Grace finally turned his eyes from the sky. Rocky stood by his feet. He stood rigid, his claws scratched the ground through his suit as the quietest worried chirps sounded from him.
"Um." Grace tried to keep his voice from wavering. He slowly backed away from the telescope. "I think. There's no way. But. I think there's something in orbit."
Rocky slightly leaned forward. Grace knew him well enough to know this was his way to communicate "Yes, and?"
Grace took a steadying breath. "I think it's something human."
-
Grace and Rocky spot the SM-13 in Erid's orbit. Reasonably, they are terrified.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baby’s first posted fanfic. This is unfortunately gonna evolve into a series probably. We’ll see :3
My first @badthingshappenbingo prompt fill! This ended up being a lot longer than I intended it to lmao, but enjoy! Thanks for sending in a request~
CW: captivity, implied pet whump, electrocution, manipulation, self-loathing
Whumpee’s “good behavior” had granted them the privilege of going upstairs instead of rotting away in Whumper’s cold, musty basement. They had even been given free range of the house, and Whumper seemed ecstatic that their captive was finally warming up to their new life.
Whumpee gratefully accepted this new privilege. They’ve been on their best behavior this week: not shying away when Whumper tries to cuddle up with them, accepting any punishments with gratitude, and even going out of their way to care for their captor’s needs.
And, oh, life is so much easier when they’re not chained up in the basement. Now, the only thing acting as any kind of restraint is the shock collar around Whumpee’s neck. Whumper has used it countless times in the past as a sort of training tool, as negative reinforcement for whenever they try to talk back or disobey them. They’ve even got Whumpee trained to fear the sight of the remote, as it almost always brings pain and a lingering headache.
But it’s alright, even that has been accounted for in Whumpee’s elaborate plan to finally get out of this hell. Amidst their constant state of paranoia, Whumpee still thinks this plan is almost perfect. It has to work.
Because if it doesn’t…well, Whumpee doesn’t want to think about that.
Whumper didn’t seem to pick up on Whumpee’s scuttling each time they were left alone, and didn’t comment on how they’d been digging through drawers to locate keys and searching around for security systems or anything else that could aid them in an escape attempt. They didn’t appear to see through Whumpee’s risky attempt at manipulation, and even right now, they don’t stir as Whumpee slips the shock collar’s remote from a sleeping Whumper’s nightstand drawer. This way, if they do wake up, at least they won’t be able to turn the collar on.
Hope flutters in Whumpee’s chest as they swiftly tiptoe down the hall, into the living room, and towards the front door. One hand holds the key to the front door (Whumper had made it a point to tell Whumpee that they had removed the inside lock in preparation for their new life upstairs). The other hand shakes violently and feels clammy as it grips the shock collar remote--but not too tightly. Whumpee’s heart hammers as they think about the possibility of accidentally triggering it…but they don’t want to put it in their pocket, because then they could shift and it would go off and everything would be painful.
It’s alright, the shocks will be over soon. Whumpee is getting out.
They squeeze their eyes shut as they reach for the door handle, as if touching it would set off their collar. They knew it wouldn’t--shock collars didn’t work like that, and the remote was right here. And nothing happened, anyways! They’re fine.
Whumpee flings the door open and feels a breeze of crisp night air for the first time in…had it really been a few months now? It feels so nice, but Whumpee snaps themself back to the present. They have to go, now.
Whumpee doesn’t make it one step out onto the front porch before the prongs in their collar crackle to life.
They immediately lose their balance, crying out in pain as their body is wracked with shocks at the highest setting. But they had gotten the remote--how was the collar going off? They dropped it anyways, their fingers instead moving to claw at the painful sensation crawling up their neck and into their head. Get it off get it off get it off!
But their twitching hands can’t seem to grasp the collar, and they can’t get it off even if they tried. Why didn’t they try to take it off first? Stupid echoes through their mind and they can’t focus on anything else through the pain.
They don’t know how long they lay there writhing on the front porch. But at some point, they realize they need to go, they have to try, or else Whumper’s gonna get them and punish them and this is so painful they just want it to stop. Through everything, their adrenaline pushes Whumpee to their elbows and they attempt to crawl towards the front lawn.
They whimper as another wave of shocks rush through their body and hear a chuckle sounding from above them. No, they must be hallucinating, they have to under this much pain, right? Please let this be a hallucination.
Whumpee glances up to see Whumper looking down over their twitching form. Nononono, Whumpee tries to back away, but the shocks only seem to get worse and they cry out in pain. They shake their head, try to will themselves to ignore their convulsing muscles and run, but they can’t move, they can’t think. It’s too much.
“Oh, darling, look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” Whumper tuts, and Whumpee learned months ago that they find Whumpee’s pain amusing. In that way, Whumpee has played right into their hand. “Let’s get you back to your room, yeah?”
“N-n-no…” Whumpee whimpers in the first form of defiance they’d shown in weeks, ever since they started cooking up this little plan of theirs. So much for freedom. “...don’ wanna go back.”
“Whumpee.” Their captor’s voice snaps, all prior amusement morphing into stern impatience. “Let’s go. You’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood.”
Whumpee lets out a sob. As if that’s what they’re really worried about right now.
Whumpee should scream. They should be doing everything they can to wake up the neighbors as a last-ditch attempt to escape whatever punishment Whumper has in mind. Maybe the neighbors could help, call the police, send someone to investigate Whumpee and find them. But through the waves of pain and months of conditioning, Whumpee can’t make themselves carry out their plan. They just want their neck to stop searing. Why did they ever think this was a good idea?
“Whumpee, now. You’ve already lost upstairs privileges, do you want to lose more?”
Whumpee shakes their head, the movement made even jerkier due to the shocks continuing to wrack Whumpee’s body. “N-no more, please.”
“Then let’s go. You have five seconds to get up and walk back inside.”
Whumpee whimpers. The shocks are too much--they can’t get up!
“One…” Whumper sighs, “Two…”
What other privileges could they lose? They were already going back to the basement, back to no comfort or freedom to move around as they please. This collar was already bad enough…
“Three…”
Despite everything, Whumpee wills themself to stand. They try to take a step forward, but Whumpee’s legs give out from under them as their muscles convulse and they stumble. But this time, Whumper catches them. They’re led back into the house, and then everything stops. The pain is gone, save for the lingering aftershocks and muscle spasms that Whumpee has gotten used to after months of being shocked into submission.
Whumper pockets the remote, seemingly having turned off the collar. There was an off button this whole time?! Whumpee had been so stupid. They thought they had planned everything, that it had to work. Whumpee even took the remote and they dropped it after the shocks started. So there’s no way that they could've accidentally held the button for that long, and there’s no way Whumper would have been able to activate it without the remote…right?
“Good pet,” Whumper coos and lets Whumpee lean on them. Their voice is filled with disappointment as they add, “I’m really glad I bought that invisible fence. I had hoped that it wouldn't be necessary…but clearly, you still need some more training.”
Whumpee’s breath hitches. Invisible fence? Like the ones that…that shock dogs if they try to run off of their owner’s property? Their face falls as they realize that as long as this collar is on, they won’t be able to leave this house.
Whumper drags Whumpee towards the basement door and tears prick at the corners of their eyes. They failed. They’re never getting out of this place, are they?
Noctis had basically had his favorite flower picked for him.
He’d been surrounded by roses since he was a kid. They were everywhere, at parties, in the garden, at weddings or any other formal event. They had never seemed important to him—they seemed like an everyday occurrence.
It wasn’t until the day he showed Prompto the palace gardens that he thought anything special of them. First it was the sunflowers, and Prompto looked so awed by them that Noctis knew he had to get this boy sunflowers one day, and then it was the roses.
They’d just been casually walking through the garden that Prompto stopped him, grabbed his camera, told him not to move. Noctis didn’t understand at first, but he did as he was told, allowing Prompto take pictures of him as he wanted, only realizing that he’d been in front of the rosebushes when Prompto was finished.
This continued for years. Whenever they were in the garden, or passed by a rosebush in the city. Even when they left for Altissia, if they passed by roses, Prompto wanted pictures.
They were laying in the tent one night after Ignis and Gladio fell asleep, curled up with each other when Noctis finally asked why.
“Roses mean love and passion, and you look the most beautiful when you’re surrounded by them. They make you look like the king you are.”
Gladiolus had never been big on flowers. And not just because they weren’t “manly’, he just didn’t think they served any purpose and were a waste of space. A pretty waste, but a waste nonetheless.
But, if for some reason anyone ever decided to ask what his favorite flower was, he would have an answer for them.
Gladio’s little sister was one of his favorite people on the planet. Definitely in his top five. Maybe in his top two, when she wasn’t being a brat. He doesn’t have a written list or anything (he absolutely does).
He remembered being a little kid and learning that he was going to have a sibling. He’d been disappointed and excited all at once, but he wanted his little sister to know he loved her from the moment she was born.
Eight year old Gladiolus begged his father to take him shopping so that he could get her the perfect “welcome to the world” gift. It was on that trip that Clarus told Gladio that they would be naming the little girl Iris once she was born.
Gladio convinced Clarus to let him get the biggest bouquet of irises he could find, along with her very first teddy bear.
(Iris’s favorite flower is gladiolus, for anyone wondering)
He loved the pretty colors and the sweet scents. They were something beautiful that he could enjoy in a time of war, and he took every chance he could to go to the gardens and admire the flowers. Luna had always been partial to sylleblossoms, but Ravus didn’t like the blue color of them.
Ravus liked yellow flowers. Sunflowers. Yellow roses, tulips, lilies, and hydrangea. Marigold and freesia. But his favorite flowers by far were the golden hued daffodils. He enjoyed narcissus flowers of any sort, but there was something about the traditional daffodil that always seemed to catch his eye.
When Luna died, he stopping caring about flowers. He no longer stopped to breathe in the sweet scent. No longer plucked the prettiest ones from the gardens to keep for himself as long as they would live. After her death, only once more did he even give flowers a second thought, and it wasn’t for himself this time.
The last time Ravus touched a daffodil, he’d plucked it and set it afloat in the waters of Altissia, a small farewell to the sister he loved so much. And then he did his best to never look at them again.
(don’t @ me I see y’all comin for me, try to convince me that Ardyn doesn’t hide a bunch of random fkn weapons around the office or say some dumb fkn shit I dare you, I mean: “Would I ever leave this company? Look, I’m all about loyalty. In fact, I feel like part of what I’m being paid for here is my loyalty. But if there were somewhere else that valued loyalty more highly… I’m going wherever they value loyalty the most.” -----> tell me that is not Ardyn)
aight so heres Noct with his fancy hair and his haphazard suit and he’s totally the New Guy™
cue pretty blond boi Prompto at the front desk ready to greet this mess of a man with a huge smile
“Welcome to Kenny Crow Paper Company! I can show you around!”
(dunder mifflin is a fkn ridiculous name okay, so this one needs to be just as ridiculous)
(on another note, Ardyn (Trash Boi™) is Kenny Crow but that’s unrelated to this AU that’s just canon)
anyway so heres Noct and hes just fkn dead because hes never seen anyone so cute in his life and Prompto stops at Noct’s desk at the end of the “tour” and Ardyn of course is at the desk right next to him
“And here you are! This is Ardyn. He’s not awful but he’s kind of awful.”
(Ardyn stole cookies that Prompto had bought for himself once and he’s still holding a grudge)
It’s been a month now
Ardyn really is fuckin awful and Noct is sick of it
Noct has befriended Prompto and he’s just,,,, so in love
Let the Hunger Games Begin
Prompto tells Noct about the Cookie Incident
(Noct is very upset)
So what does Noctgar do?
he buys oreos and fucking spends an entire 3 hours scraping the frosting out of the middle (and eating it) and fucking fills them all with toothpaste
leaves them on his desk when he goes to the bathroom
surprise surprise theyre gone when he gets back
suddenly everyone hears high-pitched screaming from the break room
Day 2: Returning the Favor (helping the Chocobros)
Bonus Characters: Monica Elshett and Weskham Armaugh
Okay, so Vyv wasn’t exactly the most giving of people. He had opinions and things he needed to say, and he was going to say them, dammit. He adored his company, and he was going to use his publications to get his messages out to the world. It helped that Prince Noctis and his entourage were kind enough to bring him some material so that he didn’t have to go out and get it himself. And he paid them pretty well for it, so he was a least a little giving.
Prompto was a nice enough kid, and he had quite a bit of talent from what Vyv could see. It started out as him just asking them for extra photos so that he could get his articles out ASAP, but then he started really admiring the kid’s talent. Vyv started asking for pictures that he didn’t really need, just to see how good the blond was. What really caught his eye were the landscapes Prompto took. Vyv’s favorites so far were the photos he’s had taken of the Disc of Cauthess, and Vyv left copies of them pinned up next to his desk.
One day, instead of letting the Prince and company to come to him, Vyv made an effort to search them out. And luckily enough, he found Prompto all by himself taking pictures of the view from Lestallum, which was perfect for Vyv’s intentions.
Paying them enough gil for a night’s stay at Galdin certainly made their time worthwhile, but Vyv wanted to pay them back in a more personal way. More specifically, he wanted to pay back the photographer who had gotten him all of those gorgeous pictures for his publications. Especially since climbing Ravatogh and going to an Imperial base just to take pictures were no small favors.
A quick conversation with Prompto settled it. A week later, Vyv had enough photos to fill an entire page. Another week later, and there was an entire spread in The Meteor with Prompto Argentum’s name on top, all of his best photos filling the pages, captions with pretty words and embellished stories written beneath or next to every one of them.
Prompto had some extra work every time he passed through Lestallum now, whether it was for Vyv or a local that had seen his work, and Vyv was confident that this would be a good start for the blond once he was done with his journey.
Vyv made sure Prompto knew that if he really wanted to be a professional photographer, there would always be a job for him at Meteor Publishing.
—-
This was fun to write! I think it definitely needs to be more polished, but I adore the idea
Bonus Characters: Aranea Highwind and Crowe Altius
Let it be known that Crowe Altius does not like chocobos. They smell, they have to be fed, and they make awful noises. (Libertus says the same thing about her bike, but at least her bike isn’t using the bathroom wherever it likes). So this mission was not at all one she wanted to be a part of, because it would require riding chocobos through most of Duscae and Leide.
Crowe preferred the missions that didn’t require her to leave Insomnia, or at least the ones that let her choose her mode of transportation. This was almost insulting. But it was her job, and if there’s one thing Crowe did well, it was her job.
Of course, all the complaining she did on the way to the outpost didn’t help her case, but she stopped complaining when she got there and met someone she hadn’t expected to.
Aranea Highwind was a name Crowe only really knew from stories. The commodore was fierce (as fierce as she was beautiful, if you asked any of the men) and lethal. She started as a mercenary and eventually worked her way through Niflheim’s ranks (supposedly) killing anyone who stood in her way and making it look like an accident. Crowe had always wanted to see such a woman in person.
She just hadn’t expected to see her for the first time while she was petting a chocobo blacker than the night sky.
First of all, that would definitely be the chocobo Crowe was using, because she was not going to be seen on one of those fluffy yellow chickens.
Second of all, Aranea really was as beautiful as the men had said.
It took Crowe a full minute to come out of the small daze she’d been in, and even then it took her awhile to approach the woman. The men were hanging back, either because they didn’t care or because they were afraid of Aranea, as they should be. But Crowe had always been in the habit of finding trouble.
Aranea grinned at Crowe wickedly as she approached, still lazily petting the chocobo. “This the one you want? She’s a sweetheart. I think you two will get along famously,” Aranea spoke, and maybe Crowe’s knees went a little weak.
“You think so? I’m not the biggest fan of oversized birds,” Crowe said, avoiding Aranea’s eyes as she approached, reaching a hand of her own up to the chocobo. “I feel like I’m gonna fall off every time I ride one.”
“Maybe I’ll just have to teach you how to do it properly.” If Crowe had been looking, she would’ve seen Aranea’s wink.
When the Glaives came back to drop the chocobos off a week later, Aranea was there again. Crowe smirked when she saw her, and told the others to go on ahead.
