#htryds microshot

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds microshot: Stay Warm

February X783

 Jellal knocked on Mystogan with a single knuckle, his hands otherwise full. “Myst? You in there?” He was fairly confident that his twin was actually in his dorm, for once, if only on account of Magnolia being under a thick layer of snow. Still, it was impossible to tell with Mystogan; he might rather be in the cold than borderline stuck in the dormitory with more people than normal. Or he could be with the dragonlings at their place—which would be on account of being successfully forced to stay due to inclement weather.

“Come in.”

Fortunately, Jellal’s initial guess was correct. He managed to get the door open before toeing it closed. “I got you some hot chocolate. It’s from Jet—he got stir-crazy and made enough for the whole building,” he announced as a way of greeting. Jellal set the mentioned cup on Mystogan’s table, still yet to actually see where the other teen was.

“Tell him I said thanks.”

He still didn’t see him, but this time, Jellal could ascertain that his voice was coming from the bathroom. Except the bathroom wasn’t closed. Curious, Jellal moved closer, just to see…

“Is that Shadow?”

Mystogan looked up from his position kneeling on the floor, the black cat in question squirming lightly in his grip. “Yeah.”

Jellal wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, so he settled on being bemused. “Inside?” he asked, even though it was obvious that Mystogan’s outdoor adopted stray was very much inside. It was against the building’s policy to have pets, and Jellal was certain Mystogan knew this, but here he was, clearly trying to teach his cat how to use a litter box.

Mystogan frowned slightly, nearly pouting. “It’s cold outside.”

Oh. Yeah. That was a really good point. While he knew that the cat was used to being outdoors, Magnolia was experiencing an unnaturally intense cold snap. And Shadow was just a short-haired cat. “How’s the potty-training going, then?” he asked, accepting the situation for what it was.

His twin shrugged. “I think he knows, but we’ll see.” As if on cue, the cat trotted away from the litterbox, stopping only to briefly rub his cheek against Jellal’s leg. “He’s having too much fun exploring, still.”

Jellal chuckled at the thought of the cat claiming Mystogan’s space as his own so quickly. The cat emphasized this point by jumping onto the bed, kneading the covers with his paws after only three steps. He could hear the cat purring from even a few feet away. “Well, I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Suppose so,” Mystogan snorted. “Anyway, you said something about hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, it’s over here.”

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds microshot: A Few Times Acno Was Called A Dad

X780

The first time it happened, Acnologia wrote it off as an accident. Because it was, and he wouldn’t want to unnecessarily embarrass anyone over it when it didn’t matter. People made slips of the tongue all of the time. Especially when they were half-asleep and barely aware of what they were saying.

It was just surprising. That was all. Even more surprising was that the drowsy slip-up came from Levy.

The small girl’s presence in the library was not strange. If anything, it was stranger when she wasn’t there. When Acnologia spent any amount of time in the basement library, seeing if the guild had gathered anything worthwhile—he had a decent collection from the centuries, yes, but it wasn’t as if he had ever bothered to show his face long enough in public to truly browse for anything—it was common that Levy would set her stack of books near him, intent on being nearby. 

It didn’t bother him, because unlike the majority of the guild, she knew how to be quiet. And polite. Besides, the kids had taken a liking to her, so he had grown used to her presence in a variety of other places as well. The girl even came to the cabin sometimes. The kids trusted her with their secrets, and honestly, he believed that they made the right choice. 

In turn, Levy’s interest in him evolved from excitedly giving him tours of the library to taking interest in his research—and his knowledge. Acnologia had no intention of dragging a thirteen-year-old into his ongoing research on the origins of dragon supremacy magic, or his new project that involved compiling any information on etherious he could find, but Levy wasn’t the worst deskside companion for his more benign research. She knew how to sit still. (Unlike the rest of his kids.)

Her fascination in learning from him was also baffling. Sometimes heartwarming, but mostly baffling. With Levy sniffing out Gajeel’s and Natsu’s ancient origins with minimal clues, she now knew just how old he was too. She skipped over any implications his history should have given and landed on wanting to know the most obscure things. And languages. Definitely languages. 

Just now, when he was transcribing some of his Mildian notes and cross-referencing them to the modern guidebook, she had wanted to stick close, watching him translate and asking the occasional question as she did so.

The questions slowed as the night progressed, however, and soon Acnologia realized that she was asleep, cheek smeared onto her journal. Checking the time, he discovered that it was deep into the night, at hours that no human kid should be awake for. She knew better than to follow his example; Levy was well aware of his draconic sleep schedule. 

He would have let her sleep, were it not for the terrible position her neck was in. 

Acnologia gently shook her by the shoulder. “Levy.”

He would ensure she got in a bed, one way or another. She would probably prefer if it was her own bed, but he would set her up in the med bay if necessary. It would be more comfortable than slumped over a table.

“...five mor’ minu’s Dad…”

Acnologia stilled. 

Did she just…?

No, she wasn’t responsive, he decided. 

He scooped her up carefully, although in the past few years, he had more than plenty of practice. Upstairs, it was. 

With any luck, she wouldn’t remember her words in the morning. Levy was easily embarrassed, after all. 

—o0o—

“Try closing your eyes and picturing it in your head,” Acnologia suggested, recalling some of his own early transformations, back before he had conscious control over which form he took. 

Natsu was better with feeling than technicality anyways—he just needed the familiarity with the feeling first. Maybe focusing on self image and instinct would help him get there. Otherwise, Natsu would keep staring at his hands and only managing partial ones, spreading only by accident. 

“How do I know if it’s the whole thing?” he asked. 

Acnologia was pretty sure he had seen Natsu’s full etherious form before, that first time he had tried it and had been completely swallowed by the magic swell. However, Natsu needed his own perception of it in order for him to get comfortable with more than claws and wings. Besides, there was nothing to say that it wouldn’t change appearance based on Natsu’s current disposition. 

He shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Let’s just see how it goes.”

Free of any specific expectation, Natsu relaxed. “Okay!”

It took a couple of tries to move his magic across the entirety of his body, but not long. Natsu was quick at picking up magic once he grasped the first part. 

Natsu touched his horns gingerly, before turning to him with a grin. “Dad, I did it!”

Acnologia blinked, Natsu’s words ringing belatedly in his head. 

“Aw man, did I miss something else?” Natsu continued, mistaking Acnologia’s apparently visible panic for something wrong with his magic. He twisted around, stretching his wings out as he checked his back. “I’m missing a tail, aren’t I?”

Natsu was acting any differently, so Acnologia made the decision to absolutely not address the slip-up. He learned magic from Igneel, so it was only natural. (Oh stars, could Igneel hear that from within the soul technique? He sincerely hoped he didn’t. That dragon didn’t need any more reasons to kill him.)

“Demons don’t have tails,” Acnologia reminded him, shaking himself out of his stupor. (He wasn’t trying to replace any of their parents. He wasn’t. It was fine.)

“You did great.”

“Hey Acno, am I supposed to have only four toes?”

He absolutely did not sigh in relief at the use of his name. 

“Your fifth is technically the one on your heel.”

The fourteen-year-old looked briefly horrified. Acnologia laughed, the rest of his own tension fading. Yes, everything was normal. 

—o0o—

“Need help?”

Sting glared at him, a sight that was largely made amusing by the nine-year-old’s precarious position half-standing on the counter. 

“No.”

Acnologia knew better than to damage the kid’s fragile ego (too much) so he stood to the side and watched as the pipsqueak struggled to reach the bowls. 

By some miracle, he finally grabbed one and scrambled down without dropping it. “See Dad, I told you I could—”

Sting stopped himself abruptly. Acnologia tried very hard not to show that he heard it, lest he freak out Sting more. 

Not addressing it was probably the best call. Sting clearly didn’t mean it anyway. 

Awkwardly, Acnologia simply grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and set it on the counter. “Still would have been faster,” he said, circling back carefully to the real topic. 

Sting huffed, his tension fading. “Only if you were already in the room.”

He would let him have this. Sting would get taller soon enough anyway. 

“Fair enough.”

—o0o—

“Hey um, Acnologia? Got a minute?”

He stiffened at the unfamiliar voice, though after a moment, he placed it as Macao, that purple fire mage. Acnologia studied the man briefly, not placing any immediately noticeable reason for him to walk into the med bay. Unless, of course, to speak with him. 

“Yes?” he answered, hoping it was a reasonable medical request. 

“One dad to another, how can you tell the difference between a distressed baby cry and a bratty cry?”

Oh dear Polaris he was not prepared for that question in the slightest. 

He remembered that Macao and Enno had recently had a child—and that Enno recently left the guild altogether. (How much the two were related, Acnologia did not know.) It made some degree of sense that Macao might ask a doctor for advice, but why would he phrase it like…?

Oh hell no. 

“You realize I’ve never raised an infant…right? Or toddlers.” Acnologia responded awkwardly. He had come to Fairy Tail with three of the kids already, so he didn’t fault anyone for not knowing that his experience didn’t go far beyond what was witnessed. It was just a simple misunderstanding.

“Oh.” The young father deflated a bit. “Right, right. Ah, nevermind then.”

Macao turned to leave, but he stopped short, hovering like there was more to ask. (Porlyusica was never bothered like this; it wasn’t fair.) 

“Yes?” he prompted tiredly. 

“How do you do it?” Macao blurted, leaving him with no context. The man quickly amended this with a cough. “I mean, balancing mage work and being a father. I love Fairy Tail, and I don’t wanna just up and leave or anything, but I… I want to be a good dad for Romeo. That comes first, ya know? And I’ve seen the way you care for those kids, and the way they look up to you, but you manage to do all that S-Class stuff too. I just… I dunno. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Acnologia almost corrected Macao out of instinct: he wasn’t a father. He had no intention of replacing any of their parents, or even pretending that he was in any way qualified to be a parent. Not…not in the traditional sense, at least. He wasn’t raising them from the beginning like Macao was. He wasn’t some permanent structure in their lives. 

(At least, he used to think he wasn’t.)

Yet, Macao’s question rang true to him, and he couldn’t refute even just a part of it in favor of the whole. Because he knew exactly what Macao meant. He wouldn’t have been able to put it into words like Macao did, but… the feelings were there, and they were real. 

The title still felt wrong, when applied to someone like him, but everything else was there: the desire to do right by them, to keep them safe, to not stifle them.

To not screw everything up.

“I’m not any expert, but…” he started slowly, painfully aware of how clueless he was and how he was stumbling blindly through this whole ordeal. He had messed some things up already—because of course he has—but he had also learned from some of them. Acnologia wouldn’t profess to be an expert on something as lofty as parenthood, but he did know a thing or two about his kids. He was still learning, too, whether that was catching up on things he hadn’t noticed earlier, or simply watching them change. They were all different, but at least in his experience, there might be some of those generic truths that Macao was looking for. Some good principles to follow. 

He thought of how sure the kids had been that their parents had left—of the hurt and uncertainty they felt knowing they were sent to the future. Of how Wendy didn’t like to be alone, or how Natsu needed assurances that somebody would be back even if he never wanted to ask for them. Or how Happy always wanted to tag along to random places, like to the market, or walking home. Or how even Lisanna would want to see him whenever he came back.

“Spend time with them, especially if you were just gone on a quest. When you do go, tell them where you’re going.”

He thought of how Sting wanted to be included, even when he was younger and tinier than he thought he was. Or how Gajeel needed something to do to feel important. Or how Rogue would get excited over small things that meant the world to him, even if just for that moment. Or how Levy would ramble about her own research, searching for his opinions even if he had nothing.

“Encourage them and pay attention to their interests, even if it’s different from yours. Let them try things, even if you know you could do it better. Answer their questions to the best of your ability.”

He thought of Erik, easily overwhelmed by stimulus but equally scared of silence. Of Mystogan, who hated being startled or crowded. Of Charle, who would deny her own feelings and pretend she was fine unless she was called out.

“Protect them, but don’t let them feel bad for needing it.”

With a wince, he thought of how the kids had cried and screamed when he tried to leave, after telling them what he had done to the dragons. Of the way Natsu had shook when he found out that he had seen Zeref, and hadn’t told him. Of how Laxus had remembered him six years after his encounter, demanding answers and closure without the confidence that he would receive it.

“Be honest with them. Especially when you fucked up.”

Macao wouldn’t have done the things that Acnologia did. Hopefully, he never will. His relationship with his kid would be simpler, but even still, he was a mage, and those didn’t have to have Acnologia’s laundry list of issues to run into complications. 

He cleared his throat, aware that he drifted from the original question. It was just a deep subject, that was all.

“You don’t have to abandon the guild, or anything else, really, but especially with your kid so young… You’re right. He is going to need your attention first. When he gets older, he’ll understand that you have interests just like he does. Maybe he’ll gain an interest in magic. Maybe he won’t. I can’t say that I have any special ‘balance’ figured out, because truth be told, I only joined the guild because the kids joined first. I just know that they need both space and attention, and how much of each depends on the kid. As long as you honestly get to know your kid, you’ll figure it out.”

Macao studied him for a minute, and Acnologia suddenly regretted ever attempting to answer the question at all. Even if Acnologia was somewhat certain that he knew what he was doing with his kids, that didn’t mean that it was true for others. Especially non-traumatized, human, two-year-olds. Those might be different.

But Macao nodded, smiling slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It just takes time to figure it all out, doesn’t it?” This time, he really did go to the doorway. “Thank you. This really helped.”

Acnologia watched him leave, still a bit numbed by the implications of the conversation. 

Was he…really a dad? 

He wasn’t sure. He was sure that he would do anything to take care of those kids, and to make sure that they had a good life. Maybe that made him a parent after all; maybe it didn’t. In the end, Acnologia decided that the label didn’t matter all that much… but maybe, it wasn’t something to be so afraid of.

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: Nakia

“Microshot” I would say, but this baby is 4691 words so here, enjoy a random chapter.

A continuation from Penelope and Donovan, otherwise known as me being back on my Bickslow’s Babies nonsense, with encroaching plot-building (and also art).

----

When she finally convinced one of the humans to confirm that her little sister was dead, Nakia laughed.

It was a horrible thing to do. The sound was grating to her own ears, her vocal cords weak from the years of mutations and surgeries, but it was reflex all the same. Her sister was finally free. With no help from Nakia, of course, but she had already given up the notion that she could possibly do anything. Especially not now. So, when she tapped the floor and felt the emptiness of the cell next to her, and she replayed the curt “Subject 003 is no longer present” in her head, she laughed, again and again.

One down, one to go, then.

If anyone from the outside world were to see her, they would surely deem her crazy. She certainly felt it. Her understanding of the outside slipped into nothing but a bizarre dream, and the only thing Nakia was certain of was that this human-made hell was a bad thing. How far the expanse of metal walls and forced, tasteless magic went… She didn’t know. She didn’t really care. It existed, and she existed in it, and that was simply her existence. Nakia had the feeling that she should care more—and once, she did—but the passion was no longer there. There was no energy for useless things like anger and fear, so she didn’t make the effort for it.

Vaguely, she could recall her village—but only vaguely. Her parents existed in her memory, but only as fuzzy, warm shapes. Her little sister, who had been taken with her in the raid… Nakia remembered her a bit better, if only because her presence was something she had been aware of for years—a small shape felt through the floor. Her shape changed, sometimes, and Nakia didn’t have enough sense of what she looked like anymore, so it was hard to tell which shapes were right and which weren’t. The only thing that Nakia could remember was that her sister had the same hair she did. At least, she used to. The color itself was irrelevant: just another thing she had forgotten. And Nakia remembered enough to know that she has forgotten many, many things. (She couldn’t even remember her sister’s name anymore: just ‘subject 003.’ How awful was that?)

Not that it mattered. The little girl that Nakia’s cracking heart still ached for was gone. There was nothing to ache over anymore. She only had to feel the coldness of the steel floor, and the vibrations of foreign footsteps she knew so well, and something the jittery magic that pelted through her until her brain wasn’t memories or thoughts—just soothing static.

“Subject 004,” a nasally voice announced. Oh, good! It was the bald one! They were easy to recognize, and better yet, they were one of the few humans that didn’t fuss when she ran her fingers along the hall. They didn’t say much at all, but that was okay. None of them did.

She stood, bracing herself against the corner of her little room. It was time for another one of the more exciting days.

—o0o—

Nakia’s fingers tingled. She didn’t like that. If she pressed her bare feet against the ground, then she could still feel the room, but if she used her hand… It was harder. All she could feel was the static—and that was a feeling that belonged in her brain, or maybe on her tongue, but not her hand.

She pouted to herself. That sucked. She liked her hands. That’s how she felt things the best. Her feet would do, but her feet have been off for a long time. Nakia’s memory may be bad, but she did remember that she used to be able to do…something with her feet. They transformed. (Okay, so the details were lost to her, but she knew that she forgot, at least.) Now they were always human feet, and that wasn’t terrible, but they couldn’t feel things as good as she knew they should.

So. Hands.

She wished they would return back to normal soon enough. Nakia knew how to manage this horrible life she lived, but without her best sense? It would so much worse.

—o0o—

She was beginning to suspect that they were running out of things to do with her, because they kept changing what happened. It was exciting and nerve-wracking all at the same time.

After a few more different tests, the humans stopped concerning themselves with her body. Maybe it was because she looked human now? (At least, Nakia thought so. There was no way to tell for sure.) She didn’t try to think too hard about it, because the humans and their reasonings always confused her, and honestly? She didn’t want to know. That would just be another fruitless worry.

“We have a sensory test scheduled,” one human said. “Why are you setting up for another magic probe?”

“We just did a sensory test,” the other human responded. “The results were as expected at this stage. It would be better to pair it with a reading, so we can compare it to the control data.”

The first human scoffed. “We have a thousand of those readings. We already determined that 004 maintained the same frequency, despite the loss of non-human facilities. It’s pointless to do more.”

“And it’s pointless to do more sensory tests, too.”

She didn’t pay much attention to the humans’ conversations when they happened, because it was mostly jargon to her ears, but it was also more interesting to listen when the alternative was re-evaluating every scratch on the metal surface. (There were a lot, and faulty memory aside, Nakia didn’t think that all of them were hers. At least, she didn’t remember making any at all, so there probably wasn’t many that she was the cause of. As far as she was aware. How would she scratch the surface, anyway? There was nothing sharp about her. Not now, and she didn’t think there used to be either…)

“Subject 004,” one of the humans said, and she recognized that they were talking to her. “Come.”

She hopped off the table, glad that whatever they determined to do didn’t involve it. The table meant having to stay still while they worked on her or did stuff to her, and those things tended to hurt.

Nakia recognized the winding path to the Large Room, where the running platforms and other physical activities were. Oh, this wasn’t bad at all. She wasn’t fond of the feeling of her legs collapsing, but she also did want to stretch them. Anything to make the weirdness in them go away.

The human guided her to one of the running platforms, and she felt the tickle of those little strings they attached to her legs.

“We’ll just do a little today,” the human murmured, “until the boss decides what to do with you.”

The boss—that was the maybe-human with the weird scent, right? She wondered if she was going to be in a room with him again. Nakia wasn’t sure she wanted to, but the magic that crawled around him was bizarre enough that she would surely be distracted by it, if she sensed it again.

Not that the boss usually visited. Of course, just because Nakia only remembered it once, didn’t mean that it hadn’t happened before.

Oh well. Whatever happens will happen.

—o0o—

They didn’t do anything with her for a while. Probably because of all of that talk of the boss. She never sensed him near her, though. It was a little disappointing. (Except he was Freaky, so also, it really wasn’t.)

The bald human came for her eventually.

“Alright, Four,” he said, “we’re trying something new today.”

That sounded interesting. He meant it, too, because he led her down a path she did not recognize. How exciting. And nerve-wracking, perhaps, but Nakia had long since lost the energy to be anxious in that regard. Things simply happened, and that was it.

They took her into a room, and a door clicked shut behind her. She couldn’t immediately find a wall, but through the smooth and cold floor, she surmised that the room was completely empty. It was almost like her room, except one of the walls was funny. A window maybe? Nakia couldn’t sense anything past the room, so she didn’t think much more about it.

Nobody asked her to do anything, so Nakia just wandered. She found two of the normal walls when the door opened a second time, and somebody stumbled in.

The new person was small and light. Nakia’s nonchalance faded, just a bit, as she realized that they must be a child—another one of the human mages’ test subjects.

There was nothing that could be done about it, but Nakia still found herself sad over the matter.

“This again?” the new person whined, and his voice matched the age that she imagined. He wasn’t a tiny child, but he only came up to her shoulders. A few years younger, perhaps? (The age of her sister?)

“Sorry lady,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Can’t keep the peanut gallery waiting.”

Nothing happened, though. Nakia could sense magic from him, but nothing beyond that. The room was still, and so was he.

After a few awkward seconds of silence, Nakia grew impatient in her curiosity. “What are you doing?”

“Huh.” The boy sounded just as confused. “Nothing, apparently. You can, uh, still move and stuff?”

She stretched her hands back and forth and nodded. “Am I… not supposed to?”

The humans hadn’t told her to do anything, or to not do anything, so she was confused on that front as well. They probably told the boy what they wanted from this room, so she listened to him instead.

“Um… No, not really? Ugh, my stupid eyes finally don’t work, I guess.”

He looked nervously towards the fake wall, but nothing happened. The humans were being patient about this. The boss must not be interested after all—that’s always when they got nervous and wanted to go faster.

Nothing happened, and nobody said anything.

“Huh.”

The boy’s voice was quiet and perplexed. Nakia didn’t know what spurred on the reaction though. Nothing was happening.

“Your soul looks weird.”

Oh? Nakia didn’t remember anything about souls—although she was far from reliable in that sense. “My soul? I didn’t realize they looked like anything.”

“Uh, yeah, I can see them. Yours isn’t a circle though.”

“Is it supposed to be?”

“Yes…?”

Nakia did not pretend to understand the contents of the conversation, but it was also the most anyone had talked to her—and listened to her—in… Well, she couldn’t remember how long it has been, but it felt like forever. Some of the humans—er, older humans, if she were to assume this kid was human—would answer her questions from time to time, but they never indulged her for long.

None of them stopped her and the boy from talking now, so Nakia took advantage of it, even if the topic didn’t make that much sense.

“What does it look like, then?”

The boy had to think about it. “Kinda…long? Oval-ish? That’s not normal, right?”

Hm? Was he asking her?

“Yeah okay, you’re right. Of course you don’t know,” the boy sighed, having received an answer. There was no one else in the room, though, and Nakia didn’t hear anything. That was weird.

“Maybe that’s why my magic isn’t working. Hey, quick question: are my eyes green? I’m pretty sure they’re green when they hijack people. That’s what granny said at least—she said they were super creepy, too.”

“Green?” Oh, he was asking her about what his eyes looked like. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Huh? Wait a second!” At this, the point had some sort of epiphany. He moved closer to her, waving a hand near her face. “You can’t see, can you? Your eyes look kind of glassy.”

Did they? She hadn’t realized that was a thing. “Nope.”

He laughed. “That makes sense. I gotta look at your eyes, but if you can’t see me, then it doesn’t work! Or, maybe because your eyes are broken it doesn’t work? No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Hey, um, doctor dudes?” he called, raising his voice. “I can’t do the thing with her. Just so you know.”

After a pause, a disembodied voice came from the fake wall. “Carry on attempting non-visual manipulation.”

“Non-visual… What?”

There came an agitated grunt from the voice. She believed it was the bald one, but she couldn’t be sure through the weirdness of the floating voice. “Make contact with the soul without the eye-link. This is currently a long-term project. You have time.”

The voice cut away. It was just the two of them again, and since there wasn’t anything they wanted her to do, Nakia was content on enjoying the company of somebody who was actually pretty nice.

The boy huffed, a cross between dramatic and resigned. “Okay then,” he muttered. Then, louder, he said, “Guess we’ll be here a while then. I’m Bickslow, by the way.”

She perked at that. It had been so long since she heard a name of any kind. Honestly, it was a miracle she remembered her own. She hoped she didn’t forget the boy’s too quickly. “I’m Nakia.”

Bickslow bounced a little at that, and judging by his tone, she guessed he was excitement. “Wow. It’s so nice to hear a real name, and not just numbers. What’s up with those guys and numbers, anyway?” He paused, before spluttering. “What? No, your names are real! I just meant a name I didn’t have to make up.”

“I don’t think I made ‘Nakia’ up,” she responded, bemused by the conversation and by the prospect that maybe she hadn’t remembered her name after all. Oh well. It didn’t bother her if it was made up; at least she remembered it.

“Oh, uh, sorry, not you,” Bickslow chuckled awkwardly. “Nakia’s a nice name though. And, uh, sorry if I accidentally mess you up a bit. If I don’t try to mess with your soul, they’ll notice and get mad again. It shouldn’t hurt you or anything! But, uh, I also don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. It was sweet. All the humans here had poked and prodded her to their hearts content, messing with her head, her eyes, her skin, and anything else, but the boy was the first to apologize for it. Besides, Nakia wasn’t so far gone as to not realize that the boy had no choice in the matter, unlike the other human mages. The boy even wore the same kind of loose shirt that she had, the kind that barely kept her warm like she thought clothes should, even after they finally gave her a bigger one.

There was no need for the boy to worry about her.

She knew there wasn’t much left of her anyway.

—o0o—

It became the new routine.

Occasionally, she would only be in the company of the humans, who would do that magic sense thing over her and write things down wordlessly, but mostly, she was taken to the room with the boy.

Bickslow. She could still remember that his name was Bickslow.

He tried using his magic on her too, but it never really worked. Sometimes, she could feel something in her chest, or she would black-out for a second, but those things were normal; she wasn’t sure if it was his doing or not.

Not that it mattered to her. Really, she enjoyed the time she spent with the boy. He was very talkative, even if sometimes he talked to things that wasn’t her, and that got confusing sometimes.

It was just nice to be in the company of another—especially somebody so lively. She wondered: was her little sister this energetic, back when they were both younger and they hadn’t been caged in the cold human building? Nakia thought so, but she couldn’t trust the memory.

Either way, the younger boy made her think of her sister a lot, and that was a good thing, even if it could make even Nakia needlessly sad, from time to time.

Mostly because it made her wonder if she would outlive him too.

—o0o—

“So, if you can control somebody’s soul, you control their body?” she asked. Nakia wasn’t all that curious about the topic, but it was something to talk about, and it helped Bickslow focus.

It also meant that he wasn’t pushing his magic, making his nose bleed and his eyes hurt.

“I guess, yeah. They are sorta connected, but also not really? Since, uh, souls can come out of the body sometimes.”

“What happens then?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his voice lowering in volume. “I’m pretty sure that just happens when someone is dead.”

“Oh.”

—o0o—

“Did they do something to your eyes?” he asked one day. “Not that you have to answer or anything. I know I usually start my magic by looking at somebody’s eyes, and I’m really not sure if it doesn’t work on you because you’re blind, or if because they look kinda screwy. Or your soul shape. Then again, I haven’t really seen all that many souls before I got locked up in here, so maybe that’s normal.”

Nakia had to think about. “I don’t remember seeing anything,” she recalled, though it was hard to say if that meant she had been blind forever, or if she forgot what it was like to see. “They did do things to my face though. I think. It might have been my eyes. What do they look like?”

“Uh…” Bickslow had to think about it. “Cloudy? And I think there’s scars over both of them, though one of your pupils is missing?”

“What’s a pupil?”

“…nevermind, it’s not that important. I was just wondering.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay.”

—o0o—

“Subject 008,” the human warned. “Do not waste time.”

He whined slightly. “I’m trying, okay?”

There was a crackle and a hum. Whatever had happened had displeased them, and their displeasure showed up in the form of angry magic and pain. She had witnessed them take their displeasure out on Bickslow once already, and once was enough, Nakia decided.

She pulled Bickslow closer to her, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I felt something,” she assured them, even though she still wasn’t sure precisely they wanted to happen. “It was working.”

They paused, contemplating her words from beyond the fake wall. They tended to listen to her, she noticed, only after seeing how they treated Bickslow. It might be because they said she was “docile.” That was fine. Nakia did not waste energy being scared of them, and if that meant they didn’t get upset, then it was beneficial.

“Very well,” they conceded. “Carry on.”

—o0o—

“No, I totally did it! What? No, I’m not crazy, you’re crazy! …Okay, fair.”

Nakia rubbed her head because it was a little sore, but she felt fine overall. Not that she could remember what just happened.

Oh well.

Bickslow was having a conversation with the invisible person (people?) again, though, and this time Nakia was curious enough to question it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Huh? Oh. Um.” He fidgeted, glancing to the fake wall. “Nobody. Just myself.”

He didn’t want to say. That was fine.

—o0o—

It was later when he finally told her, in a nervous whisper. Perhaps he did not want the older humans to know, and Nakia didn’t blame him. They might try to take them away.

It had been a long day, and they were both exhausted, slumped in a corner for the time being. Nobody bothered them, though, so perhaps nobody was paying attention.

Whatever it was that Bickslow was doing, she could feel it now. It was like she had used too much magic, except she hardly used any.

Bickslow was pressed against her side, so she could feel him without needing her magic to do so. He poked at the air absently, then whispered, “There’s two souls that follow me around.”

Souls without bodies.

Ah, that would explain it.

“That’s nice,” she hummed, even though she could see how it would be a little sad too. But, they had each other. “They keep you company.”

He made a little noise in his throat. “Yeah, you could say that… They don’t really talk much, but they can…emote? Is that the right word? I can understand them, if that’s what you mean. I, uh, hope it’s not too weird?”

Nakia didn’t even know what was normal. But Bickslow asked her these kinds of questions fairly often—maybe because she was older, and he thought she knew stuff. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Guess not… Still, uh, I don’t want them knowing I can do that. They might…” He shook his head, not finishing the sentence.

She changed the subject for him, sensing his distress. “What do they look like?”

“Oh! Um. Like little colored balls. But not like how souls—except for yours—look like balls. They’re…floatier? Gasier?” He snorted. “No I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

Nakia giggled. “So they’re like little babies,” she decided. Perhaps not the best analogy, but it was better to imagine that they were simply young and hidden, and not removed from the world to the point that they forgot how to exist.

“Eight. Four,” a voice warned.

Bickslow sighed. “Break time’s over.”

—o0o—

Bickslow finally did it.

Of course, Nakia wasn’t fully aware of how it went down, but she somehow knew that he had grabbed a hold of her soul.

Perhaps because she could, in a way, feel him in return—not just physically, with her magic. She knew he was elated, and then, she knew that he quickly fell into despondency and cold realization.

Then again, that wasn’t entirely new. She had a good grasp on the boy’s emotive state before, the more time they had spent in the room together. Even if she didn’t fully understand it, she knew it was there.

(Maybe it was the magic. Or, maybe, she just remembered what it was like to be a big sister again.)

So, when she reached out to him, she wasn’t surprised when he crashed into her chest, hugging her waist tightly.

“If I don’t see you again…” he started, but a hiccup stopped his sentence short.

It was okay. Nakia understood. If he was able to consistently replicate what the humans wanted, then the experiment would end.

They may never be in the same room again, even if they were prisoners of the same building.

She placed a hand on his head. It had gotten fluffier. “Then you can remember me.”

His memory was much better than hers, after all—though Nakia sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t forget him so soon.

Bickslow sniffled a bit and continued to hug her. She managed to awkwardly return the gesture before the humans interfered, ending the experiment and sending them back to their rooms.

—o0o—

Bickslow had been right. They never saw each other again.

They started to take Nakia to a new room—one with a table.

After so long of not having a table, she was a little annoyed to be faced with one again, but she got over it soon enough. For the most part, it was just more scans and little prods. Nothing too bad, though sometimes it burned and kept burning, like an irritation to her skin. Nakia would listen to the humans, at those times, because it was distracting, even though it was confusing.

“Subject 004 is theorized to have a pliable magic container, according to the seith experiments. Boss cleared her for the dragon operation.”

“Really? I thought he was shutting down that one? Subject 002 failed, and 003 was removed. We were never able to replicate Subject 001’s results.”

“Subject 004 here is said to have a similar aptitude for the element we have on hand. Not as much as Subject 003, but that can’t be helped. Honestly? I think the boss is curious. That lacrima isn’t good for anything else—especially with Subject 001 a closed case.”

“Still seems like a waste.”

“You wanna tell the boss that?”

“Fair point.”

“This one’s got the best disposition for it anyway. If it goes well, the boss may get involved—give her an opportunity to move elsewhere, maybe, like with One.”

“Maybe. None of these subjects are nearly as crazy as One, though.”

—o0o—

After several visits to the table room, they brought her to a new table room, just to strap her down. They hadn’t the last few times, and she couldn’t remember the last time they did it at all. Back when the table experiments jolted her, maybe?

Not that that mattered now.

“Try to relax,” a voice murmured, near her ear. “Don’t fight it.”

“Commence the lacrima insertion.”

There was a tingling. For a second, it felt like it had with Bickslow—a warmth in her chest, straining through it was. Then, the tingling turned into electricity, then it burned.

The burning spread. She probably screamed. Her chest burned, then her skin burned, and her magic was consumed.

Nakia simply… burned away.

—o0o—

There was something she needed to do. She couldn’t remember what, though. Somewhere she needed to go? Maybe someone she was going to find. To join? She thought that there should be a compulsion, for some reason—a trail to follow—but there was nothing.

She floated for a bit.

Floating was nice.

Then she remembered that there was a trail. A different one. (She wasn’t sure how it was different than what she expected, but it was.) It tugged at her faintly, and as she floated, the tugging grew.

She followed it.

It led her to a boy. She remembered him, even if he wasn’t the family that she initially expected.

He remembered her too.

Inside the bland room, the boy startled, staring at her like she was a ghost.

(Oh wait. She was, wasn’t she?)

“Nakia?” he asked, and she knew he was upset. She couldn’t do much about it though—just float into him gently.

“Shit, Nakia, I didn’t… I mean, I thought about it, but I didn’t want you to kick the can too, you know.”

There two balls of light next to him. She wasn’t sure how she saw them, but she did. Everything was more of a sense anyway—just energy and magic, that swirled around in shapes that made sense.

One of the balls flickered angrily, and the other flickered warily.

Bickslow shushed them both. “It’s okay, guys, Nakia is a friend. Was? Ugh, shit.”

Oh no. He was getting upset again. She didn’t like that. She nudged him once more, until she elicited a giggle from him.

There. That was better.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “It just sucks, a little.”

She didn’t mind though.

The angry soul sputtered.

“Oh right. That’s Poppo, and this is Pippi. They’re my—what did you call them again?” He laughed. “They’re my babies.”

Poppo huffed, and Pippi peeked at her.

“Yeah, I kinda had to name them myself, since I didn’t know their names, and I didn’t want them to not have a name.”

She thought they were cute.

“Heh. Really?”

Peppe drooped a little.

“Sorry Pippi,” he apologized. Then, to her, he whispered, “I think she’s jealous.”

Both of the other souls startled. She giggled. It was funny.

“Hey, what if I gave you a nickname? Just to stay on theme?”

Oh? She liked that idea. His names were fun anyway.

“Um… Pappa? You know, ‘cause you were kinda like…” He coughed awkwardly. “I dunno, kinda parental? To me, at least.”

She didn’t follow his reasoning, but she liked the name.

“Okay. That works. Yeah.” Bickslow took in a shaky breath. He was still a little upset, but Pappa believed that he would be okay.

She’ll watch over him and make sure of it.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Hi love ur htryds series! It’s amazing I binge read it. And is my new favourite fairytail AU

My only question, are Cubellios and kinanna going to be separate characters? In canon makarov turns kinanna back to human after he realises she was cursed but in ur AU she has a guild mark as cubellious so I was curious how that worked, does makarov just not know she’s human or is something else at play 👀

Cubellios and Kinana are still the same person. Just... nobody as of now knows that Cubellios is actually not a snake. The magic that led to that state of being is very much still in effect, and without anything in particular to look for, nobody has noticed. They just collectively think Cubellios is a funky magic creature, like how the Exceeds are.

AKA, I've went and made this more complicated by actually flushing out Kinana's backstory and the events that led her to becoming Cubellios, instead of just....Makarov happening to wonder past her and immediately knowing what was up :/

But hey! This way I'm going to get soooo much mileage from everyone feeling terrible because they overlooked any signs on account of them being foreign/unknown and ergo not an alarm. >:D

[pencilofawesomeness]

@kiliinstinct put this concept in my head so now I must subject everyone to it

[pencilofawesomeness]

that moment when I really want to draw a certain character a certain type of way, interacting with other characters, but it’s technically a spoiler for my own series so I can’t do anything with it yet even though I’ve technically posted some before just a little but it won’t be a not-spoiler until two arcs from now which could take A While at my current pace, but,,,,,, baby,,,,,,,

[pencilofawesomeness]

Are you going to make a short story where it appears how the dragonslayer, I mean Wendy, Rogue and Gajeel, joined the guild? Because I can't stop thinking how much funny and adorable would be.

Yessss that has definitely been something on my list!! It ended up lower on my priority list since me writing the side stories is mostly me trying to keep up with my squirrel-brain, haha, and then I was focused on anything that I needed to get out before the next arc for maximum context points, and rinse and repeat. I did have something in mind for it though! I just keep switching around whose POV I wanted to focus on. There's so many options, with so many different tones to take XD

But yeah for sure, that's on the table. I do love playing with the babies, and since that scenario gives me an entire gaggle of 12 year olds, it would be soooo much adorable chaos.

[pencilofawesomeness]

insomnia buddies

--

Decided to do one of my beloved nerd-brotps, Levy and Jellal, for the secrets prompt for rare pairs week ( @ftguildevents​ ) because the idea wouldn’t leave me.

Nobody expects the two responsible noodles to enable each other’s bad sleeping habits, but sometimes, that’s what friends are for.

--

April X783

“What time is it?” Levy wondered aloud, stifling a yawn. She didn’t look up from her book though, or make any attempt to go check for herself, and judging from the singular flip of a page, neither did Jellal.

“I have no idea,” he said, a shrug in his voice. “Honestly, I’m scared to find out.”

Levy hummed in noncommittal agreement, finally tearing her eyes away from the pages to lean her head against the bookshelf. If she had to guess, they had already crossed over the four-a.m. threshold that promised that tonight was just going to be another sleepless one, despite their tentative agreement to try to head back to sleep by at least three. Unfortunately, her brain didn’t seem any closer to wanting to sleep; judging by the steady glow of Jellal’s magic, he wasn’t close either.

Yep. Another sleepless night, then. At least she didn’t have any plans for tomorrow.

Levy turned back to her book, easily enraptured by the chapter, her mind happy to have an outlet to focus on. However, she was only another four or five pages forward when another thought hit her.

“Mirajane will find us down here.”

Jellal stiffened beside her, the implications dawning on him as well. “When does she come in again?”

Levy was awake, yes, but not awake enough to find an answer better than “early.” Unlike Chico, who hadn’t cared to mother hen them over bad sleeping habits and pulling all-nighters in the guild library, Mirajane would check in here when she came in to open the hall officially. Levy was even beginning to suspect that she was coming in earlier and earlier specifically to root out the hall for people like them. Which was…mostly just Levy and Jellal. (Master had given them both keys to the building, so it wasn’t like they weren’t allowed to be here or anything; but unfortunately, Mirajane wasn’t supportive of all-nighters in the guild library.)

“She’s going to kill us,” Levy decided.

Jellal closed his fist, his magic light flittering out. She could still see him by her script-lamp that she left on the bookshelf, though, so she saw Jellal’s face split into an almost devious grin. “Only if we get caught.”

Levy snorted out a laugh, her expression soon matching his at the thought of pulling one over on the great Mirajane. “Only if we get caught,” she agreed.

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: Retirement

September X780

He knew the tea was a trap. Or at the very least, that there were strings attached, because Porlyusica had been uncharacteristically vague about why she wanted him to come, but really, he should have seen this coming.

“I’m retiring.”

Acnologia set his tea down slowly. “Didn’t you already retire?” he asked tiredly.

Porlyusica huffed. “I tried to, but those fools of Makarov’s always needed me for something, be it some injury or magic ailment. As Magnolia doesn’t have a competent doctor of its own, I begrudgingly continued as a part-time physician for Fairy Tail. I never intended for this to last, however.”

“What, have you been training an apprentice all this time?” he asked, but it was more of a teasing statement. “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

Her scowl was expected. “Of course not. I don’t have the patience to train some human in my ways. But I don’t have to, now that you’re here.”

The words registered slowly, but he saw where she was going all the same. “No.”

“Acnologia,” Porlyusica scolded. “I know you don’t have the equipment I do, but beyond being a practitioner of healing magic, you are knowledgeable in medicine and ailment, despite pretending not to be.”

“I’m not pretending about anything. I haven’t practiced medicine in…” Shit, how long had it been? It was the 700s now, and it had been the 300s… “—in four hundred years!” It had been strange enough reawakening his healing magic, but that was only a matter of what amounted to muscle memory. Still, the nature of healing magic was simple; it was good for cleaning and closing wounds faster than the body could do on its own—but it only mimicked the body. It wasn’t medicine, or the study thereof. That was much more complicated. Porlyusica knew this. So, when he said he was rusty, he meant it. What little that he’s reviewed through readings barely scratched the surface of it.

Porlyusica could not produce magic, but she could still attempt murder with her eyes. “You’ll learn,” she countered, and it might as well have been an order.

Acnologia was in between a boulder and a canyon. She was persistent, but she was also out of her mind if the woman thought that he magically acquired people skills better than her own. (They were both hopeless.) Not to mention, for the first time in centuries, he was busy. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I can’t do anything full time either. Sure, I help out where I can, but between the emergency S-Class jobs and the kids, I don’t have that kind of time to dedicate. Besides, with my sleep schedule the way it is, somebody is going to die—and I tried re-syncing to a human sleep schedule, believe me: it didn’t work.” It took longer for dragons to reach the resting heartrate of deep sleep, and they stayed in it far longer. Toying with that cycle, back when he was afraid someone was going to totter off of a cliff or starve to death had been…possible, but stressful.

His (very logical) reasons didn’t persuade her. “And you think I dedicate my life for these reckless humans? I’m not asking you to change careers—just to let me retire in peace.”

“Porlyusica,” he argued. “I honestly don’t know as much as you do. Besides, I’m not even licensed anymore.”

He was fine playing medic and healing wounds, but there was something terrifying about truly being a doctor again. He… He couldn’t. Shouldn’t, even.

“If you have questions, ask. I’d much rather deal with you than some human brat,” she countered easily. “And you were licensed, so it wouldn’t be an issue stepping back up.”

“Yes, I was,” he pressed, emphasizing the past tense of it. “Four hundred years ago! Medicine advanced leaps and bounds since then. Not to mention everything I’ve forgotten.”

“Just as much as it devolved. Healing magic isn’t even practiced anymore. It died with dragons, gods, and prideful humans. Time doesn’t matter that much. It’s fleeting anyway.”

Acnologia clenched his teeth, trying not to stare at his palm. Saying he was “licensed” at all was a stretch. Back in the Minstrel region of a few centuries ago, doctors wore a badge—a tattoo on their left palm. It was something that had to be received from another individual with the brand, and nobody knew how the tradition started. He wasn’t even sure if people did that anymore, down there. The title came with the promise to do no harm and to help whenever possible; it was a creed he threw away when he chose violence. It was just as well that when the dragonization process transformed his body from the inside out, it removed that mark along with all of his old scars.

“Porlyusica, please. I get that you want to retire, but I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“To keep living,” she snapped. There was a note of desperation in her voice that Porlyusica rarely let show, so Acnologia wisely shut his mouth. “To be there. Acnologia, you know I’m aging. Quickly, even. I don’t know how much longer this body will last. This world may not be mine, and these humans aren’t my people, but I’m not so callous that I would abandon those sentimental fools that took me in.” Porlyusica sucked in a breath, swiftly turning so she was no longer facing him. “You’re still young. You’re understanding them faster than I ever could. You would be better for them.”

Damn. Acnologia wasn’t sure what he could possibly say to that. He…understood where she was coming from. It was hard enough to manage yourself when everything around you was a new and difficult concept to grasp. Honestly, he was amazed by the fact that he was interacting with people at all—with some understanding, even. Though Porlyusica gave him too much credit in that matter; he never would have managed it without the kids. Turned out, suddenly caring for time-displaced dragon slayer children presented the opportunity to learn things fast. Sometimes, his head was still spinning.

Not that it made him any more comfortable with the idea that Porlyusica presented. However, it was…true, what she said, about lifespans. Acnologia now aged like a dragon, like Porlyusica now aged as a human. Though he wouldn’t label her as about to kick the bucket, no matter how she spoke. It was also true that he was technically around everyone more often; if he was there, he would deal with a situation before somebody had to go get Porlyusica. He was begrudgingly more efficient, and Acnologia never minded until the notion that he really was the first line of medical defense slammed into it.

“Fine,” he relented softly. “But they’ll still have to bother you first in the winter.”

Porlyusica looked far too smug as she finished off her tea.

He…had a lot of reading to do. Acnologia focused on that, and not the unsettling realization that this was somehow…official now. Though, maybe he should be trying to give himself some more credit; if a killer could be trusted to raise kids, then maybe this wasn’t all that different.

---

One of the reasons I can’t hate the anime is that the bit they added about Acno being a doctor pre-war is just so golden for juicy contrasts and conflicts of character. Also, I know this is not a Frosch piece like I thought, but inspiration came to finish this so at least y’all get something this week.

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: touch starved

That’s right a surprise microshot I literally wrote this morning because I was inspired by today’s—Day 6—theme for @whumptober2021​ @whumptober-archive​: touch starved. 

---

March X778

She kept touching him, and Acnologia didn’t know what to make of it.

It was pragmatic at first—riding him when he flew, sleeping against his wing during the colder nights. When Wendy’s mind reeled from remembering what the black magic scrambled, and she had been feeling far from her best, she stayed pressed to his side more often, sleeping more or just laying there. Acnologia assumed it was a normal response for a child who was borderline ill; she required more heat, and she wanted whatever comforted her.

However, as the days continued to pass, and Wendy returned to normal, it only happened more often. She would tug on his cloak to ask him questions, or lean against his side when they ate, or bury herself extra deep in his wings, or grab at his arm or claw whenever she wanted to show him something.

It freaked him out. Wendy was small, but she was far from stealthy. He could hear her or smell her approaching if he did not see her. Yet she still surprised him, in a way that he couldn’t properly explain. No matter if he was in human or dragon form, her tiny hands could send spasms through his nerves and warm his blood too quickly.

Wendy did not fear dragons or strangers, and she had no reason to fear him. There were reasons, though. There were so many reasons, and he thought of many of them every time Wendy ran up to him with no heed of his reflexes. Acnologia could hurt her so, so easily. He didn’t want to, of course, and he made no effort to, but all it would take was one accident or one lapse of judgement for things to go…badly.

Yet he did not stop her. He should have, but he didn’t have the heart to. He just stayed still and let her do whatever made her comfortable.

At least the cat was more cautious. Acnologia hoped that her friend’s intelligence (though not her sassiness, because damn) would rub off on Wendy, but it ended up being the opposite. A week in, and Acnologia woke up to a very, very small ball of fur pressed up against the heel of his foot, even though he could hear Wendy already tottering around, probably drawing. Even though Charle was smaller than one of his claws, the little area she encompassed next to him was felt through half of his body.

He waited for her to wake up and move—which she did—all the while wondering how a single touch could make him feel the way that he was.

It happened again. Acnologia was tending to the garden when Wendy shuffled up to him and immediately inserted herself between his arm and his side, wrapping her arms around him. “Hi Ac-nii,” she mumbled sleepily.

She started bouncing between calling him that or ‘Acno.’ He ignored the implications of the former, because the six-year-old had already proven to be unable to pronounce his full name, so she settled on similar yet shorter sounds. That was all.

“Are you cold, squirt?” he asked. Acnologia had asked before, because it was winter in the mountains, even though he sensed that Wendy knew (at least unconsciously) how to circulate her air magic within herself to keep warm. Still, he had retrieved old furs he had kept, and gathered and cleaned new ones, so Wendy and her cat had something to burrow in when they couldn’t use him. He also kept a fire going and repurposed some cloaks to fit her if her clothing was ever too thin.

Still, she kept getting close to him, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if it was colder than he realized. Degrees of temperature meant little to him; all he knew was that it was cold, even though spring was approaching early this year, and he was still lethargic. (Not that he could sleep, truly; not with a six-year-old and a kitten somehow in his care.)

His side was more sensitive, comparatively, having thinner scales than his back. The sensation carried over to his human form, because even something as small and delicate as this child sent his nerves into a warm frenzy. Not in a bad way… but it was weird.

“No,” Wendy responded, not moving away from him.

Acnologia was at a loss. “Is there something else you need?”

She was quiet for a moment, before she gave a quiet, “A hug. You’re big enough to hug.”

He froze. He…hadn’t considered that the reoccurring habit was simply…out of want.

Wendy hugged Charle all the time, though it was practically just her way of carrying the kitten. But when she mentioned his size, he realized that what the two girls did wasn’t…double sided. Charle was too tiny to do much of anything, especially with those stubby little arms.

It was obvious now that Wendy was simply an affectionate girl. For practically being a sky dragon spawn, it made sense. Dragons were lone creatures, but when they had packs, they were close-knit. Humans were similar, in that aspect. And Wendy…

Wendy had practically been alone. The specter was there, somewhat solid and pretending to be a mass of people, and maybe their touch could fool someone for a moment, but it would never be prolonged. Not the way Wendy would just…stay there, practically snuggling.

Oh. She did need this, didn’t she?

“Okay,” he whispered back, and Wendy responded with happy fervor, pressing herself deeper into his chest and wrapping both her arms tighter around him. She couldn’t even wrap the entirety of her torso. She was so tiny—so fragile.

He was hyperaware of this, as he always was, when he slowly lowered his arm to return the gesture, just as she had requested. Acnologia focused on the sensation of feeling, acutely aware of how differently his nerves were mapped in his form than in the other, so he wouldn’t apply too much pressure by mistake.

Tentatively, hesitantly, the dragon hugged the girl.

The warm sensation in his chest bloomed and doubled. If Acnologia was at all aware of his own desires or feelings, instead of being single-mindedly focused on not hurting Wendy, then maybe, he could have admitted to himself that he was just as touch starved as she was.

---

I have a headcanon that all of the dragon slayers are very snuggly. Especially since they accidentally developed a little dragon pack early on, and all of these guild people are clearly not the lonesome-dragon types, so uh... Yeah. Does this have to do with my desire to make dragons just like giant reptile cats? Little bit, yeah.

[pencilofawesomeness]

The Fish Debate

July, X779

 “You are all weird.”

“We’re weird? No, you’re weird!”

“No, you are. Maybe not Sting. He makes sense.”

“Yeah I do!”

“Fine, Sting likes his food boring—”

“Hey!”

“—but you’re still weird. How are you not sick?”

“I’m a cat.”

Acnologia was well used to the odd and sometimes heated discussions the kids could get into. Which was fine. They had a lot of energy, and it was better than using that energy to burn down the house or knock holes into the guild hall. However, he also learned that he could quickly get wrapped into them if he wasn’t careful.

That being said, there was a fire outside, and he was still jumpy after that pine tree combusted last week, so he went to investigate anyway.

“I’m not in the kitchen,” Natsu quickly defended when Acnologia approached them. He could see now that Natsu, Rogue, Sting, and Happy were cooking fish over a fire (which was at least well maintained, so Natsu was getting better at that). Whether they were choosing the outdoor method because it was easier for them, more fun, or because they weren’t allowed unsupervised in the kitchen (Acnologia was tired of fixing busted appliance-lacrimas and putting out grease fires) he didn’t know. They seemed to be well maintained now, other than the fact that Natsu and Rogue were both doing horrendous things to their fish.

“I know,” he responded loosely, still suspicious. As long as they weren’t setting the forest on fire, it was fine.

“Natsu was teaching us how to make campfires,” Rogue explained. “For jobs.”

“And fishing,” Sting added. Acnologia guessed that the focus became on fishing, based on the amount of fish they had.

That seemed reasonable. Odd, maybe, but reasonable. It was a good skill to have, and he supposed that Natsu could build a fire without magic for elemental consumption purposes. “Okay.”

Satisfied that the situation didn’t seem to need adult intervention (he would still pay attention from a distance just to be sure), Acno turned to leave, but Happy stopped him.

“Acno, can you try my fish?” he asked, and Acnologia found himself looking into Happy’s pleading toddler eyes and unable to deny him. Especially since the fish didn’t look charred to the abyss like Natsu’s and Rogue’s.

“Okay,” he relented, accepting the offering and taking a bite. It wouldn’t hurt anyway. He had a feeling they were arguing over something of this sort, and this was probably dragging him into it—their intent stares all confirmed this—but he had yet to figure out what it was.

Whatever. It tasted fine. He used to not fish often—there weren’t as many high up in the mountains—but ever since taking in Natsu and Happy (namely Happy) he had become re-familiar with them. At least fish didn’t change all that much in four hundred years. “Trout?” he guessed, unsure of what the children wanted from him.

Happy was overjoyed, however, bouncing and waving his paws, while the others looked at him with some undiscernible emotion. “See! See! Acno likes it!”

What was he somehow agreeing to? “I like what?” he asked tiredly.

Happy blinked up at him innocently, though there was a hint of mischief there too. “Raw fish.”

“Raw—? Oh.”

Acnologia realized that the fish wasn’t cooked at all—it was likely just pulled out of the river. That was probably why the kids were staring at him oddly, because he normally cooked food when he was around them. He did typically cook his food… Except sometimes he didn’t. It was troublesome as a dragon and unnecessary. Had he really not noticed?

Well, he noticed the bones. Those were annoying.

“How?” Sting asked, as Natsu and Rogue made some expressions that were a mix between curious and horrified.

“I thought people couldn’t do that,” Rogue asked. And the last thing Acnologia needed was Rogue thinking it was okay to eat raw meat, because dragon slayers weren’t immune to food poisoning.

The reason felt lame though. “…because I’m a dragon.”

(And then they called him ‘Big Happy’ for at least two weeks following.)

--

Kids do the kid-shenanigans, and Acno is not the best human role model. Not the the slayers are purely human. But they’re more-so than he is. (Otherwise known as one of the few moments Acno and Happy are alike, and nobody lets him live it down.)

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: Donovan

I’m back at bullying the babies again for @febuwhump​ Day 7: Used as an Experiment. Same strain as “Penelope” but neither that nor any knowledge of the htryds au is really required, since it’s pre-fic. Check the tags, but a general content warning for body horror and canonical character death.

--------

“Repeat injection type-seven at site-four. Take note of its oxygen levels this time, too.”

“Take note of these ‘oxygen levels’ you salt-licking, shitty, pompous—”

“And somebody shut him up already.”

The researchers shoved that familiar leather strap into his mouth, and Donovan resigned himself to glare at the overly bright ceiling lights instead. They strapped an oxygen mask over him next, and though he couldn’t look anywhere but up from his position on the table, he knew they were attaching the sensors next. He knew this song-and-dance. They weren’t probing him for the shits and giggles, but they also didn’t give a shit about him except for whatever fucked up knowledge they gleaned from their experiments.

This hell was familiar, but it was hell all the same. 

The injections were the worst, because there was so much waiting. They shot him up with their shitty elixirs and waited and stared. When nothing happened—or at least nothing to their liking—then it was incredibly satisfying to watch them whine over it, but that almost meant they stared at him longer, and then they tried more fucked up solutions later. Other times, shit did happen, and he was usually the loser. His veins will burn, or his skin would turn purple, or he would grow a new limb, or he would spout magic he couldn’t even use out of his eyes, or… or something. Sometimes the effects were temporary, and sometimes they weren’t. 

He didn’t need a mirror to know that he didn’t even look human anymore. His skin was gray and dry—scaly even, in some places—and he had more toes than he was born with. Not to mention that his fingernails were thick and blackened. Well. The ones not rotted off, anyway.

Ugh, thinking about his fucked up body was not helping him pass the time before this next shitty injection kicked in. It was more fun when the researcher hacks let him rant and rave, even if they ignored him. They tried really hard to pretend like he was just some yipping dog, but then he finally drove them to madness and they liked to shut him up instead. It was both his win and his loss, because while he took victory in his ability to drive them insane, it deprived him of amusement.

Donovan knew that the only way out of this hellhole was death, but death didn’t sound great either, being permanent and all. Honestly, he was just waiting for the day to come when these assholes shot so much monster juice into his system that he could successfully overpower their magic trinkets and slaughter them all. That would be fun.

Fantasies of ripping researchers limb for limb and making them eat their dumb hats did a fine job at passing the time.

——

Donovan laid on the metal floor, stared up at the metal ceiling, and he tossed his probably also metal bowl into the air. It spun upwards, just barely missing the top, and it came back down. He caught the bowl, glared disdainfully at the ‘002’ stamped on the side, and he tossed it again.

God. If they were going to start waiting days in between their little science sessions, the least they could do was give him a ball, or something. He was bored out of his damn mind.

They were either having too much fun with the other poor saps that he was sure they probably had, or the ‘black vomit’ incident actually scared them into letting him rest. And… Well, he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least a little grateful for it, because that ordeal sucked, but he also hated sitting there in his dumb bland crate of a room, because… Well just because. He hated it, end of discussion.

He glanced over at the wall of tally marks he had started, but he gave up on that a long time ago. How long had passed didn’t matter. Sometimes, he would still idly wonder if he finally made it to his 20s—though it was somehow more depressing to think he was a grown-ass adult being subjected to this madness than a punk street rat sold by Boscan wranglers, so Donovan always ended his wondering there. 

Besides, the trick to surviving this hell (until his day of reckoning) was to focus on the short-term stuff. If he could handle that, over and over again, then time passed.

Simple as that.

——

Donovan jumped, scrambling for purchase on the ledge he barely missed. His fingernails were practically claws at this point, so when dug them into the wood, it worked.

Gradually, the injections started to accumulate into the same things: claws, hardened skin, and elongated feet. The feet hurt like hell, especially at first, but it turned out he was pretty good at jumping with those demon feet, so the researchers gave him an obstacle course to shove him through nowadays. 

He vastly preferred it to getting strapped to fucking tables, though admittedly, their idea of what he could and could not do varied wildly, leading to some less than stellar situations on his part. Though that was mostly because they wanted to set everything on fire or set metal rungs to five thousand degrees.

They really wanted him to be fireproof or something.

Spoiler: he was not.

But Donovan gave these hellish obstacle courses his best shot anyway, because for once, their interests aligned. He wanted to become stronger, and he was going to make them regret letting him become a monster.

——

So.

Perhaps he had been a little cocky.

Donovan was pleased with his growing speed and leg power, and while he still wasn’t fireproof, one of their tests made his skin randomly flare up and become hot. It was incredibly annoying, and it could easily burn him if the roll of the dice was bad, but it also gave him an edge. It could burn other things too.

His fingertips were burning and his nerves were itching, so when the usual sap came by in the morning to haul him away, lax in the security of his usual success, Donovan lunged.

Tearing him open and hearing the guard’s surprised screams was every bit as satisfying as he dreamed. 

He wasn’t sure exactly how many of them he killed, or at least maimed. Donovan liked to think it was a lot, but it was probably only three or four before somebody got a good hit to his neck with one of the magic prods, and it all went downhill from there.

It was still worth it though.

——

They continued to fill his blood with elixirs, and his body continued to change. No matter how much of him broke in the process, and how much of his skin rotted and burned away, he grew stronger.

He continued to fight.

He continued to dream that he could make them all bleed. 

——

“Shard insertion is prepped. Ready to commence.”

“Get that fucking thing away from me!”

“Hold its neck down.”

“Sir. Are you sure you want to try this? The technique is antiquated. It could cause irreversible brain damage.”

“I’ll give you brain damage!”

“Absolutely. Our tests can’t continue if Subject 002 continues this feral behavior. Besides, if it succeeds, then we know our studies of old Minstrelian lacrimas are sound. If it doesn’t… Well. Subject 003 was a better success anyway.”

“Subject 003 was taken to the field for a completely different experiment. Subject 002 is still our most advanced one available for this study.”

“And our most volatile subject. Commence the test.”

——

They shoved a lacrima into his forehead like it was broken glass. It was the worst thing he had experienced in his life, and he had been through a lot of shit.

There was a ton of noise around him (maybe him screaming) but Donovan couldn’t hear any of it past the buzzing in his ears and the excruciating lightning in his skull. There was a part of him who wanted to do anything to make it stop, to succumb and pass out, but he wouldn’t. 

He knew what those bastards wanted to do. They wanted to play with their antique slaver lacrima and make him a good puppy, keeping his beastliness alive while killing it at the same time. They might as well just kill him outright. He wouldn’t be a prisoner in his own mind as well as this damn lab.

So if they wanted to kill him, he would fight that too. He would fight with everything he had left.

——

Everything was white. 

It was boring.

He was stuck in it and it enraged him. The white was everywhere: above him, below him, around him, in him. In fact, there was no him, only white.

He fucking hated it.

He thrashed and he squirmed, and when the whiteness would give way to fuzzy grays and sparking purples, he grabbed onto it and he didn’t let go. Except, no matter how hard he held on, it would fade from his grasp again. 

Over and over and over and over again.

——

There was a spark of green, and like a broken record, he reached for it.

It grabbed back, and the white spun into oblivion.

“Hey!” 

As the colors began to fight with the white, there was a voice.

There were often voices drifting in and out, just out of reach like the colors. They upset him, and he wanted to tear at the voices until they were shredded and burned, but he couldn’t do anything.

This voice was clearer, because he could actually hear it. It also didn’t immediately piss him off. He supposed it was a new voice.

“Hey, can you hear me? You’re more solid now, but you’re flickering a tad. Way more than Pippi did.”

This voice talked a lot, too. It made as little sense as the rest of the voices, but it was least amusing.

The colors settled, and he saw. A boy waved at him, even though he knew that even though the whiteness was gone, he still wasn’t there. It was so annoying.

“Okay, a little less flickering now. I’ve never seen you before. I don’t think. I’m sure I’ve seen people that I don’t remember, but you’re super angry and I think I would remember that,” the boy continued. The spark of green came from his eyes, and it was bright enough to pacify him while the brat rambled on. 

“I’ve definitely seen some angry bits in souls before around here, especially since it flares up whenever I look at all of those stiffy mages, but I’ve never seen this much. Of course, souls do look different when they’re dead. Right Pippi?”

(Oh. He was dead. That was irritating.)

There was another color next to the boy, fuzzy in a clear world. He felt it more than he saw—but that was true of most everything. It was annoying that one fuzzy thing still persisted though.

The other one fluttered and hid behind the boy, even though he still knew it was there.

“Don’t be scared. I’m sure the new guy won’t bite. Uh, I don’t think souls can bite, anyway. Can souls hurt each other?” The other one—the other soul—flashed in fear at the boy’s words. It was funny.

“Oh shit I didn’t mean— Sorry Pippi, it’s okay.”

Somehow the boy touched the soul. Maybe. Well, less of a touch and more of a resonance. It was confusing so he ignored it. 

“I have no idea who you are, so I can’t really guess at a name,” the kid rambled. “Mine’s Bickslow, by the way.”

Yep. He had no idea who this guy was.

“You’re confused, I got it,” Bickslow laughed. “Well, uh, that’s Pippi. That’s not her name either, but I never knew it either. Hm. I’ll just call you Poppo.”

What? That was dumb.

“Hey! You got any better ideas? I have a headache after anchoring you, ya’ know. My brilliance has its limits.”

He had no idea. He grumbled.

“That’s right. Don’t knock it if you ain’t got it.”

Bickslow leaned against the metal wall, rubbing a hand against his face. It wasn’t as bad as the white, but he hated that metal wall too, for some reason.

Well, this kid was more interesting than the whiteness, and he didn’t feel half bad around him. Not as weak, even if he was dead. 

Poppo might as well stick around.

-------

Does it count as an OC if the babies are real but have no revealed prior character? Regardless, I’m going to continue to make myself emotionally attached to them.

Shoutout once again to AgentMalkere and their series for presenting to me the wonderful headcanon about Bickslow. I regard it as canon and I will never let it go. 

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: Coffee

X783

“There you are!” Erza called as she spotted the subject of her search. The guild hall was busy that morning, and Erik was harder to spot without Cubellios somewhere nearby. It was starting to get cold, so she imagined that she must be sleeping. Besides, the job they were going on wasn’t suited for her snake friend, as much as Cubellios loved being there. 

Erik looked up and waved, though he was in the process of downing whatever it was in his thermos. In Erza’s experience, it could very well be poison. 

“Ready?” Jellal asked, ever the prepared one. (He always managed to be ready early for things; how, Erza had no idea.) 

“One minute. Let me finish this before I pass out mid-road,” Erik replied, swirling whatever substance was in his cup before going for another sip. “Acno took the rest so I had to brew more last minute.”

Acno? Wait. Only Erik drank poison, right? Acnologia was some sort of magic-air dragon slayer. “It’s not poison?” she questioned, curious. 

“It’s coffee,” he answered, sounding like he truly did need the boost.

“Wait,” Jellal questioned. “I thought coffee didn’t affect you? I know you liked the taste, but...”

“It doesn’t,” Erik confirmed. “Normally. Acno and I finally figured out how make it work like caffeine for us. It’s technically not poison.” 

With that dubious note, Erik seemed to finish it off, as he clicked the lid shut and stood up. “Hey, Wendy,” he called. Erza hadn’t noticed Wendy here as well, but the girl popped her head out of the doorway that led to the med-bay. “Can you take this home?”

She likely responded, but Erza couldn’t hear what she said. It must have been an affirmative, because Erik tossed the thermos in her direction. Wendy caught it and disappeared again behind the doorway. 

Well, now that that was done, they could go on their way. However, when Erza turned back to Jellal, he had that look on his face—the one he had when he was thinking hard about something that Erza would not immediately understand. 

“So, when you say it’s not poison...” he started, and despite her previous fear, Erza immediately understood where he was going with that line of thought.

“No,” she and Erik said at the same time. 

Jellal lifted his hands placatingly. “I know, I was just curious as to the make-up, if it would even work. I know your diet is different.”

Erik scrutinized him for a moment, before making that displeased grunt. “Even if I wasn’t positive that it might melt human organs, I’m not fueling your bad sleeping habits.”

“Agreed,” Erza voiced with a nod. She also found the concept of Jellal finding an even stronger version of coffee frightening. She had what he claimed was a ‘milder brew’ once, and Erza could have sworn she had an out-of-body experience after. She couldn’t even remember—which lent to the problem.

Jellal just smiled. “You’re probably right,” he laughed, though he directed the last bit at Erik. “A bit hypocritical, perhaps. Although, I do hear that train rides make for good naps...”

“Hush,” Erik chided, whacking Jellal lightly on the shoulder as he slung his bag to his back. “Anyways, are we going or not?”

Why were they both looking at her? “I’m ready,” she defended. Her stuff was outside. Unless, did she also want to take the—? 

Erik released a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, yes, I’m ready,” she decided, much to the visible relief of the boys. “Let’s go.”

---

Jellal drinks coffee like a creative college student dual-majoring during finals week. Got the idea for the coffee thing while drawing this, so I did a little thing. 

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds microshot: Wendy's Healer Training

Freed: Wendy, I promise, I'm fine. There's no need to waste magic on me.

Wendy: But your shoulder--

Freed: --is perfectly fine. I know my own body. It's like that saying: 'the customer is always right.' If it's anything, it'll be fine by morning.

Wendy: That's not what Acno says.

Freed: ?

Wendy: He says that 'the patient is always stupid.'

Wendy: Sit back down.

Evergreen, Bickslow, and Laxus: *wheezing*

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds microshot: book nerds

October 7, X778

 It was starting to get colder, but secretly, Levy couldn’t wait for it to be colder. Then, nobody would complain if she curled up inside of her dorm-apartment and read all day long.

Not that there wasn’t stuff to do in the guild, of course, or with Jet and Droy. In fact, there had been a ton of new members this year, and some of them were even her age, which was nice, so Levy really should get to know them better.

The Strauss siblings were nice, even though the oldest one had quickly gotten…intense. Lisanna and Elfman were very kind though (and she was sure Mirajane was too, but she wasn’t the most approachable, so Levy wouldn’t know), and then there was the other group of… siblings? They seemed like siblings, with the way they stuck together, though Levy also knew that that wasn’t always indicative, but she, Jet, and Droy only knew other from the orphanage, but they were like brothers to her, and they stuck together like they were family, too.

Although the youngest boy and the older one did look similar. They both had black hair and red eyes, and red eyes weren’t something that was common. Not that the girl, Wendy, looked anything like them though. Wendy and Rogue she had the most contact with. They were delightful children—and quite young; it was amazing they could perform magic at their age—and very polite. She had been helping them with reading material ever since she found out they were still learning. And of course they were—they were only six or seven. The older one, Gajeel, was closer to her age, but he was more…stand-offish. And intimidating. She wasn’t sure if it was all of the piercings or the way he always glared and sulked in corners. What was it about the oldest of a group of three being the scariest? (Well, there was nothing scary about Jet, so that observation was limited to the two new groups of Fairy Tail.)

Enough about that, though. Levy had properly introduced herself, and that was what mattered. Not that that was recently, or anything. Meeting new people was still the difficult part of being in the guild, not that she regretted joining for one moment.

Levy knew the way to the bookstore by heart. She was positive she could navigate the building itself blind by now, though that wasn’t a large feat; it was pretty small. Although, she had still yet to read the store’s entire selection, so it was still plenty large enough—for the time being.

What was she in the mood to read this time? Hm, maybe fiction. Levy enacted her normal strategy of browsing until she had a suitable stack, wandering between the aisles and sections and stopping whenever she saw something interesting.

Or she stopped when she ran into somebody. Literally. Which wasn’t supposed to happen because there was never anybody in this section, but it happened this time and—

Levy blinked, wondering if she was imagining things. “Gajeel?”

The boy would have jumped out of his skin if he could. “What? Nothing, I wasn’t doing nothin’—!” It was his turn to blink. “Oh. You’re from the guild.”

“Yeah.”

They stared in a moment of silence. Levy wasn’t sure what else to say in a situation like this, especially since he was blocking the bookshelf she was wanting to look at.

Wait a second—there was a book in his hand. He was trying to hide it behind him, but she could recognize that cover anywhere. “Do you like the Detective Danger series too?” Levy blurted.

It was so hard to find other people to talk about it with, because it wasn’t exactly a popular series. It was simple, corny, and a little predicable—but it was charming and heartfelt, and it was enjoyable to read nonetheless, especially for relaxation. Not that Levy had a lot of people to talk about books period with, but the Detective Danger series was not something people followed beyond a stray book or two, so Levy never had anyone to discuss it with.

Gajeel’s face started to turn red. “Wh-what? No,” he denied quickly. Then he seemed to realize that he was holding the fourth book in the series. “I-I mean, it’s okay. Easy read in between training. And stuff.”

Levy resisted the urge to giggle to herself, but it was a hard thing to suppress. Ah, to see the denial up close. There was a time when Levy too would deny her enjoyment of the series (because honestly, it was designed for kids, and even though she was a kid, technically, she had long since moved past that reading level) but the series started to really get interesting around book nine, so she might as well see it through to the end.

“Okaaaay. How’d you like the ending of the ski-lodge case, then?” she asked, feeling devious. If there was anything to have a strong opinion about, it was—

“Are you kidding? It was awesome! The way he choked a guy with a hat, stopped a bullet, and caught that chick, all while skiing down the Deadly Hill? I— I mean… i-it was okay I guess.”

Her face split into a grin. “Busted,” she giggled, and Gajeel deflated like he had been caught doing something embarrassing.

Levy was just thrilled that she would have someone to discuss that twist in book nine with. “Have you read the Underwater Case yet?” she asked.

He looked down at the book in his hand awkwardly. “Ah, no… I haven’t read any since I was in Denish, and even then, there wasn’t really time.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there soon. I remember I read that one—” She pointed to the Volcano Case in his hands “—really fast. Oh, and when you get to the fifth book, I even got the special edition with the extra scene.”

“They make those?”

“Only a few! I got really lucky with that one. Would you…want to borrow it?”

For a second, Gajeel looked overwhelmed. Oh no, she had gone too fast again, hadn’t she? It had just been so long since she could talk about books with people, and even then, the librarian might not count…

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Er, thanks.”

But maybe she can add one more person to her list.

----

You can’t convince me that Mr. Long-coat-tie-and-fedora didn’t internalize cheesy detective fiction at least once in his life. (I headcanon that he did read some stuff post coming to the future to, ya know, learn that modern language stuff, so kid’s fiction is simple enough for that.) He might have been too stubborn to continue it in Phantom Lord, but Gajeel has time (and a fellow reader) now. Meanwhile Levy went through the classic introvert “I don’t know how to talk to people unless it’s about <special interest> and then I can talk a lot.”

Ah, the simple friendship of twelve and thirteen year-olds. 

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds microshot: Penelope

Her name was Penelope.

Sometimes, she had to repeat it to herself, whispering quietly as held her knees and rocked in the dark corner of her dark room, or else, she might forget it. She might forget it ever existed in the first place, but Penelope liked her name, and it was… Well, hers. Not much was hers, anymore. The room and her nightgown were hers, she was pretty sure, but she would rather that they weren’t.

“Subject Six,” the man called, already impatient.

She scrambled upwards, unwilling to make the medical people mad (again) with her slowness and inability to do anything right. They already hated her enough.

Her name was Penelope, but she was the only person who cared.

——

“Again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut at they shot the Zapper at her. She wasn’t sure what it was called, or what they were doing, but it hurt. It had something to do with her magic, though.

Ever since she could remember, her body sometimes went away. It wasn’t gone-gone—she could still feel it, sorta—but it would burst into light and start wiggling. It scared her mommy and daddy, and made them cry sometimes, because Mommy thought it was hurting her. It didn’t really, but it was scary, because sometimes Penelope didn’t know how to come back.

Her parents brought her to the doctor, and the doctor couldn’t do anything, so they brought her to the scientists. They were really nice, at first. She stayed in a comfy little room, and sometimes, people would bring her places and give her medicine (and maybe some painful stuff too) and try to figure out how to control her light-body.

But she must have been too slow. She couldn’t do it. Because one day, they moved her to a new room, and new people started coming, and they were mean and hated her and didn’t care if what they did scared her. Mommy and Daddy stopped coming. Everybody stopped using her name.

Now, she couldn’t even make her body go away. For the first time, she wanted to, and she tried, but Penelope only felt pain. The scientists tried too. They were rougher when they tried, but sometimes it would work, and her fingers would glow, and then her arms froze and she couldn’t again.

It made them angry. Penelope wished it was good enough—she was a little sad she couldn’t do it at all now, but it was better than before, and it was like what everybody wanted—but they wouldn’t give up no matter how many times she asked them to.

“Again.”

Her eyes were shut tight, but tears escaped anyway.

——

They used to always take her to the room with the Zapper after her body stopped doing the light thing, but they took her to a new place instead. Just an empty, plain room. No machines, no tables. She liked it much better.

For the first time, Penelope saw another kid.

He was older than she was, because he was much taller—his head above hers—but he also wasn’t tall enough to be a teenager. She didn’t think. He was wearing the same nightgown she was, and he had blue hair and cloth over his eyes. Was something wrong with them? Or did they make the scientists mad?

“Prep Subject Eight,” somebody said, and a lady removed the cloth that was a blindfold and then hurried behind a door.

She couldn’t see anybody else in the room but the two of them. The boy blinked rapidly, squinting under the bright lights that they had everywhere. There was a drawing on his face; it looked funny, but in a good way.

Normally, they got mad at her for talking, so Penelope gave up trying. But… It was just her and the boy in the room. Maybe… Maybe it was okay?

“Um…” she started. She didn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” the boy whispered back. He was still squinting and blinking a lot, but he smiled at her. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes widened. Nobody cared about that anymore. She wanted to answer him. For real. Six wasn’t really her name, it was… “P… Pe…”

“Subject Eight,” a voice warned from somewhere. It wasn’t directed at her, but she knew that tone. They were impatient, and they wanted him to do something.

He winced.

Her voice, barely working, shut down and she couldn’t find it again. Just like she couldn’t find her magic.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She looked up, and his eyes were finally open. They were a really bright green and—

——

Penelope was cold. Maybe that was because she was alone in a room? She was tired too, but they just brought her out…

The boy was gone. What happened to him? Was he okay?

Somebody came and brought her back to her room and shut off the lights, like it was nighttime.

Maybe it was.

——

The scientists let her see the boy more. Sometimes it was more zapping, but sometimes, it was him. She didn’t remember much of what would happen when she saw the blue-haired boy, but she didn’t mind. It was nice. He was nice.

It probably was his magic. Everyone was here because they were broken, somehow.

She hoped that he could be fixed, so at least one of them wouldn’t be a disappointment.

Sometimes, the times she was with him were a little scary. They wanted him to do things to her. To her body. Make her do things that she wasn’t really doing. Sometimes they would ask things he didn’t want to do, because she would wake up out of the trance and they were mad at him and punishing him for it. Sometimes, she would go the whole day like everything was a dream. She liked those days.

She wished for them when they were zapping her, trying to get her magic to work again.

——

It worked.

Her magic came back.

It was super painful, though, like it had never been before. At least at the start of it. The Zapper machine did something, finally, and her body disappeared. No! If her whole body disappeared, then she couldn’t come back. That was always what scared her and Mommy and Daddy and everyone, and everything hurt, and she was failing and they had the right to be mad because she failed she failed she failed.

But when she disappeared into light, it finally didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt. Her entire body disappeared, and that was bad, but it didn’t hurt.

Her body disappeared and floated away.

And she never came back.

——

She couldn’t leave. They weren’t doing anything with her anymore—they were finally done—but they would mad if she left.

So she couldn’t leave.

She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t leave, shecouldn’tleaveshecouldn’tleaveshecouldn’t—

She didn’t know what to do.

What was she doing?

She was scared.

She couldn’t remember anything, except that she couldn’t leave, and that she was very, very scared.

——

She remembered the boy. Somehow, he was familiar like the walls and the other people, but she wasn’t scared of him.

He must be friendly.

When he was alone, in the room that was his with the lights off, she drifted closer to him. He was the only thing that wasn’t scary. Not being scared was a weird feeling, but she liked it.

He noticed her.

Even when his eyes sometimes turned green, nothing happened. (Was something supposed to happen?) She just drifted closer. Though, maybe he could see her now?

He reached a hand out to her, and she jerked back, not expecting it. She wasn’t scared of him but— but she was a little scared. Of something.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he whispered. Then, a little louder, “Do I know you?”

She didn’t know. Maybe. She couldn’t remember.

She couldn’t speak like he could, but he seemed to understand.

“I do, don’t I? I’m so sorry.”

Why was he apologizing?

“Hey, but now only one of us is stuck here, right?” he laughed.

But she was! She was stuck here and she hated it! Now determined that the boy could see her but he wasn’t scary, she flew closer. She wanted to hide, but she didn’t exist (she disappeared) so she couldn’t.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. I think you’re upset? I don’t know. I’ve never seen a soul by itself before, but it’s kinda the same, but also kinda not. You’re dimmer, than you were before.”

Was she ever bright?

“Here, lemme try something.” He reached out, and she wasn’t scared this time (only a little) so she let him. Then she felt a little fuzzy.

She never felt anything before.

She liked it.

“Okay, still dim, but you’re not flickering anymore. You are the same one as before, right? I think I recognize you.” He tilted his head. “Uh, Six, was it?”

No! Something hot moved through her, though she wasn’t sure what it was. No, no, no! She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but she didn’t like it. Not ‘Six.’ Not that.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said, hands up in the air. “I didn’t mean it. I just never caught your name.”

A name…

Did she have a name?

“Mine’s Bickslow,” he said. She liked it. “I don’t think I ever got that far either. These stiffs are super ornery, am’I’right?” He laughed. She thought it was a little funny too.

“It…started with a ‘P,’ I think?” Bickslow continued. “Um… Help me out?”

She didn’t know.

“Okay so emotions wouldn’t answer that anyway. Uh, all I know is P… ‘Pih’ or something? The first part? Tell you what. I’ll call you something close to it. How do you like ‘Pippi’?”

Pippi.

She liked it.

————

There’s something viciously satisfying about giving character to a character that is, but isn’t, but with the stipulation that they’re dead. (But only kinda.)

I think about the babies too much. 

Shoutout once again to AgentMalkere and their series for presenting to me the wonderful headcanon about Bickslow. I regard it as canon and I will never let it go.

/Edit: I messed up and needed to change her number. No big deal though.