

“I know you don’t like this. I don’t like this. Matter of fact, every nanite in my body is seizing up with repulsion at the very thought of it. Angela Ziegler is associated with the most physically agonizing few seconds of my existence. I can’t turn that off. I wish we weren’t resorting to this. I really do. But Moira,” he put a hand on her shoulder. Moira glanced down at it as his pinky crumpled off and hit the floor with a dull, mundane sound that didn’t really seem to reflect the direness of Reaper’s own state, “I don’t know what else to do. And I’m scared. And we wouldn’t be resorting to this if we knew you hadn’t exhausted every option in your own repertoire.”

Moira met his gaze, some stubbornness, some resentment still glinting in her heterochromatic eyes. The silver half-mask on her face did some work to conceal her expression, but they had worked together too long for Reaper to be unable to read her.

“I trust you,” said Reaper, “You’re going to be in control on this. I promise you that.”

Moira picked up his pinky, turning it over in her own long fingers before taking Reaper’s hand and attempting to put it back on. It met the knuckle joint with the clumsiness of a child figuring out how clay worked. It stuck, but both knew it couldn’t last. “She so much as sneezes wrong and we put a bullet through her head,” said Moira.

“She’s not walking out of this,” said Reaper, “We’re compromising too much just bringing her to Venice--let alone my medical status. As soon as I’m stable, she’s dead. It’s that simple.”

“And if you destabilize again?” said Moira, “If I can’t fix you next time and she’s gone?”

“Well if she manages to buy me a few weeks, a few days even, I can at least get things in order so we aren’t too destabilized when--”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Moira. The words fell out of her like a flinch.

“I’m just being practical,” said Reaper.

“I know--” said Moira, instantly regretting her own vulnerability. She folded her arms across herself, “I don’t...” she inhaled, “I don’t have many friends, Gabriel. I don’t have many people who understand me like you do. That’s the only reason I’m willing to chance this.”

“You’re a real trooper, O’Deorain,” said Reaper before hacking that rotten cough again.

Moira scoffed.

----

The world outside the bag over Mercy’s head was muffled. She felt noise-cancelling headphones pressing against the sides of her face through the cloth of the bag. The heavy cuffs dug into the skin of her wrists and made her forearms ache with the weight. She would argue that it was excessive but the truth was, it wasn’t. She knew Talon meant to disorient her--give her no sense of the dropship’s direction, no clue as to what Mauga and his compatriots were discussing--she could hear him and the other agents laughing at several points but judging from the general rhythm of the conversation, he was just being his apparently usual jovial self. There were five other Talon agents aside from him in the dropship--maybe six.

“It’s Gabriel, isn’t it?” she said and the muffled conversation cut out completely.

She felt Mauga’s hands gently pull the headphones off of her head.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said.

“You wouldn’t bring me in if it was anything else,” said Mercy, “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Mauga.

“If he died, there would be a power vacuum within Talon, wouldn’t there?” said Mercy, “You might benefit more from him dead than alive.”

“That’s not very ‘hippocratic oath’ of you,”said Mauga, a bit of mock scolding in his voice. He snorted. “I see what you’re trying to do here, Doc, and... I mean, good effort, but like... if I wanted Reaper dead I’d just toss you out of the dropship.... and I don’t see any wings on you right now. So I’m not really sure what your endgame here is--maybe try and mess up the ranks?”

So, Reaper is dying, thought Mercy.

There was a brief pause that Mercy assumed was Mauga looking at the other Talon agents for suggestions, but no suggestions arose.

“Maybe try and work something out with me?” said Mauga.

Mercy just huffed underneath her bag.

“I’m friendly, Doc, but I’m not that friendly,” said Mauga, a smile in his voice.

A ripple of snickers rose up among the other Talon agents. They liked him. Or they were scared of him. Probably both. He had a strong rapport within the organization, faith in the abilities of his team. Good for him, not good for her. In all honesty she had expected Talon to be, organization-wise, a crumbling jenga tower of backstabbing, but if Mauga was anything to go by, getting out of this alive was looking more and more unlikely.

Mercy tensed up a bit more where she was sitting. The most chilling thing about Mauga talking about throwing her out of the dropship was the fact that he made absolutely no effort to sound threatening. It wasn’t a threat--neither was him saying that the doctors at the conference would die if she didn’t agree to get in the dropship. That wasn’t a threat and this wasn’t a threat, he was just stating what would happen.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the dropship touched down. They put the headphones back on over her bag and the sensory deprivation made it harder to count off the seconds into minutes into hours-with her own exhaustion from the conference and the steady constant stream of adrenaline in her own system, she couldn’t be sure if she fell asleep, either. Her whole world was blackness and all the muffled talking of Mauga and the other Talon agents blurred into each other no matter how hard she tried to focus and decipher it. She knew she could still smell the salt of the mediterranean, but it wasn’t Gibraltar. There was a bit of a stink to this new scent--old European city, she guessed--crumbling bricks and centuries-old waste management. She could smell salt and sewage as Mauga more or less just picked her up and set her on her feet on cement or stucco. Her feet wobbled in the heels she was wearing at the conference as she was prodded forward blindly, the world muffled around her. She heard Mauga’s voice, loud, jovial, and a clipped response, then a questioning tone from Mauga and another clipped, now slightly annoyed response. There was another sound from Mauga that sounded a bit like “If you say so” and the headphones were pulled off of her head, then the bag was pulled off of her face. She glanced around only briefly--she knew she was on the roof of a building, she knew she could hear the lapping of water and smell both sea and sewage rising up from below. Venice, she thought, It has to be Venice. Mercy didn’t have a chance to further confirm her observations, because she found herself staring up at a face that she wished wasn’t familiar.

“Ziegler,” said Moira, glaring down at her.

“O’Deorain,” said Mercy. Mercy inhaled and opened her mouth.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Moira.

“I--” Mercy started but then felt a gun barrel at her back from one of the Talon agents.

“I’m sure you had plenty of time to think up all manner of insults and threats for us on your trip over--probably nonsense about how ‘your team is coming for you’ and ‘I’m a disgrace to the name of all life sciences,’ but to be frank, I don’t care, and I don’t have the time,” said Moira, “So what’s going to happen is this: You’re going to walk after me. You won’t speak unless spoken to. You won’t attempt to resist. You’re going to comply or you’re going to suffer. Are we clear on that?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Mercy.

“I know you aren’t,” said Moira with a condescending tilt of her head, “I know the only reason you went along with Mauga was because people other than you were at risk and god knows you always have to be the martyr. You don’t have to be scared of me now, Angela. But test me, and we will find out what it takes to teach you that fear. Are we understood?”

Mercy spat in her face. Moira winced back at it only slightly, more from the surprise than the sensation, really. The majority of the spit landed on her silvery half mask.

“Slow learner,” muttered Moira, wiping off the spit with one hand and flicking it off her fingers, “Mauga? Hold her.”

“Welp,” Mauga shrugged and gripped Mercy by the shoulders as Moira pressed at the interior of her wrist and a violet light glowed at the base of her palm.

Mercy barely had time to react before she felt Moira’s hand grip the point where her neck met her shoulder. A violet light, like some dark twisted version of Mercy’s own biotics’ healing tether suddenly wrapped around her upper torso in vein-like tendrils of plasma. She felt every cell in her body screaming and the sensation suddenly sent her back to Volskaya a few months back, Reaper looming over her, saying, “Just breathe, let it take you,” as she felt the life get sapped from every inch of her. She didn’t need a shotgun-blasted hole in her solarplexus to feel the death seeping into her, this time. She could feel the decay seeping in from the point where Moira’s hand gripped her. A sound fell out of Mercy, weak and rattling, half-strangled, half-crying out in agony as she sank to her knees and Moira stooped slightly to keep that contact.

“I can do worse than this, Angela,” said Moira as Mercy’s voice rose up in a weak wail, “I can do far, far worse than this.”

She broke her hand away and Mercy flinched into herself, her shoulders caving inward, her breath shuddering.

“Interesting,” said Moira, looking at her own hand and curling and uncurling her fingers inward, “You feel it more, don’t you?” she said, looking down at Mercy, “All those biotics in your body...I felt more of a reaction there--didn’t you? Like electricity through water. There’s usually a bit more... friction with other subjects.”

“You’re a monster,” said Mercy, her voice low. A birthmark-like splotch of bruise-purple stained the side of her neck where Moira’s hand had just been.

“I’m a scientist,” said Moira, “Now are you going to walk with me or are we going to have another teaching moment?”

Mercy stumbled up to her feet and Mauga released her to sway where she stood.

“Take me to him,” said Mercy.

“You don’t even know why you’re here--” said Moira.

“I know why I’m here,” pain wracked Mercy’s voice, “Take me to him.”

“Quicker learner than I thought,” said Moira, turning on her heel and heading toward a door into the building, “Mauga, do be a dear and snap her neck if she tries anything.”

“Gotcha, boss,” said Mauga with a small salute as they walked after Moira.

“See, Angela?” said Moira, gesturing at Mauga, “Professional.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush,” said Mauga.

#gency

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eastofthemoon · 5 years

Text

This is both part of my Witch Allura AU and also part of @gentronlegendaryfriendships for the prompt Hanahaki Disease. Couldn’t resist writing this once it got into my head.

Petals

Rating: G

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender

Part of Something Familiar

Summary: Shiro would be the first to admit that as a witch’s familiar, one had to expect the unexpected. Yet, every now and then, something would throw him off. Coming home to see scattered flowers on the floor wasn’t exactly bizarre, but it wasn’t normal for their home either. He raised an eyebrow as he followed the trail of petals into the living room.

Shiro would be the first to admit that as a witch’s familiar, one had to expect the unexpected. Yet, every now and then, something would throw him off. Coming home to see scattered flowers on the floor wasn’t exactly bizarre, but it wasn’t normal for their home either. He raised an eyebrow as he followed the trail of petals into the living room.

Someone coughing as he entered. More petals were spread in disarray across the floor and in the centre of it all was Lance, in his cat form, hacking non-stop.

“Lance,” Shiro asked in concerned as he kneeled, “buddy you okay?”

The cat froze, slammed his mouth shut and attempted to raise his head as if nothing was wrong. Shiro narrowed his eyes. Lance didn’t seem to be in dire stress, but Shiro recognized a guilty look when he saw one.

Shiro crossed his arms as Lance seemed to struggled to keep inside whatever it was he had in his mouth.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Shiro asked.

Lance tried a meow but then began to hack again. Then, suddenly a blue daisy dropped out of his mouth. Shiro blinked dumbly as Lance sheepishly tried to hide his face behind his paws.

“Did..did you just cough up a flower?” Shiro asked.

Being cats, it wasn’t uncommon for them to cough up a hairball or two, but everyone tried to do that kind of thing in private and clean it up afterwards. Coughing up a whole flower...that was new.

A sigh was heard from the other room. Shiro raised his head as both Hunk and Keith entered.

“Lance, I thought Coran told you to say stay in the kitchen,” Keith scolded as he kneeled to scoop up the flower.

“Yeah, no offense but easier to clean up if you stay in one spot,” Hunk said as he patted Lance’s head.

Shiro frowned as he stood back up. “Okay, could someone tell me why Lance is coughing up flowers?”

Keith and Hunk both glance to Lance like they were wondering if he would speak up, but when he didn’t Keith volunteered. “Lance got himself cursed.”

Shiro blinked. “What?”

“It’s a weird curse that apparently causes people to cough up flowers,” Hunk continued.

Shiro raised and then lowered his hand. “How did he get himself cursed?”

Seriously, Shiro had barely been gone an hour. There were days he swore he couldn’t his eyes off the other cats for five minutes.

Keith pointed over his shoulder at Lance. “SOMEONE had the grand idea of going exploring in the attic.”

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh, now that made sense. “And I’m assuming that someone accidentally set off a magical item from Alfor’s old collection?”

They had a good reason to avoid the attic. Allura’s father had a huge collection of magical artifacts. Some were useful, but most were weird due to the curses that was attached to them. Walking in there could be equal to walking into a magical landmine.

Lance’s fur went up before he swiftly changed into his human form and tossed his hands in the air.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Lance cried. “I was just trying to find a spare game controller to play that game Pidge found when I just happened to touch this dumb amulet by mistake.”

“Why would we have a spare game controller in the attic?” Hunk asked.

“Hey, Coran is always tossing old junk up there,” Lance argued. “I figure there was a chance that-”

A cough came. Lance covered his mouth as he continued to do so. Instinct taking over, Shiro patted his back until another daisy tumbled out.

Lance took a breath as he glared at the flower. “This..is so gross.”

“Just be glad you’re not coughing up roses,” Keith said as he crossed his arms. “Those would probably have thorns.”

Lance grumbled just as Allura, Pidge and Coran entered. Allura held one of her spellbooks in her hands as she looked to Shiro.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said as she shut the book. “Lance has-”

“Been cursed, yeah I just heard,” Shiro finished as he approached her. “Do we have a way to break it?”

Pidge adjust her glasses. “Technically we have two ways, but it’s a bit tricky considering how this curse works.”

“What’s so complicated?” Lance said as he slumped on the cough. “I am vomiting up plants.” Another cough came and another daisy dropped to the floor. “See?!”

“It’s called the ‘hanahaki curse’,” Coran said as he sat next to Lance. “It causes it’s victim to have flowers grown inside them and then forced to cough them when they experience unrequited love.”

Lance’s scowl vanished as he tilted his head. “Huh?...Unrequited…” He pointed to himself. “But I’m not in love with anyone.”

Hunk raised a hand. “Uh..don’t you have a crush on that movie star you like?”

Lance blushed. “Well, yeah, but I’m not in love with her. That’s just a plain old crush.”

“That doesn’t matter to the hanahaki curse,” Allura said as she flipped through her spellbook. “It seems the curse lumps crushes and actual feelings of love as one thing.”

“WHAT?!” Lance said as he jumped to his feet. “But that’s not fair!” He clearly wanted to yell more, but kneeled over as more daisies fell from his mouth. “I am so sick of this.”

“Calm down,” Shiro said as he gently forced Lance to sit down and looked to Pidge. “You said you had a cure?”

“Well, we got a couple of options,” Pidge said as she paced. “First one is to get the person to also feel romantic love to Lance...but that’s not an option for obvious reasons.”

Shiro nodded. He couldn’t even imagine how to get a movie star interested in Lance, even if he was actually in love with her. “What’s number two?”

Allura cringed. “Um...according to the book we could either try to remove the flowers by magic or even by surgery.”

Lance paled. “What?! You’re going to cut me open-”

“Calm down, we’re not doing that,” Allura said as she patted his head, but then sighed. “I could try my magic but I rather not.”

“Why not?” Shiro asked. Allura was usually chomping at the bit to use her magic.

“That would be because there’s a high risk of Lance losing all sense of his emotions if not done carefully,” Coran said.

Lance paled again. “What?!” His hands shook. “So...are you saying that I’m doomed to either no longer feel any emotions or to cough up flowers until I’m old and grey?”

“No, no, of course not,” Coran said as he patted his shoulder. “The roots of the flowers would tangled up in your throat and kill you long before then.”

Lance’s jaw fell as Shiro, Hunk and Keith exclaimed in unison “W-what?”

Shiro paled as he looked to Allura. “Is that true? We can’t let-”

“It’s true, but it won’t happen,” Allura cut in briskly as she shot a glare at Coran, “because we have a reasonable third option.” She pointed to a page in her spellbook. “There’s a potion we can make and give to Lance that will cease the flowers blooming.”

Colour returned to Lance’s face as his hands stopped shaking. “So...I just need to drink some weed killer?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Allura said as she chewed her bottom lip. “The only issue is that this potion is beyond my skill. We’ll need to call in an expert on the matter.”

“An expert,” Shiro muttered, but then the meaning dawned on him. “You’re not suggesting-”

“That we call Slav, yes,” Pidge said with a nod. “That was what we were thinking.”

In other words, Slav would be coming here. Shiro would have to deal with his annoying antics and criticisms face to face again.

Shiro went quiet as he turned to Allura. “How high of a risk was it again for you to use your magic?”

“SHIRO?!” Lance called out.

Shiro sighed as rubbed his neck. “I know, I was just joking.” Well...he was mostly joking.

0808080808080808080808080808080808080

Slav and Sven weren’t able to arrive until a few hours later. It meant they would have to spend the night at their place. Shiro wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he was willing to put up with it if it meant to cure Lance.

Even if Slav did complain the shade of blue in the walls of the guest room. Yet, Slav seemed to be in an oddly chipper mood as he watched Lance cough up another flower.

“Fascinating,” Slav said as he wrote in his journal. “Truly fascinating. I have read about this curse, but to witness it is a sight.”

Lance growled as he wiped the petals off his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Can you please just cure me already?”

“Working on it,” Sven said as he read over Allura’s spellbook. “Although, we will require to boil some of the ingredients listed here.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “And how long will that take?”

“Including boiling the potion itself, a couple of hours.”

“Great,” Lance moaned as he buried his face in hands.

Shiro gave a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It’s just a bit longer.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Easy for you to say, you’re not gagging on petals-” Another cough came and another flower instantly popped out.

Slav scratched his chin. “Truly intriguing. I will have to take some notes in the meantime.”

Lance twitched an eye. “I’m glad someone is getting some use out of this.”

0808080808080808080808080808080

Lance swished the blue potion in the cup. “You sure this will end the curse?”

“Yes, yes, but stop shaking it,” Slav scolded as he seized Lance’s wrist. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Shiro.”

Shiro rolled his eyes as patted Lance’s shoulder. “The only way we’ll know is if you drink it Lance, but this is the field Slav is known best for.”

“Worst case being poison is probably better than choking to death,” Keith commented with a smirk.

“Oh, ha, ha,” Lance glared before he sighed and held up the cup. “Bottoms up, I guess.” He braced himself and poured it into his mouth.

Surprisingly, it had a sweet taste to it, but it did cause his tongue to tingle and the sensation continued to do so as he travelled down his throat. Once the cup was empty, Lance smacked his lips as he leaned back.

“How do you feel?” Allura asked.

Lance shrugged. “Nothing, I feel-”

Suddenly, he felt another cough come. He slammed a hand over his mouth as he coughed non-stop until he felt something fall out of his mouth. Lance felt Shiro pat his back as he stared into his hands. There were no flowers, but his hand was covered in tiny white specks.

“What are these?” Lance exclaimed as he pointed. “I thought that potion was suppose to cure me.”

“It did,” Sven said as he pulled back Lance’s hand to check. “The potion stops the flowers growing and they turn into seeds.”

“And now all you do is cough them up which you will only have to do at least two more times, or a ten percent chance a three times,” Slav said as he brought out a small bottle. “If it’s fine with you, I would like to collect these seeds. I imagine these flowers will make excellent ingredients for my research.”

“Sure, fine, fill your boots,” Lance said, but was stopped as Shiro took his hand.

“You can take most of them,” Shiro said with smirk, “but we’ll want to keep a couple.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “And why do we want to do that?”

“To plant in a small pot,” Shiro said as he crossed his arms. “Maybe if we put some of those flowers in Allura’s room you’ll remember why you shouldn’t go in the attic.”

Everyone gave a laugh while Lance blushed. He was not going to look at flowers the same way again for a long time.

#gentronweek #vldgen #witch allura au #voltron #my writing

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