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Entry tags:
- 15 minute fic,
- fic,
- fma,
- gen
Fic - "By Accident or Design"
Title: "By Accident or Design"
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raja815
Character/Fandom: Roy Mustang. the Truth. (Implied Roy/Havoc.) Fullmetal Alchemist.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 648
Warnings: Bad language. Angst. Some scariness.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Sort of a mangaverse future fic, probably AU. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15_minute_fic. Prompt is under the cut.
This week's prompt was: gateway.
Roy stared at the gateway before him in horror.
It towered upward to infinity, intricately cared and dark, hinged on nothing. From somewhere—behind it, within it, or heaven forbid behind it—came a wet, pulsing sound, like a malignant heartbeat.
No… oh, God, no…
There was something poison about it. Something sick in the angles, deranged at the molecular level, venom in its very physics. Just looking at it stretched Roy to the breaking point, but he couldn’t look away. It held him like a predator’s gaze, consumed his attention… until the low, painful moan wrenched him back to his own mind.
How could this… what could have…
“Jean!” He tried to stand, to reach for him, but could not rise from his servile crouch. The ominous entryway above him seemed to hold him pinned, glaring and mocking his terror. From somewhere beyond his consciousness, an alien thought in an alien language exploded across his mind; Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate’.
His legs… I only wanted him to have his legs back… how could I… I only wanted tohelp… what have I done, what could’ve gone wrong…
Grasping at straws, he looked to his palm. The Philosopher’s Stone in his hand was nothing more than a smear of crimson liquid. Used up. Impotent. He looked down at it with a fresh spike of horror, when the moan—the familiar moan, just this side of gravelly after years and years of cigarettes—came again. Only this time it sounded halfway to a scream.
“Jean! Where are you? Jean—!”
“You know he isn’t here any more, Colonel.”
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. At its intonation, the abused and decadent thing that was Roy’s sanity bent double and almost broke. Roy clenched his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see it, whatever it was. Nothing that spoke in a voice like that was made for eyes to see.
“Who…” Roy tried to ask, but his pitiful, fallible, and utterly human voice was lost amid a screech of laughter. With it came a scratching from the blackness, like a thousand disembodied fingernails raking against the gate’s blasphemous, inorganic wood.
“I don’t suppose Elric ever got around to letting you know about me. Do me a favor, Colonel. If you get out of here, give him a message for me. Tell the little brat his cunting mother sucks cocks in hell. Be sure that he gets that.”
“Please…” Roy managed to choke out. “My subordinate… where—?”
“You should’ve known better, Colonel. Human transmutation is a tricky business. You should never attempt what you don’t understand. Stone or no stone, you don’t fuck around with the infinite.”
Roy opened his mouth and moaned some primitive sound of negation. No… not right… I didn’t… I never… he was… More of the ghastly laughter stopped his thoughts in their tracks.
“I suppose you thought since he was still alive, it would all be okay? Thought you could breathe some life back into those pitiful dead legs you left him with, and give nothing in return? Doesn’t work like that. Oh, no.”
Roy heard it again; Jean’s voice, that well-loved voice that he’d ached for every day since he’d been forced to leave him behind. Only this time it was shrieking.
“Jean…” He moaned, and opened his eyes. What he saw frayed his sanity to a thread, then neatly snapped it.
The gateway was open.
“Would you like to come in and look for him?” The voice came again, cool and collected and utterly repulsive. “I’ll let you do it. But it’ll cost you. Oh yes. It’ll cost you. What’s he worth to you, Colonel? What’s your bastard lieutenant fuckbuddy worth to you? An arm and a leg? Your cock? How ‘bout that pretty, pretty face? Be quick, now. What’s your answer?”
The voice dissolved into laughter as Roy Mustang began to scream.
Scary fic for Halloween! The Truth was an awfully sarcastic bastard in this. Hope some of you like it anyway.
Anyway, I know it's a bit of a divergence from the workings of the Gate, but I thought (in the 30 seconds or so I spent plotting this, so as not to go over the 15 minute time limit) that it would be interesting if botched medical alchemy could somehow become akin to attempting human transmutation, especially if Roy was trying to regenerate Jean's damaged nervous system. Or something. That's about as deep as I care to delve in a 15 minute speedfic.
Oh, if you can spot the (slightly altered) Exorcist quote, I'll give you acan of split pea soup cookie. :)
Author:
raja815Character/Fandom: Roy Mustang. the Truth. (Implied Roy/Havoc.) Fullmetal Alchemist.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 648
Warnings: Bad language. Angst. Some scariness.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is © Hiromu Arakawa. I will make no capitol benefit from this.
Author's Notes: Sort of a mangaverse future fic, probably AU. Written for
15_minute_fic. Prompt is under the cut. This week's prompt was: gateway.
Roy stared at the gateway before him in horror.
It towered upward to infinity, intricately cared and dark, hinged on nothing. From somewhere—behind it, within it, or heaven forbid behind it—came a wet, pulsing sound, like a malignant heartbeat.
No… oh, God, no…
There was something poison about it. Something sick in the angles, deranged at the molecular level, venom in its very physics. Just looking at it stretched Roy to the breaking point, but he couldn’t look away. It held him like a predator’s gaze, consumed his attention… until the low, painful moan wrenched him back to his own mind.
How could this… what could have…
“Jean!” He tried to stand, to reach for him, but could not rise from his servile crouch. The ominous entryway above him seemed to hold him pinned, glaring and mocking his terror. From somewhere beyond his consciousness, an alien thought in an alien language exploded across his mind; Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate’.
His legs… I only wanted him to have his legs back… how could I… I only wanted tohelp… what have I done, what could’ve gone wrong…
Grasping at straws, he looked to his palm. The Philosopher’s Stone in his hand was nothing more than a smear of crimson liquid. Used up. Impotent. He looked down at it with a fresh spike of horror, when the moan—the familiar moan, just this side of gravelly after years and years of cigarettes—came again. Only this time it sounded halfway to a scream.
“Jean! Where are you? Jean—!”
“You know he isn’t here any more, Colonel.”
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. At its intonation, the abused and decadent thing that was Roy’s sanity bent double and almost broke. Roy clenched his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see it, whatever it was. Nothing that spoke in a voice like that was made for eyes to see.
“Who…” Roy tried to ask, but his pitiful, fallible, and utterly human voice was lost amid a screech of laughter. With it came a scratching from the blackness, like a thousand disembodied fingernails raking against the gate’s blasphemous, inorganic wood.
“I don’t suppose Elric ever got around to letting you know about me. Do me a favor, Colonel. If you get out of here, give him a message for me. Tell the little brat his cunting mother sucks cocks in hell. Be sure that he gets that.”
“Please…” Roy managed to choke out. “My subordinate… where—?”
“You should’ve known better, Colonel. Human transmutation is a tricky business. You should never attempt what you don’t understand. Stone or no stone, you don’t fuck around with the infinite.”
Roy opened his mouth and moaned some primitive sound of negation. No… not right… I didn’t… I never… he was… More of the ghastly laughter stopped his thoughts in their tracks.
“I suppose you thought since he was still alive, it would all be okay? Thought you could breathe some life back into those pitiful dead legs you left him with, and give nothing in return? Doesn’t work like that. Oh, no.”
Roy heard it again; Jean’s voice, that well-loved voice that he’d ached for every day since he’d been forced to leave him behind. Only this time it was shrieking.
“Jean…” He moaned, and opened his eyes. What he saw frayed his sanity to a thread, then neatly snapped it.
The gateway was open.
“Would you like to come in and look for him?” The voice came again, cool and collected and utterly repulsive. “I’ll let you do it. But it’ll cost you. Oh yes. It’ll cost you. What’s he worth to you, Colonel? What’s your bastard lieutenant fuckbuddy worth to you? An arm and a leg? Your cock? How ‘bout that pretty, pretty face? Be quick, now. What’s your answer?”
The voice dissolved into laughter as Roy Mustang began to scream.
Scary fic for Halloween! The Truth was an awfully sarcastic bastard in this. Hope some of you like it anyway.
Anyway, I know it's a bit of a divergence from the workings of the Gate, but I thought (in the 30 seconds or so I spent plotting this, so as not to go over the 15 minute time limit) that it would be interesting if botched medical alchemy could somehow become akin to attempting human transmutation, especially if Roy was trying to regenerate Jean's damaged nervous system. Or something. That's about as deep as I care to delve in a 15 minute speedfic.
Oh, if you can spot the (slightly altered) Exorcist quote, I'll give you a