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narakurosaki · 3 years

Note

Edwin prompt: ed has recurring nightmares of the stuff he's seen

im sorry this took me longer than expected! i hope you enjoy nonetheless.

summary: ed struggles with a reoccurring nightmare. thankfully, winry is there to comfort him.

rating: t

words: 2202

read on ao3!

He feels as though he’s traversing through thick mud, hardening around his ankles. It cakes within the ankle joint of his automail leg, cementing him in place. He breaks free, using what strength he has left to continue down the road. The Rockbell home inches further and further away; he reaches out, as though he could grasp the building and hold it in place. Its just out of his reach. He screams out her name but receives no response.

Suddenly, he’s bursting through the front door, his shoulder aching from the impact. His eyes jump around his surroundings, searching for a sign of life. He calls out her name, again receiving no response.

His automail breaks down with each step, nuts, bolts, and screws falling to the ground. The plating disintegrates, the intricate work beneath exposed; the wires snap, and he crumbles before the kitchen door. Again, he calls her name, and again, he receives no response.

The kitchen door slowly creaks open. He drags himself across the floor, mumbling her name repeatedly. His fingertips dig into the splintering floorboards until bloodied. He crawls deeper inside, leaving behind a trail of blood. The kitchen is dark, a sole ray of light illuminating only a small section beside the dining table. An apple rolls into his path, followed by another, and another. One stains itself in his blood. His stomach churns.

“Winry?”

A pained moan rings in his ears.

In the light he sees Winry facedown on the floor, a basket toppled on its side beside her, apples spilling out endlessly. Her arm is stretched out, almost as though she’s reaching for him, her head angled enough for him to see her eyes peeking through her bangs. “Ed…”

The sharp edges of what’s left of his leg dig into the wood flooring, the strength of his thigh and core working together to propel him forward. His chin hits the ground beside her. “I’m here, Winry,” he palms her back, searching for any trace of injury. He comes up empty. “I’m here.”

“You didn’t keep your promise, Ed…”

“What are you—”

Beneath her, the Eye of God opens. Her lifeless body falls into the darkness; Ed is swallowed alongside her. Everything goes black; he cannot move, cannot see, cannot hear; cannot speak. He falls for what feels like an eternity until he is spit out on the empty streets of Central.

The broken down armor that was once his little brother lies unmoving. Edward crawls towards the metal scraps, halted only by the agonizing pain in his right shoulder. Blood trickles down his arm, seeing through the wounds created by the bits of his automail port left behind. “Al!” he cries out. “Alphonse!”

In his own blood, Edward draws a human transmutation circle. “Give him back!” His hands clap together. “He’s my little brother!”

…but nothing happens.

“No!” He claps again. “Come on!” And again. “Shit!” And again. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Big… brother?”

“Al!” He turns toward the voice. “Thank God you’re—”

White, lifeless eyes stare back at him. The creature’s teeth are bared, muzzle stretching in what appears to be a smile. Its brown hair flowers down its back, a contrast against its white fur.

The blood drains from Edward’s face.

“Ed… ward…” The chimera nudges him with its snout. “Wanna… play?”

Before he has time to react, his surroundings vanish into a blinding white; the armor and the chimera are gone. He vomits onto the floor as a laughter echoed around him.

“So, you couldn’t save them, after all.” Truth’s mouth spreads into a sickening grin. “Such is the life of an ordinary human.”

Edward coughs. “I did, though. I did! I beat that bearded bastard and gave you my alchemy for my brother!”

“Ah, did you?” Truth tilts its head. It taps a flesh finger against its chin. “You must have forgotten. I am what one may refer to as God; I am the world and the universe; I am all and I am one; and, most importantly—” it points its flesh finger at Edward “—I am you, and I can do as I please.”

Edward struggles to push himself up and off of the ground. He manages to place his weight in his left forearm, but when he goes to move his right, he can no longer feel the muscles and tendons move beneath his skin. His eyes widen.

His arm has been torn from his body by the Truth.

Ed collapses in a puddle of his own blood as the Truth’s laughter rings in his ears.

———

He wakes with a start, bolting upright in bed, his skin slick and clammy from a cold sweat. His heart beats wildly in his chest and he struggles to catch his breath. He reaches instinctively for his left leg; his hands grasp at cool metal. He turns his attention to his right, daring to move his arm. He feels the muscles moving beneath his skin, watches his hand and forearm come into view. He makes a fist.

He turns his attention to the woman lying on her side beside him. She looks so peaceful—she always did when she slept—but he cannot shake the image of her lifeless body on the floor. He reaches out and positions his hand beneath her nose. He sighs, content when he feels the air leaving her lungs as she breathes out. He moves a strand of hair out of her face. She begins to stir.

“Mm…” Her eyes open slowly, blue eyes peeking through long lashes. The image of her in his night terror flashes before his eyes. “What’re you doin’ up?”

Edward forces a smile. “Bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Winry blinks, squints, and yawns before draping an arm over Edward’s waist. She pulls herself toward him and rests her head atop his chest. Her palm lies flat against his pec, fingers splaying and unintentionally brushing against his nipple. He shudders. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He takes her in his arms, fingertips tracing invisible patterns across her bare shoulder. She pushes herself up, blue eyes boring into gold. Even in the dark, he sees a fire behind them. “It isn’t a bad thing to talk about what scares you, Ed. It’ll help you feel better.”

Would it, he wonders. He’d been haunted by nightmares since his and his little brother’s failed attempt at human transmutation. He’d never spoken of what plagued him, not even with Alphonse, though Edward always had an inkling that his armored brother knew. He’d been hopeful, assuming the terrors would vanish after restoring Al to his original body, but he had been dead wrong. He’d woke in a panic in his hospital room, mistaking the IV in his arm for the metal that kept him pinned to the rubble, vulnerable to Father’s deadly blows and tore it from his flesh. His nurse had rushed in, and though he had assured her that he was okay, the look in his eye said otherwise. She’d pushed an anti-anxiety medication into his veins after reinserting his IV, and he had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

Returning home hadn’t stopped the nightmares, either. Edward had fallen victim to a false sense of security, only to be terrorized on a rainy night, two weeks later. He’d sat in the dark, clutching his aching leg and listening to Alphonse’s soft snoring. He wouldn’t burden his little brother with his demons; and, just because he’s in Winry’s bed, he wouldn’t burden her, either.

But she’d asked him to share, and Ed could hardly believe it.

This woman, this beautiful smartass, gearheaded, crazy wonder of a woman had fallen for a broken man, and all she wanted to do was make him feel safe.

Dammit. He really was a lucky man.

He tilts his head and worries at his bottom lip. He fills his lungs, holds the breath, and exhales slowly. It’s his tell that he’ll talk, and Winry is content to lie back against him. He threads his fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t save Amestris. I couldn’t—” he sucks in a breath, his heart thumping against his ribcage. The dark of night mimics that of the Rockbell home in his dream. He bends his left leg and runs his fingertips along his metal port. “My leg broke down when I tried to get to you. I had to crawl but you—” He bites down on the tip of his tongue. The fire in Winry’s eyes has been smothered by his words. She looks at him with worry, and a familiar feeling bubbles in his gut. He’s burdening her, making her worry. Every fiber of his being screams for him to shut his mouth, to spare her the details…

…but the love in his fiancée’s eyes silences those screams. Something about the woman lying atop his chest urges him to share everything on his mind, from the most trivial thoughts to his darkest fears. He feels safe in her presence—he always has.

He takes a moment to breathe. Winry cups his cheek and he leans into her touch.

“…you told me I’d failed. I didn’t know what you meant, but we were both swallowed by the portal.” He closes his eyes, doing his best to rid his mind of the image of her lifeless body falling into the void. “Next thing I knew, I was in Central. Al’s armor wasn’t moving—I had to relive when he transmuted his soul in exchange for my arm. I tried… I tried so hard to bring him back, but my alchemy…” Another deep breath. Winry’s thumb moves soothingly back and forth against his skin. He swallows the lump in his throat. Nina comes to mind—he’d beaten Shou Tucker bloody, cursed himself for being unable to save an innocent little girl. She haunts him to this day, and Edward swears she will until his dying breath.

“I heard a voice call out for their big brother.” His voice shakes on the last two words, his hand gripping her shoulder tightly. “I thought it was Al, but when I turned to look…”

The story of a little girl turned chimera by her alchemist father wasn’t news to Winry. Edward had shared the horrifying details on a rainy night, when the pain in his leg and the thoughts brought on by the rain had been too much to bear. He’d cried that night, and, in turn, so did she. He had seen the good in alchemy, he’d explained to her, but he’d also seen the bad, and the bad outweighed the good in his eyes.

“What happened after that?”

He’s thankful for the woman he holds in his arms. She never forces him to discuss things that bring him despair. She’s quick to change the subject when it’s clear that he’s grown far too uncomfortable.

“The Truth,” he divulges quickly. While the Truth, itself, didn’t bother him, it was the ability it possessed to take. It had taken his arm and his leg; it had taken his little brother’s body; it had taken his teacher’s reproductive organs; and it had taken General Mustang’s eyesight. The Truth took what it pleased when alchemists played god. “It took you and Al from me, and it took back my arm and watched me bleed out on the floor. That’s when—”

“You woke up.”

“Yeah.”

He loosens his grip on her shoulder and steals a glance of her skin. His nails have left indentations. He looks back at the ceiling and drags his fingertips across her shoulder blade, dipping his hand into the back of her tank-top. Winry’s breathing beside his ear serves as a constant reminder than what he’d experienced was just an unfortunate trick of the mind, a side-effect of the trauma he’d experienced from a young age. He fills his lungs.

“Well,” she begins, “I’m here.”

He hugs her to his body and kisses the crown of her head. “I know.”

“And Al is here, too.”

That’s right, he was. Alphonse, his little brother, was asleep in his bed down the hall.

“You succeeded that day, Ed,” Winry pushes herself up to look him in the eye. There’s a softness in her voice. “You gave the souls of the Amestrians back, you defeated Father, and you brought Al back to us.” She cups his cheek tenderly, a soft smile on her lips. The blue of her eyes is piercing, and Edward never wants to look away. “You saved the country and fulfilled your promise. There’s nothing bad, anymore. There’s only good.”

She leans down to capture his lips in a kiss. They move in perfect synchronization, movements slow and deliberate. Winry’s tongue enters his mouth; he nibbles on her bottom lip; hands explore each other’s bodies until Winry straddles him and holds his face in her hands. He lifts her shirt over her head and loses himself completely.

She was right, the worst of his life was behind him. He’d returned his brother to his body, he’d found love with his best friend, and he’d been permitted to retire from the military to live a simpler life. There was only good ahead of him.

#edward elric #winry rockbell #edwin #edward x winry #edward/winry #fma #my fics #equivalent exchange #otp: equivalent exchange #submitted prompt

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daisy-dumpling · 4 years

Text

Wrote a little something as part of my Jojo Oc’s backstory, hope you enjoy!

⚠️⚠️WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: BULLYING,GENERAL ANGST, ABUSE,FAT SHAMING AND SAD TIMES⚠️⚠️

Art by @mariesmh

Name:Maica Yagi

Age:15

Birthday:Feb.14.1986

Place of Birth:Wakayama City, Japan

Nationality:Japanese

Race:Asian

Ethnicity:Hispanic

Height:5’3

MBTI:ISFJ

Parents: Kirumi Yagi and Armando Gordon (separated)

Stand:Mr.Lonely (Born stand user)

‘Ugh again? Oh well let’s just clean this up before anyone gets here” I thought looking at the now near regular sight of my desk littered with unoriginal yet hurtful words in black ink: Fat pig, Cunt, Die bitch, Godzilla, dumbass, Crazy and etc. Grabbing the useful rag (unlike the ones here at school) I kept in my backpack - a light blue thing covered in a strawberry pattern that Mom got me for my birthday- tossing it onto my shoulder then,made a beeline for the few cleaning supplies kept in the cabinet in the back of the classroom. ‘Of course,’ The one spray bottle I needed was too high for me to grab today ‘I need your help...’ With a squeak the tiny blob of slimy darkness with two pale white pupils peeked out from behind my back.Swiftly he stretched a part of his malleable form to the spray bottle I needed bringing it down into hands “Thanks...” I said tonelessly.

I called this creature: Mr. Lonely.

Since I could remember he’s been with me, back then I adored him, did nearly everything with him.That is until I told my parents and friends about him, I still remember; when my Dad came all the way from his place in Spain to go to go see a child psychologist with Mom, seeing her cry over the thought that I could be crazy or put into a sanitarium, and Dad giving a sad look just trying to comfort her even though they weren’t together anymore.I couldn’t bear seeing them like this, so I did what I had to do- I lied telling them I was fine, that I didn’t see him anymore and they looked so relieved at that.But I hated saying that, I hated him, so damn much but he was here and I had to live him till I was dead so I just tolerate him, some days I like him better than others though.All that talk of him however caught with me in middle school, the fact that I wasn’t exactly petite didn’t help either though.

Taking out my pink cassette player I started it up, putting in my earbuds and went to spraying down the wooden desk with my free hand before taking the rag off my shoulder wiping it down.

‘The school year is almost over,’

‘it’s the last year of middle school,’

‘We’ll all be going to different high schools’

‘Let’s just get through this.’

These were things I things often told myself to make it to the end of the day.Nobody was going to help, I tried but teachers see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear, and the thought of making Mom and Dad upset....

When the music started in my earbuds all my thoughts were put on hold when the first song started, ‘Can’t take my eyes off you’ By Frankie Valli. One of my favorites.

I liked the soft beginning to it and I couldn’t help but sway my body a little listening to the drum then when that lovely voice came in, oh it was blissful to put it mildly. But when the main part started, the tempo going I started moving my head side to side wiping away in sync with his wonderful voice.Even Mr. Lonely was bouncing to the tune happily (even though I wasn’t sure he could hear it, he probably could) By the time it faded away the desk was nearly done, I finished up the rest quickly when I noticed the time on the clock, putting away the supplies in their rightful places, I went and took a seat at my now clean desk listening to the rest of my favorites as the students started to file into the classroom.

The look in their eyes or rather lack of, they did their hardest to avoid me knowing something was wrong with me, not wanting to associate themselves with ‘The weird fat girl’, the ones that did speak to me were not kind to put it lightly, but I could handle it.Speak of the devil they’re here, the group of five girls talking amongst each other happily, one of which sat directly behind me. I could feel Mr.Lonely start to shake violently, letting out shrill screeches no one could hear but me, he acted like this every time I saw them “Keep it together” I told him harshly in a hushed voice. The feeling of my earbuds being suddenly yanked out came to my attention and I looked up to see it was one them, their leader: Leiko Oka.

I hated her the most out of all of them; conniving,cruel, with a kind looking smile always on her face that fooled many.

“Aw what are you doing? Are you talking to yourself?” She asked in that sweet patronizing voice of hers swinging the earbuds side to side in her grip.

Mr.Lonely let out a growl now and I could tell he was giving that glaring look without even looking at him “N-No...” I replied directing it towards Mr. Lonely as well to get him to stop “Oh good, I’d hate for you to become a further embarrassment to your existence.” She said smiling still tugging the wire off the desk causing the cassette player to fall off the desk

“Now come on smile Mai , you look like a troll when you frown.” With that she left to her seat ‘Don’t tell me smile’ I wanted to say but I couldn’t, it was almost over I shouldn’t start anything I wanted to scream and cry but I wasn’t going to give that satisfaction.Then I heard a snip from behind my head, feeling my hair there was a part missing, hearing a chuckle behind me I deduced that one of them just cut my hair, this was going to be another long day....

———————————————————

‘Finally, the day is over’ Now that cleaning time was over I grabbed my backpack putting away the papers I received from the teacher in it, ‘fuck I failed with my math homework’ I thought since I was practically hopeless when it came to math, reading and writing? I excel but math? Nope.

“Sometimes I wish you could this for me.” I said aloud to Mr.Lonely who just let out another squeak, sitting on the desk somehow eating a leftover steamed bun from the bento container.

Mom’s pork buns were the best.Grabbing the container I put that away into my bag as well watching Mr.Lonely crawl up my arm towards my shoulder, eventually latching himself back onto my back like he always did, he seemed comfortable there.

‘ Ready to go’ slinging my backpack over my shoulder I headed to the door sliding it open, glancing into the hall seeing that most of the other students were already gone.Stepping out of the classroom making sure to close the door behind me and started walk down the hall

‘I wonder what I should now?’ Didn’t have any homework today, maybe ride down to the theater or go to the mall? Mom is going to home a bit later too-When I turned the corner for the stairs they were there. Of course they were there,standing by the stairs and now they’re looking at me “Hey! Mai! Why don’t you come over here? We got something for you!” Leiko called me over like I was a puppy

“Yeah it’s just for you!” One of her friends called with a giggle.

Did they really think I was that dumb? It’s been two years,whatever let’s just make an excuse and hopefully the worst that will happen is something getting tossed at me “I-I can’t....gotta get home to my Mom, she’s expecting me.” I could feel Mr.Lonely getting riled up behind me but I ignored him for now. Moving past them I avoided looking at them and was about walk down the stairs-a foot met my behind then, and my feet lost their footing.Now I was tumbling down fast, feeling every bump strike against my body and face until I slammed into the wall on the landing, thankfully the stairs weren’t too long since I was still alive.

Groaning slightly I was facedown on the landing, eyes were staring at the cold floor, the pain was stinging but overall it didn’t really bother me, I could handle the pain.When I started to lift myself up I could see some blood drip onto the floor, it was coming from my mouth and nose it felt like.” So rude!” I heard one of them say as the group enthusiastically walked down those stairs from the sound of it. The same foot that pushed me was now pressed against the side of my skull.

“You don’t just brush aside a gift! Apologize!” That damn voice hissed, again I wanted to sob and scream but the pride I had left wouldn’t allow it and I wouldn’t allow Mr.Lonely to come out now.

“What are you finally gonna cry? Huh?”

“Now, now,” I heard Leiko chime in

“I’m sure the piglet didn’t mean it, let’s just leave her to her filth I’ll leave the present right here.” She placed a crudely burnt plush keychain of a cat in front of my face, so that’s where my keychain went, figures.

“Now it’s more like you...Complete garbage!” Leiko said with her friends laughing almost like they had to.The pressure disappeared from my head then, along with the she devils who seemed to be talking about their own plans for today now.Once they were out of sight I lifted myself up again this time successful.Standing again I just stared down at the burnt cat ‘Damn I really liked that keychain,Maybe I can try to win another one in that crane game again’.I just left it there making sure I had my backpack-‘Shit there’s a crack in my glasses! How am I gonna explain this to Mom! I’ll just tell her that I dropped them that’s it!” Heading down I went to the nearest bathroom to see how bad the damage was, looking into the mirror I saw it didn’t seem too bad but...god I looked so pathetic...reaching into my bag I pulled out a couple of band aids and a paper towel from the dispenser, going to work on myself.Halfway through I started to shake, I fell to my knees, letting tears escape my eyes that I denied them.Sinking into the ground a ugly hoarse cry came from my throat and the tears just poured endlessly.I felt Mr.Lonely come again, he was the last thing I needed right now.

He started to move close to my face

“GO AWAY! I HATE YOU!” I snapped at him feeling him retract sadly and briefly I felt my vision change but I thought nothing of it.I was too busy crying my eyes on the floor of the girls bathroom....

#jojos bizarre adventure #oc #abuse tw #tw bullying #tw fat shaming #tw angst #tw sad

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 7 years

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Here, in case I haven’t quite driven the point home:

#i have never identified so closely and personally with ruby in my entire life #steven universe spoilers #su unaired #su spoilers #steven bomb 5 #steven universe #Diamond Hate Blog 2kForever #oath vs the diamonds in leather pants fandom #/sets things on fire and lies facedown on the floor screaming #i'm sorry the reaction to this bomb has turned me into a literal pillar of salt #being a complex character doesn't absolve you of shit #and reasons and motives certainly do not equal justification

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loneleesoul · 5 years

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Starker: Slash Pt. 1

This fic takes place four years after the Snap/Decimation. All of the victims have been rescued but still face mental and physical problems.

This story deals with depression, anxiety, self-starvation and suicidal actions.

Peter lies in bed, his alarm still screaming for him to get up, move, do something. He just waits for it to silence again, for the eighth day in a row.

He ignores the buzz of his phone, which is facedown on his dresser. His door is still locked, pretending to be asleep when someone comes knocking.

He still answers when Aunt May's ringtone sounds, not wanting her to regret sending him to live with his so called "mentor" at Stark Tower.

When in reality he's upstate at the Avengers facility as an Avenger.

But he hasn't been on a mission in a few weeks. Last time Steve and Tony had to bench him due to a panic attack. Which was caused by him being nearly drowned in a river.

Right now his good old friends were kicking ass in Venice, a big-shot blew up a hotel. They've been gone for nearly a week now.

Despite Peter craving interaction with another human besides the overly-happy two minute calls from Aunt May, he didn't want them to see him like this.

He hated the way they looked at him with such pity, asking the same old questions. "Are you okay? How you doing? Wanna talk about it?"

No, bad and definitely not... there's your answer. Leave me alone...

He'd much rather be back with Ned building another Lego adventure like they did before Peter lost himself as Spiderman.

Managing friends, school and avenging became too much. He could go see him however, Ned went to work for the FBI to be "the guy in the chair" for someone more kind compared to Peter.

Because Peter kicked his best friend to the curb. He was basically all alone, no one understood. Ned had gone through Uncle Ben's death with Peter, helped him through it. He was the light in the dark pit of hell.

Now Peter was left all alone in that pit, with no flicker of light.

Aunt May's ringtone sounds and Peter sighs, sitting up. His ribs ache, stabbing against his empty stomach. He reaches over with a shaky hand and rejects her call.

He lies back down, tugging the blanket so he's just a floating head full of sad thoughts. He stares outside the huge floor to ceiling windows as the sun sinks below the trees.

He's about to doze off when the answer to all of his struggles came to him. The one way ticket.

It could fix everything, but backfire horribly. His spider powers could work faster, he could get caught. He could lose his powers and have no use to the Avengers.

But the thought of no more pain was too tempting.

He stands on shaky legs and hobbles over to his bathroom. His heart pounds so hard it's hurting his ears. A horrifying mixture of guilt and depression wash over him.

The only thing that stops him from getting to the razors is the thought of what Tony would think.

Tears just silently stream down his face, he stares at the unused blades out openly on the counter.

Tony Stark.

He remembered the confused, scared, broken and horrified look on his face as he faded away. Tony told him how lost and sad he was afterwards. Lost all hope, blamed himself for it.

What would Tony do if he actually died?

He knew of Tony's anxiety and damaged mind, the real shit that he had told Peter after a bad night.

Could Peter really do that to him?

He's interrupted from his dark thoughts when there's a knock at the door.

"Peter."

Fuck it, I can't face him. Not like this...

He grabs the razor blade, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Peter, everyone's worried about you."

Slash.. exposed skin... blood.

"I know things have been tough and sucky since you got back and I can't even imagine the hell you went through compared to my own."

Slash... exposed skin... blood.

"You hide from everyone, don't show up for dinner, never answer our calls.. please don't ignore us, it's not good to be alone Peter."

Tears.. slash.. slash.. so much blood.

No immediate healing.

Slash... slash... slash.. the scent of blood fills the bathroom and reaches the rest of his bedroom.

"I know you aren't sleeping Peter, and May called saying you haven't answered your phone in the past two days."

Muffled sobbing.. blood spills onto the white tile floor.

Stinging pain as he continues to slash at his wrists.

"Peter???"

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hamilton-one-shots · 6 years

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Can you do 1, 3, 5, 14, 18, 22, 30, 37, 45, 46, 50, 52, 53, 70, 71, 75, 107, 108, 118, 143, 135, 155, 156, 168, 178, 183, 187, 192, 222, 226, 231, 236, 242, 264, 274, 377, 286, 301, 346 Jamilams were john hides a sercret from thomas and alex to protect them bit once they find out they get mad at john, Kinda, and John starts to over react adlnd secretly cuts himself and laf explains to alex and thomas why john hide the secret from them and other stiff happens.

(1.“Do you want me to leave?” 3.“I can’t believe you!” 5.“What did you say?” 14.“You did WHAT?” 18.“Were you ever going to tell me?” 22.“What’s with the box?” 30.“Did you do this on purpose?!” 37.“It’s not fair!” 45.“You are infuriating!” 46.“Just shut up already.” 50.“You are being ridiculous!” 52.“Listen to me!” 53.“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 70.“I’m not going to apologize for this. Not anymore.” 71.“That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.” 75.“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.“ 107.“Are you really taking his side against me?” 108.“At what point did you think that was a good idea?” 118.“Did I stutter?” 135.“Have I ever lied to you?” 143.“How long has it been?” 155.“I didn’t ask for any of this!” 156.“I didn’t realize I needed your permission.” 168.“I just want to be alone right now.” 178.“I never meant for anyone to get hurt.” 183.“I trusted you!” 187.“I-I can’t trust you anymore…” 192.“I’m sick of being USELESS.” 222.“Just leave me ALONE.” 226.“Look at me – just breathe, okay?” 231.“No one needs to know.” 236.“Please don’t do this.” 242.“Shit, are you bleeding?” 264.“What were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?” 274.“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 277.“You DID WHAT?” 286.“You know, it’s okay to cry…” 301.“Have you lost your damn mind?” 346.“You can’t die. Please don’t die.”)

John, Alex, and Thomas dated for a year before they decided it was time to discuss intimacy. After all, the topic wasn’t so simple for poly relationships. Alex and Thomas didn’t mind the idea, but John was firmly against it. He allowed the two to do whatever they were going to do, but he wasn’t interested in having sex with either of them. And it went on like that for another year. Then they decided to move in together. John was a bit hesitant, but agreed.

Alex and Thomas were left a bit confused about him. They never saw him shirtless and there were days in the summer when he went around in a huge hoodie, sweating gallons, but refusing to take off his jacket. And then one day, he just… changed? All of a sudden, things were different with him. He went around with his shirt off all the time, not caring which of his boyfriends saw him. He still refused to have sex the few times they pressed, but they didn’t let it bother them.

What did bother them was John’s awful lie on that fateful day.

Thomas was trying to find John for breakfast and found him looking at some box full of clothes up in his room. “Hey, sunshine. What’s with the box?”

John jumped and closed it. “Nothing! Uh.. Nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “John? What is it? You can tell me.” He went over and sat with him, John shaking his head and pushing the box under his bed.

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

He sighed and put his hand under John’s chin, turning his head so that he faced him. “John. Have I ever lied to you? In our years of dating or friendship?”

John frowned and looked down, then looked back up. “No..”

“Then why are you lying to me?”

He sighed. “I just don’t want to talk about it.. I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“You promise?..” Thomas hated the fact that he was lying, but if he didn’t want to say, he didn’t have to.

“I promise.”

“Okay..” Thomas kissed his forehead. “Dinner time.”

Thomas stayed quiet about that, just as he promised. But that was only the beginning.

The next time, they caught him red handed.

Thomas and Alexander planned to have a date night and Lafayette was with John, keeping him company. That was the plan. The plan changed when Thomas took longer with his hair than usual.

“Come on, Thomas! We have reservations.”

“My hair is not agreeing with me. Give me a minute.” It took a few minutes, but he finally got it done. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s-”

“OW! Fuck!”

They both ran up to John’s room and opened the door, finding Lafayette apologizing profusely and John holding a cotton ball on his butt, glaring at him. The second that the two walked in, they went silent and looked towards the door, John covering himself.

“What the hell is going on here?” Thomas asked, the first to break the silence.

Lafayette got up to leave.

“Stay.” Alexander demanded.

He sat back down.

“One of you explain.”

John sighed. “This is not how I wanted to have this talk..” On the other hand, he never wanted to have that talk. “It’s not what you think. It’s not drugs or anything. It’s testosterone.. I’m..” He bit his tongue. The words tasted sour before he even said them.

“He’s trans..”

Thomas and Alexander went silent. How were they supposed to react?

Thomas cleared his throat. “Were you ever going to tell us?..”

“No.. I didn’t want you guys to know and I certainly never wanted you to find out this way..” He sighed. “This is why you never used to see me with my shirt off.. Then, that month I was supposed to be at a business meeting with Laf, I was getting and recovering from top surgery…”

“You did what?! I can’t believe you! I trusted you!”

John was a bit taken aback at Alexander’s outburst. “What did you say?..”

“No, he’s right. I-I can’t trust you anymore. We’re your boyfriends! We’ve been dating for a long time and you went and got major surgery without so much as thinking of telling us? You told Laf!”

Lafayette jumped to his feet. “Both of you, just shut up already! You are being ridiculous. He didn’t have to tell you anything.”

“We’re in a relationship with him. He lives with us!”

John jumped to his feet, holding the blanket around himself, and dashed out of the room, pushing past both of his boyfriends and locking himself in a bathroom.

Thomas and Alexander turned to chase after him, but Lafayette stopped them, grabbing their arms.

“Both of you, stop this! Have you lost your damn minds?! You just found out what he considers to be his most shameful secret and you’re just screaming at him!”

“Are you really taking his side? Don’t you think we deserve to know something like this about him?”

“You two are infuriating! Listen to me. The last thing he wanted was to hurt either of you.”

“But-”

“I’m not done.”

“Laf-”

“Did I stutter?” He nodded as the other two finally fell silent. “Thank you. This is such a delicate situation. John has been trying his best to seem normal all of his life. His father is transphobic and homophobic, an all around dick, so John had to pretend to just be a tomboy. He was still forced into dresses. If you knew him back then, it would’ve broken your heart to see him like that.”

“But he’s been lying all this time and getting injections from you, of all people. How long has it been? How long have you been lying to us about him?”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to help your boyfriend feel more comfortable in his body. You know, you two are the only reason he’s even considering bottom surgery past a hysterectomy.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“It isn’t? What did you mean, then?”

“I… I don’t know.. But that’s the exact opposite of what I meant. It’s not about helping him feel comfortable. It’s about the lying.”

“I am one in a handful of people who know this. Me and a few ex-boyfriends who dumped him as soon as they found out.”

Alexander’s eyes went wide and he went quiet. “But we’d never..”

“He thought the same about the others too. I just wanted to protect him. I’m not going to apologize for this. Not anymore.” Lafayette sighed. “Yelling at him for this.. This is the dumbest thing you two have ever done. At what point did you think that was a good idea?”

Alexander frowned and looked over at Thomas, who was staring towards the door. “What is it?..”

“Something’s not right.. He’s too quiet.” He walked out and stood outside of the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Johnny?.. It’s me..”

“I just want to be alone right now…”

His defeated tone broke Thomas’s heart. “Let me in.. I just want to talk.”

“I never meant for anyone to get hurt.. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

That was a bit more worrying. “Let me in, John. Please.”

John didn’t respond.

“John?..” He turned the doorknob. Locked. “John?!”

Alexander came over after seeing Lafayette out. “What happened?”

“John won’t open the door and he won’t respond.”

Alexander frowned and pushed him out of the way. “John? Open the door, please. We’re not mad at you.”

Still, there was no response.

Alexander began to panic, trying to force the door open. “John?!”

Thomas moved him out of the way. “John, we’re scared. I’m going to kick down the door.” He waited for a response, then took a step back and kicked the door open, gasping when he saw what happened.

John was submerged in the bathtub, facedown, completely still.

Thomas ran forward and pulled John out. “Johnny?! You have to be okay!”

Alexander kneeled down beside him and carefully pulled John onto the floor, giving him CPR. “Come on.. You can’t die.. Please don’t die..” he whimpered, sighing when he coughed up water.

“Oh, thank god..” They both hugged him tightly, stopping as John thrashed in their arms. “Woah, woah, sunshine. Look at me - just breathe, okay?..”

“Shit, are you bleeding?” Alexander carefully pulled up John’s sleeves to reveal a long cut running vertically up his forearm. “Did you do this on purpose?!”

“Just leave me ALONE. I’m sick of being USELESS!”

“Johnny, sunshine, you are not useless. You are not,” Thomas attempted to reassure, struggling to hold John still.

“He’s right, John. We should’ve been more understanding. But what were you thinking?.. Were you… Were you trying to get yourself killed?..”

John whimpered and nodded, finally calming down.

“Please don’t do this, sunshine.. We both love you so, so much…”

“I just..” He sniffled. “You guys kept fighting and I knew you would hate that I’m like this and I figured no one needs to know…” He looked up at them. “Do you want me to leave?..”

“No, honey.. We never intended on asking you to leave. It was just the fact that you lied like that, we felt like you couldn’t trust us..”

“Yeah. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.. To happen to us.. We couldn’t stand the thought of you not being serious enough to trust us, but Laf explained everything.” He held John close against his chest.

Alexander ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, it’s okay to cry..”

John nodded and let himself cry softly, both of his boyfriends consoling him. Once he was done, he took a deep breath.

“You know,” Thomas began, “this won’t change anything between us.”

He shook his head. “As if. Alex may be bi, but you’re gay. What’s the point in having two boyfriends if you won’t have sex with one of them.”

“That’s stupid. I still love you for you. And it doesn’t matter to me what you have down there, you’re still a boy.”

John hugged him tightly again. “Thank you..”

“Of course.” He kissed his cheek. “Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

He nodded and let Thomas carry him to bed, Alexander following them.

The pair changed into comfortable clothes, then helped John change into warm, dry clothes with his permission. Once they were all ready, they laid in bed together, John cuddled close between them, and fell asleep.

From then on, things were only slightly different. Every weekend, Thomas or Alexander would help John with his testosterone injections. They worked out sex with him and neither Alex nor Thomas, even, had anything against it. They didn’t think it could happen, but they were happier than they had been before and far closer. If things were great before, they finally found a way to make them perfect.

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #thomas jefferson #jamilams #lams #thaurens #jamilton #lafayette

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aiweirdness · 6 years

Text

The first line of a novel, by an improved neural network

Earlier this month, I tried training an algorithm called a neural network to generate the first line of a novel.

It didn’t go so well. A neural network learns by example, looking at a database of things (paint color names, craft beer names, halloween costumes) and trying to figure out how to imitate it. The problem was, I didn’t have many example first sentences to give the neural network, and supplementing with winners from a worst opening sentence contest didn’t help matters. An example:

Stop! I caused the Narguuse man who was new on Alabama, the screaming constipated eggs.

So, I asked my readers for help. I asked people to enter the first line of any novel or short story they had handy, even their own. And folks, you have made me and the neural network so very happy.

Total # of entries: 11135

Here were the most frequently-entered lines:

It was a nice day. (27) Shadow had done three years in prison. (21) In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. (17) The primroses were over. (17) The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. (16) We slept in what had once been the gymnasium. (16) The body lay naked and facedown, a deathly gray, spatters of blood staining the snow around it. (15) It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. (14) All children, except one, grow up. (14) It was a pleasure to burn. (13) Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. (13)

And the most frequently-entered authors:

Terry Pratchett (268) Neil Gaiman (99) Douglas Adams (87) Arthur Conan Doyle (81) Diana Wynne Jones (76) Isaac Asimov (61) William Gibson (55) Lois McMaster Bujold (54) Philip K. Dick (53) Stephen King (51) Jack Vance (51) Jane Austen (50) Charissa Johnson (50)

(Note that misspellings and variations aren’t counted; Ursula Le Guin and J. R. R. Tolkien would have easily made the list if their spellings were more standardized.)

This crowdsourced database was quite wide-ranging indeed: from Star Wars stories to Chuck Tingle to a surprising amount of My Little Pony fan fiction. The latest version of the database is here. With my original dataset added, I ended up with 10096 unique lines (except for typos).

I used the same neural network as last time, an open-source neural net that (somewhat unusually) uses syllables as its building blocks.

The first results showed, if not promise, then at least evidence of the high number of My Little Pony stories in the dataset.

And town go the resions with the the as to the vicered the whatboat, fluenza the of the his mix.ing the think'

What or the the not of un the the in you conple a tonight fire on the of of the at mouning and she trouror" the fash no the the which they to, an of the the all stood ponyville at es that ev the.

The neural net soon made some improvement, and once in a while would produce a grammatically correct sentence as long as it was very short.

It was an hour of the night.

The waves - there, and a class that glass of the wall of a dull place.

Something 17514.

I know they are from the mountain.

Her emlage were playing the three of the fible of the Sinnia Ously of St, in the hole is his life in a moist king.

Aliens were reared by the steam of a drought of a good ears, the young wall of the water, but she was going upon a over and had been stolen to chapter the Irish of the ratred of the building star is in Coats-and-La is a flash of dewy and big enough.

It learned eventually how to begin a book by talking about the weather - although not always successfully.

There was the snow of a perfect custom sea and early gusts from the back of the bay.

The sky was dead.

The night was very a moonless story in a mountain-10 years.

The night is like a wounded carpets from the Crumzon.

The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.

And it developed a curious fondness for a line by Jacqueline Carey about not being a cuckoo’s child. Everything, for some reason, was a cuckoo’s child.

I am a cuckoo’s child of the monster.

I am not a simple person, I am the truth, and I am a cuckoo's child and the first thing you've never be blamed to be born.

"I am a cuckoo's man," said the man who had found the tapes when he had been in the door.

Many lines, especially the shortest ones, almost made sense.

The morning room came to the deep camp.

"I have no question,” I said, as I had been ringing from Inniwhite.

The farmer was born on one side.

"You are even much!"

It was a good day that had once been any thing.

It is a man trick.

The night was over.

There began with the dead end of the wind.

The telephone was coming.

With Mr. Bilbo had always been so much procision

The sky has gone.

Here was a grey one.

The sun was coming.

"She's no acterity," said the hoarse man.

There was a very high slacks for our house 2g19.

The first thing you know is not a good idea.

I am not a king.

I was surfing for my table.

There was just a man who was able to be sick.

It was god.

This is the worst thing, in an old old man of baker and bay.

A noise is a good recruit.

And some were actually rather intriguing. I might read these books.

The silence was unlike a place.

"I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast."

Her mother was packing by the black anthill.

The sun was probably for his wife.

I am a story that was not a truth.

"I am not the door!"

I don't know what is a combined life.

This is the story of a certain man who had invented a young man.

The sky was at the door.

Alice is a story of interest.

The question was enjoying himself.

This is a story of a man in the morning.

The world was born to say that I was lost.

I saw the last of a man, who was dead.

The old man was the first of us of the beginning to the sky.

Longer sentences, though? Still a problem. Grammar is hard.

"Bleeeck, “You are clearly out of my uncle Christmas Eve, I am a cuckoo's advice and at the day that I can tell you to be a man," but he had no children to remember to the boars of the ancient girl (or Claudius the Idiot."

The year of the island is discovered the Missouri of the galaxy like a teenage lying and always discovered the year of her own class-writing bed and implored the creation of his head, and the constant final ones in the back of the high water of the stock of the dark.

All the light of the smallest man’s body in the ocean in an old angle of a giant mountain and exclaimed that the sky was the gunslinger caught over the pale of the great kitchen floor.

I knew how felt my father being to our interested to the baseing and so walter along her hours, and the holy summer of the world with the sea of the m and the exvitions of the light of elephant novice, and the top of the phenomwhere, and the witch of the world was firmer and slid and an invisible company of the year and the ancient head of the square, the song of the day of the interest note, a large zzzzzz for a very mind, and a wizard of chess.

Want to see what the raw neural network output looked like? This project is my entry for NaNoGenMo (National Novel Generating Month) which means that I generated 140,000 words’ worth of first lines, also available at GitHub. Unfortunately, due to a prank in the input data that I didn’t catch till after I trained the neural network, 37,000 of them are the word “sand”.

I’m posting the crowdsourced dataset here on GitHub, in spreadsheet form on Google Docs, and I’ll leave the original survey open as well. Thanks again, everyone.

#neural networks #syll-rnn #nanowrimo #nanogenmo #opening lines #writing prompts

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bard-dadsquared · 6 years

Text

Lies facedown on the floor and screams*

#blue.txt

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salty-dracon · 6 years

Text

SECRET Heroes- True Nature

Bridget aims to kill the “vampires” that have been terrorizing Cricket Springs before she searches for Val in Genetika’s fortress.

Bridget wandered out into the field. The young woman followed her, hugging her sides in the cold. At her side, Brid carried her unactivated lance. It was dark out, so dark that the half moon was the only thing casting light on the field.

“And you’re sure he’s out here, darlin’?“ The woman gripped Brid’s hand.

“He’ll come if we hang out here long enough.“ Brid glanced at the woman, who was still shivering. “Are you doing okay?“

“Do you have any garlic? Any wooden stakes?“

“Stakes, I’ve got, just in case I’m wrong about all this.“ Brid motioned to her side, where two wooden stakes hung from her belt. “Besides, we’re trying to lure him, not scare him away.“

The woman nodded.

Brid heard a rustling sound. Her heat vision picked up a small rodent running through the grass.

“W-W-What was that?“

“Squirrel. Hey, Mary, can you tell me something?“

“What is it, ma’am?“

“Do you know if our vampire’s cold-blooded?“

“I-I-I think he is... “

“Shit. Well, that rules out any reliance on heat vision. And a bio-scan won’t work either if he’s hiding under the grass. Although... “

“W-What?“

“A cardio scan might prove useful.“ Brid flipped through a series of icons on her hologram visor and selected one. “There. This is going to pick up the heartbeat of anyone in the area.“ Pressing her spear down into the earth, she activated it. A purple light surrounded the sphere like an antenna before emitting two waves of purple radiation.

“Well?“ the woman asked.

“Just as I thought.“ Brid’s eyes closed. “Two of them.“

“Two?!“ Mary exclaimed. “Two vampires?!“

“And if I’m right... “ Brid glanced at Mary. “Now’s your time to shine.“

“I just have to cut myself, right?“

“Quickly!“ Brid’s eyes were focused on a point a distance away. She readied her weapon.

Carefully, the woman cut open a small section her arm with the butcher’s knife. Blood poured out, dripping into the grass.

Brid heard rustling. She stood perfectly still, listening to the sound of grass being parted by a pair of feet. The sound grew closer and closer, forcing Mary to press herself up against Brid.

“M-Miss?“ the woman’s eyes widened as she stared at two red points of light in the darkness. “Miss, he’s right there.“

“Wait for it... “

“Miss!“ Mary hid behind Brid, but Brid forced her out.

The shadow in the darkness tensed up and pounced. It held its claws out like a panther mid-strike.

Before it could reach Mary, Brid spun her lance and knocked it square in the jaw with a BANG. It landed a few yards away, facedown in the dirt.

“Thana,“ Brid said, motioning for Mary to run, “bad boy.“

Mary stared at the man’s body for a few seconds until it convulsed. She let out a scream and bounded out of the field as the man stood up.

“You- you know my name?“ Thana spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass. “Who are you?“ His eyes widened. “I know that scent.“

“I knew the moment I saw your brother here that you two were behind the vampire attacks.“ She swung her lance in a circle. “Also, the pattern of your attacks lacked a) a single point source, b) consistency in method, and c) an organically shaped home base. Leading me to conclude that you were both the vampires, and that Genetika’s airship was sitting in this field all along, hidden by a cloaking mechanism. Now, I just need to question the owner of these fields who you so generously attempted to kill, and I should have my conformation.“

“What are you going to gain by killing me?“ Thana’s eyes grew wide as he approached her. “You’ll be this little town’s savior. That’s it, isn’t it?“

“No. I have another reason. Viviel should know why.“

“You’re after my boy toy.“ Thana made a sound like growling. “You want the runt back.“

“Yes.“ Brid watched as Thana circled her, carefully eyeing his prey. “Viviel’s going to try to kill me, isn’t he? I can’t tell where he is exactly, but I can find out.”

Thana smiled and lunged at Brid, unsheathing giant steel claws.

In response, Brid turned invisible and ducked behind one of her wings. Thana flew completely over her head. One second later, she heard a dink against her wing. In a split second, she grabbed Thana, who had landed behind her, and wrestled him against her body, pinning his claws behind his back. She pressed her lance to his neck and restrained him as he tried to fight.

“Viviel, take me to Val, and I won’t kill him,“ she said, in Thana’s ear.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?“ Thana asked.

“I haven’t lied to you before.“

Bridget heard more rustling of grass before a silhouette appeared on the horizon. Viviel ran up to Brid with a stern look on his face. He pointed a sniper rifle at Brid.

“Release my brother.“ Viviel’s voice was low and serious.

“Take me to Val first.“

“Release him.“

“Take me to Val.“

“I can’t get in without him.“ Viviel pointed to an object dangling from Thana’s waist. “I need his ID.“

“Fine.“ Brid pulled Thana upright, still gripping his wrists and pressing the lance to his neck. “Let’s go.“

----

The inside of the fortress looked exactly like Brid imagined it to look- a rectangular hallway with its only other features being light bulbs, piping, exposed steel beams, and the door they just entered. Brid couldn’t even see the outside of the fortress- it was cloaked.

“Let go of him now, please.“ Viviel glared at Brid.

Brid silently released him. Thana threw himself forward and let out a growl before walking back to Viviel with a scowl on his face.

“Where’s Val?“ she asked again.

“We’ll take you. Come on. Thana, don’t do anything reckless.“

“I’ll bite you if you do that again,“ Thana snarled.

“Thana!“ Viviel tugged his arm. Brid followed the two of them down the hallway and through another door.

“By the way,“ Thana said, cocking his head unnaturally, “I heard you were imprisoned with Typhon... “

“And the other two, yes.“

“Well?“ He clenched his fists. “What happened between you?“

“Nothing of note.“

“Are you suuure? Nothing? Nothing at all?“ Thana laughed like a maniac until Viviel yanked his hair.

The door they had entered appeared to be some kind of lab. Viviel led her down an aisle of glass cages, in which sat a number of people. Brid’s contact recognized some of them as ordinary people, but a couple were prominent politicians.

“Who are they?“ she asked.

“Some are test subjects.” Viviel motioned to a young woman reading a book. “Some are being detained for sample collection.“

“I see... “

“Well, here we are.“ Viviel stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. “Through here is Amplify, the boy you’ve been searching for.“

Thana hissed.

Carefully, Brid opened the door.

The entire room was dark, but smelled like rust, silicon and blood. She stepped inside and turned on her flashlight. She found a number of monitors and strange apparatuses, all turned off. At the back of the room, she saw a cell, its iron bars covered in red rust. Peering inside, she saw Val, who appeared to be just waking up.

“Brid?“ Val muttered.

“Val!“ Brid ran over to the cell. “Val, it’s okay! I’m here to rescue you!“

“Why the hell... “ Val groaned. “Why are you here?“

“I’m here to rescue you, dumbass.“

“I told you not to rescue me.“

“What?“ Brid’s brows furrowed.

“I said, ‘I’m calling from a radio station somewhere near Cricket Springs, Kentucky. Genetika is stationed here, along with those twins. Don’t rescue me, just get to SECRET and tell them everything’.“

“Okay, well, the static broke up the ‘don’t’ part.“

“God damn it.“ Val sighed. “Anyway, did you get my memo about those twins you said you met that one time?“

“No, that part I sort of deduced on my own.“

“Dammit.” He groaned and sat up. “Listen, you need to get out of here. Now.”

“Val... “ Brid’s finger traced a mark on his forehead. “What have they done to you?“

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you get out. Listen, there’s a thing in the computer systems- it’s dangerous. If it takes ahold of your symbots, it’ll kill you.“

“I’m not leaving without you. We had a deal, remember?“

“The deal’s off!“ Val shouted. “Just do whatever you can to get out of here alive! If that thing gets you-“

“Well, Envy?“ Viviel asked. “The deal’s off, isn’t it? Why don’t you leave? We’ll take care of your friend.“

“Because this is more than a deal.“ Brid kicked the cell door. “I don’t know what kind of computer virus is lurking the halls, and I can’t begin to imagine what these two will do to me if I fall, but I’m going to get him out, I promise.“ She activated her weapon. Its tip morphed into a chainsaw. With one swipe, she sliced the hinges keeping the door closed. The door fell off the cage and landed on the ground, scattering rust on the floor. “Come on, Val. I’m breaking you out.“

“Then I guess it’s our duty to stop you.“ Viviel pulled Thana’s collar. “Thana, attack the girl.”

Thana laughed and launched himself at Brid. She raised her lance and shot a bolt of plasma at him, throwing him back into the wall. She quickly grabbed Val and pulled him out of the cage, dragging him out of the room.

“Dammit.” Viviel pressed a button on the wall. “All personnel, we have escapees heading for an exit in Sector 3. Hold nothing back. I repeat, hold nothing back against them.”

“What are your orders for me, Viviel?”

Viviel turned around. A hologram of GREY stood behind him.

“Do what you do best.”

GREY smiled and disappeared.

#secretagents

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swanslieutenant · 7 years

Text

If the Stars Align - Chapter X

Summary: The Musketeers AU. Danger lurks around every corner in the French court and as a Musketeer in service of the royal family, Killian’s duty is to protect them from any and all threats. As his relationship with Queen Emma develops into something more than just friendship, threats against the queen escalate and put everything they hold dear into jeopardy.

Rating: M

Content warning for the story: violence, mature themes, minor character death.

Art by @hook-and-star-ink , @acaptainswaneternity and @seastarved. Follow this to check all the pieces currently published and give them some love!

Catch Up on tumblr: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9

AO3: ch10

Hours later, Killian thinks it’s the morning sunlight that awakens him, streaming in through the tiny window, warm and welcoming. He lies there, listening to Emma’s even breath, the singing morning birds outside, and the rhythmic thumping from the hammering outside.

He frowns. The hammering sounds different this morning, and as his brain wakes up, he realizes it’s not the hammering at all.

It’s footsteps.

He lifts his head, looking out the door just as Robin comes around the corner. Robin’s eyes widen in shock, and he turns on his heel, his footsteps clattering down the stairs as quickly as he’d come up them.

Shit.

Emma is still asleep, lying on her stomach with her head on his chest, one hand curled possessively around his forearm. At some point in the night, the blanket slipped down to rest over her hips, her bare back covered only with her golden curls, and Killian swears again.

He shifts out from under her, easing her head onto his pillow. She stirs a bit, closing her hand around his arm in a vice grip. He pries her fingers away, loathe as he is to leave. He dresses quietly, pulling on his pants and shirt, and slips from the room, off to find Robin to do damage control.

He’s already retreated back to the small antechamber downstairs. He stares intently out a window, as if trying to burn a hole in the glass, and Killian strides up to him, scratching behind his ear.

“Robin, about what you just saw –”

“I didn’t see anything. I was asleep all night, and you came to me in the morning to change shifts. Right?”

Killian swallows, and nods. “Right, of course –”

“You slept with the queen?!”

Well, that hadn’t lasted long.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Robin hisses, jabbing a finger into Killian’s chest, hard enough to push him backwards. “I warned you, Killian, I told you not to do anything stupid –”

“It was a one-time thing, it won’t happen –”

“It is treason!” Robin shouts, grabbing his arm and twisting it so Killian has no choice but to face him. “You clearly don’t care, but I do. If anyone discovers what happened, you will lose your head, I will lose mine for knowing about it, and the queen … the queen –”

“No one knows,” Killian says, his stomach flipping at Robin’s words. “Just you, and I sincerely doubt you’re going to go tattling to the king.”

Robin’s face twists, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “You’re an idiot, Killian. Queens have lost their heads for a whisper of adultery before. Any word of this and our queen will be in the same place as them.”

Killian clenches his hands into fists, and he glares furiously at Robin. “Don’t speak like that.”

“Don’t make me. I’ll pretend I know nothing, that to the best of my knowledge, you were on duty all night outside the queen’s room while she slept soundly and alone behind a closed door, and you will never, ever speak of this again. Do you understand me?”

Killian nods mutely, and Robin releases him, shoving him backwards again. Killian doesn’t stick around to be yelled at again, and he jogs back up the stairs.

Emma is awake now too, sitting on the edge of the bed. She changed back into the pink dress, and is braiding her hair into a long plait down her back. She looks over as Killian enters the room, fingers pausing on her hair. He leans against the doorframe, and they stare at each other for a long moment.

Emma breaks it first, and she indicates her head towards the stairwell. “I heard yelling. Who was that?”

Killian runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Robin. He – he came upstairs. He won’t say anything, and I won’t either –”

Emma stands up, coming close and her hand against his chest, fingers playing with the necklace around his neck.

“I know.”

He bends his head to rest their foreheads together. Robin’s words of treason and adultery are echoing through his head, and he realizes how foolish they were, how this could all come crashing down around them.

But who knows – they may die today after all.

They don’t say anything for a long time, until Emma sighs, stepping back from him to slip on her shoes.

“What’s going on down there? The hammering’s stopped.”

“I’m not sure. We can go down and see –”

There’s a boom from down below, the entire building shaking as a cannonball strikes it. Immediately, nuns and Musketeers alike start calling out to each other, their loud yells for help or weapons making it all the way up to the tower.

Killian is stunned. How had the bandits finished their scaffold so quickly? And where did they get a cannon?

Emma jumps into action, darting towards the door, but Killian grabs her arm and tugs her back into the bedroom.

“Wait, wait a second.”

“I am not staying here, Killian –”

“I know.”

He withdraws one of his pistols and a dagger from his belt. One of the sashes Mother Superior uses as a belt is around the room, so he picks it up and reaches around Emma to tie it around her waist. He gives her the dagger and tucks the pistol through the sash at the back of her dress, letting his hands linger on her waist.

“Now we can go.”

They fly down the stone stairs and towards the main entrance. The doors to the convent are wide open, doors broken and ripped from their hinges, the sound of clashing swords and screams flowing in from the courtyard.

A bandit, tall and imposing, steps into the convent, darkening the doorway. He’s brandishing a sharp sword that gleams in the outside light, and he looks directly at Emma and Killian at the other end of the hall.

“I found her!”

His heart beating a mile a minute, Killian grabs Emma and pulls her into the nearest room. Its an old storeroom, littered with old barrels and crates, and he slams the door shut.

“Find somewhere to hide –”

The door bursts open again, and the bandit enters the room, firing off a pistol that narrowly misses Emma. She ducks with a scream, and Killian charges at the bandit, hitting him hard under the chin with his elbow and knocking him backwards.

Killian draws his sword as the bandit rights himself, wiping away the blood from his mouth.

“You’ll pay for that, Musketeer.”

They circle each other, and Killian makes the first move, the wind whistling as his sword cuts through the air. The bandit counters him expertly, much more expertly than Killian was expecting, and drives him backwards several steps.

He regains his footing, but the bandit takes advantage. He tosses his sword to his left hand and punches Killian in the stomach with his right. He groans as the wind is forced from his lungs, and he bends over, trying to regain his breath. The bandit hits him on the back with the hilt of his sword, sending Killian to his knees with a painful grunt, and then onto his back with another kick to his stomach.

Killian grimaces as the bandit looms over him, and squeezes his eyes shut. He tenses as he waits for the final blow he knows is coming, but it never does. Instead, the bandit lets out a grunt of pain, the shadow he sees through his eyelids disappearing, the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor vibrating through the floor next to him.

There’s silence for a moment, and Killian opens his eyes. Emma is standing above him now, holding up the dagger, the blade glittering with scarlet blood.

“I think I killed him.”

Killian gapes at the dead bandit beside him, facedown with a bloody rip in the back of his jacket. He clambers back to his feet, wrapping his arms around Emma and pulling her as close as he can.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Emma replies, with a touch of amusement. “You’re the one who nearly got stabbed on the floor a minute ago.”

He releases her, shaking his head in awe. “You are bloody brilliant.”

She just shrugs, her jaw tightening and anger flashing in her eyes. “He was going to kill you. I had to stop him.”

He hugs her again, and they leave the bandit on the ground as they depart the storeroom. The fight is in the main courtyard now, and Killian and Emma run right out into the thick of it.

There are only a couple bandits on the grounds; Lancelot and Will are taking on two to three bandits each, the nuns hitting the others that get through them with the garden instruments.

Robin is up on the wall, slashing at bandits as they attempt to climb it from their scaffold. There’s a constant stream of bandits, and he’s struggling to keep up, bandits easily diving around him and down to the ground to meet with Will and Lancelot.

For a moment, both Emma and Killian take in the scene in front of them. Killian doesn’t know where to go – he doesn’t want to leave Emma’s side, but his fellow Musketeers desperately need him.

Tink, in the midst of whacking a bandit across the face with a shovel, notices Emma and Killian standing there in the doorway, and she makes the decision for Killian.

“Protect the queen!”

The ones who are not fighting obey her instantly, circling around Emma and unceremoniously shoving Killian into the thick of the fight. Emma’s eyes flash with annoyance, now surrounded by nuns with garden tools, but she nods encouragingly at Killian as he steps away. He sends her a smile, hoping it’s not the last time he’ll ever be able too, and jumps into action.

Instead of stopping beside Will and Lancelot, Killian runs towards Robin up on the wall, slashing out as bandits as he goes. He cuts himself a path to the meagre ladder someone’s propped up against the wall, clambering up to join Robin.

Right away, there’s a need for him. Robin is preoccupied with two bandits, and a third is rising up from the scaffold, a lethally curved knife in his hands. He hasn’t noticed Killian yet, his eyes focused totally on Robin, and Killian takes advantage.

He draws his pistol, aiming for only a second before pulling the trigger. The force from the bullet sends the bandit flying backwards, his scream of pain echoing back up to Killian as he loses his footing, falling right back the way he came.

The shot startles Robin and the two bandits, all of them looking around for the source.

“Need some help?” Killian asks cheekily, and Robin rolls his eyes. He punches one of the bandits in the face, kicking the other in the gut; both of them fall like the one Killian had shot, screams cut off with a heavy thud at the bottom.

Robin watches them fall with a grim grin, and smirks at Killian. “If you can keep up.”

Killian loses track of how many bandits he fights. No matter how many they manage to shove off the wall, another rises in his place, more furious than before. It’s a constant strain of muscles and swords, firing and reloading pistols, and his mind shuts off, nothing but the scent of battle permeating his thoughts.

He’s fighting a particularly nasty bandit, viciously and furiously, and the man swings out at him with his curved blade. Killian leans back in time to save his face, but he can’t get out of the way entirely, and the blade slices across his chest, just above his heart.

The cut sends hot, burning pain through him, and instantly Killian regrets not pulling on his jacket that morning. The wound spurts blood through his shirt, staining the white linen to scarlet, and he clutches at his chest. Rage courses through him as quick as the pain, and he pulls out his pistol. Before the man can even widen his eyes in fear, Killian dispatches the bandit with a shot to the stomach.

The bandit crumbles, and Killian clutches at his wounded chest. His shirt is becoming soaked with blood, and he presses a hand against the cut, trying to stop the bleeding.

A deep, low rumbling sound reaches him then, and he looks up in alarm. Emerging from the forest now are dozens of horses thundering up the path towards the convent, and at first, he’s afraid it is more bandits.

But as they get closer, to his immense surprise and relief, it’s the exact opposite. He can make out the blue of the Musketeer cloaks, the stampede of approaching soldiers more like an ocean wave riding towards them. David and Captain Humbert are leading the charge of countless soldiers, and Killian can’t help but smile.

He shoves another bandit off the scaffold before he can rise, and leans over the edge into the courtyard, shouting, “Open the gates! The reinforcements are here!”

The nuns scramble to the doors, and by the time they’ve managed to remove some of the barrels barricading the door, it’s not a moment too soon. The doors swing open, and horses thunder into the courtyard, both nuns and bandits scattering as the Musketeers swing off their saddles, charging at the bandits still in the courtyard.

With the large number of Musketeers now there, the bandits don’t stand a chance. The ones who remained on the outside of the convent are swiftly dispatched by the Musketeers who’d dropped from their horses out there, while other Musketeers hack away at the scaffold in an attempt to bring it down, sending the bandits on it screaming and careering onto the ground.

After a time, there’s no one else left to fight on the wall itself, leaving Killian to just watch the bandits fall with a sort of grim satisfaction when his eyes catch movement at the bottom of the hill.

He squints, and can just barely make out a magnificent black horse, a statuesque woman seated atop it.

“Regina!”

Robin’s voice startles Killian enough he nearly slips right off the wall, and he whirls around to gape at him.

No – her?

Though it’s impossible she could have heard him from this distance, the woman reins her horse in, turning in her saddle to stare back up at the convent. Killian can’t see her features from this distance, but Robin pales and shouts out again.

“Regina, stop!”

But the woman kicks at her horse and takes off, disappearing into the thicket of trees. Robin sheathes his sword, looking ready to jump down onto the half-disassembled scaffold and after her, but Killian grabs his arm.

“You won’t catch her. She’s gone.”

Robin’s eyes are wild, lost into the woods after Regina, and Killian’s not sure Robin even heard him. But then his head snaps over to look at him, and he shoves Killian away, scrambling down the ladder and marching across the courtyard to the convent.

Breathing hard, Killian glances back to the path, but Regina is truly gone now. He feels sick – she is involved in this too? – and he drops down the ladder himself after Robin, his legs nearly giving way after all the fighting.

The fight down here is over now too; the courtyard is littered with bodies and horses and nuns and Musketeers, more like a warzone than a peaceful garden. Killian grimaces as he picks his way through it. He’s intent on finding Emma – who he notices, with a quickening heartbeat, is not where he left her – but he comes across David first, poking one of the bandits’ bodies.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you, mate,” Killian says, pulling David into a hug. “How did you get here so fast?”

“Rode like the wind,” he says, still sounding winded. “Had to. You all needed me.”

He gestures to Killian’s shirt, stained with blood, and the courtyard around them. Killian grimaces; with the wound to his chest still smarting and bleeding, it’s easy to think it could easily be their bodies on the ground instead, nuns and Musketeers instead of bandits, and he shakes his head grimly.

“You’ve no idea.”

He leaves David then, picking his way through the courtyard to where he last saw Emma. A lot of the nuns who’d been around her are gone now too, and he pulls aside the only one he recognizes.

“Where’s the queen?”

She points inside the convent. “Sister Rose took her to the infirmary to clean her up.”

That doesn’t make Killian’s heartbeat slow any, and he hurries inside. In the infirmary, a small room with only two beds, there is a small partition around Aurora’s while Emma is seated on the other. Her dress is pushed off her shoulder and she’s holding a wad of cloth pressed against it, talking softly with Tink in front of her. Tink is washing fresh cloth in a basin, cloth that Killian notes is stained scarlet with blood.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Tink and Emma jump in surprise, Tink dropping the cloth and grabbing a garden hoe beside her. They relax when they recognize him, and Tink shakes her head.

“Don’t sneak up like that, Killian!”

He ignores her. “What happened, Emma?”

“It’s nothing. A bandit shot the convent behind us, and a piece of stone fell and cut my shoulder. I didn’t even get to fight and I got hurt.” She sounds a bit annoyed, but that fades as her eyes widen.

“What happened to you? You’re bleeding.”

He glances down, having forgotten the wound at his chest, and he grimaces. “Oh, that.”

Emma gets to her feet and peels away the linen stuck to the wound, making him hiss in pain. Emma’s eyes darken as she takes in the cut, which, Killian has to admit, is more serious than he thought. It’s more of a gash, really, stretching from his collarbone to his underarm and probably requiring stiches.

“This needs to be cleaned,” Emma says, pulling leading him to the bed she’d just risen from.

“No, your shoulder is worse –”

Emma shoots him a severe look over said injured shoulder, and Killian clamps his mouth shut.

She makes him take his shirt off to get better access to the wound, and that’s when Killian realizes how deep the cut really is. He grimaces as his muscles pull painfully as he pulls the shirt over his head, and Emma has to help him finish it as he can’t lift his left arm.

Tink raises her eyebrows as Emma tosses the shirt to the side, leaning across him to get a fresh cloth and resting her hand casually on his thigh as she does. She deposits an exasperated glance upon Killian, who feels his cheeks flush, and she picks up an extra basin with a sniff.

“I’ll go get some more water.”

The room is quiet without her, Emma dabbing at his chest in silence. Killian tries not to flinch or tense every time the cloth pulls away, both from the wound itself and the dried blood catching on his chest hair and pulling painfully.

“If only we had some rum,” Emma mutters, Killian’s laugh lost in another hiss of pain as she pulls the cloth away.

She leans over him again, wringing out the cloth in the basin, the water in the basin growing red. She orders him to take the swan necklace off as it too is covered in blood, and he obeys, placing it in her outstretched hand. Her fingers close over it, and Killian’s hand closes over hers too before she can pull away.

“It kept me safe, as you wished.”

She smiles. “Good.”

The thought of the swan pendant brings to mind the man who it didn’t keep safe, Monsieur Gillert. When she’s finished bandaging his chest, wrapping the cloth tightly around his upper torso to keep it in place, he grabs her hand again, pausing her.

“Emma, I need to tell you something. Before we left Paris, remember when we spoke about our suspect for Gillert’s murder?”

Her eyes darken. “Robin’s wife.”

“Yes. When I was up there on the wall with Robin, we spotted her at the bottom of the hill.”

Emma’s mouth drops open, and she gets to her feet in a rush, whirling around to stare out the single window. “You – she was here?”

“She disappeared into the forest. There was no way we could have caught her.”

She shakes her head, and clenches her hands into fists. “It’s all connected. Monsieur Gillert’s death, these bandits. I bet the guards at the Bastille too. They’re after me. She’s after me.”

Her voice breaks, whether from anger or fear, Killian’s not sure. He gets to his feet, wincing at the pull on his muscles, stepping forward and wrapping his good arm around Emma.

“We’ll keep you safe, Emma. I promise.”

She presses her face against the uninjured side of his face, and shakes her head. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s everyone around me.”

He tightens his grip on her, pulling her closer and tucking her against his chest. “We’ll protect them too.”

They stay in each other’s embrace, even though it’s an awkward hug, neither of them capable of moving an arm due to their injuries. A few minutes later, someone clears their throat loudly from the doorway and they quickly pull apart, Emma turning away and wiping at her eyes.

Thankfully it’s Tink, pointedly up to the ceiling, sloshing basin of water in her arms.

“Can I come back in now please?”

Her exasperated tone breaks the dark mood, and both Emma and Killian laugh. Emma shifts further away from Killian as Tink sets the water basin down beside the bed, setting her hands on her hips and staring at Emma.

“Can I please fix your shoulder up now, Your Majesty? Mother Superior will wring my neck if she sees you like this.”

Emma nods, and with a fresh cloth in hand, Tink hip-checks Killian further away from the queen as she sits down between them. Killian rolls his eyes at her, pulling his shirt back on (with some difficulty) and ducks away to check on the others.

The immediate plan is to leave that afternoon, but the Musketeers and Emma don’t end up going. The convent is more seriously damaged than they realized and they’d be leaving an enormous task to the nuns. The Musketeers do what repairs they can and others sleep, trying to catch up on a night’s rest lost to riding hard.

Though Killian had gone to check on the others, Mother Superior spotted him leaving the infirmary, his chest already bleeding through the bandages, and she sent him right back where another nun sews the wound up.

When she’s finished, Killian never wishing for rum more than after that experience, and when Tink is finished bandaging Emma’s shoulder, they leave the infirmary together. They have both ended up with an injured arm pinned to their chests and they end up working together, each with one arm, to help out the others.

Though they’re doing nothing but helping out by dragging some wreckage away, when Robin sees them he turns a nasty shade of purple and orders Killian away to help with the repairs elsewhere.

Killian doesn’t see Emma at all after that. Everywhere he turns, Robin is there, watching him like a hawk and keeping him occupied with many mundane tasks. And though Killian is sure he’s doing it to make sure he stays away from Emma, Killian suspects having him to boss around is taking Robin’s mind off seeing Regina at the bottom of the hill too.

He hasn’t said a word about it since, and Killian doesn’t dare bring it up, not with the full squadron of Musketeers about who don’t know the entire story.

Robin’s hovering relents as night falls. With the repairs taking longer than expected, they’ve decided to spend one more night here, leaving in the morning, and Killian trudges off to bed while Robin retreats to guard Emma’s bedroom himself, clearly not trusting anyone else.

The next morning, some of the Musketeers elect to stay behind to finish up repairs, while Killian and his cohort get ready to leave to take Emma back to Paris. The nuns gather in the courtyard to say goodbye, and Killian pulls Tink into a hug.

“Keep out of trouble. Tink.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trouble follows you, not me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “We were ambushed outside your convent, so I’d say this trouble was following you.”

But she doesn’t laugh. Her eyes flicker over Killian’s shoulder, to where he knows Emma is saying goodbye to some of the other nuns, and she says, quietly, “You’ll be careful, right?”

He nods, though he can’t help the swoosh of trepidation in his stomach; they’ve survived this attack, and the potential consequences of the other night weigh are beginning to weight heavily on his shoulders.

He forces those thoughts away when they leave the convent behind, leaving what happened with Emma behind him there too. Though Emma was talking about their kiss when she said it, Killian knows a one time thing is truly what their night at the convent will have to be.

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs mc ff #fic: if the stars align

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