#patchwork divinity labs

[noir-drabbles]

Dyrage 1

Summary: Long has Dyrage split off his attachments to the face you wore. As long as he is here, it must be kept that way. His job, at the current moment, is just to question you, to see if you have memories other than the one you have consumed.

(Ooof, been a while huh? Anyways, no clue if I want to make this character canon or not, but he's been on the brain so I wrote about him anyway. And also because these are literally my little brain creations, I can make anything or nothing canon as I wish. So... yeah!)

And in all your gross and pulsating meaty mass, you closed the distance, getting right into his face with the one that haunts his dreams. This part was human, but that's about as far as it goes. Only skin deep.

And yet, there was something in Dyrage that just… hopes that there was something else in there, that you didn't just copy the genetic and memorial make up of a person. That, somehow or another, you were the soul who's face you were. And that, if it's true, then surely there should be more. You were cut off from a bigger mass, from a red deeply red moss that grew on that divine tree.

A tree that made itself a forest out of Dyrage's own home.

"Does Serenity Hill seem familiar to you in any way."

All of this could've been done behind glass or even thousands of feet above, Dyrage knows that, but he, to an extent, also knows this creature. He knows you, and he knows that you have a particular diet. Or, rather, you know what it is he white coats want.

Stubborn. So stubborn that you would rather eat foods that disgust you. You're starving yourself and you don't care.

Dyrage want to pretend he doesn't know why he tries, but he hates lying to himself. Delusions were a color he'd much rather leave far behind him.

You tilted your head then leaned back, the membranes above his head twitching and turning with your every thought.

"Serenity Hill…" you reached both hands high above you, as though you were reaching up for the sun you're never allowed to see, "The village of white peaches and stagnation. The flavor was always stale upon the tongue, no matter how much effort was poured into the yield. And the texture… it was like biting into a ball of moss."

…The face that you wear and the voice that you speak with. He can't speak of purity, he can't say anything about tarnishing, but he wishes you were nothing more than a monstrosity. Back to that flesh being that was simply that, inhuman flesh in a tube. At least then you wouldn't be able to extract things from his most precious memories.

You speak of his home, of those white peaches as though you were actually there.

But that is all he can do. His thoughts are his alone. He can throw any number of insults within and not worry of what will happen outside.

"And where does this memory originate from?" Dyrage had to grip his pen just so nothing shows on his face. The things he has seen and done, he can't falter. He won't falter.

Your torso twisted around with rubber elasticity. You bowed and were back in front of his face once more.

"You should know well where the memory comes from," Bored. Dyrage allowed himself to entertain your request and already you were getting bored of him. Of course. Of course! "I didn't know you to be one to ask redundant questions. Is there something you're hoping for?"

"It's all standard procedure."

"Liar."

"Simply answer the question and I won't lie to you anymore."

"Hmm," you eased back and settled into the wall of flesh that consumes half the room, as though reclining on a sofa, "Well, it's not as though I truly hate lies."

Dyrage knows that. That man, your pet as he's been called, is still alive to this day. Resting from the strain of fusing a strand of yourself into his spine, but resting and alive nonetheless. He remembers the recordings, about how he was fine and that he’ll be back shortly.

That man, Ash, was also full of lies. No matter the face, no matter the authority, he will lie to them if it means he will not be thought about. Like he wants to disappear and not matter to anyone.

"Don't lie anymore for today," you said with a smile that simply didn't belong, "Tomorrow you can lie as much as you like. I want to see them all one day. There's only so many one can wrap themselves around in before they're nothing more than a suffocating bug."

"The question. I’m still waiting for an answer."

"From this one," you pointed to your face, "Serenity Hill comes from the memories of this one. Nothing more, nothing less."

"…are you sure? Nothing beyond… this?"

Was there truly nothing? Nothing within that collective memory? Nothing from when you were nothing more than a part of a red mass nesting in the bark groves? Was your head truly that empty of anything?

"Nothing beyond, you weird little seeker you. I don't hold any other origin point to draw from. I only have one well. A well that I can peek into to gather all your secrets. Though… well, that doesn't matter now does it? My words hold no power to anyone besides you."

Because you are a,

"Monster. You are right to know your position here. Your awareness makes you all the more precious. And as precious of a being you are, you will be kept safe in mind, body and soul."

A soul that belongs to no one else but you. A soul that Dyrage will not recognize. A soul with no hope in it.

"And for that safety, I'm glad," you snuggled in deeper, smiling wider, "surely this status will apply to my extensions, to my other precious limbs?"

To that man. To one who named himself Ash.

"Of course, we can't very well afford to lose such precious things."

"Who's to say what would happen if they were cut from me. I can't very well control the muscle memory within if that were to happen. After all, my priorities have evolved past instincts, but that's not to say they don't exist anymore."

There is a base and it must not be forgotten. Dyrage will never forget the bloody pedestal you built yourself upon. Your interests are odd, but your instincts remain.

"I will keep that in mind."

But such threats have never held power over him anyway. If you don’t have even a single secret regarding your true origins, about that white tree that has sprouted and laid its roots over the roofs and soil of his homeland, then you held little power.

Your words mean nothing. They have to mean nothing. They must continue to mean nothing.

[oneandahalfwolf]

MUSE;

scruffy werewolf (self)

pale bean pole (fc)

a change of face (alt fc)

grey eyed beast (wolf)

yellow eyed monster (werewolf)

paw prints in snow (aesthetic)

it’s little and broken but still good (pack)

the woven strings of fate that bind them (reincarnation)

HOUSEKEEPING;

shedding fur (ooc)

sit and tinker (self made)

golden treasure (gift)

shine in the moonlight (promo)

scattered papers everywhere (drabble)

myths and legend (headcanon)

start a new story (threads)

bored puppy (memes)

amused puppy (tagged memes)

PEOPLE;

tiny mage (ileyra)

brown haired beauty (iley fc)

red string of fate (soulmates)

black eyes black heart (void)

a body all his own (void fc) 

magical biological baby (ashley)

blonde and freckled (ash fc)

red and blue make violet (family unit)

mothers and fathers (parents)

devilish rogue (orianna)

smiles and smirks (ori fc)

puppet mistress (the queen)

painted evil smile (queen fc)

cruel tyrant (the king)

taunting dark sneer (king fc)

mother time (missy)

icy blue eyes (missy fc)

missy's tardis (vesta)

android tardis (vesta fc) 

enemy to sibling pipeline (torcarya)

scaly bard (wynfor)

VERSES;

swords and shield (main canon)

collared and heartless (canon divergence; bad ending)

skateboards and starbucks (human)

the life that started it all (the first incarnation)

we could go anywhere (on the road au)

bitten but immune (zombie apocalypse au)

guardian of graves (divine au)

not a name just a number (lab rat au)

living with ghosts (paranormal au)

skulls and forges (demigod au)

sea puppy (deep blue au)

heavenly warrior (angel reborn au; royal variant)

winged guardian (angel reborn au; modern variant)

her patchwork puppy (chilling adventures au)

the left hand (crime au)

drummer pupper (band au)

full moon siblings (werewolf au)

lights camera action (in the movies au)

two shades of scales (dragon au)

classes and homework (high school au)

demon student (creature school au)

masked wolf (superhero au)

winter is spring's eternal (seasonal au)

silver moon wolf (sun and moon au)

live and learn (life and death au)

pony express mutt (wild west au)

the streets are our home (homeless au)

tech wolf (musical theatre au)

tik tok goes the pup (clockwork au)

inky lines (tattooist and florist au)

we are void (venom au)

firefighting pup (emergency services au)

an act of kindness gone wrong (selkie au)

oblivious pup (werewolf hunter au)

gallifreyan wolf (time lord au)

double double agent (spy au)

the snake's pet wolf (war on toril au)

do you want to talk about dinosaurs (random number au)

vesta's secret puppy (little traveller au)

ori's secret puppy (little rogue au)

star child and her wolf brother (adopted time tot au)

first successful test subject (gallifreyan lab doctors au)

an imperfect father is better than none (papa wolf au)

lady luna's emissary (temple guardian au) 

best and brightest (child soldiers au)

the fox fae and the wolf witch (fox and found au)

broken speedster (villain adopts hero au)

[noir-drabbles]

Ash 4

Summary: You have long since fused a piece of yourself into his spine. Forever will a part of you be with him. However, the effects on him have been... uncomfortable.

(Hehehehe Ash suffering here we go! I'm fascinated by the idea of him having a piece of the monster reader just, there in his spine, doing who knows what to him. I think that would be fun, Ash having an extension of sorts right up in there. But now I'm just wondering if I should make this doctor character a, you know, an actual character.)

Ash has not once felt any amount of pain. The only thing he could feel right now was this emanating heat right from every dip and curve in his spine. It didn't bother him in the same way heat flashes would, but it made him… nervous. Uncomfortable. He didn't want anyone touching that place but what he wants mattered little to anyone else other than you.

A cold, gloved finger touched the base of his neck, then traced down the skin along his spine. Ash bit down on his sleeve, curling inwards as though that'll do anything to make it stop. Again, it wasn't pain. It was simply… uncomfortable. Like touching a scar that was much too deep and too close to your bone.

It wasn't bad, but calling it good was just… weird, but that's what it was. It felt… good. And Ash hated it.

"How does it feel?" He heard the white coat ask, voice softer than what Ash's used to, but that's been the pattern lately. A bunch of softer and kinder voices simply because he has a new and interesting use. "Any pain? Any problems right there? Changes to routine even?"

"Just, heat," A lot of heat. It's been hitting the backs of his lungs and made breathing weird. "Lot of it. No pain. It just feels weird. More weird than usual."

"Increased sensitivity then," the doctor mused than decided to pinch just as Ash was relaxing. He couldn't help the moan that was strangled out of him, "A pleasurable sensitivity at that."

Ash curled in further, his stomach churning, then dropped into the abyss altogether when he heard the lightest of laughter from the doctor.

Laughter meant amusement, joy at his expense. It will be made a memory, then will be spread over a coffee break. Others will know, and they will get curious. They'll poke at his spine when they think he's not looking. They'll make him do those noises again.

And what can he do about it? Nothing. Because he's a useless man that has nothing to his non-existent name. All he can do is stay curled up as he always does, the wounded animal he always felt he was.

Another, lighter pinch was given at the very base of his back. Ash curled his toes, but was almost proud that he managed to stay silent. He was panting behind his hand, sure, but being a silent shriveling mess was better than being a moaning one.

Alright, alright. Calm down, think of something other than that damn pinching. Get his mind away from the deep pulsing pleasure from his spine and gut.

He needs to know.

Ash gulped out, "Will this go away?"

He can't tell this doctor to stop. For all he knows, this could be all a play for this doc's sadistic pleasure and data collection all in one. If Ash challenges that nasty combo, he knows the punishment will be worse. Ash can no longer be thrown away, so death will not be end result. He's not allowed to die.

Not so long as traces of you remain in his spine. A damn curse on one hand, but you're the closest thing he has to a friend. What can he do besides let you do what you like? It's nice, seeing you happy, even if the attention will lead to more of the same torture.

“Hmm, perhaps it will, perhaps it won’t,” the doctor finally stopped his pinching, settling for a simple pat just under his neck, “personally, I’d prefer if it never went away. It’s rather fascinating, you know. As much as I’m curious to see all these contained creatures up close, I know very well I’m safest here.”

So, by all means, continue suffering for my sake.

And, as though he couldn’t do it himself–he couldn’t, he had to be walked here by one of the workers–the doctor tied his gown back up. Finally, his bare back was hidden. But now clothes were starting to feel itchy.

“Alright, we’re done here,” the man got up and knocked on the door, “I hope to see you again soon.”

[noir-drabbles]

The White Beast 1

Summary: With you laying a piece of yourself within his spine, Ash was lead to the containment unit where the White Beast lived.

(He be a very soft yandere, the White Beast.)

There was a shifting, like a bug scuttling it's scratchy legs over his skin, right over his spine. Ash shuddered with no disgust to be found. It was simply... Well, not uncomfortable, but more out of familiarity. Like when Ash settled into his cot for the first time since he's been put in your chamber.

"Im not making you uncomfortable, am I?" There wasn't a physical voice, more like a thought being gently laid over his own head. It was distinct enough in voice to separate it from his own. This sentence alone assures him you don't glean his thoughts.

"If you'd stop shifting, it'd make my skin itch less." Ash is really trying his best not to scratch. It's not a suspicious motion but still. Better to be safe than sorry.

The door slid open and Ash walked through before he could be pushed in. His foot met with lush greenery.

There's no glass to peek into this room. From artificially filtered air to a humid, almost holy garden. The silence did little to dull the shine of the flowers and grass taking root in the ground.

Towards the middle, hunched over a sapling with gold embedded in its bark, was the White Beast himself. Four hands cradled the little tree, white claws carefully feeling each leaf, as though afraid of pricking them. Bone white horns with bark like grooves sprouted over long fuzzy ears. His hair was practically a mane, coiled in messy, uncut curls as they trail down to cover his large body of muscle. The blue veins seen beneath his paper white skin of his neck trailed down his chest, and disappeared under a layer of delicate white fur.

The being looked up with gold, almost sleepy eyes, towering high above him, and tilted his head. The White Beast let go of the sapling just as it's trunk pulsed and unraveled. A shell, to protect the vulnerable plant inside. The White Beast smiled, but Ash knew it wasn't at him.

"Is..." His blood shivered, but his spine stayed steady. He can feel you listening. "... It... Pretty?"

Only then did Ash feel you move. You forced his head to nod as you spoke through him, tongue flicking against his will. "A most wondrous garden. Did you cared for it so, just to welcome me?"

There was a childish shine to the way the White Beast lit up. "A... Paradise... Right?"

It felt so weird, feeling the air move through his throat, the rumble in his chest when he wasn't in command. But Ash trusts you. Deeply so. He can't find it in himself to panic.

"Paradise is bigger. But, this is a start." It's a fine room to sleep him, but a place this small will never be more than a playpen. You can't make a paradise in a place like this.

"I'll..." The White Beast shuffled closer, arms by Ash's feet. He does not touch him. Merely watches, enraptured. "... Make... It... Better."

"I can't wait for the day." How strange, this feeling of thoughts and feelings aligning, a cooperation over the movement of his tongue.

[noir-drabbles]

The White Beast 2

Summary: The White Beast breaks out of his containment to visit you, blessing not the ground but a guard that attempt to place him back in.

(body horror folks, for a brief moment.)

The walls here were nothing more than a part of this world. They can’t keep him in, for they were made from materials of the earth. And the earth always welcomes him. They don’t wish to keep him away. They don’t wish to put him in a small space where he can suffocate.

It’s why he stays here. There’s no reason to fight. For he is home, no matter where he goes.

But, The White Beast wishes to visit you, oh pitiable friend who rejects the sun and earth, who’s flesh will wither because you cannot withstand it’s beauty. But the humming tone of the dirt buried below wishes to welcome you. The sky outside his view wishes to see you.

As does he.

So he exited his room. He wished to see his friend. He may not remember anything, but the wind, carried from the outside, tells him many things, as garbled as the words may be. You know him. And he once knew you. Perhaps, one day, you’ll bring him his memories?

The words of the humans out the door, donned in black rather than the blue of his other visitors, stood spread out. They keep a distance, hands carrying something that he knows hurts. They do not shiver. Nor do they breathe. They are waiting.

The White Beast smiles and bends down. One of the humans put down their weapon and approached.

“…back to…” They were speaking, muffled by their mask, words falling too fast for him to understand. He can understand you perfectly, and yet not with others. He doesn’t know why.

Their hand felt nice on his face. He will give them a gift. He gently moved it off and planted a kiss right on the mask.

The glass cracked and parted. A most beautiful tree was born from their spine, their roots strong and never to part from it’s place here. Forever will this human be swimming in bliss. Look, there's a beautiful smile right on the trunk of it.

Will this be enough for him to visit his friend? The White Beast thinks so, for everyone else is walking backwards.

“Thank…you…” he must always express his gratitude, for they were letting him through.

Now, he can finally see you.

[noir-drabbles]

Ash 1

Summary: You’re…odd to him. He expected to be eaten, and yet here he is, laying against your fleshy form.

(he a tired man. Tired tired dilf man)

Ash twitched awake, stirred to consciousness by your arm stroking his face. He breathed in the cold and sterile air before his lungs seized and coughed right into his arm. Mucus made them sound wet. His skin jumped and shivered, but he’s unable to tell what the cause of it was. A sickness? Your touch?

Well, not that it matters.

“Your lungs,” you whispered out, the top half of your human form blooming from the red flesh clinging to the wall as though a spider’s web, “They sent you to me sick.”

Ash still can’t get used to it, identifying you with a human face. Especially the face of a scientist he once recognize but who’s name he can’t remember. Though, even if he did ask for names, they wouldn’t say anything. They don’t want to risk attachment to subjects like him. Ha, like they even consider people like him risks at all. That’s a funny thought.

Pushing through the fog forming in his head, and before nerves could embarrass him, Ash relax back, feeling his spine pop as you molded your flesh to accommodate him. “’s natural. Getting sick just means my system hasn’t gone to shit.”

He pushed back his mane of black hair, annoyed at the hairs on his face. He can’t properly grow a beard, not with how many times his face has peeled. There are patches of hair then patches of scar tissue that dip into his face, like fat was cut off but never returned. Made his face weird, older than what it should be, from what he can see from the reflective across this sealed room.

You leaned down, pressing your head against his. “Do you want to fix that? It be easy.”

He has no doubt about that. A creature of flesh such as you must specialize in it. Honestly, it would bliss to have all his aches and chronic pain to finally go away, but…

“No, that’s fine.” He doesn’t want to push it. You’re already to kind to him as is. “Don’t push yourself, okay?”

That…and he wants to be pampered longer, as shameful as that was. He likes it when you carry him to and fro from the door, even though your movements are limited. You’re glued here, mass kept under control so as to never breach.

Clearly, with him here, he was supposed to be nourishment for that goal, but it’s clear you had a will of your own, as strange as it was.

“So be it, then. Your concern is oddly placed, when you’re more perishable than me.” Then, you relaxed back yourself, within his sight.

The silence was…nice. He’s familiar with it, but before it was more enemy than friend. Here, with you, it was something he can relax into.

Truly, you are an odd creature. A mimic who seemed more human than the people here.

[noir-drabbles]

Ash 3

Summary: Ash has a self esteem that’s in shambles. The act of giving him affection has him rather flustered, to say the least.

When you tilted his face to peck him on the cheek, Ash leaned away, but not in such a way that spoke of rejection. It was more bewilderment that had him avoiding you.

“Do you…” Ash clears his throat, cheeks alight with a flustered pink that had you patting his face, “do you know what you’re doing?”

You didn’t pursue him. You simply laid down on a flesh mass, crossing your arms under your chin. “Yes. Showing affection to the one I favor most is normal, isn’t it?”

“I..well,” His sigh got caught in his throat, “Not when there are people watching.”

“There are none. People watching, I mean.” You tilted your head, all your little feelers within the walls of this place told you of no such thing. Only the light electrical work of cameras pointed towards you.

“How do you…” Ash trailed off before shaking his head, “Ah, right, right. I’m talking to a god, here.”

“Is it the camera’s that bother you? You’re still not relaxed even though there is no one physically there.” Well, expect for you, but you’re a familiar presence. He has no reason to be afraid of you, especially since you saved him from a fate most cruel.

“No, not that, I’m used to cameras recording everything, even when I piss,” Ash scratched his neck, closing his eyes as though debating what to say, “It’s just…”

“Hm?” You leaned closer, just to tease him. You knew it worked by the way he his skin flushed deeper.

“…warn a man will you? I’m not exactly built to handle heart attacks like that.” The glare on his face was annoyed at most. It’s adorable, how he’s not rejecting your show of affection. “Anyways, when did you even learn that?”

You closed the distance and wrapped your arms around his waist. He didn’t pull away, though the stiffness in his spine told you of his conflict of wanting to lean in or get out. “Everything I consume, I see their memories.”

“You learned from that?” Ash lifted his face, curious.

“Yes. The scientist I consumed had dated quite a number of times. Though, said dates always ended in disaster. They were must too distant.” A disastrous love life truly. Oh well, you do have to thank them for giving you a human face to use.

Ash dipped his head. His heart sped up, his blood pumping right into his cheeks once more. “…you can try again.”

“Hmm?” Ash, you’re going to have to be clearer than that.

“A…” Ash swallowed, “a kiss, you can try that again.”

You spoiled his cheeks with them, with full permission.

You almost snorted when Ash groaned. “A kiss! I didn’t say go wild!”

[noir-drabbles]

Ash 2

Summary: Patchwork Divinity Labs never used to be such a cold place. The people that used to be here would have no qualms interacting with the subjects, talking and laughing with them when the time allowed it. Of course, that never made this place any less of a prison.

Ash, before he chose that name for himself, was nothing more than U-ME58. He was more than sure he was born outside. He has vague recollections of rain, wind and snow, but he also knows that all who are here have been given up willingly.

His name, he doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been given one, honestly. But, it’s fine. It would’ve only hurt his ability to adapt here. He would’ve missed what could’ve been. Even now, Ash craved to know what it was like to step on crunchy leaves, to jump into puddles and pretend to be a kid again.

How embarrassing. He’s been here for so many years and yet he still can’t let go of those fantasies.

…

Did you know this place used to be warmer? Yes, it was. His room used to have things, you know. Gifts from people he mentally called his teachers, wrappers from candies that he would collect, and other odd little things like that.

‘Enrichment,’ is what everyone here called it. It kept stress levels low for the kids, for when he used to be a kid. The meals weren’t exactly the best, but he knew there was some amount of effort there. It was always different after all. Green beans, some rice, carrots and cranberries. There was so much chicken too. Ash has been told it was a cheap meat.

Back then, before the escape of U-D1, it was the closest thing Ash had to a home. It was better than nothing, but here he is.

…Ash doesn’t know anyone here. They’ve all been replaced, ever since U-D1’s escape. He knows this must have been this lab’s greatest failure, otherwise, why would everyone be gone within days? Why would he be denied his room?

Why would he be denied simple conversation?

Subjects such as him stayed. They have no choice. A number of drugs had to be tested out on someone. Honestly, Ash doesn’t know if he’s lucky or not. All he had to do was take whatever drug was given and wait for a reaction. He didn’t have to interact with the beings these drugs were made from until this project was deemed a waste of time.

If not for that, if not for his body stubbornly surviving despite how it was broken down again and again, he wouldn’t have been thrown away to you. Ash probably would’ve died to someone else.

So, tell him, should he be thankful or not?

[noir-drabbles]

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[noir-drabbles]

Patchwork Divinity Labs Index

Ash

Summary: You’re…odd to him. He expected to be eaten, and yet here he is, laying against your fleshy form.

Summary: Patchwork Divinity Labs never used to be such a cold place. The people that used to be here would have no qualms interacting with the subjects, talking and laughing with them when the time allowed it. Of course, that never made this place any less of a prison.

Summary: Ash has a self esteem that’s in shambles. The act of giving him affection has him rather flustered, to say the least.

Summary: You have long since fused a piece of yourself into his spine. Forever will a part of you be with him. However, the effects on him have been… uncomfortable.

The White Beast (Yandere)

Summary: With you laying a piece of yourself within his spine, Ash was lead to the containment unit where the White Beast lived.

Summary: The White Beast breaks out of his containment to visit you, blessing not the ground but a guard that attempt to place him back in.

Dyrage Reed

Summary: Long has Dyrage split off his attachments to the face you wore. As long as he is here, it must be kept that way. His job, at the current moment, is just to question you, to see if you have memories other than the one you have consumed.