I shall regale you by my fabrications of mayhem.

Big shout out @lacteaway for the beautiful art they made for my fanfic! I can’t thank you enough for the inspiration you’ve given!

Doc Ock x Child!Reader Fanfic

Has life got you down?

Can't remember the last time you saw a happy ending?

Do you need something to take the edge off, but your local dealer is simply too expensive?

Then what you need is to give this fanfic of mine a read!

Chock full of found family fluff, being adopted by Otto Octavius, getting a second chance at childhood, you being the reason Otto Octavius regains control of his mind, and uhhhhhh..........it has a happy ending!

*Subject to change and/or editing. The author is shameless and will try to give you the big feels.

Disclaimer: This is not beta-read. Comic book logic. Spiders. Spider-Man. Friendly henchpeople. Friendly prostitutes. Original Characters. Lions. Mad science. Mad scientists. (More possibly to be added).

Trigger Warning: Violence against children. Threats of violence against children. Child Abuse. Mild levels of gore. Kiddnapping. Human Trafficking. Human experimentation. Torture. (More possibly to be added).

Author Note: Please be brutal with me. I can take it. Any grammatical errors, plot holes, whatever, feel free to point them out. I'm very proud of this story, and I want it to be the best that I can be. My aim is also to center this around reality as much as possible. Bad things will happen if people knew that you could easily make a small pea-sized amount of gold grow into the size of a softball.

Taglist: @littlemsjollibee, @yuki2129 @stinky-raccoon1

The Green Lion (WIP)

By tardigradesandtigers

“The true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words.” ― William H. Gass,  A Temple of Texts

----

Chapter One – Calcination Part One

On the outside, it’s nothing but the expansion of their growing tech lab. Focusing on the production and development of silicon for their specialized computer parts and equipment. While there was evidence of that being done on the floors above, his informant told him they were doing something below ground. Public records had been tampered with to say that there is no basement of any kind, and with how quickly the building had been bought, renovated, and ready for business was unheard of in NYC. Money talks, but even money can’t talk fast through the bureaucracy of it all.

Breaking in was easy enough. Climbing down the shaft of the building’s only freight elevator, he pried open the elevator doors to basement Level B-1 and found a storage space that was packed full of wooden crates and plastic-wrapped pallets of unopened boxes. The room was oddly small. Not wasting any time on seeing what’s inside any of them, he lets the doors slide closed, and he continues downward.

Upon entering Level B-2, he entered the unloading dock. There is a distinct smell of industrial-grade disinfectants in the air. Tearing through the steel-grated wall that separated the dock from the room ahead, he next broke through the sliding glass doors into an amalgamation of a sophisticated and technologically advanced biomedical, biochemistry, and geology lab all rolled into one. Vials of blood and blood products stood in tube racks and hung in bags and sat in bottles in a large refrigerator. Looking through its window, he sees sterile medical supplies filling the cabinets and lab benches. The four actuators, picking up his unease, look around curiously. There was a diverse number of solid ores, minerals, and stones. They ranged from small pellets of lead to softball-sized pieces of raw, malleable gold. There were uncut precious and semi-precious stones – one of which was a diamond large enough to fit into the palm of his hand. He quickly stashes it into his coat pocket.

Walking through the open partition into another section of the lab, he finds elements, minerals, and various materials categorized on specially built industrial shelves against all four walls. One of the labels read tritium, and sliding the box out, he unlatched the metal lid and cracked it open. He immediately recognized the golden crystalline structure that is tritium. Suspended in the center, it’s no bigger than a penny, the glass surrounding it making its entirety the size of a quarter. It was nowhere near the amount he needed, but figuring that something was better than nothing, he pocketed it and went about destroying another set of sliding glass doors to the next lab, immediately grimacing at the nearly overpowering smell of blood.

This room was the same size of the last one with almost the same set up. Almost. Against the walls on all sides were a series of lab tables. Beakers filled with blood on magnetic stirrers. They made little ‘tinking’ sounds as if there were something in the container besides blood. Several centrifuges hummed as they spun.

Reaching the opposite end of this lab, there stood a large, solid steel door. Ignoring the potential of setting off some sort of alarm, he tore through it like tissue paper and was puzzled by a large room. Thrice the size of the last one, with a vaulted ceiling. From where he stood, there was an aluminum column that seemed to reach up into the ceiling, dead center of the room. There were control consoles, computers, and monitors surrounding a large, raised platform. Walking towards the center of the room, that platform that held a 9x9 foot transparent cube, and looking in, he was aghast at what he saw.

+++

The giant man standing on the other side of the glass spots you and all you can do is hide underneath your blanket. They already took blood from you. Why do they want more so soon? Then again, he wasn’t wearing the normal white coat or completely covered in that thin, rough material like the others. In fact, his coat was dark green and reached all the way down to his ankles. You don’t think you’ve ever seen one like it before. And what were those snakes? Before you can ponder his appearance any further, there is a tapping sound coming from the direction the man was in. No one is allowed to make any unnecessary communication and/or contact with you.

For him, it must’ve seemed like it was a small gesture to get your attention. For you, it was like someone just invited you to come and play for the first time ever. Scared that this might be a trap but too curious to ignore it, you tentatively lift your blanket over your head and look in the direction of the sound. He’s still standing there, and he gives you a simple little wave with a smile.

The four large snakes that come out from behind him immediately grab your attention. In the soft, gentle lighting directly overhead, they appear to be shiny like metal. At the ends of those snakes are flowers, and they each have three petals. Their centers glow red, and curiosity has you climbing out of the bed – with your blanket wrapped around you. You approach with slow and cautious steps, never taking your eyes off the strange man nor the metal snakes. Their own eyes never leave you. You stop when you almost reach the glass and turn your head up to the man. You give him an overexaggerated look of suspicion, and when he responds with an overexaggerated look of suspicion of his own, you giggle, and that original caution you had evaporates, giving you the confidence to let yourself take those final steps, stopping in front of the glass to look at the one metal snake that is at your eye level.

You stare into its red center, wondering just how alive it is as it seems to be staring back at you. Its long metal body bobs and weaves slightly to keep its head steady. Watching as the man kneels, he watches you in fascination, a soft smile on his face. The actuator catches your attention when it rotates its petals, leaving you simply amazed. Placing your finger on the glass in front of the red light, you move your finger out to the side, and the flower follows, and you don’t even notice that you’re smiling. That smile only grows as you start to walk, moving your finger up and down the glass. You run from one end to the other and start to giggle as another snake joins in. The stranger doesn’t move, but he watches you as you play intently. After running the length of the glass a few times, the metal snakes lead you back to a stop in front of the strange giant man.

----

Note/s:

Probably should've mentioned this sooner. This is heavily influenced by One More Chance by BookwormGal

I really don't know where I'm going with this story. I just knew that I didn't want it to just take up storage space in my head. But rest assured that I will do everything within my power to see this story through. All of you beautiful people deserve a happy ending.

“Nature helps nature.” ― Micheel Sandivogius, A new light of alchymie taken out of the fountaine of nature and manuall experience 1650 [Leather Bound]

Chapter Two - Calcination Part Two

You couldn’t have been older than five, maybe six years old. A thick metal collar fits snuggly around your neck. While cautious at first, your obvious and overwhelming curiosity about the actuators drew you closer. Halfway from the bed to him, you stopped and looked up at him with a look of suspicion. When he responded in kind, you giggled. He couldn’t hear it from behind the half-inch-thick bulletproof glass, but he was able to see the action clearly. You stopped in front of the glass, staring intently at the actuator before you. Kneeling onto the ground, he mentally commanded it to spin its claws, and is elated to see you’re amazed at the simple action. It was nice to meet someone who wasn’t scared senseless by them.

He watched as you placed your pointer finger on the glass and brought it out to the side. The actuator followed of its own accord. When he simply lets your curiosity take over, letting you play. Whatever hesitation you had left melted into outright joy and playfulness. You were smiling and laughing like this was the first time you were allowed to. It probably was.

Leading you back to stand in front of him, he retracted the actuators back behind him, and even though he was currently kneeling in front of you, you still had to look up at him. Using his metal arms to get himself back onto his feet, he brought his hand up and waved it back and forth, motioning you to back up from the glass.

Bending himself at the waist, letting his arms and head dangle, he smiled incredulously to himself when all you did was copy the movement with your own hand.  

So instead, he started to walk backwards as much as he could on the platform, leaving the actuators at the glass; happy you were following suit. His back hit the railing of the platform and seeing you had retreated as much as you were going to from the glass he covered his face with his hands. Through the eyes of the actuators, he could see that you were still mimicking him and without further delay, he thrusted the blades of the actuators through the bulletproof glass.

Treating this like that solid steel door from before, he tore a massive hole right through the multilayered laminated glass and upon stepping through said hole, he was pleasantly surprised that you were already coming up to meet him, and he kneeled to get down to your level. Before he could even kneel down to your level, you had grabbed the closed head of one actuator and looked down the tip of its closed head.

Beaming with soft, warm eyes, you looked up at him and asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Otto Octavius.”

“What do you do?

“I’m a scientist in the field of Nuclear Physics.”

“What’s Nu- Nuclear Physics?”

“It’s a field of science that studies what’s inside atom and how they interact.”

“What do you like?”

“What is this? An interrogation? Are you a cop?” He asks with dramatic incredulousness.

“I don’t know,” you responded, giggling, hugging the massive claw to your torso. It’s almost as big as you.

Before you could ask another question, “What’s your name?” At that, the smile on your face fell, and you looked down in thought. After a couple of seconds, you responded, “I don’t know.”

‘Should’ve seen that coming. Let’s cross that bridge later.’

You let go of the actuator to scratch at the inside of your arm and noticing something off, he gently forces that arm upwards. There is an indention of an arm port imbedded underneath the skin with a small, healed surgical scar directly underneath.

“Who did this to you,” he asked as his thumb lightly brushed over it.

“I don-…,” you started to respond but cut yourself off.

He opted for a change of topic: “So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?" You smiled bashfully.

Returning the head of the actuator into your arms to distract you, he turns you around and lightly forces your head downwards. Pushing your hair out of the way he finds the thick metal hinge of the collar that rests against the back of your neck. Another actuator places its claws onto the hinge, and he could feel your arms tighten around the actuator you’re holding as you rest your face against it in anticipation.

“Hey. It’s gonna be okay,” he says gently as the actuator snaps through it like a hot knife through butter. Taking it off your neck you whimper in pain and he goes rigid. There are two deep red holes on the back of your neck on either side of the vertebrae leaking the tell-tale red and pale-yellow fluid that’s sanguineous wound drainage. Looking at the collar there are two contact points. Turning you back around to face him, his tight-lipped smile probably wasn’t hiding the sadness he felt for you well.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“You mean outside my room?!” Your voice was dripping with anxiety. However, there’s a glint of hope in your eyes that betrays the fear in your voice.

“I-I- But won’t Dr. Patel be mad?” Stammering, his heart broke at the sight of you waging a war in your mind with horrific experiences only known to you. Trying to decide if stepping out of this hell is worth raising the ire of a man with whom to you, had to be one of the scariest people you’ve ever known.

‘Dr. Patel... Gotta see if my informant can dig up any info.’

Cupping your small cheeks in his large hands, he looks you directly in the eyes as he chooses his next words carefully, “I will never let anyone hurt you like they have ever again. Not even Dr. Patel will be able to hurt you. Never again.”

“…Not even you?”

His heart broke some more, “…Not even me.”

This seemed to satisfy you as you’re now far less apprehensive than you were just a moment ago. Picking you up as he got up off his knee,

“What are you smiling at?”

“I don’t know,” you nervously giggle out before yawning.

“Ahhh. I understand now. You’re tired. It is waaay past your   “No, I’m not! I- I just don’t want to miss this! I want to be here for this!”

Chuckling, he stepped through the hole in the destroyed glass.

He commands the actuators to place the broken collar into his hand. Seeing it fills him and the actuators with rage. The discharge from your wounds still shone in the dim light of the contact points. He would bet a good amount of money that there was a tracker inside of it, and he has plans for it.

Through the heads of the two actuators he had on the ground to stabilize both of you, he was able to sense what had to amount to a small army coming towards your general direction through the small rhythmic tremors in the ground.

Raising himself onto the actuators, he climbed the glass chamber and tore into the aluminum sheeting that covered the entirety of the top of your prison cell and began to ascend into the darkness. After climbing what had to have been ten stories, he readjusted you so that you were tucked and covered in his coat and then tore through yet another wall, breaking through into what appeared to be an employee break room. A wide window stood on his right. Still standing on the actuators, he hesitated long enough to ask: “You okay?”

With your face buried into his side, all you could give in response was a loud and muffled, “I’m okay!” Chuckling once more, without further delay, he ran, smashing through the glass, escaping out and down the side of the building.

--

Taking several odd routes and back alleyways and even transversing down into a defunct sewer system for a short while, he eventually felt safe enough to enter his home. He threw the collar into a shipping container bound for Mexico, hoping that would at least keep them busy for a little while. Unsurprisingly, the events of the night have worn you out as you had fallen fast asleep in his arms. He couldn’t get over how adorable you looked. Mouth slightly ajar, you cuddled an actuator like a stuffed animal.

The sun is just beginning to crest the horizon causing the building to cast dark and foreboding shadows over the cracked pavement. Since losing his boathouse to the river he decided that something a little more inland and less waterlogged might serve him better. The squat, two-story, long-abandoned factory he called his home is surrounded by a decaying privacy fence topped with barbed wire. Nearly all the windows had been boarded up when he first found the place and he’s since boarded up the rest, save two on both floors in the event he had to make a hasty escape.

It was far from the best place for a child, but anything was better than that glass box they were holding you prisoner in. After making sure he wasn’t being followed, he used the actuators to climb over the fence and entered the building through one of the two accessible windows on the second floor. The second floor is the living space, and the ground floor is his lab.

Once inside, he’s able to bolt that window/door shut from the inside. A free actuator grabs a metal bar and places it on the reinforced hooks on either end of the windowsill, effectively barricading it. Laying you down onto his threadbare couch, he found himself thanking the years of domesticity that marriage brought him. An actuator grabbed the raggedy wool blanket resting on the far end of the couch and covered you with it. Sitting down next to you, he suddenly remembered the uncut diamond in his inner coat pocket but wasn’t half as interested in it as the small penny-sized amount of tritium he’s currently pulling out of the outer pocket. Setting down the diamond on the cluttered coffee table in front of him, he inspected the small tritium orb between his fingers.

He jumped slightly when you snuggled into the actuator and he instinctively hid the small marble into his hand. Turning his focus back to you, you managed to shift your hair back enough for him to see the wounds on the back of your neck and he put the tritium back into his pocket.

‘How could I have forgotten?’

“Wha…,” you cooed as the actuator you were holding caused you to stir when he ordered it to wrap around your torso and brought you to sit in his lap. Another actuator brought him his first aid kit.

“I’m right here,” he whispered as he straightened the blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You slumped over, your head hitting his chest.

“What’s going on,” you asked sleepily, weakly trying to get your arms free from the actuators hold.

“I need to take care of these wounds of yours so that they don’t get infected.”

Forcing your head forwards, the head of the same actuator that was currently keeping you in place held your hair out of the way with its claws. As someone who’s been electrocuted a few times in his life, he knew exactly what electricity feels like and the burns that it caused and this was a mix of repeated low electrical discharges in combination with pressure necrosis.

The surrounding skin was a shiny, bright pink color – the first signs of a possible infection. Loading as much antiseptic ointment onto a couple of synthetic gauze pads as he could, he places them on either wound followed by some soft woven gauze encompassing your neck. Lastly, he wraps self-adhesive bandages around your neck, doing his best to gauge whether he wasn’t constricting your neck in any way but making sure it was firm enough that the gauze would stay in place.

“Is that too tight,” he asks quietly but he only gets a hum in response, “Yeah, you’re alright.” The actuator unraveled from you letting him wrap his flesh and blood arms around you, practically engulfing you as he held you close to him. A series of clicks and chirps ensued.

“What do you mean, ‘What now?’,” he responded to the actuators. After a series of more clicks and chirps and he answered, “We can get the fuel we need in time. We don’t want to scare or force her into it. Listen to me when I say, patience will be our best friend in this case. If we’re careful, we could have all the tritium we could ever want. Besides, she is fascinated by the four of you. Do you really want to scare the only person who isn’t scared to death of you guys?”

This quieted them. “I thought so.”

Happy that they were listening to reason, he turned to look at you and yawned. He realized that the more he interacted with you the quieter the actuators were…

…It was bliss

+++

Standing thirty stories above the streets of Manhattan, Augustine Cross stares out at the buildings that surround him as he clenches one hand on the balcony railing and the other on the flip phone at his ear.

“What do you mean ‘She’s gone?’” The casing of his phone starts to creak as his grip grows tighter.

“I mean she isn’t here, sir. She’s escaped.”

“How?” He could barely keep the rage out of his voice. This was the last thing he needed.

“She had help, sir. I just don’t think you’ll believe me unless you take a look at the video I sent you.”

“Out with it,” he shouts.

“It was Dr. Otto Octavius. He took her.”

“Dr. Otto Octavius is dead.”

“Apparently not, sir. The lab techs say they’re missing a small container of an element called tritium and one 460-carat diamond.”

“Damnit,” he whisper-shouted, “Fuck!” A sizable chunk of that diamond was going to be given as a gift to his latest piece of arm candy.

After a moment, “Sir?”

“Here’s what we’re going to do…”

Note/s: It is of my own lowly opinion that Dr Otto Octavius deserves a loyal henchman. Also, I must apologize. Work has been so busy these past couple of weeks. Please enjoy!

Chapter 3 Dissolution Part 1

Seeing the pseudonym on the small screen on the front of the flip phone, she answered immediately.

“What can I do for ya, Jefe?”

“Good morning, Estrella. I need you to make a grocery store run. And pick some first aid supplies.”

“Glad to hear you’re starting to take care of yourself, Jefe. Anything specific or a  wide variety?”

“Yes. Fruits, vegetables, grains, eggs, milk, and everything in between. Grab a fleece blanket if you see one.”

“You got it. I’ll meet you at the lab in four hours.”

“You have three.” Estrella heard the line end and forcing herself out of bed, shucked on some clothes and got to work.

++

Setting the phone down onto the counter, he saw that the clock read 5:37 AM, having gotten home not three hours ago. Given all that’s happened in the past several hours or so, sleep wasn’t going to come. Otto was too wired. For the longest time it was only him and the actuators and now it was him, the actuators, and a nameless little girl with an extraordinary gift. While he was hesitant to involve even his one loyal henchman – henchwoman? – he knew that he had to get some food into his fridge if he was going to start taking care of a child; mutant or not.

There was still the question of whether your parents were looking for you or if they were the sole reason you ended up in that lab. He would bet money on the ladder given the hatred mutants go through daily.

‘This is the longest I’ve gone without hearing a single word from the actuators.’ Realizing this was the first time he could feel his cerebellum – his conscious mind – physically fighting back against them since at the river that night with Peter…

With the mere thought of Peter Parker, he could physically feel something shift in his mind. It was exactly like that foreboding feeling he felt that first time when he set foot into that old boathouse. The realization of something – something in his head, taking over. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped the edge of the dining table with white knuckles.

“Listen…to…me…” With several deep breaths, he could feel whatever shifted just a couple minutes before removing itself. They didn’t completely go away of course. He feared they would never completely go away, but for the first time in over year, he could feel some small part of himself reclaiming his own mind.

“Are you okay?” Jumping at the sound of your voice, you stood just a few feet away from his hunched form with a questioning, concerned look.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Did I wake you,” he asked and you simply shrugged your shoulders.

“Where are we?” That was a fair question.

Kneeling in front of you, “This is my home and I also conduct my research here. It’s your home now too.”

“Okay.”

“You’re being oddly calm for someone who just woke up in strange place with a someone you only just met....Are you okay?”  

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t know where I am, but I know that it’s better than where I was. I know that you’re better than them.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you took that collar off. You haven’t been mean to me. You haven’t yelled at me. You haven’t hurt or hit me. You talk to me like a person.”

Frowning, he opened his arms and you walked right into them wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re not scared of me at all?” Breaking the hug to look at you. With clicks and chirps, the actuators stretched themselves out and made themselves known.

“I don’t think so.”

He understood what you meant by that. There was always the possibility that he could hurt you, but you’re smart enough to recognize that he was the best thing going for you right now.

‘Poor thing.’

Straightening his legs, he lifted you up and set you down onto the dining table. Checking the bandaging around your neck, he’s satisfied that there was no wound drainage that might’ve leaked through. He used what little was left earlier and was hoping Estrella would come sooner rather than later so he could change the dressings.

“Who’s Australia?” He laughs at the mispronunciation.

“You mean Estrella?”

“That’s what I said. Australia. Who is she?”

 “She’s uh…a good friend of mine. Now, you need rest. How about I read to you?” You perked up at that, and he smiled at your enthusiasm. The only thing that he owned that would remotely be interesting to you was a poetry book he stole on a whim from a table outside a secondhand store when he saw the name on the front and thought Rosie. It had been discarded on a side table as soon as he got home that day and only now, brushing off the thin layer of dust off the cover, does he reread the title: The complete works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Setting you into his lap, you easily settled down resting against him. Opening it up, he immediately recognized the title of one poem Morituri Salutamus. Turning to that page in the book a question formed in his mind, that he was sure he already knew the answer to.

“Do these characters make any sense to you?”

“No, but it smells good.”

"…‘it smells good?’ What does?”

“‘That thing’, you mean the book?” You giggle as he uses that pseudo-“Is that what it’s called?”

Through no fault of your own, you have a lot to learn, and he was excited at the prospect of teaching you. 

“Now, I find the integral calculus of advanced quantum mechanics easier to comprehend than poetry,” you giggle some more at what had to be nonsense words to you, and he smiled, “so bear with me on this.”

 "O Cæsar, we who are about to die

Salute you!" was the gladiators' cry

In the arena, standing face to face

With death and with the Roman populace.

O ye familiar scenes,—ye groves of pine,

That once were mine and are no longer mine,—

Thou river, widening through the meadows green

To the vast sea, so near and yet unseen,—

Ye halls, in whose seclusion and repose…

++

Walking up to the one functioning door of the entire building, arms full of groceries and a massive 75L backpack on her back full to the brim with foodstuffs, Estrella Lopez didn’t get the chance to finagle her phone out of her pocket to call. Otto was already there, opening the door.

“Come in.” He was speaking in a soft, quiet tone.

“Shall I go put these upstairs?”

“Understood.”  Making her way up to the second floor, she rounded the corner and placed the groceries down onto the counter. Otto was right behind and started to help. This was new, and she stopped and looked at him curiously. He noticed her stop, and he looked at her curiously right back. Gesturing towards the groceries and then the cabinetry, she mouthed, “Why?”

He pointed towards the couch. Looking over the counter, past the dining room table, a little girl slept peacefully, wrapped in a blanket, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

Looking back at Otto, she mouthed, “Is that from…?” He responded with a single head nod. Despite being absolutely astounded, she went back to stocking the cabinets and shelves. Once they were done, she silently made her way over and watched you sleep. After a minute, an actuator came over, and the head indicated towards the staircase downstairs, and with some reluctance, she followed.

Once downstairs, he held up a finger before she could say anything.

“When you gave me that information, you told me that you thought it was ‘worth looking into.’ I thought so as well when I saw all the details,” he continued after finding the right words, “I feel as though I can trust you with this. I understand it will be easier if I had help.”

“Anything you need, sir,” hand at her forehead in a salute.

“You’ll meet her in time. For now, I just need you to keep the fridge and cabinets stocked. I’ll pay you back for whatever food and toiletries you buy as usual. And while I’m figuring out who this kid is and where she comes from, I need you to look up and find as much information as you can on Dr. Patel of Cross Tech Inc. I’ll try and see if the kid knows anything more, but since interacting with her for the past nine to ten hours or so, it’s most likely she won’t.”

“I have a name and a place. I can figure out the rest.”

“Excellent, and I don’t know how you manage to keep this place off the grid as you do but keep this place running with electricity, plumbing, and whatever else.”

“Sir, I’d lose my Latina card if I didn’t know how to work a drill.”    

“Heh. I’ll tell you more about her when I get more info out of her.”

“I know not to ask questions you can’t give answers to. You’re paying me the big bucks after all.”

Poor thing, she's dying from cringe 😔