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serenasoutherlyns · 4 years ago

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Not a Summer Crush Part Four

a/n: this is a long one! enjoy. this chapter features coffee, colds, cuteness, serena southerlyn, schemes, saturdays. all feedback makes me LOVE you, so please please reblog, reply, like, anything! you can always find this on ao3 as well. happy evening, and part five coming at you soon!

Part Four

"Haley," Anderson stopped you in the kitchen the next day. He was reaching into the fridge to get one of the terrible salads he always ate and you were rinsing out your French press (you figured, there were plenty of coffee shops nearby but a) you didn't need to be spending your money like that and b) the way the grounds fell as you pushed them slowly to the bottom had more than once brought you moments of enlightenment). You didn't stop to listen initially but he continued. "Haley," he said, "how do you do," he paused, gestured to your whole body, "that."

You looked at him, blinked, expecting him to clarify, but he did not. You laughed at him, gently, appropriately. "I don't know, Anderson, I was born 27 years ago," he winced, "I did some things, I'll do some more things, in fact, I spend most of my time doing," you gestured to yourself, "this."

He opened his mouth a few times, trying to think of what he meant, but said, "I mean, you work sex crimes, and you're so,"

"Exuberant?" You said.

"I was going to say bubbly."

"Hm."

"Forget I said anything."

"No," you said, taking pity on the guy. "It's ok," you patted his shoulder, "You learn to deal with it, right? I mean, I think I am."

“How do you keep it from getting to you?” His question made you laugh, then your face fell, something serious behind your eyes.

“It gets to me. I’m so sad all the time. But if I always acted how I felt, I don’t think I could do it.”

"Right," he said, not quite convinced. "Look I've been with homicide for five months and I still don't think I'm there yet."

"Give up or give it more time then," you said to him with a raise of your newly cleaned French press and a shrug. As you walked back to your office (you had banned him from having meals in there in your first week on the job) he watched the way you occasionally raised yourself up on your toes, in awe at your apparent ability to stay sunny.

Someone else noticed your little rise and lower. Alex Cabot had, today, decided to leave the blinds to her office door open. It was so she could catch moments just like this one, you bopping along in the hallway with your coffee maker, somewhere between walking and dancing.

Fuck, she thought, not even bothering to stop the grin, that's so cute.

Alex had talked to Casey. Well, Casey brought it up, actually, but Alex would have.

---

"So, I talked to Rita," Casey'd said almost before she shut the door behind her.

"Good evening to you, too, baby," Alex said, greeting her in the entranceway, kissing her sweetly. Casey smiled into it. Casey broke the kiss and walked towards their living room, her body aching for a comfortable seat. Alex walked behind her, pinching her (lovely perfect gorgeous) ass, causing her wife to yelp in the silly way she reserved for Alex alone. Casey always flopped onto the couch, which had originally annoyed Alex. She'd once insisted Alex try it, and while she did not move to change her habits, she admitted to seeing the appeal.

Alex, having followed Casey to the couch, bypassed the ample seating and chose the same side as her wife, who was sitting against the arm rather than the back, providing a perfect avenue for Alex to make her way up her body, continuing what she'd started. When Casey moaned, Alex got up and walked to the kitchen, ignoring Casey's whines. Alex picked up the plates where she'd put dinner (ok, it was carryout, but still, plates!) and joined Casey, another habit that was Casey's first, this one she was happy to go along with.

Casey and Alex sat on the floor, playing quiet music and making their usual conversation, routine and comforting.

"So, you talked to Rita?"

"Mm, mmhmm," Casey said, Alex having caught her mid-asparagus-bite. They laughed. "Yeah, I talked to Rita. She almost broke my door down to ask if I was sleeping with Caroline.”

Alex paled, “I was just talking to Serena about the same thing.”A panicked look flashed across Casey’s eyes. “Oh god, no, I don’t think you’re cheating on me. I mean, I went to Serena’s to be all emotional about Caroline.”

“I nearly cried.”

“In front of Rita Calhoun? And she didn’t melt?”

Casey scoffed, “She’s made me cry so many times.”

“I try to forget that fact,” Alex said.

“Fair enough. Anyway, apparently, her prowess in deductive reasoning led her to believe that I was having an affair.”

“A one-sided affair, that’s new.”

“Two-sided, unless both of us are only one side.”

“Two-sided implies there’s something there.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Isn’t that it.”

“Yeah.”

They both picked at their salads, wondering why Alex had bought salad. Casey looked up at the ceiling, Alex looked down, fiddled with the rug. Alex skipped a couple songs on her phone.

“Casey, what are we going to do about this. I don’t, I mean, I think, um.”

“I don’t know. I guess, our options are, pursue what we want or don’t and get over it.”

“If you put it that way,” Alex said, pausing, “I think we need to know what we want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want us both to be really happy, and I want her.”

Casey took a sip of her wine, agreeing with her fingertips, taking Alex’s hand. “You said what I was thinking.”

“What do you want, though? Serena said this thing about me being upset over a threesome we haven’t had and I kind of thought like, I don’t think I just want sex, um. I don’t know if that’s how you feel.”

“I do feel that way, actually, Lex.”

Casey held their hands up to her cheek, kissed Alex’s.

“So we’re pursuing that?”

“So we’re pursuing that.”

“What if,” Alex started. Casey responded with a shrug, and Alex thoughtfully nodded.

---

So, they were pursuing it. What that was going to mean was unclear as of the moment Alex saw you being very cute in the hallway, but they’d agreed that they wanted some kind of relationship, romantic, sexual. They wouldn’t want it if you only wanted one of them, they wouldn’t want just sex. It all would work out, Alex hoped. Casey was more confident than she was, but Alex had more of a cautious spirit when it came to relationships. They were well balanced. Alex hoped (and hoped and hoped) that you would want them. She gave herself a few more moments to smile, then turned back to her work.

Despite Anderson’s impressions and what Alex saw, you were not, in fact, feeling good. It was the middle of summer, but you couldn’t get warm. It’s just a cold, you thought, as you held your hands against the warmth of the coffee. Your cases were getting overwhelming, and you couldn’t afford to take any time off right now, not even to be sick in bed. Getting sick in the summer was exactly your luck.

A knock on your door startled you. You quickly collected your composure, turned on your peppy demeanor (you told the truth to Anderson: you learned how to seem OK a long time ago).

“Hey,” Casey said. “Are you in court at all today?”

You shook your head. “No, just paperwork, research. Why?”

Casey shrugged. “Thought you might want to have lunch or something.”

“I ate already,” you lied. You just didn’t want to request a place that served chicken soup. Your appetite had disappeared. “Sorry,” you said with an apologetic smile. “You want some coffee?” you asked, gesturing to the full pot.

“Sure, actually. The setup is a smart idea.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, getting up to pour two cups. “My apologies for the lack of sugar and cream.”

“Ah, it’s ok.” Casey said, accepting the cup and sitting down across from you in the extra chair. “No honey?”

“Alex told you,” You said, smiling, and Casey nodded. “It’s more of a special occasion thing.”

You watched her blow on the drink, her lips pursed over the top of it. They were a lovely shade of pink, you decided. She stuck her tongue out a bit when she took a sip, like a butterfly and its proboscis, you thought. You promptly scolded yourself for thinking that sort of thing at work. You had been considering Ramin’s advice, to “use your feminine wiles” on Casey and Alex, make them want you so bad that they believed it was their idea. It was sneaky and exciting. You’d resolved to start doing tiny, almost unnoticeable things around them (however convincing they could be when congested). Before you sat, you brushed your hand along your hip; as you held your mug, you ran your fingers along the handle.

“How’s your day going?” you asked her, knowing she’d had lots of tough cases recently. SVU had brought you on as a junior ADA because with the rising awareness of sexually-based crimes (a good inconvenience), the caseloads had risen to an all-time height, even after they brought Gillian back in to cover some cases. They were both very relieved that the gamble the office had taken in hiring a young person, whose experience had mostly been in property crimes, had worked out. It stood to reason, Casey had pushed for a younger lawyer, knowing first hand how much of a strength that could be; and when Alex had seen two Stanford degrees on your C.V., she felt sure too. You’d been a good choice. Still, you were all four overextended.

“Eh, it’s been fine, all things considered,” Casey replied. She watched as you fiddled with the tips of your hair. You’d begun wearing it curly more often, which had proven to be somewhat distracting for her. “How good can any day be in this line of work.”

You agreed with a nod. “I was just talking to Anderson about that.”

“What did he have to say?” Casey asked, knowing the attorney’s propensity for putting his foot in his mouth.

“I feel for the guy. I think he’s having trouble in homicide. He called me bubbly.”

“You are bubbly.”

“I’m energetic.”

“He should transfer to white collar. He’s got the attitude for it.”

You squinted your eyes scoldingly. “You would know.”

“I would.” The two of you broke into much-needed laughter. You were about halfway through your cup, but wished you were at the beginning again. “Was it hard?” you asked, “moving from white collar to sex crimes? I mean, just the level of emotional complication required, it must be so different from all that, detail.”

“It’s the hardest thing I think I’ll ever do in my professional life, yes.” Casey always looked you right in the eye, it was intense, the way she never averted her gaze. You tended to shift your gaze around rooms, taking in details, never resting on anything for too long. People sometimes wondered if you were paying attention, and explaining that looking them in the eye made it harder to listen didn’t work. Casey never cared, or at the very least never brought it up, just let you be the way you were. She set her coffee cup down. “I cried in my office my first day, in front of Olivia. I practically begged Arthur Branch to reassign me. I had wanted homicide, major cases. You know, all the glory less of the gore.”

“Have you ever regretted it since?”

“Never long enough to think about leaving. Voluntarily, that is,” she stated with a smile, referencing her suspension. You didn’t know all that much about what had happened, and you let her talk with a warm and open demeanor. “In all honesty, I needed that suspension to rewire my brain, I was drowning. And it didn’t last as long as I thought it would. That’s actually when I got together with Alex,” she said, smiling again, wider this time. “In a stupid hipster bar. She had brown hair at the time, I almost didn’t recognize her.”

“Please tell me you have pictures of brunette Alex Cabot.”

“Oh, I do, but they’re all buried deep in different camera rolls…” she trailed off in memories, “I’ll find them for you when I need to embarrass her. I, for one, liked the brown, but she can be very self-conscious.”

“You wouldn’t guess that when you meet her.”

“No, you really wouldn’t. But, Caroline,” Casey said, and hearing your name out of her mouth never failed to give you butterflies, “truly, I don’t think ‘like’ is an appropriate word for what I, what we do, but I feel called to it.”

“I think I do too.”

“Retention rates in this field are low. You’ve already outlasted them. I think that’s proof enough.”

You finished your coffee and brought your mug to the little table where you kept it. How you had such a messy desk but such a tidy coffee space evaded Casey, and probably told her more about you than you’d like. Alex walked by your office coming back from a meeting, pleased to see you and Casey conversing in the junior office. Casey finished her coffee shortly after you did. She met Alex in the hallway.

---

“Counselor, do you need a tissue?” Judge Catano said to you in an irritated tone in chambers the next day, apparently after one sniffle too many.

“Or a nap,” John Buchanan added under his breath as you pulled a nearly empty packet out of your suit pocket and wiped your nose.

“Thank you for your concern, I assure you both that I am quite alright.”

---

“Go home, get some sleep. Your cases will be there in the morning.” Alex said the evening after that, passing by the open door to your office on her way out.

“I won’t stay long,” you replied, knowing full-well that you would.

---

The day after that, Anderson got in your way at the wrong time and found himself unfortunately sneezed on.

---

You made it to Friday, and despite what you were telling yourself, you kept getting sicker. Every day was like time couldn’t decide between speeding and slowing down. Sometimes, you’d look up from what felt like ten minutes of work and an hour had passed, sometimes a meeting that felt like an hour was only ten minutes. And you still had work to do. Casey tapped on the door, unsurprised, again, to find you were the only one there. Anderson had left about a half hour ago, the other juniors often left right at 5:00.

“Hey,” she called from the doorway.

“Yeah?” You replied, looking at her over the top of your laptop.

“Come work in my office?” She asked. You’d taken to working with her or Alex or both of them in the evenings, with the general idea that many heads make light work. Or something. Really, for you, it was just a good excuse to spend time together.

“Sure,” you replied, “meet you there.” She walked off as you packed up your things. You were a bit woozy as you stood up from your desk. Oh well, that was how it went. You made yourself comfortable in Casey’s office (Alex, she explained, was off picking up some documents at the precinct).

You shivered in your seat on the couch, you blew your nose Casey eyed you, having noticed how you’d been sniffling all week. “Allergies? I have some Zyrtec somewhere in this desk,” she said, opening her drawer up to look.

“Oh, no, I’m not allergic to anything, I just didn’t,” sniff, “sleep well last night.”

This was an attitude Casey knew well.

---

Alex always liked summer evenings in the city. Yes, the smell required some getting used to, it could get noisy and crowded, but something about the way the orange light (that lasted longer than any other time of year) played off the tall buildings, the metal vendors on the sidewalk-- it just got to her, made her enjoy the walks she took from place to place. She checked her notifications on the way back from the precinct.

Casey: Caroline is sitting in my office sniffling and looking pale.

Alex: “Allergies?”

Casey: She denies them.

Alex: So the cold she’s had all week caught up to her?

Casey: Can you pick up some meds and we can make her go home?

Alex: I mean, good luck to us…

Casey: Alex.

Alex sighed and crossed the street, ducking into a Duane Reed for the requisite illness package. convincing you to take advantage of it was going to be a wholly different task.

When she arrived back at the office, she discovered a different scene than she expected. As she reached Casey’s office door with the supplies, her wife caught her eye through the window, motioning at her to be quiet when she came in. Alex was, and saw you, on Casey’s couch, deeply asleep with your fingers still on your laptop keyboard, typing endless spaces in a Word document.

“Well,” Alex whispered, coming to Casey’s side, leaning against her desk. “That’s certainly adorable.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up,” Casey said, “poor thing.” Alex looked at you, your curls flipped up over your forehead, your pink cheeks, your pile of work beside you. A warm sense of nostalgia lit up inside her.

“Remember, when we first came back to the DA’s office,” Alex said, seeing Casey smile playfully, the same feelings building in her chest.

“And there was a horrible bug going around the office,” Casey continued, telling the story for her wife.

“And I refused to admit I’d gotten it,”

“And I found you asleep, with your head on a legal pad,” Casey squeezed Alex’s hand.

“Because I was late to a meeting,” Alex tucked a strand of hair behind Casey’s ear.

“And when you lifted your head up, your forehead was covered in ink,” Casey finished the story with a grin, teasing her wife. “Yeah, I remember that. And I remember trying and failing to get you home, and I remember you getting me sick.”

“Only because you couldn’t keep yourself from kissing me,” Alex said. Casey just shrugged, acknowledging that her wife was correct. They had no need to say what they both were thinking, and, in fact, no time.

You stirred, stretching out, very sleepily. They snapped out of their reverie. “Hey, you two,” you said, your voice nasal. “You guys are so cute,” you continued, still not quite awake, you said what was on your mind. You felt a bit voyeuristic, but you didn’t mind. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” you said, waking up more fully, “sorry I fell asleep, Casey,” you said. You started to pull the notes you were looking at back up to your lap, but as you picked them up, you noticed someone else was holding the other end. Alex had a grip on them, and you were too weak to resist as she picked up all your papers and put them back in your bag.

“Laptop,” she said, holding out her hand. You gave it to her, looking to the side, embarrassed. She held out a packet containing two pills. “Take these,” she said, giving you a bottle of water as well. You wanted to protest, tell her that you were perfectly capable of getting what you had left done, but as you looked at her, then across the room to Casey, you realized that not only would any attempt be futile, you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in your bed and stay there until you didn’t feel like this anymore. You nodded.

Casey’s voice came from behind Alex, gentle. Still raspy, but more than quiet, sympathetic, understanding-- gentle, a tone meant to be heard from close by and listened to in earnest. “Please take care of yourself.”

Who could refuse that?

---

Alex accompanied you on the cab ride home. Casey genuinely had work she had to finish, and neither of them was about to let you ride your bike or take the subway in your state. You lived in Brooklyn, but close enough to the courthouse that you didn’t feel too guilty about accepting her help when she offered. You tried to make conversation, but you were simply too tired to talk much, and as the sun finished setting, you arrived at the townhouse. Ashley and Ramin lived in the three bedroom unit on the first floor while you lived in the one bedroom unit on the second. It was really a glorified studio, the bedroom was just big enough for a queen-sized bed, the living room barely fit a couch, and the kitchen was mostly good for making tea; but that was why you had a key to your best friends’ apartment. You hesitated on the steps in the still warm air, considering if it would be a bad idea to ask Alex to come up the rest of the way with you, but she had clearly already made up her mind to do so (she had not bought all those supplies for nothing).

Your apartment was cozy, Alex thought as she placed the medicines and magazines and bottles of Gatorade in convenient spots in your tiny kitchen. You went straight for the bathroom, using what energy you had to change into pajamas, brush your teeth, and wash your face. Not much food in the fridge, lots of coffee and tea. A little table covered in papers and books; some law journals, some fantasy novels, some picture books. There were stuffed animals in a bin beside the couch, a couple clearly old enough to be yours. You had one of the fluffiest rugs she’d ever seen and enough throw pillows to drown in, and candles all over the place. Your walls were covered in art; some clearly original abstract pieces signed R.R, some prints from the MoMA, old post cards and family photos (only a couple of your siblings, but countless of Ashley and his family, dancers too), and kids’ drawings, all displayed together, given equal weight. It made no sense aesthetically, technically, but everything about the place screamed Caroline, so she found herself enamored with it.

You emerged from the bathroom with your hair tied on top of your head, wearing an oversized tee and fuzzy pants. It wasn’t your usual choice, but being sick had you feeling like everything around you needed to be soft and cuddly. Alex showed you where she placed everything she’d bought for you, but as she talked, your (maybe feverish) focus could only follow her beautiful blue eyes as they followed your own. You felt warmth, gratitude; you watched her seem concerned and adoring all at once. This whole scenario; Alex in your apartment while the stars were out, taking care of you, seeing you in your pajamas, sniffling and blushing, it made no sense when you thought about it. Yet, it seemed perfectly natural to you, having her in your place. Part of you wanted to kiss her then and there, pull her into your bed and try to get her to cuddle, but, of course, those were not thoughts you shared out loud. Instead, you expressed your gratitude as emphatically as your could manage.

“Get some sleep, Caroline.”

“I will. Alex, thank you.”

---

Alex made you take the following Monday and Tuesday off. Since she didn’t technically have that ability, you responded to her texts by telling her as much. Then, she got Jack McCoy to email you the same sentiments, and that, you couldn’t fight. You arrived at work on Wednesday refreshed, well-rested, and decidedly not sniffly, and she was only a little bit smug. She all but said “I told you so” when you said hello that morning-- but you very quickly shut her up by giving her a smile and an eye roll, taking pride and pleasure in the tiny bite of her lip you saw flash by as you returned to your desk.

That afternoon, you were happy to run into Serena Southerlyn on the courthouse steps, her leaving as you and Alex were returning (there was a case you were working together, you as second chair). She greeted Alex with a professional hug, you with a warm handshake. She had a glint in her eyes, something mischievous about her when she asked, after the usual workplace pleasantries, “you’ll both be there tomorrow, right? For drinks? Gillian said she had something to celebrate, I bet she got accepted to one of those PhD programs.”

“Casey and I will be,” Alex said, looking to you. You tucked a curl behind your ear, another habit of yours she’d noticed, when you were worried.

“I’ll certainly try,” you said, happy that you were now getting regular invitations to drinks, “I promised I’d help Ophélie’s mock trial team prepare for this weekend, she gets pretty nervous about them.”

“They have mock trial that young?” Serena asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cute too. A bunch of 12-year-olds in suits using legal language.” As you spoke, Alex understood a little better, Casey’s perspective on children. She chuckled lightly.

“Is she the prosecution or the defense?” asked Alex. You groaned in response.

“Don’t remind me. She chose defense specifically to spite me, and now I go to her school twice a month to teach her how to do it.”

“I think I like this kid,” Serena said. “But I really hope you can make it tomorrow.”

“I’ll do what I can,” you said, knowing you would likely be able to go, but not wanting to promise anything.

“Good,” Serena said as she started walking down the steps again. She turned around when she was struck with an idea. Alex had told her about her and Casey’s ideas, but, frankly, she felt like they were not moving fast enough, and having known them both for years, knew how they needed a push sometimes to go for what they wanted. You and Alex had only gone a few steps, so you didn’t miss the swoosh of blonde hair coming back towards you.

“I remembered,” Serena said, “ I was going to ask you, Caroline, are you going to any salsa nights again soon?” You looked taken aback as she clarified, “I’ve wanted to pick it back up for a little while. I was going to ask last time but the conversation moved too fast.”

“You dance salsa?” Alex asked, blindsided. Serena nodded, an implied obviously in her expression. “When did you learn?” She asked again, knowing that Serena’s upbringing had been astonishingly similar to hers as far as old money and conservative attitudes went.

“Study abroad.”

You let it be quiet for a short moment, seeing Alex and Serena communicate with looks, something panicked in Alex’s and something scheming in Serena’s. You filed the moment away to think about later.

“Yes, actually, I think I’m going to one on Saturday, in Brooklyn as usual,” you said, testing the waters of their reactions. “Ashley’s still on tour so I was going to see if one of my old teammates would want to go with me,” you said. Alex squinted her eyes slightly, Serena knit her fingers together as you spoke. “But if you would like to, Serena,” you decided to just go for the invite, “we should go together.”

You thought you saw a flicker of jealousy from Alex when Serena enthusiastically accepted your invitation. You couldn’t be quite sure, but it was enough hope to leave another little piece of you burning.

---

@addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @sweetprentiss

remindr to sign up for my tagłist if you vvant to be tagged in these! (some of my keys are broken)

#svu #svu fanfic #law and order svu fanfic #alex cabot #casey novak #serena southerlyn #rita calhoun #casey novak x reader #alex cabot x reader #alex cabot x casey novak x reader #ofc #schemes!!!!#matchmaking #calex #calex x reader #please rb and 1ike

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m2jay · 4 years ago

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True Self [Genos x OC]

Ch.1 | ~The Task~ (pt. 2)

“Yes, Master?”

“I want to read damn it!” he whined.

Genos gave in and slid the mangas to him. “You’ll probably learn faster than me.” he admitted his defeat as he watched Saitama indulge into reading. As he read the first volume, Genos pulled out his journal. He wrote down about each volume’s art cover. Each one was unique and conveyed different emotions from determination to a certain goal and closeness between others.

“This manga is good!” he shouted.

Without another word, Genos prepared his futon to go to bed as he knew his master would just read the rest of the night. Wondering about his progression to more strength, he had his doubts on whether he’ll even improve. He wanted to get stronger and to be like his master, Saitama. Aside from that, he still had that goal of terminating that cyborg that killed his family and town. However, it seemed like that’ll all have to wait for he knew that it would take a while.

The next day, the two of them woke up to some sort of earthquake that was rumbling, or so it seemed. Genos placed his hand down to get a better feel on what was going on as he used his sensors. He sensed 4 figures quickly heading towards their direction. He warned Saitama about what was ahead as he jumped out from the patio. Carefully landing as best as he could, he cracked the floor when falling. His impact when making contact was too much for the floor to handle.

Genos looked up and found himself against a camel cricket, buff ladybug, and yet another mosquito mutation. He wasted no time and raised his arm to aim his blasters from his palms. “There was another. Where did they go?” he firmly asked as his blasters slowly lit up, ready to fire.

The camel cricket snickered. “Well, well. It’s not like we need to tell you, do we?” it chuckled cockily. Its irises shrunk, showing it had no intention of backing down. It jumped high to the walls and moved swiftly to different directions. Thankfully, it wasn’t as fast Sonic.”You humans have killed off us insects for far too long!”

“Tch.. Incinerate!” he yelled as he shot his blasters at the camel crick, but it didn’t go make contact with the mutated bug. The large ladybug blocked it with its elytra. “Damn pests!”

The buff ladybug laughed at the blonde cyborg’s attempt. “Foolish of you to try to set fire against us with this hard shell of mine!” it cocked. It’s voice was rather deep but had this goofy male tone with some femininity aspects It flew down with its closed wings to try to land on Genos head on, only to have him parry to the side.

From behind, the large mosquito swung its proboscis from behind. It slashed part of his shirt. “You don’t seem to have any blood, do you now?” it asked rhetorically.

Genos turned to run up the wall before the mosquito had the chance to pierce through him. He didn’t want to let Doctor Kuseno repair him so soon, especially in such a mediocre fight. Glaring at the creatures, feeling displeased. Patiently waiting for them to lunge at his direction, he calculated their movements strategically. Waiting for the moment of opportunity, he focused his attention to seem like he was watching the ladybug to trick the others that he had let his guard down.

The camel cricket pounced at him. Its claws moved forward as it tried aiming at the cyborg’s center, but Genos had anticipated it to an extent. He jumped and stomped on its abdomen, giving him a boost forward as he focused his attention to land a hard roundhouse kick at the strong ladybug.

The ladybug slid across the cement, leaving a trail as it went through the floor. It looked up at Genos angrily as he noticed him running to his direction at full force. Its femurs enlarged themselves as it seemed to bulk up its legs. Its sharp end thrusted to hit the persistent cyborg. However, Genos had grabbed the camel cricket’s leg from behind and swung it at the ladybug, making its blood splatter. The ladybug’s eyes widened and yelled, “You can’t get through me!” as it looked up at the mosquito, smirking.

The blonde cyborg took notice of its eyes' direction and briefly looked up. He was about to parry, but the ladybug smacked him to the side and made him hit a wall. He twitched as he carefully got himself out of the wall’s crease quickly before the large bugs could strike. As he watched the robust ladybug ram itself into the wall, he saw how it kept its feet down to have a piercing landing. It didn’t open its elytra because it was protecting its abdomen. Knowing this information, he made sure to keep the large mosquito at a far enough distance to give me some time.

“I do believe in survival of the fittest, but you won’t rule over us.” Genos told them firmly as he started blasting his hands at the mosquito flying around. “Incinerate!” He then noticed the ladybug was charging at him, The blonde cyborg smirked confidently as he flipped forward, making the bug run right under him. He quickly turned to hop onto it and began to heave at its elytra and soon yanked it off completely.

“AGH!!!” the ladybug screeched in pain out loud. Its legs shrunk and its wings began to appear more dense. It appeared to be transferring its strength to different parts of its body.

The mosquito made one last attempt to save its accomplice. It went towards Genos like a drill. “Bzzt!” It buzzed.

The cyborg looked behind him and calculated its speed. He gritted his teeth as he stepped to the side and sliced the mosquito’s proboscis. “You surely aren’t part of the House of Evolution.” he sneered.

The flying pest’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He quickly started flying away. “It’s not the e--!” it stopped yelling before it could finish it’s sentence.

Saitama came out and joined the fight. He looked at the mosquito with a dull expression. His hand was at the ready as he moved it back to get a proper thrust. “Mosquitos.. Suck!” he said before doing the final blow as the bug splattered its blood everywhere.

Genos soon dropkicked the ladybug’s wings, making them shatter into pieces. With the bug’s abdomen finally exposed, he raised both his arms up and held his hands together, lowering them down full force onto it. Finally, their extermination was over. He looked back at the bald man, who was flicking the bug blood off his gloves. “Sensei, these insects were strong, but not compared to the ones we fought before.”

“Huh.” he stared. “Oh! Like that Mosquito Girl I slapped when I found you.” he pointed out.

“Yes, exactly that.”

Saitama shrugged as he felt indifferent. “It is a problem, but they don’t seem to be as strong for now.” he then started walking away and motioning his disciple to follow. “We need to do our work out now.”

Genos obediently followed and jogged up to him to catch up. “Of course.” he responded.

They did the tedious training that Saitama had called intense. The 100 pushups, done. 100 sit-ups, done. 100 squats, done. All there was left was the 10km run left to do. Saitama had suggested that they run through the cities and make their way to that dirt track by the river where Sneck had attempted to do rookie crush him. The two headed to the river and ran around it until it was over.

Towards the end, out in the distance, Genos saw someone running in a hurry. He squinted for a bit only to see that it was Miyu. “Hey!” he yelled out to her to get her attention.

Miyu briefly looked back and saw the blonde cyborg calling out to her. Feeling uncomfortable and rushed, she dismissed him with no response and continued on her way with her stuff at hand. She felt this heavy weight weighing her down since her clothes were practically drenched. As she ran, she hoped for her clothes to dry sooner to feel less sticky.

Saitama turned his head to face where Genos’ attention was at. “Oi, who’re you yelling to?”

“It’s the new worker I was telling you about, Master” he replied.

The bald man’s eyes lit up with excitement as his fists by his chests shook. “The one with good taste?” he asked as he looked at her. Saitama noticed her clothes and the luggage and looked at her dumbfoundedly. “What an odd one she is.” he commented. “Oh! Genos!” he clapped his hands together as he had an idea. “Go get udon right now. Eating hot food when it’s hot tests your endurance!” he suggested. “Buy me one too.” Internally, he felt proud. To him, Genos had finally found something to learn that didn’t involve him too much, just a push. He then walked away and headed to King’s place.

“Master, what will you do?” Genos asked with slight concern, “What about your food?”

“I have a pressing matter to attend.” he lied as his true intent was to play video games. Saitama waved his hand back at him. “Just put it in the fridge for me or leave it at the table.” he said as he ran.

Genos watched him run off. He felt proud that his master was going after pressing matters. It was only fair for him to do the errands when he had nothing else to do as Saitama went off to do “more important” things. He jogged his way over there to train his robotic body. Flying there with his blasters seemed like a waste of energy to his core.

Miyu entered the noodle shop and quickly went into the bathroom to change into her uniform. She placed her damp clothes into a plastic as she wringed her hair with her hands. Exiting the bathroom, she casted her luggage aside and began her shift as she took orders and gave out the food.

Not long since her shift had started, Genos had entered and sat down. This time, he didn’t sit by the luggage. He took notice that Miyu was focused and waited for his turn.

Soon after, she had arrived at his table. “Hey! What can I get you?” she asked as she avoided eye contact, knowing she had ignored him earlier.

“I’ll do the challenge again like yesterday and get some yaki udon to go.” he asked.

She gave an awkward gritted smile. “Right away.” she assured as she headed to the kitchen to give the order. Peering out from the kitchen’s doorway, she saw that there weren't anymore people coming in that hour. She helped out in the kitchen to cook the food.

Genos watched her from the kitchen’s window. He wondered if she wanted her stuff back or if there was a specific amount of time he had to borrow it. His sensors detected a few more people standing at the doorway. He listened carefully and noticed them pointing at Miyu’s luggage. Knowing Miyu was still cooking, he got up and just brought it to his table instead. Looking back, the others went away as they realized he noticed their intentions.

After a few minutes, Miyu came out with his food and reward money. “He--.”

He pushed the money back to her. “No, take it. I have a request and something to ask.”

Unsure of what he had to say to her, she jumped to conclusions and apologized, “I’m sorry for not waving back at you earlier. I was in a hurry.”

‘Why’s she apologizing about that?’ he thought to himself. He shook his head and looked her in the eyes firmly. “I want you to be my teacher too.”

She looked to his side and noticed her luggage was next to him rather than the other table. ‘.. Is manga that big of a passion for him?’ she wondered.

He noticed her eye’s attention on the luggage. “There were some people outside that wanted to steal it.”

A bit shocked, she felt touched that he decided to watch over her stuff. “Thank you, Genos.” She looked behind him to see if there was anybody coming in. Letting out a long sigh, she sat down and placed the money into her luggage. “What do you mean by teacher.?”

“You seem to know a lot about things that could be interpreted.” he said. “If I had known I was going to be here so early, I’d have brought a pen and journal.”

Miyu had a puzzled look on her face and fanned her hand at him. “I’m sorry, but to write things down?” she shook her head in disbelief. “If you’re gonna learn about these things, take it to the heart and mind. I think the only things that are worth writing about from these would probably be quotes or ideas for things you may wanna do for later. Think of it like inspiration”

“Miyu! Do you not see any customers coming in right now?” her boss asked.

“No, sir!” she responded.

“They all must be watching Sweet Mask’s sitcom that just aired. “ he commented.

She shrugged and replied, “I wouldn’t know.” As she rummaged through her luggage, she pulled out another manga and gave it to Genos. “Personally, I’d prefer you coming in when we’re about to close, but since we’re not as busy today, this is an exception. This is ‘Pink Innocent.’ It might be more girly though.”

“What about the others I borrowed?” he asked.

“Return them to me when you can. You said it yourself that you come here often. Just don’t go spilling soup all over it.” she growled at him.

He quickly consumed the food to begin reading. However, before he got the chance to, he received a from the Hero Association for a meeting. “Miyu, I’ll be back later to learn.” he gestured his hand at her luggage. “Do you need this to be watched?”

Miyu raised a brow but also felt guilty. “You really don’t need to..”

“I’m coming back later anyways. Besides, it’s something that shouldn’t be laying around where it could get stolen.”

She hesitantly nodded because he had a point. “Alright..”

From that day on, after doing his routine with Saitama, he headed to the udon shop to pick up her luggage and later returned it to her for a manga session after hours. The two became acquainted with each other to an extent and Genos shared how he became a cyborg. It was rather intriguing, but it made her concerned.

As Miyu cleaned the tables and moved the chairs around, she heard footsteps. She looked up at the door. “Hi, Genos.” she welcomed him with a smile.

“Hello.” he greeted back as he took a seat at one of the tables.

After finishing the rest of the tables, chairs, and kitchen, she sat down across from him. “Let’s read.” she said happily.

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halloweennut · 6 years ago

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OC Backstory: Jitterbug

lmao ive been stressed lately so obviously i stress wrote 6 pages of drabble backstory. anyone here’s a look at my useless lesbian rottmnt oc, jitterbug, formerly known as a human named anais, becoming a mutant and ending up working for Big Mama. let’em rip

Oh fuck I forgot to mention but Marsha is @musekicker 's oc!

Anais shrugged on her coat with a huff, sharply pulling the tie at the waist tight. She was exhausted from the dance rehearsal and from the disappointment of another failed audition to move to the mainstage. She had been one of the background dancers for her company since she had signed on and it was starting to get boring. Scratch that, it became boring a year ago. But no matter what, the producers still hadn’t moved her up.

Before Anais could leave to make her way home to ice her feet and knees, she heard someone call out for her.

“Anais!”

She winced before turning around to face Stefan, one of the main dancers, abominable showboat, and annoyance to anyone in a skirt.

“Stefan,” Anais responded, forcing a grin and tugging her collar close together. “Is this going to take long? The L train won’t be running forever.”

“No no no,” Stefan said, stepping next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. She scowled at that, but fortunately he didn’t notice as he walked her toward the door. “I just want to talk about your audition.”

“Oh,” she deadpanned.

“Now, we all know you have the performing chops and the look to match,” he continued. “It’s just…”

Anais looked up at him as he trailed off. “Just what? If I’m so good then why haven’t I been moved yet?”

“You need to come out of your shell,” Stefan said, pulling her closer. “Come out of your cocoon, to speak.The producers think you’re holding back, and personally, I agree.”

“I am not in my own cocoon!” Anais snapped. Sure, maybe she lacked confidence at times, but she was not in a shell!

“I’m just stating my opinion and what the producers said,” Stefan continued, stopping them next to the door. “I’m willing to offer you some advice - perhaps over a cocktail?”

Anais scoffed, pushing him away. “No thank you. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home!”

And with that, she stormed out of the building and onto the street, quickly weaving through the crowd to her subway. Anais stewed with her thoughts, angry as she rode the train to mid-town for her transfer. Stepping back onto the street, she tried to think of every possible way to prove them wrong the next day and next audition, unaware of the odd green mosquito barreling towards her neck.

Before she realized what was going on, Anais felt a sharp pain in her neck that spread through her body. Gasping for air, she ducked into an alley, leaning against a wall and trying to force down the bile in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, slowly slipping down the wall as the pain concentrated in her head, sides and back. Anais heard the shred of clothing and what sounded and felt like bone popping - and then it stopped, and she was finally able to breathe again.

She opened her eyes, staring at the grimy ground below her hands. Everything seemed too bright, too vivid. She sat back on her feet, trying to get her bearings, and felt something brush the ground. Looking back, she saw a set of two filmy wings coming out of her shoulder blades, still wet and shining. Anais choked and scrambled for a puddle on the ground - anything to see herself in and see if what she saw was real.

But the her reflection did not lie, and only revealed more truth.

Anais barely recognized herself. Her skin was a pale teal-blue, eyes were larger now, taking up most of her face. Her nose was pointed and snubbed, looking almost proboscis like, and two antennae curled out of her head. The wings were flared behind her in surprise. Anais reached a hand to her face, another to the antennae - then she noticed the second set of arms and hands jutting from her sides.

Anais jolted from the puddle and to a garbage can, dry heaving in a panic.

“Oh god...what happened to me…,” she gasped. Anais stumbled back, unused to the weight of the wings. “I got to get home…”

She looked down at her new form and winced. Just getting back without gaining unnecessary attention. Thinking quickly, she tucked her new arms into her jacket, and pressed her wings the best she could to her back. Pushing her antennae down flush to her hair, Anais out her head down and booked it out of the alley and down to the stop for her train, barreling past people onto the train and hiding in a corner of the car until her stop. She flew out of the car and up onto the street as fast as her feet would go, and then into her building and up the steps, not resting until the door was shut behind her.

Anais breathed a sigh of relief, tossing her coat to floor. The relief didn’t last long - she couldn’t exactly go back to work or walk freely out in the city or her apartment building. Eventually she would be found out, and she couldn’t stay in her apartment forever. For one of the first times in her life, she was unsure of what to do. There was only real option - run and abandon her life as Anais. It was either that or...well, she didn’t know. Glancing around her apartment, she sighed with quiet determination. Anais quickly grabbed a small carry-on bag, filling it with her clothing, some jewelry and money and some other valuables. She threw on a long wool poncho that hid most of her new limbs and a hat that covered her face and antennae. Looking at her apartment one last time, she slipped out her window and onto the fire escape, and then into the back alleys of the city.

She didn’t stop moving until it was late and she had gotten uptown. From the look and smell of it, she was behind some sort of hotel restaurant. Clutching her stomach in hunger, she ducked behind a trash can, and watched the back door for someone to bring out scraps - she hated that this is how her life had become in a matter of hours. So much for not becoming a starving dancer on the street-

The door opened and someone walked out - but they weren’t human. Anais watched as a bright white bat walked out, stretching and cooling off from the busy kitchen she could spot just through the door. Anais couldn’t help but gasp - stopping herself with a set of hands a moment too late. The bat’s ears twitched and angled immediately toward her.

“Hey! Who’s there?” the bat demanded, starting to walk over. “This is private property you know!”

Anais winced and came out of her hiding spot. The bat stopped.

“A mutant. Let me guess, just turned?”

“Yes,” Anais said, rubbing an arm. “I’m sorry for trespassing - I just wanted to grab something from the...from the trash before moving on-”

“That’s disgusting,” the bat winced.

“I am very aware, but I can’t exactly walk into a bodega and ask for a ham,egg, and potato on a roll,” she replied, gesturing to herself. “You know, being a mutant with extra limbs and all.”

“Fair enough,” the bat shrugged. “Well come along, little bug. Can’t have anyone digging through the Hotel Nexus trash - boss would hate that.”

Anais nodded, grabbing her bag and turning back to head back where she came before the bat stopped her - “I said come along, meaning come with me. I hope the mutation didn’t affect your brain.”

“What.” Anais said. “You want me to come with you? Inside?”

“Yeah,” the bat said, opening the door wide. “Don’t be ridiculous and get in.”

Anais grinned and quickly entered before the bat could change her mind. “Oh thank you! I won’t stay long, I promise!”

The bat shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much to me. Just don’t like the idea of someone rooting through garbage for their next meal.”

“Still, thank you,” Anais trailed off, looking at the rest of the kitchen staff and the random waiter. They were all non-human! “Are you all mutants too?”

“Ha, no, most of us are yokai,” the bat nudged her over to a folding chair and pressed a bread roll into her hands. “Spirits. We’ve been living in New York longer than any human. I’m Marsha, by the way.”

Anais hummed, biting into the roll. “Thank you again, Marsha. I really appreciate it.”

Marsha nodded and returned back to her station. Anais watched the her and the kitchen work, running to and fro across the floor and into the main rooms of the hotel. She finished her bread roll, shedding her poncho and folding it on her lap. Her new arms were still taking time to adjust, at least she was used to the wings. But she felt out of place there in the kitchen, dance shoes and torn outfit sitting in the corner.

“Marsha,” Anais began, “do you know if the hotel is hiring? I’m not a cook but I have the spare hands to waitress.”

Marsha spared her a glance, giving her a better once over. “Unfortunately no spots are open here. The wings might be an issue running around a kitchen.”

“Then housekeeping?”

“House staff is all yokai - gets done in a snap.”

Anais lowered her head, antennae drooping.“Shit.”

“Well, what did you do before? You look like a dancer, or did you do some other weird human job?”

“I am a dancer, actually. Sing too,” Anais looked up, alert. “And I can’t go back to my company either - Is there an opening for something like that here?”

“More or less,” Marsha responded, chopping a bar of chocolate with quick, repetitive motion. “Big Mama - our boss - is looking for some sort of entertainment out in the bar between Nexus battles and in general.”

“I can do that! All four hands down!” Anais chirped, standing up and throwing her poncho behind her. “Where can I go see her?”

Marsha laughed. “You can try to. But don’t get your hopes up, sweets. She’s an...odd one, but she is fond of dancers.”

“So...I have a slight chance?”

“Slight. Go to a security guard, tell them Marsha sent you and you want to talk to Big Mama.”

Anais smiled wide, grabbing her things. “Thank you again! I owe you, Marsha!”

The bat nodded at the fly who weaved her way through the kitchen and out the double doors. A security guard was easy to find - tall, imposing and in a suit. A quick mention of the name and the request led her to an elevator. The porter hit one of the buttons at the very top, and up they went. Anais fidgeted, nervous, excited, and suddenly self conscious about the rips in the fabric around her arms. Once the doors opened, however she pushed it all down. The guard led her down an ornate hallway to an equally ornate door.

“Stay here,” was the only thing he said before slipping into the office. Anais stood there, trying to smooth out her hair and outfit as well as she could before dropping her bag and poncho on the floor behind a potted plant. The guard appeared a moment later, and opened the door for her, gesturing into the room. Anais thanked him and entered, pushing her nerves down once more as the door clicked shut. The room was a rich purple and gold, but dimly lit, save from the large window at the opposite end behind an elegant mahogany desk and tall, lilac chair.

“Come in, come in! Don’t (made-up word instead of linger) at the door, dearie!” the chair spun around to face her, revealing who Anais, while boggled at the random word, figured was Big Mama. “I’m told you’re looking for employment opportunities?”

“Oh- oh yes! I am,” Anais stepped closer until she stopped in front of the desk proper. Big Mama’s gaze made her feel not only like she was under examination but also very much more akin to a fly near a web. But she had dealt with that feeling most of her life, so coming from her it was nothing if not vaguely attractive. “Marsha down in the kitchen told me you were looking for someone to do entertainment at the bar, and well, I’m your girl for it.”

Big Mama stood, walking around the desk and looking Anais up and down. “I see.”

“I was - I’m a dancer, most types, and I’m not too bad at singing either,” Anais continued as Big Mama walked around her, heels clicking and eyes going over her. “And since I mutated today, I can’t exactly go back to my old company - not that I was going places there anyway.”

“Not a place for pretty little bugaboos now, was it?” Big Mama came to a stop in front of her, pressing a finger against her chin to raise Anais’s head. The fly shook her head. “My hotel, however, might just be a perfect fit for you.”

“You’re giving me the job?” Anais couldn’t believe her ears! Big Mama laughed, stepping back around the desk.

“For now - there will be just a teensy-weensy probation period, of course, to make sure you do perform to my expectations,” she said, pulling out what appeared to be a contract. “But you won’t let me down, will you?”

“No! Not at all,” Anais sat down on one of the chairs, taking the contract and a pen with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I’m here for your entertainment.”

Anais quickly lowered her eyes down to the paper to avoid her boss’s amused gaze - of course, her new boss had to be her type and of course she had to make a casual advance. As she went to sign it, she became aware that she couldn’t sign Anais anymore. Part of her remained, but...there was a part that screamed of being entirely new. With steely resolve, her new self was newly named with a flourish of the pen. Big Mame took it back, scanning it over.

“Welcome to the Grand Nexus Hotel, Jitterbug,” Big Mama held out an elegant hand to shake. Jitterbug smiled and took it, and so the fly began to work for the spider.

#jitterbug #rottmnt oc #rottmnt #i'm not happy with the end but w/e

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tisfan · 7 years ago

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Only a Matter of Time

Name of Piece: Only a Matter of Time Square Filled: T4 - Aliens made them Do It Also on A03 Rating Explicit Warnings: Anal sex, Stephen’s magical lube, angst, captivity, aliens made them do it, sex pollen, discussion of weird mating rituals, crack taken seriously Summary: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Captured by aliens, mistaken for a mating pair, Tony and Stephen find themselves having the universe’s most awkward honeymoon.

Created For : @tonystarkbingo

Tony Stark woke up to at least a half dozen or more different species of alien staring at him. He shrieked, scrambled backward, and had to stop to stare. The brain takes a lot of shortcuts so that we aren’t constantly looking at trees and trying to identify them, so it puts them all in a box marked Tree and lets us sort it out later if we care to.

Tony had never seen these things before, and they were all so vastly different from one another that his brain couldn’t stop picking out the little details.

That one had huge eyes -- or what he thought might have been eyes, he couldn’t really tell, since they didn’t have irises or pupils the way human eyes did, and who knew, maybe they were radar dishes -- in the top of its face. That one had a million little wormy squirmy things on its chin that wriggled in the air around it. He wasn’t even sure that thing -- looked like a crude salt carving of a whale, by someone who didn’t know what a whale looked like, and was tiny, besides -- was alive until it moved away.

“Whaaaaaaaa?” Tony babbled, pushing away until his back fetched up against something solid, which made him scream again and roll the other way. He’d hit something -- a tree, maybe? If Trees were pink, and scaly.

“Good morning,” someone said. “So good of you to join me.”

Tony’s head whipped around so fast he thought he might have given himself whiplash.

Dr. Stephen Strange was floating, a few feet above mauve (moss? Grass? Mushrooms? Jesus Horatio Christ what even the fuck?) ground, wrists resting on his knees, legs crossed.

“Gimme an elevator pitch of what the fuck, would you, Strange?” Tony managed to even sound like he wasn’t panicking -- he had a lot of practice -- but it was probably too late for that.

“So far as I’ve been able to gather?”

God, there was something unfair about the fact that Strange had already had time to compose himself, figure some shit out, and be composedly meditating midair (had Tony mentioned that he hated that?) before Tony woke up. One of these days, he’d like someone else’s dignity to be laying in pieces on the floor.

“Speculations allowed, doctor.”

“Welcome to the Yu!anz Zoo,” Strange said. Tony wasn’t sure how he said that word, which sounded a little like the sorcerer spat up a tiny bomb in the middle. “We’re the new special exhibit. They’ve never had humans before.”

“And you haven’t done your bibbity-bobbity-boo schtick why, exactly?”

“Can’t,” Strange said. “I can sling from one side of the room to the other, but it bounces anything further away. I’m attempting to study the shielding they’ve got on the habitat, but it’s all mirrors. All I can see… is us.”

Tony gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “I thought you were supposed to be the greatest sorcerer in the universe.”

“In the known universe, which is to say, the part that’s known to us,” Stephen said. “Also, I’m still new at the job.” He made a face, a little tip of the eyebrow and mouth that Tony should not have found cute, and did anyway.

“Always made jokes about being a zoo exhibit,” Tony said, looking out at the gawkers. There were entirely new sorts of aliens there, now, staring and pointing and rapping on the glass. “Remind me to not do that again.”

(more under the cut)

There was no way out.

The glass, Tony discovered, wasn’t glass at all. It was some sort of force repelling shield. If he threw a thing at it, it bounced it back with equal force. In fact, one of the few times he even saw their captors, he’d nearly killed them both by throwing something with enough force that the shield bounced it to the back of the enclosure, which in turn, bounced it back. The ricochet effect forced Strange to tackle Tony to the ground and cover them both with the Cloak of Levitation while the damn rock ping ponged around like a deranged kangaroo.

“Well, this is comfy,” Tony said, mostly to cover his embarrassment at fucking up. Hard. And speaking of hard…

“Stop wriggling,” Strange snarled, teeth clenched.

“Seriously, Stephen?” Tony wriggled anyway, mostly because he could, and there wasn’t anything else to do while they were wrapped up tight in Strange’s semi-sentient shoulder-wrap.

“Stark--”

“You are…”

“Shut up and stop moving.”

“You know, I don’t think I will,” Tony remarked, casually, letting his hips rock up into that comforting warmth. “But, I mean, I suppose you could shut me up if that--”

“I hate you,” Stephen said, almost utterly without emotion, which would have been more convincing, probably, except that most decidedly wasn’t Stephen’s wand poking him in the thigh, and then that was absolutely Stephen’s tongue in his mouth.

Who only knew how far that might have gone except their captors entered the habitat and yanked the projectile to a stop. One of them poked at the cocoon that was protecting Tony and Stephen, and the Cloak leapt away, smacking at alien… oh, god, had they just been poked with an alien proboscis? Ew, gross.

Their captors -- or, at least, the aliens that kept the habitat, were like giant, humanoid mosquito/moths, bulby eyes, long curled up nose that whipped out to poke and prod at them. They had thick, feathery antennae and wings that tucked close to their backs, like cloaks. Tony and Stephen found themselves backed into a corner by something impossibly strong and wrong to look at. Literally, staring at the alien hurt Tony’s brain in places it did not want to be hurt.

Every time Tony tried to dodge around the thing, or push it away, it returned him to his corner like a misbehaving child.

Finally, after the other one had cleared out all the rocks, their captor fluttered its wings at them, dusting them both with gray powder.

Tony blinked a few times and slumped to the ground. “F’ink, take… nap, now.”

“Yeah,” Stephen said.

Tony woke up, curled in Stephen’s arms, the cloak tucked around them like a blanket.

“Okay, sunshine, this is just getting weird,” Tony said, but he didn’t bother to move. Stephen was warm and for a guy who sometimes looked like a collection of sticks wrapped in wizard gear, he was soft and comfortable. He ran one hand over his hair, scrubbing at his scalp, and then-- “What is that?”

Stephen sighed and grabbed Tony’s wrist, holding it tightly. “It’s a bio monitor,” he said. “Do not try to pull it out, or scratch at it. You’ll just hurt yourself.”

“Do you have one, too?” Tony didn’t know how Stephen could possibly know that, but the feeling that there was something -- another thing -- inside him that he didn’t ask for filled him made him want to puke, want to dig it out, even if it hurt, even if it killed him, even if…

“Shhh, shh, I know Tony, I know, I’m here, it’s okay. They’ll take it out again, I promise,” Stephen was cradling him, holding him in a warm, comforting grip.

“Do you have one, Stephen?” Tony demanded.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” Stephen said. The wizard flinched, and Tony realized he was squeezing Stephen’s hands, desperately tight, hurting scars and injuries that would never quite heal.

“Why?”

“Um. They think you’re the female,” Stephen said, slowly.

“What? How do you even know that?” It took him a while to let go of Stephen’s hands anyway, and to not instantly reach for the foreign thing he felt in the back of his skull.

“I’ve been studying them,” Stephen told him. “Their language is really confusing, but I think I have it down, now, at least enough to get the basics. And they think you’re the egg-carrying member of our species.”

“WHY?”

“Well, first of all, you’re a lot smaller than I am,” Stephen said, tipping his head to one side. “Tony--” Stephen pressed a finger to Tony’s lips. “I’m six foot two and a half inches. You’re five eight on your good days. Don’t argue with me, height is fact. They don’t see differences in our facial features.”

“Awesome facial hair bros, yeah,” Tony said.

“But they’re bugs. Big ones, smart ones, but, you know. Insectoid. We don’t… they don’t recognize our primary or secondary sexual characteristics. And I have wings, and you don’t.”

“They think your walking security blanket means you’re a guy? Capes are so gay, Stephen.”

“Well, so am I, so it’s okay,” Stephen said.

Tony tipped his eyebrows. Well, he guessed he’d asked for that. “So, what then? They think I’m female and delicate and I need monitoring?”

“They’re waiting for you to get pregnant.”

“THE FUCK?”

“I mean, I suppose we could tell them you’re well past child-bearing age--”

“Excuse me, Mr. Sorcerer Supremely grey?” Tony spluttered. Was Stephen calling him old?

“Just because some of us don’t like sitting in a salon chair,” Stephen pointed out. He had the actual nerve to flick his fingers through that grey streak on one side of his temple. It should not have been attractive. “Face it, I’m taller, and younger, and I have a cool cloak.”

“You only wish you were as cool as I am,” Tony said. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. I’m calm. Tell me what the fuck is going here, Stephen, I am begging you.”

If he hadn’t been quite so close, he might not have noticed the way Stephen’s lips parted and his eyes darkened.

“The really important thing is… it won’t take them too long to realize their mistake. And then they’ll trade us out for a proper, reproducing couple,” Stephen said. “Which kinda sucks, but then, we keep dolphins in fish tanks and make them do tricks, so I can’t really criticize too much. And trying to war with them would be a mistake.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I am the sorcerer supreme, even if I am new at the job. And my abilities are fully functional, inside the habitat. So, I’ve been living these next four or five days, learning something new every time. I can… sort of understand their language. It’s complicated, and the writing is horrific. The little antenna on their heads makes it pretty much impossible for us to communicate with them. I don’t even really think they think we’re sentient, at all. Kinda like… we are to bees, they are to us.”

“Are you telling me bees are sentient?”

“Hive mind is a pretty incredible thing, Tony,” Stephen said. “I mean, on an individual level, no, bees aren’t sentient. But a hive of bees… well, they’re pretty damn smart, actually.”

“So, what, we wait until they figure out that we’re both dudes, and, they let us go?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stephen said.

“How long is that going to take?”

“Couple months,” Stephen said, nodding his entire body back and forth.

“A couple of--”

“Shh. Stop it.”

Tony glared.

“Time stone, Tony,” Stephen told him. “When we get out of here, I’ll just roll us back to a few minutes after we left. No one will even know we were gone. Think of it as… extended leave of absence.”

“I am going to die of boredom in a couple of weeks, Stephen.”

“No, you won’t,” Stephen said, and then he was blushing, and wasn’t that interesting.

“Okay, so what aren’t you telling me?”

“It would take a while to cover all of those things,” Stephen said. “And… really, this day is going really well. If I tell you right now and you freak out, I’m just going to have to start this day over and I’ve already done this one like five hundred and six times already.”

“You do that a lot,” Tony said.

“Yeah. There’s a reason why I’m not sane,” Stephen said, and his chin wobbled a little. “Mostly, I store all the alternative timelines in a memory box.”

“You’re getting very Harry Potter right now.”

“Magic is imagination given form,” Stephen said. “I stole that from Harry Potter because it fucking works. Otherwise, I’d remember dying over seventeen million times, when bargaining for the fate of our dimension, 14 million times dying because of Thanos. No one, no mind, could survive that. I forget. Because I have to. So, if I tell you, you have to not freak out, okay? I need to keep these memories until we get out of here, and you need to help me. Okay?”

Tony couldn’t forget a thing if he tried. Every detail of Afghanistan, every detail was etched in his brain, he relived those moments in his nightmares. He couldn’t imagine what dying hundreds of times must feel like, what sort of burden that had to be. “Stephen…” He nodded. “You can count on me.”

“I know,” Stephen said, and he smiled, sweet as honey. He cupped the side of Tony’s face with one battered, scarred and crooked hand. “I know I can.”

“What is this?” Tony reached into the box that had appeared -- literally, appeared. Their keepers had been feeding them like this for at least a week now, so Tony wasn’t as startled as he was the first time, but this box didn’t contain the food pellets. (By the way, so leaving a bad yelp review. The food there was boring and repetitive, the same three or four round discs about the size of a hamburger patty, although they tasted more like generic, doritos that someone forgot to put the flavor dust on.)

Instead, there were a few… things.

Things that Tony couldn’t identify by looking at.

One of them sort of looked like a ball of string, except the string kept changing color, and he couldn’t quite track where the piece went.

“Enrichment activities,” Stephen said. He was doing the floating thing again. “They think you’re pining.”

“For the Fjords?” Tony wondered. He poked the string and the end of it jerked away from him like he’d insulted it, and dove into the writhing mass. It was like… a puzzle? Tony grabbed for the end, trying to figure out what it did.

The end bit had disappeared, and Tony started hunting for it. Each time he spotted the end and attempted to secure it, he felt a little jolt of satisfaction. Several hours passed before he realized that he had, actually, been entertained with the puzzle. By the time he finally found both ends, he was actually feeling really good. Soft and--

“Stephen, is this thing making me high?”

Stephen glanced up. “It’s stimulating the part of your brain that makes endorphins, so, yes,” Stephen said. “Brace yourself, that’s not all we’re going to be getting tonight.”

Tony barely had time to ask what that meant before he found out. The habitat lights dimmed, cheesy seventies porn music started playing, and the habitat was flooded with the scent of roses, chocolate and… oh, god, steak.

“What are they doing?”

“Trying to get you in the mood to mate,” Stephen confessed. And he was blushing, which was weird because--

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “Trying to get me in the mood,” Tony wondered. “Not us.”

“What little they know about humans comes from some of our television signals,” Stephen pointed out. “In almost all of our media, it’s portrayed that males are always ready, and the females need to be wooed.”

“They should try going to the annual Maria Stark Foundation ball, it’s like a feeding frenzy. I barely escape with my balls intact. I’m still annoyed that they can’t tell the difference between men and women. Some super advanced aliens they’re turning out to be.”

“Give them some credit,” Stephen said. “As far as they know, we could be like snails, and make little love darts to stab each other with in an exchange of sperm.”

“No stabbing,” Tony said. “I draw the line at romantic stabbing.”

“Or… some species of male octopus literally launch their penis at a potential mate,” Stephen said. “The female octopus being notoriously short tempered and apt to eat their mates.”

“There are times when I’ve considered that as an alternative to a messy breakup,” Tony said. “Bees. Bees are a good example of fucked up mating. The male bee explodes, to seal off the queen’s reproductive channels, otherwise, other males could dig out the sperm and mate instead. Talk about your dedicated daddy.”

“Snakes. Female snakes have it particularly bad,” Stephen said. “There’s one species whose mating scent is so strong, it can attract males from over a hundred miles away, and they all pretty much jump her in tandem, a little orgy-ball of fuckery. Female snakes can be, literally, fucked to death.”

“That… sounds more fun than it probably is.”

“Especially for her,” Stephen remarked. “But humans aren’t much better. Human mating habits are weird,” Stephen said. “Almost as weird as the ridiculous premises around it for entertainment. It’s a waste of time.”

“So, you’re a hey, becky, lemme smash kinda guy?”

“Romance may not be dead, but it is frequently unnecessary,” Stephen said. “Most people decide within a few minutes of meeting someone if they’d ever want to have intercourse. The rest of it is needless time wasting. Don’t you?”

“My playboy reputation was always exaggerated, and currently somewhat out of date,” Tony huffed, feeling insulted.

“I don’t mean you always get the sex,” Stephen said. “I mean, you look at someone across the room and think, even for a second, yeah, that one’s nice, I’d do that. Sex is a game of numbers. We’ve developed all this ritual around it, but our base, human biology is satisfied with passing along our genes to the most number of people, as quickly as possible. We like to pretend we’re thinking about it, or choosing to have multiple partners to increase our social standing, but it’s mostly just justification for the chemical stew in our blood stream, the monkey brain that says procreate and survive. It’s irrational, and trying to pretend we’re somehow above that… well, that’s just wishful thinking. Humans, individually and collectively, are a hot mess.”

Damn, that was both sexy and challenging. The sexy past was the way Stephen discussed a one night stand as basic biology, showing off a big, sexy brain. The logical part that always forgot that logic was just a mess of hormones and chemistry. For a doctor, a neurosurgeon, Tony would have expected Stephen to come down on the side of cold logic.

The challenge… “So, Mr. Wizard,” Tony said, as casual as he could manage. “What did you think when you first saw me?”

Stephen laughed, a soft chuckle. “We were a bit preoccupied at the time.”

“That’s dodging the question,” Tony said.

“Seems unfair for you to ask it,” Stephen replied. “What did you think?”

“Buddy, there’s like four people I’ve ever met that I wasn’t related to, that were on my Do Not Fuck, Ever list. Everyone else, I’m open to negotiations,” Tony said, stretching out, full length. “And I’ll tell ya, if they give me that steak that they’re pumping fumes for, I might be willing to fuck you.”

“I suspect they’d be more pleased with the activity if I were to…”

“Bang me like a cheap screen door?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“You get the steak… and some coffee would be great, and you can have the goods.”

“Tony, did that little puzzle go straight to your--”

“Does it matter, doc? You already said they’re not going to let us go until we prove I’m infertile to your wizardly dick. I’m hungry, I’m bored, and I happen to be really fucking horny right now. So, if we gotta do it anyway, let’s just do it.”

“And I thought that I believed romance was dead and unnecessary,” Stephen commented, idly.

“Aw, baby, do you want me to romance you?” Tony was still smirking. His pants were a little uncomfortably tight, and Stephen was looking better to him with every minute. He was pretty familiar with pharmaceuticals, and he knew, mind you, that he’d been hit up with some sort of high end aphrodisiac, but the part of his brain that rarely shut up was spinning it around. It wasn’t like having sex with Stephen would be a hardship. The man was attractive and had been weirdly kind and comforting the whole time they’d been imprisoned, keeping Tony sane and safe.

There was something romantic about it.

Tony eyed the man again, noting the blush and the way Stephen avoided his eyes. “You do… you want me to romance you,” Tony said, the realization coming over him like a tidal wave. “This… you…” Tony made a little circle in the air with one hand. “You care. This matters to you.”

“Of course I care,” Stephen said. “You’ve been living in here with me for… what, two week, in this time line? I’ve… been reliving each day multiple times. In my head, Tony, we’ve known each other for years. Inside two weeks, this has been the longest relationship of my life. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, Tony. Closeness does. I know you better than anyone. Probably better than you know yourself.”

Tony swallowed. Usually people got fed up with him after a few days, and all the money and fame hadn’t been worth it for many. He drove Pepper crazy on a regular basis until she’d finally decided that, much as they loved each other, it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t be his mother and his girlfriend and his ceo and his personal assistant and his babysitter all at the same time, and he knew he was unfair to ask it of her. How-- “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have we been together? How long have you known?”

Stephen reached out then and touched his cheek. “I’ve loved you since Titan. I didn’t throw all the memories away. I couldn’t.”

Tony turned his face and kissed Stephen’s mangled palm. “Are you going to erase today?”

Stephen was even closer, close enough for Tony to notice that his eyes were actually both blue and green at the same time, close enough to feel the heat seeping off his body. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

Their lips met in a fevered kiss. Stephen’s mouth was demanding, fierce, a counterpoint to the way his hands moved, hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe he had the right to touch.

Stephen’s hands dragged heated trails down Tony’s skin. He struggled with the fastenings and Tony had to suck air, while he helped. The Cloak of Levitation hovered over them, and Tony was almost imagining that it disapproved, but then it flapped off, giving them some degree of privacy.

Tony laid back on the soft floor of their habitat as Stephen touched and explored, kissed and tasted. His teeth grazed over Tony’s nipple, sending a flush of heat down his spine. Another kiss, this one deeper, longer, slower, a mating of lips and tongues that was profoundly intimate. Sensual. Tony considered himself an expert on kissing; Stephen’s technique might have been somewhat clumsy, but there was an earnestness to it, a sweetness, that had been lacking in many of Tony’s other kisses.

There was no doubting Stephen’s desire, not just for bodies, but that he’d had this secret for so long, and he’d never said anything, he’d never made a big deal out of it. There was something innocent about it, enough that Tony wondered if he was doing Stephen any favors.

“How many times have we done this?”

Stephen rutted against him, pulling him in for another kiss. “Not enough,” he said, mouth brushing over Tony’s with exquisite sensation. “Never enough.”

Tony could believe it had been a lot; Stephen seemed to know without being told where Tony’s most sensitive spots were. That was distinctly unfair, because who would have guessed that Tony would go weak at having the small of his back caressed with light strokes, or a warm mouth licking at the inside of his elbow could get him to moan wantonly.

Also, he didn’t know any of Stephen’s, and had to content himself with being a keen observer and eager enough to explore. Still, Stephen decidedly had the upper hand, and that didn’t even include all the magic stuff, like being able to conjure lube with a quick muttered word, or, at one point, adding extra arms and mouths. Tony had participated in any number of multiple-partner sex adventures previously, but there was something different about having one person touching and kissing him so many times.

Stephen could capture Tony’s mouth, while holding his legs spread wide. The sensation of a hot, wet throat to fuck was vivid and real and intense, but when Tony managed to pry his eyes open to look, there was only a blueish, ghostly impression. He was held down and carressed by multiple hands, while Steve’s own, fragile and thick-fingered and trembling, touched Tony’s face, brushed through his hair.

“And I thought I had good tricks,” Tony said, and then, because everything was a contest, as far as Tony was concerned, and he had to score some points, he took Stephen’s hand, the real, flesh one, and drew his index and middle fingers into his mouth, sucking them lightly.

All of Stephen’s boojums disappeared at once, and they settled back onto the ground with a bump -- when had Stephen started levitating them, Tony would have thought he would have noticed that?

“What? Off limits?” Tony took his mouth off Stephen’s hand, but kept it cradled between his own. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Stephen said. “No, it doesn’t, well, yes, it hurts, but my hands always hurt, it’s not anything particular that you’re doing. I’m just--”

“Not used to people touching anymore, I get it,” Tony said. He ran his thumbs across Stephen’s palm, stretching a little at the scars there. “You are so beautiful.”

Stephen did start tugging at his hands, then, the fingers curling up defensively. “I used to be,” he said. “A surgeon’s hands.”

“You’re not ugly because of your scars, Stephen,” Tony told him. “Scars are… the roadmap of our lives. They tell people what we’ve suffered. The worst ones are the ones we can’t see, that we carry here--” he tapped his own chest, covered and matted with ropy scars from where the arc-reactor had been. “But you still have beautiful hands, Stephen.”

Stephen sucked in a breath. “I have known you for thirty million lifetimes, and you still surprise me, Tony, with the depths of your compassion.”

“It should,” Tony told him with a wink. “Given that I’m not supposed to have any, at all.” It was rare that he would take any such conversations about his good points seriously; Howard had spent a lifetime pointing out all of Tony’s mistakes to the point where Tony owned everything, presented it all up front in his showman manner. If he presented his heart, already bleeding, it was rare the person who would continue to stab. Not unheard of, but rare. There were always people who needed to score points by making someone else feel small. There was something unsatisfying to a critic to be answered with “yes, I know” when they’d taken such efforts to craft an insult. It was petty, but Tony would admit to being petty. Tony knew how to deal with insults; he had a long list of character flaws.

What he didn’t know how to deal with was sincerity and compliments. Compliments themselves were easy; everyone who ever wanted something from him would shower him with whatever they thought he wanted to hear.

But the combination of knowing that there was nothing Stephen wanted from him, and that he was perfectly in earnest. Well, that was harder to hear.

The two of them stared at each other, a long moment, gauging the other’s emotional state, the depth of sincerity, and then, “I think if I don’t kiss you right now, I might die from it.”

“Drama queen,” Tony accused, fondly.

“Drama wizard,” Stephen corrected, and then they were kissing again, a desperate, greedy, clinging sort of kiss to say everything with bodies and lips and tongues that they didn’t know how to say with actual words.

Stephen stroked Tony’s cock a few times, this time with his own hand, not playing with magic tricks and distractions, but just loving him.

Tony arched into it, moaning. “Please,” he said, breathless, running his own hands down every bit of pale skin he could reach until he ended with his hands firmly on Stephen’s ass, pulling them together, feeling the slick rut as their cocks aligned and glided together and it was the best tease, the best feeling.

He hooked his legs around Stephen’s thighs and the friction for even better, the heat between them growing. And the whole while, Stephen kept kissing him, kept returning to his mouth as if to hone his skill, to taste and know and breathe in every bit of Tony that he could get.

He didn’t stop kissing even when he was pushing at the opening to Tony’s body, getting him ready -- Tony could forgive him for the magic lube, because that shit was amazing -- even if it did get a bit sloppy. Tony loved it. Wet, heated, open-mouthed kissing, tongues that slid together and then apart. Little nips along his lip. A smear of dampness across his cheek and chin, and all the while, Stephen was breathing harder and making these delicious little sounds.

“Are you sure?” Stephen asked, still working Tony open with one hand.

“Stephen,” Tony said, touching his face, his cheek, that adorable little beard, running a thumb over Stephen’s lip. “I want you with every fiber of my being, you cannot get more enthusiastic consent than this. Give it to me.”

Stephen pressed against the ring of muscle and then, slowly, slid in. Tony shifted, threw his head back, struggled for a moment to relax. Stephen’s cock was lovely, long and slender and somehow as graceful as the man himself. He heard a sharp gasp of pleasure and realized it was his own, before Stephen started to move in him, on him, over him. Stephen’s mouth opened, as if to catch the gasp, and those obscenely beautiful lips fluttered over Tony’s in a soft, ghosting kiss.

Something about that tenderness got Tony even hotter. He grabbed a handful of Stephen’s ass and impaled himself on that gorgeous cock. Everything about the wizard was so much more than Tony had expected, he had to breath, deep and steady, a few times, to regain some equilibrium.

The push and pull of lovemaking was organic, natural, the way his body always urged him to move and grip, to roll his hips and to show his throat. The way his hands would grasp the blankets to hold himself down. All the same, all the way it always was.

And yet, at the same time, so new and fresh that Tony’s very skin ached, that he felt like a snake, peeling its scales and showing something new and shiny underneath.

Stephen alternated, deep, heavy thrusts and slow slides and quick, shallow movements, until they found themselves in the best possible rhythm, in which their heart beats and breaths aligned, until they were lost in each other’s gazes, until the world vanished and everything was feeling and sensation and love.

Stephen seemed to be everywhere around him, touching his hair, kissing his throat, gripping his ass to bring him closer.

Their bodies were heated, slick, and Tony could no longer tell where he ended and Stephen began. He stretched, reaching for his pleasure, wanting it, wanting to feel himself clench down on Stephen’s glorious dick, and then--

“Oh!” he rocked, taking as much of Stephen as he could and…

“Tony!”

When it was over, Tony found himself chasing his breath, Stephen a warm, heated weight on top of him, not quite crushing him into the ground, but close. It should have been suffocating, but it wasn’t. He kept his leg hooked around Stephen’s back, not wanting to let go, wanting to stay there, locked together. They lay there for a long while until their pulses slowed and the world came back into focus around them.

Tony had never really had a vacation before. Not a nice, long one. Even when he’d tried vacationing before, he always found himself working, or fretting because he wasn’t working. Stephen’s reassurances that they wouldn’t lose any real time, in their real lives, made the whole thing feel just a little surreal.

“You sure you should use the time stone for something this frivolous?”

“Don’t make the same mistake Thanos did, Tony, of believing the time stones are only tools. They have their own agenda, their own purpose. There is a price to pay, the further off its path you take it. For now, the Time Stone and I walk the same road, and it helps me, as it can. I will know, when it is right to give it up.”

“You’re saying the time stone wants you to enjoy your honeymoon?”

They didn’t discuss much else that day, since Stephen decided to take Tony at his word, and they were soon too breathless and sweaty for deep conversation.

But there were days of conversation, while Tony learned the theory of sorcerery, and Stephen learned the basics of particle physics. They told each other stories of their not-entirely-dissimilar childhoods. Stephen reminisce about his medical residency, and Tony laughed through old tales from MIT and the trouble he and Rhodey used to get into.

Their keepers provided them with food -- and eventually, better food, which was nice, although, really, what sort of universe didn’t have coffee -- and enrichment activities, and all the comforts they really could want.

“I’m going to get spoiled and fat,” Tony was saying one night, laying with his head in Stephen’s lap while they explored the nearby stars with one of the enrichment devices. Looking at other planets and moons from the relative safety of the zoo was somehow pleasing.

It did still bother Tony that he wasn’t free, that he couldn’t just make a choice and leave, but it was comfortable captivity, and Tony needed it. He needed this little oasis of time and peace.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Stephen told him.

He woke early to the sounds of muffled sobs.

“What? What, Stephen, what’s wrong?” Tony was there, his hands on his lover.

“We’re leaving today, and I knew it would be soon, but--” The cloak was nudging at Stephen’s face and Stephen absently brushed it away. “Stop that.”

“It’s all right, though?” Tony asked, not really sure what he was asking. “We’re going to go home and everything--” He swallowed around a lump in his throat, the size of a tennis ball. “--you’re not going to let me remember. Is that the plan, Stephen, because I… I did not agree to this plan!”

“You have your life, Tony, back on earth, this was-- I’ll treasure this, but--”

“Don’t you fucking let go of me, you goddamn coward,” Tony spat. “What do you think this has been for me? A lark? Goddamnit, Strange, I love you. Don’t take that from me. Don’t steal this. Even if-- if you’re done with me, I don’t want to forget it.”

Stephen reached out one battered hand and caught the tears spilling from Tony’s eyelashes.

“Tony?”

“Did… I forget to tell you I loved you?”

“You did.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Tony said. “I will.”

“Tell me now.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll… okay, change of plans. We’re still leaving. But--”

“You keep me with you, right? I don’t want to forget this.”

“Okay. Okay, Tony. I’m sorry.”

“Damn well better be. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, you idiot.”

“Tell me again why I love you?” Stephen was laughing, his blue-green eyes bright.

“Because I’m awesome, and you have good taste,” Tony said. “And you know me better than I know myself, and yet, you still fail to recognize that I might love you back. Seriously, Stephen, why give me such relationship gold? I’m going to be mining that for years.”

Stephen smiled. “Yeah, yeah, you are.”

#tonystarkbingo #tonystarkbingo2018 #bingo fill #IronStrange #aliens made them do it

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moonmothmama · 6 years ago

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MEMOIRS OF A NUN ON FIRE

(Published in "The Outlaw Bible of America Poetry" (Thunders' Mouth Press))

“You are worldly, Sister Marie Philomene” The Mother Superior had said in the parlor Bent over me, tall, angular, aristocratic Like the silhouette of a praying mantis “Even your voice, its inflections—worldly”

At that I was to kneel on the spot Kneel with no excuses Blind obedience Drop to the floor like a swatted fly

Eyes lowered, lips closed I wiggled. My veil fluttered My knees bent a little Then locked I would not

Back straight, head erect My eyes wide, cool And I hope vacant I stared into her triangular face I turned, left Through the dim corridors of No time or season

In my room I reached Through the silence, and As if from a great height Watched my hands Take the scissors Begin to cut Name-tags off my veils Stockings, underwear Everything

All over the room Threads and scraps Of my name “Sister Marie Philomene” Like tiny white clouds Far beneath my feet

I knew I would leave that night Just walk out

Five years within this cloister An enclosure of silence Latin. Eyes fixed to the floor Black robes, medieval gestures In the most secret recesses A thousand daily deaths

At the end of the hall The life-size crucifix Christ’s bruised knee The level of our lips A well-kissed knee

Through these corridors We glide Through our own ghosts Muted light Fluid movements Everything clean Silent and clean

“I have loved, O Lord, The beauty of Thy house.”

But here things feel dirty Like in my dreams In the convent I do not dream Of the good sisters Each night it is a dark man Who follows me He is tall, thin And wears black. All black His half smile is repulsive He wants to kiss me Every night in my dreams

Sometimes, he removes my veil Runs his fingers through my hair Once he does kiss me I am frightened I tell another sister She says the dark man is myself

And then—the night I am seduced By God disguised as a fat black fly As a bride of God I am told To experience the Mystical Union I must make my mind empty- An erased blackboard I contemplate the blackness of space The millions of light years Between the stars I stretch my mind until it is No longer fixed anywhere I become the Bride of the Expansive Black I kiss it-- its deep silence

But it is difficult to Contemplate the Immensity While enduring a small Persistent itch

Daily I work shoveling The convent’s garbage Into the incinerator The flies and yellow jackets Are very friendly At times the golden insects Cover my black serge habit Like a jeweled mantle As flies circle my head

At first I do not know A fly has crept Into my ear to rest I suppose it has awakened Confused, and is trying to escape Lost deep within my ear canal It buzzes with mounting intensity Its buzz is as loud and wide As the universe I am contemplating Finally, I know it is not God But only a fly Or is it God disguised as a fly? Is it the buzz of God?

The fly buzzes With growing desperation As its delirium grows So does mine with the Frantic buzzing of That fly. That Fly?

When it emerges into my outer ear I open the side of my headgear And the fly flies out At this moment, this very moment I have my first orgasm I know what it is because I have felt the sensation begin once before While kissing my high school boyfriend While I wiggle on the pew I see it at the corner of my eye And enormous black fly It hangs in mid-air as if To look at me for a moment It is the most beautiful fly I have ever seen

But what did the nuns see As they sat silently behind me Everyone motionless Except one wiggling nun and A hovering fly besides her? I will never know No one ever mentions it No one ever mentions anything personal And if they do, what would they say? “Excuse me, Sister Marie Philomene, But did I see you having an orgasm During five o’clock meditation?”

***

Beat. Beaten. Beatific I am on my knees before the bed, the crucifix This particular night is exceptionally dark It is this night I am to understand I am a poet

Saturday night Time to whip myself again I wonder is Cardinal McIntyre doing this? But I will do it right this time Five years within the convent And I have not yet done it right Each time the hand that holds the chain Has exerted its own will

I say to the night “I will tonight I will beat myself until I bleed.”

My body, mind—one thing I raise the chain high up. Higher That way it will come down With greater force— To beat, to beat, to beat. To be beaten. Higher. Faster Body, mind, chain One thing. One will To strike repeatedly To beat to blood

It ends I run my fingers over My bare back There is blood For the first time– blood A small amount. But I did it

“Beautiful blood,” I say I remove my habit I run my fingers over the spot Yes. It is blood Beatific blood. Beatific spot

Slowly, I turn in awe to see it It, indeed, is beautiful But it, my beatific spot is A mosquito bite!

I stand in the center of the room Let loose a mighty laugh “Beatific mosquito! Beatific!” I, who have been the Bride of flies Have become the Bride of mosquitoes “Holy proboscis! Probe of fire!” (Didn’t Saint Rose of Lima Out among the mosquitoes So that they might bite her, Say their hum sounded to her Like a choir of angels?)

O Holy Night! The mosquitoes are quietly biting Little fly. Great night

If you would have looked Into the dark corner You would have found Philomene naked as if by the night A Philomene who no longer Hid her heart under crossed arms But who excitedly Held her breasts in her hands as if She was offering them to her beloved

Hers was a song of… No, it was deeper even It was a prayer As he priest mutters From the altar Holding up the Host Her heart thumping In this forgotten corner As she prayed

You would see her dare to Look at her own body In the stark black night Her body—golden, serpentine, Glowing cheeks, glistening eyes Crimson tongue in this night of Black fingers Her slick long body rising Rising in the blackness slowly Very slowly turning Turning in the unseeing Dreadful hole of night The night, its burning lips The night of kisses She danced. Naked, burning Bride of God

In the Grand Silence You could hear Philomene whisper “I am a poet.”

But I will always be a nun Always in my dreams I am a shabby nun There are flies Under my habit And my robes are in Bits and pieces I will always have An affinity for the extreme Even now I prefer the company Of a St. Francis of Assisi Taking his clothes off in public Or a St. Simeon Stylites Who sat for years atop a high column Or a St. Joan of Arc Who heard voices and Dressed in men's clothes

Even now I prefer to live among The poets, saints and mad ones Of Venice West

I know no other way But to strip and leap naked Into the Holy Fires

Burn. Burn. Must burn

--Philomene Long

#poetry #philomene long #i feel like i posted this on my main a long time ago #but #here it is again #one of my favorites

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megsblackfirewrites · 7 years ago

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Monsters in Indiana

Summary: When Ana got lost on the backroads near Bloomington, she was lucky to find such a nice young man to get her back on the right track. She knows that something is wrong, however, when she finds the same man crouching on the side of the road not too long afterwards with no recollection of who she is. Something is very wrong and she will be lucky to make it out alive.

Ana groaned as she watched the miles and miles of corn stretch on around her. She had no idea how she had managed to get lost, but there she was, lost in an Indiana backroad nightmare of a corn maze. She pulled over to the side of the road and rubbed at her face, growling and grumbling in frustration. Why people thought that planting so much crop was a good idea, she didn’t know. Last time she checked, having this many similar populations together was just begging for a terrible plague. Had people learned nothing from Ireland?

She glanced up from her brooding and blinked. There was a man crouching by the side of the road and looking over a small ear of corn. She turned her car off and slowly got out, not wanting to surprise a complete stranger in the back country. That was a good way to get killed. She slammed the door shut and the man looked up, bright blue eyes blinking quickly.

“Oh, afternoon, ma’am,” the man smiled as he got to his feet and dusted his hands off on his pants. “What brings you out here on this lovely day?”

“Lost,” Ana sighed. “I was supposed to be meeting my daughter at a house she just purchased with her friends. I must have taken a wrong turn and now I don’t know how to get to the highway again.”

“Oh, well, that’s simple,” the man laughed and waved a hand. “But I can see how you could get confused. They don’t label the roads very well out here. Okay, so,” the man smiled at her and nodded his head, “you’re going to want to continue down this road for about ten minutes, then hang a right at the first fork in the road that you see. Follow that for another half hour, then turn left. Follow that for about an hour and take an immediate left onto the highway. That should get you back on your way.”

“Thank you so much,” Ana sighed happily and held out her hand. “I owe you one, sir.”

“No problem, ma’am,” the man shook her hand firmly and bobbed his head. “Just call me Jack.”

“Ana,” she smiled before pulling away. “Thank you again, Jack.”

She waved as she hurried back to her car, started it, and drove off. Jack waved in her rearview mirror, smiling until she was around the corner. At the last moment, she saw a huge figure join Jack on the road, looking like a shadow before she spotted the red plaid shirt and faded blue jeans. She saw just enough of the two to see dark arms wrap around Jack’s waist before Jack’s eyes seemed to glow.

She blinked, but she was already going around the corner and they had vanished. She was tempted to put on the brakes and back up, but she kept going, unable to remove her hands from the wheel.

Ana slowed her car down and sat idling in the middle of the road. She stared at the man crouching on the corner and felt her heartrate start to increase. She turned the vehicle off, not afraid of anyone running into her; there hadn’t been anyone on the road for hours. She scrambled out of the car and hurried forward.

“Jack!” she shouted. “What is going on?”

The man looked up and rose, smiling nervously. “C-can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

“Did you send me around in a damn circle?” she demanded. “Do you think this is funny?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am,” the man said as he lifted his hands. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean, am I okay?” she demanded. “I just spoke with you twenty minutes ago! You sent me in a damn circle!”

Jack frowned at her before shaking his head. “Ma’am, I’d remember seeing someone like you,” he said. “I’ve been all alone out here for hours. No one else has been on this road.”

“Just tell me how to get out of this damn cornfield,” Ana snapped. “I don’t want to be out here after dark.”

“No, you certainly wouldn’t want to,” Jack agreed with a nod. “They’re dangerous. Who knows what might run onto the road. So, you’re going to want to follow this road for ten minutes….”

“And take the first right; you already told me that and it led me right back here,” she snapped.

“I wouldn’t have told you to go right, ma’am,” Jack shook his head. “You take a left onto McDowell Road and follow that for about an hour. Then, you take a left onto the highway.”

“Thank you,” she snapped. “Here’s to hoping I don’t see your freckled mug again.”

She stomped back to her car and drove off. Jack didn’t wave as she drove away. He clutched his gloves to his chest like a scared child and she could bet the man was crying as she left him behind. She might have felt guilty if the same large man hadn’t stepped out of the cornfields to wrap his arms around Jack’s waist.

She shuddered and tried to focus on the road as she felt herself speeding up. She had to put distance between herself and whatever Jack and his mysterious partner were.

Ana slammed on her brakes as she stared at Jack crouched on the side of the road and slipped the car into park. He was still checking corn, but now the setting sun was turning his golden blond hair an unsettling shade of red. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she cranked the wheel in Jack’s direction. Whatever he was, she was not going to fall for this ploy; three times in one day was not something to trust.

She revved the engine in warning before she popped the car into drive. Jack looked up and tilted his head to the side with that familiar smile on his face. It looked much eerier now that she was positive there was something incredibly unnatural about the man. She narrowed her eyes before putting her accelerator to the floor and sending the car forward with a wild lurch.

Blue eyes widened as she approached and the man started to rise. Something came tearing out of the cornfield at the last possible moments and struck the front end of her car. She was forced around Jack’s body, fighting with the wheel as she tried to straighten herself out. The car spun several times before coming to a groaning stop facing the way she had come.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she stared at the thing that was standing where Jack had been. It looked like something out of a horror movie with impossibly long limbs, stiletto sharp claws, an emaciated body, too many eyes, and a long tongue that flopped out of its gaping mouth like a twisted attempt at making a mosquito proboscis. It screamed at her, rearing up onto its spindly legs to show off its bony body.

She screamed and scrambled for the gearshift. Fists slammed down on the hood of her car, lifting the back end off of the road as another thing attacked her car. Where the thing that had been Jack was pale, this other one was black with patches of mangy fur that looked like its flesh was covered with scales. Its tongue lashed the air before stabbing down into the hood of her car.

Her foot hit the accelerator and she sped forward, pushing the black thing ahead of her. It scrambled to hold onto her car, snarling at her as its nails took huge gouges out of the hood of her car. She hit the tiniest of potholes and the thing vanished under the nose of her car. She felt it smashed into the undercarriage and get dragged backwards behind her.

She saw the broken black body tumble out from under her car as her tires chewed up gravel and forced her forward. The thing that had been Jack shrieked and galloped past her, dropping over the broken form and nudging it furiously. Ana didn’t waste time in waiting around to see if the thing was dead. She sped off as fast as she could, her pants soaked through with urine as her headlights lit up the dirt road.

The cornfield gave way around her and she went skidding out onto the highway. She screamed again and twisted the steering wheel, spinning the car around twice before she came to a stop in the middle of the road. She sat there panting for a moment before she drove the car to the side of the highway and turned her four-ways on.

Then, when she was certain that she was at least hard to miss, she slumped over the steering wheel and started crying.

“Are you alright?” Angela asked as she threw her arms around Ana’s neck. “You look horrible!”

Ana shook her head as she let herself be led over to the couch and sank down. Fareeha hurried to make tea, staring over her shoulder as the other two roommates carefully draped a blanket over Ana’s shoulders. She thanked them for their kindness, rubbing at her eyes as she swallowed.

The police had picked her up on the side of the road after she’d called 911 to report her attack. They didn’t treat her like she was out of her mind and that scared her even more. They had her car towed to a good garage and drove her to the hospital to check her for injuries. When they were certain that she was fine, they drove her through the countryside to where her daughter and her roommates were living.

When she had her tea, Ana told them about what happened to her. The young adults started at her in disbelief before Genji ran his fingers up into his lime green hair, glancing at Fareeha expectantly. Ana glanced at her daughter and Fareeha shook her head.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” she murmured. “Those…things…they rarely ever let their prey escape.”

“But Ana’s not white or racist,” Hanzo shook his head.

“There was that black family that was killed back in the sixties,” Angela pointed out.

“Do you care to tell me what is going on?” Ana asked with a heavy sigh.

“There’s this urban legend around the area,” Fareeha sighed as she sat down and pulled Angela onto her lap to cuddle. “About a couple of gay men that died back in the twenties and haunt the cornfields. Supposedly, they were a mixed race couple that no one knew about for the longest time until someone walked in on the two of them having sex. The black man was lynched and the white man burned his house down shortly afterwards. Since then, they hunt down and kill any white, racist bastards that happen to be travelling the roads back here. But, they’ve also attacked and killed other people too, fairly innocent people whose only crimes were being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Do you have a description of what these two characters look like?” Ana asked as she set her tea down.

“White boy’s got golden blond hair, blue eyes, and skin covered in freckles,” Genji said. “The other guy looks massive, but he’s actually the same size as his partner. Close cropped hair, possibly shaved, and a well-kept circle beard. More people see the white guy rather than the darker partner.”

“Probably because they’re racist and would attack a black man on sight,” Fareeha shook her head.

“I’ve seen a few writings that suggest the man might actually be a mix of black and Mexican,” Angela said. “But, it is just an urban legend with some…terrifying real life commonalities.”

“I know what I saw,” Ana shook her head. “And my car was beaten up very badly. Whatever I encountered out there, I hope I never see them again.”

“Amen,” Fareeha smirked before she tilted her head to the side. “So, how was the drive aside from that?”

Ana smiled and happily let the subject of her attack fade away. She needed to take her mind off of the encounter and never bring it up again.

Jack rested Gabriel’s head in his lap and ran his fingers gently over his husband’s cheek. Gabriel’s body was still a broken mess, but their accelerated regenerative bodies was already making short work of his extensive injuries. They couldn’t die, not anymore, but that didn’t mean that Jack wasn’t worried about losing his husband.

Gabriel’s claws shifted on the dirt floor of their den before he let out a long, guttural sigh. Jack smiled and leaned forward, kissing over his husband’s cheek as he slowly woke up.

“Hey,” Jack greeted. “You hungry?”

“Always,” Gabriel murmured as one red eye opened and rolled up towards him. “We made a bad call with that woman.”

Jack nodded as he reached behind him for one of the rotting rabbit carcasses. “We seem to have less and less prey come through here as the years go on,” he agreed. “They must be getting smarter.”

Gabriel twisted and snapped for the carcass, pulling it out of Jack’s hand with a loud crunch. Jack smiled as he watched Gabriel feast on the offering, his eyes rolling towards the pile that Jack had hunted for him while Gabriel was resting. His needle-tongue trembled before it jammed itself into the bloated belly of the rabbit and started sucking everything up.

“I know the rabbits aren’t much,” Jack murmured as Gabriel tore the carcass open and started devouring the softened meat. “But it’s the best out there at the moment.”

Gabriel lifted his head and looked at him. The cluster of red eyes on his head trembled with the movement before Gabriel crawled forward and gently took Jack’s hands between his claws. His body was already starting to look human again and he slowly brought Jack’s hands up to his mouth, pressing them against his lips.

“I would eat anything you brought me, Jack,” Gabriel murmured. “Because I know you only bring me the best.”

Jack let out a sad laugh as he reached up to cup Gabriel’s face. The monstrous features melted away into the familiar face of his husband and Gabriel settled down on his knees so that they could press their heads together. The rope burn from the lynching that took his life stood out in furious contrast to the rest of his bronze flesh, the deep bruising making Jack’s eyes water.

He leaned forward and kissed over the mark, ignoring the way his own flesh cracked and crumbled off of him like the broken flesh of a roasted pig. Gabriel’s arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close as they relieved their final moments of life again. Jack started coughing heavily, feeling the smoke and fire in his lungs as it seared him down to the bone. Gabriel’s fingers dug grooves into Jack’s back as he feverishly clawed at flesh as his windpipe was crushed under the weight of the rope and his body.

The people that Jack had grown up with had taken his love from him, blaming Gabriel’s dark skin for their crimes of sodomy. They refused to listen, refused to believe that Jack was a willing participant, that he loved Gabriel with all of his heart. They believed it to be some satanic influence from a man of ‘impure breeding’ and that once the man was dead, Jack would be free.

He had been forced to watch as Gabriel was hoisted off of his feet and into the air in front of the jail. He had screamed, begging them to let Gabriel go, but they had ignored him. It was horrific to watch his husband die, knowing that he was only a few feet away, held securely so that he didn’t run forward to save him.

They hadn’t even given Gabriel a proper burial. They’d dump his corpse into a nameless grave and left it; no coffin and no ceremony. Jack had been kept at the surgeon’s home and constantly visited by the priest to ‘save his soul’. Jack had spent most of the time crying, begging them to let him go so that he could be with Gabriel. He had been beaten until he could show that he wasn’t a sodomizer anymore.

When he was home, all alone in that huge farmhouse that his father had left for him after he died, Jack had started preparing his funeral pyre. He had stood in the bedroom, waiting for the fire to reach him. It had been painful, but he had never felt as free as when his cooked corpse fell to the burning floor and his spirit had leaped free.

Gabriel had met him in the cornfields, crying and holding him close. Jack had apologized over and over again, clinging to the spirit of his husband. He had foolishly thought that he could protect him out in the middle of nowhere, make sure that no one could ever hurt him. He had been horribly wrong. The people he had known had done something horrible to the man he loved and anger consumed him.

He had been transformed on the spot, losing his human form. Gabriel had followed him without hesitation, transforming into the same vengeance starved creature. Jack regretted what he had done to them, but at the same time, it was hard to feel sorry for the people that had fallen to their claws. They were the scum of the earth, those that thought themselves better than others because of arbitrary characteristics.

But not all of their victims had been worthy of death. Some had been innocent, but there was no reconciling with a creature of vengeance. They only wanted to kill. No amount of begging could dissuade them once they were on the trail.

“We’ll be okay,” Gabriel smiled and kissed him. “I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too, Gabriel,” Jack smiled up at him. “Come; you must be starving. Let’s finish those rabbits off together and then go see if we can’t track a human down.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Gabriel grinned before they pulled away.

They kissed one more time before shifting to their monstrous forms and falling on the rabbit corpses to feed. They were always hungry, all the better to keep hunting humans. Their shoulders bumped gently against each other as they fed, reminding the other that they were still there and that they weren’t about to leave.

#reaper76 #Ana Amari #modern supernatural AU #mentions of racism #mentions of lynching #nothing graphic

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evolutionsvoid · 7 years ago

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While I have talked a lot about how the term "dragon" is thrown around a lot and misused, the word "vampire" is another one that suffers such a fate. The "Dragon" label is slapped onto any giant, dangerous creature, and the title of "vampire" is used whenever a species or entity feeds on blood. As you can clearly see, these requirements for such a title are very vague. So often they are slung around with reckless abandon, to the point where such names hardly mean anything. The moment some culture or group learns that a creature feeds on blood, they instantly start calling it a "vampire." For a natural historian, such as I, it is extremely confusing. You will go to some town and have people raving about "vampires," and you go to investigate only to find that it is a roost of small blood sucking bats. This is the other problem with calling everything a "vampire," as it instantly demonizes whatever species it is used on. These bats hardly drink enough blood to cause harm, yet people are ready to slaughter them just because they believe they are bloodthirsty beasts. Real vampires are real problems, as the human host is reduced to a feral state that makes them extremely aggressive. Vampire outbreaks can wipe out towns, which is why vampires are so despised and hunted. This level of threat and danger shouldn't be thrown around so sloppily. What if a band of knights come riding to a town under the belief that they are besieged by vampires, only to find out that the townsfolk have been panicking over large mosquitoes? It would be such a waste of time and resources, while real vampires are out infesting others! What I am trying to say is that we should watch our use of the term "vampire" so that innocent species aren't demonized and natural historians can keep things straight. The reason I bring this up in this entry is because the species I am writing about is often called a "vampire." This is obviously a false title. Yes, is does feed on blood, but it does eat other things! And yes, it is a little creepy looking, but that still does not mean it's a vampire! The species I am referring to is the Cukalid, a large species of flying insect. These creatures are quite hardy and well adapted to their environment, allowing them to live in a wide variety of habitats. They prefer temperate to tropical climates, and the only real thing they need is trees for roosting. Cukalids are a nocturnal species, going out to hunt around dusk and retreating to the cover of trees when the sun rises. Despite this lifestyle, they are not vulnerable to the sun. Its rays do not burn them like one would expect for a "vampire." Rather, night is when their prey is easier to target and ambush, while daylight makes their attempts rather obvious. Stalking prey during daylight hours would be difficult, as Cukalids grow to the size of an adult human and are red in color. Kind of hard for prey not to notice something like that. Though their limbs can allow walking and crawling, Cukalids prefer to travel by flight. Their large wings allow them to zip around rather quickly, or hover in place so that they may scope out an area. These wings are designed to be silent during flight, making it easier for them to sneak up on prey. To go with this lifestyle, Cukalids have specialized limbs. Their lowermost appendages have backward joints and dexterous hands that aid in perching and snaring small prey. Their middle appendages are fused and spiky, which they use for holding larvae and grooming. The upper limbs are much like our own arms, allowing them to grasp tools, prey and larvae. And if six limbs aren't enough, their proboscis is prehensile! So many options!

Now it should be obvious by the "vampire" moniker, but I do have to say that the diet of a Cukalid primarily consists of blood. Their tongue-like proboscis is covered in hundreds of tiny sharp hairs that pierce the skin and siphon bodily fluids. They are so small and sharp that prey often doesn't notice, only feeling an itching sensation as the Cukalid feeds. Often, Cukalid's target large sleeping animals that won't notice it feeding. Its silent flight and long tongue help it sneak up and drain blood without rousing the target. In some cases, the Cukalid may ambush and overpower smaller prey. Using its limbs, it pins the victim to the ground and drinks its fill. If large prey is in short supply or the Cukalid is feeling a bit peckish, they are known to nab small mammals and drink them dry as if they were a pouch of juice. What I think is rather interesting is the fact that Cukalids do eat other things besides blood. While such foods are a small portion of their diet, it shows that they do not rely solely on hematophagy. Using their long tongues, Cukalids have been seen drinking nectar from certain flowers, or draining juices from ripe fruits. Perhaps sugar is a needed nutrient for their diet, and they gain more by drinking such things. While Cukalids are large, bloodsucking insects, this is not what has made them so infamous. Rather, it is their reproductive cycle that makes people so fearful and disgusted of Cukalids. After a female and a male Cukalid mate, the female begins the development of two to three eggs. While other insects may lay these eggs and leave, Cukalids will actually keep them safe in their armored abdomen, refusing to lay them until they are almost ready to hatch. When the time comes, the female will finally release the eggs and guard them until the larvae emerge. Two to three larvae will be born, and their mother will pick them up and carry them on her body. What comes next is rather interesting, as Cukalids are brood parasites. Rather then care for them on her own, the mother will seek out large, blood-filled prey to help her out. Once she spots a suitable target, she will strategically place one of the larvae on the host and keep watch. Once planted, the larvae will dig in their legs and reveal a long, forked tongue that is used to pierce the prey's skin. Sliding this branching tongue under the skin, the larvae will begin to slowly feed on blood and other fluids. Its legs help anchor itself to the host, while the strange tongue makes removal difficult and painful. When the larvae is safely secured, the mother will fly off to plant the other siblings. The young will remain on the host for days, gaining strength and energy from its victim's blood. Now one may wonder why the host just doesn't squash the little bugger, as it would seem like an easy solution. The reason this doesn't happen is because while the larvae steals blood, it is also injecting something else into the host. This strange fluid (maybe venom? A tranquilizer?) causes the victim to become oddly motherly to the attached larva. Like how a mother lovingly cares for her child, the host will begin to act much like that, seeing this parasite as their own offspring. Even when the host is male or another gender, their behavior will change so that they care for and protect the parasite. Over the next few days, the host will become infatuated with the larvae. Any attempts to harm the parasite or point out that it isn't a real child will cause the host to lash out angrily and violently. This behavior is even seen in species who do not care for their offspring or interact with them in any way. When someone is being fed on by Cukalid larvae, it is pretty much impossible to convince them it is a parasite and not some precious baby. After a while, the larvae will have gained enough nutrients to begin pupating. When the host falls asleep, the young will remove itself from their body and crawl off to a nice, dark, safe place. There it will cocoon itself and begin the process of becoming an adult. When the larvae leaves the host, the host will wake up with no recollection of the past few days. Their memories of their time under its influence will be blurry, and some may even write it off as a drunken stupor. While some may believe that female Cukalids are uncaring mothers, there have been reports of them being quite protective of their young. Even when the larvae are planted on a host, their mothers have been seen checking in from time to time. They spy on the victim from a distance, making sure everything is going well. In certain cases where hosts have been harassed or targeted by others of their kind, the mothers have tracked down the offending individuals and viciously attacked them. With that, some people have found that it is best to let hosts be and wait for the larvae to leave under its own power. As you can imagine, such a life cycle has made Cukalids a terrifying creature in the eyes of many. Tales of them swapping out babies and preying on sleeping victims are plentiful. To make things even worse is its appearance. The devilish red, the cruel tongue and that bizarre visible brain. To this day, no one is really sure why the Cukalid has such a large, obvious brain. Compared to other insects, the Cukalid boasts the largest brain to body weight ratio. Some believe such a large organ is what gives Cukalids such cunning and cleverness. Though I did not state it before, but Cukalids are rather smart little bugs. They can open doors and windows, sneak into locked areas and plan out attacks so that they maximize success and minimize failure. This also helps when planting their young, as they choose hosts that will provide proper safety and food for their larvae. Even with this, though, their brains seem too big. Other insects are good at planning and hunting, and yet they do not possess such large brains. Giant ants are quite smart and clever, but their brains are tiny compared to the Cukalids! Another theory is that the Cukalid's brain makes them immune to magic. This I don't know much about, as I am not educated in such a department. The other popular theory is that this organ grants the Cukalid psychic powers. This one I believe is based more on hysteria and paranoia, the belief that Cukalids are masters of mind control and hypnosis. Many believe that Cukalids use their powers to lure in victims for their thirsty brood, or place attackers in a trance so that they may escape harm with ease. Some even think Cukalids use their tongues to suck the intelligence and memories out of a victim's brain! Why a giant insect would want to steal thoughts is beyond me! It has gotten to a point where some humans believe that Cukalids are designed specifically to hunt and feed on them. Their larvae can give the appearance of a swaddled baby, and Cukalids often target humans due to their efficiency as hosts. To them, Cukalids are worthy of the title of "vampire." To me, I think it is all ridiculous. Yes, Cukalids feed on blood and a brood parasites, but it doesn't make them psychic blood beasts. This talk of mind control and stuff is just silly, as there have not been any reports or findings of such abilities. I would know, as I spent a month researching them! I spent days on end watching them and compiling notes of their behavior, and nothing ever happened to me! They say they use their big eyes and brains to entrance prey, but I have made eye contact with several Cukalids and none of them ever hypnotized me! Well, not that I recall. Actually, now that I think of it, I wouldn't exactly be able to tell that sort of thing, would I? I don't exactly have a research partner to confirm or deny such a thing. Weird. I am probably just overthinking things, but that would explain why my notes of Cukalids are surprisingly thin and scattered. You know what, scratch what I just said. I need to go see a mind cleaner to make sure there isn't something stuck in my brain. Depending on what they find, I may have to write a new entry for this species. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

#monster #creature #insect #vampire #art #drawing

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spacebookettes · 4 years ago

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A Boy without a witches ipad

The Boy was sat behind a container. The witches ipad had been advising every step he took. Only he had forgotten to charge it. The port had been tricky to navigate. Now the Boy was stuck. He could see the big ship but he needed a container with food for his long journey. The automated ship would be lonely but safe if he could find a way on board.

A day-glow butterfly landed on his hand. It turned to look at the boy and stuck out it’s long proboscis. The boy stuck his ‘proboscis’ out back at it. A giggle drifted across the breeze. The boy carefully followed it. A few giggles he heard coming from inside a container. He got inside it. Boxes of butterfly traps with fluorescent colours. Here was as good as anywhere he felt and his anxiety eased around the butterflies. He opened all the traps and fell asleep.

The boy awoke, covered in blinking colours. The walls of the container blinked also. His small lamp was dimming but he could see a picture in the mass of blinking. An image of an old familiar face. His witches face. The container shuddered and clanked down.

He waited

The Boy exited onto a great ship, streams of colour followed him. There was only sea to be seen. The boy was hungry. The fluttering colours rested on one particular container. Inside were boxes of dried fruit cake bread,. Malt loaf his favourite. Enough for everyone.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Mountain Muncher

The vast colossus plucked another mountain and placed it in her bag. A great golden bag filled with craggy peaks. She plucked another mountain and sucked some molten lava from it’s underside, then placed it in her bag. The Scientist loved Mountain Muncher computer game. She especially liked it when the snow from some freezing peak made the colossus sneeze. She liked the back story of little hungry colossus', hungry for mountain delights. The Scientist loved organising the different mountains into types based on nutritional content. A grey rainbow of rock.

The end

By Peter Stringer

The Kid Billionaire

As a kid travelling around some of the world and mostly in Japan, the Young Billionaire developed a talent for making new mates. She was good at making others mates as well... “you could be a rock star” the Young Billionaire believes everyone has an album in them. “you could be the rock star in my movie?”... As a kid the Young Billionaire made little films, daft super silly kid adventures, kid sci-fi and mysteries. Childish horror movies. She always managed to find new people to act in them where ever she went.

The little films had a habit of turning up, after the credits of her grown-up films. Everyone sat through the credits and everyone waited hopefully for a new little comedy mystery from the not too distant past. One day the Young Billionaire would be forced to make an announcement... or perhaps not... a new idea, we’ve heard before.

The end

By Peter Stringer

A cyborg tortoise

Borgtoise had a problem with her laser pointing eye sensor; it kept writing obscene things on the clouds. Flashes of red made temporary words. Words Borgtoise crustily blushed at. Borgtoise made her way at great pace, her legs had been augmented with hover crystals, hover crystals with go faster stripes. Whizzing between tortoise towns.

Borgtoise was very proud of her black chromed cyborg parts. She looked dangerous she felt. Now if she could just save up for the shell cannon she really would be dangerous.

Something was watching Borgtoise from cyborg forest. A metal paw scratched one of the stumpy trees in the forest darkness.

Borgtoise was zooshing toward the gothic spires of another tortoise town. She heard metal clacking shearing sounds coming up behind her. A metallic bunny with one real ear whooshed past. Hover crystals crossed and propelled Borgtoise upside down and onto her carbon fibre shell. “Damn, scratched again.. fucking rabbits.” Borgtoise definitely needed that cannon, if only to stop her upsying on her shell.

A late Borgtoise hovered into the entrance of the tortoise town. She went straight to the cyborg shopping district and looked through the topsy medieval shop window, gazing longingly at one black chromed cannon; an assortment of blaster reloading crystals sat next to it. “Passed my weapons exam… but so expensive.”

Borgtoise made a complaint to the cyborg animal council about nuisance rabbits… again.

Tortoise alley had all the best cyborg bars. Laser sounds and phaser voices sniggered from every doorway. It was really sunny. The large windows were open and an assortment of cyborg animals were dangling their feet (some with hover crystals) into the breezy medieval bar alley.

No rabbits to be seen.

Borgtoise was downloading something onto the crystal drive of some shifty looking creature in dark robes, neon green highlights escaping from under them. They had no visible face. “Thanks Danni” Borgtoise said to the dark void where a face could have been. “Know anybody good with laser targets?”

A mixture of old dilapidated mills, dusty doorways and scratched chrome mechanical trash. Borgtoise knocked on one of the doors. A glowing six fingered hand felt around the outside of the door. ‘Great, another fucking cyborg who loves theatrics’ Borgtoise thought. A mirrored beak followed the glowing hand.

“Eeeeh, you’ll be wanting your laser pointer fixed, I’ll say” said the beak. ‘how did you know' asked Borgtoise. “been a lot of laser problems recently... and I’m the best with lasers". Great thought Borgtoise another lasers mystery.

After Mirror Beak had spent the afternoon wrestling with some colourful language projected on her mill walls, she said a deeply offended goodbye to Borgtoise, who made her way back towards the bustling centre of the tortoise town. She went to Rasping alley this time. Small robots crowded her and cleaned all the flesh that surrounded her cyborg parts. Borgtoise felt like a whole new tortoise. She was also hungry... though a cyborg can largely go without much food and just recharge occasionally. The animal instinct to eat is still with the people of Cyborg animal Planet... and Salad Bar alley has the good crunchy stuff Borgtoise needed. One particular cyborg cafe specialises in tortoise delights... She Shells is it’s name... it does takeout.

Zshoozshing toward another tortoise town. Borgtoise's laser pointer was scanning the horizon for rogue cyborg rabbits. Nothing. She stopped for a cyborg picnic. Bowls of dark green leaves and the occasional yellow, orange and red. From the void box she kept on the side of her shell. (Void boxes, though massively advanced technology are surprisingly something discovered fairly early on in a cultures technological evolution.) She slurped a cabbage sorbet. (Void boxes also come chilled).

So it’s another laser mystery then. I’ll have to contact a time chimp.

Borgtoise searched the void box for a space disk attachment. Found she locks it into place onto her dark chrome cranial cyborg implant. It busily rotates giggling with computer plinking. Borgtoise sent out a space text message; deep into the darker regions of the cosmos.

As Borgtoise finished her last piece of sautéed lettuce, she sat back and said to herself “come on then, where are you... it doesn’t take this long normally.” A gust of wind perked Borgtoise up and she slyly looked around. “sorry I’m late" a voice below her came from inside the void box. “im having troubles again and had to take a less than usual route.” ‘i can see that... i had no idea you had access to my void box.’ A small dark brown chimp with wild grey hair, surrounding it’s yellow face, sat inside the entrance of the void box. Their tail was holding a cup of tea (time chimps have tales, unlike most great apes. Useful opposable tails. ) “needs more soya milk.” “what’s this” the chimp was holding a crystalline, slightly opache, cube. ‘just a family heirloom.’ The time chimp gazed through the cube. A bird sang somewhere in the distance. Borgtoise’s laser pointer wrote something obscene on the bark of a nearby tree.

“Problems with lasers again” pondered the time chimp. “lets ride to a rabbit town.”

Time chimp sat on Borgtoise’s shell as they zooshed toward the multi-coloured confections of a rabbit town skyline. Great bulbous rainbow roofs of saturated tiled misaligned peaks. A technicolour ideal of a gingerbread witch city. Only with rabbits.

A tortoise had not been seen in a rabbit town since the big incident... the great embarrassment the cyborg rabbits called it. So a cyborg tortoise with a time chimp on their back caused quite a few wide eyed stares. Many un-cyborged birds sat on the rooftops twittering. They scattered when a massive crash crunched somewhere around a corner. Someone had misjudged with their carrot and dandelion juice cart when they couldn’t believe the scene within their cyborg eye. (Cyborg rabbits are cyclops' generally and are almost entirely cyborged, except for one instinctive ear.) Where are all these un-natural birds coming from wondered Borgtoise. And where is time chimp: they sauntered from around a corner with some cheap candy store Xray spectacles. “ingenious really... a super weapon... but how to neutralise them?” ‘what?’ asked Borgtoise. “oh nothing, it’s just important for the plot later.”

A little solo bird song came from a nearby rooftop and the Xray spectacles fizzed with a little escaping smoke; time chimp took them off. “The writer has written themselves into a corner and they expect me to get them out of it.” “you see the unnatural birds are actually cyborgs, just with the feathers and skin intact. You haven’t noticed the bird song, who would!” “the songs are little computer programs, infecting the cyborg parts of the cyborg animals.” ‘that’s dastardly’ said Borgtoise. “yes, but now I have to find a solution... I’m glad you never bought your cannon Borgtoise.” "perhaps something with noise cancelling."

The end

By Peter Stringer

#creative writing #short story #scifi #fantasy #witch #butterflies #art #silly story #adventure

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seuzz · 4 years ago

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Story: “The Secret Invader”

It’s always the one you least suspect!

School had just let out, and I was unlocking my bicycle when I heard Steven calling me: "Hey Alien!"

That was his nickname for me. Sometimes he forgot, and called me "Allen" instead. But when he was being extra mean, he would call me "S. Alien Andrews." The "S," he said, stood for "Space."

He was puffing hard as he came running up. He wore a big grin. "Did you watch that alien movie last night, Alien?"

I pulled my bike from the school bike rack and tried to ignore him. "It was about space aliens," Steven went on, "that looked like you!"

He had picked this way of teasing me on account of the X-Files stickers on my backpack. But he was nasty to most of the kids in our class, even the ones who weren't into science-fiction. He would have invented a reason to tease me, if he couldn't find one.

"Yeah, they looked just like you," Steven went on as I straddled my bike. "But they could have looked like anyone, because they were shapeshifters!"

I paused, and felt a cold, quivery shiver go up my back. Steven saw, and his grin turned slimy.

"Yeah, they turned themselves into people," he went on as he unlocked his own bike from the rack. "Then they got rid of the real people, and took their place!"

I knew the kind of movies he meant. I didn't like it when people talked about them.

He got on his bike, then waited for me to get on mine, so he could follow me. We were half a block down the street before he started talking again.

"Did you ever think," he said, "that there might be aliens here already? I mean," he went on when I didn't reply, "I know you do. You believe in secret bases and space ships, and all that other junk." He sniggered.

"It's stupid, but you believe in it," he went on, "but what if it was really like in that movie? What if they were already here, and we didn't know because they looked like ... us?!" He cackled.

I was trying not to get the creeps, but it was hard. I had a horrible feeling about where he was going to go with this talk. I pedaled a little faster, but Steven sped up to keep pace beside me.

"You know how it would happen?" he asked. "They'd come in spaceships, but they wouldn't look like us at first. They'd have ... purple skin! And green snakes for hair!" He laughed. "Except they wouldn't. They wouldn't look like anything, they'd just be gray and blank all over. No faces, even! And rubbery all over. Soft and slimy and rubbery! That's so they could change shape easy!"

My heart started to beat really hard. I could see it, what he was describing. Except I could picture more. I could picture the aliens, and they were almost like what he said. Only in the picture I had, they had a thing like an elephant's trunk inside their mouth and throat. They unhinged their jaws like a snake when they saw you, and opened their mouths wide, and the trunk came out. It was soft and squishy, with red, quivering lips at the end. Stuff like spit dribbled from it, and burned the grass where it fell.

"They'd catch people who were by themselves," Steven said, "and get rid of them. Then they'd turn themselves into that person, and they'd go back to town, and be them!"

I pictured the alien standing in front of me, and I pictured the trunk—the proboscis—coming out and grabbing me and sticking to me. It burned through my clothes and it burned my skin. Then it sucked me inside out, like sucking out the inside of a tomato with a straw. Then it sucked up the skin that was left.

I shivered all over, and my skin crawled like it was trying squirm off my body.

We came to an intersection and stopped for the light to change. I glanced over at Steven. His grin was wicked and gleeful.

"And you know who they turn into?" he said. "They turn into Mrs. Thicke." That was our teacher. "It was after school when they caught her. One of them turned into her, and put on her dress, and sat down to grade our homework. That wasn't Mrs. Thicke at school today." He smirked at me. "It was one of them!" He laughed.

"And Mr. Henderson," he went on as the light changed. That was our principal. "He was the first one they got! Now he's going around to all the classrooms after school, grabbing the teachers and replacing them with squirmy space aliens. Half the teachers are really them! Pretty soon all of the teachers will be them!"

We came to another intersection. My house was one way. His house was down the other street. But Steven didn't turn. He was having too much fun, so he followed me.

"So you know what's going to happen on parents-teacher night, don't you? All our parents are going to go into the school. But it won't be our parents who come home!"

He turned his bike to bump mine, and I had to brake and stop to keep from falling over.

"It won't be your parents anymore, man!" Steven gloated. "They'll look like your parents. But they'll be monsters from outer space!"

I couldn't stand it anymore.

"They'll get your parents too!" I shot back. "Your mom and dad will be monsters too!"

I thought that would scare him into stopping. But he put his tongue between his teeth and grinned at me.

"We're already space aliens!" He laughed. It was a nasty, glugging sound in the back of his throat. "My parents, and my sister, and me! We were the first ones! That's how come we had to watch that movie last night. It had secret instructions for us. We're supposed to go out and catch more people for them to be!"

He leaned across the handlebars of his bike. "Like you!"

I shivered hard.

"Yeah," he said, and he sounded cheerful. "You and your family are at the top of the list. That's my job!" he boasted. "I'm going to turn your mom and dad into aliens! And then you!"

I felt my knuckles tightening around the handles of my bike.

"If you're a space alien," I said, "where's your spaceship? You said you didn't believe in it! It's just a lot of junk!"

For a moment he looked surprised. Then he laughed.

"I just said that to cover it up. Our flying saucer landed last Saturday night. Out there in the woods." He pointed.

I got a pain in my throat, like I'd swallowed something sharp.

"Last Saturday?" I asked. "You saw it?"

Again, he looked surprised. "You saw it come down too?"

"I didn't think anyone else saw it."

Steven stared at me. Then he grinned. "That was our space ship! Come on! I'll show you!"

He turned at the next street, and pedaled toward the low, wooded hills behind the houses. He looked back at me. My hands were shaking, but I followed him.

"You know it's just you and me now," he said when we turned onto a dirt path that wound up into the hills. "That's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to get you by yourself, to turn you into an alien. I could turn myself into you." He smirked. "Then I would go back to your house, but your mom and dad would think it's you. I'd play in your bedroom and wear your clothes and go to school for you, but it would really be me. No one would know!"

I shivered but said nothing as he led me deeper into the dusty woods.

We followed a gulch until we came to another path. I tried to lead him back down, away from the hill we were climbing. But he seemed to know exactly where to take me, and soon we were in a clearing. The grass was short and singed, like there had been a fire.

"This is where we landed," he said.

"So where's your spaceship?"

"We hid it. In a cave."

"The cave back there?" I pointed over the shoulder of the hill.

Steven looked startled, then dropped his bike and ran up the slope in the direction I had pointed. I groaned, and followed him.

There was a small canyon on the other side of the hill. Steven clambered up and came to a stop in front of a small, shallow cave.

His mouth was hanging open when I caught up to him. Something silvery was glinting inside the cave.

"I don't believe it!" he shouted, and ran toward it. I tried to catch him, but he was too fast. "It's a spaceship!"

He turned around to run back down, but I caught him by the arm. "What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Are you kidding?" he said. "That's a spaceship! I'm going to tell—!"

"You're not telling anyone," I said. When Steven looked confused, I said, "I was the only one who came looking for it. I was supposed to become Mr. Henderson next. But I guess I'll have to become you."

Steven's eyes popped as I unhinged my jaw and opened my mouth very wide.

My proboscis burned through his clothes and stuck onto his skin. It was like slurping the insides out of a tomato, and I finished by slurping down the skin too. After I put on Steven's clothes, my own skin rippled and wobbled all over, like it was trying to crawl off of me.

Then I hid Allen's bike in the cave next to the ship and got on my own bike. I didn't like my new thoughts at first. They were like spiders, and my brain was a dirty, hairy nest that wriggled with them.

But I was used to them by the time I got home. Soon I was figuring out new nicknames for the other kids at school, and grinning while I practiced saying them. It would be fun teasing them while helping the rest of us become them!

#story #juvenile #science-fiction #horror #shapeshifter #aliens

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kittenfemme27 · 4 years ago

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The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires

I don’t know about you, reader, but it’s been actual years since I was able to properly sit down and finish a book. My last one was Lovecraft Country in 2018, and many, many years before that. Reading used to be a big passion of mine, I loved to get lost in the worlds. I loved the movie that played out in my head as I read, as if it was projecting itself into my mind more-so than i was actually reading the words themselves. For a kid who didn’t always grow up with the internet or video games available, Books from my local library were a great escape.

So, having found myself getting more and more into horror around 2019 in all forms of media I consumed, I was more than happy to bookmark a tweet from a horror artist I follow on Twitter who had a list of all the horror books he’d read that year. This would be my chance to get back into reading, finally!

Cue.. 2 years later, and I’ve finally started on that list. The top of that list, “The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires“, was something I found immediately intriguing from the title and cover alone. I’m now regretting that decision so much that I’m not sure I’ll bother with the rest of the list.

(CW: R*pe, Gore, Racism)

“The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires” is an awful book. The only compliment I feel I could accurately give it is that it’s not written incompetently enough, from a purely technical standpoint, as to be unreadable.

The story stars Patricia Campbell, a housewife in the 1980′s-1990′s that is more apology than character, and her rag-tag group of similarly middle-aged, middle-income southern white wine sipping housewives who do, and I cannot stress this enough, almost nothing but test each other’s and the readers patience for nigh on 310 out of 357 pages. They bicker, they fight, they treat Patricia as crazy when she repeatedly shows them evidence that children around them are dying, and most of all they refuse to do absolutely anything, leaning more into pure disbelief until the problem has literally violated one of them. The book club women don’t lead interesting lives, either. They’ve got husbands who are not in love with them, children who hate them, and friendships with each other that can be broken by what feels tantamount to bringing the wrong wine to a meeting. Throughout the story, Patricia is accosted by the resident Vampire-like creature, more akin to a human mosquito than any sort of real “Vampire”, that moves in after his aunt dies. A man named James Harris. He smoothly worms his way into everyone’s lives in the charismatic way a vampire does and convinces everyone that Patricia is more or less insane for ever suspecting him of being a vampire after she watches him feed on a child. This leads to her attempting suicide after being pushed into a corner by her doctor husband who seems to have been ripped straight from the 1950′s and thinks women should be Seen and not Heard. She gives up and more or less goes comatose as a character for roughly 3 years until finally she snaps to her senses after seeing a ghost of her dead mother in law who knew the Vampire when she was a small child, who leads her to one of the bodies he’s got stored in his attic, and convinces everyone else in her book club, who has routine abandoned her at this point, to help her kill James. They do, chopping his body to bits while it taunts them and then throwing the bits into a fire. Patricia divorces her husband at the end and somehow that makes her children lover her, happy-ever-after ending.

That’s the rough synopsis, but it doesn’t really do the grossness of this book any justice. That first child James kills, is a black 9 year old named Destiny who later kills herself as it’s revealed that the Vampire-like creature’s bites feel so good and so sexually pleasurable, that if you are deprived of them after becoming addicted you’re likely to just commit suicide. This is AFTER she’s taken away from her mother by child services because they assume the bite marks are syringe injection marks and that her mother must be a druggie. She’s not the first black child to die this way either. In-fact, by the time Patricia becomes wise to James’ ways, she’s the third. They’re all from a poor black neighborhood that is literally described as shady, dangerous, and being full of “Super Predators” called Six-Mile, which is the de-facto feeding ground of the Vampire for a good 75% of the book, as well as the home of the literally only surviving named black character, Ursula Greene, who herself is nothing more than a “wise old negro” trope along with being a maid to these rich white people who think of her as trash. This is probably the biggest overarching problem in the book. It tries, in the authors words, to explore the relationships between the white, rich women who brag about how their cul-de-sac is so safe and pure that nobody even locks their door, and the poor black characters from Six-Mile. The book thinks its clever, because Mrs. Green constantly points out that the white characters let the black children die callously so that their white children would live, to which they can only reply about how guilty that makes them feel and how they’re sorry. I’m not sure what the author hoped to accomplish by pointing out the institutional racism of the 90′s, but whatever he hoped to accomplish, it fail flat on its face in the most racist way it could.

I wish that was where gross things ended for this book, but its not. At one point, the Vampire-like creature rapes one of the book club members and she is more or less outright stated to be pregnant with a monster from that rape and it is also revealed that the rape gave her an “Auto-Immune Disease” that the characters husband immediately likens to AIDS and that is very quickly killing her. This information causes her to choose to have her body cremated so nothing can spring forth from her corpse when she dies. The implications this has are frankly appalling. The books decision on whether or not a woman who gets pregnant from rape is worthy of life is to resolutely and proudly say no and treat that as if its a feminist answer. That if you’re raped, it’s akin to something like AIDS and life simply isn’t worth living. it’s one of the grossest things I’ve read in a long time.

It’s not even the only shock value the book uses to make it’s events feel real and scary, others include Patricia’s son “Blue” being obsessed with Nazi’s, for genuinely seemingly no reason. He just brings them up to make you, and everyone in the story, uncomfortable. There are constant overwrought descriptions of gore or simply gross scenarios, such as an indepth description of Patricia’s ear-lobe being ripped off, or rats gnawing the flesh off on a old woman, or a cockroach crawling inside someones ear. There is also the repeated child murder or child suicide, which doesn’t really serve a purpose other than to shock the middle-aged mothers this book was meant for, with multiple sentences in which Patricia thinks about how much it would hurt if that were her children, inviting the reader to do the same with their own.

And we couldn’t forget that this book is just unrepentant in its horniness. It’s outright stated that being fed on is the most sexually pleasurable thing one can feel, which makes it all the more awkward when you consider that the Vampire’s first set of victims are children, later Patricia’s teenage daughter who she walks in on in the middle of being fed and who she has to stop from literally masturbating in that moment while attempting to punch the Vampire off of that same teenage daughter. But, of course, it doesn’t end there. It’s a book about almost entirely women written by a Cis Male Author, which means there are constant depiction of female bodies in the nude or in violence. It’s no “She boobed boobily”, thankfully, but it’s not much better than that. Describing pubic hair, breast shape, and even making it so that the Vampire-like creature drinks from a penis-esque proboscis that extends from it’s throat and right into the upper thigh of it’s victim, which is mentioned twice to be right next to the vagina. It even goes so far as to try and sexualize its own rape, aswell as having Patricia tell the rape victim how good it feels with this section between the two. Something I’m including here in its entirety because no amount of words I can write describes how gross this passage is, in context.

“Grace already... told me,” Slick said, opening her eyes, pulling her mask away from her face to speak. “I made her... give me all the details.”

“Me too,” Patricia said. “I was out from what he did to me.”

“How did... it feel?” Slick asked.

Patricia would never have said this to anyone but Slick. She leaned forward.

“It felt so good,” she breathed, the immediately remembered what he’d done to Slick and felt selfish and insensitive.

“Most sin does,” Slick said.

I think the thing that angers me the most about this book is that it’s tricked a lot of people who read it into thinking its a fun, feminist read. All of the main characters are overworked mothers who struggle with being that overworked, and then come out on top anyway because of their motherly intuition and love for their kids. It’s the kind of book that a single struggling mother would read and think “Yeah, I’d do that, that’d be me! I’d save the day!” and it makes them feel good about themselves, and about being a mother, and about how hard it is to make the kids lunches and clean the husbands dirty underwear and make sure the house is clean and dinner is on the table by 6 PM all while looking hashtag fabulous and like a girlboss. A quick trawl through any review site will show roughly the exact type of single mothers this book is written for giving it 5 stars and calling it hilarious and empowering. And y’know, I don’t have a problem inherently with prose written for that demographic. But this book gets away with a ton of racism, sexism, and outright disgusting content by hiding itself under that veneer and I think that’s just awful. It should be held to scrutiny for what it is, for how bad it is, and it clearly never was.

Don’t read this book. It sucks. It sucks so fucking much. I want my night I spent reading it back.

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zarinthelwrites · 7 years ago

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Blooming from the Mud Pt. 11 (Bleach/DGM)

Swinging her feet of the wooden gate of the entrance is the the pink demon herself.

“Hey, hey, kitty~,” She calls down at him. “Have you come to play with me? Ken-chan is taking a nap right now, so I get first dibs!” She beams at him with her rosy cheeks.

Kanda stares up at her, baffled. ‘Kitty’? Where did she get that from?

“My name is Kanda,” he says.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Kitty. Because--” She counts off her fingers. “Claws. Small. Grouchy.” She grins, makes a petting motion. “Soft. It’s perfect!”

“You’re smaller than me,” Kanda points out, grouchily. “Don’t call me that.”

“Kandacchi~” She drags out the chi as she stares at him.

He’s pretty sure that this nickname might be... worse.

Yachiru bounces.

“It’s so I can have piggyback rides,” she braggs. “Good for gutting people~ Wait.” Yachiru tilts her head way to the side, crosses her arms, and nods decisively. “I see, I see. No good, Kandacchi. There can only be one Ken-chan, and that’s my Ken-chan! So you have to go play with your sword, now. Bye bye!” She waves at him and then drops backward to that her feet her keeping her hanging upside down from the gate. “Have fun, Kan-da-chi!”

Kanda ducks around her in order to enter the 11th Division compound.

“Ikkaku!” He yells. “You bald asshole! Get out here!”

Ikkaku, who had been napping in the shade of one of the building’s overhangs yawned, deliberately digging one of his pinkies into his hear.

“Oh,” he smirked. “Hey, Kanda. Wanna fight?”

“Later,” says Kanda. “Take back your fucking paperwork, Ikkaku.”

“Aw, Kanda, don’t you know? Only the Captain and Lieutenant can touch that paperwork,” says Ikkaku, shaking out his hands.

“Your signature,” Kanda points out calmly and deliberately, “Is on some of them.”

“How can that be?” says Ikkaku, using his sword as a pillow and looking incredibly put upon. “I’m just some poor ruffian from the Rukongai, ne’er learned to read nor write.”

“Please tell me who said that to you,” says Kanda.

“Nah, I already killed them,” says Ikkaku. “But seriously, Kanda. Dealing with those reports...it’s like drilling a fucking hole through my skull. And Captain Kenpachi doesn’t care about stuff like that. The 4th seat before you... he’s Lieutenant Iba, now. He used to take care of the basic paperwork-- refused to touch the backlog, but made sure that the system didn’t completely break down. But all I care about it following my Captain, Kanda. It’s up to you if you care enough to deal with that shit.”

“Fuck you,” says Kanda, suddenly tired.

Ikkaku flips Kanda the bird and then goes back to his nap.

He doesn’t want to sleep right now so... meditation it is, then.

“Hey, Ikkaku,” says Kanda. “I got a room around here?”

“Sure,” mumbles Ikkaku. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Just find a room that you like, then kick whoevers living there out.”

Simple.

Kanda looks through doorways until he finds a room with an unbroken bed and a window with a working catch. Then he settles into meditation, the first time he has felt safe enough to do so since he died for that final time.

:Took you long enough:

There was nothing around him but darkness, thick and heavy and pressing in on him from all sides.

“Who’s there?” Kanda snaps, straining his eyes in the hopes of seeing anything.

:I’m right here. Idiot:

“I can’t see you,” says Kanda, frustrated.

:Don’t use your eyes then, Ba-kanda:

“Don’t call me that!” Kanda grumbles, closing his eyes to help him focus more on an actually useful sense. But still. Nothing.

:You’re not very good at this:

“You give bad instructions,” grunts Kanda. “Shut up and let me try.” He can feel something close to him, he’s sure of it. It’s soft, more like a breeze... but steady, a constant beating pressure. His focus narrows even further and he reaches out, confident this time. He moves up, and his finger touches something-- and slides right off.

“Who are you?” Kanda demands.

:You know:

“I don’t know,” says Kanda...but. It’s so familiar. He’s never felt anything like that, but it was... smooth, and warm. A slick texture, but full of tiny, almost... feathery etchings?

:You know me:

“What is your name?” Kanda asks, voice hollow. He reaches out to try and touch it again. He’s always been so cold....

:Say it. Kanda Yuu:

Kanda swallows. He hates this...this uncertainty, this darkness inside his own mind.

“Hello,” he says, “Kurayami. It’s good to meet you at last.” He offers his hand blindly, willingly. It’s almost a surprise when something human shaped grabs it.

From the point where their hands meet, a blossom of light erupts outward in all directions devouring the darkness until nothing of it remains.

Kanda stares at the incarnation of his soul and his first jagged, wondering thought is--

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out.

:You think so?:

Kurayami’s wings spread out, six feet at least on either side and made completely of shattered stained glass that beat back an forth as a butterfly’s would. He’s as tall as Kanda at his adult height, clad in a tan long coat over a simple linen shirt and jeans. A dark blue masquerade mask covers the upper half of his face, with the part that should cover his nose elongated far longer until it curls into something resembling the proboscis that acts as a butterfly’s mouth. His hair, lilac and feathery, brushes his jawline, rustling in the wind generated by his own flight.

“Yes,” Kanda says softly. “I know it.”

:Kanda Yuu: Kurayami smiles and brushes his hand across Kanda’s cheek. :Look down, my wielder. This world that you have made for me.... Kanda, it is your heart that is beautiful:

Kanda looks down, and sees a field of blossoming pink and white lotus flowers each nestled on their green pads over the quietly lapping water that he is standing on, and watches the field stretch on until it meets the distant horizon. He dips a hand into the muddy waters below his feet, watches it drip from his fingers.

“Alma would have liked it here,” he whispers...and he, he can’t bear it any more. He curls up, covering his eyes so that even here, no one can see him cry. “You remember, don’t you? How much he loved... the lotus flowers.”

He feels warmth against his back, and the wings curl over him.

:You’ll see them again: Kurayami promises. :They are out there waiting for you, my wielder. They are bound to you by fate-- by the thread that binds our souls. I so swear to you, Kanda Yuu. You will never be alone:

#dgm #bleach #been a while huh? whoops

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9r7g5h · 7 years ago

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Remember All - P13

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess

Overall Rating: T+ (Rating subject to change)

Genre: General

Summary: Given another chance, left with her memories of their first time through, Gabrielle knows there’s only one option for her- let Xena live. Whatever she had to do, whatever she had to change to make sure that would happen, Gabrielle was willing to do it.

Words: 3,963

AN: Sorry this took so long to get out. I’ve been hanging out with my friends a lot recently (bless work schedules finally matching up for the first time in forever), which has been cutting into my writing time. Plus, still trying to decide on whether or not I want to pursue a specific plot path. So sorry again. But I hope you guys enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, ???

Her knives were out before the final syllable sounded, Gabrielle turning on her heels to face the source of the voice behind her. But there was nothing there- once again, the skittering as whatever had spoken retreated back into the shadows, drawing away from the light in the center of the room. Skittering that continued as that voice, as the voice that had haunted her dreams, as Hope's voice continued to speak.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to come for me, Mother. And now you're here."

"You're not mine," Gabrielle growled, turning as she followed the sound, her eyes stinging as she tried to peer into the darkness, tried to pull apart the shadow of darkness from the shadow of whatever thing spoke to her now. "Not in this life. I'm not your mother."

"Oh, but you are," Hope practically purred- and her voice sounded off. At first it had been hidden, Gabrielle's shock at hearing her at all masking the way Hope's voice was strange. Wasn't completely human, her sentences ending in an almost chittering, her words ever so slightly slurred. "The gods remember, Mother. And Father granted me his memories, allowed me to remember who I had once been. Who you were. How you had betrayed me."

Gabrielle cried out- a burning across her back as something sharp bit into her, the familiar feeling of blood trickling down her back as skin and muscle parted. It wasn't deep; she turned with the blow, just catching the slightest of blurs as Hope once again moved out of sight, and the movement told her it was painful but not fatal. She stared into the night, into the darkened hollows the torn down temple had created, and found nothing.

She turned as the skittering sounded off to her left, but Gabrielle knew by the time she looked, Hope would have already moved. She was something else, something beyond what she had been in the last life, and to her? To her this was a game.

"Father told me everything, how you and your precious little harlot murdered me and my son," Hope said, her voice angry, the slurring words and chittering becoming more pronounced as she spoke. "How you betrayed us, Mother."

"I'm not your mother," Gabrielle said again, this time rolling to the side just as Hope lunged. Whatever Hope was using to attack sailed over her head, when if Gabrielle had stood still it would have sunk into her shoulder. But still Hope was too fast, darting back into the darkness before Gabrielle could right herself enough to see what she was. "You were never my child, Hope," Gabrielle said into the darkness, her head turning, ears listening, reaching for the meaning behind each sound that confronted her. "I believed you were, once, and that's haunted me ever since. But Xena was right- you're nothing but a monster."

Silence. No skittering, no chittering, just pure, quiet silence.

Until Hope started to laugh- a sound that had the hairs on Gabrielle's neck and arms standing straight. It wasn't human, it was clearly laughter but nothing like the laughter a human made, instead distorted and turned. A movement- Gabrielle twirled on the tips of her toes, her knives held at the ready, watching as, with normal, human speed, a shadow moved within the darkness before her.

"You thought me a monster before," Hope asked, pausing just at the edge of the darkness. "You haven't seen me a monster yet." With that she stepped into the light.

It took everything Gabrielle had not to be sick, her stomach rolling at the sight of the creature before her. The familiar- because still that creature wore her face, what parts of it it could- and the strange, mixed crudely together into a monstrosity far worse than her dreams ever could have imagine.

Human mixed with insect, flesh shifting into smooth, hard exoskeleton, the transition in between rolling with pus and sores as the two sides of her tried to coexist and found each other lacking. Her lipless mouth was stretched, the two edges protruding in mock mandibles, fleshy and pale even as they clicked together, like someone snapping their fingers but harsher, harder. Her limbs- part flesh and part shell, uneven and making her almost hunched, lopsided, even as they moved with seemingly god-like efficiency- ended in claws, her fingers merging together into one, sharp weapon, one of which still dripped with her blood. Sparse patches of hair covered her head, thick and full where patches of skin were healthy enough to contain it, bare where shell reigned, small, diseased tuffs where the two halves tried to merge.

But it was her eyes that caught and held Gabrielle- one green, familiar, one she saw whenever she stared into a mirror or a pool of water. The other black, bulbous, barely held within her eye socket. Both stared at her with pure, unadulterated hatred as she stood proudly within the light.

"Now do you see how much of a monster I am, Mother," Hope asked- and watching her talk was what did it, Gabrielle turning away from Hope as her meal met the floor, splattering through the dust and rubble and leaving Gabrielle's mouth burning. "In that other world," Hope continued, her head tilting from side to side so she could stare at Gabrielle out of both eyes, "I was just a little girl, following the path laid out by the only parent to ever love me. But now..." She waved one clawed hand towards herself and shrugged, a horrible, twisted movement that almost had Gabrielle retching once again.

"What happened to you, Hope?" Even though every fiber of her being screamed at her to charge, to drive her knives into the creature before her, Gabrielle had to know. Part of her, no matter how hard she had tried to tamp that part down, no matter how many hours she had spent pointing out the facts, reliving the lies, accepting the truth for what it was and realizing she had been used as a host for a creature- part of her still remembered the child, the newborn she had held to her breasts for one single day before fate had seen them part. Part of her still remembered the pain, still remembered the love, as misplaced as it had been, and part of her still looked at the creature before her, the monster standing bathed in the moonlight in the ruins of her father's temple, and remembered her child. So she had to know. "Why are you...?"

"You were pure," Hope said, glancing towards the long since dried out corpse that laid on the other side of the remains of the dais. "You were pure of heart, tricked into your first kill, so I fed off that purity and created my form. Meridian, when you never showed, willingly murdered so I could come into being. She had already accepted Father into her heart, happily held the darkness within, welcomed me with open arms..." Her voice trailing off into the chittering, Hope moved- fast, faster than Gabrielle would have thought possible had she not experienced it before, moving to the other side of the dais before Gabrielle could even begin to turn.

Leaning down, Hope's claw cut through the desiccated corpse, slicing off a finger. Impaling it on the tip of her claw, she brought it to her mouth, her fleshy mandibles slowly feeding it into her hole, where misshapen, twisted teeth ground and an almost proboscis-like tongue helped her swallow.

"Meridian's intent, her impurities, combined with the fact that Father's temple had been desecrated, the ceremony rushed?" Hope kept her voice light as she finished her snack, turning her gaze once more back towards Gabrielle. "It's a miracle I'm even human at all. I should have taken much more after Father. But his memories of you- of how sweet you were on his alter- let me keep my true form, at least in part. And when she tried to claim me,” Hope added almost as an afterthought, “I killed her. Made myself stay yours, Mother." Hope smiled- a gruesome sight- and took a step forward, only to pause as Gabrielle's knives rose, leveling at her chest.

"You're not mine," Gabrielle said one final time, "and you never were."

She let out a cry as she lunged forward, dropping to her knees as Hope swiped upwards, carving the air with her claw. Sliding forward, ignoring the dust and dirt scraping her skin, Gabrielle sunk her dagger deep into Hope's thigh, gagging as the smell of rotten blood filled her nose as black, almost pus-like liquid began to seep from the wound. Jerking back her blade, rolling away as Hope let out a roar and brought both of her claws down where Gabrielle had once been, she quickly scrambled to her feet, beginning to circle the creature that called her kin.

"You can't kill me, Mother," Hope spat, turning to keep Gabrielle in her line of sight as Gabrielle circled around her, her claws raised, her weight shifted to one side as she tried to avoid the wound in her thigh. "I'm too old for poison, and there's no grandson for you to manipulate this time. You can hurt me," she admitted, glancing down for a quick second at the seeping gash, "but this fight will only end in your death."

No answer prepared- what did she have to say, except that she had accepted her own death a long time ago?- Gabrielle readied herself to spring, her knives held tight, ready to drive them into Hope's chest, her throat, her face, anything that would bring an end to the monster that stood before her and-

"Gabrielle!"

Xena's voice froze them both, neither of their gazes leaving the other, neither daring to move. Gabrielle hoping that Xena would turn, would look for her somewhere else, would leave them to finish this fight without her. Because Gabrielle was determined to die if that was what it took to make sure Hope never left this place, and that was a goal easier reached if she didn't have to worry about Xena trying to stop her.

And Hope out of fear; the first emotion other than anger that had crossed Hope's face. She was afraid of Xena, terrified of her, that clear in the gaze that Hope kept trained upon her.

Even though she wanted to do the exact opposite, Gabrielle responded.

"Xena! Over here, in the temple!"

"I'm going to make you pay, Mother," Hope hissed as she tried to retreat, Gabrielle sticking close, lashing out with her knives. She only hit once, scoring a long line down the length of Hope's arm- the rest were misses as Hope dodged, her body a blur as she avoided Gabrielle's attacks. Finally twisting, managing to get behind Gabrielle and land a kick to the back of her knees, bringing her down, Hope snarled an almost smile as she stood above Gabrielle, staring down at her as Gabrielle turned on the floor to face her. "I'm going to destroy everything you love, everything you hold dear, show you just how useless your changes are. Starting with your whore’s little son."

"Get away from her!"

Hope shrieked as the chakram buried itself into her side, her claw hooking into the circle and drawing it out, splattering Gabrielle’s face with more of her thick, foul smelling blood. Throwing it back towards Xena- who caught it, ignoring the covering of black- Hope darted off into the darkness, screeching her pain and anger into the sky above.

"Gabrielle," Xena said, hurrying to her side. Bending down, Xena pulled Gabrielle's hand away from her face, using her own fingers to wipe away the crap that covered her sight. Only for Gabrielle to push her away, pointing in the direction Hope had taken off in, her own hand scrambling at the burning on her face as she tried to clear Hope’s blood from her eyes.

"Xena, go after her," Gabrielle ordered, pushing Xena away, trying and failing to push herself to her feet, her blurred sight and her cut back protesting the movements. "We need to find her, kill her, make sure she doesn't escape. We need to-"

"Gabrielle," Xena said, her voice loud, protesting, "you're hurt and can barely see. We need to tend to your-"

"She's going to kill Solan."

Xena didn't say a word- Gabrielle wouldn't have known she had left if it wasn't for the sudden lack of presence, Xena's warmth gone as she took off after Hope. Ripping off her shirt, Gabrielle scrubbed at her face- rather a ruined piece of cloth than ruined eyes. Already they were beginning to clear, tears falling down her cheeks as Hope's blood made them water and burn, but already her sight was returning. Blurred, painful, the light of the moon even too much, far too strong with her eyes this weakened. But slowly it passed, the blurred shapes becoming sharper, the image growing clearer, until eventually all that remained was a slight sting whenever she blinked.

Pulling back on her shirt, wincing at the sticky coating that bound the fabric to her skin, Gabrielle pushed herself to her feet, gathering her knives as she found them- she had dropped them when she had fallen, her hands instinctively throwing out to catch herself as she fell. Each step hurt- her knees were bloody, bits of dust and grit ground into the wounds, the gash in her back throbbing with every move she made.

But none of that mattered. Because even though she had done everything possible to make sure the future was safe, to make sure their lives were secure, Hope still existed.

Hope had to be stopped.

By the time she could fully see, by the time she could begin to hunt down Hope, put an end to her right here and now, Xena had already returned, her face grim. They didn't need to speak- Xena had lost the trail. Whether because Hope took to the trees or used her power to escape, Gabrielle wasn't sure. Couldn't be sure, not without having been there to track her herself, and by now the trail would have long since gone cold.

And even if it had been warm, as Gabrielle tried to turn and lead the way out of the temple she fell, her head spinning as everything, the lack of sleep, the slow but steady loss of blood, the shock that Hope was real, was here, that she still existed within their realm and still posed a threat- it all caught up to her. She was shaking as Xena helped her to her feet, as they both made their way back towards their camp.

They didn't say anything, not until a pot of water was boiling, until Gabrielle had been stripped of her clothes and laid out on the bedroll on her stomach, Xena tending to her back. A poultice spread over the wound, thread and needle at the ready once the water had finished boiling and Xena could wipe her clean- that was when Xena finally spoke.

"Gabrielle," Xena said as she dipped a cloth into the boiling water, wincing as the steam burned her fingers, "what was that thing?"

"My daughter."

Gabrielle felt more than heard the pot knocking over, the sudden smell of wet burning wood and Xena cursing as she tried to avoid the boiling water and kick the pot from the flames telling her what had happened. Pushing herself upwards, putting her weight on her elbows so she could look at Xena, Gabrielle looked up and met her gaze- the confusion, the anger, the disbelief that warred across Xena's face as she just stared at her. Stared at her and tried to make sense of what Gabrielle was saying, what she meant, how in all the worlds that thing could be her kin.

"Let me get another pot of water," Xena finally said, "and then you have a story to tell."

So Gabrielle did. When Xena returned from the river, when she had boiled the water and begun washing the dried blood and herbs and dirt from Gabrielle's back, cleaning her skin for the stitches she would need (the second time Xena had had to stitch her back back together, something Gabrielle knew she would have to watch out for in the future), Gabrielle began to speak.

Speak about the first time they had come to Britannia, Krafstar by their side. Told her about their capture, about their dealings with Caesar, about the coming war that had so consumed Xena's mind. About the kindness Krafstar had shown her, about the message he had whispered in her ear, about the promise of good that could be done if their god was to rule. About his offer to keep her safe, about his companions, who had welcomes her into their fold.

About the murder, about the alter, about the fire that had seared her inside and out, leaving her hollowed yet filled, a seed neither of them had known about until it was too late, until the child was already grown and born and held in her arms. About Xena's decree that it needed to die, about her lie to protect the child she had thought innocent.

About Hope's growth, Callisto's involvements, Solan's death. About their hatred and Illusia. About the fire pit that had almost made them both burn.

As Xena tended to her back, slowly stitching the wound back together (occasionally pausing, her hands freezing as she listened to Gabrielle’s tale, only just controlling her emotions long enough, after a few moments, to continue), Gabrielle told her everything. Because that had been their downfall in their last lives, lies that had separated them, kept them apart, made it so hatred could grow and build and twist them into people they weren't. This was no time for lies, no times for hidden truths- while tonight they were delayed, her injuries holding them up, tomorrow they needed to get going. Get on a ship, head towards the centaurs, make sure Solan was alive and safe and well, protect him from Hope until they could find a way to defeat her. She was scared of Xena, that was clear- perhaps Xena would be her downfall, in this life.

So Gabrielle told her everything as Xena worked, her words occasionally hissed through gritted teeth as Xena sewed her skin shut and bandaged the wounds, but still through the pain, she told her everything. Almost.

She still told her it all under the guise of a vision, because there wasn't time right now. Not to explain the fact that their entire world was a repeat, a second chance to save her. There wasn't time to go through their entire lives, only this little bit to make sure Xena understood what was going on, who Hope was, why they needed to hunt her down and make sure she never saw another day.

But by the gods, she was tired. Tired of living this lie, this series of truths all wrapped up in a pretty little bow to make it easier to explain, easier for Xena to accept. Tired of being scared of explaining, tired of worrying that Xena would look at her like she was insane, tired of Xena possibly rethinking and doubting their entire lives so far. She was tired of trying to change the world alone.

So she made the decision then, when Solan was safe, when they had time to sit and talk, she would tell Xena then. Tell her everything, and hope that Xena trusted her enough to lead them to a different, better future.

But for the night she told Xena what she needed to know under a guise as Xena worked, and shrugged her way through the questions her story brought.

“Why does it still claim you as mother,” Xena finally asked when the last stitch had been placed, as she helped Gabrielle to sit up so she could wrap bandages around her torso to keep the wound clean. “Someone else took your place.”

“The gods remember how the world was supposed to be,” Gabrielle explained, everything about her, even her voice, tired. “The Fates remember, just like I do. And Dahok is more powerful than the gods, than any of them. For some reason he chose me to bring her into the world-“

“And when we went to Chin instead,” Xena cut in, “he made do with someone else.”

“But he still wanted me,” Gabrielle continued, ignoring the tone of Xena’s voice- hard, just hiding a layer of fury beneath it. Whether Xena was angry at her or what Dahok had done in the past or the world at large, Gabrielle wasn’t sure. But either way she was too tired to deal with Xena’s emotions on top of her own. “He gave Hope his memories of the world before we changed it, and so she still claims me. And blames me for everything I did. Or was going to do,” she added, her mouth twisting in a humorless smile. “Blames me for killing her, when I finally accepted that my daughter had to die.”

“She’s not your daughter,” Xena said, almost viciously, as if her words could fight her battle for her. But after that she fell silent, her hands continuing to wrap the bandages around Gabrielle, shifting them every once in a while to make sure her back was entirely covered. “Gabrielle…” Xena finally said, her words slow. “About what you told me, about what happened between us in your vision…”

“The result of lies and hatred we allowed to grow,” Gabrielle said, fighting against the urge to shrug and pull on her stitches. Instead she turned to look over her shoulder, forcing a small smile as she met Xena’s gaze. “Something I’m trying to change, Xena. This time, Solan will live. And all that’ll be left are my memories of us losing him.”

“Do you have a lot of memories like that,” Xena asked, one hand pausing in its task to reach up, one finger gently brushing against Gabrielle’s temple. “Memories of lives not lived, of choices we changed to create something new?”

“More than you can imagine,” Gabrielle said softly, her voice almost a whisper as she leaned into Xena’s touch, allowing her eyes to close. “And many more I’m hoping will turn that way.” Turning her head, she placed a kiss onto Xena’s palm, sighing as Xena’s thumb wiped away the tear that fell. “When we’ve defeated Hope,” Gabrielle finally said into the silence that had fallen between them, “I want to tell you everything, Xena. About the future, the past that we’ve changed, the way the present has shifted- you deserve to know it all,” she finished, opening her eyes and returning Xena’s gaze. “Just like I do, you deserve to know.”

Know that this was their second time, at least for her, falling in love. Know that they were soulmates, know about the trials and changes waiting for them, know about the lives they had once lived. Know about Callisto and Eve and yes, even Japa; Xena had the right to know. To know and make her own choices, not just live off her word that things were changing for the better.

Gabrielle was going to make sure she lived- there were no questions about that. Whatever she had to do to insure Xena survived whatever may come, she would do it. But Xena deserved at least somewhat of a choice, some say in the future they were to live together, even if only in part.

So Gabrielle would tell her. And, together, they would face the future to come.

But after Hope was dead.

#Xena #XWP #Xena: Warrior Princess #Xena fanfic #Xena fanfiction #XWP fanfic #XWP fanfiction #Xena: Warrior Princess Fanfiction #Xena: Warrior Princess fanfic #Remember All

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tomerasange · 5 years ago

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Chapter 10: Wyvern Tor

“Your punishment for the actions taken today will be significant and swift. You are hereby banned from the arena, and you will be expelled from the walls of this city.” “Damn your consequences! I am here for victory, and you have stolen it from me!” “We have rules you must abide by.” “I will have my justice and vengeance. I swear my life on this.”

As I awoke, the words of a memory reeling in my head, I could see my effects in the room sustained by the morning air. The night hung on my conscious person, and I arose to greet the day.

My hair was starting to fray and crosshatch from its standard curtain of poise, and my personal opinion was the sooner I could find a measure of peace, the sooner I could attend to my appearance once more. Somehow never to know peace in the traditional sense again, I heard a clatter and a boom from below my location. I could only guess to the reason, and I dressed and descended.

In the tavern’s main room, Urnig had awoken and in a fit of action was eyeing up a half-orc, who was acting in earnest. In a ceremonial beating of the chest, Urnig challenged the half-orc to a contest of might. They had locked arms in a test of strength, only for Urnig to find himself clocked upside the head and driven into the floor. Epide and Artemis sat off to the side with breakfast cheering on the scrum as Fardahr dug into his plate of humble meats. The barkeep was in a row over this impromptu melee, crying out, “Why must you have this dispute in my bar? Can’t this be held outside?”

In a moment of lucidity, I decided against involving myself with the hoi polloi, lest I suffer a deck against the cheek. I walked towards the front of the inn and tried to redirect the poor barkeep’s attention with a nonemotional response. “Just allow them to have this moment, darling. Now, onto breakfast. I think a coffee and... perhaps a light serving of bread.”

The barkeep only shook his head in disbelief, and turned to his work. As I proceeded to survey the ongoing fight, Urnig went for another attack. The half-orc blocked heartily again, and ended it with a punctuated blow. Both Epide and Artemis were stunned that Urnig, the mountainous sorcerer whose violence met no quarter, was fell by this newcomer. I walked over, silver tongue at the ready, to engage with our guest.

“My, my. Quite the showing, there. Absolutely powerful. The name is Tomera Sange. And what might your name be?” “Rokk” “Pleasure to meet you, kind sir. I must ask, however... why did you choose to fight our friend?” “Challenged me” “I see, I see. I must ask, out of sheer curiosity, what your purpose is in Phandalin.” “Lord’s Alliance sent me. I’m your backup.”

A chill and sudden flattening of mood swept though me in a perhaps comedic sense. While I did find another ally in our party perfectly acceptable, to think the Alliance was growing tired of our supposed lack of results. Perhaps they were worried that Glasstaff’s betrayal might occur once more. Perhaps they were still concerned about the safety of Gundren, whose location still evaded us. Perhaps Sildar had been so concerned with other incidents that his report read in listed form cut down to only needed details, like the events of a warfront, and failed to acknowledge we might have no need for backup.

I kept a diplomatic face. “Ah, yes. The Lord’s Alliance! Wonderful, darling. As a representative, I will see fit that you are acquainted well into our group.”

Rokk only nodded in curt acknowledgement and sat down with Artemis and Epide. Urnig, still reeling from the fight, stood up and dusted himself off, content with the results. At this time, Aurora joined us downstairs. With the group rejoined, we greeted our newest company member:

ROKK, the Half-Orc Fighter. He wielded a wooden club with a measure of unbridled confidence, and possessed a fighting style quite unlike mine. A brutish and physically taxing art, he seemed more adept at taking blows than most of my compatriots, let alone my own frame. While we were deciding towards our day’s itinerary, Artemis took a vested interest in talking with him, wanting to know of his exploits.

We sought out the decision for our next exploit. Given we weren’t any closer to discovering the location of Wave Echo Cave, and a travel towards Thundertree seemed like it could wait for us, we agreed that clearing the Triboar Trail would do us and Phandalin the most good. The seasons were turning a colder sorts, and soon winter would come to the continent.

As I examined a map of the Sword Coast, I realized this would be quite advantageous for my reputation. Clearing the Triboar Trail would allow supplies to flow between the North and East and Neverwinter, and in addition give the chieftain of Triboar more weight in the continent’s economy by superseding the high and low Dessarin Valley and Long Trail via the town of Beliard, another frontier town even smaller than Phandalin. Having convened with Triboar’s leader, this would give me a great reputation of one who secured the trade routes.

We set off for town and upon closer examination of the distance to travel, it would take roughly a half day’s travel to the settlement of Wyvern Tor, where most activity was occurring on the trail.

Aurora made the initial suggestion. “Perhaps it would be a boon for our purposes to rent a team of horses and cart for travel. If we come across a lode or treasure.” “So, a visit to Barthen’s Provisions before we leave?” “Would be in our favor.”

As we approached the storehouse, the workers were hard pressed at work unloading supplies for the town, having no more concern for raids by the Redbrands. Barthen was in his store when we arrived. “Aye, welcome back! I’d like to thank you again for your work on the town. You’ve given me and a great deal of people a good boost of confidence. Now, what will you be needin’ today?” Aurora handled the transaction. “We are in the need of a team of horses and a cart to pull. Off to Wyvern Tor to halt the orc raids, and we might happen across some interesting pieces. At the very least, we’ll be given transportation.” “Smart on you to do that. I’ll have the lads hitch a team for you, and that’d run you... twenty gold to rent. In addition, I’d expect additional fees in the case of damages to the cart or horses. Bottom line and all that.” “Of course.” Aurora looked back to me with a knowing stare, and it occurred to me we were in the most advantageous position financially to rent the cart. We payed our share, and awaited outside for the cart.

The midday sun hung high above the town as we set off North. At the helm was Fardahr, driving the horses. Urnig and Rokk took to covering the sides of the cart. Epide, Artemis, Aurora, and I sat in back. I thought back to my first travels toward Phandalin, nearly a week’s time removed from my current situation. And yet, the ease of the ride brought back a similar fondness. The sun and peace let me rest my eyes for a moment.

As we neared the Wyvern Tor, the cart jolted to a halt. I was awoken to the sight of Fardahr looking off in the distance. “What’s the matter, Fardahr?” “Can’t tell. I’m seeing odd movement up ahead.”

I readied my sword in preparation, only to be nearly thrown from the cart as the horses bucked. Something terrified the creatures and the cart took off. Fardahr still at the helm, I had to make a quick decision, and in the confusion I jumped from the wagon. Thinking the wooded area would have a measure of soft loam, I was immediately hoist by my hubris as the ground gave way to a hardened soil. My shoulder hit the ground with a thud and I tried to gingerly ascend to my feet. As I tried to scan for what Fardahr had detected, I could see in the tree line to the left of the road that weapons had been drawn.

As I ran ahead, rapier drawn, I could see Urnig and Artemis pinned in a swarm of vile creatures. They appeared as giant insects, flying and encircling with rapidly beating wings and bodies filled with claret, a long and sharp proboscis the instrument of torture. Aurora had taken her harp from her side and dipped behind a covering in preparation to unleash her magic. Seeing me, she exclaimed, “What a situation we’ve found ourselves in!” I couldn’t agree more, as several of the vermin flew into our vicinity.

From behind, Fardahr wielded his crossbow and attempted to catch one of them before it collided with us. The bowstring snapped with authority, but the arrow soared wide, as the insects continued on our trajectory. Aurora met one in combat, but was quickly stabbed through the arm.

As I set my eyes on one of the smaller blights, the creature lost its height and collapsed to the ground. Turning about, I could see a familiar figure standing no more than six inches tall, floating in a bag of detritus and odors. Epide had cast a spell of sleep on the local fauna, making our task that much easier. Unfortunately, this had the added consequence of putting Fardahr immediately out of commission. This matter would have to be attended to before our eventual conquest against the orc population.

Having seen another of the flying creatures darting into my vision, I stuck the rapier through its carapace, instantly dispatching the creature. It was in this sudden attempt at skewering my foe I remembered the creature was filled to the brim with the blood and sinew of local creatures, and my blade was immediately coated with the viscous red. Gently, I set about removing the still twitching corpse from its perch, which proved simple given the base anatomy of this particular specimen. Still, the effort was disgusting, and I would need to clean my blade in the aftermath.

As the fight progressed, I could see Rokk pulling his measure of the fight. With a unheard-of measure of dexterity, he plucked one of the insects from mid-air and proceeded to bash it into a nearby tree. The resulting mess caused that portion of the field to be drenched in claret.

In this moment, I sought to help Aurora with the creature that had stabbed her through, but before I could react, she had used her rapier to silence the creature. With a taut and simple “No”, acknowledging the corpse that lay at her feet, she rose, ready to dive back into the fray.

Urnig, seeing his sparring partner take the opportunity to destroy one of the insects with brute force, thought it fair to in turn unleash his magic savagery on one of the insects that had flown into his range. With a fist that rivaled my own skull in size, he grabbed the creature, and cast a blast of magic, slamming the beast over his knee and producing a similar explosion of blood that coated his entire body. Perhaps my time with Urnig had dulled my senses to abhorrent violence, or perhaps I was allowed predisposition, as such from my history of battle, but a peculiar sense of calm washed over my person knowing his simple savagery might win us the day.

Our halfling companion Artemis sought out one of the insects in the swarm she was entangled in and with a further brutal showing used her own rapier to cleave one of them in twain. This was further compiled upon as she used her boot to grind the body into the ground, effectively rendering any postmortem movement silent.

With most of the assault dispersed, Epide took this time to attempt to wake the sleeping Fardahr. The dwarf slept fitfully, a loud commotion coming from his person. A few slaps across the face proved incapable of rousing the man, so Epide, in a fit of complete madness from my perspective, dumped his floating bag of water, his method of transport and container of various corpse trophies, onto the sleeping victim. Fardahr arose from his sleep and immediately at the presence of the stench retched his breakfast twice over.

Epide was not complete with his effort of madness, as he began to run about, leaping onto one of the already dispatched insect and ripping its nose off in an effort to find a suitable weapon. This nose was, in essence, a shortsword to Epide, and I applaud his improvisation, but still condemn his method.

Having now reduced our quarry to two remaining foes, one of which remained asleep from Epide’s spell, I stepped toward the tree line and wielded my blade with a flourish to run the insect through. A costly mistake, as the blade fail to land the killing blow. Rokk, at this point next to my own person, to his chance to land the blow to conclude this fight. Unceremoniously, he missed the swing of his club, and we were both stunned in silence. Which gave way to a tirade of both Rokk and I unsure why this creature was not dead. Artemis, for her part, began rolling on the ground peeling with laughter at our misfortune. While I don’t recall what was said between Rokk and I, the resulting commotion might have been the triggering incident to cause what came next.

As Artemis lie in tears of joy over this sight of incompetence and Urnig dispatched another of the insects for good measure by slamming it into the same tree Rokk had previously used, a sudden rumble from the ground arose. In the woods to my left, the sound of a roar shook the air. It filled me with an oncoming sense of horror, as the very structure of my body was suddenly shaking with the reverberations of the air.

I turned to see a massive form rise out of the wood. I only had to notice the creature’s face to know what matter of violent beast had been summoned by the commotion. This was an owlbear, a creature born of the fiery imagination of lore and reality, a great beast that many knights of yore have slain and few have tamed. To now come upon its form was a measure of daunting I was not prepared to witness.

With a grown sense of immediacy, Fardahr loosed a bolt from his crossbow, only to see the projectile snap against the beak of the owlbear, doing no damage to the beast. If any result occurred, it was the owlbear’s humor becoming perturbed, and I found myself face to face with the creature.

Before I could make my attack against it, the owlbear reared back its claw and swung, connecting with my body. The two entry wounds where I had been impaled with javelins days earlier immediately opened, and as I was thrown against a tree, I could see my blood began to pool on my attire, the red staining my white under attire through. It took all of my fortitude to remain awake in this sense, as I saw the others begin to take their measures in retaliation.

Epide, though small in stature, raised his hands in defiance. Again, a vibration shook the area, as the ground turned in on itself. Below the owlbear, the earth became near impossible terrain, and Epide jumped for joy at the sight of the temporarily confused creature. Taking advantage of this distraction, Rokk took the chance to summon a well of energy and his eyes became a visage of death. With the fighting spirit of a whole regiment, he unleashed a vicious assault on the owlbear, yet the creature held firm.

As I roused myself to wake, I found myself cornered by the last of the insects, with the owlbear’s back turned. Were I to choose a target, it would have to be one that did not pose immediate threat to my wellbeing upon a strike. I lunged in desperation at the insect, as it dodged frightfully out of my grasp. I was beset by fear, violent and tremendous, and I stabbed further still at the owlbear. Again, no luck, and I felt my arm give way to intense pain. The only measure that remained was to flee from the melee in an act of desperation. As I ran in self-preservation, I felt the warm breath of the owlbear on my back, and was met with a stab of pain as the beak wrought itself into my back.

I was safe and away for the time being, but it was clear that I would by on death’s door if struck again. I collapsed to the ground, blood now seeping throughout my clothing. From afar, I only had time to see the hand of Aurora rise up through half-closed eyes, and I felt a burst of magic run through my person. One of assurance and protection, no doubt, but inherently still my being had been compromised. All i heard in my head, ringing like the bells of a cathedral.

I am a coward

I saw Aurora raise her hand again, this time in the direction of the owlbear. With a pluck of the strings, the beast burst into a conflagration. I could not appreciate this move fully, only feel the burning sear of the flames and the rancid smell of flesh and fur alight, only further choking my senses.

Fardahr dove beside me, and with a tuck and roll let loose another bolt towards the owlbear. Striking dead center in the face, the resulting spray of bodily fluids mingled with the flames, setting the face in a permanent shriek as the body collapsed and lay still. I hadn’t the will to cheer or whoop in excitement. Aurora immediately extinguished the fire and set about the body along with Epide. He later gathered the corpses of the insects for his vile machinations.

As I lay there, blood still pooling about me, I felt the warm touch of a guiding hand. I was not unconscious but still beyond any measure of good health, and the divine spell Fardahr cast on me aroused me from my state. My blood began to retreat back into my person, and my wounds were sealed in a process that despite its effect did not hurt or cut with pain. I sat up, with Fardahr holding my shoulder. “You gave me a scare, young man. Are you okay?”

I shook my head awake, my hair a tangled mess getting into my eyes. “I am now. Thank you, Fardahr.” I stood up, groggy and unstable, but better still. Patting his shoulder in acknowledgment of service, I stood up and made my way back to the horse cart. Only to hear further retching from behind me.

Aurora was beside herself with joy at the sight of an intact owlbear. I could see her eyes alight with glee at the prospect of the clothes this pelt would divine. The feathers adorning the arms and legs were still in beautiful condition as adornments. Even the teeth could be split, separated, dried, and crafted into ivory jewelry of untold wealth. I am only keen to this as Aurora began listing these elements shortly after we loaded its corpse into the horse cart, a bit of mania overtaking her eyes in anticipation for its dissection. We were slower going, and it only aided my situation as I still felt a measure of pain while walking. At some point, we halted and I was loaded onto the driver’s perch with Fardahr, allowed to rest and recoup. It was still fitful, having to sleep some time next to the creature that nearly ended my corporeal existence.

The Wyvern Tor itself is a crevasse in the hills of the Triboar Trail, and despite utilizing this route in the tour towards Neverwinter, my caravan had stayed north of the locale, having been alerted previously by members of Triboar of the orc camp. The natural feature has held many different hosts of fauna, given it’s advantageous position when seen from the trail. As we neared the location of the tor, I first smelled the telltale signs of a campfire. We could hear two orcs posted as guards towards the mouth of a cave, with others still in the open. I received in my mind a flash of the goblin outcropping that began our time in service.

By the time the cart stopped some distance away, my injuries had been attended to, as had Aurora and Urnig. While I was clearly in better health, I couldn’t shake the feeling of horror the owlbear had beset upon me. I had never seen a beast as large nor as powerful in combat. I was deemed only useful in duels of honor and fairness. Surely, I had realize the world did not allow for such contests consistently. Surely. Yet, in the deepest hole of my mind, I felt betrayed by this turn of events and fearful still for my life.

We huddled in planning, and agreed Artemis would take the first stab at the orcs, in both a figurative and literal sense. Her size and speed combined with precision would allow a swift attack and retreat back into our party’s numbers. We lie in wait, preparing our methods of war, as Artemis clutched her daggers with pause. Then, she was off.

Across the field she tore through the grass, faster than anyone had anticipated. Rounding the circumference of the open field against the trees, she rounded the final corner and went for the orc guard on the right. In a flash, she slammed headfirst into it and cut the throat, an instant and painless death. Further still, she marked the other guard and again tore into it, a bass cry of pain ringing through the air. With a dash back, she had given us the element of surprise.

With a ravenous want, Epide saw the corpse and began to run towards it across the ground. The blood that had sprayed from the orc’s body apparently was enough to distract him, as he bathed in it like a duck bathes in a lake. Despite this horrid distraction, he still summoned the wherewithal to again form the ground anew, creating a pitfall that trapped one of the orcs.

Fardahr, having reconstituted himself from retching, began to channel a spell with a mischievous look on his face. A form of light took shape on front of him, but suddenly a look of frustration came across his demeanor. Having resigned himself, almost as if the god of his dominion came to warn against a cruel prank, he concentrated further and produced an iron brand, still wielding with an air of confidence. I was confused by the sight, but was quickly made aware of the power of a holy weapon as Fardahr hurled it towards a nearby orc, striking it clean.

Artemis, having set herself once more towards the orcs, struck the trapped orc and produced a rude gesture in its direction. Against the field, I could see more and more a chaotic, ramshackle fighting. I was still in pain. I was still terrified of the scene before me. But again, I felt magic turn to me, as Aurora cast a spell against me. I was grateful for her art, and only wished I could repay in kind her help. I grasped my bow and arrow and took aim at an orc, but my hand slipped in disorientation, ricocheting off the brand. I was lost.

Artemis again was engaged in combat, dodging and weaving with precision, all strikes against her missed.

I’m back where I started.

Fardahr took a shot and found his mark.

Five years alone, talent wasted.

Rokk, without mercy, decapitated an orc and let a war cry.

I’ll just hope to fire my bow from afar and not get hit. This accursed weapon. It’s brought me nothing but strife.

As it looked like my group of fellow travelers were on the cusp of turning the fight and seizing victory, we were stunned to silence as a mighty roar escaped the cave. From inside, only darkness permeated. Only dank and must. Only sound escaped the cave.

And then it came.

#tomera #spoilers #dnd #dnd story #dnd log #lost mine of phandelver #air genasi #fighter #chapter 10

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daedamnatus · 7 years ago

Text

Lar goes gun shopping

majinkura replied:

Lar was all yeah,try me bitch! *whips out gun*

Would have loved to see him fight more…you know..if he wasn’t being mobbed by Strigoi,in a more controlled environment.

daedamnatus replied:

I’m fixing this as we speak! Might even use your post as a writing prompt.

More Lefty Lar love!

As promised, some action scene with Lar! and some drama. Because I’m horrible.

Footsteps were audible in the hallways, reaching their room and Lex got up as he saw Vaun and Lar stepping in the operations room. They both saw Quinlan lounging in his chair, fingers meshed over his midsection and the Born did not move. Lar crossed his arms and Vaun addressed Lex directly.

“Nice of you to make friends with the old man but we have a job for you.”

“Ah, and no chaperon this time?”

“Duz will be minding the Born in your absence.”

From his seating position, Quinlan loudly scoffed, mocking the Sun Hunter.

“Come on,” Lar said, his narrow black eyes lingering on Quinlan before he motioned for Lex to follow him.

They walked until they reached the armory and Lar unlocked a cabinet to retrieve a small metal suitcase.

“We usually do this via proxy,” he told him, placing the case on the workbench. He punched in a combination and opened the lid. “But times are changing.”

It was filled with cash. US dollars in small cuts. Lex tried to quickly calculate the sum but Lar closed the lid before he could finish.

“I always wanted to go shopping with vampires,” he said, ironic.

Lar exposed his short white teeth before picking up an eighteen ammo clip for his pistol.

“We’re going to pick up an order. If we’re going to expand, we’ll need more rifles and a new arsenal.”

He checked his gun before loading a round in the chamber and holstered the weapon to his left. Lex took the same precaution, making sure he wouldn’t fall short in case of heavy fire.

Lar drove the Tahoe out in the night, having pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. Lex couldn’t drive that way, but he didn’t have the fine hearing of strigoi who compensated for blind spots. Lar took them south, in direction of the airport. Lex tried to make conversation.

“So, who are we meeting?”

Under the passing street lamps he could see Lar’s focused expression as he kept both hands on the steering wheel.

“Our overseas contractor,” he told him. “We’ve been working with them for a long time. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

They reached the industrial storage areas far from the airport grounds. Lex had taken this route a few times to avoid traffic on his work commute. Lar steered into a dark yard with an already open security gate.

“How do we know it’s safe here?”

Lar stopped the car once they entered an airplane hangar. It looked out of order and was empty. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see a van parked right in front of them, fifty paces away.

Lar unfastened his seat belt and looked over at Lex.

“Let me do the talking.”

He could see movement around the black van in front of them, and the headlights came on. He saw at least two armed men wearing green camouflage, balaclava and black combat vests were now standing outside in the hangar.

“Professor Setrakian called me muscle earlier,” thoughtfully commented Lex. “I can get used to not talking.”

“Good.”

Lar opened the door and Lex followed, he kept his eyes peeled as he saw a third individual coming out of the passenger’s side of the bigger vehicle. A female in a long black trench coat. She had blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She was dolled up like an air hostess.

“Dobryy vecher,” she spoke in quaint Russian.

Lex only understood the greeting, the rest was just noise to him. Lar responded in equal measure, his mastery of the language catching him aback. He still couldn’t pinpoint where his slight accent came from.

“Priyatna nakonets vstretit'sya lichna.” It was good to see her in person, apparently. Lar’s hands were not far from his holster as he tilted his head towards the armed henchmen behind the blonde. “Vse v poryadke?” Is there something wrong?

She smiled back at him, squinting her eyes. “Net.” She spoke again in a long sentence Lex couldn’t completely decipher. She held her shoulders rigid, feet set apart and her hands dug deep in her coat pockets.

Lar used his right hand to pull back his hood, exposing his face to the woman. Her smile faded and the mercenaries behind her raised their black, special operations AK-47’s.

“Uspokoysya,” Lar told them to calm down, his lips tilting up as he took a slow step forward. He eventually got close enough to the woman and he spoke even more quietly, but Lex heard him nonetheless. “This place is surrounded by strigoi. If you kill us, you eliminate your only chance to get out of here alive.”

She lifted up her chin in defiance, pursing her red-painted lips.

“We have enough guns and explosives to last until sunrise,” she spoke back with almost no accent.

“My guns,” he corrected, standing only slightly taller than her. “And since we’re on the topic: you picked a poorly secured location. I’m cutting off your share for whatever we waste in ammunition to get us out of here.”

The Russian bodyguards got antsy and looked at each other before aiming their sights on Lar and him. But Lar extended a hand in his direction. Lex complied and did not respond to the threat.

“Tell your men to stand down,” he hissed. “Or I’ll dispose of them myself and save you the expenses.”

She turned her head and ordered her associates to lower their weapons. They obeyed her, but not after a moment of hesitation. Lex kept his wits about them. Russian mobsters who had access to guns were generally trained by the FSB and were in shortage of work. He never thought he’d ever encounter the Spetsnaz before, lest imagined he’d be dealing with them siding with a strigoi.

Lar signaled for him to go to their car. Lex came back with the heavy suitcase which he opened for Lar to divide the shares. One of the Russians arrived with an empty duffle bag and Lar began to fill it with money.

“A hundred thousand was what we agreed on the phone, you get half of it now. The other half, minus the wasted ammo when we’re done here.”

The blonde gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils but kept a relaxed demeanor. Lex hoped she could hear the rattles and growling of incoming rogue strigoi all around the hangar.

“You’re exactly the confident man I imagined for all those years,” she told Lar, her eyes riveted on him, not displaying any sign of worry about the cash transfer. “Everything seems to be going well for you. Almost as if you had planned this.”

Lar nodded to Lex and he closed the case and quickly brought it back to the truck. When he arrived he saw one Russian man coming back with two full duffle bags. After a quick inspection, and with Lex’s help the weapons were now in the Tahoe. When he returned he saw Lar pulling out his pistol. The Spetsnaz raised their AK’s again. His stone-cold expression was concerned on a different matter, however.

“Cover the back entrance. My associate and I will take the front.” He pointed a gloved finger at the two men and angrily warned them. “Ne strelyay v moyu mashinu!” Don’t shoot my car. They both lightly chuckled at him in response.

Lex would have laughed if his instincts weren’t amping him up for combat as he clearly heard the sounds of hungry monsters surrounding them. He followed Lar to the back of the SUV and was given a Scorpion submachine rifle. Lar slung his own weapon and disengaged the security.

He looked up at Lex and creased his forehead, worriedly repeating himself in English.

“Don’t-”

“-shoot the car,” Lex finished. “I got it.”

His half smile was reassuring. Lar nodded sharply with a friendly “spasiba” and raised his rifle towards the first strigoi who appeared in the yard outside the hangar.

The rifles had no suppressor, so the shots resonated in the wide open space in the night, the noise drawing in even more stragglers and famished, recently turned strigoi. Lex shot down the first row of mindless invaders, disturbed by the loud cracking fire of the Kalashnikovs behind him.

Twelve dead corpses littered the ground, followed by ten more as Lar advanced on their position and unclipped a frag grenade from his vest.

“Behind you!” he shouted at Lex.

Following his training, Lex lunged forward and rolled to turn around, aiming his gun at a deployed proboscis coming from an attacker, a lean but motivated blood sucker with a missing eye. Its head blew up in a white splash of brains and worms. Another one came right after, but was shot clean through the neck. Lex got to his feet and saw that the female Russian had dealt with his surprise mugger.

He turned again to see Lar reloading, but three strigoi were moving in on him. Lex shot one, two, then the third was dealt a fatal knife stab in the ear. Lar pulled it out and kicked its knee broken. The strigoi instantly fell down and the knife was thrown dead-center into a strigoi of large proportions. He shouldered his Scorpion and shot two others coming late to the party.

The front entrance was cleared but they still heard the Russians firing their weapons and the voice of the blonde drew their attention. Lar sped across the hangar and Lex ran after him, but far too slowly as a mere human. He aimed at a strigoi nearest to the van the Russians were already dealing with it, twisting its head off while the second merc was using his pistol to dispatch another.

Lar had reached the woman and shoved a strigoi that hit the side of the van with a loud bang. It screeched at him and he held out his pistol, squeezed the trigger and the truck was painted in white stains. He turned to the blonde and she was clutching her gun with steady hands. But Lar strode towards her, determined to grab her left arm and she tried to free herself from him. He rattled and he had a short knife in hand as he held her elbow locked under his right arm.

“Don’t move,” he menacingly told her, and dug his blade into the pink flesh.

She screamed with rage, deep red blood spilled from her. A worm was squiggling manically as it was making its way into her veins. Lex cringed his teeth and helped Lar by holding the woman’s other arm. The two Spetsnaz tried to help as well, by not pointing their guns at them.

The worm was out. Lar held it tightly between his gloved fingers and he threw it on the ground before stomping it. Once freed, the woman was panting and holding her bleeding forearm.

“It’s too late,” she sighed with frustration. “I’m still going to turn.”

Lar looked up and pulled out a rag from his pockets to wipe the blood from his knife. His stinger churned within his chest.

“I gave you more time,” he muttered.

“Kill me,” she bitterly said. “I’m not going to mope in my last moments.”

He stared at her, and seeing his unwillingness to comply, she nodded at her henchmen. One of the Spetsnaz heartlessly pointed his AK at her temple.

The click of Lar’s SP01 was first to grab their attention and the bodyguard-turned-executioner froze.

“Shall we finish the transaction now?” threatened Lar. “You all die, and I take back my other half of the money. Your boss will go after your families and friends for payback. How does that sound?”

The merc relented his hold of the rifle. But his boss wouldn’t settle for appeasement. She rose her gun and shot him. Lex saw with wide eyes the masked man fall to his knees, brains splashed on the white-stained truck. The second merc held up his gun.

Lex fired his Scorpion and around his head made the soldier drop his rifle. The woman fired a round, then two, which hit Lex in the chest plate. He staggered and pointed his rifle at her.

She was disarmed by Lar, who held her down by twisting her arm in her back.

“Sykin syn!” she spat. Son of a bitch.

“Net ne tak,” Lar told in her ear. “You’re not going down like this, Anya.”

Lex held his shoulder but kept his gun pointed at the merc who was leaning against the truck. He watched from the corner of his vision Lar taking the woman’s pistol and tossing it away. Her face was wet with tears when he released her. She took a deep breath but she was shaking, eyes wandering on her bloody hands. Lar pressed his lips into a slit and regretfully shook his head.

“My daughter,” she whimpered with an angered breath. “Pavla. She lives in Saint Petersburg with her cousins. Will you make sure she gets the money?”

“You have enough time to fly back home,” Lar replied. “You can say your goodbyes.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hands and let out a labored breath.

“We both know that’s not possible.”

Her steel blue eyes went from Lex, to her bodyguard, then to the one in front of her.

“I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Lar.”

His head lowered for a second. When he brought his gaze upon her again he held his back straight, left hand at his side securely holding the gun.

Lex parted his lips to speak up. Lar did before him.

“What should I tell Pavla?”

Anya looked sideways into the darkness, a shadow of a smile waved across her face.

“Something nice.”

He blinked once, then raised up his left arm.

“I’ll make sure she hears something nice then,” he spoke with a half-hearted smirk.

Lex looked away. He heard Anya’s small laugh then a pause.

The gunshot rang loudest than any other.

Darkness filled the hangar again as they watched the soldier leave with the money sitting in the back of his truck alongside the bodies of his two partners. He was contract-bound to fulfill the deal, make sure the money would go into the right hands, and guarantee that the Sun Hunters would keep a good standing with the Russians.

Sitting at the wheel of the SUV, Lar was silent, unmoving. After a quick inspection of his uniform, Lex found no worms caught in his combat gear. He glanced over to his left.

Lar had his head leaning against the backrest of his seat, and turned the key in the ignition to let the engines roar and cover the silence. Lex didn’t know what to say. He attempted an agreeable platitude.

“She seemed nic-”

“Shut up.”

He clammed up at the sight of the red-rimmed black eyes that threw darts at him. They were unscathed. They had restocked on weapons and ammunition. The relations with their contractor were preserved.

But he wasn’t too sure about Lar.

#lar #sun hunters #writing #fan fiction #prompt #super inspired to ruin someone's night #strigoi #the strain

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