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miracle-sham · 3 years

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In the Atelier's Glow the Pupa Phoebus will Eclose.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 10: Light} |

Chapter 2 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

———

| Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed. |

| The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power. |

| Word Count: 7,220. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Mentions of Guns, Gun Violence, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Brainwashing, Implied Brainwashing & Torture, Injury, Threats of Violence & Violence, Akumatised!Marinette, Fluff & Angst, Hurt with some Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: First things first, make sure you've read the first chap before reading this. Second things second, this chapter is a chapter and half. And it's the final chapter! I hope this being 7k more than makes up for it being a day late to posting! I put a lot of love and time and effort into this, so I really hope you all enjoy. And for peak atmosphere, listen to Wonder World by Inova (first song on the playlist) during the first two parts, for optimum atmosphere! Not necessary if you'd prefer not to of course, but still. There's also a ton of light and butterfly symbolism stuffed in this, so try and see how much you can spot! |

| On a sidenote, this fic is dedicated to my friend Saf who listened to me ramble about this fic, and in turn rambled to me whenever I gave her sneak peak snippets. This wouldn't have ended up half as good as it did without her support! Also thanks to Weird for the support, compliments, reaction to the snippets, and kind words as well! And finally, thanks to everyone on the discord who was supportive and kind whenever I rambled in my author's channel! <3 |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed.

The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power.

Broken wires cause lights to flicker and dim. They don't glow as brightly as they could—as they should. They crackle and buzz and burn and scorch and smoke, causing only destruction; when light should only be used for creation.

That's why the Atelier Agreste specialise in fixing broken wings and wires. The brightness of tomorrow splinters the darkness of today, the business proclaims.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng is merely the latest of the poor misguided larvae, with their shade-like masks and unfortunate frayed wires, to be rehabilitated into an enlightened pupa under Gabriel Agreste's watchful care.

Truly, the discarding of a mask that kept the Pupa in the dark, and the Pupa's embracement of the Atelier's radiant glow marks a wondrous occasion indeed.

How glorious it will be, an unveiling of the newest Atelier Agreste designer's début? The welcoming of a new Papillon among the ranks, especially one that shines so brightly. Phoebus, like the butterfly and the god of light. What a fitting name for the butterfly that will glow like the sun.

———

Marinette—no, not Marinette, she is Phoebus. She is light, and her glow has been fixed.

Stitch by stitch, she sews herself a collection of chrysalises. To represent her transformation that has been nurtured by the Atelier, Monsieur Agreste had said.

Stitch by stitch by stitch. She must make him proud, he's done so much for her. He saved her from the darkness, showed her the light and how to glow just as brightly herself. She owes him everything.

Stitch by stitch by stitch by stitch. Lila—no, Rubi, after Macrothylacia Rubi, the Fox Moth—visits sometimes. She's pretty, and likes to keep Phoebus company, telling her all about the incredible things Rubi has done and people Rubi has met. She's like Phoebus, taken in and nurtured by the Atelier Agreste. Phoebus hopes Rubi will be one of her chrysalis models.

Stitch. And anchor, and anchor, then up. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Phoebus hears the sound of the studio door opening but she does not stop. Her chrysalises must be perfect, she must finish them in time. Thread the needle and anchor.

Footsteps stride across the studio floor but still Phoebus does not stray her attention from her work. Stitch by stitch.

“Good morning, Pupa, I hope the final preparations for your début are going accordingly.” Monsieur Agreste greets.

Her hands still, work halting. The Pupa Phoebus turns away from the fashion piece before her, and smiles, as brightly as her namesake, up at him. “It is.”

There's a hollowness inside her. And smiling at him makes the hollowness ache but Phoebus does not know why. Monsieur Agreste does not like it when she asks bad-dark-broken-frayed questions like that, so she says nothing more and nothing less. She will be his perfect protégé. He said so, and so she must.

He nods approvingly. “Good. I expect only perfection from you and your work. Do not forget, once the fashion show starts it will mark your eclosion into my Atelier once and for all.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods her head, eyes shining almost too brightly in the studio's lights.“I will ensure everything is to perfection for my début.”

Her actions and words are as doll-like as her title. For she was once named Marinette, which is close to Marionette. Marionettes are dolls. And Pupa once meant doll. Like a doll, she is so painfully hollow inside. But like a doll, she is perfect. She must be.

Monsieur Agreste does not sneer at her but his lips curl in a way that makes the darkness inside her claim he is mocking her.

“The set designers have informed me the catwalk has been transformed into the river Lethe. Isn't it rather fitting?” He pauses, watching her with sharp eyes for her reaction.

She nods. That is what she is supposed to do. It is fitting because he has said so. And Monsieur Agreste is always right.

“After all,” he continues, seemingly satisfied with her response, “it was once believed that the dead may only be reincarnated upon drinking from the Lethe and giving up their memories. And you gave up your memories of pain to be reformed as a butterfly that will shine ever so brightly, my protégé.”

“Oh,” Phoebus responds, tilting her head to one side as her smile wavers for but a fraction of a second. There's something flickering in the back of her head, behind her eyes; splintered memories, nothing substantial but the ghosts—Fantômes, the darkness whispers—of them linger.

The taste of iron, harsh white lights, cold glowing white strands chaining her fragile wire wings to the ground, lights—so many dancing lights, and the sharp electric zaps. She shouldn't try to parse what they mean, what they herald. Remembering the Before is bad, when she was a poor unfortunate Larva who fell through the cracks into the shadows and gutters. She is a Pupa now, and Pupa change. They become better, brighter, than they ever could achieve as Larvae.

Monsieur Agreste picks up on her moment of lapse, his eyes narrowing in what must be concern. “Is something wrong, Pupa?”

Phoebus shakes her head. “I am just anticipating how my début will go.”

He hums, unconvinced.

Understandable—she is not meant to lie, not to him. It is not how a Pupa should act.

“Perhaps you should take a break so we can ensure you've not damaged your light by working so hard. It wouldn't do to have your glow flicker and dim mid-début.” Monsieur Agreste states, pulling his tablet out already to schedule a check-up.

The Pupa Phoebus widens her bright yet hollow smile. “Oh, that is a good idea! A break would be most appreciated, Monsieur Agreste!”

Monsieur Agreste does not laugh but he huffs in what must be amusement. “How unfortunate that it took so long to rescue and take you under my wing. You will do well as one of my Papillons here.” He pauses to adjust his glasses, the light shining on them in a way that makes the lenses appear opaque. “I didn't think I'd get another specimen such as yourself, so perfectly adapted for becoming a Pupa and then a Papillon.”

His not-sneer unfurls into a grin, one that makes the darkness whisper danger. He steps around her, to get a different angle view of her work, and stares pointedly at the fine detailing. “It is a great shame that my son and my nephew have both become wretched larvae like you once were, instead of wonderful Pupae like you've now become.”

“You deserve a better son and nephew, Monsieur Agreste.” Phoebus recites from the script burnt into her mind, though she does not remember when or why she memorised it.

“I do, don't I.” Monsieur Agreste considers in contempt. “That can easily be achieved as soon as my men rescue him from the clutches of those vile Larvae. We believe the ones who held you captive and forced you to work for them, are the same ones who hold both my son and nephew now.”

“Oh.” Phoebus responds, getting the feel that Monsieur Agreste is testing her. Perhaps to ensure no feelings of Stockholm Syndrome remain for her previous captors? Yes, that must be it. How thoughtful and caring of Monsieur Agreste. “That is awful, hopefully, they can be saved soon!”

Monsieur Agreste hums, seemingly in agreement this time. “Hopefully indeed. And once we rescue them, they can then be taught to embrace the radiance my company brings to this world, just as you were taught.”

He places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes. “And you, my dear Pupa, can help my son and nephew stitch their Chrysalises. For they are both models, like Rubi. Wouldn't that be nice, two additional fellow Papillons for you to befriend, wouldn't that make you very happy?”

Phoebus nods at a perfectly acceptable speed to relay her happiness and excitement. “Yes! That would be wonderful! I would be so happy if that were to happen!”

And yet, the darkness inside her wails and grieves as she utters each word but Phoebus does not understand why.

“Good,” Monsieur Agreste states, “that is very good to hear. Now, I shall return when your break is ready.” He turns around and strides towards the door, stilling at the threshold. “My wife will prepare high tea for you to join her at, once your break is ready.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods, fingers twitching as she turns back to meticulously stitching her chrysalises. “Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, I cannot wait!”

He huffs in what must be amusement again, “I would hope so, Pupa.”

If she didn't know better, the Pupa Phoebus would wonder why the silver butterfly necklace feels more like shackles than a gift. Why the darkness begs her to break the chains.

———

Three months. Three fucking months. Of nothing. Not a whisper on the news or in the underground, no public proclamations of the capture of one of the co-leaders of the most notorious gangs in the city. Nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Three fucking months she's been gone and not a word about what happened.

Jason sits crouched on the sofa, head in his hands. A coffee is placed on the table in front of him, he can tell from the smell, and the sound of the liquid sloshing about inside the cardboard cup.

“Marinette used to like coffee…” Jason bemoans, half-serious, half-jokingly.

Something shatters in the next room over, the kitchen most likely from the sounds of it.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. Jason!” Alix hiss-screeches, from the same place as the shattering, like an angry kitten on roller skates. “You've said that meme every day for the last month! I'm going to murder you!”

Adrien, who's been sitting on top of the side cabinets, throws his head forwards and barely manages to stifle the laugh by slapping a hand over his mouth. He wheezes for a few seconds as he gets his laughter, and breathing under control again.

Félix snorts from where he's curled up in a cushioned armchair. “Alix has a point, you know. We understand you miss her but as do we.”

“Shhh! You'll disturb him!” Roy shushes, grinning mischievously as he stands behind the sofa. Putting on his best David Attenborough impression, he begins to recite, “here we have the rare Jasonarches Toddamentum brooding in his natural habitat. Lamenting the loss of one of his pack, specifically his co-alpha—”

Jason whips around to face Roy and launches the nearest pillow from the sofa at him, before he can continue the mockumentary. “Co-alphas? Really? That's the best you could come up with! C'mon man!”

Yelping, Roy ducks but not quick enough as the pillow smacks him in the right shoulder and flops onto the floor.

Nodding mock sagely, Félix sighs. “We expected better from you, Roy.”

“Yeah, Roy.” Kori teases, passing a second coffee in her hands over to him.

Placing a hand over his heart, Roy gasps. “Wow! The betrayal!” he complains as he grabs at the coffee and cradles it to his chest with the other. “And thanks, Kori! For the coffee, not the betrayal!”

“Ah, friends?” Markov calls cautiously as he hovers into the room, anxiety lacing his robotic voice, claws fiddling with the corner of what looks to be an envelope.

Immediately the jovial atmosphere splinters and everyone stills. Everyone except Artemis and Alix who walk, and roll into the room respectively, at that precise moment. Both hovering by the respective door frames they entered through, coincidentally opposite each other. Artemis crosses her arms, whilst Alix grabs the door frame with one hand to steady herself.

Jason tenses and glances over at the little AI. “Everything okay, Markov?”

Markov fretfully swings his claw arm around. “One of our couriers was handed a letter.”

“Did they bring it here?” Jason questions, brows furrowing in worry.

Markov shakes his head. “The courier handed it to a third-party forger, and created the forgery I am now holding. It is addressed to Adrien, and Félix.”

Adrien sucks in a sharp breath, he turns to exchange a look with Félix. “You don't think it's…” He trails off, unwilling to say it out loud in case it makes it any more likely.

Grimacing, Félix nods. “It has to be. It was rather publicly known when you were "kidnapped",” he states, making quotation marks with his fingers as he stressed the word, “by this gang. Less so when you spearheaded my "kidnapping", with them.”

“Yeah… that's. We didn't think that through.” Adrien admits, scrunching his mouth up in concern. “But! If that didn't happen, I wouldn't have gotten to use Cheval Mallet as my vigilante name, which is a plus at least!”

Félix huffs bitterly. “Oh, because getting to use a vigilante name that fits thematically is completely and utterly worth getting targeted by the Big Butterfly himself?”

“In my defence—” Adrien starts, only to shut his mouth again as words fail him. “Nevermind, you've got a point.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “More importantly, we need to decide what we're doing about this.”

“We need to actually see what is inside the envelope, first.” Félix counters, marching over to Markov.

Markov dips in the air in lieu of a nod and extends his claw-arm to hand Félix the envelope. “Here you go, friend!”

“Thank you, Markov.” Félix responds, nodding his head to the little AI as he takes the extended envelope. He marches back over to Adrien and slips out the disguised knife pen out of his pocket, before carefully slicing the top of the envelope open like one would do with a letter opener. Plucking the letter from inside, he holds it at an angle so only he and Adrien can read what has been written.

Seconds pass.

Swearing under his breath, Adrien glances up at Jason with panic clear in his eyes. “It's… it's from Kagami. She's been compromised, the Big Butterfly knows she was in contact with us. He and her mother have forced her to invite us to the Big Butterfly's upcoming fashion show…”

“She's worried that it's a trap, to capture us both so that they can… do to us what they did to my mother, and all of his Papillons.” Félix continues in Adrien's stead, barely able to conceal the dawning horror on his face.

Artemis moves towards them and asks as softly as she can, brows furrowing in concern. “And what exactly, did they do to your mother?”

He swallows a breath of air thickly. “Adrien's mother went missing a few years ago. And so my mother and I visited Adrien and his sperm donor as we were all grieving. However, I started to notice things seemed off and before either of us realised, the Big Butterfly was parading my mother around in front of the news and media pretending she was her twin sister instead. Even at home, she started treating me like Adrien's mother had.”

“What the fuck! Are you saying the Big Butterfly brainwashed your mom?” Jason exclaims, eyes wide with a mixture of horror, disgust, and alarm.

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. The Big Butterfly brainwashed my mum into believing she was Aunt Emilie, purely so that he could keep appearances up in front of the cameras.” Félix confirms, hands balled into fists and shaking ever so slightly. “When Adrien got out and joined here, I stumbled across the Big Butterfly's plans to replace Adrien by doing the same to me. If you all hadn't helped me get out in time…” He chokes up, unable to get the next words out of his mouth.

“That is truly despicable. I'm sorry.” Artemis apologises, looking equally disturbed by the information.

“Shit.” Roy mutters, glancing between Félix and Adrien. “What do we do? We can't just let another innocent get fucking brainwashed!”

Kori purses her lips. “I think,” she starts, giving an understanding look at the two, “we should let Adrien and Félix decide. They are the most familiar with the Big Butterfly, this Kagami, and the situation as a whole.”

Clearing her throat, Alix roller skates a little closer to others. “Guys, you don't think…” she trails off, trying to find her words but also torn over whether saying it out loud will make it true, “you don't think that's what's happened to Marinette? It would explain why we've heard nothing from her or Roaar since she disappeared.”

“Holy fucking shit! I'm going to burn that fucking bastard and his fucking fashion show to the ground if he fucking dared!” Hisses Jason, his eyes flaring toxic green as the fury of the Lazarus Pit burns in his veins. He digs his nails into the fabric of the sofa and his lips curl into a near-frenzied snarl.

“Woah, woah! Jason, calm the fuck down! That might not be what's happened!” Roy intercepts, grabbing Jason by the shoulder.

Jason turns to glare at Roy. “But it also might be what happened to her!”

“We should go.” Adrien cuts in sharply, “Max can get the rest of you in via hacking. Félix and I will be the distraction, and I'll bring Kaalki so we have a quick escape in case things go wrong. Whilst everyone else who goes to the show needs to focus on getting Kagami out. Then once that's done, we can try and look for anything that suggests they've got Marinette. And if we find Marinette, we get her out as well.”

Félix nods. “That's a good enough plan for me.”

Smiling bitterly, Adrien tilts his head to one side. “So, who else is up for crashing the show?”

Kori, Roy, Artemis, and Alix all exchange glances before nodding.

“Max and I are in!” Markov pipes up, hovering up in a swing.

“That leaves, who's telling Luka, and Bizarro they're holding down the fort this time?” Jason mutters.

“Dibs not it!” Everyone but Artemis calls out.

She rolls her eyes at the antics of the others. “I will tell the two of them their roles for this mission. Don't worry.”

Jason hums. “We could also probably call in a favour with the Sparrow kid that you,” he nods towards Adrien, “and Marinette befriended. Not to hold down the fort but to help cover us at the fashion show?”

“Oh! I'm sure Sparrow will be more than happy to help! That's a great idea!” Adrien cheers, perking up slightly.

Moving over to the coffee table, Félix places the letter down in the centre. “Right. Let's get ourselves ready to crash a fashion show.”

———

Adrien and Félix both don a light disguise. One that's easy enough to recognise them on a closer inspection but subtle enough to not attract immediate attention.

The others, in heavier disguises, had arrived early and gotten in already—split between two teams. One with hacked tickets, and the other through breaking and entering, the gang's speciality. Sparrow had also been more than happy to help and had roped in a few others from their gang, the Quantic Kids, into helping watch the outside of the building.

Leaving Félix and Adrien to arrive together, separate from the rest of the gang; they make sure to arrive slightly late to try and avoid the worst of the crowds. Approaching the doors, they hand over their tickets and try to appear as nonchalant as possible.

The nearest android guard eyes their tickets and puts out a hand. “Wait.”

“Is there something wrong with our tickets, sir?” Félix asks, smiling sweetly enough to hide the undercurrent of threat.

The android guard nods their head at another then looks the two up and down in a scrutinising—analysing fashion. “We have explicit orders to escort anyone with these tickets to the seats.”

Adrien grimaces. “Understood, lead the way then.”

The android guards exchange nods once more, then the one slightly further away pulls out a radio and starts quietly reporting into it, too low for either Félix or Adrien to catch anything. Useful or otherwise.

“Follow me.” Says the nearer one as they start walking away.

Félix sighs and lightly knocks shoulders with Adrien as a reminder of solidarity as well as to get ready. Waiting for only a second, they both start following after the guard. Félix adjusts the secret mic and camera attached to his tie, ensuring that it was now transmitting its feed to Max and Markov, as well as Luka back at base.

Next to him, Adrien does the same with his own tie and attached secret mic and camera.

They're led down a few hallways, up a couple of winding staircases, and down a few more hallways before the guard stops outside a door with a metal sign on it reading: Private.

“Your seats are through here.” The android guard says, slotting a keycard into the door, causing a glowing keypad panel to open up in the centre. Then, the android guard scans a digital code into the door and the door swings open before it.

Adrien nods to the android guard and tugs Félix after him as he strides across the threshold, head held high.

There's a shriek, as they pass through the door, and a body slams into Adrien and it's only thanks to his vigilante instincts that he doesn't drop the body.

“Oh, Adrikins!” Chloé cries out, hugging him tightly. “I can't believe you're back!” She lets go of him for a second to step back and check out his outfit. “Urgh, you could do with some better clothes though. It's fine,” she says, waving a hand, “after today's show we can go on a shopping trip together!”

Adrien smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly responds, “yeah… it's nice to see you again too, Chloé.”

Félix, the traitor, snickers at Adrien's predicament and steps around the two to fully enter the room. The android guard does not follow, and the door shuts automatically behind them.

Inside, is a private bar and lounge with double doors on the far wall, opposite the 'Private' entry door.

Kagami glances up from her place from the sofa against the wall with the double doors. She raises an eyebrow. “It is good to see that you made it here safely.”

“As safe as we could.” Félix grunts, delicately dropping into the seat next to her on the sofa.

She hums, tuning out Chloé's screeching with practised ease. “How are the horse-related magic tricks you were working on going?”

“Pretty well, though I don't suppose Father will be all too pleased with the one I plan to practise tonight,” Félix responds.

Kagami relaxes her shoulders in relief for a split second. “Oh? And what sort of magic trick is it?”

“I've dubbed it: Call a Key. And it's like those pull a rabbit from a hat tricks but with a horse from a hoop.” He says, drawing a circle in the air. A circle that just so happens to be the same size and shape as Kaalki's average portals.

“I see,” Kagami says, nodding, “well, perhaps after tonight's show, you won't mind showing me it so far?”

Félix grins, “I'd love to, Kagami.”

Their conversation lulls into silence, so Félix hops off the sofa and goes over to the private bar to fix himself and Adrien some drinks. Seeing as Chloé was showing no signs of letting his cousin go at the moment. A potential hazard for the plan, he worries. With drinks in hand, he rejoins Kagami by the sofa.

An announcement rings out over the loudspeakers on the walls as the double doors swing open in a slow and controlled manner.

“That, is our cue that the show will be starting soon,” Kagami mutters to him. She takes a deep breath and raises her voice, “Chloé, Adrien, it is time we take our seats for the show.”

Chloé squeals, forcefully dragging Adrien across the private lounge and through onto the balcony where their booth seats are.

Sighing, Félix follows after the two with Kagami a few steps behind him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you managed to make it to today's fashion show, Adrikins!” Chloé exclaims, clutching at Adrien's arm like a hawk and gesturing wildly with the other. “It's so nice of your daddy to hold this show in the theatre so we could have a private booth together to watch the show! And it's going to be a really special show from what I've overheard, Gabriel's débuting a new and upcoming fashion designer! Isn't that so exciting, I'm sure your daddy will let you model for them now that you're back! After all,” she scoffs, “he's letting that peasant fox model for the designer today.”

“Is that so?” Adrien responds, glancing at Félix with deep-seated worry etched into his stare.

Félix clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

Frowning, Kagami taps Félix on the arm and sends him a questioning glance.

“We'll explain it later.” He mumbles quietly enough for her to just hear.

Below them, the sounds of people taking their seats echoes. A few minutes pass, Félix and Kagami make minor small talk whilst Adrien is forced to listen to Chloé prattle on.

The main lights dim and then go out, plunging the room into darkness. The curtains rise, from the sounds of the heavy and large swathes of fabric moving on the pulleys.

Classical music starts playing—not unlike the music Adrien used to learn on the piano. And one by one, the lights in the shape of asphodels flicker to life on the stage, illuminating a sea of the flowers surrounding a catwalk designed like a river carving through the land. White marble Greco-Esque pillars and arches litter the flower fields. Framing the scene, is the blank white wall at the back of the catwalk and stage. The lighting shifts to cast spotlights on the wall behind the catwalk.

Félix tunes out the rest of the show starting, instead putting all his focus in searching for any security watching their booth, as well as for any sign of Marinette.

The show continues on, slowly models wearing pieces designed like asphodels, butterflies, and cocoons or chrysalises strut up and down the catwalk. The spotlights follow them, making the pieces and models appear to glow under the light.

Luckily, there's no obvious security paying attention to their booth. But that doesn't mean they're in the clear, for all they know, Gabriel could have bugged the place to the rafters. They had worked out before entering, that they'd have to leave before the end of the show. Otherwise, they'd most likely be captured and brainwashed just like Félix's mum.

A new announcement from the stage gives both Adrien and Félix pause, neither having fully caught what was said other than mentions of the reveal of the designer. They tense and try to hide the signs of their anxious anticipation. The flickering flame of hope in their chests threatens to extinguish from the worry that this could be what they feared it to be.

The lights and spotlights on stage all dim; whilst the music fades to a quieter volume. The almost deafening echoing clack-clack-clack of heels against the catwalk seems so much louder than when the models in heels had been walking across it.

Félix holds his breath and clasps his hands together tightly. Adrien leans forwards to get a better look over at the stage. They should be nudging Kagami and getting ready to go by now but they can't will themselves to look away. Like a tragedy; a car catching fire and about to crash.

A figure in a chrysalis dress steps onto the catwalk. Step by step by step, they slowly walk to the end of the catwalk. The faint glow of the lights still perfectly illuminates the figure's face though.

And Adrien's heart stops. “No!”

“What? Is that—?” Chloé starts, only to be interrupted by the cacophonous roar of a standing ovation from the rest of the audience.

Félix, Adrien, and Kagami all pale in horror.

“That's… that's Marinette.” Kagami whispers to Félix, her panic thinly veiled.

Stiffly, Félix nods and swallows a breath of air thickly. “So. Minor change of plans.”

“I can see why.” Kagami responds automatically, in horror.

On the catwalk below, the dress shimmers and appears to crack. Shadowy mist seeping from the cracks is followed by a blinding glow eviscerating the darkness. From the cracks, the outer layers of the dress splinter away, and the layers below begin to unfurl. Bright white, beautiful butterfly wings edged with black and the odd symmetrical red spots.

Gabriel Agreste, Papillon, joins her on the stage. “Isn't this such a momentous and wonderful occasion? Tonight, we have witnessed the eclosion of a new Papillon within the Atelier Agreste. And I'm delighted by the bright welcome Phoebus has received.”

At the call of her Papillon name, Phoebus bows.

Félix's heartbeat pounds in his ears, nearly drowning out Gabriel's words.

Before he, or Adrien, can react, there's a buzzing in his ear from the disguised earpiece comms.

“Félix. Adrien. Get Kagami and get out! Now!” Max's voice filters through, “they're sending a reinforcement of guards towards your location. I'll try to hack them but it'll be close!”

Standing abruptly, Adrien yanks himself away from Chloé's death grip.

“Wha—Adrikins!” She protests, still too shocked by the revelation of the new designer having been Marinette, to try and stop him.

Adrien backs away into the private lounge, flushing red with embarrassment. “Sorry Chloé, I-uh… need to use the men's room. Be-right-back!”

He turns heel and makes his way over to the opposite door and yanks it open.

Félix stares at Adrien in disbelief before nodding at Kagami and grabbing her by the arm. He does not so much run, as speed walk after Adrien.

The second all three of them are clear of the private door's threshold, Kagami kicks her foot back to shut the door behind them. The three then start sprinting down the halls.

The hidden earpiece crackles again. “You three and Jason are the nearest to the backstage where Marinette will be soon. I'll lead the four of you towards the location, just follow my directions and don't do anything stupid once Jason joins you.”

“No promises,” Adrien mutters in response. “I'm seriously considering committing patricide at this point.”

Max doesn't immediately respond, presumably having switched channels to help deal with the others, or get out himself.

Less than a minute later, the earpiece crackles again, but this time it's Luka who starts relaying the directions to the backstage whilst keeping them updated on both human and android guards as well as security camera positions.

“You're halfway there, Jason should be just through the third door on the right.” Luka informs, sounding calm but they know him too well to not hear the veneer of fury beneath every word.

Adrien yanks open the third door on the right open, and lo and behold, Jason is sprinting past the open door in the corridor it leads to.

“Wait up!” Félix hisses after Jason.

It seems Jason manages to hear him and skids on the balls of his steel-toed boots, scratching up the wooden flooring, to stare at them with his green eyes blazing. “Alix was fucking right.” He bites out.

“We are coming with you, to save her.” Kagami states, looking equally furious.

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Then c'mon, we need to run.”

The four exchange nods and glances and burst into a sprint down the hallway, following Luka's directions.

Direction after direction after direction. It feels like Luka relays to them hundreds of those endless directions before the four of them reach a long hallway with double doors at the end that has a large sign above it, labelled: Backstage.

Skidding to a stop again, Jason holds out an arm to stop the others as well. “As much as I want to run in, laser guns a-blazin', who knows what kinda fucking security shit they've got ready for us.”

Adrien grimaces. “But they knew we didn't know that they have Marinette. So why would they prepare security for us rescuing her when they're trying to capture us?”

“Have you forgotten how much security the Big Butterfly placed around my mother, after brainwashing her? Public spectacles like this always involve far too much security around the shining star of the show!” Félix spits acerbically, fists shaking, breathing shallow.

Adrien places a hand on his shoulder. “Worst case situation, we can get Kaalki to get us out and we can try and rescue Marinette another time.”

Jason scowls. “If we're forced to do that, I want to shoot that fucker's skull in first.”

“Technically, shouldn't Adrien get right of shooting him before you?” Kagami asks, half-smiling that awkward smile of hers.

Huffing, Jason nods to Adrien. “Fine, but I dibs second shot then. And if you go for the skull, I'm shooting that bastard in the fucking dick.”

Adrien makes a choking noise and doubles over, barely managing to stifle his laughter. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes tears away from his eyes. “Deal!” He wheezes, “please, I'd like nothing more than for you to get the second shot and do that!”

“Good fucking choice,” Jason mutters in response, a cheeky grin crossing his face for but a second before it falls back to the furious snarl. “Now, let's see what's behind the doors and get our anthill tiger back!”

The earpieces Jason, Félix, and Adrien are wearing, buzz again. “Might want to hurry up.” Luka smoothly informs. “Three human guards are coming your way. And as far as Max can see through his hacking, there's no android guards or drones backstage.” He pauses, “the rest of our gang won't be able to reach you four in time, neither will Sparrow's. You're going solo.”

The four exchange quick glances among themselves. “That's a risk we're willing to take if it means getting Marinette back.”

“I'll keep you updated on any changes. Break a leg or three, especially try to break the Big Butterfly's legs if you can.” Luka responds.

Jason snorts. “We'll try our best.”

The channel goes silent, as Jason quietly opens the backstage doors and the four of them sneak through.

———

The show has ended, by the time the four of them arrive through the backstage doors. Jason spots a rack of clothes and gestures to the others to follow him as he creeps over to hide behind it.

She's there. Marinette—or Phoebus, as the Big Butterfly had called her. There in the centre of the backstage. Standing stock-still. Still dressed in that fucking chrysalis—butterfly dress. Like a creepy human-sized doll.

Jason focuses on his breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out. Trying not to let the sickly radioactive green flood his vision and veins.

He freezes as he watches the Big Butterfly himself stride up to her and circle her like a vulture.

“You did very well today, Phoebus.” The Big Butterfly says, with a sneer on his face. “Unfortunately, my son and Nephew have so rudely absconded from their booth before the show ended.”

The Papillon Phoebus dips her head, and ever so hollowly sounding, replies, “that is most unfortunate.”

It takes all Jason's concentration to not be sick at how empty she sounds and acts. He glances at the others and Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all look sickened by the sight.

The Big Butterfly's sneer morphs into a scowl. “It is indeed. However, Mademoiselle Bourgeois was able to inform us of something very interesting.”

Tilting her head to one side, the Papillon Phoebus stares blankly at him. “Oh?”

“Apparently, my son had quite the reaction to the sight of you on stage, my Papillon. Isn't that interesting.” The Big Butterfly taunts.

She blinks at him then nods slowly and stiffly. “Yes. That is very interesting, Monsieur Agreste.”

His scowl curls into a victorious sneer. “That's what I thought, my dear Papillon.”

Jason shakes, he can't watch any more of this fucking creepy-ass bastard messing with his gang co-leader. He whips both of his recently upgraded guns from their holsters and grips the handles with whitening knuckles.

Before the others can think to stop him, Jason dives out of cover and shoots his twin guns. Pew-pew!

The laser bolts slam into the back of the Big Butterfly, frying two circles into his suit and melting the material to his skin.

The Big Butterfly screams in pain and fury. He pivots in place to turn and glare at where the shots had come from. The light flashes across his glasses again, making the lenses appear opaque. As his gaze latches onto Jason, his victorious sneer splits and twists and unfurls into a monstrous smirk. He starts to laugh, like poison bubbling and frothing from his lips.

And as the Big Butterfly does, Jason catches sight of the glint of small purple flapping around the Papillon Phoebus'—Marinette's—neck.

The bubbling and frothing poison of an Akuma's transformation swirls around her, staining every speck of her and forming a glimmering chrysalis once more.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jason chants under his breath. Eyes wide with instant regret, he taps his earpiece. “We fucked up! Holy fucking shit, we fucked up!”

“What?!” Comes the frantic response from Luka. “What do you mean? What's happened? What did you do?”

Jason laughs nervously, “she's an Akuma! She's been fucking akumatised.”

“Hold on as long as possible, the others got swarmed by guards and can't reach you yet.” Luka frets.

At that, Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all burst out from behind the clothes rack, each with laser pistols also in hand. Zap-zap-zap.

The three more shots ring out but only one hits, Adrien and Félix both shaking too much for theirs to land.

“We shall try.” Félix responds to Luka.

The chrysalis-Akuma-poison coalesces around the Papillon Phoebus before cracking and dripping away. Revealing two large butterfly wings exactly like the dress. Phoebus wings. She flutters her wings and begins to float a metre or so above the ground.

“Fuck!” Jason curses, and behind him he can hear the other three echoing the sentiment. He stares at the purple butterfly chain around her throat. “Akuma is in the necklace!”

A bright light, not dissimilar to a flashbang, pops off. Immediately blinding all four of them.

“Capture them!” The Big Butterfly orders.

Kagami yelps.

The blindness caused by the light fades, and Adrien gasps. Jason swears under his breath again, and he and Félix both fire off more shots. This time towards the Akuma object, as the Big Butterfly has vanished.

Cocooned to the ground, Kagami squirms, trying to free herself from the Akuma's trap.

“Fucking shit!” Jason helpfully says on the earpiece channel. “She's trying to fucking capture us for the fucking bastard! And he's disappeared!” He bodily throws himself to the ground to dodge a mote of brilliant radiance lancing towards him.

The Papillon Phoebus tilts her head to the side, wings glittering with bright golden light like her namesake. Safely blocking the laser blasts towards her object with her massive wings.

Thankfully, only one of Kagami's hands is trapped. And not the one with the gun. As quietly as possible, she shoots the gun to slice through the cocoon and free herself.

The wings start to glow brighter and brighter and brighter.

“Flashbang!” Jason yells, diving behind cover in the form of a cluster of mannequins and slapping a hand over his eyes.

Kagami grabs Adrien and the two duck behind a different rack of clothes. Whilst Félix leaps over a stack of boxes and hides there.

The radiance flares once more, but fails to blind any of them.

“We need to shoot the object. I'll draw the attention at the front. Kagami, get behind and get ready to shoot her in the back as a distraction. Adrien and Félix, you two flank her on opposite sides.” Jason plans quietly into the earpiece channel.

Jason leaves his hiding spot first, vaulting over the cluster of mannequins and shoots a laser bolt at the Papillon Phoebus' necklace again. It's blocked by the wings, as to be expected.

Félix leaps back over the stack of boxes and flanks the Papillon Phoebus on the right. Whilst Adrien rolls out from behind the clothes rack and flanks on the left.

The three in position, shoot simultaneously at the Akuma, as to distract her.

Kagami bolts from her hiding spot and flanks behind the Papillon Phoebus.

The wings start to flutter and glow brighter once more.

“Now!” Jason yells.

Zap!

The blast slams into the Papillon Phoebus' back, right between where her wings connect to her shoulder blades. Instinctively she splays her wings out in pain and curls backwards.

Zap-zap!

Two more blasts slam into her, one in each wingtip.

Zap!

Finally, Jason shoots last and his aim is true. Crackle-snap!

The blast sears through the chain necklace, warping the metal and snapping it in twain.

The two parts of the object clatter to the ground and a purple butterfly claws itself out from the broken chains.

Jason spins his gun in his hand and shoots a final laser straight through the moth. Burning a perfect hole through its wings and killing it instantly. Purple Akuma-goop leaks from its injuries and then fades, leaving behind the scorched corpse of what was once a white butterfly.

He sighs in relief, and quickly taps his earpiece. “Akuma dealt with.”

As he says that, the Akuma de-transforms midair and Marinette collapses to the ground. Limp, like a puppet with their strings cut or a discarded doll—a cracked Pupa.

“Thank fuck.” Luka's responds over the channel, sounding tired.

Jason drags a hand down his face. The green poisoning his vision dissipates for the time being, and he hurries over to Marinette. Ever so carefully, he scoops her into his arms—bridal style—and pulls her close to his chest.

Kagami drops to her knees and breathes.

Adrien weakly punches the air with his gun in hand. “Wooh! Luka, we're calling a key home. Disable security please?”

Félix snorts, moving back to lean against the stack of boxes.

“No need, there's no security cameras backstage. I'll hear your songs when you back at base.” Luka relays, tone light with happiness and relief despite the tiredness. “The others have dealt with the guards, so they're on their way back too.”

Adrien transforms with Kaalki, becoming Cheval Mallet. He walks over to Kagami and offers her a hand. Félix, and Jason with Marinette unconscious in his arms join them.

The portal opens up before them, and they walk through together. Today, they've won another battle. Tomorrow they'll try to find out what has been done to Marinette. But tonight, tonight all the conscious members of the gang huddle together in the lounge. And among themselves, they build a pillow and blanket fort, and relax.

They're all together, and they're all safe, for once.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| So title dissection, Atelier meaning Fashion Studio comes from the Latin "Astula" meaning "Splinter", Astula also is the Genus for the flower Asphodel. Phoebus as mentioned in the fic is the god of light but it also means "Bright". Eclose is the leaving of a cocoon/chrysalis. Pupa is another term for cocoon/chrysalis when the butterfly/moth becomes soup and goes through metamorphosis. But it also comes from the Latin meaning Girl or Doll. So In the Fashion Studio's Glow, the Bright/Light Doll will be Released. |

| Fun Fact: Larva/Larvae mean Mask or Ghost in Latin. Also the suffix "Arches" means Leader/Ruler. So Jasonarches means Jason-Leader :3 |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

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netherborn · 5 years

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* / / @southstuck didn’t ask for this, but is getting it anyway. ♡

things have been, as of late, a HORRID form of tense between the two of them and the way that they handle one another. it is ALMOST ( if not MORE ) awkward than when they had first gotten together a damn near decade ago, a crash course in trying to figure out the delightfully intricate territories of a real relationship. akin to that time, it feels as though they are now firmly locked in the uncharted waters of can we make this work, or should we just throw in the towel? except kenny is STUBBORN, and he would rather put five consecutive bullets through his own skull and ACTUALLY SURVIVE than give up on everything they have worked so hard to achieve.

WHO CARES if they’re arch enemies?? WHO CARES if he has been sharing a bed with south park’s biggest trouble-maker, the one person in the entire city who knows how to get under his MYSTERION’S skin like it is as easy as stealing candy from a baby. big deal, right? so, okay, kenny has definitely needed the adjustment period, and there are definitely still things he is getting used to, but butters is his fucking BOYFRIEND, and he loves him. more than anything. and THAT is why he has brought butters flowers to work, at his job... which is... at a flower shop.

kenny is cringing when he pushes through the pastel purple door. it had sounded better in his head by a LONG shot, but it’s too late now, and it isn’t the first time he’s done something as cheesy as this. he KNOWS it’ll warm butters’ heart, regardless of how lame it’s starting to sound to kenny. that much, at least, has not changed; their molecular understanding of each other remains in tact. it’s why kenny is willing to even TRY despite everything going on. he walks up to the counter where the shop’s elderly owner is doing something at the register, and clears his throat to get her attention. when she looks up and sees that it is him, she smiles, and kenny returns it with one of his own sheepish ones. “Is it cool if I borrow Leo?” he asks pleasantly, happy that old ladies ADORE him when she says absolutely, kenneth, and points him towards the back where butters must be tending to the nursery.

when kenny steps out into the attached greenhouse, it is easy to spot his boyfriend at the end of the larger center aisle, bent over a pot of brightly colored flowers that kenny couldn’t tell you the names of on the basis of life or death. knowing plants is BUTTERS’ thing, not his. seeing him, though, even when he saw him just this morning, fills kenny’s stomach with the angry fluttering of wings, nerves releasing from their chrysalises and hatching into full grown butterflies. it has NOTHING to do with how weird things are right now -- - that’s just how butters ALWAYS makes him feel. like he is seven years younger, kissing butters for the first time, or slightly older than that and lowering butters down to the living room floor of their first apartment. he makes him feel like a CACOPHONY of fragile firsts, legs like jello as he sneaks up behind butters and clears his throat to alert him to his presence.

“Hey.” and when butters turns to look at him, shocked to see him, everything inside of kenny softens into mush, his hands wagging the small bouquet back and forth gently as he gives his boyfriend an extremely gentle look. “I got you somethin’. Obviously. Because you have eyes, and can see that -- - ANYWAY, hey. Surprise.”

a peace offering for their warring hearts, the foundation of a bridge to help them move on, no more bullshitting. no more dancing around the other awkwardly in the mornings and at night, no more hesitancy in touches that used to be bold. if he’s gotta woo butters a second time, then he damn well WILL. but he isn’t letting go, and he isn’t giving up. they have a future together, and nothing is going to ruin that for them. kenny is going to make damn SURE of that.

#southstuck #verse ; 001. / / the symbol that south park needs ( main )

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starsailorstories · 5 years

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“500 Babies is A Lot Of Babies,” or, a post about astraea Mothers and genviae

I’ve not gotten too deeply into this because it’s not something that many of my characters are directly touched by (after all, most of them are lux, made in factories and necessarily motherless) and also because I recognize that it is Weird, but Mothers and the specific conditions they need to have children are a pretty major factor in why astraea society has developed along the lines that it has, and it’s hinted at through things people say, so I think it’s important that these questions have canon answers even if I never Get Into All This in the books beyond the extent that’s needed to understand the clone-class situation. I feel like someone was going to ask eventually so, yknow, it’s out there

Fidelity Fortefemen Vega-Revoni half-reclines, in respectable fashion, on a sofa in the fonsilia collonade; solelas stuck flush against her cheeks; shoulders veiled in her long, dark curls; curls veiled in the mantillas of Ouria’s sacred moon. It’s mid-summer, and her body glows softly through the loose weave of her dress; soon she will sleep for the second time. The grey-haired colony midwives attend her constantly, hovering at her extremities with vapor-pipes and paper fans [....] the basic dynamics of the Vega sisters survived the marriage intact until the delivery of Fidelity’s first genvia. At that instant--when Chivalry was seven and a half quinturns old--the sister she and Dignity had known suddenly became honora pecara, the future hope of the family name and the nucleus around which life at Fortune Flats revolved.

The above (from the vol. 3 draft) is a glimpse of the figure around which, by the conservative/traditionalist ideal, all astraea life is meant to revolve--the titled, landholding colony Mother, who is seen as a giver and sustainer of life on both the biological and social level.

Mothers are born with some characteristics specific to their reproductive capability--they tend to be bigger and may have specific markings or other bits, depending on species (for a bunch of species, including Basillans and Caesurans, mothers are born with spots on their faces that fade away as they get older; a few cultures, like the Zasci on Caesura, tattoo these into place so they don’t).

From birth they carry a mini-nebula in an abdominal pocket--it’s the same spot where a human might have a womb, but a bit of a different structure. What happens inside an astraea Mother before she “gives birth” (to chrysalises, not live babies) is basically akin to the start of the stellar life cycle. Her nebular material begins to form protostars, which start to produce light as they develop the potential to form a baby once in a chrysalis.

Mothers usually get glowy every few planetary cycles, often in accordance with shifts in atmospheric pressure (which may have some role in how they take in nutrients from the air). It’s quite easy to halt the process here, if 500-800 new children and a nearly two-(earth) year-long gestation process wouldn’t be convenient for the Mother or the colony, with various medications.

If the process isn’t halted, the Mother will eventually need to go into a hibernation-like state to take in and consolidate trace solids from the atmosphere with which to spin chrysalises. The hibernation prevents too many of these solids from being burned up in her light, which can be deadly. Before astraea species developed their current understanding of this state, it was common for Mothers to simply be out of commission for months with no resulting children--if a certain amount of solid matter isn’t breathed in and stored in specific organ systems (the same ones they use to regrow limbs and stuff) the protostars will simply disperse inside her body and the process starts over from scratch.

But with the proper atmospheric composition--nowadays often delivered by a pneumatic pump fastened directly to one of her spiracles, just to take all the variables out of the equation--the Mother will eventually rouse and start to produce silk from spinnerets on her inner thighs. The bit that follows looks a lot like human childbirth with two key differences: first, the “baby” is just a little glowing blip that’s born into a kind of bag made outside the body, and second, any astraea who has ever been involved in the process will tell you that the hibernation period is the part that, you know, sucks. That’s their equivalent to human labor. The actual birth event--which is called a genvia, as is the particular “batch” of children born in said event--is usually very peaceful and repetitive, with drama occurring only if the Mother runs out of natural silk before she runs out of nebular globes (for which there are fairly easy-to-operate artificial-cocoon incubators--this tech was actually part of what got the cloning industry started).

Chrysalises are mostly air, with superstrong carbon-based tissue (?) woven around. The Mother usually just detaches them from her body and lays them out somewhere comfortable where they can be easily checked on and where the babies will be safe once they start to hatch, which uhhhh they do by chewing their way out. There is no way to make that not sound like a creepy sci fi monster of the week thing but it’s just normal to them and in some smaller/more isolated colonies the sisters even come visit before the kids are properly “born” and just sit and tell them hello, it’s all in how you frame it.

There are usually a few older daughters who stay around where their Mother lives and become “midwives” (obviously it’s my translation of their word but it is analogous) and are stereotypically very present and very fussy, especially when the colony’s Mother is young. They are basically a necessity though, both because in the hibernation phase and the weeks leading up to it the Mother’s health is really vulnerable and it’s hard for her to muster the energy to take care of herself when her body’s forcing her to stay at a super-low baseline, and because 500 Babies Is A Lot Of Babies even if they’re still developing. Once they start to hatch more sisters will show up and help and begin divvying them up to adopt into the various individual households of the colony but also just kind of keep them corralled because they can toddle as soon as they hatch.

New Mothers aren’t generally born until their own Mother is older. As she ages her chemistry will change just slightly, making the subtle “genetic” adjustments needed to create a Mother more likely. Because of this it’s very rare for a new Mother to be born in her Mother’s first genvia, leading to the tradition of Mothers being raised by First Daughters.

A lot of astraeas have strong psychological drives to care for and protect Mothers at all stages of their lives--similar to the drive to nurture children, it’s tied up in the perpetuation of their species. The hierarchies of Basilean society, however, heavily exploit this reasonable tendency. In noble colonies, where the Mother is titled, the peasantry will still be made up of her biological daughters, who idealize her archetype and may feel strong loyalty to her even though she’s given them the short end of the stick. The powers that be of Basilean capitalism, meanwhile, dangle the opportunity to secure comfort for one’s colony’s Mother and future sisters and daughters in front of the lower classes to rope them into various forms of wage slavery.

ON THE OTHER HAND, Mothers who are...good mothers and really care about their daughters as people (rather than out of noblesse oblige or w/e) are a really powerful force for social change, because they tend to be highly influential within their colonies and more or less have the ear of a few thousand people by default, and can say to those people “let’s all act in our best interests together” and be listened to, at least to a certain degree.

#sweet chariot #astraea biology #semphorean concerns #uh #ask me to tag?#childbirth/#maybe???? but it's aliens

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abeanblogs · 5 years

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Bakugo = bug boy

Okay, I was prompted by @quirkify to do this so fuck it, it’s an excuse to talk about two of my favorite things: Bugs and Bakugo!

First, a bit of history on just HOW IN LOVE WITH BUGS I AM. I volunteer/work at a butterfly house in the summer. I have for 3 or 4 years! My parents always say I should be an entomologist. There aren’t any bugs that...*ahem*...bug me. I’ll pick up daddy long legs. I’ll pet bumble bees. I’ll watch beetles for hours. I’ll try and catch crickets. I’ll put a spider in a cup and take it outside if it’s in my house. I just....bugs.......

Anyway. So Bakugo. I imagine as a little kid, he would often go outside and hang out in his backyard to escape the stresses of his home life. There, he found himself fucking INFATUATED by the little harmless bugs he would find. Pill bugs? They have a little shell! They curl up when they’re scared! It’s like they have their own little quirk! And there’s big long ones! Millipedes, with a thousand teeny legs that ripple when they crawl! Bakugo would find them crawling on the cement and I imagine they caught his interest when they curled up because what the hell, how does something so small do anything cool?

One day when Bakugo gets mad and storms out of the house, he kicks over a little flower pot or watering can or pail that had been sitting in the dirt for a while, and he sees dozens of bugs scurry everywhere from under it. He’s immediately interested, because where are they running to? Are they scared of him? If the little rolly polly pill bugs have a defense mechanism, maybe these other bugs do too. He starts lifting up other flower pots and things that sit on the cement or dirt and he finds those pill bugs, but also crickets, and centipedes, and slugs, and worms. He watches where they go, and he follows them to the grass, where he finds other bugs, like flying bugs, moths and butterflies. And now NO PLACE is safe from this little boy searching everywhere for new bugs!

Once he’s old enough to actually explore places other than his own yard, he gets a bug net and some traps to go on hikes. He never keeps the bugs or kills them, he just observes them. Sometimes he’ll get bitten or stung by something he’s holding and that will set off his quirk by reflex, but he tries to never purposely kill a bug. They have so much against them in nature and so many people try to hurt them, he’s doing them a favor by letting them go back into the grass one last time.

Over time, he starts educating himself. He learns about all the different bugs he can find. When he starts infodumping and people complain about bugs they hate, he goes out of his way to find information and fun facts about that bug. He knows a lot about spiders and centipedes and bees and mosquitoes and all the bugs everyone HATES, just to prove that they aren’t as bad as they seem. Plus it’s a good way to impress people. He also educated himself on different bugs and their life cycles, and he wants to see it for himself. Butterflies or moths are a good place to start. He’d always seen them in different stages. Lots of caterpillars and butterflies, and even a few little jewels hanging from trees he found out were chrysalises. For monarch butterflies specifically, a female can lay up to 400 eggs. But only 1% of those might survive in the wild. Bakugo learned that by raising them, he drastically increases those stats to a 90-99% survival rate, and aren’t those some sweet statistics? So he starts raising them. He started small, with one or two caterpillars at a time, but over time it became almost a tradition to find caterpillars and raise them. He learned about different diseases that can kill them, different species and how they differ in raising techniques. Monarchs have a very ritualistic life cycle. The egg is laid. 3-7 days later, it hatches. They spend 2 weeks as a caterpillar, constantly eating and molting up to 5 times. Then they climb and make a silk button, then they hang in a J for about 24 hours. Then they make a chrysalis. They stay in their chrysalis for about 2 weeks, then they emerge. A day later, they can be released. Ritual, ritual, ritual. Bakugo loves knowing what to expect and when to expect it. For some other butterflies, like swallowtails, there’s no telling when they’ll come out of their chrysalis. It can be anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 years. Somehow, they can survive freezing temperatures. And god damn, are they elegant when they finally come out.

I imagine after Bakugo starts living in the dorms at UA, he keeps leftover chrysalises that overwinter and bug habitats in his room. He probably has an ant farm and a couple of displays of taxidermised bugs. He’ll still collect what caterpillars he can in the gardens and yard around the dorms and raise them. He tries to keep this interest to himself, because whenever he would get distracted by new bugs or would start infodumping to his “friends” when he was little, they would either get grossed out or be weirded out by him. His mom certainly didn’t like bugs in the house. So it kind of became his own private little thing.

His classmates had no idea about Bakugo’s interest in bugs until one day they found a spider in the dorm, a pretty good sized daddy long leg. One of the girls was going to kill it, but Bakugo stopped them by yelling at them to back the fuck up. Then he walked over, scooped up the spider in his bare hands, much to everyone’s horror, put it in a cup, and took it outside. He returned as if nothing had happened, because nothing did. He genuinely couldn’t understand the shocked looks on everyone’s faces.

The only people who dared to ask him about it were his close friends, Kaminari and Kirishima, when they were hanging out that night. He was pretty guarded about talking about why bugs were cool because his interest had been shunned by everyone before. At first he just kept it to, “Yeah, I just think they’re neat.” But they showed genuine interest and intrigue as to why these bugs were so neat, and why Bakugo, of all people, liked them. They were the first people to see his bug collection. They were the first people to actually LISTEN to his infodumping. They were the first people who didn’t shut him down for talking about this special interest. This really helped build his trust with them. Eventually, not only are Kaminari and Kirishima interested, but Sero hears about it, and Kyoka actually doesn’t mind either. And now they’re actually allowed to hang out in his room because they don’t mind the bugs, and Bakugo loves any chance he can get to explain them. Maybe one less person will hate them too.

That’s all I can think of to say about this right now, but yeah. Bakugo bug boy.

Thoughts?

#gem talks #quirkify #My Hero Academia #bakugo #bugs #bnha #infodump #i never write my own metas #but i got to project a little #like how i got into bug hunting #and how i started raising butterflies #its pretty similar to what i wrote here

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galvatronsthighs · 6 years

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Finally I complete the Unicronian trio in ‘my style’! Info under the cut!

Name: Scourge (Sweeps are designated by a number) Species: Unicronian

Facts/Notes about this Scourge and Sweeps (Both canon-info and headcanons ahoy):

Spent a week inside Unicron mutating into their current selves, upon which they hatched from fluid-filled chrysalises in their current state and left Unicrons body to enact his will.

He’s bio-organic and functions differently enough from regular Cybertronians to be at the very least considered a sub-species.

Was a part of the two-year long battle with/against/for Unicron.

Suffered torment from Unicron if he so much as wavered outside of Unicrons commands and desires.

When Unicron was defeated, he, like the other Unicronians became inert for a few months after having their ‘primary power source’ taken away.

Like his fellow Unicronians Scourge and his Sweeps have a “Garbage Gut”.

While Unicron was alive Scourge and the others had seemingly unlimited strength and power, now he’s ““dead”” their power is noticeably weaker but they are still forces to be reckoned with.

Like other Unicronians he can make his optics appear to be ‘aflame’, this is purely an aesthetic effect.

Their tails are not prehensile.

Only the Unicronians seem capable of telling the Sweeps apart instinctually. Scourge can do it perfectly, however, Cyclonus and Galvatron have made mistakes a few times.

The Sweeps are all utterly identical, however Scourge is distinguishable by his larger crest, extra tail fur and claw tips on his wings.

The Sweeps are divided up into numerous ‘packs’ each lead by their own ‘alpha’, however Scourge is still the boss of them all. Sometimes gets him jokingly referred to as the ‘alpha-alpha’.

Sweeps can be distracted with a laser pointer.

Scourge and the Sweeps have optics that are unnervingly ‘organic’ looking.

Said optics are also reflective.

When Scourge and the Sweeps argue amongst themselves it sounds like THIS. This has kept many a Decepticon up at night if they so happen to be too close to the argument. Thankfully they don’t make that noise when arguing with any Decepticon though on the rare time Scourge ‘argues back’ with either Galvatron or Cyclonus he will make that noise and get a equally horrible sounding growl/roar/noise in response until the matter is ‘settled’.

Sweeps like to cuddle together in a pile and sleep.

Rarely something called a “Sweepcub” can be found which is as the name implies a “baby” Sweep. No one is quite sure how or where they come from or are made, many Decepticons have made bets and theories on how they come to be, but are all too terrified of the possibilities to actually ask or really want to know, though it does ‘seem’ to explain why there’s a varying number of Sweeps around.

Scourge acts somewhat grumpy and sour but that seems to be his default disposition and isn’t actually being nasty as some might mistake it.

Scourge himself is a remarkably ‘simple’ mech, by which I mean, a full tank and shelter is enough to keep him happy and content.

Despite the concern and confusion about where they come from the attitude towards Sweepcubs is the same that a human might have towards kittens.

The Sweeps are more cowardly than Scourge, as if they’re aware they seem to fill out some kind of ‘disposable clone’ role in the galaxy. This has also occasionally lead to a Sweep being rebellious but it never lasts long nor usually go past the stage of them ‘talking back’.

Their toe beans are soft. Awfully so. Why does a semi-organic abomination get such soft peets? Curse you Universe!

Sweeps and Scourge can communicate certain things and certain signals to one another using their tails alone.

Their sense of smell and taste is better than their cohorts but is primarily used in tracking (or claiming they can sense others fear).

Scourge calls Galvatron and Cyclonus ‘filthy’ if they so much as smile at each other. It seems to be a in-joke among the trio.

Their claws are naturally that colour.

They purr and growl just like cats, can be found with a ‘blep’ like cats and can even have cases of ‘the zoomies’ too.

Scourge and the Sweeps display a pack mentality which is fine amongst themselves but when this mentality goes and includes other Decepticons (often if they are on a mission/working in a team with them or if a ‘con just happened to be nearby and get ‘swept up’ into their group) it tends to weird them out to be protected and guided by this weird pack of overgrown CyberCats.

They even groom in a similar manner.

Capable of bipedal and quadrupedal movement.

Seems somewhat ironic that their ‘robot mode’ and behaviour is the most animalistic of the trio yet their ‘alt mode’ is the most ‘vehiclular’ of them.

They have collections of animal pelts and bones form creatures they have hunted and killed. It is not uncommon to find one or two wearing such items.

Despite not needing to as it is primarily thanks to their anti-grav units and jets they like to ‘flap’ and ‘beat’ their wings in-flight.

Yes, fluffing up and flaring their wings is something they do as a ‘threat display’.

Scourge didn’t actively try to take control in “The burden hardest to bare”. The Matrix became energised after the unwanted attempt at using it and the energy it expelled (that came slightly delayed causing only Scourge to be affected) did not mesh well with his Unicronian energy at the time and caused a negative reaction, especially as he was unprepared, and turned Scourge ‘wild’.

#scourge #transformers #maccadam #Sweeps #attempting art #Extriverse #own style tfs

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eudaimonic-writes · 6 years

Text

Whisper Your Love - Chapter 2

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005500/chapters/32282919

Chapter 1

Masterpost

From the outside it just looks like an overlarge greenhouse but the Butterfly House is one of Derry's best kept hidden gems. Located right at the edge of town, the building is one of the first to have been built in Derry history, originally intended to be the home to a wealthy Lord who planned to live there with his wife and family. Disaster struck before his plans could come to fruition, however, as the wife unfortunately died before the house could be completed and, distraught, the Lord had finished the house, along with the addition of a beautiful butterfly garden in his wife's memory. He never officially moved into the completed house, but legend has it he visited the garden every day until his death many years later, leaving the property to be cared for by his only son.

Now, the Butterfly House is rarely visited outside of the summer months, when tourism is low and the weather is dull, but it is kept alive by the Derry fund, targeted towards keeping the history of Derry alive - even if nobody is there to witness it.

Richie can see why Eddie chose this place. Immediately upon stepping into the humid room, stripping his jacket, he is assaulted by the smell of freshly watered flowers and the sound of water falling in the distance. An emerald blue butterfly swoops overhead, and several brown one's he doesn't know the name of are feeding on the chopped apples on a wooden pedestal half-hidden by a crop of shrubbery. There are elegant, moss covered statues hidden amongst the tall plants, and the gravel crunches underfoot as Richie wanders further down the laid out path.

He can't see Eddie anywhere, but he doesn't dare call out the boy's name, too afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the place. Instead, Richie lets himself drift, listening to the low humming of the heating lamps and gentle pattering of the waterfall, becoming louder as he gets closer to the source. He rounds a bend, finger trailing idly over the words printed on a wooden information plaque, and then he spots him. Eddie is leaning over some shrubbery, placing a few pieces of chopped apple onto a stand like the one Richie had seen when he came in. A small white butterfly lands on his finger just as he's pulling away, and Eddie smiles softly as he raises it into the air, letting the insect flutter from his fingers and onto the pedestal.

It truly is another one of those time-altering moments, and Richie feels all of his senses dull once again as he watches from afar. There's a glass wall behind Eddie, the fading sunlight filtering through and casting a halo-effect around Eddie's hair, and Eddie's cheer uniform is discarded in preference for some light wash skinny blue jeans and a green apron over the pink sweater he had been wearing in the library.

He looks angelic.

Richie must make a noise then, because Eddie's head suddenly whips in his direction, his mouth falling into an 'o' of shock. Richie feels like he's intruding, which is ridiculous because Eddie asked him to come. But for one dreadful moment Richie honestly feels like Eddie might ask him what he's doing there, might ask him to leave, but then he just smiles and turns fully in Richie's direction, placing his hands in the pockets of his apron.

"Richie, you came." He says, the words almost songlike as they fall delicately off his tongue and into the air. The white butterfly takes off suddenly, delicate wings ever so graceful as it flutters over Eddie's head and disappears into the leaves.

"You know my name?" Richie grunts, voice coming out hoarser than he'd intended it to. He coughs, clearing his throat and attempts to hide behind his scrunched fist as Eddie chuckles.

"Of course I know your name, why wouldn't I?" Eddie chimes, slowly moving one foot in front of the other until they're in proper conversational distance of each other.

"Uh." Richie falters. "Because we've never spoken to each other before right now?"

He realises too late that the words come off a little bitter, and he regrets them a moment later when Eddie winces slightly, eyes wide and sad like Eddie wishes the words weren't true. The boy turns away slightly, reaching up one soft looking hand to rub bashfully at the back of his head, almost as soon as his hand touches his hair, Eddie pulls it away, grimacing and wiping it on his apron. "Apple juice." he murmurs, looking down at his apron instead of at Richie. "And, uh, you're right, but that's why I invited you here, I wanted to speak to you."

Richie nods, because he'd figured as much on the walk over there. Agonising over every possibility, until ultimately coming to the conclusion that Eddie probably only wants to thank him for saving his life - he's already resigned himself to the fact that this will be the only conversation the two will ever have and after this Eddie will go on with his perfect life and Richie will continue being the new kid until he graduates. "To thank me?" He asks, because saying the rest is just... desperate and weird. He scuffs the toe of his boot into the gravel absently, pursing his lips as the thought comes to mind. He's desperate, so desperate, for this to not be the only time they ever talk.

"Yes." Eddie agrees, finally looking up at him with an expression so earnest Richie almost has to look away with the intensity of it. "And-"

"And?" Richie repeats, startled. There's an 'and'?!

Eddie smiles. "Yes, and." he emphasises, raising his eyebrows playfully and reprimanding Richie for interrupting. "I was hoping maybe we could be friends... maybe..."

And, honestly? Richie just gapes, he gapes because Eddie - Eddie Kaspbrak, literal angel on earth, walking mother's wet dream, wants to be friends with him. Richie must've drowned in that quarry, probably hit his head on the rock on the way down and sunk because there's no way. Eddie has friends, Eddie has friends who are just like him, and he has a boyfriend who, admittedly, is a bit of an idiot, but a boyfriend nonetheless, who loves him. Why does he want to be friends with Richie? Unless... unless this is some sort of payment - like in the Titanic, except not because they end up together, and if Richie is Jack in that analogy then he dies in the end and he isn't about that life. So more like Clueless? Does Eddie plan to take Richie under his wing under some misguided sense of duty and attempt to straighten him out?! Richie's mind flashes back to the boy he sees Eddie hanging out with the most, the one with the harshly pressed collared shirts and - shudders - chinos. No. Richie can't do that.

But then, would Eddie do that? He doesn't seem like the type to enforce some sort of change on Richie. So maybe it's not like any movie, maybe it's just straight up honest to God gratitude - but that only hurts more. Richie doesn't want Eddie's friendship because he feels like he owes him, that's almost worse than not having Eddie's friendship at all. "You don't have to be friends with me just because I saved your life - I'm a good swimmer, and it's what anyone else would've done, you don't owe me for being a decent human being."

Eddie's eyes widen and his lips press together in a tight thin line, shaking his head all at once. "That's not what- look, I'm thankful but I know I don't owe you, I just, when you pulled me out of the water I felt like you were someone worth knowing, and I want to know you, I want to be your friend... i-if you want that too." It goes quiet for a moment, the only sound the running water up ahead and the steady hum of the overhead lamps. Their eyes don't leave each other's the whole time, Eddie's still impossibly wide and God knows what kind of expression Richie is wearing underneath his gaudy glasses. Then, Eddie shuffles, the sounds of his sneakers disturbing the gravel breaking the silence. "Would you?" he asks, almost a whisper. "Be my friend?"

Richie thinks it over for a moment, deciding that even if Eddie isn't being entirely honest, he has no reason to use Richie - no reason to stand there and beg a second time. So Richie smiles.

And Richie nods.

"This is my favourite place to read." Eddie is saying, one leg tucked up to his chest on the stone bench they're sharing, his other dangling to the side, skimming the gravel. His chin is resting on his knee, his apron discarded on the bench behind him. "When I'm not working - or busy - I'm usually here anyway, I like the quiet."

It had been a few hours, way past the closing time Richie had noticed on the board outside when he came in, but Eddie had assured him that they can stay as long as they like as long as Eddie locks up behind them. They'd migrated to the little tunnel below the synthetic waterfall quite some time ago, and hadn't stopped talking ever since.

With every little thing Richie learns about Eddie, he just finds himself more and more intrigued by the boy. He's obsessed with finding out all of the little details, all of the intricacies that make Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie, and he'd been delighted when Eddie had returned all of his strange and sometimes intrusive questions - throwing a few of his own in the mix. For the first time in a while, Richie feels like he's having a conversation with someone who genuinely cares about what he's saying - even when he goes on a twenty minute long tirade about the different uses of potatoes, or tells one of his dumb jokes he used to get told off for near constantly. Eddie even laughs.

It's refreshing.

"It's nice," Richie comments, leaning his head against the manufactured stone wall behind them. Opposite from them, built into the wall, is a glass case incubator filled with rows of chrysalises, all of them different shapes, sizes and colours. One of them, a small green one in the top right corner, is beginning to hatch, the little legs of the butterfly just beginning to poke out of a small tear at the bottom. "Calming." He continues, watching the butterfly's head poke out next.

Eddie follows his gaze, regarding the hatchling with a wistful look. "They don't all make it." He says after a short moment of companionable silence. Richie hums, frowning. "The hatchlings." Eddie explains. "Sometimes they get hurt coming out, their wings are broken or deformed, they get stuck and starve... or they just don't come out at all."

Richie looks away from the incubator, watching Eddie instead. "That's sad."

"That's life." Eddie says wryly, returning Richie's gaze.

Richie rolls his eyes, scoffing, "alright Mr. Pessimistic, life isn't all bad - just look at this place!" Richie gestures with his hands, throwing them wide and raising his eyebrows imploringly. Eddie shifts uncomfortably, pursing his lips as he tilts his head back and to the side, eyes lingering somewhere on the ceiling, then he sighs.

"What did you think when you moved here, Richie?" He asks, and his voice has a heaviness to it suddenly, a heaviness that Richie can't decipher.

"Are you kidding? This place is like some kind of fairy-tale village and nuclear town all rolled into some giant ball of pleasantness."

Eddie scoffs, looking uncomfortable. "Derry isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know? You just haven't been here long enough to know that yet."

For the first time, Richie see's Eddie, not as some otherworldly being, but as a boy. A boy who is looking at him like he wants Richie to understand something, something Richie just can't see. It's true, Richie hasn't been here that long, but from what he's seen, Derry is an enigma. There's a sense of community here that is unrivalled, and Richie likes that. "What do you mean?" He asks.

Eddie sighs again, this time a little agitatedly. "Derry wasn't always like this... a few years back, a boy a few years older than us came out - it was a big thing, you know? Nobody had ever really been gay in Derry before, at least not openly. It had the town up in arms, half of the town wanted to ignore it was even a thing, and the other half wanted to rejoice, and a few people... a few people didn't like it at all. Adrian, that was his name, he found a boyfriend, Don, and then it became a real problem - Don was the preacher's son. Well, those people that didn't like it before, really didn't like it now... they attacked them." Richie feels his breath freeze in his lungs, watching the emotions flit across Eddie's face. "Adrian was killed, Don badly injured." He sniffs a little, and finally looks at Richie. "What you see in Derry, it isn't acceptance, it's ignorance. You think the whole town is fine with Chris and I's relationship? They aren't, they just ignore it, because nobody wants another case like Adrian Mellon. It's the shame of Derry history, the guys who did it got put in Juniper Hill - that's a mental asylum up North - and now nobody ever talks about it anymore."

Richie is silent, can't find the words to say to that. He'd heard of 'an incident' from Bev, but she hadn't gone into any detail and Richie, uncaring, hadn't asked. He realises his mistake now, watching Eddie watching him - distressed. "I had no idea..." Richie whispers, shaking his head, "it's awful."

"It's Derry." Eddie says. "The people here hide their faults under a layer of dust, they ignore anything they don't like because it's easier than admitting that we're just as fucked as the rest of the world."

It's the first time Richie hears Eddie swear.

Riche thinks, later, that Eddie might have been trying to tell him something else when he talked about Adrian Mellon.

But as Richie is wont to do, he doesn't ask.

Because, as loathe as he is to admit it, Richie is a little afraid to shatter any other images he has of Derry. He's already beginning to see the little cracks in the town's exterior, and he fears the day he'll begin to see those cracks in the people too. See the cracks in Eddie.

Eddie is an entirely different person outside of school, hidden away in his little garden, where Richie finds himself most days when 16:00 rolls around, watching Eddie look after the plants and the butterflies, talking about anything and everything that comes to their minds. Eddie seems particularly interested in Richie's life before Derry, so Richie tells him about all of the crazy things he and his group of friends got up to, all of the beach parties and ragers and that time Richie passed out because he wore his leather jacket in 80F weather, and in return Richie learns that Eddie's dad died when he was five, and he's planning on going to Harvard next fall, and he has a 4.0 GPA. Eddie's friends are Stan, Ben and sometimes Mike - though Mike is more Chris' friend because they're on the football team together.

They don't talk much inside of school, and Richie doesn't ask why because he kind of gets it - Eddie is always with Chris, and Richie doesn't want to be around Chris anyway. It doesn't really bother Richie that their friendship seems to be some sort of secret, because even though he barely gets to see Eddie at school, Richie gets to bask in the boy's laughter outside, any time he wants. They go to the butterfly garden, and hang out by the waterfall, or they go to Richie's house and eat his mom's spaghetti - Richie's gives Eddie the nickname 'Eddie Spaghetti' when Richie manages to make him laugh so hard that spaghetti sauce comes out of his nose, which Eddie rolls his eyes at and continuously tells him not to call him that.

Richie knows he likes it though, he can tell by the way Eddie hides a smile behind his sweater paws. Maggie takes an instant liking to Eddie, offering to make him whatever he wants every time he comes over and always smiling at Richie in a way that’s all too knowing.

They're sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, Richie munching on a bowl of lucky charms and his mother meticulously peeling the filament off a tangerine, when she suddenly stops just to stare at him. Richie's movements halt, his spoon halfway to his open mouth, and their eyes meet. Blue on blue. He knows that whatever comes next can't be good, and he's right.

"Richard, I've been thinking." she says, her voice stern. Richie drops his spoon back into his bowl, eyeing her warily.

"Yes, mom?"

"I want you and Eddie to leave the door open when you're studying from now on." Maggie smirks, putting emphasis on the word 'studying'. Richie winces and groans.

"Mom, it's not like that!" He pleads. "Eddie and I are just friends."

Maggie scoffs, beginning to pick apart the individual pieces of her tangerine. Richie's senses get overwhelmed with the scent of citrus. "Please, Richie, I see the way you look at that boy - and I only want you to be sensible!"

Richie groans again, placing his hands flat on the table and bringing his forehead down onto them - hard, twice. "Mom, please, it's too early for the talk. I'm eighteen, shouldn't you have said this a few years ago?!"

Maggie clears her throat. "Yes, well, I was a little bit preoccupied a few years ago." Richie feels guilty all of a sudden, remembering his mother's struggles with alcoholism due, in part, to his shitty dad. He hadn't wanted her to get help, afraid that it would shame their family. The best day of Richie's life was the day his mother told Wentworth Tozier to go fuck himself and threw her wedding ring in his face. She'd been going to AA ever since, and shortly thereafter they'd moved to Derry to start fresh.

Richie smiles at her reassuringly, reaching over to wrap his hand around the one she wasn't using to place a piece of tangerine between her lips. Richie recognises the Tozier trick of deflection for what it is. "I'm proud of you mom." He says, meaning every word.

Maggie smiles softly at him, and then pulls her hand away. "Really, though, when are you going to ask Eddie out? I'd love to have him as a son in law, he's such a sweet boy!"

Richie fake screams, "mom!" as Maggie chuckles, popping another tangerine segment in her mouth, a twinkle in her blue eyes. Richie picks up his nearly empty cereal bowl, dumping what’s left before leaving the dish in the sink for his mom to clean - as punishment. "I'm going now!"

"Ask him out!" She yells after him.

"You should ask him out." Bev says at lunch, slamming her bottle of water down on the table to grab Richie's attention, which, for the sixth time that lunch period and six millionth time that month, had strayed over to Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie splutters, "Bev!" he yelps, "Jesus, are you and my mother in cahoots or something?"

"Y-your mother knows E-Eddie?" Bill asks, breaking the non-verbal vow of silence Richie is sure the boy probably made at some point. He honestly doesn't know how Bill and Bev got on before he came along to tamper all of Bev's energy. Richie stops a moment to take in Bill's words, and then realises his mistake.

"Uh." Bev's eyes are glinting accusingly, her painted finger pointed straight at him like a bright red and slightly chipped dagger. Spill it says. And with a sigh, Richie does. "Yeah, I guess we're kind of friends..?"

Bev gawks, and Richie thinks Bill's eyebrow might twitch a little, but then he just goes back to sipping at his water bottle casually, the only thing betraying his interest are his eyes, trained on Richie, like a hawk. "You what?!" Bev shrieks, Richie hushes her, glancing around to make sure nobody is staring. "Since when?"

"Since I saved his life at the quarry... we've been talking."

"At y-your house." Bill clarifies. Richie nods. The two redheads stare at him for a moment, and Richie feels a little awkward under their scrutiny, then, "y-you should ask him out."

Bev lets out a little "hah!" at that, and Richie groans. "Not you too, Big Bill! We're just friends - and, besides, Eddie has a boyfriend!"

"So?" Bev scoffs, rolling her eyes. Richie scowls at her, and then at Bill who shrugs noncommittally.

"So," he emphasises, "I can't just ask him out if he's already taken!"

Bev rolls her eyes again, like he's stupid - which, uh? Rude. - and then leans forward. "Sure you can, take a little initiative! Woo the guy! Pull an Avril Lavigne on him and push Chris into a portapotty and declare yourself Eddie's new boyfriend." Richie snorts, as Bev begins humming the tune to Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, he shoves her shoulder playfully, pursing his lips to try and stave off an amused smile.

"Ha Ha, Beverly, you're hilarious! Now can I go back to pining in silence?" Bev snorts, waving her hand as if to say "go ahead", and Bill is already once again not giving a single shit. Richie turns to continue his longing stare-athon in Eddie's direction, and freezes when he sees Eddie looking back at him. For a moment, he wonders if Eddie could hear their conversation before dismissing the thought entirely because, if he can't hear Eddie's then Eddie certainly can't hear theirs. Then he wonders at how long Eddie could've been looking at him without him noticing, and his heart stutters in his chest, his breaths slowing as a warm feeling fills his tummy.

He hears Beverly whistle lowly across the table, but pays no mind as Eddie smiles shyly at him, before turning away to re-join whatever conversation he was having with Stan. Stan's gaze lingers for a moment on Richie, quizzical, before he too looks away. Richie turns back to Bev, a huge wide-eyed grin plastered all over her smug face. Even Bill looks a little impressed. "You weren't lying." She stage whispers, and Richie feels a little offended.

"Why would I even lie about that?" He asks, indignantly.

Bev shrugs. "I don't know, to seem cool?"

"Nobody even knows we talk except you guys and my mom."

Bev shrugs again, and they fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the occasional crunching of Bill biting into his apple that he'd pulled from seemingly nowhere. Richie thinks he's gotten away scot free, but then Beverly has to open her big mouth again, "I still think you should ask him out." Richie glares at her, and then throws his scrunched up napkin at Bill when the stoic boy agrees with a silent nod.

Richie is walking home when he hears the sound of a pair of feet rushing up the pavement behind him, he turns just in time to see Eddie come to a halt beside him, and grins when Eddie slips his small hand around Richie's wrist, keeping him in place. "Hey." He breathes, breathless from his run.

"Hi." Richie greets, pulling the buds of his headphones out of his ears and pausing his music. "I was just on my way home, you wanna join? Maggie's been asking after you."

Eddie smiles happily. "Tell Maggie I said Hi? But, uh, no, I was wondering actually if you wanted to come to mine for once? My mom's not home 'til late tonight so I thought we could hang out there for a change."

Richie agrees immediately, because he's not too shy to admit he'd been curious to know what Eddie's room looks like. If it'll be as soft and cute as Eddie, or plain, or messy. He can't imagine it'll be messy, nothing about Eddie screams messy, but you never know.

There's something intimate about being invited into someone's bedroom for the first time - even in the most non-sexual setting, where it's just two friends hanging out, one of them with a long-term boyfriend, bordering on childhood sweetheart, and the other with the most hopeless of crushes. It's like being invited to a front row seat to someone's soul; you get to see the essence of them, their most private place. Where they sleep at night and wake up in the mornings, where they dress, where they do their homework and where they cry.

Richie understands this intrinsically when he steps into Eddie's room, he feels like Neil Armstrong taking his first steps on the moon as his eyes take it all in. Ultimately, it's just a room - obviously belonging to a teenaged boy - but also obviously belonging to Eddie. Eddie's house had once been a bungalow, it seems, and Eddie explains that his room was renovated from the attic when he was born. The floor is wooden, sandy in colour, and is goes nicely with the white painted walls. His bedsheets are a pristine white that must be a nightmare to clean, and perfectly made, one fluffy looking pale purple pillow right in the centre. Opposite the bed, is a railing with several coats and jackets hung up in order from heaviest to lightest, and next to that is a door, presumably leading to an ensuite, a small table with a record player perched on it on the other side, a cork board with a calendar and a few pictures above that. Next to the bed, by the bannister, is a wardrobe, the matching dresser at the foot of the bed. On the other side of the room, right as you make it to the top of the stairs, are two large windows, a floor length mirror, and a clean looking desk with drawers.

Eddie sits delicately on the made bed as Richie stands in the centre of the room, taking it all in; from the daisy lights wrapped around the metal bedframe to the scented candles on top of the dresser. The room is clean, ordered, and Richie can see Eddie in it - reading a book in bed or writing at his desk.

"It's very you." He comments, moving closer to the corkboard so he can look at the pictures. There's one of Eddie and Stan, adorably young, and a newer one including Ben. There's a picture of Eddie and Chris, and next to it a picture of all four of them with Mike Hanlon, Eddie in his cheer uniform and lying across their arms, grinning.

"I hope that's a good thing?" Eddie says, and when Richie glances at him, he's biting his lip shyly.

Richie smiles softly, unthinkingly taking the two steps it takes to reach him and pulling his lip out from between his teeth with his thumb. "Always." he murmurs. Eddie doesn't move until Richie moves his thumb away, looking down and trying not to feel guilty. Boyfriend! Childhood sweethearts! Chris! Richie turns away, because he can't take the way Eddie is looking at him - he doesn't know what it means but it feels like something and Richie can't take it if it turns out to be nothing.

"Rich." Eddie whispers, reaching his hand out to hold gently onto Richie's. "Richie, I have a boyfriend."

Richie nods, "I know, I, uh, I should go."

"You don't have to." Eddie says, pleads, and Richie gives in, turning back and sinking down onto the bed when Eddie tugs at his fingers. They're still holding hands, sitting side by side, wrinkling Eddie's pristine sheets. "I... I feel it too, you know?"

"You do?" He asks, hopeful.

Eddie nods, his eyes drooping to stare at Richie's lips. "There's something about you... about this... that I, I just, I can't re-" He cuts himself off, pressing his lips to Richie's with a sigh. Richie gasps, hands coming up to cup Eddie's face as the smaller boy presses into him, leaning into Richie's body. He feels Eddie's hands on his neck, his thumbs rubbing circles into the skin behind his ears and Richie opens his mouth, taking charge of the kiss and pressing his tongue between Eddie's lightly parted lips, pushing them further apart and devouring Eddie's mouth with his own.

His mind is racing, as Eddie climbs over him, knees on either side of Richie's hips as they fall further backwards onto the bed and fall further into their kiss. He feels dizzy, and Eddie must feel it too as he pulls back slightly, breath panting over Richie's face. Richie's opens his eyes, and see's Eddie looking right back at him. Their eyes meet, and then they're kissing again, breathless, reeling.

When Richie wakes up the next morning, he's lying fully clothed on top of Eddie's covers, facing out into the room. He can feel Eddie's weight behind him, dipping the bed slightly, but their only point of contact is the singular finger Eddie is using to draw shapes and patterns between Richie's shoulder blades. Richie sighs contently, shifting further into Eddie's touch. He hears Eddie chuckle breathily, and then a light kiss is pressed to his clothed back. "You should go..." Eddie whispers, "Before my mom comes up here and starts yelling at me to get ready."

Richie laughs out a groan. "You and your crazy mom." They'd talked for a while last night, once they'd finally pulled away from each other. After a minor freak out - Richie's, not Eddie's - and some discussion, they'd agreed to roll with whatever comes, and Richie had spent the night, innocently, after falling asleep to the sound of Eddie telling him a story about his mom from his childhood. Richie rolls over, wrapping Eddie up in his arms and kissing all over his face, Eddie chuckles, weakly attempting to push Richie away. "M'sorry for falling asleep." Richie says, stroking a hand through Eddie's slightly greasy curls.

Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "S'fine, you looked peaceful."

"Your bed is very comfy." Richie agrees. Eddie snorts.

"Yeah, just don't go telling people that." The smaller boy sits up, and Richie notices he must have changed, sometime while he was sleeping, into a pair of red short shorts and a large soft cotton t-shirt with a hole in the collar. There's a faded logo on the front of the shirt, but Richie doesn't have his glasses on so he can't make it out.

"What?" Richie teases, sitting up too and reaching for the glasses folded neatly on the dresser. "Your boyfriend doesn't think so?" There's a pause, where Richie expects Eddie to laugh or hit him lightly for being crude, but Eddie just freezes in the process of pulling out a clean uniform from his wardrobe, his back to Richie. Richie frowns. "Eds?"

Eddie mumbles something, and then goes back to rummaging through his closet. "What? I don't speak mumble-ese." Richie jokes.

Eddie turns to him then, his cheeks flushed, "I said he wouldn't know." He repeats, voice unsteady.

Richie's brain short circuits, "are you saying you're-"

"A virgin, yes." Eddie says, holding his uniform to his chest like a shield. He bites his lip. Richie stands up from the bed, placing his hands around Eddie's hips and sighing.

"I'm sorry, Eds. I just assumed - you've been with him for so long..." He apologises. "It's okay to be a virgin, you know?"

"I know that!" Eddie snaps, eyes flashing, then he deflates, leaning his head on Richie's shoulder in defeat. "I just - everyone always assumes, and Chris... well let's just say that it's not exactly his fault we haven’t, uh, done it."

Richie doesn't quite know what to say in this situation, he'd assumed so much about Eddie and now? Now he's seeing a whole new side - and that's not to say this changes his opinion of Eddie in any way, just maybe he's realising that if this assumption is wrong, what other assumptions could he be wrong about? "Does he pressure you?" Richie asks, a protective lilt to his voice.

Eddie shakes his head, still buried in the material of Richie's shirt. "Not in a bad way... he asks a lot, but he drops it if I tell him to."

Richie nods. Point to Chris then. "Good."

"I guess..." Then Eddie trails off. Richie pulls away, so he can look Eddie in the eye.

"What?"

"I mean... I guess you're... not?" Eddie asks, unsure. "A virgin, that is. You're not one?"

Richie shakes his head, "I'm not, no."

"Oh."

"Is that bad?"

Eddie's eyes go wide, his head shakes. "No! Of course it's not bad, just, it's nice to know."

Richie grins, and nods his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips - hard, but chaste. "It means nothing." He assures, pressing another long kiss to Eddie's lips when he tilts his head to ask for one. "I promise."

"Mmm, sure, just keep kissing me."

Richie chuckles. "As you wish."

Chapter 3

Masterpost

#wyl #whisper your love #reddie #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier

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entomologistologist · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @arbitrarystrawberry! Thank you! <3

Nickname: Haven't really got one. I have one internet friend who calls me Bean. I almost acquired the nickname Zap, but it didn't work out.

Sign: Political signs with candidates' names on them, mostly.

Favourite music artist: idk man I don't really listen to music by artist. Can I say Amy Grant?

Last tv show watched: uhhhh I keep meaning to watch some King of the Hill but I haven't been doing it. To be honest, I don't remember the last show I watched.

Last movie you watched in theatre: Rouge One. Didn't care for it.

What are you wearing right now: Pajamas.

What do you post: lol who knows. Political stuff (pro-life or anti-SJW mostly). Archie comic scans. Superman and Batman stuff. Spider-Man stuff. The occasional Warrior Cats fanart. Some Christian stuff. Random memes that strike my fancy.

Do you have any other blogs: Nope.

Why did you choose your URL: welllllll gather round, children. I've decided to tell the needlessly long version of this story. I'm warning you, this is way too detailed. PLEASE JUST SKIP TO THE NEXT QUESTION; THIS IS LONG AND BORING.

Okay, so one day a few years ago (it was the year I was taking chemistry, so probably like three years back?), my older sisters stumbled upon a long-cancelled children's cartoon on the TV set called Archie's Weird Mysteries. My sister Talia decided to become an Archie fan, so we all started watching this show ever night at 10pm, when it came on (we don't have no Netflix, no Hulu, no illegal online streaming! we watch things WHEN THEY COME ON).

Meanwhile, my sister Mariah had a story idea that she called her Adventure Psychologist story (at first I wanted to be mean and also include all the backstory of how she came up with her Adventure Psychologist story, since I'm going overboard with the explanations anyhow, but I won't). It was about a psychologist from outer space who did magic psychology on aliens and people. She was obsessed with this story idea. She would never shut up about it. This is important background information.

Now we'll get to the relevant part: The TV station that played Archie's Weird Mysteries had only a couple of actual commercials at a time. The rest of the commercial breaks were filled with promos. One of the shows they advertised was called Dex Hamilton Alien Entomologist. The promo itself was pretty bad (it did not convey any information about the show that is not communicated in the title, although I suppose it did at least define an entomologist as someone who studies bugs), but Mariah saw it and went, "Oh my gosh! An alien entomologist! That is basically the exact same thing as an alien psychologist! I have to watch this show," to which I replied, "wow, Mariah, that's dumb; we watch enough children's cartoons already."

But Mariah wanted to watch it anyway. The first time she tried, she failed because she did not understand time zones. I thought it would be dumb for us to start watching the show, but by the second time she tried to watch it (they only played one thirty-minute episode a week), I had warmed up to it slightly. So the big day when Mariah would watch this show finally rolled around. Talia was going to watch with her, too. I was waaaaay to mature to watch another kid’s show, so I opted to spend the time they were watching TV to go rake the lawn, so I’d be done raking and could afford to spend the rest of Saturday watching Monk reruns (ion television played Monk on Saturdays back then, and as mentioned, we watch TV shows when the TV station people tell us to watch TV shows). So I raked the leaves while they watched their show. Then I came in and asked how they liked it (since I had warmed up to the idea, I had decided that if they liked it, I would try it next week now that the waters had been tested and everything). They liked it. So the next week, I watched whatever episode the TV gods deigned to air that day.

And from that point on until today and probably tomorrow and the day after that, I was/am/will be utterly consumed by that TV show.

One of the main characters from the show is called Zap Monogan. He was created with human and insect DNA mixed together, and in one episode they referenced him making cocoons or chrysalises in his sleep or something. I was thinking about that and got really confused because I realized that I really knew jack squat about chrysalises. I knew cocoons were silk, but I realized I had absolutely positively no idea what they were made of. So I asked Talia and she didn’t know either.

So I went to Wikipedia to research chrysalises. I found out that chrysalises are made out of the outer skin of the creature inside. This confused me as to how Zap could possibly use a chrysalis, since he’s basically a human with mammal skin and stuff. Then eventually I found out that Zap makes cocoons, not chrysalises. So I researched cocoons and I found out that the chemical that silkworms melt the silk with when they escape from a cocoon is called cocoonase. Obviously, the next question was to find out as much about cocoonase and the glands that produce silk as possible. So I madly searched on Wikipedia, but it turns out that most people don’t care about conoonase or really entomology in general, so there isn’t exactly as much information on cocoon formation as there is about, say, human physiology. Priorities.

I never actually found that much information about cocoons (I sort of gave up. Sorry.) but I eventually found out about a guy named Pierre André Latreille. This dude was a famous French entomologist during the 18th and 19th century, in fact, he was nicknamed The Prince of Entomologists, so it’s no surprise I eventually stumbled upon him.

He was born in France in 1762, and not into the best family situation. There are no surviving records of his mother’s identity, and his father wanted nothing to do with him, although he did send his kid money. As a young man, Latreille became a priest. Latreille never actually carried out any of his priestly duties. He was too busy chasing bugs.

In 1790, the revolutionaries had decided that all priests were required to take an oath promising to adhere to the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. Latreille ended up missing the deadline to accept the oath and was thrown in prison.

Then one day, the prison physician found Latreille literally crawling around on the prison floor chasing a beetle like an insane person. Latreille eagerly told the doctor what he was so excited about. The doctor, to his credit, actually was impressed. You see, we aren’t talking about some run of the mill Coccinella septempunctata here. This was a Necrobia ruficollis—a very rare beetle. Once Latreille explained this, the doctor took the specimen and brought it to a local naturalist, Bory de Saint Vincent, who was a fan of Latreille’s and managed to pull a few strings and get Latreille released from prison. This is especially bizarre when we note that Saint Vincent was only fifteen when all this was happening, and yet somehow a fifteen-year-old could decide who lived and who died. Apparently, the Get Out of Jail Free card came with a plus one, because Damkaer reveals that one of Latreille’s cellmates was freed as well. All the others were killed.

Wow, I thought. That’s ridiculously cool! So I started researching entomologists a lot. I made a weird color-coded chart detailing which French entomologists of the 1800s were friends with each other. It was dorky. Very, very dorky.

Then I started a tumblr, and I was like, and entomologist is a person who studies insects, and I’m a person who studies people who study insects, so I’m an entomologistologist.

See, I warned you that would be long.

Do you get asks regularly: I have never in my entire life gotten an ask. SOMEONE ASK ME SOMETHING PLS. I've been tagged in posts before, though.

Hogwarts house: what I AM is probably Ravenclaw. What I'd WANT to be is Gryffindor.

Patronus: ummm a moth maybe. I haven't really thought about it.

Pokemon team: I only play on Pokemonshowdown.com using gen1 random battles, so I'll take this as a chance to list six random Pokemon that I like: Umbreon, Raichu, Nidorino (male), Mew, Ninetales, and Arcanine.

Favourite colour: Pinkish lavender.

Favourite characters: Zap Monogan from the show Dex Hamilton Alien Entomologist. Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap Zap I love you, Zap. Other favorite characters include Dex himself, Jenny 10 and Tung from the same show, Jughead from Archie comics, Peter Parker, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Twilight Sparkle and Spike from MLP, Adrian Monk from Monk, and Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye.

Hobbies/crafts: Writing, listening to the radio, and speech and debate.

Collect anything? Pennies. I sorted them by decade but then I jumped and jostled the room enough that they all fell over. But the point of collecting them is to sort them by year, so I should get around to reorganizing them, soon.

Current challenges you face: I need to pray more. So much more. And I need to learn that my friends don't secretly hate me.

Things you’re looking forward to? My next speech and debate tournaments, buying my sister Mariah birthday presents, buying the hardcover of The Lost Girl of Astor Street by Stephanie Morrill, and going to sleep for a nice long time.

Anything you want to promote? Seek God.

I’m tagging @storymaker-the-christian-echidna and @nightcrawler-fan.

#you thought yours was long strawberry #I can't believe I spent over 1100 words describing choosing my url #I'm so sorry #if anyone at all actually read that--even just one person--I'd be shocked

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