#winged!eric derekson

[lostcybertronian]

It wasn’t that bad with Eric and Randal? Please?

Okay so my newest hyperfixation is Star Trek (Spirk in particular) and I want to writE IT SO BAD but I also needed to get a prompt up today so here you go here’s a short an’ angsty

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Prompt: “It wasn’t that bad.”

Pigeons wings wrapped around him, muffling his sobs as he wept. A hand rubbing his back, that space between his wings. A soft voice, Randal’s, whispering.

    “It’s not that bad. It wasn’t that bad.”

    In Eric’s hands he clutched handfuls of tattered, gray feathers, and more feathers were strewn about them, some half-clipped, others looking like they’d been sawed in half.

    “I can’t fly,” Eric cried, jaw aching from his gritted teeth, from the force of his emotion. “He clipped my wings-”

    “The damage wasn’t as bad as you think,” Randal reassured him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “You’ll be flyin’ again in no time.”

    Randal didn’t mention Eric’s ruined primaries. Or the bloody slash marks hacked into the soft down of his wings. He didn’t mention the roiling anger bubbling in his veins. It wasn’t what Eric needed in the aftermath of his visit with his dad.

    So, instead, he kept on rubbing Eric’s back, and offering soothing words, hoping it would help.

[lostcybertronian]

Can we see Eric having a flashback to his time with Derek than one of the other egos comforting him afterwards?

I took this as a winged!AU prompt. Hope you don’t mind :)

Title: Scissors

He was pathetic. Just like his dad said he was. One look at a pair of scissors and he’d simply broken down. Fled the room, much to the confusion of the Jim Twins.

Now he shuffled down the- thankfully- abandoned hallway, his eyes red and puffy from crying, his handkerchief twisted nearly to ripping in his grip.

His wings were tucked in tightly enough to be uncomfortable; an effort to hide from the overwhelming memories of scissors and his dad’s angry, gleaming eyes as he hack-hack-hacked away at Eric’s primaries and secondaries, declaring triumphantly once he was done that Eric wouldn’t ever fly.

The thought of being grounded- now that he’d truly had a taste of being in the air, of feeling the air rushing through his feathers and hair- brought fresh tears and fresh panic. It consumed him nearly to the point that he almost didn’t notice the figure approaching from the opposite direction.

“Eric? Is that you? Is something wrong?” It was Dr. Iplier! He couldn’t let the doctor see him like this. Couldn’t make him comfort him like he’d done time and time again.

Thinking quickly, Eric spun and darted for the door he’d passed a few feet back, yanking it open and disappearing inside before Dr. Iplier could call out again.

He squeaked when he found himself in near-absolute darkness and surrounded by the tall, shadowy shapes of bookshelves.

The Host’s library. The Host scared him. He had no eyes!

Eric sucked in one breath. Then another. But he couldn’t go back out there. Dr. Iplier was out there.

Maybe he won’t notice me. He tip-toed further in, eyes shooting left, right, forward, searching for any sign of the Host.

But, of course, he wouldn’t get any. Not even when the Host approached him from behind.

“The Host finds a young man wandering about where he doesn’t belong.” The words made him jump. He whirled, eyes widening at the rather gruesome sight of the Host’s pale, blood-streaked face and the dingy bandages he had in place of eyes. Behind him, his wings- were they made of paper?- seemed to loom.

“I-I-I’m sorry-” he stammered. “I-I-I-”

The Host merely smiled. It looked to Eric like a wolf’s smile. “The Host is not angry. He understands the need for privacy.”

“Bu-”

“Eric is not as pathetic as he seems to think. He has good reason to fear a pair of scissors.” From one pocket of his trench-coat the Host produced a clean tissue, which he offered to Eric. “Does Eric wish to remain here for a while?”

Eric stared at the tissue as if it might bite. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and took it. “Uh. I, um, I thi-think I’d like that.”

The Host smiled again, and nodded to Dr. Iplier, who had just come in. “The Host enjoys having company every once and a while. Shall he read you both a story?”

Eric nodded warily, side-eyeing the doctor. “Su-sure.”

“He has some good ones.” Dr. Iplier winked and placed a comforting hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

Eric managed a small smile as together they headed further into the library.

[lostcybertronian]

Winged AU: Dark being questioned by a new ego on why his wings were broken.

Title: Questions

When he walked down the hallway with the Host, he always noticed that the Host’s wings- dirty and ragged and unkempt as they often were- were always held high. Proud.

Proud, where his were not. Dark’s own wings- though the feathers were well-kept and smooth- drooped, the tips of his primaries nearly dragging along the floor.

He couldn’t hold them any higher, and they could barely move at all. Not without horrendous pain. And he couldn’t fly. Not like the others could.

He knew the others knew. He heard their low whispers as they hurriedly answered the newbies’ questions and told them never to say a word.

But occasionally, someone would.

“D-Dark?” Eric Derekson was new. The son of Derek Derekson; an abominable man who shouldn’t have ever been created. But here they were regardless. “A-are your wings okay? D-Did you h-hurt them?”

“Eric-” Wilford warned, but it was already too late.

Dark whirled on him with a snarl. “That’s none of your concern, you pathetic idiot.”

Eric’s eyes widened, filling with tears. “I-”

“Leave my sight,” Dark snapped, “and if I find you broaching the subject again, you’ll wish I did nothing but hurt you.”

Tears spilled down Eric’s face and he backed away a few steps before turning and fleeing the room.

“That wasn’t nice, Darkie,” Wilford said, frowning and stepping closer, reaching out to place a hand on Dark’s arm. “Maybe y’should apologize.”

“Shut up, Wilford.” Dark jerked his arm away and left the room.

[lostcybertronian]

Erik's dad clipped his wings, never letting him fly anywhere, almost like a punishment for not having feet. When it grew back during his time with the egos, he had to relearn how to fly. Randal helped teach him, always being encouraging and showing him things he'd learned from watching pigeons.

I don’t know much about Randal. I don’t particularly like him. But here’s my best interpretation anyway lol. Very New York.

Title: Clipped Wings

He hadn’t been able to fly in years. His father had never let him. He’d taken a pair of old scissors to his wings time and time again, hacking and sawing at the feathers until they were ragged and broken and useless.

But now, as he gave his tawny wings an experimental flutter and felt the familiar rush of anxiety, he also felt a little, tiny bit of hope.

“Gonna test those things out?” Randal asked as he came into the living room, his own pigeon wings tucked in tight behind him.

Eric shifted his weight, prosthetics clanging against the floor. “I- I don’t know h-how to fly.”

“Y’don’t know how ta fly?” Randal’s eyes widened and he gave a dramatic gasp. “Ya gotta fly! It’s the best thin’ in th’world!”

“I-I-I-”

“Come wit’ me!” Randal started toward the stairs, which would inevitably lead to the roof. “I’m gonna teach ya!”

Eric hesitated for only a moment before following him.

[lostcybertronian]

Oh no- did Eric make it okay?

Sequel to this post

Title: Warmth

“I jumped off a roof!” Eric’s face was colored red and his hair was blown back. His prosthetics clanged over the clinic floor as he stumbled, nearly fell, righted himself again and kept going.

“You what?” Dr. Iplier looked alarmed. He paused mid-change of the Host’s bandages, his wings fluttering at his back.

“Me- and-and Randal- and I flew!” A grin appeared on his face and his wings popped out, nearly knocking over some equipment that sat on the counter. He quickly snapped them back in again, grin faltering. “So-sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. Iplier reassured him at the same time the Host said, “Eric should share his experience.”

“Y-you want me-me to tell you about it?” His dad would never ask. His dad would’ve grabbed a pair of dull scissors- whichever pair was within reach- and dragged him into the back room.

He felt a rush of warmth when both Dr. Iplier and the Host nodded, and eagerly launched into the story of his first real flight.

[lostcybertronian]

Finally- Winged!Eric

There is a sequel here

Title: Jump

“You can do it. Ya just gotta jump.”

“O-off of this bu-building?” Eric’s voice quaked and so did the rest of him; shivering like a leaf in the brisk breeze that swept the roof of the building they stood on.

“Yeah!” Randal wore an easy grin and he appeared completely unbothered by the two-hundred-foot drop. His wild blond hair blew in the wind. He brushed it out of his face. “Just gotta do it.”

“Wh-what if I fa-fa-fall?”

“Tha’s what yer wings are for, silly!” Randal clapped him on the back, nearly sending Eric right off the edge. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there ta catch ya if things go wrong.”

Eric paled, as if he were envisioning the things that could possibly go wrong. All at once. But still, he managed to stutter out, “o-o-okay.”

“Great!” Randal’s grin got wider. Then, he jumped right off the edge, his wings spreading and catching the rushing air barely ten feet into the fall. “C’mon, Eric! You can do it!”

“I-I-I-” Eric tried to repeat Randal’s words, only to stammer and gulp and peer further over the edge. It was a long way down. A sharp breeze gusted, ruffling his feathers and sending a chill down his spine.

Just gotta do it. Just had to let his wings catch him. The way Randal had shown him.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped off the edge of the roof.