#jsab fc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qwertythepopstarian08 · 6 years ago

Text

JSAB Steampunk AU Fanfic: Terminal

I couldn’t resist writing another gift fic for @just-steams-and-shapes

I have literally fallen in love with that AU, and I’ve realized how fun it is to write Luce and Belle.

I know some details may be off, but I’ve been putting this story on hold for a bit, so I hope everything suffices in quality.

This is technically an AU of an AU of an AU (is that right?) so any inconsistencies can be attributed to that... please?

Also, just because Belle and Luce were the only available characters on that blog so far, I added an OC, Riley the Mountain Blossom. She has a minor role, so please don’t yell about her presence.

Description: Belle realizes just how dangerous Deceoras can be... no matter who they used to be.

Warnings for minor body horror, animal death, angst, and canon-typical violence.

Three months, two weeks, and four days after his transformation, Luce was still a Deceora. Belle had tried everything she could to revert him to normal, from medicine to magic to chiropractic procedure, yet nothing seemed to work.

Belle was in no way fine with this. Luce was reduced to what was essentially an animal, and because of the stigma and fear surrounding the Deceoras, he couldn’t leave the house or even linger by the windows. He was trapped in his own body, barely able to communicate for the words scrambled on his tongue and got lost between his jagged fangs.

The two of them tried their best to find a cure, but it seemed that Luce was doomed to stay a monster forever. Even the feral Deceoras seemed to sense something was up. A few had taken to lingering by the workshop, not attacking but just… watching, beckoning the newly transformed creature to join them.

Each time one came, Belle hoped that their bond would hold up, but even she couldn’t deny the look of distant longing in Luce’s gaze…

Deep down, they both knew that he’d slip. Given his predatory nature, it was only a matter of time.

It had been a full year before things went downhill.

Luce had started falling into a hopelessness, believing that he’d never go back to normal. He’d remained in his beastly state for what felt like an eternity, and each passing day made his heart break as he awoke to see himself looking and feeling like a monster.

At the moment, hee was sulking, perched on one of the tables and trying vainly to gnaw at a granola bar. His teeth just weren’t meant to consume oats, or anything other than meat and shards, for that matter, so he only succeeded in eating the snack one bite at a time, over the course of an hour. It was… loud.

((Cronch-cronch-cronch-cronch))

Belle had tried to raise his spirits. She approached, a tentative smile quirking at her features.

“Luce? You awake?”

It was code for, ‘Are you in control?’ Luce was prone to snapping into a more feral state at times. He never hurt anyone, but he didn’t seem to respond to vocal communication, unable to understand. As of late, he’d been slipping out of control far more often than usual, undoubtedly because of his lack of hope. He just didn’t have the strength to fight his instincts. Much to Belle’s relief, the Deceora nodded, huffing as he sat up. He was aware, although he just wanted to sleep.

“Rrrr….” he growled lowly at her, too tired to muster up words. He licked chocolate from between his teeth, giving Belle a side glance. “Mmrf.”

The purple shape crossed her arms, her tone becoming a bit irritated.

“Come on, Luce… I want to talk to you.”

The Deceora turned around, sighing heavily. “Monsters… don’t talk.” He drew in on himself, a soft, sad croon spilling from his jaws. “But… I listen…”

Belle walked around, cupping the beast’s face in her hands. She was unafraid of his lagoon infection by now. From the looks of it, it only spread through open wounds, and she’d taken care to bandage any work-related injuries. Luce looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes, whimpering a bit. His heart rate eye, now modified to fit his current facial structure, started to slow in pace.

Belle pulled him into a sudden hug, giggling as she heard him squeal and try to break free. He’d gotten significantly bigger during his time as a Deceora. If he stood on his hind legs, he came up to his sister’s shoulders, counting his horns. He was no longer the weakest and smallest of the monsters, but the purple engineer was unafraid, having reassured herself that he’d never raise a claw to her.

He was her brother, after all. They poked fun at each other and teased, but at the end of the day, they only had each other. Belle was rather strong; she had to be, given her line of work. She easily hefted him up to her shoulders, where he clung to her, held by her second pair of arms.

“I”m gonna spin ya….” she warned.

Luce threw his head back and screamed. From any other Deceora, the sound would have been threatening, but in the months that he’d been like this, Luce had learned other ways to communicate besides through his stilted speech. That particular scream was one of excitement.

Luce’s screeching halted as he heard knocking at the door. Belle frowned, and the beast felt himself being lowered. His horns drooped, and he whimpered, allowing himself to be set down.

“Alright, fun’s over,” Belle stifled a chuckle. “You stay right there.”

Luce huffed, sticking his tongue out. He dimly wondered what Belle’s excuse would be now. With his advanced senses, he could hear his old friends outside, undoubtedly looking for him. He admired their loyalty and concern, but it only broke his heart when he heard Belle tell them, time after time, that he was ill and couldn’t come out to play.

He was thirteen now, but he was still a kid… or at least he was before turning into a monster.

His thoughts started to spiral, and he shook his head, standing on shaky legs. A low, curious growl rumbled from his core, and he peered around the corner of the table to see who was at the door.

From what he could see, it was a flower. He vaguely recognized the kid from the last time he’d been outside, before he was cursed. The young sprout had just joined his mutual friend group, and he thought he remembered her name as being something that started with an “R”...

The flower was inquiring about him again. It was a sweet gesture; she hardly knew him, yet she came all this way just to ask about him.

“Uh… do you know when Lucy will be better?”

Luce winced at the nickname. In his current state, he couldn’t quite suppress the urge to hiss, wanting to shatter whoever came up with that title. He wished he could blame his aggression on his current state, but he’d always been a bit volatile at heart...

The girl at the door seemed to hear him, her eyes going wide as she glanced over Belle’s shoulder. Luce darted behind the table, although the flower managed to catch a glimpse of his tail, hearing his claws clicking against the floor. She shuddered.

“What was that?”

Belle tried to remedy the situation, holding up all four of her arms to block the flower’s view. “Nothing, just some old, creaky gears… don’t worry about it!”

The flower narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “I’m worried… is Luce doing alright? He never passes up a chance to go exploring….” Her tone became solemn, almost nostalgic as she sighed. “The other kids say that he once knocked out a bird with his arm cannon. We nursed it back to health, and it’s not mad at him… in fact, we named it Lucy Junior….”

Luce’s growl abruptly cut off, and he blinked, tilting his head. Suddenly, his endearing nickname didn’t seem so bad, and he crooned sadly, thinking about that day, all those months ago.

One of the rowdier kids had dared him to try to shoot fireworks from his arm. They’d all gone out to the forest to goof around and pretend to be explorers or monster-hunters. Up until his disappearance, Luce fondly recalled the crazy stunts that the others put him through. It was all fun and games for the most part. Occasionally, a kid broke an arm, or a few bushes got burned down. But no real damage was created.

The bird had been a misfire. It had been sitting in a tree, far away from the action. But then, as soon as Luce readied his cannon, it swooped, coming down in a collision course for the blast. They had banded together to nurse it back to health; they may have been a destructive bunch, but none of them would actually kill someone… Right after that, Luce vanished, having fallen to the Deceora curse…

Luce whimpered, looking up to see Belle starting to close the door. He shook his head, suddenly growling to himself.

He missed his friends, he missed his life… he missed being a kid... and not some abomination. He wanted his old life back, even if he stayed a monster.

Without a second thought, he jumped up and rushed at the door, shrieking. It was meant to be one of his signature battle cries, but in his current form, it came out as a threatening roar.

The girl, whose name he now remembered as “Riley,” turned with wide eyes. Luce was vaguely aware of Belle’s startled yell, hearing her begin to mutter blights and otherwise rude exclamations.

Luce ignored her, determined. He rushed through the door, leaning outside to see the girl. Mustering up the willpower to be understood, he screamed, “RILEY! IT’S ME!”

Riley screamed, staggering back. She obviously knew what a Deceora was… everyone around here knew all too well. She scrambled back, watching with wide eyes as Belle fearlessly grabbed the monster by the tail, dragging him into the house again.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Tryin’ to get killed?”

He whimpered, shaking his head and pointing at Riley.

He choked, “Friend….I miss… my friends.”

Belle groaned, holding her head. She crossed her arms, backing away and allowing the Deceora to go free.

“Well, half the neighborhood has heard ya now… might as well go and clear things up before people start jumping to conclusions... “

Her gaze became distant, and Luce knew that she was thinking back to his initial change. Belle had assumed that he was a feral beast, attacking him, thinking that he was dead. She’d been trying to get the full story before she acted nowadays, not wanting to put anyone in unnecessary danger ever again.

Luce happily crooned, standing on his haunches to give her a proper hug. He nudged her shoulder with his snout, then fell back onto all-fours, turning to face the confused flower.

“Hi… Riley…” He trotted outside, keeping his gait slow so as to avoid frightening her. “It me… Luce? Remember…?”

Riley blinked owlishly. She stepped back, concerned. She knew what a Deceora was; EVERYONE in Paradise probably did at this point. They were infamous for being relentless killers… but this one… just wanted to hug her.

“What… what are you?” Her petals drooped, and she looked up at Belle. “Is this like… a guard animal? Did… did you train it to attack intruders?”

Belle raised her arms in surrender. “Nope.” She chuckled bitterly, sending a glare towards Luce. “That’s my dumb little brother. Got himself turned into a Deceora.”

Riley suddenly staggered back, her eyes going wide.

“A what now?!” She looked at Luce, who whimpered. “YOU’RE A WHAT?!”

He shrugged, then started to trot closer, trying to appear small. Luckily, not many people were out at this time, having seen the other Deceoras in the area and opted to stay indoors more often lately.

Luce approached Riley, his head held low. His horns flicked downwards, and he glanced at her, a soft, nonthreatening growl pouring from his jaws.

“Don’t be… scared… won’t hurt…” He tilted his head, whimpering. He towered over the flower, so he could understand her fear. If he stood to his full height, he’d be like two of her, with the physical strength of ten. He kept his voice low, trying to avoid the growling tone. “It’s me… Luce… friend… won’t hurt you… not monster…”

Riley seemed to understand, frowning as she looked up at Luce. She recognized the pink hue of his gaze, a twinge of guilt hitting her as she saw how afraid he was… of scaring her. This couldn’t be a trick. Deceoras were smart predators, but none of them could mimic speech, at least to her knowledge. There was no doubt in her mind… that the monster before her was her friend. She hesitantly approached, reaching up to touch one of his horns.

He recoiled slightly, whimpering. His gaze was melancholy; he wasn’t in any pain anymore, but he was terrified… he didn’t want to scare anyone. Riley frowned.

“Oh… Luce… what happened to you?”

The Deceora breathed a sigh of relief, then sat on his hind legs, chuckling bitterly. He lifted his foreleg, showing the jagged scars and bite marks that still lined his arms. While the scratches and claw marks had healed significantly, the bite wound was still visible, having closed up but left a dastardly scar. It was proof of his curse. As long as it remained, Luce was sure that he’d remain a Deceora, lagoon venom coursing through his veins.

Riley shakily reached up, tracing a hand along the scars.

“... You were bitten?” She looked up to see him nod sadly. “But… that’s never happened before…”

Belle stepped up, crossing her arms.

“Maybe it has.” Luce and Riley looked at her oddly. Sighing, she elaborated, “I mean, nine times outta ten, Deceoras kill their victims and leave nothing behind, so there’s no telling what really happened…” She looked at Luce’s scars, frowning. “I’ve been thinkin’.... What if some of the victims survive, but they end up like Luce? Some of those Deceoras are smarter than they look… who’s to say they aren’t people?”

Riley thought for a moment, humming. It sounded crazy, but….

Luce huffed, his horns drooping. Riley tilted her head, thinking. If Luce could spontaneously change into a Deceora, who was to say that others couldn’t befall the same fate?

“That’s… strikingly sensible…. Most Deceora attacks happen out in the Badlands… too far out in the wilderness for a shape to find help in time…” She crossed her arms. “If one was to succumb to the venom and turn into… this… no one would ever know…”

Belle added, “The Deceora attacks have been less frequent here ever since Luce changed…. They must know that he’s still a shape at heart… they won’t turn anyone else if it’ll just give us power against ‘em…”

Luce glanced between the two, huffing. He didn’t want to think of himself as a symbol of fear at all… even to the enemy. While he was a frightening creature on the outside, he doubted he’d be able to bring himself to kill a Deceora with his own claws and teeth. Back when he could shoot blasts at a distance, it was easier to shatter something… he didn’t have to get blood on his hands.

But now… he knew deep down, the moment the shards flew, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back. As soon as blood was spilled, he’d succumb to his instincts and KILL. He’d tear it apart.

He grumbled, bristling.

“No… hurt… anyone…” His horns flicked back, and he hissed. “Not monster… won’t fight.”

Belle gave him a sympathetic glance, sighing. She reached over to pat him on the head, and he purred sadly, nuzzling her hand.

“No one said ya had to, bro. I know you don’t really wanna hurt anyone…” She frowned and looked at Riley. “He’s been real skittish lately. He wouldn’t raise a claw to anyone.”

She internally winced, thinking back to her initial reaction to his change. She’d attacked him in fear, and he sat there and took it, knowing that fighting back would result in her getting injured worse.

He was aware of his raw power, having seen Deceoras tear shapes apart. He didn’t want to become another monster. Although he had predatory instinct, he’d mellowed out slightly, knowing that if he didn’t keep his aggression in check, he’d shatter someone… most likely her.

Luce whimpered and nudged Belle in the side.

“Want… go back…. Inside…” He growled softly, on high alert. “Someone… see…”

Belle nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone else would be too keen on seeing a large Deceora just wanderin’ about…” She glanced at Riley, starting to back away towards the house. “See you later?”

The flower held up a hand in a half-hearted wave. Luce looked over his shoulder as he was lead back inside. If he squinted, he could see fear in her eyes.

~~~

Later that night…

Luce’s eyes snapped open as he heard scratching at the window. He leapt up, horns flicking back as he glanced around, his pupils shrinking despite the lack of light. A low growl had started to rumble from his core, and he found himself on edge, sensing something. He stood shakily, tossing his blanket aside as he scanned the area.

It was a few minutes shy of midnight. He grumbled slightly, a snarl threatening to rip from his throat. He was frustratingly familiar with being awoken late at night… or rather, in the darkest hours of the morning. He turned to face the window, his tail thumping against the edge of the bed, his claws digging into the sheets.

His glare met parted, serrated jaws, and he hissed, agitated by the familiar sight of another Deceora.

The pests had stopped attacking his home altogether, but they’d taken to watching him. They normally kept their distance, yet a few curious stragglers stuck around dangerously close to his dwelling, waking him with their clicking calls.

They seemed to think he was a part of the pack, if only for the fact that their venom ran through his veins...

A deep, subdued instinct in Luce’s core forced him to respond, and he, instead of ignoring the creature and going back to bed as he desired, found himself hissing quietly at it, his eyes narrowing as a warning.

It pawed at the window, inquisitive. It seemed to be a bit younger than him, small and a bit scrawny in stature. It didn’t look like it could put up much of a fight, although Luce knew better than to judge a creature by appearance. He trotted up to the window, sitting up on his haunches and pressing his face against the glass.

He could feel the cold of the night from the window. It was pleasantly chilly, just the right temperature for a nightly walk… if there were no Deceoras out… if he wasn’t a Deceora himself.

He huffed, swiping a claw at the visitor, trying to get it to leave. It tilted its head, rearing up and leaning against the windowsill, small, raspy chirps sounding from it. It didn’t seem aggressive, but it wasn’t sentient as Belle had mused earlier, either. It just wanted to play…

Luce winced, his horns flicking upward, before he sighed.

In an act of impulsive curiosity, he nudged the window open, allowing the crisp air to filter through. The young creature outside gave an almost happy series of clicks, nearly climbing inside, before Luce scrambled out, hopping out of the window. He landed with a soft thud, shuddering for a second as his body became accustomed to the chilly, fresh breeze. He purred, having missed the brisk weather dearly.

Quickly growing fond of him, the other Deceora nudged him with its muzzle, trilling. It was a similar shade of lagoon corruption… it must have thought he was a member of its pack.

His tail started wagging a bit, and he paused, looking up at the sound of approaching footfalls. He instinctively pushed the other creature behind him, letting out a huffing hiss as he glanced around.

From the shadows, another Deceora emerged… an adult. It stood tall, easily reaching the roof of the house in height, not even counting its horns. It glowered down at Luce, who staggered back, cowering a bit. He recognized the towering being’s power, and while his logical mind told him to run, his instincts forced him to stay, waiting for approval from the higher pack member.

He instantly jolted, a slightly worried trill escaping him. He looked down at his claws, his vision blurring a bit. When had he started thinking like this? He was a shape, not a Deceora. And yet… he almost… liked it out here, with the nightly beasts. He shook his head, looking back at the tall creature. The smaller one had bounded over to it, giving an affectionate purr as it approached. The large Deceora let out a deep croon, briefly embracing it before turning to face Luce.

It locked eyes with him, communicating a welcoming aura, before it turned, retreating into the forest, the tiny monster in tow. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself advancing forward, quickening his pace to keep up with the giant.

His strides were less clumsy than usual, and in his sleep-deprived, instinctive mindset, Luce didn’t think twice about following the two beasts. In that moment, he was just another Deceora, roaming through the night, hunting for sustenance.

In just minutes, Luce had slipped into the mindset of the beast.

A rapid fluttering movement piqued his attention, and he snapped his gaze towards the source, horns flicking backwards. A low growl ripped from his core, and he halted, turning around. The other two monsters slowed to a stop, the younger beast glancing over its shoulder to glance at him, curious as to why he stopped.

Luce’s predatory instincts flared up, and he stalked towards the bush where he’d seen the movement, a clicking hiss escaping from him. He heard a frightened chirp, a fanged grin spreading across his face. Whatever was there… was afraid.

He sniffed, catching the scent in the air. Avian… warm-blooded… terrified of him. He hadn’t eaten anything since that granola bar from earlier… Whatever was there would soon become his dinner.

Luce crouched, inching towards his prey. Seeming to sense his intent, the large Deceora turned, watching him, ready to interfere if something went wrong. It gazed down at him, holding the smaller creature back from interrupting.

There was a sudden rustle of grass as the hidden animal tried to flee. Luce gave a howling cry, pouncing at it. His claws closed around a small, feathered shape, and he suddenly squeaked in surprise, recognition dancing in his gaze. He tumbled through the bushes, holding the tiny bird close, his eyes squeezing shut.

He could feel a warm , viscous liquid trickling from where his talons had punctured the avian. Its panicked cries quieted to pained trills, and it vainly tried to wriggle free, only for its damaged wing to snap the wrong way.

Luce heard the bird’s dying cries, his heart racing. Its blood splattered across his mechanical eye, which he angrily tore off, shuddering. Warm, slick blood coated his flesh. He’d killed something. With his own two claws. He went cold, nearly letting out a cry as he stared down at the bird.

He recognized it… it was the bird he’d helped to rescue a year ago. Once again, he’d harmed it… this time, it would perish in his hands… in his talons.

Unable to restrain his carnivorous nature for any longer, Luce lowered his head, crunching down on the tiny avian and finishing the job, silencing his prey. It gave a last, shrill chirp, before falling silent, the light leaving its eyes as the venom worked its way through its system.

Luce stood, the bird still suspended from his jaws, its bloodied feathers slick and dripping with red. He glanced over at the other two Deceoras, his eyes wide and tearful.

He trotted over, dropping the bird at the larger beast’s feet unceremoniously. As soon as the bird fell from his jaws, he gagged, backing away and glaring at the large Deceora. It stared through him, a confused croon escaping it as it tilted its head. It failed to interpret Luce’s conflicted expression, moving aside to allow its smaller companion access to the catch. The younger monster trilled happily, wasting no time as it darted over, its jaws closing around Luce’s catch. Purring, it snapped its head to the side, tearing the bird’s wing effortlessly. It tore at the avian like a piranha, unaware of the emotional turmoil the action caused Luce.

He staggered back, a haunted look glaring over his eyes. His head hurt… his senses were overloaded. He hadn’t meant to kill the bird. Yet… he was… hungry.

His mind reeled, his rational thoughts warring with predatory instinct. He couldn’t think straight. He was overwhelmed.

Shaking his head wildly, Luce broke into a run. He was dimly aware of the Deceoras calling after him, although their clicking cries were mute in comparison to his screeching. He shrieked until his throat was raw, trying to block out his fervent senses. He could tell, even without the heart monitor, just how fast his pulse was racing. Terrified, he rushed back to the house, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry himself to sleep.

He wasn’t a real Deceora. Belle had reassured him of his sentience many times before, but after this, he was beginning to doubt his chances of ever changing back. Even if he managed to reverse his curse, would things ever go back to normal? He’d spent so long as a beast… he couldn’t imagine returning to his old self now.

He’d have to relearn how to walk, to speak, to exist as a normal shape, just because of his mistake. He’d have to reintegrate into society, have to regain the trust of his friends, of himself… He didn’t think he could handle it.

Luce came to a halt just as he reached the window, looking down at himself. His claws were caked in avian blood, and the smell was starting to agitate him, his eyes flickering between fearful pink and mindless lagoon. His head aches, and he started to sway on his feet, nausea flooding his core.

He whimpered, curling up, his tail tucked to his side as he shuddered. He licked the blood from his paws, his jaws clattering, raspy breaths leaving him as he fought his own instincts. The old scar on his foreleg suddenly ached with a phantom pain, and Luce whined, looking over his shoulder to see pink and green blood starting to drip from the aggravated wound.

His entire body screamed with agony, and the Deceora finally mastered up the strength to stand, his frame quivering.

He hesitantly approached the window, standing on his hind legs to reach. Hissing softly, he hefted himself up, attempting to scramble back inside. He only managed to succeed in knocking his arm against the wall, wincing at the loud thump that sounded, a stinging pain shooting through his shoulder, down to his wrists. The pain only increased as he attempted to scramble up the wall, his claws digging into the windowsill as his hind legs kicked vainly.

Finally, he seemed to alert Belle to his troubles, his cries echoing through the night. He heard approaching footsteps, tensing as he saw his sister rush into his room, her fists clenched with worry. She looked around, frantic, before she spotted him clinging to the window, a confused glimmer shining in her gaze.

“Luce?” She opened the window, wasting no time as she reached out and carried him inside. She held him at arm’s length, looking over him for injuries. “What were you doing out there?”

He whimpered and looked away, ashamed of himself. He refused to speak, afraid to show his bloodstained fangs.

Nonetheless, Belle caught sight of the reddish stains along the Deceora’s scaly flesh, her eye filling with a deep, paranoid fear. She nearly dropped him, her hold faltering as she stifled a gasp.

“Is that… blood?”

She set the Deceora down, crossing her arms. He averted his gaze, a shrill whine escaping him as he lowered his head. His horns were angled downwards, a clear indication of his anxious state. Something was bothering him, and it definitely had something to do with the blood.

“Luce, were you attacked?” Belle decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d incriminated him once too many times, and she couldn’t afford to lose his trust again… for him to lose his trust in himself again. “Are you alright?”

Much to her dismay, Luce just whimpered more, draping his lanky arms over his face and attempting to look small. He was panicked, his agitation only increasing as time passed. He’d done something horribly wrong, and he recognized it.

Belle sat next to him, pulling him into a sudden hug. He winced, his breaths quickening, before he abruptly pulled away, his eye going wide.

“You… hurt…” he whined. “Stay away…”

Belle sighed, holding out her hand to show the tiny, irritated scratch. Normally, Luce would have merely worried about spreading his corruption through the open wound, but only one panicked thought filled his head now. He could smell the trace amounts of blood, a deep, horrible part of himself thinking back to that bird and wishing that he’d seized the chance to devour it.

He growled lowly, and Belle tilted her head, slightly concerned.

“I got nicked working on some parts… no biggie.” She narrowed her eyes, suspecting a deeper meaning behind the Deceora’s worry. “Why?”

That simple question seemed to set him off, and he suddenly shrieked, unable to handle his own emotions. He ended up rolling right off the bed, scrambling to try and right himself. His limbs felt heavy… foreign…. It shocked him to think that he’d gotten used to his new form, but right now, he could barely move.

Everything felt… weighted. He wanted to go back outside.

He refused to look at Belle, his eyes welling up with tears.

“I…” He hesitated. What would Belle think? Would she finally see him as a monster?

His mind swam with frantic thoughts, and he curled up, his eyes flickering between lagoon and pink. Belle took notice of the ocular change, her voice filling with worry as she reached out, only to be responded to with an aggressive hiss.

Luce arched up, his eyes wild with agitation. It was getting difficult to think properly, especially in this… limited space. He wanted to run, but between the bed and the walls, he could barely maneuver. It was quickly becoming clear… a monster like him wasn’t meant to coexist with shapes.

He wanted… to be free.

Shaking his head, he acted on the impulse, leaping for the window. He heard Belle yell after him, yet he forced himself to ignore her, bracing himself as the glass shattered. His scaly flesh deflected most of the glass, although he couldn’t help but hiss in pain as he hit the ground, shards of glass falling around him. He didn’t waste a second to leap to his feet, briefly shaking himself before he broke into a run.

He couldn’t stay here… not after what he did. He couldn’t endanger his sister.

Shocked, Belle climbed out, rushing after him. Her panicked yells rang out through the night, and Luce felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes again.

He glanced over his shoulder, screeching at her, trying vainly to get her to stop following him.

“Luce, what are you doing?!” Belle started to fall behind. She was athletic enough, but she just wasn’t built for such a sprint, at least not a long-distance one. “Luce, come back! Luce!”

The Deceora paused briefly, turning to face her. He arched up, his eyes flaring with corruption, before he let out a threatening roar, his horns angled backwards. His jaw hung open, dripping with venom. His heart was racing.

“Stay away!” His words dissolved into hisses, and he screamed, “DANGEROUS!”

Belle finally seemed to falter, taking a shaky step back. Her eye filled with fear, and Luce could almost sense what she was thinking of… a feral Deceora.

It hurt to scare her like this… it hurt to yell at his sister, but he had to, if only to get her to leave him alone and forget. He gave an almost rabid snarl, swiping at her. He was dangerous, and she had to see it.

“Luce… bro…”

Before Belle could get another word in, Luce cut her off with an angered hiss. Without further hesitance, he turned and ran, hoping that he wouldn’t be followed. He wanted to believe that he’d never harm her, that the incident with the bird was a fluke, but he couldn’t trust himself. He kept running, forcing himself to race through the forest as his muscles burned in protest.

“I’m… sorry…” he wheezed. “Too dangerous…”

He didn’t stop until he could no longer hear Belle’s footsteps, could no longer detect her scent in the air. He collapsed in the middle of the wilderness, sure that he must’ve travelled all the way to the Badlands with how far he’d run.

Luce’s heart ached, even more so than his body. His mind reeled, and he found himself curling up and sobbing, fighting to catch a breath as he wailed. He was vaguely aware of the inquisitive, familiar chirp that sounded near him.

The small Deceora from earlier trotted over to him, nuzzling up to his side in an attempt to provide comfort. He didn’t protest this time, having resigned himself with his fate. Whimpering pitifully, he returned the embrace, a clicking hiss escaping him as he did so.

The younger creature purred sadly, seeming to sense his despair.

Luce could barely breathe, but he didn’t dare move, afraid to lose his only companion. His eyes slid shut, and he drifted off, feeling his will to return to normal dwindling to nothing.

The chances of him ever reversing his curse were slim to none. No matter what Belle had tried, he’d remained a Deceora. He sighed, although as he took in the crisp, chilly air, he found his despair being replaced with something else.

A curious anticipation… for his new life.

~~~

Weeks later, Belle was still searching for her brother. The only sign of him had been an avian corpse, a familiar little bluebird that had once been fondly referred to as, “Luce Junior.”

The bird was mauled by a Deceora. Belle knew her brother was to blame.

Her hopes died that day, and from then on, when clients of the workshop asked where he was, she replied with a sad sigh, a haunted look in her eye, “I don’t have a brother. Luce is dead.”

She saw a familiar Deceora sometimes, in the odd hours of night. It was smaller than the others, with dark, thoughtful pink eyes. Its wounds had healed. It had let go of the past. Sometimes, it looked at her, and Belle got a rush of familiarity, almost wanting to speak to it.

She didn’t dare approach, for she knew what it was capable of. It didn’t matter who it had once been; it was a Deceora, and it was dangerous. It was fond of her, nonetheless, and Belle often caught the creature watching her from afar, protecting her from a distance.

But it never stuck around. Belle knew deep down… it was afraid of becoming attached.

#jsab #Just shapes and beats #belle #Other people's OCs #luce #new game #Oh Look a Story Thing #deceora #au #jsab au #steampunk au #oops all angst #gift #riley #oc #fc #fan character

12 notes · View notes

qwertythepopstarian08 · 6 years ago

Text

Feeling Blue, Part 3

The long-awaited third chapter of Feeling Blue.

This was one of my favorite parts of the story... it introduces a new character!

I won’t tell much because this chapter is packed with surprises, but... not much action. It was a bit hard to write for two reasons: The askblog and the overall exposition of this part.

But, it’s done, and I’m excited for what lies in store! I’m planning for this story to have about five to six chapters, and the next chapter will be pretty long! So hold on, we’re not nearly done yet! Enjoy!

Description: Fresh has been gone for days. Meanwhile, Cyan has their own issues to work out.

Description: The calm before the storm, before everything comes to a head.

Cyan stared out the window, watching the rain fall with a bored expression. They were pretty much infamous for their restless demeanor, often finding little amusement in the mundane.

Ever since the Treeangle Incident, normal problems tended to tire them, and they often sought more intense issues to solve. They were a “hero,” after all.

So, when a mysterious new shape showed up, begging for their help, they’d initially been ecstatic to help, if only to find something to do. They’d expected to have to fight a monster, or perhaps rescue a lost shape. Maybe the task would involve a big bad boss…

Prior to meeting with the strange shape, Cyan had pictured a multitude of possible missions.

Sitting in a cafe, listening to an eccentric researcher’s rants, however, were not part of those missions. The odd, violet shape had appeared out of the blue. She called herself, “Composer,” claiming to be a music note, supposedly one of the most powerful types of shapes. If Cyan thought back far enough, they could faintly recall reading about shape power in the distant past, when they’d been more inquisitive, and they’d never read about any music notes.

In terms of power, polygons such as squares and triangles were the strongest. Rounded figures, like circles, typically fell in the middle. Lastly, organic shapes and silhouettes were the weakest, only having access to a few powers, if any.

So, Cyan severely doubted Composer’s credibility.

The heroic square’s attention was piqued, nonetheless, when the purple note brought up the topic of a “pink menace.” Now that was their kind of quest. A tiny, tentative smile quirked at their features, although one factor bothered them deeply.

Careless about how rude they were being, the square cut off Composer mid-sentence, their tone lilting with curiosity.

“Hold up… what was that about pinks?” They tried to keep the nervousness out of their voice as they added, “Those aren’t a problem now, right?”

Composer eyed them oddly, and for a moment, Cyan was afraid that she’d scold them for their ignorance. They were the so-called hero of Paradise, after all; it was kind of expected for them to know about potential threats.

Much to the square’s shock, the music note only smirked, seemingly satisfied with her superior knowledge. Or perhaps, she just wanted the excuse to keep talking, influencing her audience with her opinions.

Regardless of the reason, her smile sent a chill up Cyan’s spine, and they fidgeted under her gaze, taking a shaky sip of their hot chocolate. The rich drink was ice cold by now, but the square took a sip every few minutes, if only to please the shape who’d paid for it.

“I thought that would wake you up.” Composer’s voice was cool, controlled. She had command over the conversation, and she seemed to know it. She reached into her portfolio, retrieving a plain-looking pamphlet. “I had a mission in mind, an objective that I assumed you could tackle quite well. This should explain it well enough.”

Cyan reluctantly accepted the booklet, beads of glowing sweat sliding down their face. Their unease was betrayed by the shake of their hands as they turned the brochure around, staring at the covers.

It was unassumingly simple, a plain grey pamphlet with pinkish accents. The title revealed little to nothing of the leaflet’s contents, which Cyan was honestly afraid to discover.

“Guide to Hue,” they read aloud. Their eyes briefly darted up to glance at Composer. She kept smiling, smug. “A cohesive enchiridion on the subject of natural light, beat magic, and the Treeangle.”

They internally sighed; this would take awhile to digest. As a shape with a fast-paced life, the square seldom bothered with the minute details of things. But with the way Composer was eying them, they felt obligated to at least try to understand.

Cyan flipped through the booklet, skimming through the paragraphs. They felt their boredom increase as they came across several large, complicated phrases, words that made them stop to think, to dredge up whatever education they may have received at some point.

It didn’t help that they couldn’t recall much from their past. Before the famous Treeangle Incident, the heroic shape had been a fairly nomadic being. Surely they’d, at one point, been a normal shape, with a mortal existence, until they had been shattered.

Their old life vanished from memory, and because of their tendency to move from place to place, no one knew them well enough to remind them of their original self. Spontaneously resurrected by the light of the sacred structure itself, they chose to stay in Paradise to watch over it, like an odd, symbiotic guardian.

Cyan’s mind wandered, lost in thought, and they eventually lost focus on what they were reading.

It wasn’t until they came across a paragraph that caught their eye that they snapped out of their musings. They silently read, “The tint of magenta was banished from the rainbow centuries ago. Feared for its deadly power and inherent aggression, the power was expelled, and the pink color of Paradise began to die out…”

Cyan looked up at Composer. Seemingly bored of watching them read, the music note had turned her attention to the actions of the other restaurant patrons, watching them with a scrutinizing eye.

The square followed her gaze to where two shapes sat, near the front of the cafe. They recognized one of the shapes as Lycan, instantly able to tell by their spiky, pink fur and loud, boisterous tone. Lycan was accompanied by their sister, Wolfie, a greenish, mild-mannered blossom who worked at the same event venue as Fresh.

Shockingly, Lycanthropy didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong. They were seemingly content, and judging from the lack of lava, that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

Composer’s smile twitched as she eyed the two shapes, her gaze flickering with a peculiar glimmer. “Such a shame.” She subtly gestured towards the blossom pair. “Even the unassuming blossoms can be twisted into absolute monsters.”

Cyan raised an eyebrow, puzzled. They voiced their confusion, “Lycan? A monster?” A slight smile quirked their features as they shook their head. Sure, the blossom could be erratic, maybe even violent, but they weren’t evil in the slightest. “I think you’re confusing them with another flower? Lycan’s not the only corrupted one…”

At that, Composer turned back to face the square, her smirk completely dropping. She took a sip of her coffee, a judgemental glare landing on the other shape, making a chill go down their spine.

“All corruption is evil.” Her voice was venomous. “It may not be obvious at first glance, but the potent nature of the corruption’s hue only makes it worse, makes it spread.”

“They may still be pink, but they’re not a bad person.”

“You misunderstand. Pink is inherently volatile.”

It was at this point that Cyan felt their anxiety skyrocket. They frowned, shaking their head in strong disagreement. They stood, collecting their things in preparation to leave.

“Actually, I feel like you’re the one misunderstanding things.” They gestured at Lycan, huffing. “Pink may be a bit scary, and I get where you’re coming from, but…”

The heroic square’s hackles rose with their anger. Frustrated sparks jumped from their form, which Composer stared at, her mouth agape in a small, “o.”

Cyan finally found the words to convey their irritation, their voice going shrill for a moment as they growled, “The danger is gone. Magenta, pink, rose, whatever you want to call it. It’s okay, Composer. No one’s evil anymore.”

Composer stared at the frustrated square for a long time, her expression blank. Her violet gaze bored into the hero, nonetheless, and her mouth slowly curved into a tiny, almost disappointed frown.

She finally let out a small sigh, looking out the window with that same, empty stare.

“I am… discontented… with your failure to understand my plight.” Her tone dropped to a condescending hum as she continued, “I should have realized that such an altruistic shape would become biased.” She then smirked, briefly turning to lock eyes with the other shape. “Although, I imagine it must be hard for a shape who was shattered to remain this way.”

Cyan staggered away from the little booth, their expression set into a grimace. Their eyes were wide and almost teary, and the sparks around their form began to intensify in severity. Crestfallen, the blue square found themselves unable to process Composer’s words, the pamphlet clutched in their grasp in a vice grip.

Backing away, Cyan added one last time, “You’re wrong, Composer.” Their tone was resolute. “The corruption is gone.”

With that, the heroic shape left the restaurant. They didn’t even stop to look back as they heard Composer chuckle, nor did they wave at Lycan when they passed. Their mind swam with conflict and anger, bitter feelings that they struggled to subdue.

Opening the door, they halted for a mere moment before breaking into a dash, sparks of blue energy buzzing around their form. They were nothing more than a blur in the dull morning sky, shining brighter than the sun as they rocketed through the air.

Normally, their dash was their favorite ability. They didn’t need wings to buzz through the air. They could just take off, propelled by beat magic. Cyan may not have had much power in terms of offense, but when they dashed, they were invincible.

Quite literally, they might add. For some, miraculous reason, the square’s dash ability was able to zip straight through solid matter, but only for a few seconds. It had saved them quite a few times during some harder fights, when the attacks became too overwhelming to weave through normally.

Right now, however, Cyan wished they could dash to escape their emotions. They clenched their fist, further ruining the pamphlet that Composer had provided them. They didn’t even want to read the blighted packet, afraid to find more of her ludicrous drabble inside. The music note was insane if she thought pink was still bad.

To Cyan’s knowledge, much of the “curse” surrounding pink in the first place had been lifted when they purified the Treeangle. It was still potent, still aggressive, but it was no longer corruptive and evil.

Some blossoms even started popping up naturally pink. It was more of a pastel rose, but pink nonetheless. This solidified the fact that magenta was part of the Treeangle’s light once again, at least in some capacity.

Cyan squeezed their eyes shut as they flew, angrily wiping tears from their eyes. They could get so worked up over this stuff, it irked them to no end. It wasn’t their fault that they were sensitive, but no matter how they tried, bad situations typically left them in tears… and yelling. Which wasn’t exactly a shock, given that they spent most of their time with Blue.

In their blind flight, Cyan didn’t even notice as another shape flew right into their path. Unable to see where they were going, they collided right with the other shape. A startled scream rang out, both shapes panicking.

Cyan’s eyes snapped open, and they flailed, their dash halting midway through. Backing away, they tried to identify who they’d run into, indecisive over whether they should yell or apologize.

However, as they surveyed the other flustered shape, it became clear that this wasn’t someone they were familiar with. For a moment, they thought it was that pest, Fresh, but the stark contrast in hue was enough to dissuade the association.

The overall build was similar, but this strange being was peaceful blue, for one thing. Like Fresh, he had catlike ears, although they drooped with anxiety, twitching intermittently. He stared at Cyan with a single, teary eye, his expression quivering as if he was trying not to cry. And instead of the vest and spiked collar that the pink menace loved, this frightened shape was wearing a simple, soft blue hoodie.

Awkward, Cyan choked out an apology. “Oh… s-sorry. I, um… didn’t see you there.” The newcomer jolted at their words, then averted his gaze, crossing his arms. Cyan hurriedly added, “I don’t think we’ve met. Sorry if this wasn’t the best first impression… I’m Cyan.”

They held out a hand to shake, uncaring of the fact that the both of them were currently suspended about fifty feet in the air. It was never too late to make a good impression. Most of Cyan’s best friends had been made in the heat of battle, or rescued from a chaotic situation. In those moments, the very extremes of their personalities had been on display, yet they were a tight group to this day.

However, the nervous Fresh lookalike didn’t seem particularly keen on making friends. He forced himself to accept Cyan’s hand, using his other hand to wipe away his tears. In terms of personality, the shape was nothing like Fresh at all. Instead of impulsive and rude, the newcomer was timid and fearful, his gaze darting around as if something was out to get him.

“M-my name is…” He hesitated, almost thoughtful. He caught sight of his own arm, his gaze lingering on the blue glow. Shaking his head, he looked back to Cyan, then continued with more confidence, “My name is Chill.”

Cyan nodded happily, glad that the mystery shape was opening up a bit. They laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood, looking around.

“So, are you new to Paradise?” They started to descend, beckoning the new shape to follow. “I mean, you didn’t know me, and I’m pretty famous around here, not to brag.”

He perked up, quickening his pace, although he still seemed a bit shaken up, wobbling in the air. Levitation of any capacity wasn’t that uncommon, but not many shapes could keep it up outside of a battle. Chill touched down softly, eying the grass. Cyan lingered in the air, floating in lazy circles around the other shape.

They repeated their question, “Did you just move here or something?” Something about Chill seemed familiar, yet strange, like a sense of Deja Vu.

“No. I just… don’t get out much.” A brief shudder went down Chill’s spine, and he added, “I don’t get why you call this place, “Paradise.” It’s more of a, well, I don’t know… “Para-DANGER.””

The heroic square chuckled at the pun, floating ahead of Chill by a few feet. Forget his earlier apprehension; anyone who made jokes like that couldn’t be up to anything bad.

“Yeah, but at least pink isn’t the danger anymore. It’s… kinda a big deal, saving the lost color of the rainbow.” Cyan’s tone briefly took on a boastful tone, and they hummed in musing. “Like I said, I’m a big hero here.”

Chill’s expression briefly twitched. His smile dropped for a second, and he tried to change the subject.

“Hey, what’cha got there?” He was pointing at something. Cyan followed his gaze to the pamphlet in their hand, which was crumpled beyond repair.

Holding up the ruined booklet, the square hummed, “Oh, this?” They grimaced as they spied the cover title again, tossing it aside with a groan. “Just some “enchiridion of hue” nonsense. No big deal, unlike me.”

Despite the distasteful description, Chill seemed interested. He rushed to catch the booklet, dashing back up to meet Cyan.

“Why would you just throw that away? I.. I’ve been, um… researching hue… this could be a lifesaver!”

Cyan scowled, rolling their eyes. “I doubt it.” They began to tire of the conversation, listlessly floating in circles, watching blue sparks trail behind themselves. “That thing had more than fact to say about pink shapes in particular. It’s probably just some opinionated drivel.”

Chill shook his head, a glimmer of desperation clear in his gaze. He flipped through the packet, eye growing wide with wonder. He dashed to catch up with Cyan, who had begun to depart, catching them by the arm.

On reflex, they jerked away, glaring at Chill with a threatening leer. He winced, shrinking back. His eyes widened, and he smiled nervously.

“Do… do you know who wrote this?” He held up the pamphlet. “This could really help me, please. I need some info, Cyan.”

His tone sounded despaired, and if Cyan squinted, they could see the other shape’s glow lessen. Cyan didn’t want any shape to have to listen to Composer, but… this guy seemed so upset already. It didn’t seem like even Composer’s words could worsen his mood.

Relenting, the square sighed, turning back to face Chill.

“Alright, see that little cafe?” They pointed towards the building they’d just left, their tone bored. Chill seemed engaged, however, his eye lighting up with hope. “I just left there. The lady who wrote this junk is probably still there. Just look for a purple music note.”

Chill exploded with happiness. He began to glow brightly, like a cerulean spotlight. Cyan had to shield their eyes as the other shape rushed forth.

“Thank you!” He pulled Cyan into a sudden hug, the little square giving a shrill squeak as their bones were nearly crushed. They tried to dash away, until they recalled their inability to go through other blue shapes, letting out a defeated sigh and reluctantly returning the embrace.

Chill let them go as soon as they did, however, already moving on to the restaurant. “Thanks a million, little dude! You’re a real hero!”

With that, he broke into a mad dash, elated. His relieved laughter echoed through the sky like a bell, filled with absolute joy.

Cyan lingered, watching him go. A small smile worked its way upon their features, and they turned to leave. However, one notion still didn’t leave them. That Deja Vu remained, prodding at their thoughts.

The longer they heard that laughter, a dim, fearful recollection swelled in their mind, inundating them with paranoid anxiety. Flashes of wide, pink eyes assaulted their memory, and they shook their head, frowning slightly.

The physical similarities could be dismissed as a coincidence. Lots of shapes looked the same; that was simple geometry. While Cyan had never seen another shape quite like Fresh, it was surely possible that there were others of his species.

But… that laughter.

That laughter was unmistakable, unforgettable. It had drilled itself into their memory, into their nightmares. Although Chill was nothing like Fresh, his voice…

It sounded exactly the same.

Hundreds of threatening notions rushed through Cyan’s mind. They hadn’t seen or heard from Fresh in days, and to their knowledge, he’d had a falling out with Blue prior to his vanishing. Blue refused to give details, but the look on their face when speaking of him hinted at a bigger problem.

Fear won over, and Cyan darted away, intent on warning the others. Fresh was no longer a villain, but if something was wrong with him, Cyan feared that it would spread like corruption.

#just shapes and beats #jsab #cyan #composer #fresh #fanfic #chill #Chill Out AU #part 3 #Oh Look a Story Thing #lycanthropy #wolfie #blue #oc #fc #fan character

8 notes · View notes