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hybridequalist · 4 years ago

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Thinking Out Loud (Part 5)

I live! I write! It’s here!

Previous Chapter (tumblr link)

Taglist (Lemme know if you wanna join this, btw): @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

Your legs were bouncing as you sat in Lauren’s front seat, staring blankly out the window. You were focused on your breathing techniques to settle yourself, settle your pre-outing jitters. It had been a surprise, after all.

Eddie had called earlier and asked if you were available for a rescheduled lunch outing. You’d given the affirmative and Lauren had helpfully offered to bring you downtown to the cafe on the way to some errands she needed to run. You knew that she was offering just to be nice and give you some comfort and more time to transition to being in a social situation, but you appreciated it...even if it felt like your mom driving you to a High School dance.

The car halted at a stoplight and you automatically glanced at your landlady, just in case she wanted to talk to you.

Her finger tapped the steering wheel before she twisted to look at you, signing “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“If I’m not,” you sign back, “you’ll be the first to know. Just keep your phone close. But I think I’ll be okay. Eddie is nice.”

Lauren gave you a meaningful glance as the light turned green. Her thoughts reflected the look, full of a fierce protectiveness, one that all but screamed "if he makes you uncomfortable I will end him."

You fidgeted, tugging at the edge of your frilled blouse. You’d wanted to dress up since it was the first time in a while that you had gone out with a friend, but you were starting to remember why you never wore your nicer clothes: they were itchy and still felt too new. Just the minor friction of the less-than-comfortable fabric was stressing your nerves even more.

You took notice of the anxious energy building and took a few deep breaths before resuming the meditation breathing pattern you had learned in one of your infrequent therapy sessions. After a few minutes of focus, your heart rate slowed and you felt more grounded. You glanced away from your feet and out the window, realizing that Lauren was now looking for a parking space or some free pavement space to drop you off.

You pulled out your phone and started typing.

We just made it. Looking for a spot to stop.

Your phone indicated that Eddie had read the text. You pulled down the sunshade and checked your appearance, fiddling with the microscopic flaws that had developed.

This might be a meeting between friends, but Eddie was still a relatively new acquaintance--he was still investigating you and deciding what labels to give you. It was a time to put your best foot forward. Especially since he'd gotten a glimpse of your...issues.

You glanced at your phone, expecting to see the beginning indication of a return text, but instead you heard some muffled shouting. You automatically turned your head towards the sidewalk and saw a familiar figure waving at the car from the street.

“ EDDIE! SHE SAW US! CAN YOU HEAR US?!”

The mental yelling rang through your skull, making you wince a little at the invisible volume. You waved out at them and tapped Lauren on the shoulder before she crossed the intersection.

“Eddie is over there,” you pointed out, letting her take the time to follow your gestures and resume looking back at you. “I’ll get out here. I will call your phone if I need to get picked up and text you the details.”

“If it vibrates, I’m turning right back around,” she promised. The two of you shared a quick hug before you unbuckled yourself and stepped out. Careful of other cars, you quickly speedwalked over to the sidewalk where your friends waited.

“Good to see you again,” Eddie greeted you, lifting his hand for a high five. You smiled and reciprocated.

“ DON’T IGNORE ME ,” Venom complained, sounding for all the world like a kicked puppy. You reached up and patted the sleeve of Eddie’s jacket, where you knew the alien was hiding. The preening feeling from Venom’s thoughts made you want to laugh aloud.

“So...lunch?” Eddie asked. “Have you tried this new cafe? They really go hard into the whole ‘sourdough is the food of San Francisco' thing. Probably meant to get the tourists, but the sandwiches still are great.”

There were a lot of things to respond to in that brief sentence and you fumbled with your conversation cards, flipping through them to string together a sentence that made sense.

“No. That sounds interesting. Let’s go.”

“It’s just this way,” he gestured, straightening from bending closer to read your cards. “Stick close; we might hit some of the lunch rush on the way in.”

You grabbed another card.

“I’m not good with crowds.”

“Then we can order to go and find somewhere else to sit. It’s no problem.”

“ WE WERE GOING TO SHOW YOU MY SURPRISE FROM LAST TIME ANYWAY. THE PRIVACY WILL HELP ,” Venom added.

Eddie offered his arm and you blinked at him before you caught his thoughts. He wanted to make sure you stayed beside them since you couldn’t very easily let him know you were being left behind--not like how most people let their friends know. Venom’s feelings were tacked onto the thought, revealing that he liked the thought of you holding onto them because he could protect you better the closer you were.

You looped your arm through Eddie’s.

The walk to the cafe was silent from a vocal standpoint: Eddie and Venom conversed with one another about their thoughts on the food and their past experience, the more deliberate wording telling you that they were actually talking to you without expecting any replies. All the same, you couldn’t help but feel awkward at how every passerby viewed you--both pedestrian and driver. Most thought you were on a date, others were convinced you just didn’t want to get separated. Almost everyone wondered why you and Eddie weren’t having a conversation. After all, wasn’t it the polite thing to do when out for a walk?

“ ARE YOU LISTENING TO US, MORSEL? ”

The symbiote’s question pulled you back. You’d gotten caught up in the overwhelming noise of everyone else’s thoughts, losing your ability to distinguish internal words from external ones with the din of other people’s conversations mixed with their observations of you. But Venom’s mental voice was much louder than the humans walking past and was able to cut through the ceaseless hum.

You immediately reached for one of your cards, feeling the well worn, bent corners and not needing to check it for the words on it.

“Sorry.”

You reached for another, equally used phrase.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Hey, no worries,” Eddie replied, tone deliberately soft so as to comfort you. “You just looked like you were spacing out a bit and I wanted to make sure you were okay. We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let your friend resume guiding you, deliberately focusing on his and Venom’s thoughts to let the others fade into background noise.

“ I tried your name a few times, but you weren’t answering. I’m glad you’re okay for now. Do you think you’ll be okay in the shop? Just because it’s closer quarters. ”

“ EDDIE, WE FOUND HER IN A GROCERY STORE. I’M SURE SHE CAN HANDLE A FOOD TRANSACTION. ”

“ Do you remember the spoons metaphor I told you about? ”

“ AND I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY IT HAS TO BE SPOONS! IT JUST MAKES ME THINK OF FOOD AND I AM ALWAYS HUNGRY. ”

Their banter was comforting. Their partnership might still be relatively new by normal standards, but spending all their time together--literally every waking moment--had quickly built their bond beyond what two ordinary humans could achieve in similar circumstances. They had actually reached a point where words, while convenient to keep their identities distinct, were not entirely necessary. Images, sensations, memories, all were equal communication tools.

It almost made you jealous at how easily they could literally share their thoughts with one another. You were stuck having to pretend you were oblivious to what people really felt.

The cafe was nice and cozy. There thankfully wasn’t a huge line--it gave you plenty of time to pick what you wanted from the menu and look at the carefully selected decor of the shop (mostly to ignore the man standing behind you, who was actively checking out anyone who looked to be of age and was daring to show even an inch of skin). You typed up your order on your phone and showed it to the cashier, who thankfully took it all in stride and smoothly got the process started. Eddie ordered a healthy sandwich and a slice of very rich chocolate cake, which had Venom purring at the thought of dessert.

You slipped out of the cafe, the line having grown significantly behind you and your friends even in just the short time. You could feel a headache forming from the combined vocal and mental chatter as you held on to Eddie and let him guide you away.

“Are you okay with taking a few backroads?” he asked and you saw he’d noticed your scrunched brow. “Just for some peace and quiet away from the main street? It’s probably only going to get louder.”

You nodded vigorously and Eddie picked up his pace, practically pulling you along with his brisk speed. He guided you through an alley onto a much narrower footpath with significantly fewer pedestrians, hesitating as he silently asked Venom to help him remember the way to a green space he remembered eating at before.

You took the break to check yourself over for signs of overstimulation. So far, nothing that some cleansing breaths and food wouldn’t take care of.

And then, like a ping on a psychic radar, you heard a familiar mind call your name.

“ Y/N?! But didn’t the suits snatch her?! ”

Your eyes snapped over to where you felt his thoughts and your heart began to race as you saw a face you’d prayed would never cross paths with you again.

At a first glance, he wasn’t a physically imposing man: barely five and a half feet tall, he didn’t show any obvious muscle or have any “red flags” to his features that might suggest he was dangerous. You almost would have looked right past him--his hair hadn’t been a blonde crew cut when you’d seen him last--but those deep hazel eyes held yours prisoner. You didn’t even need your powers to see the obvious greed ravaging his thoughts.

“Y/N? Hey, are you with me?”

Eddie’s words felt like they came from far away, even with Venom echoing them with his impressive volume. You were just staring at the other man, a silent scream trapped in your mute throat.

Your sight was suddenly filled with brown leather as Eddie stood in front of you, bending over to look you in the eye.

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Are you okay? Are you present? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excuse me.” The familiar voice made your skin break out in goosebumps as a chill ran down your spine. “Ma’am, are you going to be alright?”

You jolted backwards, throwing your hands up to clamp over your ears. It was a futile attempt to block out the feeling of his mind, his thoughts, the way he felt the world and took delight in your weakness, in your fear, in the worry of the others who were witnessing your distress…

“ EDDIE, MASK? ” Venom asks.

“ It’s too public ,” his partner protested silently even as he verbally stated, “Don’t crowd her please.”

“Let’s go,” you signed frantically, unable to stop fixating. “Please.”

“Come on,” Eddie ushers you, holding out a hand for you to take--which you did with an iron grip. “It’s not far.”

You kept pace with your friends as you put rapid distance between yourself and your old acquaintance, still highly aware of those hazel eyes on you. The sound of the city faded as your feet hit grass and Eddie sat you down onto a bench, dropping to one knee by the armrest.

“What do you need me to do?” he asks, looking you over.

“ WHAT CAN WE DO? ” the symbiote echoed.

You just kept holding Eddie’s hand, fighting tears as you made yourself breathe deeply, clinging tighter when he tried to retract.

They were concerned. They wanted to help. And that was enough to help ground you to the point where you could pull out your phone.

I’ve met that man before. His name is Mitch. We used to be friends. It didn’t end well.

“ I’M GOING TO EAT HIS HEAD! ” Venom howled. His human counterpart took the revelation a little better: he took a second to process it--suppressing the flurry of questions that flooded his mind--and then he stood to join you on the bench.

“Do you need to talk about it now, or do you just want to put it aside for now?”

Put it aside. Please.

“Not a problem. Shall we eat?”

You were a little surprised he agreed so quickly--especially with how vocal Venom was being--but it was a relief nonetheless. You opened your take-out bag and retrieved your food, setting about enjoying it despite the residual shakiness in your hands.

You were about half done when a realization struck you, making you bite your tongue by accident. You jolted your phone out.

Did you respond to me signing back there?

Eddie read it and then laughed a little.

“Uh, so about the surprise Vee had for you...I’ll let him show you.”

“ FINALLY! ”

You watched curiously as Eddie relaxed and then his hands began to move--and you could see in his mind that he wasn’t in charge of the motions. This was all Venom.

The motions were careful and slow, but you sat straight up as Eddie’s hands started forming familiar words.

“Hi. My name is--” there was some hesitation as they briefly conferred with what name to use but they quickly resumed-- “V-E-N-O-M. It is good to talk to you.”

You gasped and gave them a brief applause. You then returned to typing.

How did you learn that so quickly?

“Vee has lots of free time when I’m sleeping,” Eddie shrugged, smiling as he regained the use of his arms. “He’s been looking at Sign dictionaries trying to string that whole phrase together.”

“ I’M BETTER AT FINGERSPELLING ,” the alien admitted, still basking in pride. “AND I KNOW ALL OF THE BASICS: HUNGRY, EAT, DRINK, YES, NO, GO, STOP, PLEASE, THANK YOU AND CHOCOLATE.”

You laughed soundlessly as Eddie rolled his eyes.

But why? You asked. Why go to the trouble?

“ BECAUSE WE WANT TO MAKE IT EASIER TO TALK TO YOU MORE! ” There is no hesitation in Venom’s response. “ IF YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHAT IS WRONG QUICKLY! ”

“Not that we’re expecting trouble,” Eddie adds. “I just figured it would be helpful in general. But you’re gonna have to forgive me if he--” he tapped his temple--“has to do some translating in the beginning since he’ll pick it up way faster than me.”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes again. They were willing to learn Sign for you? No other friend had been willing to do that for you since High School.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” They’d noticed your watery eyes. They were worried. They knew you had been stressed out during the whole outing and wanted to make you comfortable and safe.

Nothing,” you fingerspelled, taking care to make each letter distinct so they could more easily follow. “Thanks.”

“ EDDIE, I WANT THE CAKE NOW ,” Venom complained, changing gears faster than you or Eddie expected. “ WE HAD YOUR HEALTHY SANDWICH, NOW GIVE ME THE GOOD STUFF. ”

“ You absolute addict ,” Eddie thought back, taking a determined bite of mostly lettuce just to make the symbiote pout. You gave another silent laugh as you too returned to eating, happy to just listen to their chatter for a while longer.

#venom #venom movie #Venom Symbiote #venom x reader #selectively mute character #deaf character #ASL #sign language #hybridwrites

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tvdstelenaforever · 4 years ago

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Law & Lust

TVD Imagine: Enzo St. John

Premise: Y/N is new to town and finds out her new employer is a vampire, not long later things take a surprising turn.

Theme: Mature / Smut (18+)

Other: Y/N goes by she/her and is human

Word Count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this smutty imagine, the idea randomly came to me so here goes nothing :-)

—————

It was a dark night as Y/N stood in the poorly lit alleyway, trying to find her way back home. She was new to the area and wasn’t fully acquainted with her neighbourhood. It wasn’t just a run of the mill move but an overseas one. Y/N flew from the south of England to move to the southern United States. A golden job opportunity arose that she couldn’t decline, plus she had dreamed of visiting since childhood.

Mystic Falls seemed like a dainty cute town and Y/N hoped to meet some like minded people that also liked hiking, going on spontaneous trips and eating out. Y/N wouldn’t consider herself an extrovert but she certainly enjoyed socializing in the right doses. The people here seemed friendly enough so it encouraged Y/N to mingle a little.

She was just walking back from a coffee date, well not exactly a date as such, with a sweet guy called Matt. She didn’t get his last name but didn’t care enough as she doubted she would see him again. As Y/N continued on she could hear some shuffling noises from behind. Ignoring it, believing it was some sort of animal, Y/N hurried along.

After a couple of minutes the sound renewed. Paranoid now, Y/N turned to face the source of the noise. Before she could process what was going on, she felt herself being pushed against a fence. A scream escaped her mouth as the culprit tried diving in for her exposed neck. Y/N could feel her heart beating erratically as she tried to fend for herself, to no avail. This stranger was strong.

All of a sudden Y/N could feel her aggressors grip lighten and eventually leave and came face to face with a young man instead, who had dark hair and light eyes. “Are you okay, miss?” The handsome stranger smiled. Slightly disoriented, Y/N nodded. “I can walk you to your intended destination” he offered. Usually Y/N would be wary of any stranger and decline, but this man seemed different. Honest and safe. “Okay, sure” With that the pair headed off to Y/N’s new home.

As they approached the front door the young man hesitated. Y/N noticed and smiled softly. “Thank you for walking me back home” He returned the gesture and continued with her to the door. “Goodnight darlin’, stay safe” Before letting him go, Y/N wanted to know his name. “I’m Y/N, what’s your name?” With a grin, he said “Enzo, Enzo St John”. As he said his last name he emphasized it with a British twang.

“Oh, you’re from England too?” Y/N asked as her face lit up. He stayed quiet for a moment but shook his head, smiling sadly. Well, that was odd Y/N thought but discarded that weird feeling she felt. “Well thanks again Enzo”. Taking a step indoors and closing the door, Y/N took a peek through the side window and there was no sight of the handsome stranger who walked her home.

Sighing, she got ready for bed and tucked herself in snugly. Eventually after pondering the earlier incident, she fell asleep.

***

The following morning Y/N went to work at her new law firm. She was excited to start this new venture. Her boss had informed her that she had a meeting first thing that a.m. With a latte in hand, she walked through the shiny doors and found her way to her boss’s door. Upon entering, she nearly dropped the cup on the floor. Y/N’s eyes widened at her new employer. The one and only Enzo. Enzo St John. Wow, she thought, perplexed.

His eyebrows raised quickly at his new employee, surprised to see it was the damsel in distress from the night before. “Y/N, uh, welcome” The sudden pause indicated his surprise and Y/N blushed involuntarily. Enzo noticed but didn’t react. He suddenly felt awkward and looked away, motioning for her to sit down. “Emily will show you around and get you acquainted with the office. If you have any questions just ask her. She’s been my assistant for over 5 years now and is incredibly efficient and sweet, so you’ll have no trouble settling in comfortably” he started. “I was very impressed by your interview notes that my colleague sent me whilst I was away on a business trip, and I look forward to working with you”. Y/N smiled and thanked Enzo for his warm welcome. As the meeting ended and Y/N got up to grab the door handle, Enzo touched her hand to stop her from leaving.

Y/N blushed again, feeling flushed. What was he doing? She thought. She bit her lip as he kept still, awaiting his next move. Instead of perusing her, he pulled away. Y/N took an intake of breath before pulling the handle, finally closing the door behind her.

Y/N was still thinking about Enzo whilst Emily gave her a tour of the office. Emily seemed nice and as if she loved her job. I guess it didn’t hurt having Enzo as her boss though. He was eye candy as well as seemingly being a gentleman. Y/N would be surprised if she found out he was single.

Once Emily’s tour was over, Y/N sat at her desk reorganizing the layout and filling the desk drawers with all her essential items. The day flew by as Y/N sifted through all the paperwork and made all the appropriate phone calls. As it was time to clock out, Y/N arrived at the elevator doors. When they opened, Enzo was face to face with her. They caught eyes and he immediately looked away. He was nervous much to Y/N’s obliviousness. All she saw was disinterest and professionalism as her eyes followed him walking away.

Y/N was lost in her thoughts as she walked home that night. It felt colder than it was so she hurried along. Y/N wanted nothing more right now than to drink a warm cup of cocoa and watch some Law and Order. Law enforcement shows were her favourite. That was the main reason for her going down the law career route. She was a while away from working with law enforcement though but this was a great step towards that. Luckily Y/N also had duel nationality with the US so she could work with the government if she ever wanted to.

Y/N was slowly starting to drift asleep as the TV hummed in the background. She finally fell unconscious as her dreams filled her mind.

***

The weekend rolled over fairly quickly and Y/N decided to go for a walk around town to get familiar with the place. Loads of people were gathered in the parks and coffee shops, the weather permitting such occasions. Y/N smiled as she breathed in the fresh morning air.

Y/N laid eyes upon the Mystic Grill and ogled at it. Boy was she hungry right now. She decided to have some brunch and relax. Pushing the doors open, Y/N accidentally bumped into Matt. “Oh, hi Y/N!” He grinned. “Hi Matt” she replied casually. “It was nice hanging out the other day. I have some friends that you may like to meet since you’re new here. I’m sure you’ll love them” Y/N smiled, he was such a kind person. It looked like he was just being friendly which was good. Enzo was constantly in her thoughts that Matt was invisible to her in that way.

Effectively Enzo was just a stranger. Now her new boss. No way were they ever going to be an item. He was classy, highly educated, owned his own law firm, and extremely attractive. Y/N felt like she was totally out of his league. Not that she was below par but nothing special.

As Y/N was assigned a table, she looked over the menu, eyes glossing over the irrelevant details. Eventually she found the perfect dish, a mushroom risotto and white wine. Once her order was placed, Y/N twiddled her thumbs.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Emily’s number popped up on the screen as the phone kept vibrating in her hand. Oh, a weekend emergency at the office? Y/N wondered. “Hi Emily!” Y/N greeted happily. “Hello Y/N, how are you? There are just a couple of things Enzo needs to go over with you quickly. Do you mind coming in as soon as possible?” Ah, Enzo needed her to come help him with something? How peculiar, especially for a weekend. “Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I’ve finished my food at the Mystic Grill. I’m literally nearby, I can be there for half an hours time”. Emily thanked her before hanging up.

The food made it’s way to Y/N quickly and she ate it promptly. She paid the bill when she was finished with her meal and headed to the office. The place was deadly silent which felt odd, Y/N was used to a busy office. Once the elevator arrived at the 3rd floor, Y/N found Enzo’s office and knocked.

He opened the door and pulled her inside. Y/N was taken by surprise at the sudden movement. As he closed the door he eyed Y/N, feeling anxious. “What did you need help for?” Y/N asked, confused. “I can’t keep this a secret anymore” Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the spot. He waltzed over to her and stared deeply into her eyes. Her eyes bore into his, completely mesmerized. It was as if she couldn’t look away.

“Y/N, don’t freak out. You’re safe and I wouldn’t ever hurt you. I promise you. I have to tell you what I am. I can’t keep this a secret from you, especially since I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since that first night we met” Enzo declared. “I, I’m a vampire” He said after a short pause. He pulled away whilst still keeping his eyes locked on hers as he suddenly bared his fangs. Y/N’s eyes widened but couldn’t move from her spot.

“When I stop compelling you, don’t run away” he said as he took her hand and squeezed lightly. Enzo finished compelling Y/N and awaited her move.

“But, how? What? I must be hallucinating!” Y/N exclaimed, heart racing at the speed of light. She did as he commanded and stayed put but wanted nothing more than to flee. She had never expected even in her wildest dreams to come into contact with a member of the supernatural. Something completely fictional. Yet not fictional at all.

“Why can’t I leave? Please, let me go” Y/N said quietly, eyes watering. Enzo could feel the fear radiating from her and wanted nothing more than to bring her in for a warm embrace. He was aching for her. “Like I said, I would never hurt you. I really like you Y/N. You’re smart, kind, intelligent, interesting, and beautiful” He said beautiful slowly, taking a deep breath.

This was everything Y/N wanted to hear before, but now that he revealed himself to be a vampire, Y/N felt scared. She wanted to believe him, but she needed space. “Please, just give me some space and time to process this”. Enzo sighed in defeat and nodded. “Okay, but please come back to me when you’re ready” He pleaded, placing a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

As soon as she could move, Y/N bolted for the door. She ran outside, ran as far as her legs could carry her and cried herself to sleep once she arrived home, curling up on the sofa.

***

Work was filled with awkward silences between Enzo and Y/N, Y/N avoiding his gaze every time she came into contact with him. One night after work, Y/N went to the Mystic Grill for a drink. Once she got to the bar she ordered a bourbon whiskey neat. After 5 minutes a friendly face appeared. Matt smiled at Y/N and took the free seat next to her.

“Hey, are you okay? You seem a little off” Matt asked worriedly. “It’s that obvious?” She laughed sadly. He squeezed her forearm and offered her a sympathetic smile. “What’s troubling you?” He asked. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I tried”. Matt felt like he understood what she was insinuating but let her continue. “Try me”. Y/N took an inhale of breath, afraid of sounding crazy.

“I found out my boss is... a vampire” Y/N cringed at how insane that sounded. “Ugh I know, you don’t believe me do you. I understand. I wouldn’t have if you told me the same thing. I feel like I’m either going crazy or I’m living in a much scarier world than I ever imagined”. Matt kept silent for a moment, and Y/N bit her lip in anticipation.

“Let’s talk somewhere a little more private” and with that he took her hand and they walked to a nearby park and sat at a lone bench. “The supernatural are real. I’ve lived among them for years, and at first I had no idea. I actually, um, really dislike them. Sadly some of my friends are supernatural but that’s just the reality of life here in Mystic Falls. People you care about most are undead or some sort of creature. Take werewolves for example”. Y/N’s ears pricked up at werewolves and gulped.

“I know this is overwhelming but you’ll get used to it. Anyway, so who’s your boss?” He asked curiously. “His name is Enzo St John”. Matt raised his eyebrows, stunned. “I know him. He used to date my friend Bonnie. He’s good friends with Damon Salvatore. He’s one person that gets on my last nerve, he knows it and uses it to his advantage. Enzo is alright, but I haven’t had much contact with the guy. If he was good enough for Bonnie then he must be okay”. Y/N took all this information in surprisingly well, Matt thought.

“I just can’t believe it, it’s just so surreal! I don’t know what to think. Also what do you mean by Enzo being okay if Bonnie dated him?” She asked curiously. “Bonnie had an aversion to vampires like me but since she’s a witch, she eventually fell for another supernatural”. Wow, Y/N thought. “There are witches too?” She said in awe.

Matt laughed, she was definitely taking this way better than he did. “Yeah... and hybrids, sirens, doppelgängers, heretics among others”. “Oh my, this is overwhelming. I think I just want to watch some TV and fall asleep” Y/N confessed. Matt nodded in agreement. “If you need anything, just call me. Take care” he said as they parted ways.

It was a few days later and Y/N was in her kitchen preparing some leftovers for dinner. There was an unexpected knock at the door. Y/N wasn’t waiting for anybody but as she opened the door she froze. It was Enzo. Y/N was starting to accept that she was walking among the undead and beyond. It was still a shock but the initial feeling wore off. She finally felt okay to be in his presence.

Y/N held open the door for Enzo to walk in but he quickly hesitated. “You can come in Enzo, I won’t bite” She said, unaware of the pun. Enzo was surprised at her casualness. He raised his eyebrows at her and she realised what she said. She laughed, for the first time in weeks.

She went back to her food whilst Enzo sat at the island. Y/N had a nice house for someone who just moved to the area. The place was already decorated and felt cozy. She definitely tried to bring her culture with her and it showed in the decor.

“Why’re you here Enzo?” Y/N wondered. “I wanted to check on you to see if you were okay”. Y/N could tell that he felt on edge. “I had a chat with Matt Donovan a few days ago and he told me everything about the supernatural, and about you and Bonnie”, Y/N said the last part a bit quieter.

Enzo’s head snapped up to look at Y/N. He wondered what Matt had told her about him and Bonnie. They were a thing of the past, a flame blown out. “We used to date, yes. But we’ve moved on. It was years ago. I don’t want to talk about it” Y/N smiled knowingly, she could relate about not wanting to talk about an ex.

“Of course, I understand” Y/N offered, feeling sympathy for the vampire. Enzo used his vampire speed to come up behind Y/N and slid his arm around her waist. He nuzzled into her neck and kissed her ever so softly. “I want you” Enzo closed his eyes as he moaned into her neck. His body was pressed closely to hers, the warmth radiating from her back.

Y/N pushed her plate to the side and gripped the counter for balance. Enzo was satisfied that she was submitting to him. He slowly shoved his right hand under her skirt and rubbed circles on her clit. She moaned out, eyes closed tightly shut. “I’ve dreamed about doing this to you since we met the second time at my office” he whispered seductively. Y/N quivered under his touch and her legs felt wobbly. Enzo held on tighter and squeezed her hips.

He wanted to take her right then and there but wanted to prolong the sexual tensions. He wanted to hear Y/N moan out his name so he pushed the fabric of her panties aside and inserted a couple of fingers inside her. Y/N licked her lips as Enzo kept sliding his fingers in and out. Eventually his name escaped her lips and he smiled satisfyingly. “Does that feel good baby?” He cooed. Y/N nodded, unable to use her words. The intensity increased and Y/N gripped the counter tighter, knuckles turning white. Enzo let go and gripped her hands as he pushed his body into hers again. This time both of them let out a moan, Enzo close to Y/N’s ear. She shivered from the almost touch of his mouth to her face.

Immediately, Enzo carried Y/N bridal style upstairs to the bathroom. Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. Instead of answering her he smirked and kicked the door shut as he sat her down at the edge of the bath.

“Ever had sex in the bath?” He winked. Y/N hadn’t, and the idea turned her on. They undressed each other and Enzo caressed her cheek softly, in adoration. He gazed into her eyes for a second, looking for any hesitation. Luckily Y/N stared at his lips, biting her own seductively.

“Has anyone ever told you how incredibly sexy you are?” Enzo said with his voice hoarse. Y/N could see his erection emerging so she grabbed hold of his waist and shoved herself against his body so that their naked bodies were molded together. The unexpected motion made Enzo groan deeply. His sound made Y/N feel wet down below. She wanted him inside her asap.

Y/N climbed into the bath and laid down, arching her back and touching herself, hoping for Enzo to ravishingly devour her. He went in after her and gripped her hips to lift her onto him. As she sunk down her weight they both exhaled deeply, a soft moan escaping Y/N’s lips and a deep groan escaping Enzo’s.

Enzo moved very slowly at first, then quickened his pace. He wasn’t going quick enough for Y/N’s liking and she sighed. “I need you so bad, please go faster” Y/N moaned, eagerly awaiting more friction. “I’m the one who’s in charge here, darlin’” Enzo used that term again for the second time, but on this occasion it oozed sexiness. He kept his movement slow just to punish Y/N. She jerked her hips up, grinding hard. “Please baby...” Y/N stuttered, who was beyond desperate.

Since she was so needy, Enzo pushed into her roughly and she screamed out. She gripped his arms as he kept his rhythm fast. Y/N then wrapped her legs around his hips to get him to go deeper. Enzo wrapped his hand around Y/N’s neck with light pressure as he pounded into her. “Does that feel okay?” Enzo asked breathlessly. “Uh huh” Y/N whispered. Y/N could feel herself nearing her climax. “Babe, I’m so close” Y/N whined. “Hold it for me” Enzo demanded, he wanted to cum with her.

“Can I cum yet?” Y/N pleaded, she was ready to burst. Enzo’s lips found hers to drown out her moans as he quickened his pace. He was nearing his climax and was about to come undone. He grunted as they were both ready to release. “Oh, fuck...” They moaned together.

Once they were finished, they ran the shower. Enzo lathered soap in his hands and rubbed it on Y/N’s back from behind her and moved his hands over her stomach and inner thighs. She rested her head against his collarbone as he massaged her body. Once she was all rinsed off she returned the favor. After the water washed over him, Enzo placed both hands against the wall while trapping Y/N between his arms. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “How do you feel?” He asked genuinely, hoping she felt finally safe with him. “Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be” She smiled.

Enzo felt reassured and walked Y/N to her bed where they laid together in a warm embrace. Y/N fell asleep quickly while Enzo just kept her close.

The following morning Enzo was still by her side and she looked up at him with a sweet smile. “Morning my love” He beamed. It was the first time he used the word love and Y/N’s heart fluttered. “Morning handsome” Y/N said into his chest.

Going to work after they became intimate went surprisingly well and with no hiccups. Nobody knew of their affair and even if they had been obvious around each other, Enzo would compel suspecting individuals to become oblivious.

***

Weeks had passed whilst Enzo and Y/N got to know each other more in their spare time. One night they sat on Y/N’s couch and drank some wine. “Damn, you’re so beautiful” Enzo said out of the blue. Y/N smiled, her eyes lighting up. “You’re quite dashing yourself” Y/N laughed. Enzo bit his lip as he stared at Y/N’s.

Instead of replying, he grabbed her face and kissed her aggressively. Taken aback, Y/N pulled away to catch her breath. Their faces found each other’s again and Y/N sat on Enzo’s lap. A low growl escaped his lips as Y/N slid up his crotch, the friction of their clothes rubbing against their privates making them both aroused.

“I’m desperate, please fuck me” Y/N moaned. This surprised Enzo but excited him at the same time. They both undressed and stared at each other whilst doing so, eager to feel the burning desire building deep inside them to become ignited. “Are you going to be good for me?” Enzo asked dominantly. “What if I want to be bad?” Y/N cooed seductively. Enzo laughed, not expecting that response. “I’ll only fuck you if you’re a good girl” He replied more confidently. “I want it to hurt” Y/N blurted out, surprised at her eagerness. It wasn’t like her to be so adventurous in bed but Enzo ignited a deep desire to be wild. Enzo was equally stunned at her sudden request. He was going to start softly and work his way to being rougher. He just didn’t want to literally hurt her.

First Enzo shoved his fingers inside her and moved around, starting his handiwork. Y/N started moaning loudly. “You’re gonna have to stay quiet if you want me to let you cum sweetheart” Y/N bit her lip instead of answering. He really wanted to shove her against the wall and fuck her senseless.

He couldn’t wait any longer so he took her in for a kiss as he guided her to the nearest wall. He pinned her arms above her head and pressed his body to hers. She could feel his dick pressing against her inner thigh and leaned forwards so she could rub against it. “I told you I was in charge babe” Enzo said as he pushed her off him an inch. Y/N groaned in response, all she wanted was for him to be inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on every sensation he was giving her. He touched her core and hummed. “Gosh you’re so wet right now”

Enzo demanded that she turn around. She did as he asked and he parted her cheeks as he slid his cock inside her. She yelped out from the force of it but relaxed into him as he slid in and out or her wet center steadily. He pulled out so he could bring her to the kitchen counter. The cold marble sent shivers down Y/N’s spine as her back touched it. He resumed his previous position and continued pounding himself into Y/N’s core. He whispered in her ear “You’re all mine, moan for me baby”. Y/N happily let out her pent up frustrations, crying out in ecstasy.

“I’m about to cum baby, please let me” Y/N was in total euphoria. Enzo wanted to keep up his dominant persona but was just really into letting Y/N get what she wanted because he was so in love with her. “Let go for me” Y/N moaned several times as she came around him and clenched. Enzo groaned as he was reaching his own orgasm, the squeezing of her muscles sending him over the edge. They both panted from the intense fucking and fell limp in each other’s arms. Y/N started standing up but Enzo wasn’t having it.

“I’m not done with you yet” He said as he brought her close to him again. She didn’t know what he had in mind but awaited his next move. “Get down, now” Enzo ordered. Y/N’s doe eyes widened for a spit second as she obeyed. He used both hands to force her head to his member. “That feels so damn good Y/N” Enzo grunted as she took his whole length in her mouth. She gagged so he pulled out slightly. She then used her hands to pump him as he fucked her mouth. His own mouth hung open as he tilted his head back against the wall. He shook under her touch as she increased the speed. “I’m about to cum Y/N” Enzo gasped. Y/N edged him further as she wanted to hear his raspy voice curse out in pleasure. He grunted out repeatedly as he came in her mouth. His hot seed was falling down her throat as she swallowed. “You were so good babe, I’m still buzzing from that whole experience” He grinned.

Y/N took Enzo in for a passionate kiss and her tongue found his hungrily. When she pulled away, he grabbed her hand and placed his soft lips to them. “I love you”

She looked away for a moment which panicked Enzo. However when she turned back her eyes were watering. “Babe, are you okay?” Enzo asked worriedly. “Yes, it’s just that I love you too” She sniffed. Enzo’s heart felt full and he gave her an affectionate hug.

Y/N finally felt at home in Mystic Falls, but most importantly she found home with Enzo, her one true love. She smiled to herself as they fell asleep together, her dreams finally peaceful.

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Only For A Moment Ch. 42

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Physical violence, smut, feelings, yeeeah.

A/N: First off let’s just acknowledge that I would be nothing without @wonderlandmind4‘s support. Literally. Nothing. Like, she gets me y’all and just straight up deserves partial credit for literally the rest of this series for how she’s hyped, supported, brainstormed, and beta’d for me. Actual earth angel. Go love on her immediately.

Ok. Now. Thank y’all for tolerating that teaser-ass chapter last time. I’m making it up now with this big(ish) boi. There’s a little bit of everything here and a lot of gearing them up for what’s to come.

Also, y’all know me by now (hopefully), I live for feedback. Don’t care if you send it in an ask or add notes here or what. I just love hearing from y’all!

Tags are open!

A metal left arm wraps around your throat applying enough pressure to be a problem.

“Sloppy form today, baby doll,” Bucky purrs into your ear making you shiver despite the heavy spring heat.

“Get off me,” you croak.

He releases you with a laugh. Lifting the hem of his white tank he wipes the sweat from his forehead revealing a taste of that defined and ridiculously enticing body.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to keep your jaw from hanging open as you hunch over, hands resting on your knees. You were attempting to catch your breath, how dare he make it that much harder.

“Enjoying the view?” He asks, a dark brow raised above a good-natured smirk.

Reaching out with invisible hands you push him to the ground, pressing his shoulders down so he can’t immediately rise. You stride over to him, legs flanking his torso.

“If I am?” You ask, staring down at him.

Mischief sparks in his blue-grey eyes. “Couldn’t blame you I guess.” You adored him like this—confident, maybe even bordering on cocky, and above all, happy.

He reaches up, taking hold of your knees he knocks you off balance sending you toward the ground too. Your power reacts faster than your mind, cushioning the fall so you land soundlessly sitting lightly on his chest.

“Hmm…” His chest vibrates under you as his fingers hook into the waist of your leggings. “What if I just-” Without effort the stretch fabric gives way to his whim, tearing along the front seam and down the crotch.

“These are a problem too though,” he presses his fingers against your quickly dampening underwear. Holding your gaze he shrugs a little and with a tug, they’re in shreds too.

Grabbing your hips he tugs you forward forcing you up on your knees before threading his arms under you. Bucky takes firm hold of your ass and lifts his head, placing a kiss against your pelvic bone. Desire floods your veins causing you to shiver.

The look of hunger in his eyes sucks the breath from your lungs before his tongue even finds your clit. When he languidly tastes you all you manage is a low rasp, air sucking back into your chest.

His lips and tongue tease you, strong fingers move from your ass to your thighs, gripping them tight. You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him against you as your head falls back, your eyes closing against the blue of the sky. A rumble of satisfaction from him is felt beneath you rather than heard. In response your hips lift up, desperate and wanting.

“Bucky,” you croon looking down at him. Playfully he nips at you eliciting a deep moan. He keeps up until your breath is ragged, your lashes flutter, and you take in a sharp breath.

You’re on the razor edge of an orgasm when he stops cold. A second later you’re on your back, the grass tickling your neck.

Bucky hovers over you before kissing you hard. He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting, his lips tracing a path to your ear.

“You want this, baby?” His voice all smoke and gravel as he presses his covered cock against you.

“Yes,” you barely manage.

“Gonna have to get the drop on me first.” He moves so fast you’re almost in shock—that only lasts a moment though.

“What the fuck?!” You scream after his retreating form. All you get in response is a bellowing laugh. “You mother-” cutting yourself off you bolt after him at full tilt, your whole body running on unreleased tension, desire, and just a bit of pure annoyance.

Of course, your damaged leggings start to fall from your hips forcing you to wind a bit of your power around them to keep them from tripping you up as you pursue him. All you’re focused on is catching him, he’s so fast though…

It happens without you thinking about it—your power snakes down from where you’re attempting to keep your clothing together, wrapping around your burning legs all the way to your feet. Suddenly each stride sends less of a shock through you, just your toes landing on the earth, and then you jump.

Your power pushes against the air with force, propelling your body further than your sheer strength could ever manage. Sailing above him you spin around to look back at his shocked face. Despite your frustration with him you can’t help but laugh.

Smiling, he pivots, clearly challenging you.

All you’re really focused on is him and your body reacts accordingly, cutting him off with a speed that surprises even you. Every turn he makes, you counter, hovering consistently about eight feet from the ground.

For a moment you take him in as he stops moving, assessing his new, and unexpected position. He looks so frustratingly sexy with strands of his hair falling from his ponytail, sweat making him glisten, and his eyes glittering with both awe and desire. You want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything and anyone.

Once again your power acts seemingly of its own accord to give you what you want, coiling around him. He tries to fall out of it by moving past your range as he’s done in the past only to find himself fully cocooned in a gentle yet firm embrace.

Suddenly, you drop about a foot as a flash of pain shoots through your head. May be stretching things a bit thin, you think. Not wanting to plummet the rest of the way you lower yourself to the ground in front of him. With one last pulse of power, you pull him to you, lifting on your toes to kiss his slightly agape mouth.

“Got you,” you purr, pulling the hair tie from his already loosened ponytail. Feeling the tingles of another shock of pain you release him before it hits.

Bucky smiles down at you, “Guess you want your prize?”

“Damn right,” you grab him through his shorts, squeezing firmly. His lids flutter a bit and he presses back into your grip.

A small noise slips from you as he lifts you into his arms before kneeling. Tenderly he lays you in the soft grass, covering your neck and chest with kisses. Your legs wrap around his hips and he pulls himself free of the shorts and boxers.

You make love under the blue spring sky. Every movement unhurried, every kiss slow and sweet. When you both cry out in pleasure as you come there’s no one to hear for miles. In this moment you feel like the only two humans on the planet. It feels like heaven.

Even the ride back into the city and the press of people near the pizza place couldn’t ruin the high you were both riding.

Back at your apartment Bucky finally says it.

“Y/N… you fucking flew today.” You shove a bite of pizza in your mouth and shrug. “That it?” His expression incredulous.

“I mean,” you swallow, “it wasn’t quite that… I just, well…” You look past him, trying to think about what it felt like. “It was like when I float. I use the air as leverage—there’s always something to push against, dust, moisture. For some reason I was able to do it faster today is all. I didn’t focus on doing it just focused on you.”

He raises a dark brow, “Guess we know what motivates you.” Leaning back in his chair he glances down at his lap.

“Don’t be smug,” you toss a balled-up napkin at him earning you that ringing laugh.

When you walk into the shop on Wednesday you’re a little bruised and very sore. You don’t mind it though. After every long weekend spent training hard at the farmhouse you feel stronger, more in control.

The morning is filled with your standard tasks around the shop and discussing the reason you find Shakespeare’s histories exhausting with Mr. Goldstein. A few customers wander in, Victor lounges in the open door enjoying the warm air. It’s the kind of day that sometimes lets you forget your past and just be present in this life.

Mr. Goldstein sits behind the counter in the early afternoon, contentedly sipping coffee and reading while you perch in the store window, your own book set aside to keep your hands free for the cat purring in your lap. Music hums from the radio on the counter. A contented sigh winds its way through your lips as your eyes slide closed.

Mid-song the DJ cuts in, “We interrupt the broadcast for an urgent report. An unknown attacker has taken Sokovia. It… We’re receiving reports that the city is…” The man’s voice shakes, “The city is—I can’t believe I’m saying this—Sokovia seems to be under attack by some kind of… robots? The American force known as The Avengers is said to be at the scene.”

Much to Victor’s disapproval, you shoot up at the last bit. The Avengers meant Steve, could mean- Before you’re able to finish your thought your phone vibrates in your pocket. Bucky’s text is short, but you feel the weight hidden in the words: Home. Now.

Ice fills your veins, rendering you immobile for a few seconds.

“Zeeskeit?” The term of endearment drips with concern.

“I… I gotta go. Will you be ok to close up?”

“Of course,” he rises slowly. “Do you have people in Sokovia?”

“Sort of,” you look back at your phone, hands beginning to shake. Sokovia was close, too close. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Ok.” He sets your backpack on the counter, a hand extended. You grab the bag and take his hand, “Take care of each other.”

All you manage is a nod and a tight smile before running out the door.

When you burst into the apartment you’re hit with the smell of smoke. Bucky sits at the kitchen table a cigarette that’s more ash than anything else in his right hand. He doesn’t even look up at you, his eyes glued to the laptop screen in front of him.

“Bucky?” You call softly.

With noticeable effort, he drags his gaze to you. In all this time you’ve never seen him like this. His eyes red-rimmed, scared, hurting. A muscle ticks in his jaw as it does when he’s angry. His brows knit like they do when he’s concerned, and his shoulders slump in a defeated posture, while his left hand is in a tight fist resting next to the computer.

Dropping your bag you close the distance between you quickly. He doesn’t move just turns his eyes back to the screen as you pluck the cigarette from between his fingers, stamping it out next to four others on a plate.

You don’t try to get him to speak or explain as you move behind him. Wrapping what you hope are reassuring arms around his neck, you place a kiss on his cheek before resting your chin on his shoulder.

It’s impossible to not be horrified by what you’re seeing. Four different feeds play on the screen. All of them show something that’s difficult to believe.

Bit by bit an entire city rises from the earth. Another shifts every minute or so, revealing various views of a city being flooded with terminator rejects. The other two seem to be live feeds from people in the city, running, shaky, the sounds of screams providing a steady soundtrack to the horror show before you.

Every now and then there’s a flash of that signature shield, a moment of movement laced in dirty red white and blue—easy enough to miss if you’re not looking but you notice them, their appearance signaled in the way Bucky’s body tenses every single time.

Soon it becomes clear someone has managed to rally forces to evacuate the civilians judging by the enormous helicarrier seen from a ground shot of the now impossibly high city. You feel relief until Bucky speaks.

“They won’t all make it. Too many targets…” You know that there’s only one he’s truly concerned about. There’s nothing to say, all you can do is hold him tighter.

After a bit only feeds from the ground play on the screen. In horrified silence, you stare as the city quite literally explodes in the air and the feeds go dark.

For a moment neither of you move or even breathe. All you can think is that there’s no way to know, not yet.

Bucky explodes from his chair, sending both you and the table skidding back in opposite directions. His body shakes, fists balled up at his sides. Desperately you want to pull him close but you know it wouldn’t be welcome affection. Instead, you stand back, unsure of what to do.

You think he’s going to scream, slam a fist into the wall, something, anything other than what happens. One second he’s a pillar of potential rage and the next he hits his knees with a thud.

Not caring about what may or may not be welcome any longer you rush to him. Lowering yourself to the floor in front of him you pull his hands into yours, forcing them to open from the fists he still holds.

“He may be fine. We don’t know.” He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his gaze fixed on the grain of the wood floor.

With all those cell phones someone had to have eyes on the carrier. You pop up and immediately begin putting your own skills to use. They’d be trying to keep as tight a lock as possible on things but if you know what you’re doing… Your fingers fly across the keys, your breath held, hoping against all there is that you find what he needs.

It takes a minute longer than you’d like but, finally, you’re able to dig up something. The image isn’t the best, it’s of a family clearly sending out a photo to let loved ones know they’re ok, but in the background, you can see him. Alive.

“Buck!” His name bursts from your lips. “Look,” taking the computer you bring it down to him. Meeting you halfway up he takes it from you, staring at the screen. “He’s ok. He made it.”

“Goddamn punk,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. Hands shaking, he passes the laptop back to you before running his right hand over his face.

Despite his clear relief that Steve was one of the survivors of the battle, the tension doesn’t leave Bucky over the next several days.

You stop by the shop each day to check in but you don’t linger, not wanting to be away from home too long with Bucky in this state. Mr. Goldstein, as always, doesn’t pry, accepting your vague reassurances that you’re both ok and offering kind words every time.

Conversation is sparse; which isn’t uncommon with you both, silence is easier when you’re wrestling with something, and you’ve each taken to given the other space when they need it. However, this is different. He keeps following the happenings in Sokovia, with an intensity that worries you, never saying a word as to why.

The Avengers hadn’t been spotted in the region since the battle, all that was left now was clean up. Because of this, you couldn’t wrap your mind around why his focus was so drawn to the situation.

Saturday morning you awake without his warmth next to you. It was something you expected, though knowing didn’t make his absence ache any less. He hadn’t withdrawn like this in so long.

Before you call out his name the coffee pot lets out an exasperated gurgle. With a yawn you pad into the kitchen where a note beneath your coffee mug informs you that he’d stepped out, he’d be back later. You try and fail, to drown your worry in caffeine spending the better part of the next hour restlessly shuffling around the apartment, unable to focus on anything.

When the door finally opens it takes all your resolve to not rush him.

He kicks the door closed behind him, arms laden with groceries. Your brows knit in confusion, this was a Sunday thing.

It had become your routine—Sunday morning load up on supplies and head to the farmhouse, then the rest of that day and Monday and Tuesday you spent training. The other days of the week you’d work at the shop and he’d do odd jobs as they came up. There was comfort for you both in this steady, yet unofficial, schedule, for him to break it made your heart kick up an uncomfortable rhythm.

“We’re going to the farmhouse,” he says.

It isn’t that you’re against the idea but you withdraw from the note of command in his tone. “Oh? We are?” You ask, hands settling on your hips as you watch him lay out groceries on the table.

“Yeah. I stopped by the shop and let Mr. G know.” You say nothing, challenging him silently to turn and look at you, he just continues, “May be a few extra days.”

“Huh. Guess I must have blacked out when we made this decision.” Your emphasis on we, doesn’t go unnoticed judging by the way his shoulders visibly tighten. It does, however, go unacknowledged.

He pulls the last few things from the grocery bag before resting his palms flat on the table, head hanging, shoulders drooping. Despite your urge to do so, you don’t place a comforting hand on his back, don’t softly call for him. You know him well enough now to know he’s about to drop the act, he’ll apologize and you’ll talk it all out. He just needs space.

For a minute, you watch as he takes in deep breaths, getting a grip of himself. You’re comfortable waiting, knowing this is about to be over, finally.

“Get packed,” he says without throwing you even a side glance before grabbing the packs by the door.

You don’t move. All you can do is stand a little slack-jawed at his behavior. When cold grey eyes finally look at you a shiver climbs down your back.

He picks up your duffel as he walks back to the kitchen, pressing it to your chest. “I said pack,” his eyes bore into you until you grasp the bag in your hands.

“We leave in forty,” he tosses over his shoulder as he begins to load up the packs with groceries.

Too shocked by his demeanor to protest you numbly head into the bathroom and shower quickly. He’d never spoken to you like this, not even at the beginning when he’d been so scared…

How could this be the same man who, just a few days ago, had been brimming with playful confidence and charm? The answer you didn’t want to acknowledge is that, just maybe, he wasn’t.

You try but you can’t shake that thought on the journey to the farmhouse. It makes you antsy, causing the ride to be almost unbearable. As soon as he pulls up to the house you bolt from the bike anger and anxiety causing a storm to roll in your chest.

You pay him no mind as you stalk toward the back door, effortlessly avoiding the trips and traps. All your focus is on quelling this emotion, on keeping it together, that you don’t hear him come up behind you.

In an instant, he has you in a headlock, metal arm tight around your throat as it was the other day. This time though… he’s only holding back enough to not snap your neck. You slam your power slams back into him. It’s not enough to break his grip but it’s enough to allow you a few precious gulps of air before he’s on you again.

He says nothing. No explanation, no taunt, just silence. Even his breath is measured and steady. You’ve never been afraid of him… until now.

You force another wave of your power back using it to gain enough leverage to send you both to the ground. Jabbing your elbow into his ribs a few times he lets go gasping and you bolt away from him.

Bucky doesn’t run after you, his pace is steady, determined. He told you before to only run when you have to, it tires you out too fast and that’s energy that can be better spent elsewhere. Taking a deep breath you slow, turning back to face him not too far from where he’d taken you in the grass a few days ago—a lifetime ago.

The day around you is another bright and beautiful one, it’s almost offensive.

He stops a few yards from you, cold stare chilling you despite the warmth. A few moments stretch into what feels like an eternity as you assess who will move first.

Steeling yourself you go for it, heading for him at a dead sprint. Bucky doesn’t move—a few feet away you feign to the left before kicking away from the ground and veering right. It’s too fast for him to correct and you take advantage, landing a kick to his right shoulder sending him stumbling.

Moving to land another blow he catches your calf in his metal grip flinging you away.

This whole flying thing is new and you can’t get your bearings as you hurtle through the air. Who knows how far you would have gone had your back not met the old immovable wood of the barn with a crack.

You can’t even cry out, can’t breathe in. Your ribs ache, your head is spinning, and there he is stalking toward you.

Crumpled on the ground looking up at him feels like a nightmare, one you know the ending to already and you brace yourself for impact.

No, you think shaking your head in an attempt to clear your vision. You have no idea what is happening but he is not this man and you won’t be so easily beaten.

As he approaches you steady yourself. Just as he’s in range to strike you slip beneath his fist sliding around him landing a blow to the side of his neck then pull his knees from under him. He falls forward just a bit. Before he’s able to catch himself you spring back wrapping your power tight around his shoulders to slam him with all your force into the ground.

Bucky cries out in pain causing your chest to constrict. But as he arches his gaze back there’s no tenderness in his eyes.

This shakes you. Your hold on him wavers just enough for him to break free. Taking advantage he flips and rushes you. Barely, you manage to deflect his right hook at full force, your forearm screaming in pain as you do so. Pushing his body back a bit with your power you kick him with all your strength in the solar plexus. He gasps stumbling back.

“Enough!” You scream. The wave of energy from you cocoons him as it had before but instead of tender you squeeze like a boa constrictor and press him to his knees. He struggles against you with all his strength sending shock waves through your mind and body. Still, you hold tight.

“I said enough.” Your voice a low resonant growl as you force him from his knees to his back. Standing beside him, staring down, you meet his cold eyes with your own burning rage.

“Good,” he sighs, all the fight flooding from him.

“What?”

“You beat me. That’s good.”

Shaking your head you step back from him, your power releasing. Your breath comes in rapid, shallow gasps, doubt and anger and anxiety flooding your system.

With a groan he sits up, rubbing the side of his neck where a bruise is already forming before slowly rising to his feet. Finally, he looks at you, and it’s him, it’s your Bucky staring at you with regretful eyes.

It doesn’t soothe you though. This wasn’t an outburst, wasn’t some repressed trauma or lapse. This was calculated, planned.

Fuming you close the small distance between you. With every ounce of your strength you slap him across his face, palm stinging. His head flies to one side and then the other as you slap him once more. He does nothing, just stares at the ground as he spits blood from his mouth.

“Fuck you,” is all you can manage through clenched teeth as you raise your hand again. This time he catches your wrist in his right hand, holding it firm, as his eyes meet yours.

“I had to know,” he says as though that explains everything. You shake your head, not trusting yourself to open your mouth.

“If I had given you any warning it wouldn’t be the same… I had to know that you were ready if you needed to be.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, “And if I’d lost?” A part of you already knows what he’s going to say. You swallow the lump in your throat, steeling yourself.

“We’d just need to work harder.”

Blinking at him in disbelief, once more fully thrown by his behavior, you open your mouth but nothing comes out. Based on how he was behaving, you had expected him to pull the same bullshit he had months ago and tell you that he couldn’t be with you, that the danger was too great and other drivel. Surprised or not you’re still furious.

“Let’s go inside,” he turns toward the house.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spit.

Bucky’s breath audibly catches. He runs a hand through his hair and turns back to face you. Sighing he sits cross-legged on the grass, rubbing his chest where you’d kicked him.

“That’s fair,” he looks up at you, eyes desperate. “Can we talk here then?”

You shake your head looking away, “I think I’m past talking.” Your whole body begins to shake, “You…” The words stick in your throat but you force them out, “I was afraid of you. I’ve-”

“Good,” he says softly. “There are parts of me you should be afraid of, Y/N. I needed to-”

“Remind me?!” You explode turning to him once more. “Do you really think I need a fucking reminder of what you’re capable of when I know what I’m capable of?!”

The energy flows from you effortlessly. You reach your arm out to direct it with pinpoint accuracy, just an extension of your body. Your fist tightens and you can feel the fabric of the neck of his shirt even though you’re at least six feet from him.

“Do you?” You ask once more in a low rumble before lifting him up, his feet dangling, and tossing him back. He doesn’t fall flat, righting himself and landing in a crouch.

“No,” he says, staying low, only lifting his face to yours. “I needed to be sure that if I came at you full force, you’d be ok. I needed to know that you’d kick my ass if necessary.” The corner of his mouth ticks up in an attempt at a smirk.

“Why?” Your voice cracks, and you lower yourself to the ground.

“Because,” he walks over and sits directly across from you, “The government’s of the world and the goddamn Avengers just descended less than a thousand miles from here and all of them have a reason to want my head.” Your brows knit and you look away. Tenderly he reaches for your hands and you let him take them.

“Please look at me, Y/N.” You do.

He gives you a sad smile, “It’s easy to try and pretend that this,” he raises your right hand to his lips leaving a lingering kiss, “is all there is. That we could build a life without fear… But Sokovia reminded me that it’s not real.”

“No,” you shake your head like a child denying an obvious truth. “We can be happy. We can-”

“We can be. Hell, with you I am.” His thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, “But we have to be smart. We have to have a solid plan. Because…” He stops, his eyes squeeze shut.

When he opens them he looks down at your clasped hands continuing, “Because, if someone comes for me I… the chances of them taking me in to try me… Well, weapons don’t usually get due process, they get put to use elsewhere.”

“You’re not-”

“I am. To them I am.”

You hate this, hate everything about this. You hate it because you know he’s right. Both of you had been existing day to day for the last seven months on the thin hope that the worst you had to worry about was your own ghosts.

Sure you’d been training but even that was laced in a certain kind of intimacy. Other than passing mentions of the great vast ‘they’ who could come for either of you at any time, you didn’t discuss particulars. It was a Pandora’s box of fear neither of you wanted to be responsible for opening. Once you laid out a plan of escape, of attack, a worst-case scenario, then you were letting them into this life you’d built. You hated it, but it needed to be done.

“If someone comes for me the likelihood of them turning me back into him is higher than anything else. If… If I’m that I won’t be able to keep myself from harming you. That’s why I needed to know.” The shame on his face makes your heartache. Still, you’re confused.

“Do—do you think they’d send you after me? That they’d really take you in just to send you ba-”

“They just need the words.”

You shake your head, “I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t have…” His breath is ragged suddenly, hands shaking in yours, “There are… wo-words.” You give his hands a reassuring squeeze, “Say the right words in the right order and… I’m not… I can’t…” You nod letting him know you understand, even if only a little bit.

“Maybe… maybe they won’t work… maybe I’m strong enough but…” His eyes are wide, “I won’t risk you on a maybe.”

“Ok,” you breathe out. “Ok.”

“Do you… did they have words for you?” You shake your head. “That’s good.”

Good, you think as you take in this man before you. How many years had it taken them to break him? How much effort did they have to extend to make him the monster they wanted? Was it really good that you had broken so easily that they didn’t need more creative methods to bend you to their will?

“I’m sorry,” his voice pulls you from that line of thought. He looks broken, “I know this is hard. But,” he takes a deep breath, “seeing Steve reminded me—reminded me of what I can do to someone I care about in that state.”

He’d never spoken about what happened at the Triskellion but you knew enough. After you got free of Hydra you’d needed to understand what led to your opportunity to escape--scouring the Hydra files and any information you could find for weeks. You knew Bucky was a tool they used in the attack, you knew Steve Rogers was found on the banks of the Potomac beat to hell but still breathing.

“I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off. “You didn’t kill him. I have no doubt you could have but you didn’t.”

You take his face in your hands, his eyes close, “I understand why you did this. I do. But I want you to remember that you held yourself back then. And I’ll remind you until the end of my days that you were able to break through and save a woman you didn’t even know too—knowing what they’d do to you for defying them.” He opens his eyes and searches yours. “You are always in there, no matter what.”

He sighs, “Sometimes. And sometimes I get control too late to matter.”

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, not wanting him to linger on that particular slice of darkness.

His lips curl in a half-smile, “We’ll figure that out.”

“No more orders and surprise attacks?”

“No. From here on out we do this together. I promise.”

Tag List:

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky feels

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miriamkperceptionblog · 4 years ago

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Week 7

Independent study

Come to your Senses: Investigate your own senses. Focus on the sense of smell, taste, hearing and touch (not vision).

Currently, as Im writing this I am sitting in my cold, and damp Wellington flat. I am sitting on my couch in my lounge. I am going to investigate my senses from where I am sitting. ( I always sit here while I do my design work). I have never thought of my surrounding in any other way than ��just my flat” and never thought much about my surroundings in a deep sensory way. Im excited.

Smell -

I can smell my flatmates cooking their vegan hello fresh nachos. Along with the dusty curtains to my left, and a hint of the flowery perfume I put on this morning, which has now gone stale.

Taste -

I can’t describe the taste in my mouth… its just my spit.. I haven’t eaten anything in over an hour now and Its hard to describe this taste because I am so used to it.

Sound-

I can hear my flatmates food sizzle and the crunch of their coin chip packet, along with the occasional banging of the spatular on the edge of the pan. I can hear the fridge open and close and the sticking together of the magnets. I can hear the eco of our wooden floor under their feet as-well as feeling the vibrations each step makes.

The details of a touch/haptic/tactile experience-

Im currently holding my laptop on my lap. The metal was cold and hard at the beginning of my sit but is now warm and comfortable. I can feel the fan from my laptop spinning and vibrating my laptop against my thighs. My fingers on my keyboard feel a-little greasy and warn now. My track pad has a small blog of hardened glue on it and I can feel it every time I move my mouse. It feels sharp and hard.

2. Undertake some online research to learn about terms like proprioception, body awareness, haptic, equilibrioception, mechanoreception, balance, vibration.

Proprioception/ noun.

Perception or awareness of the position and movement of the body.

Proprioception refers to the body's ability to perceive its own position in space. Such as: Knowing whether feet are on soft grass or hard concrete, without looking (even while wearing shoes). Activities which strengthen you proprioception-crawling, push-ups, or squats. The sense though which we perceive the position and movement of our body, including our sense of equilibrium and balance, senses that depend on the notion of force.

Body awareness.

Body awareness is the internal understanding of where the body is in space. Body awareness is highly influenced by proprioceptive processing, the sensory information one receives from the movement and force of muscles and joint groups.

A person's understanding of his or her own body parts and their capability of movement.

Haptic.

Haptic perception is the process of recognizing objects through touch. It involves a combination of somatosensory perception of patterns on the skin surface (e.g., edges, curvature, and texture) and proprioception of hand position and conformation. Haptics is the science and technology of transmitting and understanding information through touch. “haptic” means anything relating to the sense of touch. (It's derived from the Greek word for touch.) Haptic can be used in design! Such as being used to engage people's sense of touch to enhance the experience of interacting with onscreen interfaces. For example, when an Apple Pay transaction is confirmed, the system plays haptics in addition to providing visual and auditory feedback.

Equilibrioception/sense of balance.

Is one of the physiological senses. It allows humans and animals to walk etc. without falling. Some animals are better in this than humans, for example allowing a cat (as a quadruped using its inner ear and tail) to walk on a thin fence.

This is the same as when you pedal your bike. The speed of the tires on your bike allows it to balance.

mechanoreception.

A mechanoreceptor, also called mechanoceptor, is a sensory cell that responds to mechanical pressure or distortion. There are four main types of mechanoreceptors in glabrous, or hairless, mammalian skin: lamellar corpuscles (Pacinian corpuscles), tactile corpuscles (Meissner's corpuscles), Merkel nerve endings, and bulbous corpuscles.

Balance/noun.

a state of equilibrium or equipoise; equal distribution of weight, amount, etc. something used to produce equilibrium; counterpoise. mental steadiness or emotional stability; habit of calm behavior, judgment, etc. a state of bodily equilibrium: He lost his balance and fell down the stairs.

Vibration/noun.

Vibratory sensation is the sense of vibration, and may refer to: Vibration as a modality of cutaneous receptors (on the skin), referred to as pallesthesia. Hearing, which is sensation of air vibrations.

Select 1x and design an exercise and then do it. The subject can be either yourself or someone you know - record observations, your/their experience, what did you notice.

Proprioception- brainstorm.

Investigation 1 Proprioception

Sensory information you are receiving from your muscles, tendons, and ligaments.

Using your muscles scenes to control your muscles to keep you upright. For examples-walking on sand. Your muscles are adapting to an environment where you aren’t walking on a firm service and your muscles send information to your brain to tell you the position of your ankles and your knees.

(Blind people rely on proprioception sense quite a lot.)

Everyday activity-turning the lights of in my room ( so I can’t see) relying on my Proprioception to find my door handle…or to walk to my bathroom. I will be replying on the information my brain is getting about where my arm is and where i’m walking. Proprioception is what will be giving me this information.

Recorded observations, your/their experience, what did I notice.

I asked my flatmate Ava to try find my doorknob while in the dark and blindfolded. She found this task easy as she knew which location/height my door handle was at but I observed the way she walked and put her arm up infant of her. This was interesting as she walked much slower and was unsure of herself. I noticed she was moving her feet in a way that she was almost using them to make sure she didn’t have anything in front of her such as a step. Her arms went up infant of her straight away as she was using them as a guide as-well. She demonstrated proprioception during this activity.

Resource task.

Browse through the online resources below, select 1 and be prepared to share your findings in a group discussion for next week.

Source - “Marres Maastricht - Education.” Marres, https://marres.org/en/education/. Accessed 15 Sept. 2020.

“In The Invisible Collection art-lovers describe their favorite works of art. Originally created by Mediamatic Amsterdam, the project aimed to help the visually impaired to imagine works of art based on audio descriptions by art experts. In 2019, Marres developed a new version of The Invisible Collection, in which we started to collect stories about art (broadly defined) by non-art experts.”

I think this is an amazing project-this is based around the sense of hearing/sound. Art is meant to be enjoyed by all and when you can’t see it or feel it, It must make it extremely difficult for the visually impaired to enjoy art. Using this method is extremely beneficial and can create a sense of the artwork in the minds of visually impaired. By being able to hear how people describe the art people may be able to envision their on interpretation of the artwork. I would defiantly recommend this source to anyone exploring sound as their sense as it gives an insight into how much people you can’t see rely on this sense.

Key Module Resources.

Source- Smith, Mark M. “The explosion of sensory history.”(2010): in the psychologist 23(10):860-863.

Creative Practices

Locate creative producers ( at least 1 in your discipline area) working with the senses or sense modalities.

“Why Graphic Design Should Engage More Than Just the Sense of Sight.” Eye on Design, 17 Apr. 2018, https://eyeondesign.aiga.org/why-graphic-design-should-engage-more-than-just-the-sense-of-sight/.

Kate McLean’s Sensory Maps

Kate McLean’s maps are visually stunning, peppered with colourful dots and morphing concentric lines. They could almost be galaxies. In actuality, they are Smell Maps, plotting data from various cities that visualises the distinctive smells from different neighbourhoods. Kate McLean generates this data by conducting “smell walks” throughout the cities she maps, asking participants to record odours and their location, intensity, description, and associations. Smells like “canal,” “leafy fresh rain,” and “laundry” are each given a colour and are indicated by dots on the maps. The distorted concentric rings depict the smell’s intensity and range as they're carried by wind, diluted by range, and mixed with neighbouring smells. By plotting her experiential data, Kate makes smell visual and geographical, and makes a case for what information designer Giorgia Lupi calls “soft data.” “Using humans as sensors is a method that aggregates personal insight”.

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vesuvianvienna · 6 years ago

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Vampire Julian at the Masquerade with my apprentice Vienna. This is shameless. I have no shame. tagging @anjatheapprentice @arcana-dumpsterfire and @bazzpop and if anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

cw: heavy smut, blood

The ballroom. Empty for years after the Count’s untimely death, now brimming with champagne and laughter and the rustle of billowing skirts. Music rang from the rafters themselves, seemed to vibrate in the very walls as the partygoers danced, spun, and whirled around the cavernous space. Vienna stood near the back, clutching a full crystal of some sparkling liquid she had taken off a tray just to have something in her hands, grateful for the mask affixed to her face for its ability to hide the anxious expression on her face. Asra had accepted an invite to the Masquerade, but had mysterious business to attend to and had begged her to go in his stead. Weak when it came to denying her master, Vienna had agreed, and had barely slept for worrying since. Large crowds made her throat shrink and her stomach turn, especially large crowds of complete strangers. Even the dress, as breathtaking as it was, did little to boost her confidence. Asra had had it custom made for her, the midnight blue silk light as a summer breeze against her skin, the skirts enchanted with little spangled stars that twinkled when she moved. Her mask was similarly constructed, royal blue damask with spangles around the eyes, embroidered with silvery thread and adorned with a single rose, its petals matching the blue of her hair. Her shoulders and decolletage had been dusted with a silvery powder, making her shimmer as if she had been sprinkled with starlight. No facet of her appearance, no matter how whimsical or fantastic, could bolster her. Shaking hands gripped her skirts as she shouldered her way past the revelers and out into the garden, taking no notice of a figure clad all in black, piercing eyes following her every move as he shadowed her.

Fortunately, though the terrace wasn’t entirely deserted, it was far less crowded than the ballroom itself, and Vienna took a deep breath, thankful to be able to shake off the claustrophobia. The marble of the railing was cool against her forearm as she leaned against it, looking out over the moonlit gardens, a soft smile touching her face. How she would love to explore them, to acquaint herself with all the curious and exotic blooms that flourished there.

While she was lost in thought, a man dressed in brocades of clashing purple and orange sidled up to her, a drink in his hand and a rather improper gleam in his eye. “Enjoying the garden? Surely you must be, being such a rare and exquisite bloom yourself.”

Vienna’s head turned, slightly startled by the voice to her right. “Oh,” she said, clutching her glass closer and giving the stranger a polite, if rather stiff smile. “I suppose so.”

Mistaking her curt response for an invitation to move closer, the man grinned down at her, now merely a hair’s breadth away. He lifted a gloved hand to pinch her chin between thumb and forefinger, lifting her head as if to inspect her. “Yes, a rare flower indeed. Are you seeking company tonight?”

Stunned at first by his forwardness, the smell of strong liquor on his breath snapped her out of her frozen state, and she wrenched away from his grasp. “I most certainly am not,” she spat, painted lips curled back over her teeth in a disgusted grimace. “I think you should leave.”

“Ah, I see this rose has thorns,” the man chuckled, advancing toward her once more. Her rejection didn’t seem to faze him, violet-clad hands reaching for her once more. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, watery eyes fixed at a point above her head. From behind her, she heard a voice, pitched low in warning.

“You heard the lady.”

For a moment, the boorish gentleman seemed nearly frightened of whoever stood behind her, though she didn’t dare take her eyes off of him long enough to look. But the fear seemed fleeting, and his lips curled in a smirk as his alcohol-driven bravado returned. “So she’s your pet, then? Surely you wouldn’t mind sharing her? After all, a sweet little thing like this should be-”

His words were cut off in a flash of silver as Vienna surged forward to press a small but deadly sharp blade against the side of his neck, the weapon drawn from somewhere within the folds of her skirt. “I am no man’s pet,” she hissed, thoroughly repulsed by his behavior. “You will leave the palace grounds now, and I will be sure to inform the Countess of your despicable behavior.” Vienna stepped back, extending her arm to keep the knife to his throat. “Now, get out.”

The message finally seemed to have sunken through, the man turned with a flick of his coattails and fled. Vienna relaxed, tucking her blade back into her skirts; she had no intention of reporting anything to Nadia, who already had enough to worry over without dealing with the headache of this trifling encounter. Perhaps at a later date, she would bring it up, but for now–

Suddenly, she remembered the voice from behind her, soft in tone but threatening in pitch and timbre. In a rustle of silk, she turned to see who had tried to intervene, but was met with an empty terrace. Mere moments later, she heard a soft chuckle and caught of a flash of black out of the corner of her eye, a long shape that seemed to be heading for the maze. Without thinking, she gathered her skirts and followed, wanting to see her would-be rescuer, wanting to thank him for his attempt at gallantry, but mostly wanting to put a face to the voice.

Tall hedges surrounded her on both sides as she entered the maze, her heart rising to the back of her throat. She knew it well enough by now, but there was still the possibility of getting lost within its twists and turns. A voice–his voice–seemed to sound from within, beckoning her further, hesitation a mere memory as she kicked off her ridiculous heeled slippers to run after him.

Don’t be afraid. I won’t bite. Follow, little one, follow…

No matter how fast she ran or where she turned, his voice always seemed to be just ahead of her, guiding her deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, when finally, she reached the courtyard at the center. There he stood, his back to her, strikingly tall and imposing. As she drew closer, he turned, a pleased smirk on his mouth, one piercing grey eye pinned to her. The hem of his long cape brushed the ground, stirred the grass around his booted feet as he fully faced her.

“Well done, lovely one.”

Vienna paused, her body twitching as if summoned to him by invisible strings, and yet she hesitated. “Who are you?” The question was asked softly, curiously, accompanied by a slight tilt of her head. Logically, she knew there should be fear, but she felt none. His grin widened, a dark brow arching over the top of a beaked mask.

“I’ve had more names than most. You may call me Julian.” He bent at the waist, sweeping forward in a graceful bow. “And what might I call you?”

“Vienna.” She gave her name without a moment’s thought, a smile touching her lips as he straightened and strode toward her. Gently, he reached for her hand, cradling it in both of his as if she were some delicate artifact, and brought it to his mouth.

“A pleasure, dear lady,” he purred.

With him so close now, she felt something prickle at the back of her mind, something that felt like a warning. Her stomach gave a clench as she realized that his lips were cold, even through the silk of her glove, and when he glanced up at her through his lashes and smiled, she caught a glint of something sharp and white. Pointed teeth. Fangs.

“You aren’t human, are you?”

He laughed, a soft chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he straightened, still holding her hand. “My, you are quick on the draw, aren’t you? No, darling, I haven’t been human for quite some time.” His head tilted to the side, regarding her with curiosity and amusement. “Yet you aren’t afraid of me. Why is that?”

For a moment or two, Vienna couldn’t answer. Why wasn’t she afraid? She had heard Asra speak of his kind, creatures that had once been human but had been bitten, infected, cursed. They could only walk in darkness, possessed unholy strength, speed, and senses, and sustained themselves on sacred, running blood. They were meant to be monsters, murderers, and yet…she saw no such evil in his eyes, no such malice in his smile. Slowly, she finally answered, “If you had wanted to hurt me by now, you could have. If you wished me dead, I would be.”

Julian laughed again, at last releasing her hand, though he took a step closer, looking pleased when she didn’t move back. “Clever woman. It’s true, I mean you no harm. My kind have gathered a rather nasty reputation, but you have nothing to fear from me.”

Her gaze was soft beneath a furrowed brow, questioning, searching. “Then why lead me here?”

His teeth gleamed in a wide, rather insolent grin. “You intrigued me. I haven’t seen you at the Masquerade before, and I’ve been in attendance for many, many years. And after that display with that poor buffoon, I knew I had to introduce myself.” Julian chuckled at the memory. “Here I thought I would come to your rescue, your dashing hero, but I believe you frightened him more effectively than I ever could.” His hand lifted, pausing for a moment and only resting his fingertips against her neck when she didn’t pull away, her head lifting a fraction to expose the slender column. The leather was cool against her skin, and she pressed her lips together to hold back a sigh. “And even from across the ballroom, you smelled so sweet…”

His voice dripped with longing, with hunger, but not threat, his touch ever gentle as he traced the shimmering ridge of her collarbones with the tip of his finger. Her stomach gave a pleasant little flutter beneath her corset, an unfamiliar heat settling there as he swallowed her up in his ravenous stare. Slowly, she reached up, lifting onto her toes to reach his mask and tug it away from his face. Her heart hammered in her chest at the sight of him, sharp lines and angular features, handsome and dangerous. His lips, soft and full when they weren’t curled in a smirk, lifted at the corners, and Vienna wondered if he could hear how her heart began to race at the reveal of his face. His hand lifted to her cheek, tracing the edge of her mask, before he murmured, “May I?”

Vienna nodded, closing her eyes as he reached behind her head to untie the mask and lift it gently away from her face. If the mask made a sound when it hit the ground, she couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in her ears as he cupped her cheek in his hand, his touch cool and achingly tender. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw that his stare had shifted to the slope of her neck, flushed pink in a rosy blush. “Vienna,” he cooed, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers, “sweet little one, will you let me have a taste?” His touch slid to her throat, and she wondered how such cold fingers could leave such heat in their wake. “I won’t take much, just a sip or two.”

Her voice felt locked in her throat at his softly worded request, so she took his hand instead, his long fingers curling around hers as she led him to a bench made of stone, set with soft cushions in jewel-toned fabrics. Her skirts rustled as she sat, pulling him to sit beside her as she held his hand in her lap. “Take what you need,” she said gently, tilting her head back to better see his face and to better expose her vulnerable throat. Julian smiled, fangs glinting with pinpricks of captured starlight.

“Let’s not be hasty,” he purred, curling a finger beneath her chin to keep her head tilted at the perfect angle. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t begin with a kiss?” His head lowered, his silhouette outlined in silver moonlight, and his lips brushed against hers, so soft at first she wasn’t sure she had felt them at all. His mouth was as cool as his hands, sending a pleasant shiver skittering down her spine as his lips slotted more firmly against hers, both hands cradling her head as if he were afraid she would slip from his grasp. Vienna’s hands curled in the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer, all but melting into the kiss. Her lips parted as she sighed against his mouth, barely noticing when he leaned forward, his hand cupped beneath her head to cushion it as he pressed her onto her back. His cape fell around them, shielding them from the outside world as his tongue slipped into her mouth, almost shy as it slid along hers. At the first moan he coaxed from her, Julian answered with one of his own, her arms locking around his neck as his body covered hers, all passion and sweetness and breathless anticipation. At last, he broke the kiss, giving her only a moment’s pause to catch her breath before his lips descended onto her throat.

At first, his kisses remained soft, like gentle electric pulses that tingled down her spine. Then his mouth opened and those fangs grazed her skin, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp as he pinched her pulse between his teeth. There was no blood, not yet, but the mark he left swelled a livid rose madder, a slow drag of his tongue both soothing the sting and drawing a mewl from her. “Beautiful,” he whispered against her, though she couldn’t tell if he was referring to her or to the mark. Her hand, trembling ever so slightly, slid back through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he crouched over her, streamlined sinew and lean, predatory strength that didn’t match the tenderness of his gaze. His lips touched hers once more, briefly, before her turned her head to the side, lowering his mouth to the unmarked side of her neck. His teeth paused at the looping throb of her vein, allowing her a moment to brace herself before sinking his fangs into her soft skin with a low hiss.

Vienna cried out, clutching at him as the pain flared hot, then subsided, giving way to a sensation that wasn’t quite pleasure but was too close to tell the difference. It was intimacy in a form no human tongue could describe, as if he were drinking from the bowl of her heart, running his fingers through her soul. Less than half a minute seemed to stretch to fill an eternity before Julian finally lifted his head, looking as though it pained him to do so. A thrill of something she couldn’t name shot through her at the sight of his lips darkened by her blood, stained a deep, damning crimson. Before she could fully enjoy the sight of them, however, he was lunging forward to take her lips in another kiss, this one desperate and frantic, as if he had swallowed a deadly poison and her mouth held the only antidote. Expecting to be repulsed by the taste of her own blood, Vienna found herself strangely enchanted by it, the tang and salt so foreign and yet so familiar.

When at last he let her breathe, Julian looked down at her like a man half-starved, caressing her cheek and gazing deep into her starry eyes. “Delicious,” he murmured, stroking one fingertip over the teeth marks in her throat before his mouth lowered to her skin once more, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat before nipping at her collarbones. “I want more.”

His kisses strayed all over her body, somehow leaving spots of heat in their wake even through the layers of clothing between his lips and her skin. The line of her decolletage, the silk-clad swells of her breasts, the quivering plane of her stomach; she half expected to see scorch marks left behind on her dress. Vienna shivered, pushing herself up on her elbows as Julian wrapped long fingers around each ankle, grinning as he saw her legs were bare beneath her skirts. “Please,” he purred, sliding one leather gloved hand up her calf. “Let me taste you deeper, sweet Vienna.”

“Yes,” she said almost too quickly, too breathlessly, lifting her leg to rest her ankle on his strong shoulder. “God, yes.”

His eyes flashed as his hands slid up her legs, pushing her skirts up around her hips as he lowered himself between her thighs, his broad shoulders opening her up for him. The moonlight exposed her, left her vulnerable beneath his heated gaze, but she felt no fear, nor did she feel cheap or embarrassed. The way he licked his lips when he saw the thin triangle of sheer fabric at the apex of her thighs, the way the black centers of his eyes seemed to swallow up the grey made her feel strangely powerful, ethereal, like an enchantress of myth and fable. His fingers ghosted up her thighs, teasing her with feather-light touches as he pressed kisses to the trail of warmth they left behind.

“Look at me,” he whispered, urging her eyes down to where his mouth rested against the pulse of her femoral artery. Reddened lips skinned back over his teeth as he bit into her as if he were savoring the sweet juices of a ripe, succulent fruit, not deep enough to break the skin but hard enough to leave a livid bruise, the flesh darkening as he sucked the taste of her into his mouth. Vienna cried out, grateful for their seclusion as she wound her fingers through the gentle auburn waves of his hair, ruthless bites littering her thighs before he lifted his head and nuzzled into her palm. “Do you have any idea how utterly edible you look right now, darling? If we aren’t careful, I might just swallow you whole.”

Midnight blue silk caressed his cheek, one gloved fingertip tracing the curve of his lower lip. “Then please, be careless with me.”

The delight on his face gave her heart a thrill, now gentle lips pressing a heated kiss to the cup of her palm before he lowered his head once more. Impatiently, he tugged her skirts aside so that she could see him properly, the wordless command to keep her eyes on him written plainly in his stare as he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to her mound. Vienna bit at her lip, all the air pulled from her lungs as long fingers curled around her undergarments, ripping them away as if they were no sturdier than a moth’s wing. He drank in her shiver as the night air caressed her bare skin, unbearably cool against her heat. Black leather slid deliciously against pale thighs as he lowered his head once more, auburn curls tickling her skin as he hesitated, his lips a mere whisper away. That first teasing flick of his tongue drew a mewl from her, a rather feline grin tugging at the corners of his mouth before he repeated the action, a slow, devilish drag up her folds that had her writhing. His name left her lips in a ragged moan, more breath than sound, and that alone broke him, a groan rumbling in his chest as he closed his lips around her clit and sucked hard, fingers sinking into her thighs. Vienna’s back bowed, fingers clutching at his hair, at his shoulders, needing to grab hold of something before she floated away while his clever tongue dipped lower, prodding into her slick entrance with a muffled sound of pleasure. His eyes were closed, concentrating on the overwhelming taste of her, heady and exquisite, more fine than the rarest vintage, sweetened by the sounds of her moans and the way her hips rocked up, chased his mouth, as if she would perish without its warmth. As his tongue slipped deeper, playfully curling and twisting, one cool leather-clad fingertip rubbed slow, tantalizing circles over her clit. Her thighs trembled, her breath trembled, her whole body shook under the dizzying spell of his wicked, wicked mouth, a rabbit snared in the kindest of traps. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and finally Julian’s eyes opened, the pupils blown wide and his stare dark and intense. He didn’t speak, at least not with words, but she heard him nonetheless.

Darling girl, come for me.

As if the command itself were a sharp edge, it cut through the last of her tethers and she flew apart, shattering with a cry of his name. Every muscle coiled tight, every sinew strung as tight as an archer’s bow, and yet he did not relent or ease his passions; if anything, his tongue pressed deeper, his finger stroked faster. Adoring eyes narrowed with the intent to drive her utterly mad with pleasure, one orgasm spiraling into another, and as her body began to show signs of coming down, the insistent flicking of his tongue at her clit tossed her headlong into her third.

He had mercy on her then, and lifted his mouth from her, licking his lips to savor her as she collapsed in a heap of heaving breasts and rumpled skirts, eyes as vast as the universe itself as she slowly floated back down into her body. Julian was wound tight as a spring as he crawled back up over her, flicking her skirts back down over her thighs and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You,” he rasped, “are dangerous, sweet girl. A man could lose himself to you.”

Vienna slowly sat up, feeling a dreamy light-headedness that was part blood-loss but mostly pleasure. His arms curled around her waist to hold her flush against his body as she covered his face in tiny raindrop kisses, her heart shuddering in her chest. She needed to be closer, needed to feel more, needed-

With a short yell, the two of them tumbled off of the bench and onto the grass below, Julian tucking himself beneath Vienna to absorb the impact. Strands of hair that had come loose from the twist she had snared them in tickled his cheeks as she sprawled over him, catching herself on his chest. For a moment, they stared at each other in stunned silence. Then, Vienna felt a purr rumbling in his chest beneath her hands, felt his hands slide from her waist up her back. “Yes, I much prefer this view,” Julian said with a smirk, gloved hands now slipping over her shoulders and down her arms. “Whatever will you do with me, Vienna, now that you’ve got me in such a compromising position?”

She blinked, and then a feline smirk of her own curled on her lips, her body fluid and graceful as she slid down to straddle his hips. With her skirts rucked up around her hips, she could feel him against her bare folds, the texture of his breeches deliciously coarse, and beneath them…

“Oh, Julian,” she breathed, spreading her thighs and rocking her hips against his, rubbing herself deliberately over him and drinking in the way his eyelids fluttered, his lips parted. His hands curled at the bell of her hips, gripping at her skirts as if he were seconds away from tearing them from her body. “Julian,” she breathed again, unbuttoning his waistcoat and the shirt underneath, sliding her palms over his bare chest. She wanted him, and oh how the fire of that want blazed hot in her belly. But did he desire her the same? Would a man of such strength and power want someone so fragile, so mortal? He cast no spell, held her under no thrall; every choice she made, she made on her own, and such passion was unfamiliar to her, foreign and frightening. Would he guide her through the fire?

The touch of his cool hand on her cheek brought her back to the present, and she noticed a crease between his brows, a searching look in his eyes. “Vienna,” he breathed, “you don’t have to do this. If you don’t want this–”

She surged forward, crushing whatever he was about to say between their lips in a heated kiss. His hands gripped at her, desperation in his fingertips as she curled her fingers in his hair, her lips parting to allow his tongue into her mouth. When at last she surfaced for air, she pressed her forehead to his, blue sweeping against red. “I fear I want this too much,” she admitted in a whisper, pressing herself closer to him. “We have only just met, you and I.”

A moment’s pause, then a short, adoring laugh. “I have the strength to snap your neck like a twig, and you’re worried that I may think poorly of you for wanting me?” There was no malice in his gaze, no malevolence in his words, and she leaned into his hand, nuzzling against his palm. “You know what I am. You know the monstrous truth of my nature, yet you don’t shy away from me. You desire me all the same, despite the brevity of our…relationship. If that is not something to covet, precious girl, then I don’t know what is.”

A bit of her fear drained away, and a smile graced her lips. “Do all your conquests find you this charming?” He laughed again, and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before sitting up once more. Her fingers were sure and steady as she unfastened the front of his breeches, her breath catching in her throat as she saw in full moonlight what she had only felt before. She grasped him, warmer than she had expected and heavy in her hand, and he let out a soft groan, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Vienna lifted her skirts once more, positioning them so that the tip of his length just barely rested at her entrance, tormenting him with her heat, so close and yet out of his reach. From within the folds of her skirt, she withdrew her knife once more, liquid moonlight shimmering along the blade before she drew it over her palm. Julian’s eyes widened, lips parting as his stare darkened, intensified at the sight of her blood. “Drink,” she instructed, holding her hand out to him. “Please. If I am to be yours, then let me be yours fully.”

Julian hesitated only a moment before wrapping his hand around her wrist and tugging her hand to his mouth, his tongue dragging sensuously over the shallow cut. He groaned, bucking his hips up against her, and Vienna slowly let herself sink down onto his length, letting out a soft keen as he pushed deep within her. A growl rumbled against her palm as he sank into her velvet fire, the pleasure and heat like heaven itself as she languidly rolled her hips, adjusting to the feel of him. Vienna braced her free hand against his chest as she set a pace, swiveling her pelvis as she leaned forward, her head swimming with the throb of dull pain at her hand and the heady pleasure down below. Julian’s lips entirely covered the cut on her hand, his eyes half-lidded and piercing as he gazed up at her like he would like nothing more than to swallow her whole. When at last he tore her hand away from his mouth, his lips stained dark, dripping crimson, he reached up and deftly plucked the pins from her hair, letting the blue curls tumble around her shoulders. “That’s better,” he purred, carding her hair through his fingers as he gripped her hip, urging her to move faster. “Just like that, darling, yes.”

Her moans were swept away on the evening breeze, soft whimpers and curses falling from her lips like rain as Julian dug his heels into the ground and thrust up into her. Their bodies rose and fell, crested and crashed like waves upon a shore, ceaseless and eternal. Vienna felt her chest contract, all the oxygen pulled out of her lungs as he pressed on her back, urging her down to press his lips to her chest, over her racing heart. Time seemed to stand still, as if the moon herself had paused to watch them, to guard them. Her blood still slicked his lips, leaving lurid marks on her collarbones and where the tops of her breasts swelled above her dress, yet she couldn’t find the will to care how he marked her. She whispered his name, chanted it like a prayer as that fire raged, that scorching coil drawing tighter and tighter within her, and Julian pulled her closer, clung to her as if she were the last hope for his soul.

“Vienna,” he murmured, sliding his hands over the soft, tempting swells of her breasts. “Oh, Vienna…” He was close, too close; a brush of her lips on his skin would be his undoing, and he removed the glove covering his right hand with his teeth, reaching down between their undulating bodies. Fingers that were warmer than they had been at the start but still startlingly cool against her heat slid over her clit, rubbing in gentle circles, coaxing her sweetly toward that precipice. “Come over the edge with me, darling. Please.”

Vienna was as helpless to disobey as she was to keep the sun from rising or the stars from shining, and she flew apart with a scream that could have held the syllables of his name but was too broken to tell. The world faded into streaks of dim color, shrank until it contained only him and the way he moved inside of her, the way he touched her so reverently it could break her heart. As she shattered, so did he, bursting within her with a moan and a shout of her name, and oh, if a lost soul like his could experience a woman so divine, then perhaps he wasn’t quite as damned as he believed.

At last, they collapsed against each other, his arms banded tight around her middle and her little fists curled in the open neck of his shirt. For several long, breathless moments, they laid there, panting and dazed, neither truly grasping that what had just transpired was real, and not some vivid dream. Then, Vienna kissed him, tasting the last traces of her blood on his mouth, and the spell broke, a smile curling on his lips as he returned her kisses. When at last their breathing had returned to normal, Julian sat up, pulling out of her and tucking himself back into his trousers. “I’d best return you to the Masquerade before you’re missed,” he said almost mournfully, stroking his bare hand through her hair. Vienna opened her mouth to protest, but she knew that Nadia would be concerned if she went missing. Slowly, on wobbling legs, she stood, brushing bits of grass from her skirts and readjusting her dress. Julian appeared in front of her, dangling her mask from one finger. “Allow me?”

Carefully, he tied the mask back onto her face, even helping her rearrange her hair into something more suitable for a social gathering. She didn’t miss his salacious chuckle as he picked blades of grass from her curls, nor did he miss the way she shivered when he brushed the back of her neck with his fingertips. When he was finished, she turned and slid her hands over his chest, drawing her lip between her teeth. “Will I ever see you again?”

Julian chuckled, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Soon, lovely. I won’t be able to stay away for long.” His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close for one final kiss, more gentle than any before, his lips reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll find you,” he promised, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ll come back for you.”

And with that, he was gone, as if he had never been. A flash of black at her feet caught her eye, and she bent to pick up the only token he had left behind; his mask, beaked and feathered. She clasped it to her chest as she exited the maze, following the sounds of chatter and music back to the party, her slippers exactly where she had left them at the mouth of the labyrinth. The marks on her chest and neck attracted some odd stares and raised eyebrows, but no one gave her a second glance as she strode toward the palace, warmth in her chest and the gleam of a secret in her eyes. Julian would keep his word, of that she was certain, and her heart ached for him already. Her grip tightened on his mask, a wordless promise that he would come back to claim it, and her, soon.

Soon, my darling one

#the arcana #julian devorak #vampire julian #fan apprentice #fanfic #oh my god i posted to the wrong blog #shit #god at least this monstrosity is finally finished #this took way too long to write

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empressxmachina · 5 years ago

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by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me :D) | On DeviantArt | Also On Wattpad

Time was passing, and Madi felt like her chances of being found were slowly declining with it.

She was sure that it was now too late for any normal N.U. patron to just walk around. But she also knew that anyone on the losing team itself, especially the coaches, had pretty much free reign to enter whenever, and whether the K.U. teams’ visiting reservations had expired already was unknown.

The facility was so grandiose, and the doors in the locker room to the halls were soundproofing as far as she knew. She assumed the latter since no one came in and called out her team’s antics in there before the game, despite them being absolutely loud and proud, and she could only wonder how they were after winning. So, there was no way for her to know whether someone was coming or if people were, possibly still, fighting outside.

Madi didn’t think of Jake as an idiot or anything; however, she didn’t believe that he or any of the team was clever enough to pack a non-K.U.-affiliated set of clothes to walk and talk around inconspicuously like she did for Cari. Thus, if any Nashers were just as heated now as they were before and approached him, then there was a high probability of him getting caught in a brawl of his own. Madi prayed that that wasn’t the case for him so he could find her. Meanwhile, she hoped it wasn’t so calm that any passersby would think nothing of the locker room and lock its doors and trap her in.

She had enough reasons to be generally anxious about, well, everything, and she didn’t need this to be more of a horror story.

In a move to keep her mind off such awful ideas, including the recently cyclical and grossly petty thought of a Knight finding her and holding her for threat-laced ransom, she decided to tiredly trek across the gummy floor, re-collect her scattered things together, huddle in the corner of a leg of a bench, and play some music on her phone with its battery coming in clutch.

Although her size was now alien, the music allowed her to keep some semblances of humanity and happiness since the only thing that changed about it was its volume. Yet, that wasn’t a concern, either. Despite her phone being as diminished as she was, its earbuds had kept their snug fit and crisp sound. Though, she was positive that if she removed them from their audio jack, then their sounds would carry through the room as much as her voice did, aka not at all.

Nevertheless, Madi kept her cool as well as she could, jamming out until a song that she had remembered being chill suddenly had a budding interjection of bass, sort of like a drum solo. It went well with the beat, but the last thing she needed at the moment was to be shaken by surprise from big vibrations. She looked at her phone to see if she had accidentally downloaded a remix, and she hadn’t. It wasn't until more bass came through that Madi was influenced to remove the buds and realized what was happening.

The song was inaudible, yet the resonations stayed, encompassing her. Someone had finally entered the locker room.

Aside from the distant, echoing squeaks of sneakers entering and the door closing behind them, the room was quiet. Yet, Madi would’ve bet that one would’ve been able to hear a pin drop before her voice if she spoke. It was too risky to just speak out or run into the light again. So, she waited for identification, and she found herself on a lucky streak.

“Madi?” the familiar but magnified voice of Jake asked with resonance. “Are you in here?”

“Y-Yes!” she cried in reply, leaning out into the open with her phone in hand and earbuds dragging across the tacky tiles behind her. “I’m here!”

In her attempt to be rescued, the cup-sized cheerleader verified how powerless she was. Her voice didn't even bounce off the nearest locker or reverberate in the hollow underside of the bench. That, or too much was in her way of him to reach him. Either way, it was unsurprising when Jake called out for her again.

“Mads?” he tried a second time, scurrying down the section of the locker room opposite and most distant from Madi to search. “Come on, now. Where are you, girl?” Madi could hear him jogging through the rows of lockers, getting further and further away from her and groaning along the way. “This is not the time for hide-and-seek. Give me something to work with.”

“I-I am, damn it! I'm not even close to playing a game right now!” Madi understood his frustrations, but hers were much worse.

To try marching to the end of her row to get closer to him, Madi started by detaching herself from the gross ground. The farther she went down the lane, the more she could hear her friend coming back up toward the intersection of lockers where the entrance stood. When she finally reached the end of the locker chain, Jake simultaneously arrived back at the beginning of his. Although he wasn’t in open view, back in front of the door, she was still finally able to see a semblance of his immense form, now on a godly level.

His facial features were too far away for Madi to perceive in a good resolution, but she could make out the top of a hat peeking over the tops of the lockers without Jake stretching. Meanwhile, Madi could barely reach the lower groove of one of their doors with her arms raised. But she didn't stop trying to get his attention, now flailing around like a marionette. At one point, she could tell that Jake had turned his head in her direction, and Madi's heart nearly exploded from hope and over-inflation.

“Does… Does he finally see me… or hear me, even?” she wondered, thirsting for release from this hell.

He lingered toward her side of the room for a lengthy amount of time, pulling at her heartstrings as he appeared to pull various poses of confusion in the chilled air above her. However, her hopes dropped when his eyes didn’t lock on hers and he began going toward the exit.

“Madeline Yu,” Jake started with a dark undertone, glancing down the first few rows on Madi’s side, barely being able to view further than the third pair of lockers on each and not even caring about it, “I swear to God if you are not in that last locker room, then I’m having your ass!”

Usually, Madi only heard Jake get heated like that in a late-night bedroom. But being out in the open and at such a small size, even if he didn’t know it, made him appear even more intimidating, almost hell-bent on punishing her.

“My cred on the field tonight is not going to save me from being fucking benched or some shit!” he continued. “Do you even know what I had to say for them to even let me come out here!?”

Madi hadn’t wanted Jake to lie, but she hoped that he didn't tell anyone anything too ridiculous. Yet, no matter what he said, it could never compare to the reality that was her shrunken self. Still, Jake was obviously angered, and if he stayed true to his tendencies, then it wouldn't be long before he stormed off. So, Madi had to figure something out quickly.

“For fuck’s sake, Jake!” she huffed, having to turn around and run to the other side of the aisle to even see him now. “Of all the times I’ve asked you to be a little bitch for me, you save your cue for right now!?”

As Madi ran along the lockers' sides, she could hear slams on metal, assumed to be Jake going back, doing a final once-over, rushing said search, and gripping on the corners of lockers to peek around them. If they both kept up their paces, then it wouldn't be too long before their sights intersected. However, just as she hoped wouldn't happen, the clanging stopped, and an echoing, exasperated sigh signaled Jake's forfeit.

“I'm not doing this!” he announced, throwing his hands up in defeat and disappointment and re-approaching the door. “There is nothing you could do that’s worth me making a fucking fool of myself!”

“No, no, Jake! Please!” Madi shrilled as she heard his footfalls begin to retreat away from her. Her pace back the other way hastened to fight his much longer strides but not without consequence.

That quickened pace resulted in her encountering the minefield that was the sea of spilled soda much faster than she would've hypothesized. With all her focus on getting to her now more humongous friend, it had been of little priority, despite a few millimeters of it probably being enough to down her outside and drown her inside. If she wasn't careful, then that was what it was going to do, as the itty-bitty beauty suddenly lost her balance and slipped, with her foot and ankle getting stuck on a particularly tacky but invisible spot.

Once again, she found herself wading in a bubbly batch, re-soaking her previously hardened cheerleading wear.

Gritting her teeth through the sprain in her ankle, she pushed up from the ground with one hand sunken in the Gak-like goop. Her other hand gripped her phone with its lengthy earbuds dangling behind it, now sticky and wet yet still playing barely audible tunes. Looking down at them gave her a one-shot-one-opportunity idea that was just insane enough to possibly work. Jake couldn’t hear her, but he could probably hear her phone.

“For the love of all things good,” Madi begged, clasping both hands over her heart, “please let those two semesters of Physics have some clout at this moment.”

Madi stared down her target in the distance: the stagnant slice of her carcinogen of a soda can. Its pop-top faced her and its cut that separated the two halves and flooded the floor. Channeling the spirits of both the football team and the baseball team, she yanked her headphones out of their jack, focused on the skateboard-sized sipping hole, and threw her now music-blasting phone toward it in a spin and at a speed that any coach of any sport would've been proud of.

Its flight through the air even impressed Madi, only having dealt with balls of a sporting nature on occasion. However, when the phone went right through its goal as she wanted, she couldn’t immediately celebrate with a touchdown dance.

Music was no longer playing. She didn’t think she had paused her playlist, and she didn’t hear the phone break on impact, but all she got back was silence. Not even an ad.

Quiet was her only companion, and thus her entire act of technical prowess was marked useless, making her wonder why she didn’t just try calling Jake again since that had obviously worked. With a presence lost in the wind and hopes shattered, there wasn’t anything else she could do. As the footsteps of her only chance of liberation grew further and further away to meet the creaking of an opening door, Madi dropped down to her knees and flopped back into the puddle of pop, her falling tears muffled by face-shadowing hands yet harmonizing with the retreating bass.

But just before the final boom of a door closing should’ve come, drowning out Madi’s minuscule whimpers, something else broke through the relative silence. Bouncing off the aluminum and inner plastic of the slashed cylinder, finally, after faulty buffering, the sound waves of a song from way-back-when rang.

The melody didn’t even have to finish its introduction to be instantly recognizable, and Jake, due to karaoke at orientation years ago, matched it right to a certain someone.

“Oh. So, you want me to find you, now?” he laughed, reclosing the cracked door and backing back into the room. “You know I can’t resist a sweet throwback, even one as poppy as this.”

Re-facing the expanse and the unseen music performance, he crossed his arms over his chest and began a new exploration, scanning the area for where the music was coming from or, more importantly, any sight of Madi. Through his refined searching, it was proving true, to his surprise, that the sound wasn’t emanating from any speaker Nash had, and his friend still wasn’t visible.

If her face wasn’t dripping in carbonated cola, causing her to really feel like the after-party garbage she thought she was, Madi would’ve laughed at his playful comments. Nonetheless, she praised the heavens for her luck ex machina. Now realizing that the chances of him finding her increased tenfold, she jumped to shake off excess brownness from her upper half, let adrenaline and hope distract her from her sprain, and trudge toward her phone to be more noticeable. Since the can had magnified the phone’s volume, she was confident it could magnify hers as well.

The question now was if she could even reach its opening and get to it.

“This can’t go on for too much longer, Mads,” Jake sighed, continuing the hunt. “If the cheerleaders left behind one of their own, then my team can easily do the same to me.”

As true as his remarks were and the vexation in his voice was apparent, Jake still had his friend’s safety as number one. She was here, or he was being played like a fiddle, and he wasn’t going to leave until he found out which was the truth.

With the cheerful tunes of younger years as a signal or a siren’s song, he pressed on, passing rows one-by-one, curiosity as high as he was tall. “Where in the hell are you?”

As Jake traversed deeper into the locker room, the music grew louder, dampening his footfalls, much to his liking. However, when it seemed to be coming from right next to him – right in front of him, once he turned to face it – no electronic appliance was visible, and neither was Madi. All that he was met with was a soda can’s suicide.

The husk of its metal body was split in two as its syrup blood spread in all directions. Yet, the music was apparent, somehow calling out to him by his feet. Despite how unusual it was, logic was pulling Jake only one way. So, that’s where he went, squatting with his heels down toward the sound.

The volume of the song increased as he did so, and moving some hair out the way of his ears only raised it more. With the new level of stimuli, however, what Jake didn’t expect to see was where it was coming from.

Through a withdrawn squint, he made out a small box making music and ripples in a tiny crater of liquid within the top half of the can. It was obviously more than just a box, but its size couldn’t have been larger than his fingernail or the now-closed piercing he thought was a good idea to get in high school. He rationalized the idea of the sounds bouncing off the can’s insides, yet the technological marvel still shouldn’t have been as loud as it was.

Jake began to reach and pinch it up for further inspection, partially fearful that he’d crush it upon contact, but he paused when he got distracted by another unexpected sight: some sort of tiny tendril flopping around through the can’s drinking opening.

The jock sat in awe of the tiny tentacle of sorts wiggling back and forth – a stamen of a flower with no stem in sight. While its narrowness resembled that of a sewing pin, its fluidity was like ribbon. Yet, there was something corporeal about it as it seemed driven to grab something, and the bitty box just in front of it looked like that thing. He considered pushing the box closer to the flailing feeler but thought against it in the end. The box had to be Madi’s, whatever it was, and until he found her, it was his.

All the while, Jake didn’t miss how the wee waver also appeared to be intentionally avoiding the hole’s surrounding edges as if it didn’t want to hurt itself, exemplifying some inner intelligence and keeping his eyes glued to it. Such an anomaly the animate vine was, intriguing enough for him to want to save its image and research it another day. But before capturing it on his phone’s camera came to mind, a new sight caught his eye. There was more to the flapping frond that just its calculated wiggles.

Despite it being soda-coated, Jake, somehow, made out a golden hue across its surface, one a bit too comparable to that of the pullover he was wearing.

More curious than ever now, Jake had to see this thing up close. Yet, he was too cautious to not make a move for it. After all, he wasn’t sure what it was. If it became necessary, then he could’ve easily used any of his lanky appendages to swipe, kick, or crush the minute limb or whatever being it was connected to. Though, he truly hoped it wouldn’t ever have to come to that. His broad, bulky stature told one story, but Jake was mostly a gentle soul, only ever bouncing back on a person if they bounced on him first in every sense of the term. With this thing, however, the odds of an attack appeared to be on his side, and he gambled on that confidence by leaning forward to get a better view, looking past the rim of its surrounding can to see what he was dealing with.

What he got was the last thing he ever expected, but it made Madi’s mania all the more valid.

A bantam hip of fallow hue with a sliver of an onyx etching down it peeked out from under a regal violet and gold covering. An intricately stitched and detailed piece of fabric that wrapped around and fully shielded a pair of taut glutes except for in a slit on the side that had been turned too far. Their crests fittingly marked the apex and start of two sculpted legs, complete with socks and shoes. Up from the hip, a sea of ebony, chocolate-streaked waves connected at a crown where two other tiny appendages popped out: arms, of which one of them whipped and wound like the snakelike creature Jake had thought it was.

It just seemed too bizarre to be real – everything about the night had been like a dream – but this didn’t feel like a fantasy. He knew that figure anywhere, yet it was akin to a figurine now, one able to hide behind any of his fingers. Even so, he couldn’t mistake that ass.

The varsity co-ed uniform, even in its stained state, was recognizable enough, but with the long, flowing hair, the music, and those cakes, it just screamed ‘Madeline’. All the nicknames he’d given her regarding their previously just-slightly-more-than-a-ruler’s-length height difference had a whole, new meaning now if his eyes weren’t deceiving him. However, there was only one way to find out for sure, and he hoped, thinking about how her body should be working, he wouldn’t make her go deaf… if he already hadn’t.

“Madi?”

#g/t #my writing #sideline #sw #giant male #college #university #they're totally fwb's if you couldn't tell

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honey-bri-books · 5 years ago

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Inside Out: CasDeanSam

SPN Fan fic, fluff. All characters created by Eric Kripke. Depressing, but nothing too graphic, R-rated, etc.

****INSIDE****

Sam Winchester gets up from his bed, after having finally finished Season 2 of ‘Stranger Things’. He knew he was still behind, but to at least complete the second season was an accomplishment of sorts. He stretches and yawns, then realizes it’s been hours since he’s eaten. Sam was never one to eat in bed unless he was sick. Not ever since he had settled down on Dean’s bed, as they watched streaming from his lap top...and Sam had ended up getting bite marks all over his body from bed bugs, that lived off of Dean’s leftovers likely still stuck in between the sheets.

Sam heads to the kitchen. He’s about to fix himself a salad, when he notices something strange. He opens up the fridge and sees it’s still full of lunch meat, hotdogs, ground beef, eggs, bacon..the only thing missing from his recent trip to the store is all of the beer. Sam furrows his brows. He knows his brother has been cooped up in the bunker for the past week or so, his impala parked outside in the same spot all that time.

Sam goes to Dean’s bedroom door and knocks.

SAM: Dean? I was gonna make dinner. You hungry? He knocks again. He hears a thump against the other side of Dean’s bedroom door. Sam tries opening it and hears a grunt..

DEAN: I’m good, Sammy. Don’t make anything for me. Sam closes his eyes. Dean’s words sounded slurred together. He’s drunk again.. Without knocking again, he opens Dean’s door and looks inside.

It’s dark and at first he doesn’t see Dean until he can hear him coughing from the floor, by the bed. He has a beer bottle in his hand, several empty ones lying near him, by the bedside table. There is an empty bottle of wine on the desk.

SAM: Dean, maybe you should get some fresh air. Dean raises a hand to shield the light coming from the hallway, from his eyes.

DEAN: Nope’m’good..go away Sam..just leave. Dean sounds like the life has been beaten out of him. Sam steps to move inside the bedroom, but Dean suddenly throws his beer bottle at him. It crashes against the wall, as Sam pulls away. I said get the hell out...now!

Sam just looks at his brother, pathetically. Dean struggles to pull himself onto his bed, and then collapses back onto the floor. He looks as if he’s been crying. Just go away, please... he mutters weakly. Sam starts to protest, but then just quietly closes the door. He goes into the other room and pulls out his phone. He had to try again...

He doesn’t even bother going through his contacts, having the number he’s looking for memorized, hits ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear. Sam braces himself for his call to go directly to voice mail, Who am I kidding? He’ll never answer my call, again..

****OUTSIDE***

Castiel sits in the driver’s seat of the truck, the engine still running, his hands on the wheel. He closes his eyes...home.. How he ended up parked outside of the bunker, he still wasn’t sure. Castiel had just completed a hunt with several other angels.

There had been a demon pack torturing a group of kids leaving the library, after researching for a school project. The pack had been striking several other nearby locations, with an insane conviction that the best plan they could come up with in the darkest of times was to completely kill off the human race. A small group of angels had been alerted and were given a tip on the location of the next attack. Castiel and three other angels jumped the demons at the library, allowing the kids to get away.

Unfortunately, it had not been a clean sweep. There was a casualty, and one of the angels had died on Castiel’s watch. The victim’s partner had been there and was inconsolable. Heartbroken, he refused to let go of his befallen, the love of his life, when the others had tried to pull him away, so they could get rid of the vessel.

The surviving angel of the couple had one arm wrapped around the dead angel and the other brandishing his angel blade, daring the others to touch either of them. No! You can’t! I’m never letting him go. Get away from him. Leave us alone! I promised him I’d never let him go....

Now, Castiel finds himself back at the bunker, wanting to turn off the engine, but afraid to get out of the truck. It’s better this way...it couldn’t last forever. I shouldn’t be back here. Yet, the minutes go by, and Castiel turns off the engine of the truck. He leans back against the driver’s seat, trying to decide whether he should get out of the truck or just turn around....his phone starts to vibrate. Castiel picks it up and sees that Sam Winchester is attempting to reach him.

Cas waits for his phone to ignore the call and knows that Sam will end up leaving yet another message, begging him to come home. Telling him that he needs him...that Dean hasn’t been himself...Castiel turns off his phone. Would that be such a terrible thought? Dean acting unlike himself for once? No anger, no hate, no guilt? I had to leave him, I had to step out of his life, so that he could finally breathe, so that he could finally rest..Castiel’s body deflates, broken. His face is pained with longing. Dean...I only want you to be happy. That’s all I could ever need..

Castiel steps out of the car, still gripping his cell-phone in his right hand. He walks over to the top railing of the stair case leading to the front entrance. When he starts to descend the stairs, he stops. He’s felt nothing but invisible knives, all over his body, piercing his arms, his legs, throat, his heart. His head aches. What am I doing? he whispers.

Castiel sits down a moment, now dizzy. He had a chance to break free from the Winchesters, forever. After Sam had last put a GPS tracking device on his phone, Castiel had done the same thing with the Winchesters, when they were asleep. He could find out their location on any given day. He had intended it to be a way of finding them if they were ever in trouble and needed to get to each other....But what if it worked the opposite way? Castiel could always know where the Winchesters were, and could use that information to avoid them...he could save them from himself, for once.

With one last look towards the door, a look full of love and longing and despair, Castiel slowly stands up, turns around and heads back to the truck. So he could get as far away from the Winchesters as possible. And he would stay away. He would ignore the incessant pull, the torment inside of him...Castiel finally understood that he was never meant to belong to a family, that he was never meant to be loved, by anyone. He had been selfish and wanting his entire existence. It was time to finally let Dean go..to just fight, to hunt, to protect...to make himself even somewhat worthy of a love that he knew he didn’t deserve.

When Castiel gets to the top of the stairs he stops another moment and looks up at the stars. He makes a wish, for Sam, for Dean...he prays for forgiveness... from Jack, from Mary, from Kelly. I’ve failed all of you. Finally, he makes it back inside of the truck. Before pulling away, he allows himself to mourn, thinking that this was the end of everything. Castiel cries quietly. There is an excruciating pain inside of his chest. He feels sick. After awhile, Castiel takes a deep breath. Looking at the bunker for the final time, he whispers....I love you. I’ll never stop..

And then he drives away. Dean begs from the depths of his bedroom, inside of the bunker. Prays desperately.

DEAN praying: Cas...please come home...Castiel blocks out the prayer, holding tears in his eyes. He feels a thousand knives stabbing into his heart, as he drives away...increasing his speed whenever Dean manages to break through to him....Cas...

#Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #Bunker #Angels #Demons #Drinking #Depression #Prayers #Supernatural #SPN #Fan Fic #Separation #Running away #Martyr #Martydom #Dean Praying to Cas

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 5 years ago

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FINALLY birthed this thing. I’m officially a disaster with writing anything that involves conflict. Just like irl. :”) Anyway, yeah, there were 3 reasons why I did not finish this immediately about a month ago.

Első: See above.

Második: I had no idea what I wanted the last drop for Hawks to be before writing the rest in advance anyway, whoopsie~

Harmadik: I was.... reeeeeally not sure whether I want to publish this during pride month, seeing as I’m cis, and what kind of shit I put in this. (..... ok I’ve been thinking about this, and somebody just tell me if I’m plain projecting shit here. I might as well. Like, I always am, but it has usually got to do with characters being heavily #relatable in some way in strictly canon, which goes for everyone I write scenarios for. But now I’m thinking about whether there is something more to this, bc me headcanoning Shiggy as genderfluid and starting that shitty LawxOC body swap fic came around the same time two years ago, and now here’s Hawks, too. I’m onto you, me. I’m so onto me...)

Anyway... if you want the usual fluff, you might wanna sit this one out. (There’s some of it, but beware of everything else... it got p long (~6.5k), too, so you might wanna read it on a proper platform for txt: AO3 )

Big, BIG thanks @cutiesableye @acidmatze @waxwingedhawks and @mistystarshine for basically proofreading it and slapping a big green GO into my nervous face. Or being at it rn; regardless, I am thankful. Sssh, only dreams now.

I hope y’all be as uncomfortable reading the meat of this as I was writing it, whoops.

For how much he's surrounded by people normally -which he enjoys most of the time, really- Hawks prefers the silent rooftop right now. It shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, he'd need a lot more alone time in the first place… but he's supposed to be working right now. Be in the thick of this spying shit, collecting intel from social and environmental clues like nobody's business.

Returning to the room is not something he wants right now, though. The topic and the awkward atmosphere it brought are weighing on him, and he'd rather get over this before moving on with the sleuthing business. He's been perching over the weed-ridden parking lot for like half an hour already, though. Judging by what he can pick up, the League is back to their time killing activities, and not very concerned about his absence. He noticed Spinner checking on him some time back from the doorway, and that's what it was. He's low-key grateful that they would let him breathe instead of poking around some more, or tailing him. If it's something he's allowed to do all the time, it'll be a luxury he's plain going to cherish for as long as it lasts.

Another plus is… that his reasons to join have become more than just believable. Even if this bit of information was not something he wanted to share. Like, at all. Ever. It was perhaps naive to think nobody will ever find out in the first place, that it would stay a secret of the select few who trained and took care of him. But the ones aware of it now being the members of Japan's most infamous terrorist organization… is not reassuring.

Still… they are letting him be alone. It's… nice. Being seen as a person. It also hurts, though.

His feathers catch onto the vibrations of someone coming up the staircase again. The echoes tell of familiar size, weight and shapes… he knows who it will be. Being a wild card, he's probably coming on his own volition. The plastic smile is already in place, even though it has never worked on the guy- this was nice while it lasted.

The metal door opens with a lazy creak, then there's a soft thud, followed by slacking steps that stop right behind him. Dabi takes a swig from the beer can in his hand before speaking. "So… Peacock and Starling, huh."

"What about them, bacon face?" It's a funny feeling to hear someone say those… names, technically. It's equally funny to think that one of those is what he'd be known as if things go a little more his way. Even considered the title Phoenix for a moment, but that was too pretentious even for him, not to mention ill-fitting past being made of reds and yellows. As for the flashy Peacock… it's easy to see why the blatant joke got rejected off the bat. He'd look sick in iridescent blues and greens for sure, but that's all the reason he ever had to consider it. Those colors didn’t fit his basically pre-established brand… and nowadays he'd rather be invisible than catch even more eyes, anyway. And there's the almost, almost final Red Starling, which had the prototype of his current hero costume and everything…

He wanted to avoid predatory birds when given the task to choose a hero name, blatant secondary traits notwithstanding. They were beautiful creatures, yes… but hardly something reassuring and safe, killing for a living, full of pointy bits. Someone else probably wouldn't have batted an eye and had gone for the intimidation factor, but it was simply not what he had in mind.

A hawk… is a borderline case. It's among the smaller species and underwent some form of domestication, after all. They are not ideal for being kept as mere pets, though; they serve a purpose, instead.

They are used.

Used to hunt for sport or pest control, as he usually does. As he's supposed to right now.

So 'Hawks' was an afterthought, invoking the image of speed and danger. Which they insisted on, especially after… that. Smuggling the S at the end on the form was a last passive-aggressive jab after getting the okay, before letting go of who he used to, or wanted to be. It was fascinating to see the big shots make peace with it almost immediately, and regarding it as an improvement, even; 'makes it easier to associate with a swarm of feathers,' and 'more unique and identifiable,' they said. As if the original idea didn't accomplish both. It really was just… fascinating. The rest of these names, he banished to the stuffiest, darkest corners of his mind, as there were few good things, and even less pleasant memories attached to them. Until… today.

What has happened was simple and logical- the idea whether he'd choose another alias for underground activities came up. Mentioning them in the first place was an enormous mistake… and entertaining either as a viable option was even more so. Disturbing those relics reminded him of those buried memories and feelings, and all he can think of right now is the way Himiko's words rang in his ears barely half an hour ago.

Today, your smell reminds me of Big Sister.

Dabi lets out a sigh before getting to the meat of it. He spent the time Hawks had been gone on thinking himself, and there's a lot to unpack here. So he ought to take it step by step, lest he gets lost in the details. “Let me… get this story of yours straight."

… Great. This is exactly what he needs.

"It starts with… dirty, piss-poor little you getting caught up in a car accident and single handedly resolving it, right? Then, for doing something nice and selfless like that… you got sold off like a slab of fucking meat to the government.”

He blinks. "Hmm… not the most revolutionary take on it. I know you can do better." Claiming that the thought has never crossed his mind would be a lie. He just never let himself dwell on it. But now, this idiot is making him do exactly that. Or is trying to, at the very least. It certainly seems to be one of those convos. This… is turning out to be a major pain in the ass right away. Maybe he should reconsider provoking him this time around, it could backfire big time in the current mood of his.

“It is what happened, though, wasn’t it?” Dabi continues, slipping down to sit next to him, one leg dangling over the edge. “And once your apparently sub-par parents raked in the easy money, and washed their hands of you… you got stripped of everything.”

"Bold of you to assume that I had much to lose, bro. If you know about the accident, you also know where they picked me up from." Putting up a front aside, there was a rough edge to that 'everything' that makes Hawks want to run for the hills immediately. Nope, he is positively not in the mood for antagonistic banter at the moment. He wasn't really able to hide his upset and embarrassment over the situation, so Dabi must have found some twisted sense of enjoyment in pestering him about this specifically. Why can't this asshole just… shut up for once. He thought the villain incapable of it, but he does it so damn well with others around. Sticking with the lot might be a good idea, because solo Dabi is worse. He… he better filter out all the babbling before he starts thinking about bad shit or worse. It’s been a while since he had to take such measures, but he'll have to lull himself into a coma, and just… shut up. Inside out. And hope that Dabi gets bored of him.

“Doesn't change the point, does it, now. They started with any meaningful human contact you may have had… until they erased every last ounce of self," Comes the continuation while Hawks tries to block it out; "They denied you time, likes, attention, possibly even your basic fucking needs while moulding you into a perfect little cleanup machine that fears no death. Then tossed your dried-up skeleton into a roomy cage, filled with expensive junk to fill the void, as a semblance of compensation. Well thanks for fucking nothing, you sick fucks."

Hawks' eyes have locked onto a sunbathing lizard in the distance, but the idle animal is not quite enough of a distraction and his fingers twitch with the tightening grip over the wall's edge. Why does it sound as if Dabi was taking his side?

Shut up… don't pay attention.

He winces when Dabi pulls on the collar of his tracksuit to take a disgusted look at the label. "All the shit you wear was gifted from companies you played dress-up doll for, wasn't it… one fantastic billboard, you are. You own literally nothing else, do you? I'm sure that's the case, because, funny story… a newbie classmate of mine, some dump kid whose parents became new money, had always obscene amounts of cash on him… but after an initial shopping spree, he never could bring himself to buy a fucking thing. So we asked him about it. Turns out he simply felt like utter shit for spending any of it unless he had a good reason. I laughed then, but apparently, getting a bag of chips is a gargantuan issue for most people who grew up in poverty."

He leans closer, low words dripping like liquid venom in Hawks' ear. "You, too, feel like garbage every time you spend an ounce of money on something you can do without, don't you? Reminding yourself that there are dozens of that thing at home, lying untouched in your wardrobe that's the size of some families' entire house. Pray-tell Hawks, how many times did you sit over a full basket of online goods… the stuff of your dreams, probably some basic ass shit... only to back out at the last second, hmm?"

Shut up.

Dabi's eyes slide to the tense hands possibly attempting to tear the crumbling edge off the worn wall. A second later, he distances himself again, stirring the can with lazy, circular motions. "I don't even want to imagine what it feels like. Never spent a fucking dime on anything but charities, I fancy. And the odd bottle of booze, fuck or junk food… Are those chicken bits the only thing you're allowed to get? Tch.”

“What a fucking luxury, being allowed to treat yourself to a bucket every other week, when your disgusting training diet has been set in stone three months in advance." It sounds like a personal addendum, but not a single word in that sentence escapes the overbearing sarcasm and condescension.

A still ticking cogwheel in the hero's head wonders why Dabi knows of the standard diet thing he has to undergo at least twice a year being three months long, and how he could possibly know that he's come to hate half of the dishes over the years. The overwhelming majority of said cogs have long come to a halt, however, screeching SHUT UP. He's not sure who or what that message is directed to anymore. Probably both of them.

Dabi’s waltzing wrist comes to a halt, soon followed by the whirling liquid in the can; it's a minute break, the kind that's just enough to make conversations awkward. In fact, the silence is too big for Hawks to handle- there’s no white noise to drown out and it makes not thinking, not paying attention unbearably hard. The lizard disappears under the cracked asphalt, leaving him with nothing.

“With how long it took you to respond to Shigaraki, they also stripped you of your name. And what I got from the exchange with Toga… is that the same goes for your body, too.”

A shiver runs down Hawks’ back and wings over the addition, kicking the machine brain back in full order despite his best efforts. Dabi takes a big swig of beer and lets out a sigh, resulting in another ill-placed pause. It gives Hawks time to think, goddammit, and he thinks too fast, too hard, about everything.

“While you were moping up here, I've come to realize why you always seem to be so hilariously desperate to one-up me in any given way… it’s because you actually are grasping for straws. You have no control whatsoever, over anything. None." There’s a somber undertone to his voice. The can, along with the remaining sloshes of beer, are flung down to the concrete wasteland and land with a sad, high pitched clank. "My sister used to be like this… people like you don’t dare to ask why things happen. You will believe you’d done something wrong to deserve it all… maybe see yourselves as a necessary sacrifice. Did they ask you to be a martyr, or did you decide so yourself, bird brain? Not that it matters… because that’s exactly what your bosses want and they'd keep on twisting your arms until they get there… but I bet they did. They didn't ask whether you actually wanted it, though… or ask anyone else, about anything, for that matter."

He reaches over Hawks' vaguely trembling shoulders for the jaw, forcing his face out of hiding. The grip turns gentler as the man's head turns in his general direction, though he's refusing to make eye contact. Dabi keeps him there like that for a while, dissecting him with icy, blue scalpels.

"Gentle like a dove… you'd have flipped the fuck out and been talking shit ever since I opened my mouth any other day. Is this the defense mechanism you developed for these situations?" There's some twitches to the corner of the mouth, but the other remains unresponsive. Heaving another, mildly annoyed sigh, he pries the hero off the crumbling wall with a disgruntled huff and turns to face him. Once there’s some space to work with, he tilts the head in his grasp to the left, to the right… no resistance. "To see you like this is creepy as all hell, birdie… do you even register what I'm saying anymore? Or is ignoring me the goal? Hmm?"

He scoffs at the glazed eyes, then shakes his head. "I'd imagine you met some pigs high up on the food chain soon after the stunt… those monsters can do anything they want. Then buy silence from pocket change." He starts caressing the other's face as the trembling turns more and more into shaking. "Isolated, innocent eye candy kid at their mercy…… I can only imagine what they’d do to a sweet little plaything like you."

A visceral reaction makes Hawks' stomach convulse, threatening to empty itself, and the muscles in the rest of his body follow suit. Unwanted scraps of memories, all the blurred scenes, images and feelings he didn't quite manage to erase flare up in his mind. And even though his entire being is revolting against being reminded of hugs that felt off by a mere margin, of touches that were always, always distinctively soft and slimy, and things sometimes even worse, and much worse… the sole thing that betrays his near perfect neutral expression is a pair of clenched jaws. What concerns him even more than any of this, however, is the fact that his tear ducts have been burning up for some unknown time, and...

… too late. There’s already a droplet of water sitting on the thumb Dabi lifted up a second ago.

The tear gets reduced to nothing between the pensive swipe of two fingers as he lets go of him. “Thought so…”

A sliver… a handful of cells, some unidentifiable part of Hawks is thankful that Dabi doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking right now, glaring somewhere distant both past the hero and his own damp hand.

The villain's eyes come back into focus soon enough. There's still… one more thing. "Then you started to grow… and they decided to focus on function over form, since your baby face would be just as marketable with a scruff. Becoming popular and following a strict schedule makes it near impossible for creeps to do as they please, with all the watchful eyes dissecting your every move… so you live on a leash instead. An accessory to show off to guests… and still shiny, new weapon to flashily beat up people with." He cocks his head. "And you loathe mindless violence."

On one hand comes the relief that the previous topic has been dropped as unceremoniously as possible, and he gets a moment to breathe and stop shaking like a leaf. On the other…

They are used. Used to hunt pests…

Having less than no time for himself, the daily drill of regular heroing and the overwhelming amount of paperwork the job comes with are things he can deal or cope with… It’s fighting, hurting and confronting other people he loathes the most, even if he'll ram heads with the bigger fish to ensure a more stable framework for everyone to live in. For… others to live in.

Forcing himself into a group of known murderers and the deception this comes with is just the icing on the rotten cake. God, all these fucking lies, he cannot look into the mirror anymore for being overcome with sheer disgust. And now he's stuck with it until the source of all Noumu can be located, too. Why can’t things be like a shitty cops and robbers chase and, just… easy? Simple? Is it really that much to ask for?

But what makes it unnerving is to know that Dabi’s right, always fucking right. About people, what a living nightmare being a hero is once one looks past the glitter covers, and pretty much everything else. But most importantly, he's right about him. He hates being predictable at all, not to mention being read with confidence, and right now he feels as naked as an open book with covers ripped clean off.

He can feel more tears break free, and his fingers scrape over the rough concrete, letting the bumps and glass shards cut a fingertip or two open. It's frustrating. Every single time they happen to make contact… Dabi either makes a good point or manages to get the upper hand in the most inane, little ways, and it’s so… frustrating.

He can’t keep bottling it all up forever, but what is he supposed to do about these feelings?

“What I'm not sure about… is what exactly they are thinking this time.” There’s a thoughtful pause before the continuation; every last tendon in the blonde’s body tenses up. “Are they actually this desperate to get us for good… or is it you they want to get rid of that bad?”

For a moment that seems like an eternity, Hawks feels… absolutely nothing. Nothing but the piercing glare of the very sky above them, staring straight through the villain's eyes. “Psycho girl is right… you really have no idea how to say no.”

Why now… Hawks can't tell. But hearing the same shit he's thinking about for the millionth time makes something crack. Click. Snap. And next thing he knows, he’s already tackled Dabi to the ground and is clenching his fists into his coat; the man himself doesn’t look too surprised over the turn of events, which drives him even madder.

“Every,” his voice shakes with bubbling anger and is lower and gravelier than his normal, but it will do. Hawks pulls on the leather hard enough to lift the other before slamming him back onto the grey concrete--- “Every” --- over--- “single” --- and over--- “aspect” --- and over, “of you,” and over, “drives me up… the fucking wall,” and over… “any time you open your godforsaken MOUTH,” this time, he goes a little over the top, as the big yank is followed by a pointed knock upon Dabi’s head meeting the ground and his lungs flatten under the pressure of fists, but Hawks is not in the mindset to give a flying fuck about the minor inconveniences of the villain at the moment. Fucker has dug this grave himself, so he better lie in it. "how the everloving fuck... How…! How can you possibly know me more than I do?! TELL ME!!” He asks with an ever growing voice that borders screaming by now, all while shaking the man relentlessly.

He's about to pull and slam him down again when Dabi's hands grab onto his arms just below the wrist. Maybe it's that he did not expect it, but the grip definitely stings a little. As fragile as Dabi is, he thought those scrawny arms less powerful, but apparently what does he know? Still angry, he tears one hand free while shooting a glare at the villain.

There's a trail of blood flowing down his cheek around where Hawks' fist rubbed against at the time of the yank. Dabi blinks once, leaving his left eye with an odd pink texture as his lid smears the leaking red fluid all over it. Not too surprisingly, his face remains as unreadable as a mannequin's, and eyes as cold as that of a taxidermy specimen. Hawks hates looking at him when they are like this, which is most of the time. "Careful, little bird… you're tearing at the seams. Don't want to end up like this, do you?”

That calm voice works like just another taunt, making the hero want to beat him to a pulp, or at the very least, continue where he's just left off with flattening him into the concrete. At the same time… hesitation wedges his joints to a halt. No… No, he doesn’t want to end up ‘like this,’ whatever it may have been to drive Dabi into burning himself alive on a daily basis.

And he notices. Of course he does. Hawks could swear to see his lips curve, but it may just be the angle.

“Fucked-up kids know how to read others pretty well, don’t you think?”

Hawks’ still short breath hitches and he freezes upon feeling a hand, the very same he just shook off, slide over his hips, ice cold on his heated skin even through the fabric of a t-shirt. There's no real intent behind it; in fact, it feels like a doctor's indifferent, calculated touch. Somehow, that makes it even worse. "… didn't even have the decency to start stuffing you with testosterone from the get-go, huh?"

Another statement that sounds more like a personal note than anything else, and it makes Hawks’ skin crawl.

“Well I can’t read you for shit! Congratulations!!!” He barks, slapping the intrusive limb away. “For starters, what was this supposed to be about, hell, why the fuck did you even come up here?! Just to gloat about it into my face? Or do you want to make fun of me for not being able to decide whether I’d rather be a cheeky bitch or the insufferable prick I am today?!”

There’s tears streaming down his face again, but he couldn’t care less. It hurts like all hell… especially remembering full well how fucking much waking up from what was supposed to be nothing more than an open break surgery hurt- there was near nothing to remove, for fuck's sake. But claiming not to enjoy at least some aspects of what being a man brought would be just more lies on the throne built on them.

Mentioning his interest in IT and mechanics to strangers is not criticised or made fun of, not anymore. Neither is his tendency to run ahead of others in pretty much every situation. Instead of second guessing, people default to respecting and listening to what he says on any given topic in general, and he stopped doubting himself, too. The circumstances were a special kind of fucked-up for sure… but he also ended up having fewer weak spots than almost everyone else, which did come handy a couple of times. The hormones he received made him taller than he ever could have grown realistically, too. And rejecting fans is easier as most women- and most of them are women,- know basic fucking etiquette.

But he also wants cheesy tees with cats and birds and flowers that he never gets to sponsor. Cuter shoes that are still comfy. Some eyeshadow every now and then. Wear the prettiest blues and greens, and maybe… maybe a nice dress.

"… You are pissed for the same reason I am.”

By the time Hawks has processed the sentence, he is the one being pressed into the roof, with one wing stuck awkwardly underneath him. For a dreadful moment he breaks into cold sweat, because this also means that Dabi is between his legs, and--- fuck, this is the last fucking position he wants to find himself in, especially right fucking now. He doesn’t get to break out in panic, however, because the villain is busy strangling him against the lukewarm ground. It’s his turn to grab onto the other’s arms as he wheezes for some air. He needs to calm the fuck down somehow, otherwise he won’t be able to use his feathers---

“Looking at you… is like staring at a distorted mirror image at fucking funland.” Hawks cracks his eyes open, seeing Dabi stare right back at him. It's as if someone put goddamn transparency over the villain to make the blinding blue behind him visible. He’d blame cold eyes in general, but he doesn’t find Twice’s even lighter ones nearly this creepy when Dabi’s like this. His burn with intensity rivaling All Might and Endeavor, which have always made him uneasy.

“What a nice pair of custom-made patchwork monstrosities we are…” His voice delves into a hiss as the grip tightens over the hero’s neck. “… makes me sick to my stomach."

Hawks coughs under the weight on his throat. He manages to get some air in and think clearly enough to turn back to logical thinking; if Dabi wanted to go for the kill, he’d be toast by now. Motherfucker is just toying with him for the hell of it, isn’t he? He flexes his wings against the rough concrete and flips the two of them back over to where they started.

“Would you stop playing games, you *cough* sick fuck?!” he wheezes, all out of breath.

"Maybe you’re the one who should stop dicking around, bird brain!"

His next protest gets cut short when Dabi headbutts him in the temples. It feels half-hearted, but gets him to shut up for a moment nonetheless, which is all that the other needs.

"The fuck did you scrape us up from the floor for, HUH?! You had ONE JOB, and you could have been done with it just like that… but instead...!! INSTEAD you played nurse and started to GET ALL COMFORTABLE AND SHIT!” The villain’s voice is basically rolling like thunder over the forsaken plot.

Hawks’ angry and pained grimace twitches under his hand- he’s seen Dabi smug, and aloof, and crazed, but not… angry. Not to mention angry with him, specifically. And, once again, it’s one of those little, irritating, miniscule things that are… true. He didn’t get an order to stick around and follow the lead to the Noumu until like a week later, so it was all unnecessary and ended up being even more work and trouble than it was worth.

He didn’t have to help when he found all of them dying, bleeding and broken.

He also didn’t have to start talking to Compress and Twice and Giran, then all the rest as they warmed up to him and came to.

He wasn’t supposed to lie about their initial status, he didn’t have to keep covering for them after they were all walking and doing all right, after the decent person in him had already been satisfied.

And he definitely never meant to get… attached.

A pull on his tracksuit wakes him from the shock, just as Dabi continues screaming at him head-on. “And YET, there still isn't anything YOU want from us?! REALLY?!! Do you want to be a puppet for the rest of your life, idiot?!"

Well… Hawks had been called names before. He never thought that being called a ‘puppet’ would offend him this much, but that... that certainly just did it.

“NO, I DON’T!” He screams back at him, voice swaying all over the place.

"CAN'T HEAR YOU, BITCH!!"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT 'o!!” Whatever air's still in Hawks' lungs gets stuck inside as a wave of what’s probably fear washes over him upon hearing his own, distorted voice crack and echo in the empty parking lot. Realizing just how much he's straining his voice, a sudden knot manifests in his stomach that folds his rage into a small, jittery, awkward package.

“Ah… I,” It takes so much effort to squeeze out a single thing, what--- why is he embarrassed? “I don’t---”

The next word gets stuck somewhere between his thoughts and throat when the same cold hand from before leaves a little pat on his head.

"See? Wasn't that fucking hard, was it now." It combs Hawks' hair back, staples getting stuck here and there on the fragile strands. There’s nothing methodical about it this time; the entire gesture is just… gentle. "Good job, chicken."

Just like that… all that rage, despair and helplessness, along with the last confusing bundle of emotions, evaporates out of the blue, leaving Hawks empty and tired, somewhat nervous, and maybe a little… relieved. It takes him a bit to be able to think of anything at all, god knows how much time passes while he blinks blankly in front of him. It takes a rugged sigh from Dabi underneath him to phase back into reality; the scarred hand has long disappeared, and is tucked behind the villain’s head along with the other as he’s gazing at the passing clouds. The first coherent thought that crosses Hawks’ head is a fully formed fact- what kind, and with what purpose, he doesn't know or begin to understand… but this was… a test, or rather, a lecture.

A very… very crudely executed lecture.

Hawks sniffs with a stuffy nose. Fucking… fucking fucker. “… you are an asshole through and though, aren’t you?” And now he’s hoarse, too. Wonderful.

There’s a shrug… well, as much of a shrug it can be from someone in Dabi’s position. “I don’t believe it’s ever been up for debate.”

He sounds so smug, it's just so… ugh. The hero squishes his face with a palm in frustration before crawling off him at last. The annoyed grunt in response is all he needs right now. "Are you done being a nuisance, or do you wanna egg me on some more?"

There's a rare chuckle. "Already making bird puns…? Nah, little bird. Getting hell-and-back pissed is exhausting as fuck. You won't be any more fun today."

With that, Dabi scrambles onto his elbows, then sits back up. He gives a quick massage to his previously flattened nose before rubbing the back of his head; there’s a number of fully formed lumps already. Feathers isn’t very gentle when riled up… at least the spot’s not bleeding. He'll need to put some painkillers to work, though. "Still… the manic look suits you well. I'm getting giddy just thinking about your bosses' reactions upon seeing you like that." In a move that is more or less successful, he licks a finger to rub the trail of rust off his cheek.

Hawks wrinkles his nose upon seeing a rather genuine looking smile on the other’s face. “Please. Noone in their right mind is in my face like you are all the damn time… at least not with the intent of driving me batshit only to make me murder them. You’re a freak case and should not be accounted for.” He sighs, resting his head on an arm- there really is no willpower left in him to do anything for the rest of the day. There better be no trouble on his late evening patrol, or so help him. Or help it, because there's no guarantee he won't snap back to this awkward beat-to-a-pulp mode if confronted with a no-name villain.

After some fidgeting, Dabi produces something from a pocket… something that looks very suspiciously like a worn blunt. “It’s because they don’t have to, dumbass… you are edging towards a nervous breakdown at any given time. Anyway, look… you are no doubt seen as an invaluable asset… but are worth so much more still. Give yourself some credit." Hawks peers back at him just as the conspicuous thing is lit over a wrist which gets shaken after, much like one would put out a match. There’s a tentative draw, followed by another.

“What I want to say is… they are terrified of you, birdie. If not for the danger of exposing their disgusting practices, it's because they fear that their blue ribbon pet won't return from a hunt… for one reason or another. And, just for the record,” He breathes, offering the roll to him; “I'll gladly hold you back for a good scare."

Following a vacant stare and a blink, he takes it. It’s not as if this quite tolerable, for-the-hell-of-it mood of Dabi’s was new, but… he was seriously considering to strangle the guy a minute ago. When exactly did they return to casual banter? Hell if he remembers, or has noticed at all. God… this whole thing has him rattled real good. Hopefully a nap will get him back into the usual pace of things.

“I sure hope not everyone blows their sugarbird pocket money on beer and weed like you do,” The blonde muses once he can feel a different kind of fatigue set in, reaching the blunt back to Dabi. Hypocritical? Maybe. Won't stop him from nagging others for the same shit, though. Comes with the job.

“Well, Compress replaced the crumpled hat… and Tomura decided to save up for a new handheld,” Dabi muses, placing the smoke into the corner of his mouth. "It'll go via Giran, of course. After seeing the taxes on that shit, I can't even blame him."

Can’t help but smile at that. “You are all fucking hopeless.”

A hum is all he gets as a reply.

After a while of comfortable silence, the remains of the roll get snuffed out on the ground. Blinking past Dabi, Hawks can see the sun is soon to set. Fucked like two hours just sitting out here, didn’t he. The Commission better not expect much from today’s endeavor… cannot exactly tell them that he was getting high on the rooftop with the flame villain for a good portion of it, the only villainous topic being creepy fat cats and their own shortcomings. Or that his possibly biggest secret slipped, although they wouldn't give a rat's ass about that. Yyyeah… it’s best to bullshit it.

“Humor me for another minute of real talk, will you, chicken?”

Dabi’s voice drags him back to reality again, only to realize that the light has already turned into a warm yellow. If his bones… or rather joins popped now, he’d feel like the embodiment of a nice little bonfire under the sun. Huh. Guess the stuff was of the better quality to make him think of weird similes and turn his sense of time whack. What was he--- oh, right. He should answer.

“… cannot promise I'll be able to pay attention or remember any of it, but do your best, crouton.” There’s a mild prickly sensation in his wings and his brain feels like marshmallows. If only he could always be so calm.

“Don’t bullshit me, you barely had a whiff." The dirty remains of weed are flung over the roof in annoyance.

He can feel a goofy smile creep onto his face- it's nice to be the source of frustration for once. Maybe all he needs to do is be honest more often. "Second hand smoking goes a long way, bruh."

The initial answer is an exasperated sigh. "Shut it… Anyway, you should cut the sweet chirping and tweeting, birdie. No matter what you do, people take advantage of your position. You know this better than anyone else. So squawk and screech to your heart's content, if that's what you need… and if barking won’t help, get down to biting.” Having said that, he stops surveying the cracked parking lot under the golden sky, and turns back to Hawks.

He forgets to breathe for a second. Good lord… those eyes glow as if they were illuminated by blue fire from inside, and the contrast with the sunset is just… well, literally breathtaking, he supposes. This is among the few times when they don’t creep him out- quite the contrary, in fact. They still feel like X-rays, though. “I guess it really doesn’t matter… by the way, real talk question: can you fucking read minds?”

Not that he expected anything else, but a smug grin appears on the villain’s face. “Maybe~”

“Careful, man. Your pants are sizzling.”

Lo and behold, another rare chuckle. Despite being under the influence of drugs, (or maybe because of that?) Hawks is on a fucking roll.

He can't keep his eyes off those blue ones even once Dabi decides to stare back at him. “Jokes aside… suppose there really is an idiot like me out there, and they get up close and personal… put those clipped talons to work and gouge their fucking eyes out. You have all the means to tear them limb from limb… go all out, who gives a fuck. These are the same kind of people who shit on wild animals from beyond a cage, but watch them run with tail between legs upon realizing that the gates are wide open. And even if you weren't ready to dirty your hands or feathers like that…"

He lifts a pointing finger and rests the tip on the hero’s nose. "One word of yours… and we'll make sure it's the last day they touched anyone. Understand?"

Really, all he can manage to that is a weak, sheepish smile. “… thanks,” he breathes, not knowing what else to say. He should be a thousand times more alarmed over basically being told that someone's ready to kill for him, and not… well, flattered? Touched? Especially since he knows Dabi means it, and so would the rest of them.

“Great,” the other grunts while getting on his feet, and leaning just a little bit on Hawks’ head while doing so. What a turd. Latter’s about to get his stiff legs working as well, but once the vague aching starts subduing, he can see Dabi stop in the doorway and put a hand on his hip. “… those filthy gremlins have been spying on us.”

Indeed… someone brought the hero’s scantily loaded bag to the top of the staircase and left it there.

“In that case,” turns Dabi around, flinging said bag over to Hawks in the same breath, “go straight the fuck home and get yourself presentable, you overgrown turkey. Might wanna decide on the new alias by the next time I call, too. You already know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, dragging the strap over his head.

Between the echo of boots, there’s a distorted farewell: “See ya, little star.”

Hawks stops in his tracks. He looks over to the empty entrance, and the metal door wide open. The sound of footsteps has faded into barely more than creepy sounds in an abandoned building- if not for his feathers, he wouldn’t even know that six other people are under the roof he’s standing on. Spirits and shadows haunting an old convenience store like many others.

He's nothing more than another ghost out here, and yet… he's never felt so real.

---

No matter what he chooses, Dabi will just stick to 'fancy chicken.' Also, I’m so fucking proud of that Red Starling. Not only is it obscure astronomy bullshit (much like the title of this thing), but it would be a nifty alternative to Hawks; just hit up a video on a flock (or, as I just learned, murmuration) of starlings. Shit’s cray.

#dabi #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #DabiHawks #not necessarily shippy but you can certainly read it that way #Kate writes

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ehyeh-joshua · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen-Star, 1st chapter.

As promised yesterday, the first draft of the 1st chapter of what will be the only novel planned to take place on Earth during the post-Flood era and before we go to the stars. I am after all, a firm believer that we cannot stay in the cradle forever, my only concern is if He returns before we depart...

Bonus internet points for correctly figuring out the final sentence; apologies for the poor MS paint drawing, but it is close enough. This first draft is 3 pages of A4. Ish.

“What am I looking at, Commissar.”

“We don't know either, General.”

The two men stood above the large crater; the cause of the crater, this thing – thing? Yes, thing, whatever it is – laid out at the bottom crater it's impact had left. More than five metres tall, yet vaguely humanoid according to the team establishing the outline of the otherwise invisible, but very, very present, thing; there was a man stood on top, carefully trying to assess the height off the ground. Other soldiers were taking photographs and assembling a shelter to preserve the site as best they can; it was winter.

One man was here to represent the Party, the other the military; usually they argued, but for once, they were united; neither of them knew what lay before them.

“What do we know?”

“The ballistics squad calculate the invisible structure is approximately eight thousand kilograms, and hit the ground at in excess of a thousand miles per hour, leaving this very sizeable crater. The local populace have been told it is a new German bomb, and been evacuated. Our artillery spotters report that they watched the German artillery fire, one particular shell detonated prematurely, while still airborne, and suddenly a huge explosion occurred on impact with the ground.”

The Commissar paused, thinking how he would go about explaining this in debrief. “I don't know what to think, General. I would think we were mad were it not for the fact I am here, looking at this strange occurrence.”

The General's face soured. What travels at over a thousand miles per hour? Or can turn itself invisible for that matter. But then an even darker thought entered his mind. “Let's get the essentials out of the way – you said an explosion? I hope you mean the impact, or is it worse, a missile of some kind? Is it still armed? Is it dangerous?”

The Commissar shrugged. “We do not know.”

“What do we know!” The General grew frustrated, and picked up a rock, and threw it to vent his annoyance a bit; he had expected it to simply hit the ground, but it did not. Instead, quite bemused, he watched a shimmer of light appear, slow down the rock, and it dropped harmlessly, and gently, to the ground. The ground shook, as another impact mark appeared next to the markings that indicated an arm-like structure; the thing became visible, revealing it was getting up, while the man on it's chest sub-structure had only just jumped to safety in time, having felt it move beneath him moments before. It took a moment to survey it's surroundings, before fixing it's... eyes? maybe? upon the General. It stood silently, watching. Waiting. The crowd of Russians stepped back as the thing looked at the ground, lifted a leg into the air; a thruster assembly tried to fire, but it was damaged, and merely spluttered.

The General tried to see if there was damage from the impact, but apart from having a substantial coat of rocks and earth, the overall structure of the thing appeared completely undamaged from it's impact. While he was busy looking over the leg with the damaged thruster, the thing looked back at the General. By now, the armour he had called in on the way over had arrived; the thing noted their presence, a few hundred tanks, but seemed as uncaring as before. Either it didn't know what was arrayed against it, or it did, and it did not care. The General gulped as he completed looking, and concluded that the thing's armour was entirely undamaged from hitting the ground at such high speed; even if all his tanks hit just the right spot they probably couldn't even dent it. And with it's mass distribution, they might not even be able to knock it over if it crouched; for something as immense as it was, it was highly agile.

Sound emanated from the thing; language perhaps? But none of the Humans observing knew; the sounds it made were not Russian, or English, or German... The General looked around at his soldiers, and as none of them tried to translate, he was forced to conclude it wasn't any modern language. Not for the first time, the thought occurred to him that it probably wasn't Human in origin anyway, and this seemed to reinforce that disturbing notion. All the General could do, was hope this was some strange dream, and that he'd wake up soon, but deep down, he knew he wasn't dreaming.

A heavy transport truck arrived, reminding the General of his duty; the General pointed at the vehicle. The thing stared back at him. Challenging him? No, why would it need to challenge him...

A tank fired a warning shot just above it's head, interpreting the staring as hostile; the thing didn't even try to evade, for the shell faced the same fate as the rock the General had thrown earlier, except this time, the thing caught it, and looked at it, it's eyes rotating as it analysed the shell. Then the thing merely raised an arm to the sky, and a volley of green-coloured lightning, several inches thick, shot upwards, rending the air as it travelled. The general returned to his earlier thought; it did know, and it was incomprehensibly superior. It could turn invisible at will, and wielded pure energy as it's weapons, and normally it could presumably fly, basically impervious to attack with it's ability to decelerate incoming armament and withstand the immense collision forces it had done...

But how did it even get brought down then? The General thought it through for a moment; the Germans just got lucky, that's all. Maybe it hadn't thought to look for incoming shells while it was invisible? The odds of being hit would be exceedingly low after all...

No matter, back to the task at hand. The thing was now up and walking, it had to be contained before word of this spread. He pointed again, this time one of his men got in the back; maybe it would follow the example? It seemed to work, for the thing walked, and sat in the truck, making a noise that reminded the General of humming somehow. The General got in the truck, and the vehicle departed for Leningrad, far to the north.

The journey was slow thanks to the transport, but uneventful. The General kept silent, thinking about the situation over and over again. Three hours ago, he had been directing what he hoped would be the final assault in Stalingrad upon the Germans; two hours ago, he was told of unconfirmed reports of a low-altitude sonic boom, and then a huge explosion. An hour ago they found the crater, and now he found himself thinking about the strange thing still making that strange, low level vibration that you felt as much as heard. What was it? Some strange Nazi weapon? Or an American device? Perhaps a time-traveller from the future? Or what if it was something else altogether...

The General decided that was most likely, but all he knew for sure was this thing was not hostile – surely if it was, with the power it displayed earlier it could wipe them out. Why wait? Why give them a display? And why comply with the request to get in the transport; it doesn't know where they are going, how can it? But what if it can...

He thought back to staring into those red... eyes? They weren't like any eyes he had seen before, but somehow, what else could they have been. While the whole visage was menacing – the segmented plate, lizard-scale patterned, non-reflective dark armour, the weaponry, the immense power it possessed, the silence – the eyes were the most menacing. Unblinking, save for momentary adjustments of some kind; somehow, you felt like it wasn't just seeing the light you reflected.

Perhaps... Perhaps this was a very, very bad idea.

“Commissar, have arrangements made to secure Pitomik, strictest possible security, and bring in the right people to analyse this thing. We'll have to change plans.”

“Certainly General.”

The truck pulled into the recently recaptured airfield, reversed up to a warehouse that had been cleared for the situation – temporarily, until a more permanent location could be established, and research staff brought in, but for now it would do – and the thing dismounted, and headed inside, sat down, and began to assess the repairs necessary for the damaged thruster. Seconds later, the General observed as it began to look around the now evacuated airfield for any parts it could repurpose.

Several hours passed, as the thing ransacked disabled fighters, and assembled what looked to the General as the components of a hang-glider, obtaining a Junkers Jumo 213 for propulsion for the craft; it carried the near-tonne engine in a single three-clawed hand, seemingly without difficulty. Satisfied with the layout of the rudimentary aircraft, the thing observed it's work. The General watched as the eyes rotated – magnification, perhaps? - and a light appeared and then shifted through the EM spectrum out of visible light, and it now began scrutinising it's creation, using it's energy weapons as welding tools to seal every part of the structure.

By now, the research staff arrived, and began monitoring it – it glanced at them, before returning to it's task. The scientists worked very quickly to try to obtain as much information as they could, but they quickly concluded very little beyond the General's realisation that this thing clearly was far too advanced to be Human in origin, and speculation led to argument. A heated argument, between those advocating that this thing was product of an immensely advanced ancient Human society, and those saying it was alien; they all agreed that it's capabilities were far in excess of any known technology.

At nightfall, it looked up, paused for a moment, before standing, walking away, then returning, pulling an empty oil barrel to just inside the entrance, filled with slow burning combustible material, which it fired it's weapons on and lit, before looking at the crowd of spectators, fixing it's red eyes on them for a few seconds as they rotated around, before returning to it's project.

The Humans for their part, crowded around the barrel, realising just how cold it was getting; snow was starting to fall, and soon tools and research equipment all around the airfield were downed as people joined the fire. The General organised a guard detail, but otherwise allowed the assembly.

It was a curious moment the General noticed, that once every person on site had assembled by the fire, or at least within audible range, that the thing stirred, with it's aircraft nearing completion, though still not quite finished to the thing's standards. The room fell silent as it stood up to full height, towering above them, as high as the roof of the warehouse in fact; it's deep red EM receptors – that they were eyes of a kind had indeed been established, certainly able to read at least radio, visible light, infrared and UV bands, as those had been tested – stared down at them. It's arm moved out, and a torrent of energy, less powerful than the earlier blast, shot at a wall, and it carved/scorched what seemed to be seven pictures into the wall:

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polandspringz · 6 years ago

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12 for your hunters

Prompt: Who hurt you?

I decided to write from the perspective of Rat King Cora for this one! This is going to be part 1 of a 3 for a series examining Rattul’s character arc and her relationship with Cora. Enjoy!

Nothing was supposed to come of it. It had been many moons since we had taken over this land, and only a few less since I had been split from our host and granted my own life and space to rule in the kingdom. I remembered being in the throne room for the first time, a vibrating cluster not yet fully formed, standing side by side with brothers and sisters who were all reminded of the same thing.

This gift, it could be stripped away at anytime.

Once a day had passed and the multitude of bodies had merged into one solid beast, we were assigned a zone and told a list of instructions, and sent on our way. We were only to return for reports or in cases when the Emperor requested our council, and even then, we would return as a group, and not alone.

Perhaps that was the Emperor’s first mistake.

When I was summoned to the castle, the letter outlining that my presence was for a private meeting and this was explicitly not a council meeting, I had to admit to myself that I felt something. Like an invisible hand was brushing up my back, bristling my fur as my claws tried not to crumple the summons in my hands. We had never been told about something like this, but it had been implied.

I had my servants dress me in my finest robe but pick out my simplest crown. There was protocol for entering the castle, and we all knew that even with our status, it would be an insult if we tried to look better than the Emperor. Either way, humbling myself probably wouldn’t save me, but it might make my end swift and painless.

When I was brought to the capital and guided inside the Emperor’s private chamber, you could imagine the thoughts that were swirling through my head. He had always been a showy, brazen rat, and I had entertained the various public ways of turning me into a demonstration for the public, but perhaps he didn’t want his reputation tarnished too much. I passed through a solid, gold, glossy door into a dark green room same thing here decorated in styles stolen from Arabia, some incense floating about as the Emperor sat on his canopy bed, a long smoking pipe wafting in the air with sweet scent of the cheese.

Luckily for me, instead of my demise, me waited for the door to lock before launching into a discussion of an important assignment. There was a marine biology lab to the east of the city, built into an old dock that had since become run-down and decrepit from the funding that was lost when the government was overthrown and it being a hot-spot for gang crime. Apparently, there were still scientists there, and the Emperor wanted to launch an investigation into whether other creatures could become like us.

“This is confidential, you understand? I’m entrusting you to this because you were the first of those who split from me. You are the most like me, so I know you won’t cross me. Well, none of you would, but I know you would never.”

Perhaps I would’ve been elated at my life being spared if it weren’t for those words. I finished up the meeting and promptly went to the docks, seeing no real need for negotiation as the Emperor owned everything. The place was disgusting, even for somewhere in Rat City, and I figured once the scientists inside saw me they would comply or else I would present my more monstrous form. What I was not prepared for, was for a short woman with a wispy brown bob and piercing light eyes to throw her hand in front of me and demand I leave.

“You’re trespassing,” was all she said, one hand inside the pocket of her white lab coat as at least ten other male scientists cowered behind her. Frustrated, I decided to whip out my snarling teeth and hunch my back, hovering over her as I dripped saliva and let my eyes turn black.

“You will listen to us or we will tear you limb from limb.”

She didn’t seem fazed, “I’ve dealt with plenty of your kind before, I’m not afraid to do it again. Now, close your mouth.”

I blinked back to normal as she bopped me in the nose with her palm, causing my maw to snap shut before she shoved both hands into the pockets and stared up at me, “Now, are you able to discuss with us like a good boy or am I going to have to throw you out?”

The human had me return with a sack of gold to compensate her facility for the research. There had always been an unspoken understanding between the Emperor and the rest of us and that our presence alone would be enough to get the humans to comply, and if not, we could use force. Trading a bundle of coin that resembled the hue of cheese but had no taste seemed foolish and beneath what we were capable of, but the human wouldn’t budge without it and I feared what the Emperor would have done if I had returned with news that I had sat at a crummy negotiation table for hours and still had no solution instead of just bulldozing the woman.

I was given a writ that she signed granting me permission into the lab for checks whenever I wanted to, and promised that she would keep me updated on the progress. I left with less pointless symbols of wealth and an odd feeling coming from my center that left me a bit dizzy and confused as I stumbled into my rickshaw and had my servants carry me home.

I had been bamboozled.

A week later, I dropped in after one of their scientists came to my castle with shaky knees and a report for me to read. I had snatched the paper out of the tiny man’s hands and ignored the yelp from the scratch I had caused before I read over it hastily. Frustrated and insulted at the strange language and symbols on the page, I went over to the docks and burst inside, demanding an explanation.

“Calm down,” was all the woman said, never taking her eyes off the tank full of floating squid as she jotted something down, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“You will answer us this instant!”

“I said, in a minute. I’m taking notes on the progress of the experiments you requested. Be patient.”

I became aggravated, and reached towards her throat, “I said this insta-”

She threw up a hand grabbed ahold of my wrist, easily avoiding being scratched by any part of my claws. Her eyes were narrowed, a dead, annoyed half-lidded look in them as her clipboard shifted and clanged against the glass of the tank. Three of her fingers were coiled in my matted fur, but her pointed and thumb were still curved round the pen she had been using moments before.

“I will explain everything to you if you give me a moment. I just need to take some more notes on these guys. Now, you can either sit over there,” she gestured with her head to a round table with two plastic chairs, “or you can leave, and I will send someone else over to give you another report, and you can continue going blissfully unaware of what we are doing. Those are your choices.”

She slowly let go of me, and touch lingering for a moment, and then went back to writing. Her reflection in the glass never showed her eyes glancing over to me, she was completely focused on the fleshy, slimy white sea creatures mingling about inside the water. After a minute of deliberation, I stomped over to the table and slammed down into the plastic chair, crossing my arms and glaring at the back of her head as I waited. It didn’t last though, because my weight was too much, and the chair shattered and sent my tumbling to the hard concrete ground unceremoniously. Too stunned, I rolled a bit on the ground in the pile of broken plastic and metal, embarrassment creeping up my neck.

I always missed her back hunching over and shaking, her face hidden from afar but her laughter ringing out clearly through the walls of the lab even as she tried to stifle it.

The human was more than happy to explain things to me once she was done with her “notes”. They had caught several different types of sea life known for their intelligence and were beginning to experiment with their reaction to different environmental changes in combination with the medicine that was thought to cause the initial mutations in the first two rats, Ratam and Reve. She had sent some of her colleagues over to the library to find newspapers and journalism that would have the published research so they could use it to speed up their research.

“So, once we get them to lay some eggs, we’ll be able to manipulate the genes a bit more and then we’ll go from there.”

“Will they be like us then?”

She laughed, “Probably not that soon. Experiments like this can take upwards of three years.”

I grumbled, “We need it done faster. We will not be happy about this.”

“Who’s we?”

I blinked at her, confused.

“You don’t know who we are?”

“You never told me your name,” she said matter of factly. I should have been offended on the Emperor’s behalf, but I couldn’t find it in myself to launch into another tirade. She had made me a cup of tea and was just blowing across the steam from her own, eyes flicking up to me as they waited for me to answer.

“Oh, well, it’s Cora,” I drummed my claws on the table, but at the loud ticking sound, I shoved them into my lap, “Rat King Cora.”

“That’s quite the title,” she hummed, “but a bit too long for my tastes.”

“Well,” I scoffed, “what’s your name then?”

“Rattul. Just Rattul.”

“Don’t humans usually have middle and last names too?”

“Dr. Rattul, if you must. But just Rattul will do. Now, if you don’t drink your tea, it will go to waste.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I left the lab that day before a long rain shower began, and I felt that same cloudy, confusing feeling take over me. I didn’t know why, but I would return to my castle and enter a cycle of anxiously awaiting the next report to come, so I could storm over and complain about her needing to explain things to me again. Technically, the writ did say I could visit whenever, but, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, I didn’t have the confidence to do that just yet. Even as she began writing the reports in much easier terms that I could comprehend, it was easier for me to just pretend I still didn’t so I could use that as my excuse to drop by.

Furthermore, all of her reports got forwarded to the Emperor, so there were some occasions when I needed to stop by the capital and summarize her findings to him. While Rattul was conducting research on whether squids and other life could become sentient like us or not, the desired result the Emperor hoped to see was an overwhelming “no”. No matter how many tests it took, he wanted to be certain that there would be no competition for the rats now that they had overtaken humans. As rodents, we were one of the most intelligent creatures, but cephalopods and things in the sea that we had not interacted with before posed a different kind of threat if they could become like us.

In the chance that Rattul discovered and inadvertently created the first group of sentient marine life, like the scientists did a few years ago for us, not only would we have to begin a new operation to invest more time and resources into designing a way to prevent anymore from developing, I had to wonder if Rattul would be punished for what she had wrought.

“I received a letter from the Emperor, by the way.”

I almost tripped over one of the wires leading out of the tanks around the facility, “What?”

“The Emperor? Ratmilian? He wants me to bring a collection of my findings next month straight to the capital.”

“That can’t be right,” I stopped and began to shake, “That’s wrong.”

“I can show you the letter. One of my scientists almost got eaten alive by the messenger who didn’t like the way he opened the door,” she kept walking along the tanks, reaching to grab the red railing of a metal staircase that led to a catwalk that ran overhead the entire facility.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. That can’t be right.”

She walked along the roof of three tanks, her clipboard and coat bathed in the blue light, “Well, it is. I don’t know why you’re so shaken up about this.”

“It can’t be right because he didn’t tell us!” I shouted, clutching at my ears and beginning to scratch, “He always tells us! He can’t not tell us!”

My nails cut through the fur and sliced into the skin, beginning to draw blood as I scratched and scratched in frustration, my crown knocking off my head. Through the liquid pain now beading from my skull, I could hear metal tinging in rapid succession before footsteps raced towards me. Something patted at my snout, and then soft hands came up and coiled around my wrists again, pulling them away.

Rattul was looking at me, a mixture of awe and concern washing over her face, flooding it with more expression than I had ever seen her wear before. Her mouth was open slightly so I could see the slight gap in her front teeth, her eyes were wide and framed by a furrowed brow as she stared up at me, darting around to see all the damage I had done to myself within a few seconds.

“Hey, hey,” her voice hushed, “Why are you getting so worked up? Here, come with me.”

She tugged on my arm, but I didn’t budge right away. My head was bowed and trained on the ground, and I felt null and devoid of anything. I had shut down. There were so many questions running through my head moments ago and now I was just flatlining, everything having slammed up against a brick wall and dropping dead for me to just look at.

Why did the Emperor want Rattul? Was there something in her reports he didn’t like? Did he want to shut down the experiments? Did he have a problem with me visiting? Did he know something about how I-

I flinched as her hands came up to pet my ears, pressing them down flat before she smoothed out the fur again, “Ugh, even for a king, you’re really dirty. There’s a bath in the back, let’s get you washed up and then we can bandage you. I don’t want you to be getting hurt around here though, so it might be best for you to go home after, okay?”

I nodded meekly, and let her pull my along, guiding me carefully over tubes and wires to a hallway with a back room where Rattul and the other scientists slept. She took my red cloak and set it beside my crown, which she had picked up while we walked, on the counter and then coaxed me into the shower. I don’t remember much of what she did after the spray of cold hit my face, but my skin does still recall the water slowly turning warm the moment her hands ran along my back with foaming soap bubbling between her fingers.

She dried me off with a blow dryer and patted me with a big blanket, as towels were too small for my form, and then she taped up the gashes on my temples.

“Listen, I don’t really know the protocol for this, but if you would like to accompany me to the capital, I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” she said, sitting on the counter after she had cleaned me up, “I know I act indifferent, but even I’m a little nervous about seeing the Emperor of all people.”

“You’re afraid of him but you weren’t of me?”

“How could I be afraid of someone like you?” She chuckled, gesturing, “You were just a fat, muddy rat pretending to be someone rich. The Emperor… well, you know how the anthem goes- he’s the giant rat who makes all the rules! It’s different, you know?”

I stared down at the floor, fiddling with my claws for a moment before I stood up, the blanket falling off my shoulders onto the floor, “I should really be going, if you will excuse me.”

“Wait! One question, so it’s me now?”

I paused in the doorway, “What?”

“Just now, you said ‘me’, and before you said ‘I’. I’m so used to you saying ‘we’ and ‘us’,” she hopped off the counter but leaned on it with one hand, “What happened to this ‘we’?”

A horrible revelation dawned on me, and I tried my best to keep my claws at my sides and not to show any stress, “I’m sorry, we need to go now.”

As I sprinted out of the facility, I did not miss the way her expression melted into a frown, a sigh leaving her lips. I ran back by the tanks towards the exit, passing the red metal mesh that her clipboard had been abandoned on. Before I made it to the door, I saw something flash from within one of the glass walls.

Floating, surrounded by squid, Rattul’s pen had fallen in.

“And so, that is my report,” Rattul finished, folding her arms behind her back as she stared straight ahead, eyes pretending to lock onto the Emperor who was seated on his throne, leaning on his arm as he listened for over an hour to a recounting of all of her progress.

“So, what you’re saying is you haven’t made any progress really, is that right?”

I stiffened off to the side. Despite the two of us parting on awkward terms last time, I had received my own summons to the castle for “separate business”, but as I was in charge of overseeing the operation, I was allowed to sit in on the meeting between the scientists and the Emperor.

“With all due respect, Emperor Ratmilian, I was under the impression from Rat King Cora that there would be no time limit on my research. We’ve already had the first group of eggs hatch, but like I said, the squids were contaminated by a foreign substance. So now, we’re working with only the octopi and salmon.”

“What was this foreign substance? You keep describing it vaguely. Just spit it out already.”

Rattul sighed and shut her eyes, “It was a pen. A simple writing utensil that got inside the tank. We extracted it, but the squids had already managed to unscrew it and unleash the purified ink into the container, so we don’t quite know what’s going on in there. It would be unwise to continue to do tests on something with so many unknown factors.”

“How did you manage to drop a pen in there? One of my own is paying you to conduct this research, we expected you to be extremely cautious.”

For a moment, Rattul’s eyes flickered to me, and I thought that perhaps she was going to sell me out, say something about how she dropped it when I began to act erratic, how it was my fault and that I was the one that caused the experiments to come to a grinding halt. But, instead:

“The platforms above the tanks are damp because of the condensation. I slipped and almost fell, which is why the pen fell in. I think you would agree it is better we only lost a tank, and not the leading biologist on this project, no?”

The Emperor didn’t take kindly to her words. Sitting up on his throne, he leaned forward with a frown on his face, his beady black eyes ablaze with such anger I had never seen before. I felt adrenaline in me, tempting me to jump in if he lunged or called his guards to attack her, but I was frozen to the side of the room beside the marble column I had been waiting next to since I was dismissed.

“I can get any biologist to take over for you, do not feel so high and mighty, puny human. In an instant, I could have you swallowed whole or ripped limb from limb or thrown into the dungeons of one of my men to rot for all of time. These degrees, mere sheets of paper with ink on them that you humans deem worthy of your intelligence means nothing to a being like me, who was born and manifested into greatness and wholeness from simply existing. The universe chose me, but it did not chose you. I will let you go this time, but if you come back to me with no definitive answer again, I will not be merciful this time.”

Rattul merely stared dead eyed at him and then with a wave of her hand, did an over exaggerated bow, before backing out of the room. Once she had disappeared behind the heavy stone doors, the Emperor turned to me.

“Cora, please come forward.”

I crossed over the threshold of the marble, mosaic tile to the red carpet, turning and walking up to my Emperor with as much grace as I could muster, even as my anxiety continued to send me internally into fits of panic. Rattul had put him in a bad mood, there was no way I was going to be treated nicely today.

“Now, Cora, while I am displeased with the progress of this whole… endeavor, I have a different matter I would like to discuss with you. To cut to the chase, because I have other things I must attend to afterwards, I wanted to make sure you still remembered who you were.”

My brain short-circuited again, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve received a few concerned notices from some of the servants in your castle. They’ve been saying you’ve been acting differently ever since I gave you this assignment. Furthermore, your language just now confirms some of their suspicions. Cora… When have we ever used ‘me’?”

I froze, “I’m sorry, Emperor, I-”

“‘I, I, I,’ these are not words I like to hear, Cora, from you at least.”

“We’re sorry, Emperor, we have just been-”

“Have you lost your mind?” He suddenly screamed at me, jumping off of his throne, the millions of rats making up his shape began to wriggle as the impact jostled his imposing form, “Have you forgotten all that you knew when you were born from me? There is no ‘I’, there is no ‘you’, there is no ‘we’ unless I am included! I am the only one of you lot that can say such things, because I am the only one who the universe awoke, and I was the one who granted you a piece of me so you could do my bidding! You are nothing! You are nothing without me and you are nothing but a lowly clone in my presence! You can do nothing without me, and you will be nothing without me! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?!”

I responded in a series of squeaks and sad chirps, cowering as he raised his claws towards me. He noticed the bandages on my head, and suddenly rained down a series of blow upon my ears.

“It’s that human, isn’t it? It was a mistake sending you there, it was a mistake thinking I could entrust anyone but myself with my kingdom, my world. Cursed human language, I can’t fault such lesser beings from communicating with such words, but among my subjects, I forbid it. Cora, you will not test me again. You will remember your place, correct?”

“Cora will remember his place. King will remember his place.”

“Good, you measly pawn,” he huffed and fixed the lapels on his jacket, “and just to make sure of it…”

Sharp pain stabbed into me and my whole body began to vibrate violently as the Emperor stuck his hand inside, breaking through the solid wall my settled body had shaped itself into. Suddenly I wasn’t Cora, I was thousands of rats squirming about in a panic as sharp, pointed, broken claws forced past them, moving deeper into my form. With gasping breaths, the Emperor leaned in close to my face and smiled sickly at me, yellow broken teeth and a wild look in his eyes set against his reddish brown fur made me shiver as I went into shock.. Suddenly he wrapped around our center, the rat that was seated in the middle of us and he yanked, the other rats tried to hold in but as he retracted his hand the force in which he ripped the rat out of us sent us stumbling backwards.

“Remember, this, it is a gift. I can easily take it away.”

He eyed the panicked, flailing rat for a moment before he skewered it with a nail. We fell apart, collapsing into a heap on the floor into thousands of scampering panicked rats. The Emperor dropped the body of our center.

“You are still expected to continue your duties like usual. Have fun putting yourself back together again.”

He walked through the curtains behind the throne and out into the hall, leaving us alone to seize and twitch in pain until we could get enough of our bearings to try and piece ourselves back together again. Doors to the throne room opened and closed, people walked in and out, but no one stopped to help us. By the time we had reformed and regained our one, combined vision, the old central rat was gone.

It was Rattul who came to the castle to visit me. Rather than sending one of her underlings, she marched her way in with a report in hand, although I could tell that it was all a guise. We had agreed when we were leaving the capital together to forgo any future reports, as the Emperor seemed he was going to be displeased with anything I sent him. I tried not to think too much about the Emperor as we left, and I hoped that Rattul didn’t notice anything strange about my behavior or appearance. I was surprised she waited for me at all, with how long my “meeting” took.

The doors to my own, dark, stone and concrete throne room were thrown open, and Rattul walked across the ballroom floor to meet me. I almost leapt out of my chair when she appeared, my arms held open, but then I felt the instability of my own form and I pulled away. I probably looked disgusting, she could probably see all the rats bubbling under the skin.

“I came to bring you this,” was what she said, holding out the usual yellow envelope of files that were delivered, “and to ask where you’ve been.”

It wasn’t that I was avoiding her, but Emperor Ratmilian had been keeping a tight hold on all of the other rules since my incident. We had to appear for two cases of humans being arrested by the rat police, both of which fell on my shoulders to house until a suitable punishment could be designed for them. In front of the prisoners, everyone had reverted to our more primal speak of squeaks and screams, as it was better to keep them blind to our plans. The girl wasn’t causing us too much trouble, however, now that the strange looking man had been throw into my dungeon as well, I found myself a bit more nervous at night.

“I had other responsibilities, I am not obligated to visit you. The writ says I can visit whenever I deem it necessary.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Do not use such coarse language in front of me.”

“If anyone should be lecturing you on language, it shouldn’t be you, or that Emperor guy. Now open the dumb package.”

I stiffened at the Emperor’s name. Rattul crossed her arms and looked away, sniffing loudly through her nose.

“Did you really think I didn’t hear the whole thing? Now open it.”

My claws trembled as I opened the package, undoing the little loop around the button humans loved to use. As I popped the flap open, something came scurrying at me.

It was my center.

“After he did that to you, I walked in and saw it all. I took away this guy and fixed him up before he could die. He’s been doing okay. I don’t know if there will be any issues, but, I’ve been studying how you guys work and exist, so I’m fairly confident my medical treatment didn’t ruin his sentience or whatnot.”

I looked down at the little rat in my hands. I had since gotten a new center, a new rat had moved in to take this one’s place after it had fallen out. Having a weak center was bad, and according to the Emperor, this one had always been weak. I glanced at Rattul, seeing her fidgeting.

“If you don’t want it, that’s fine too. I see you’ve already reformed so-”

“No, Rattul… Thank you. I want to put them back in but… I don’t know how you would react to seeing it.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no, not at all. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

The rat in my hand squeaked up at me excitedly, “Well, he seems ready,” she laughed, “but I can wait. Take your time.”

She sat down on the ground of the ballroom, and I too decided to take a seat. Keeping the rat cupped in my hands, I prepared myself for what was to come. I could try and completely fall apart again and have them fight to rebuild, or I could try and coax the new center to move to its old position. Either way, it would be unpleasant to watch, and unpleasant to feel.

I took a deep breath, “I’m sorry if this upsets you in some way,” was all I said before I shoved the rat towards my chest like a dagger into the heart. Instantly, the shield of me being one giant rat collapsed, and the truth of me being a mass of thousands of rats was revealed once more to the world. My eyes fell away, my ears and head became clusters of wiggly, mutated beasts. Although not as startling and painful as with the Emperor, discomfort rippled across my form as I struggled to push the rat inside.

Even without my giant two eyes, I could see through each of my scurrying parts a different angle, different view of the world like this. But, I didn’t look at Rattul. I didn’t want to see her reaction to me like this. I was just a filthy beast made of disease ridden, lesser intelligent rats that had been given sentience through some miracle by the Emperor. I had no reason to think any thoughts other than the command I was given, I had no reason to be anything but thankful for this grotesque form since it allowed me to breath, see, and live in a higher way than anyone else around here.

The rat wasn’t adhering to the center of my body well, and I was growing frustrated at the longer I was unstable. I didn’t want to look like this, I just wanted the stupid creature to go back in, all the others to move out of the way, and then I could be normal again and at least pretend like nothing ever happened.

“Get in… Get in…” My voice erupted from the illusion as it faded in and out. There was noise from across the room, and I could hear shoes scraping off the floor as Rattul approached me and shoved her hand inside of me.

“Sorry for this, but allow me to try.”

Although she had done it so brazenly, it didn’t hurt at all. Her small hand easily wiggled through my body and slid alongside my own arm, finding the rat she had saved and taking it from me. I retracted my hand weakly as she began to move it around.

“Is there where he goes?”

“Uh, a little bit more to the left.”

“Here?” She glanced up at me with an unreadable expression each time, “Or my left?”

“No, that’s fine, but first you have to-”

“Alright little guys, can you make space for your friend again? I want to see Cora happy again, okay?”

To my surprise, the rats all seemed to nod, and the previously packed space in the center parted to create a small chamber, and Rattul carefully set down the healed rat in the space before she pulled her arm out. The white sleeve of her coat was covered in mangy gray hair.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want you to see that ever.”

“Why?” She folded her hands behind her and cocked her head, “There’s nothing wrong with it, and besides, it could help me with my research.”

“I doubt the first sentient squids would ever take on a disturbing form like this.”

“Why not? Ratmilian is like you too, is he not?”

“He is, but it’s different… His form is mystical, it is beautiful, it is the original so it can never fall apart. I am just…” My heart sank as I began to remember his words to me, “…We are not him…We don’t know how to explain it in human tongue.”

Two hands came up to the sides of my head, brushing over the places where the bandages had once been, now two scars that made the hair patchy and thin, “No, you do. He just won’t let you. You’re your own person, you know that, right?”

My eyes widened, and I raised my head a bit, my giant form pulling her arms a little higher as she had to reach up on her toes to stay holding my head, “No, I’m not…. You heard what Ratmilian told me? I can’t be anything… I’m nothing-”

She slapped the sides of my snout now, rolling back down to stand flat on her feet as she pulled me close to her face and stared into my eyes with such a sharp gaze, “Cora, listen to me. Ratmilian is mistaken. He thinks he wants to know if these dumb squids can become sentient or not, but what he really wants to know, what he fears becoming true, is that my research will reveal that they are like you. He doesn’t care about how smart they are or if they can become that hive mind like his body is, and although you are modeled off of him I can see you are a much different person, a much different being than he is. You are something. So please, stop saying that you aren’t.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, and then I broke the silence with a laugh. She seemed confused at first, but then I said, “Thank you, although I don’t think it’s appropriate to use the term ‘person’ when talking about a rat.”

She joined in on the laughter, and suddenly her hand was in mind, and she was twirling around under me, “You’re right there. Maybe ‘ratson’ then?”

“There was another word you used in your report. Persona? Perhaps ‘Ratsona’?” She giggled so loud and true that I became blind as she and I began to dance. It was magical, the way we just fell into one another’s forms, her hands molding gently into my rough, sharp and dangerous hands, and around the empty ballroom, we began to waltz. There was no music except the chimes from our laughter, no melody yet we fell into the perfect step pattern as our hearts beat with elation.

It wasn’t meant to last.

I didn’t know what I was doing. Despite her words, I should’ve known that everything that was happening was too good for a monster like me. Even as I began to accept her words, a dark part of my heart continued to whisper to me that she was wrong, foolish, that I would hurt her. It was one hundred percent right.

In the middle of our waltz, we stopped, as she hair had gotten frazzled in a turn and she was frantically trying to blow it out of the way to see. Taking a risk, I let go of her hand and reached forward, using the back of my hand to brush it back behind her ear, and as she looked at me with such warmth, I melted, and so did everything else.

Suddenly, my arm erupted into noise and motion, my body fell apart as several rats jumped out of the form and onto Rattul’s shoulder and head. At first, she eyed them with curiosity, breathing out a nervous laugh as they began to climb all over her, but then she quickly became panicked when I pulled away and began to vibrate, reaching out to me as the rats began to circle around her neck.

“Cora? Cora! What’s happening? Are you okay? What are they doing?! What’s happening-” She shouted as the rats suddenly stopped and began to form a tight ring around her neck and sunk in, suffocating her. And that was when I realized I had backed away at all.

My arm was still held out to her, the rats were still a part of me. My claws were choking her.

“You’re just a monster.”

I released her like a hot coal had burned me the moment I saw her face begin to turn blue. She fell in a heap on the floor, coughing and hacking as she carefully felt her neck and the bruising that was beginning to form. Her head lifted up to look at me as she heard the nails on my feet tapping against the floor.

“Cora, wait-”

I dashed away, leaving her alone in the throne room. Later I would send my servants to go help her get home, but they would report back in that she had already disappeared. When I went back to the ballroom to sit on my throne many hours later, the envelope would still be there, only there was new writing on the back of it.

The words “I forgive you” would forever haunt me.

It took me two weeks before I worked up the courage to go visit the lab again. I didn’t want to have to face her, but she wasn’t sending reports, and if I didn’t continue monitoring her progress, I feared the wrath of the Emperor being much more painful than last time. He might think Rattul was hiding something, or that I didn’t want him to discover the uprising that I had planned with the newly sentient squid. Either way, my servants had been reminding me enough so I decided the best plan of action was to walk in and pretend that nothing had happened between us.

What I was not prepared for was to find nothing at the lab.

While Rattul was almost always running around or her fellow scientists were scurrying by the tanks close to the door, upon entry at the back door, I saw nothing but green and blue tanks empty, the flickering white lighting of the warehouse, and noticed the absence of the hum of the many machines struggling to keep the squids alive. I walked in cautiously, wondering if someone had broken in, and if so, a part of me couldn’t help getting worked up about where Rattul was.

Where were the squids? She wouldn’t have run off with the research, would she? That would be an instant death sentence if she was found, and leaving the city was a massive “no” as they would have checked her and the scientists cargo and instantly stop them. Ratmilian would be told what had been found, and then they all would get sent to the capital, and then end up sliced up for their disobedience.

Rattul wouldn’t make that mistake, would she?

Or did I simply scare her that badly, I had to wonder…

I continued to walk along the various tanks, all seeing the same thing. Some of them were completely empty and clear, dark and turned off, while others still had their colorful, glowing hue as they were full of water but just devoid of marine life. I reached the center of the lab, and paused at one tank, black and murky. This was the contaminated one.

I was surprised that they hadn’t cleaned it yet. Surely there couldn’t still be squid living inside of this, I thought. Rattul and the rest of her team had stopped feeding them after considering them a lost cause. Why had they persisted on keeping it dirty and contaminated at all then?

I almost continued on, walking past that red metal staircase when I saw something twinkling at me out of the corner of my eye. I turned around, and immediately my eyes zeroed in on something reflecting from above the tank, on the catwalk.

It was the metal clip of her clipboard. Beside it, a single shoe.

It took less than five seconds for my brain to piece together what had happened. The next thing I knew, I was punching the glass, shattering it into a billion pieces as the inky water came pouring out all over the lab, carrying flailing squid and whatever else had fallen inside out. The last thing to ride on the ink wave, falling to rest at the bottom of the tank, was Rattul’s body.

Her skin had turned somewhat gray, her lab coat had absorbed the most of the ink, the white was freshly stained black because it continued to seep into my own fur coat as I picked her up and carefully cradled her in my arms. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. I see you :

“Who hurt you? Who did this to you?” I whispered, my voice coming out in squeaks instead of words. I was stunned, seeing her in such a state. I heard noise clamoring as a door was slammed open behind me.

“Rat King Cora, your highness! Rattul disappeared and we-”

The cowardly scientists. The ones that had never had the guts to do or say anything in my presence. They had always hid behind Rattul or jumped away from me. If they had seen her fall, they wouldn’t have had the speed or the strength to heave her out.

I turned around to face them, Rattul in my arms. The one scientist in the front looked up at me, jittering and shaking.

“Oh, so she was in the t-tank? We hadn’t seen her for days- we had to wonder if-”

There was only one of them. I had seen no cars out front. They lived in this facility, they had nowhere they needed to go. Even if they had seen Rattul’s shoe, I wish they had the competence to clean up after their mess. A part of me wanted to hope that perhaps it was an honest mistake, but there was too much happening, and the lack of surprise on the man’s face combined with the missing everything just said too much to my muddled brain.

My spine and my skin began to turn, I became larger, more monstrous as I hunched my back and towered over the small man, my jaw gaping wide, sharp jagged teeth oozing a terrible stench as I salivated over him, “You did this. You hurt Rattul.”

The rest of the scientists came running to the door, all of them freezing when they saw me.

“Your highness, we’re sorry for lying. We were going to tell you but-”

“Incompetent fools!” I boomed as I took my first strike. With Rattul held close to my chest, I cut across six of the men, sending them flying into walls and the other tanks. I was seeing white, hot white across all of my vision as I let my body rumble and several pieces of me run out to tear them men apart.

I stomped over to one of the screaming men, the noise guiding me through my rampage, “You did this! You let her die! You were stealing her research! You didn’t do anything to help her!”

“We can explain! Please, please, oh god, please stop this!” One of them wailed, until my head came down on his skull. There was noise by the door now, metal unlocking as they frantically tried to get outside. I sent more of me running out. I could feel my energy pulsating as the anger coursed through me.

“It doesn’t matter. You did this.”

Later I would realize how primal my brain had reverted to. A beast’s mentality the only thoughts that were swirling through my head were men bad. Rattul dead. Man’s fault. When I awoke to Rattul groaning to life later, I would realize that we were in a bloodbath of bodies submerged in a thin puddle of ink water, and that this would not look good on my behalf, no matter what I tried to say. My rats had come back to me, and the complete reforming had left me exhausted, the strange pulsations I had felt radiating from my body unfamiliar but not unwelcome. I went into the back room to find Rattul’s things, and a wave of guilt came over me when I saw many of the squid specimens in the back, in smaller tanks surrounded by notes written in someone’s frantic handwriting. It wasn’t Rattul’s.

The dates on the paper implied Rattul had been in there for days. An accident, they had witness her falling in when she decided to salvage what was left inside the tank for other research. The notes claimed that the others had tried to rescue her, but noticed a peculiar reaction happening, and decided to drop her back in. They had grabbed all the other data from their tank and began to dissect in order to better predict what they could do or what they could expect if Rattul survived the process. I had appeared just when they had started to piece together something. The notes cut off there.

I looked down at Rattul. Color was returning to her, as my fur had rubbed off most of the ink spotting her skin, and she had started showing more signs of life during my reforming, so I reasoned that whatever that power running off of me was, it must have jolted her somehow as well. Still, after days of being in that tank, she didn’t quite look like Rattul, and she didn’t quite look human.

As I was holding her, a clumpy of her wet hair snapped off of her head, slopping to the floor before it wriggled away, almost alive.

I couldn’t let her see what had happened here. If I did, she would surely hate me.

With those thoughts in mind, I went back into the main room, and out the door.

She let out a few sickly coughs the longer she was exposed to the sea breeze, and together we walked back to the castle in the rain.

#ask poland #rat hunters #rattul #writing #my writing

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an-anaemic-pen · 5 years ago

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Dance of the Little Swan I.ii

Overture

Prelude

Summary: The Jötnar were thought to be long-since-gone within the mortal realm. Amidst all of her fakery, Mommy Fortuna holds Loki, trapped in birth from and far from what he once considered home, as well as another little treasure: a swan maiden.

(Yes, this is a crossover, but the Last Unicorn is fairly minimal plot-wise and it’s largely a Loki fic)

Relationships: F/M (Loki/Original Female Character, Molly Grue/Schmendrick)

Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content)

He had not said much.

To her, at the very least.

When his cage was uncovered, he sat in stony silence or spat insults at Mommy Fortuna and Ruhk. When his cage was covered, she could hear him pacing.

The sound of horse hooves was too loud for them to talk while traveling; they had to wait until Mommy Fortuna was sound asleep if they wished to converse while stopped.

But he did not wish to talk, so it didn’t matter. It had been four weeks, and she didn’t even know his name.

Despite the lavender sky, it was late at night, and the moon was high. Ceana had already attempted to talk to the Jötunn. He’d merely grunted and rolled over so his back was to her.

He was a fearsome creature, truly, with lean muscle across his entire body and crimson eyes the color of the human blood legend said he drank daily. Perhaps that is why he is so angry all the time? Ceana thought.

Of course, she was as well—she was taken against her will from her sisters and dragged by the hair to a birdcage, where she was left naked, cold, and alone. Now, she was a thing on display, while her sisters were back in their summer home.

The legends which circulated said a man had to steal a maiden’s feather to claim her as his wife. Ceana never understood why nobody ever considered that perhaps the maidens left their feathers out to be taken. Two of her sisters already had their husbands, and she had left her feather out in hopes of finding one herself. She was sorely mistaken.

Ceana looked up into the clear sky and watched clouds cover and uncover the stars which she used for navigation while migrating. It was the time of year when the sun never fully sank below the horizon line, yet the stars could still be seen when it got near-dark. She sighed. “Gods, help me.”

The Jötunn audibly laughed at that. He was laying on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling of his cart. Ceana felt at least slightly bad that he could not see the sky.

“And just what is so hilarious, Jötunn?” Besides his usual rancor, there was something about his mood; he feigned apathy, but Ceana could feel the agitation rolling off of him in waves. It was becoming rather infectious, and her nerves were on edge.

He sat up, turning to face her. “Do you have any idea as to who you sit beside, little swan?”

It was the first time Ceana had gotten the chance to truly look at his face. He had sharp features and messy raven hair that sat at his shoulders. Perhaps he had once known what a bath was, but not as of recent. Ceana might have even considered him handsome was he not an utterly terrifying Frost Giant.

“One of the Jötnar?”

His lips formed a sneer. “Oh, how observant you are. I never would have suspected.”

She blinked. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“Why don’t you go on and take a guess?”

Ceana shook her head. “I do not know any Jötunn.” Her eyes lowered to the floor. She could not look him in the eyes for too long. He most likely already saw her as prey, and she wished not to aggravate him.

“What do you know?”

Ceana continued to stare at her feet as she told the Jötunn of all the things she had heard from her parents, from her sisters, and from travelers passing by. “The Jötnar went extinct on Midgard long ago, the Æsir gods came down and banished them to Jötunheimr, saving the mortal race from their hands.”

From the upper part of her vision, she saw him sneer. “Yes, yes, anything else?”

“They are a fearsome race. Even in the days of the gods and goddesses, they were at war with the Æsir and Vanir. No other race could withstand a battle with the gods outside of Ragnarök as long as they did.”

She saw his eyebrows twitch. “But do you know of any of them?”

Ceana looked up and cocked her head. “As in their names?”

“Yes, their names. What else would I mean?”

“I don’t—”

“That was rhetorical.”

Ceana dropped her chin again. “I know of Ymir,” she began.

“Try someone a little younger and perhaps still alive.”

“I know of Ægir.”

“I said younger.”

“Laufey and Fárbauti—”

“Oh, you’re getting closer. What of their offspring?”

“There is Loki and—”

“Very good! Although, it did take you quite some time.”

She looked at him; her chin did not move from its lowered position, but her eyes met his. “You are Loki?”

He gave her a look. “Are you truly so dull? Yes, I am Loki.”

Ceana did not know how to react. Half of her thought it best to bow, but the other half considered calling his bluff. “I do not believe you.”

He let out a laugh. It was not very smooth—how she imagined a god would sound—but more of a bark. “I suppose I should say you are somewhat intelligent for that, but I am telling the truth; savor it while it lasts.”

“Why are you here?”

He hummed. “The business of a god is not to be known by mortals.” Then, he turned away.

Ceana attempted to speak with him more, but he no longer wished to, apparently. What a fickle being, she thought and turned her head to the sky once again.

Ceana had seen ships while migrating. On the odd occasion, some of the men would call up and wave to her and watch her glide through the air (oh, how she missed flying), but she had never actually been on a ship.

It swayed gently with the waves as she was boarded in her cage. Loki was not far ahead, and his cart was already with the other cargo. He was silent. Her cage was put in place and a dirty blonde still in his adolescence reached through the bars.

Ceana scooched back to avoid his hand, madly waving around in the air. Still, he hit her foot. Then, his arm shot back. He ran away and muttered to another boy who looked almost exactly like him. The only difference between the two was the boy who had not walked up to her was slightly taller and had a scar across his cheek.

Ceana knew ships traveled for many weeks, but where she was going was a mystery. She made a mental note to remember the two boys. Perhaps they would know where she was going. Scar and… She examined them more closely. The one who had come up to her cage had longer hair that sat on his head like a scruffy mop. Scruff. Scar and Scruff.

Mommy Fortuna kept her caravan fed, rather than the shipmen, which was disappointing. Scar and Scruff did not come near her cage.

From overheard conversation, Ceana discovered that Mommy Fortuna had placed an enchantment over the cages. They appeared empty to everyone but the witch and Ruhk—and those inside, she supposed. She also discovered that she could not speak. No sound came out of her mouth when she opened it or when she tried to scream. She assumed that was also Mommy Fortuna.

At least the hag was kind enough to feed her something akin to her usual diet. Where she got the meat and greens necessary for her entire invisible caravan, Ceana did not know. She did not wish to know, either.

Three more weeks passed on the ship.

Ceana did not talk very much on her day-to-day basis, but having to stay in perfect silence was agonizing. She found that one did not know how much they spoke until they could no longer do so.

She was sound asleep, lulled by the soft rock of the boat when a gentle stroke on her shoulder roused her. Ceana was up in an instant, wide-eyed in fear. Loki had his arm and shoulder awkwardly sandwiched between the bars of his own prison, barely able to reach through her’s in order to touch her. She could see something akin to redness at the skin of his breast where the metal wore at his flesh. She wondered how long he had been trying to touch her.

Her cloak had fallen down in her sleep and left her skin exposed, and Ceana quickly wrapped herself, scrambling away from Loki. He rolled his eyes, pointing at the small circle carved out of the ship’s side to let in light. Through the sunlight, Ceana could see the ground.

The ground.

She blinked and tried to hide her smile. Her flights were never so long as the ship’s. Even when the cold early-winter air seeped through her feathers, she was able to fly over the vast water. She did not know the speed of the ship in comparison to her flight, perhaps they were in a completely different world, having sailed off the earth and to another universe while she slept.

Not talking was driving her mad.

Loki had managed to worm his way back into his cage before Mommy Fortuna noticed. Not long after, the ship shuddered as it bumped into something. Ceana could see people milling about and giant nets of fish through the window. All she wanted was some carrots from the garden her and her sisters had made by the northern lake.

The horse was hooked up to her cage once more and began to move, led by Ruhk out of the ship. The sunlight hurt her eyes, and the harbor town was busy. People were buying and selling various goods from cloth, to food, to jewelry.

Ceana barely noticed the shined golden jewelry catch Loki’s eye. His lip twitched up in a sneer. When he noticed her watching, he turned away. His muscle was still just as strong as it had been when she first saw him. His eyes were still just as terrifying, although, she thanked the cage trapping her.

Here, she was safe from his hunger. The cage was kept shut by a magical lock that alerted Mommy Fortuna if something attempted to pick it. Loki had barked out a laugh when it bit Ceana’s finger in one of her vain attempts at freedom.

The cart bumped along the road and Ceana watched people glance at her—glance past her, they still could not see her.

They’d reached a quiet nice glade not long ago, and the enchantments were removed. The first thing Ceana had done was scream. It was wonderful to feel her throat vibrate and hear her voice until she ran out of air.

Mommy Fortuna, of course, quickly ceased her noise. It wasn’t good for business.

“I do not understand why we don’t just cook her,” Ruhk commented, throwing her a few scraps of potatoes and cooked meat the witch had told him to buy at the harbor. She only ever ate meat in human form; otherwise, she couldn’t digest it. It didn't matter, since she only ate the potato, anyway. She had no want for meat after eating nothing else for so long.

Ceana glanced over at Loki’s prison. He sat cross-legged with a certain grace only a Jötunn-amongst-mortals could have. His back was perfectly straight, and he did his best to maintain some sort of godly pride as he ate.

Ceana did not wish for him to eat her and was still terrified that he might if they ever did get free, so she thought of the best title she could before speaking. “Your Godliness?” She was almost certain it was the improper way to address him.

She couldn’t figure out how, but he did something with his face that made his cheekbones all the more prominent. Then, he looked over at her. “What did you just say?”

She felt a slight flush cover her cheeks. He looked like he was on the verge of leaping at her, despite the two sets of metal bars blocking him. Ceana hesitated.

“Speak,” the God of Mischief commanded.

“Your Godliness?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Would you be willing to give me the vegetative portion of your meal in trade for the meat of mine?”

He froze. Then, he turned his body to her. Ceana did not like having his full attention. “You wish to make a deal with the God of Lies?”

She blinked and swallowed nervously. “I do not think Jötnar like potatoes, nor do I want meat. It would be mutually beneficent.”

Above all else, he looked confused with her proposition. She continued to speak. “Do you actually want them?” She cocked her head, hoping to appear more innocent. “You’ve never eaten the greenery the witch provides before.”

He sneered at her but jerked his head. Ceana assumed that was his way of agreeing and passed her meat over to him. He, in turn, threw his two potatoes into her cage and they landed in her lap.

No more was said that night.

They had only been on the new land for about a week, but Mommy Fortuna was already attempting to collect creatures for her cages. The old snake she used as the Midgard Serpent had died, nor was he of interest to these people. They saw Jörmungandr as just a giant snake sitting in a cage.

Truthfully, that was what the poor thing was.

Ruhk walked into the glade after a long outing in which Ceana and Loki had both attempted escape, both failing as usual. He had a small child in his arms. The little one couldn’t have been more than three, and screamed and cried in sheer terror.

Mommy Fortuna was most likely horrifying to the small child—she was horrifying to Ceana, even—but being swept away suddenly by both Ruhk and the hag sounded nightmare-worthy.

Ceana realized what the witch had planned for the little one. “Please, don’t do this to her!” she called. “Not to a child!”

The girl’s screeching only increased when she was thrown in a cage like a common beast. Ceana watched, powerless, as an illusion was cast over her. When the little girl let out her next sob, it sounded like a ghostly wail. Her blubbering only increased.

“Wee Annie,” Mommy Fortuna cackled, “you will certainly attract the crowd’s attention.”

Wee Annie. Ceana didn’t recognize the tale. She assumed it had to be a more localized piece of lore. Of course, she knew many different myths, but this must not have been an area on her migration trail.

By the next day, a crowd had been attracted—just as Mommy Fortuna had said. Wee Annie was apparently a fairly famous bit of folklore in the land, and the people were gathered around the little cart she was in.

The child’s prison was covered while Ceana and Loki’s were available for the public. People milled about for a little while. A man past his prime came up to her prison. He abruptly began to yank at her cloak. Ceana yelped in surprise, desperately holding onto her cloak. The man was stronger, and she could feel her grasp coming loose.

The man adjusted his footing. Just as he did so, he slipped and fell with a hard thud. Ceana looked over the edge of her cage to see he had fallen on his rear due to… ice?

It was far too warm for there to be ice on the ground.

She looked over at Loki. The Jötunn was curled up, clearly in pain as the bars of his cage heated up. He was nowhere near any of the metal, yet it clearly burned his now-reddening skin. He let out a snarl and the ice melted into the grass.

Slowly, the bars cooled back to their normal temperature.

Nobody in the crowd had noticed.

The tour began. It started out with the typical attractions, the manticore, dragon, and the Satyr. Loki was presented next, then the crowd walked up to her. “This is the Swan Maiden.” Ruhk rattled off the phrase as he always did. “With a magical little feather, she can transform from swan—” he gestured to her.

Ceana felt the illusory magic fall over her body. To the public, she appeared to change into her swan form. Oh, how she missed it. Her swan form had always been something she took for granted, but now, all she wanted to do was glide over the water with her elegant grace and go unnoticed.

“—To maiden.” The magic fell away, and she was as she had been before. “Creatures of night brought to light.”

They moved on, and she was forgotten. The anticipation was rolling off of the crowd in waves as they approached the remaining attraction. It was still covered, but Ruhk removed the large blanket with a little flourish.

The girl blinked at the sunlight and began to cry. Her paper-thin skin was translucent, clinging to her bones and making her veins bulge. Her hair was flat, framing her hollow face. Her eyes were dull, and a spot on her jaw was swollen into an egg shape.

Chills ran down Ceana’s spine.

“Perhaps if you wish to return, you should bring dear Annie a dolly,” Mommy Fortuna said as she joined the group. She covered the cage with the use of magic and announced that the tour was over. People milled around for a while, and the same man attempted to steal her cloak. This time, Mommy Fortuna stopped him. After about a quarter of an hour, the glade was empty again.

Ceana looked over at the Jötunn. His skin was still slightly purple from the heat. “Loki?”

He raised his hand. “I did not give you permission to address me by my name.”

Ceana ignored his dismissal. “You scoffed at ‘Your Godliness.’”

“You may call me ‘Your Highness.’”

Ceana’s mouth formed a line. “Very well, Your Highness. I wanted to thank you for… for earlier.”

Again, his attention was on her before. Ceana fought the urge to shrink out of existence.

“I was not helping you, merely using him as a target to test my abilities. The situation you were currently in was happenstance.”

She bit her lip. “I still wish to thank you, so thank you.”

He turned away.

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #marvel #norse mythology #Dance of the Little Swan #Dance of the Little Swan I.ii #Overture

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thedcdunce · 6 years ago

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Martian Manhunter

“I am Mars' sole survivor. There is a reason for that.” - Martian Manhunter

Real Name: J’onn J’onzz

Aliases:

Fernus

John Jones

Bronze Wraith

Bloodwynd

El Hombre Verdad

Charley Dimes

Isobel de la Rosa

Jade Warrior

Joan J'onnz

Marco Xavier

Secretary of State Kakalios

William Dyer

Yuchiro Takata

Hino Rei

Goldie Johnson

Josh Johnstone

Mrs. Klingman

a cat

Nathaniel Mackelvany

Paris Jackson

Officer Mike Sherman

Officer Perez

Lora Denton

Gender: Male

Height: 6′ 7″

Weight: 300 lbs (136 kg)

Eyes: Red

Hair: Bald

Skin: Green

Race: Martian

Powers:

Martian Physiology

Abilities:

Genius Level Intellect

Investigation

Multilingualism

Meditation

Weaknesses:

Vulnerability to Fire

Chocoholism

Equipment:

Kuru pendant

Base of Operations:

Mobile

The Astral Plane

Mars

Middleton, Colorado

Denver, Colorado

Detroit, Michigan

Z'Onn Z'Orr

JLA Watchtower

Universe:

Earth-One

New Earth

Origin: Martian survivor living on Earth as a superhero.

Parents:

M’yrnn J’onzz; father

Sha’sheen J’onzz; mother

Marital Status: Widowed (M’yri’ah; wife)

Citizenship: American

Occupation:

Adventurer

Detective

First Appearance: Detective Comics #225 (November, 1955)

Powers

Martian Physiology: Martian Manhunter has been described as "the Swiss Army knife of superheroes." His powers come from his alien physiology. Born on Mars over a millennium ago, from a super advanced civilization, boasting advanced technology and genetic modifications over its people, the Martian Manhunter would appear to be a genetically modified being with incredible powers stemming from the changes made in his body. Whether this is their natural state or an advanced state given to only a few individuals is unknown. The Martian's physiology would seem to be composed of a complex molecular chain that resembles polymer bonds but with the ability to be altered at will. The Martian Manhunter can change his mass, color, relative shape, imitating even clothing if desired. The biopolymer is extremely flexible, durable, incredibly strong for a biological material and apparently self-sustaining. It is unknown if the Martian Manhunter actually needs to eat or not but he has been seen consuming food, particularly "Chocos," a brand of cookies.

Shape-Shifting, Malleability, Plasticity, Elongation: Arguably one of the most incredible powers possessed by the Manhunter is the ability to shape-shift. He is able to literally control the molecular structure of his body's biopolymers and manipulate them into any construct he desires, in addition to and including his own body. He can form clothing and weapons with non-moving or non-functioning parts. There does not seem to be any limit to the number of people the Manhunter can imitate and has stood in as a double for many famous people. His ability to imitate people and their mannerisms has stood him in good stead for his disguises. He has recently been seen to shape-shift into the size and shape of a common house fly and to enormous sizes comparable to skyscrapers. He is also able to change colors and turn himself into objects.

Invisibility: The Manhunter can cause the biopolymers in his body to lose their ability to reflect light, rendering the Manhunter invisible to normal light and human sight. With more increased concentration, he can render himself completely invisible along the electromagnetic spectrum, including the infrared and the ultraviolet ranges of the spectrum. This invisibility does not affect every other sense and he could still be detected by touch.

Phasing: The Manhunter can phase through solid matter. No explanation of this power has been given, but it might possibly be an aspect of his psionic powers, perhaps shifting his mass into another dimension or out of vibrational phase with other objects in this dimension. Since it is known that he can alter the density of his biopolymers, it may be that he can simply become less substantial than solid matter, thereby decreasing the molecular density of his body by loosening the bonds within the biopolymers, due to - and further demonstrating - the absolute control he has over them.

Superhuman Durability: The biomorphic structure of the Manhunter's body allows him to absorb almost all kinetic energies such as high caliber bullets, shrapnel, or flying debris easily. He can harden his biopolymers by rebinding them and increase his durability. Along with his nigh-invulnerability, his shape shifting makes him even more difficult to harm. Hazardous environments practically do not affect the Martian Manhunter. In addition, Martian Manhunter's immune system protects him from all toxins and diseases.

Superhuman Strength: The Martian Manhunter is one of the strongest beings on the planet. The Martian's superhuman strength comes from his Biomorphic structure formed from immensely long and complex molecular chains, augmented with his psionic and telekinetic abilities allowing him to lift incredible weights without these weights crumbling under the stress. By modifying the density of these biopolymers, the Manhunter can make himself stronger by forcing them into tighter bundles. While at a resting state the limits of his strength are unknown, the Manhunter can lift 100 tons without much effort.

Superhuman Stamina: J'onn's endurance is just as formidable as his strength and invulnerability. He can operate under extreme conditions for an indeterminate period of time without showing signs of fatigue. The exact range of this power is unknown.

Regeneration: The Martian Manhunter has shown amazing regenerative capabilities. So great are they that he has been able to completely regenerate from nothing but his severed hand, regenerate in moments from nothing more than a puddle of green liquid, and in another instance, survived beheading.

Flight: The Martian Manhunter flies by manipulation of gravitons, manipulation of magnetic fields and control of his absolute molecular movement. These combine to give him the ability to fly great distances with little fatigue and at great speed. The Manhunter has also been seen flying in space with no difficulty. J'onn can therefore fly at speeds exceeding the escape velocity of earth under his own power.

Superhuman Speed: Either through flight or natural movement, the Martian Manhunter can maintain speed and demonstrates reflexes far in excess to that of most metahumans, and for far longer. Like the power of flight, this is accomplished by manipulating the magnetic fields of energy surrounding his body, as well as ambient gravitational particles. Traditionally, J'onn only uses his superhuman speed while flying. He can process thoughts, move, and react at super speed as well. J'onn has also demonstrated that he is fast enough to comfortably catch bullets and other exceedingly fast projectiles.

Extrasensory Input: J'onn possesses nine different senses. One of these senses could account for instances of the Manhunter's perceived precognitive abilities.

Longevity

Super Hearing

Super-Breath: The inner valves and chambers inside the Martian Manhunter's air canals are very dense and greatly enhanced, allowing him to create strong hurricane force winds just by exhaling pressurized air from his lungs in an incredibly strong burst.

Enhanced Senses

Martian Vision: The actual nature of this power seems to vary depending on the reports. It has been seen to be a bolt of force, directed by the Manhunter's eyes causing considerable damage. It has also been seen to cause flammable objects to catch fire. It also grants J'onn the ability to see into other spectrums of light. J'onn can use his Martian vision to see people and objects that are invisible to others.

Electro-Magnetic Spectrum Vision

Telescopic Vision

Microscopic Vision

Heat Vision

Telepathy: The Martian Manhunter is the most powerful telepath on the planet, and is one of the strongest telepathic beings in the Universe. He is able to read the mind of any human with no difficulties, and the only minds that can cause him trouble are insane minds. He can even read the subconscious mind as well. He is able to read minds over great distances and has been known to scan the mind of every person on Earth within a matter of moments. This telepathy extends to distances as far away as the moon, since it is known that the Martian Manhunter can telepathically communicate with someone on Earth while on the moon. It is not known whether there is any limit to the number of people he can be attuned to or whether there are any special requirements to being attuned to him. In addition to reading minds, the Martian Manhunter has a multitude of other telepathic capabilities, one of which allows him to literally reprogram the mind of a subject into believing whatever he wants them to. He can use this ability to help subjects forget things that he does not want them to remember as well as set up post-hypnotic suggestions.

Illusions

Possession

Astral Projection

Mind Control: The Martian Manhunter can also control other beings mind's. Insane minds seem to be the only minds he has some trouble controlling.

Telepathic Relay: Otherwise known as a telepathic link. The Manhunter is able to use his telepathic prowess as a relay station for a group of minds, who can then "speak" to each other through him. This relaying ability seems to be limited to the same range as the Manhunter's normal telepathic range.

Telepathic Assault: The Martian Manhunter can also use his telepathic abilities in an offensive manner. He has the ability to cause mental shutdown in a target using his psionic powers. The Manhunter does not use this power often due to the invasive nature and harshness of such a telepathic attack.

Thought Sensing: The Manhunter can use the mental signature of a being to track it, and can detect life forms by their empathic as well as telepathic signatures. He can detect whether a being is intelligent or not, and can communicate with it empathically if it does not have a communication-driven frame of reference with which normal telepathy may function. He can also detect various states of mind from anywhere in the world.

Mayavana: One of the most prized abilities of the Martians is Mayavana. It is the ability to reach into another mind and create a mental reality as real as any normal reality. The strain of Mayavana is such that it can only be used once in a lifetime, and so is normally used on the one that a Martian loves the most.

Telekinesis: J'onn possesses the ability to move objects with his mind, which he described as ""molecular hypnosis" and "Martian mind-over-matter".

Abilities

Genius Level Intellect: The Martian Manhunter possesses highly advanced reasoning and logic capabilities, and uses them to great effect. The Martian Manhunter's particularly astute reasoning capabilities and long-term association with Earth's global population gives him an edge in dealing with humans of diverse governments, cultures and religions.

Investigation

Multilingualism

Meditation: Martians enter a meditative state as a form of sleep.

Weaknesses

Vulnerability to Fire: The Martian Manhunter has a psychosomatic fear of fire. The Guardians of the Universe have built in a fear of fire when they first confronted the Burned. Exposure to fire, causes him to lose his powers, and in the case of extreme fire, to lose his control over his biomorphic form. The Manhunter is more vulnerable in this form and can take damage in this vulnerable state.

Chocoholism: It has also been suggested that something within J'onn's physiology makes him addicted to the chemicals used in the Earth snack, Chocos. Withdrawal symptoms include violent bursts of rage and loss of intellect. However, these claims have never been accurately substantiated, and may even be false.

Equipment

Kuru pendant: The Martian Manhunter owns one of two Kuru pendants. The pendant acts as a repository of ancient Martian lore and knowledge. The second pendant belonged to the late Martian, Roh'kar.

Personality

Like all Martians, J'onn has a somewhat cold and stoic demeanor. He has very restricted emotional expressions. J'onn typically acts as the voice of reason in the Justice League and is one of the wisest leaders within the hero community, along with Batman and Superman.

Despite his cold exterior, J'onn is one of the kindest and most noble heroes operating on earth. The Manhunter has demonstrated enormous willpower, as evidenced by his ability to retain his sanity after the death of his race. He has a subtle sense of humor and an affinity for the chocolate cookie sandwiches called Chocos. The Martian Manhunter is considered by many to be the heart and soul of the Justice League.

Origin

Centuries ago on the planet Ma'aleca'andra, the Green Martians known as M'yrnn and Sha'sheen gave birth to twin sons. The bearing of twins was uncommon among the Martian culture, and as such, the first of the twins was named J'onn J'onzz, whose name means "Light to the Light." J'onn's brother, however, was born a mutant, bereft of a Martian's innate ability to communicate telepathically. He was named Ma'alefa'ak, whose name means "Darkness in the Heart."

As an adult, J'onn became a Manhunter and married a Martian woman named M'yri'ah. The two established a modest home for themselves beneath the windswept Martian plains and gave birth to a daughter named K'hym.

Years passed, and J'onn's brother Ma'alefa'ak grew to despise everything about Martian culture. In an ambitious endeavor to commit full-scale genocide against his own people, he engineered a contagious virus known as H'ronmeer's Curse. The virus reacted to telepathic energy and carried from one Martian to the next whenever they elected to use their psionic powers. The plague responded to a Martian's innate fear of fire, causing them psychosomatic stress so intense, that their bodies and minds would literally burst into flame. J'onn desperately tried to keep his wife and daughter from using their mental gifts, but they were unable to do so, and thus ultimately contracted the virus. K'hym was the first to experience the symptoms, and M'yri'ah followed soon after. J'onn was anguished as he watched his family burning to death before his very eyes. The trauma of the event shattered his psyche, and nearly drove him mad.

Welcome to Earth

Meanwhile, on the planet Earth, a would-be scientist named Dr. Saul Erdel developed a transmitter machine based upon ancient Martian technology. Seeking to make contact with extraterrestrial life, he aimed his device towards the vicinity of Mars and activated it. The transmitter beam streaked across both space and time, striking the Martian Manhunter at a point in time several centuries before Erdel would even be born. The beam brought J'onn back to Erdel's natural time era, where he collapsed on the ground outside of the doctor's Colorado laboratory.

Erdel brought the distraught Martian inside and attempted to nurse him back to health. The anguish of J'onn's mental state created a psychic bond between the two, and Erdel became aware of the events that took place on Mars. In an effort to heal J'onn's mind, Erdel used the mental link to fabricate a new history for the Martian. He created a back-story inspired by the writings of famous science fiction novelists such as Ray Bradbury and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Eventually, J'onn's sanity was restored, and he was prepared to function in this strange, new world. Erdel put the idea into his head that he should become a great champion, and thus J'onn adopted the heroic guise of the Martian Manhunter.

When J'onn shapeshifted into a human-like form, Erdel was shocked and suffered a heart attack that killed him. As he was dying, Erdel asked J'onn for forgiveness for making him a prisoner of Earth.

It was later revealed that Mars was dead when J'onn was taken, killed by a mental plague deliberately started by his brother Ma'alefa'ak. He took the identity of the Bronze Wraith, and fought crime with the Justice Experience.

John Jones, Police Detective

J'onn was able to use his powers to fit into human society. He adopted a human appearance and called himself "John Jones." He became a police detective in the city of Middleton. For a long time, he worked as a policeman while secretly using his alien powers to solve cases and help people.

Some time later, the existence of the Martian Manhunter was accidentally revealed. From this point on, J'onn stopped hiding his superhero feats from the world, but he kept his double-identity as John Jones secret. It was at this time that he began to publicly appear in his green-skinned humanoid form.

He subsequently acquired policewoman Diane Meade as his partner, and an pet Zook who helped him solve cases.

J'onn J'onzz was one of the founding members of the Justice League of America.

J'onn's career as a police detective was ended by the Idol Head of Diabolu. This evil statue expelled a deadly cloud. John Jones saved a child from the cloud, but in doing so he was engulfed by it. His fellow policemen believed he must have died. J'onn took this as an opportunity to abandon his double life. He allowed the police department to believe he had died, and as the Martian Manhunter he even attended his own funeral.

Martian Manhunter Without John Jones; Justice League of America

After this, J'onn J'onzz and Zook began a quest to combat the Idol Head of Diabolu, which they finally managed to destroy.

J'onn then briefly assumed the alias "Marco Xavier" in order to infiltrate the international crime cartel known as VULTURE.

J'onn served as a regular member of the Justice League of America. However, when a group of evil Martians led by General Blanx destroyed the surface of Mars, forcing all the good Martians to flee in a rocket, J'onn accompanied them into space, leaving the Justice League.

Over the next few years J'onn was rarely seen, but he occasionally showed up to help the JLA. Eventually he returned to the JLA full-time.

When the original Justice League of America disbanded, J'onn became the leader of the new "Justice League Detroit". He remained with that team until it, too, disbanded.

Justice League International

J'onn was one of the founding members of the Justice League International.

J'onzz revealed that his familiar appearance is not his true Martian form but a "compromise" between his true form and a human appearance - explaining that his real form is private and that, even on Mars, his "public" appearance was the familiar version.

In addition to serving in the League under his own identity, he also joined as "Bloodwynd."

JLA

The Martian Manhunter is the most recognized hero in the Southern Hemisphere, and he maintains a number of different secret identities, many of them outside the United States. However, following two incidents, he decides to focus on his original human identity and retire the others.

Later, the Martian Manhunter attempts to conquer his fear of fire and makes a deal with a flame-wielding villainess named Scorch, who wants J'onzz' telepathic help in dealing with her own mental issues. 20,000 years before, an extremely dangerous race of beings called "the Burning" caused large fires to help themselves reproduce asexually. In order to prevent the Burning from destroying much of the universe, the Guardians of the Universe split the species into the Green Martians and the White Martians, changed their reproductive behavior, and instilled in them a fear of fire. When the Martian Manhunter confronts his fear of fire, he reverts into one of the ancient creatures and changes his name to Fernus. His genetic memory identifies threats such as Vandal Savage, who killed one of the Burning on ancient Earth. This same genetic memory also makes Fernus hate the Green Lantern, due to his association with the Oans.

Fernus increases the strength of the powers he inherits from J'onn: For example, he can phase other beings rather than just himself, and he has access to pyrokinesis. He can breathe fire of such intensity that it harms Scorch, who had previously been thought immune to damage from fire. Fernus' tremendous strength also allows him to dominate the Justice League in combat even without his Martian telepathic powers. He can also heal himself from almost total destruction within seconds.

The Justice League eventually defeats Fernus by re-enlisting Plastic Man, who is immune to Fernus' psychic powers and has superior shape-changing abilities. It is implied that Batman recruited Plastic Man to the Justice League as a balance in case the Martian Manhunter ever got out of control.

After destroying Fernus, J'onn grieves for Scorch, who had fallen into a coma, and with whom he had fallen in love. J'onn later tells Superman that his aversion to fire has changed: he is now invulnerable to flames unless they are "flames of passion" or of some other "psychic significance."

Infinite Crisis and "One Year Later"

Although J'onzz is initially thought killed in the explosion of the Justice League Watchtower, Justice League member Manitou Dawn receives a telepathic vision of J'onzz assuring her that he "will reveal himself in time," but needs her help to keep an eye on a mysterious, newly-powerful telepath - the mind-controlling villain, Key - whose abilities he had always managed to dampen before.

J'onzz resurfaces during Infinite Crisis, unconscious and connected to Alexander Luthor, Jr.'s vibrational tower, along with Lady Quark, the Ray, Black Adam, Power Girl, Nightshade, and Breach. Wonder Girl, Superboy, and Nightwing free J'onzz and the others from Alexander's tower.

Oracle asks J'onzz to telepathically coordinate the heroes' response to the Society's global jailbreak. He joins the assembled heroes in the defense of Metropolis from the combined might of the world's super-villains and in the battle against Superboy-Prime.

In the following months, J'onn masqueraded as U.S. Secretary of State Kakalios in an attempt to bring down Checkmate. He was successful in eliminating it as a U.S. government-controlled agency. However, it soon reorganized under the United Nations.

One of the most dramatic changes in J'onn's life occurred a short time later. While operating under the guise of William Dyer, he discovered that several Green Martians had crash-landed on Earth, and were being held by high-ranking members of the Defense Department. One of the Martians, Roh'kar, broke free of his confinement and made contact with the Martian Manhunter. The union was bittersweet, however, as a brainwashed assassin ended Roh'kar's life with a weapon designed to target Martians. J'onn found five of Roh'kar's colleagues and rescued them from the bowels of a government think tank. He established a safe house for them and pledged to do everything in his power to keep them safe from government scrutiny.

Salvation Run and Final Crisis

When Checkmate decided to capture a number of super-villains and exile them on a "prison planet" in an event known as Salvation Run, J'onn volunteered to disguise himself as Blockbuster and infiltrate the planet to keep an eye on things, making periodic reports to Batman. Catwoman finds out his true identity and, to save her own skin, outs him to the other villains, who torture him. When the villains escape the planet, teleporting back to Earth, they leave J'onn in his cage to die.

He is "rescued" by Libra and the new Secret Society of Super-Villains who open a Boom Tube between the planet and Earth. Libra brings him back to Earth with the express purpose of killing him, doing so with his spear tipped scale staff, for the Human Flame to show the Society members that he can give them their hearts desire--Human Flame having wanted J'onn dead for foiling a crime of his years ago. In his final moments J'onn broadcast a telepathic message to fellow heroes Batman, Superman, Green Lantern Hal Jordan, Gypsy, and Black Canary prompting them to say his name and, hours after his death had been discovered, simultaneously record part of his life story in their sleep.

His remains were interred in a pyramid removed from Egypt and placed back in its original location on Mars in a ceremony attended by many heroes. He was eulogized by Superman.

The Blackest Night

During the events of the Blackest Night, the dead rose across the universe and J'onn was one of them. After his resurrection and admission to the Black Lantern Corps, he went to confront Barry Allen and Hal Jordan, who were talking over Batman's grave being robbed. He approaches them saying that they should be dead and begins to fight the two, and is soon joined by Black Lanterns Elongated Man, Sue Dibny, Firestorm, Hawkman, and Hawkgirl. When the Atom arrives, Barry and Hal create a fire tornado to destroy J'onn. This fails to stop him, and the heroes are cornered until Indigo-1 and another Indigo Lantern arrive to drive them off. At the end of the Blackest Night, J'onn is revived by the Entity along with other heroes and a few villains. When Superman asks if J'onn is truly alive, J'onn responds, "It appears so."

Brightest Day

J'onn is a very prominent member, finding a water source on Mars and seen talking with the daughter of Doctor Erdel. J'onn was seen last tucking her into bed in a retirement home, in the form of her father. J'onn then visited the doctor's laboratory, but plant life around him starts to die every time he gets near. He later went to see M'gann M'orzz in Australia during her mediation search, but found her beaten and tied up. While tending to her, he is contacted by the Entity, who instructs him to burn down the newly-formed forest. When J'onn's asks M'gann who did this to her, M'gann says she was attacked by a female green Martian. J'onn presumes the forest he is to burn down is in Star City but is questioned by Green Arrow. He attempts to burn down the forest before being telepathically attacked by the Entity. The Entity reveals to him that the newly-formed forest he is to burn down is on Mars. After J'onn lashed out the Star City's forest, he starts to return home.

When J'onn enters his home, he is confronted by a female green Martian named D'Kay D'Razz, who is the one responsible for M'gann's attack. D'kay explains her origins and wants to be his mate. J'onn refuses, learning she is a psychopath when D'kay angrily lashes out to attack and enters his mind. J'onn tries to resist influence from D'kay's mind, but her control over his mind tempts him with visions of a fantasy world where all the Martians and J'onn's family are resurrected by the Entity. While reunited with his lost family, J'onn discovers that they are false and realizes that they are a ruse and the death corpse is carved of Martian symbols of love and hate from D'kay's influence. J'onn arrives vengeful and wrings D'kay's neck in disgust. J'onn defeats D'kay by forcing her into the sun but is saved from the same fate by the White Lantern Entity, who informs him that his mission has been accomplished, and returns his life to him. The Entity then told J'onn to choose between Mars and Earth. J'onn chose Earth and returned only to be absorbed into the Earth by the Entity and Deadman as "part of the plan."

When the "Dark Avatar," made his presence known, Martian Manhunter is revealed to be one of the four Elementals, the others being Aquaman, Firestorm, Hawkman and Hawkgirl. He becomes the element of Earth to protect the Star City forest from the "Dark Avatar," which appears to be the Black Lantern version of Swamp Thing. The Elementals are then fused with the body of Alec Holland in order for him to be transformed by the Entity into the new Swamp Thing and battle against the Dark Avatar. After the Dark Avatar is defeated, Swamp Thing brought Martian Manhunter and the other Elementals back to normal. Afterward, J'onn helps Melissa Erdel and removes the piece of machinery from her head that made her lose her mind.

Fun Facts

Although obviously alien in appearance, the form that most Earthlings associated with the Martian Manhunter is not actually his true form. In his natural state of being, J'onn has a slender body, with sharp, angular features and a tapered cranium. The more muscular "beetle-brow" appearance was inspired by Saul Erdel, who convinced J'onn to assume a form derived from the literary works of science fiction authors such as Edgar Rice Burroughs and Ray Bradbury.

Batman left one Choco on his casket.

In his earliest appearances, the Martian Manhunter resembled a normal human, albeit with green skin. He was drawn with standard human eyes and eyebrows. In later years however, creators decided to give J'onn a more alien appearance and provided him with the more modernized beetle-brow look.

In some of his earliest adventures, the Martian Manhunter possessed the ability to see into the near future. However, there have been scant examples of this, and it is no longer a power that he possesses in modern continuity. By his own account, the Martian Manhunter cannot perceive the future.

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manicwordsfleeing · 6 years ago

Text

A Jumbled Drive pt 3

I hoped she didn’t try and find me. The tone she had used when she called out unnerved me. Rend had used it a couple times on Live TV. It was the tone she used when she badly wanted something.

Rend always got what she wanted.

Beginning| Part 2|

It’s been a couple days since I met Rend face to face, nothing has happened yet. I hope it stays that way, the last thing I need is a road trip with happy early risers. Revolting. Who the hell enjoys rising before the sun? Not to mention the media attention along the way. I tended to... embarrass myself when I’m on Live TV.

But oh well, I can’t focus on that now. It’ll ruin my whole day. For once I’m in a good mood, I’ve been sleeping through the night for most this week. A nice change from the four hours I get every night. I wonder if it’s because I haven’t seen Tunani lately... that must be why this week has been so good!

I rolled over and picked up my phone. 6:28. “Time to get up.” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. I sighed and scooted out of bed. Digging my toes in the thick, soft rug that surrounded my bed, I pause, letting my senses finish rebooting.

“Faaannnggg!” A voice whines, the owner snuggled deeper into the covers. “Don’t goooo... you’re so warm and it’s too early!”

I froze, well speak of the devil. Somehow, Tunani’s in my bed. Again. I can’t rid myself of this human equivalent of a disease.

I rolled my eyes, “You already know this. I get up early every morning.”

“Please?” She asked.

“No.” I shot her a cold look. “How did you even get in here?”

She huffed and disappeared into the covers.

“Answer.” My tone booked no argument.

Unearthly sounds escaped from the lump on the bed. Tunani creeped me out in ways I never thought possible.

The lump started to wiggle and a small opening appeared, but nothing came out.

“Fine.” Tunani grumbled from her blanket tomb, “I asked Conner to let me in.”

What? That’s all? I thought there’d be more... weird details. “Asked Conner?” I slowly repeated.

“Yea, he has a key to your room. He uses it whenever he does the weekly search.” She said nonchalantly.

He WHAT? I knew my room was searched, but I didn’t know who did it. Well, now I knew. Conner, the Conner searched my room! I just hoped that he didn’t find any of pictures I’d drawn of him. They were kinda... explicit... and nude.. porn, it was basically porn.

I took a deep breath in, trying to cool the boiling volcano of anger.

“Tunani.” I said through my teeth.

“Yes, my dear Fang?” Her casual singsong voice almost made me snap. Amazing how much she got under my skin.

“How long have you known?”

“Hmm...” I mentally pictured her thinking face, lips puckered and brows furrowed. “I guess about a year now.”

A YEAR? Conner’s been going through my stuff for a whole year? And she never thought to tell me?! This little —ugh!

You know what, breathe Fang. It’s alright, it’s all gonna be alright. Deep breaths in and slowly exhale. You’re doing fine. It’s gonna be perfectly fine, once you murder this stupid leprechaun and bury her far from here.

“Tunani you have ten seconds to get out of my room before I murder you.”

She bolted upright, “What! What do you mean ten seconds? What did I do?!”

I started counting down. “Ten.”

“No!” She screamed, “Fang don’t make me get up, the bed’s warm!”

“Nine.”

“B-but I didn’t do anythi—“

“— eight”

She was on the verge on tears now.

“Fang...” She whispered, giving me puppy dog eyes.

I stopped counting and sighed. I’ve gotten weak. I climbed back into bed and opened my arms. “Come here, you baby.”

Tunani gasped and threw herself straight onto my chest, knocking most of the air from my lungs.

Mental note to never do that again.

Tunani molded herself to me like putty to a counter. It was weird. Right when she got comfortable, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, ‘Director Cur’. I answered it.

“Yes.”

“Come here, I have a assignment for you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

I hung up. That pig didn’t deserve to be called sir. He kissed up to people far too much. He constantly searched for lose money and preyed upon all women within a hundred foot radius. If he had a backbone, it’s surely gone now.

He disgusted every bone in me, I wanted to take a shower just from being in his presence. If we were in the 18th Century, he’d already be dead. His body put on display for all the cowards to see.

Sighing, I pushed Tunani off and climbed out of bed. Again.

“Not again!” Tunani grumbled.

I ignored her and walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Afterward, I put on my super suit ‘Deciever’ and headed to the Director’s office, leaving Tunani fast asleep on my bed.

All Heroes have professionally made suits. Due to each suit being special in its own way, they all have names.

I floated down the seemingly endless halls to the elevator— to be honest it’s an anti-gravity tube, it can take you almost everywhere in the Compound—, clicking the button for the Directors Office immediately after I got in.

“Identify yourself.” A robotic female voice said. That’s Marie, she’s the A.I that was built into the compound, she controls most of the functions of the building. From flushing the toilet to opening the hanger doors, she even has a robot body that she controls.

“Black Rat.” I answered. Yes, I do hate my ID name, but is no accident it’s like that. Conner set it to remind me that I was verman, that I was beneath every Hero here. According to him, all I did was spread filth and disease. Like how rats spread the Black Death, hence the name “Black Rat”.

A couple of seconds passed before Marie spoke again.

“Access granted, the Director has approved you.”

The elevator shot up, reaching its max speed of 86 mph in seven seconds. I barely felt anything going up, only the occasional vibration. After about thirty seconds, the elevator chimed, I’d reached the office.

The moment I stepped off the elevator, I sensed Rend in the Director’s office. This wasn’t good. I stopped at the wooden door and knocked softly before entering, head bowed.

“Yes, Director.”

“About time you got here! Why’d you take so long!” He barked.

I didn’t say anything, it took me eleven minutes to get here. That’s probably the same time it takes for him to get up from that chair.

He cleared his throat, “Well, Miss Rend here,” he gestured to his right, my left, “requested that you join her as an escort on her trip. She also mentioned that you’d turned her down the first time she asked you, for no reason too. Of course, we both know that you made a big mistake!”

Turning to Rend, he greedily smiled at her. “The Black would love to go with you, wouldn’t you B-man?”

That nickname sucked, but I got the message. Say yes or you’ll regret it. Turning to Rend, head still bowed, I addressed her.

“Yes, I would. I made a mistake previously, please forgive me.”

“Of course! All is forgiven.” She chirped, clapping. “And please, call me Erica. I’m so glad you changed your mind! The trip will be fun, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Like hell I will! Erica just moved from #1 on my list of Favorite Heroes, to #1 on my list of Least Favorite Heroes.

“Miss.. Erica.” The Director said, lingering on her name. Absolutely disgusting. “Since this... issue is resolved and I’m sure you have a busy schedule...”

“Oh! Yes!” Erica exclaimed, “I better get going, I’m glad everything’s settled. See you later!”

I moved to let her exit, turning to follow her.

“Not you B-man,” The Director called, “we still need to.. address some issues.”

Dread filled my stomach as I stepped back and closed the office door. As soon as we heard the soft click, it started.

I whimpered as what felt like claws shredded the inside of my body, spreading through my body from the neck, then it disappeared. My vision swam and my legs shook.

“Who, do you think you are?” He spat, “I own you. The only reason you aren’t buried six feet under is because of me! I saved your worthless hide and you repay me by refusing one of the most famous Heroes of all time? I don’t care what Erica wants, if she asks you to do something then you say yes!” He took several breaths, calming a little.

“Even if you have to give your body, not that anyone would want it, you still say yes. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” I whispered

“What was that?”

“Yes!” I repeated, louder this time.

Another wave of pain doubled me over, lingering longer than the previous. I gasped through my clenched teeth.

“Yes.. what?”

“Yes sir.”

He laughed, “That’s more like it! Now,” He gestured towards the door, “get out of my sight.”

I opened the door and stumbled out. No one else was in sight. Thank goodness, I don’t want to be seen like... like this. Weak and pathetic.

I wish I could fight back, but a special collar fastened around my neck limited my powers. The invisible collar was placed when they first captured me, a permanent reminder that I was owned, a mere pet. A collar that shocked its wearer when they dare bark.

I reached the elevator, entered, and slid down to the floor. I felt so tired. No matter how much I pretended, reality struck. I am chained to this compound.

“Maybe... it’ll work this time...” I barely recognized my own voice, it sounded different somehow.

Maybe... just maybe. I scoffed aloud, what was I thinking. That wasn’t the answer, it never was and never would be. I should know, I’ve tried it several times already. It’s foolhardy to think that this instance would be the golden ticket.

My emotions were getting out of hand. Taking a deep breath I pictured a safe. I bundled up my emotions like sheets and threw them into the safe, where they couldn’t escape. Then I closed and locked it.

“Where too?” Maire asked.

“Take me to the Dormitory, I need to pack.”

Anyone watching the elevator would’ve seen Fang exit, devoid of all emotion.

Like usual.

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@prettylittledemonbitch @karnelphan @hugo-vinther @idreamonpaper @theguildedtypewriter @feathered-quill @lilamina @editedandwrittenbyhannah

#fangwolf #tunani #theblack #A Jumbled Drive #thanks for reading #anything i need to improve?#i need HELP #writing help #but money is fine too

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minniethemoocherda · 6 years ago

Text

A Night to Remember

A/N A birthday gift for @roninreverie. A sequel to her amazing fic Eyeliner

“Now remember if anyone asks why we’re linking arms, it’s because you blinded yourself putting on that eyeliner and didn’t want to accidently walk of a balcony, ok?” Eli reminded Thrawn sternly, trying to hide his nerves as the elevator took them to the gala.

“I understand Cadet Vanto.” Thrawn said calmly, his red eyeliner shining proudly under his luminous eyes. His appearance contrasted entirely to Eli who was fairly certain that the Chiss could feel his nerves vibrating through them from where their arms were linked. He wondered if it was physically possible for the Chiss, Thrawn or his species, to even feel nervous.

The elevator pinged to announce that it had reached its destination which did nothing to help Eli’s nerves.

“Breathe.” Thrawn reminded him, his voice sounding softer than usual to Eli’s ears.

Taking his friend’s advice he took a deep breathe. His speeding heart calmed slightly as the doors slid open to reveal a lavish ballroom. It was situated on the highest level of one of Coruscant’s many skyscrapers with balconies that looked over the entire city and was entirely decorated with noteworthy artefacts. Eli fondly noticed how Thrawn’s gaze assessed them all. It was beautiful.

The same however could not be said for the people in the room. Sure physically a lot of them were admittedly very stunning with gorgeous outfits but Eli had been forced to identify core world snobs early in his life and nearly everyone in this room made alarm bells ring inside his head.

Swallowing his nerves, Eli’s grip tightened on Thrawn’s arm as they entered the ballroom. Nobody paid them much attention at first, too busy wrapped up in their own snobbish egos. But it didn’t take long for people to notice the only blue skinned being in a room of varying shades of white and brown.

As they walked deeper into the room soon everyone in their vacancy had stopped to stare. Eli felt like an animal on parade at a zoo as they pointed and jeered. Every direction he turned his head people were whispering loudly into each other’s ears, not bothering to hide their gossiping. Eli wasn't sure of it was because of Thrawn's species or his make up or both.

However despite their intrigue no one seemed willing to talk to the pair directive. They even either concisely or subconsciously left at least two metres of space between them until Eli and Thrawn were trapped in the middle of an empty circle. That was until one man stepped forwards

By his perfectly chiselled face and ice-blue eyes Eli able to immediately recognise the man from the numerous propaganda holovids he had been forced to watch as Lieutenant Colonel Senjax.

Everyone, including Eli waited with bated breath as he strolled towards them, a pretty young blonde not far behind him as she held onto his arm in a similar fashion to how Eli had hold of Thrawn’s.

"So you must by the Emperor’s new pet.” Senjax stated with a cruel smile that was very different from the million credit beam he wore in his holovids. Around them people chuckled and the blonde woman even giggled. Eli found himself once again asking the maker why he hadn’t given humans the ability to turn invisible.

"Pet?" Thrawn blinked, apparently not having come across the term in basic before.

"An animal someone keeps for companionship." Eli told him automatically. He wished he hadn't opened his mouth however when Senjax along with everyone else’s eyes swerved to him at the sound of his wild space accent.

"And you must be his handler." Senjax drawled.

Eli bristled at the comment but tried to hide it with a forced smile although he doubted it was very effective. He was wondering how to answer when Thrawn spoke for him.

"Apologies, but I am not a pet nor he my handler. We are cadets at The Imperial Academy."

Eli was a mixture of relieved and worried when Senjax once again turned his attention back to the non-human. Somehow the man’s smile had gotten even crueller.

"Is that where you learned to do this?" He said gesturing to the line of red under Thrawn's eyes. “Do they teach you how to paint your nails whilst gossiping about boys there too?”

Eli felt an unexpected surge of anger inside him at the man's words. He might agree with the man that the make-up was a bit ridiculous but wearing it made Thrawn happy which was all that mattered in Eli's mind.

He wasn't sure what words would have come out of his mouth if Thrawn hadn't spoken first once again.

"I do not understand." He said, the slight turn of his head that most people would miss but after being around him for so long Eli had come to recognise as a sign of the Chiss' confusion.

"Well there’s a surprise. Dumb aliens." Senjax muttered to the blonde under his breath. Eli had never considered himself a violent person but he was seriously considering punching the smug smile of the man's face.

"No, what I do not understand is why you are mocking me for wearing make-up when you are wearing make-up yourself."

Turns out punching the man wasn't necessary as those words made his smile disappear in an instant.

"I...what...I am not!" Senjax stuttered. But now Thrawn had pointed it out, it was impossible for him not to notice the dusting of foundation across the man's face. And Eli wasn't the only one. All around them, the people that had once been staring at Thrawn now turned their gaze to Senjax. Eli didn't feel any sympathy as they started whispering as the vile man instead. The blonde woman even snorted a laugh.

Senjax growled, sounding just like the animal he’d claimed Thrawn to be.

"You filthy-"

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off as a new man joined their conversation.

"Leitenanut Cololonel Senjax”

Eli’s mouth nearly dropped open. Standing proudly next to them was Colonel Yularen. He'd looked up to the man ever since he'd driven the Separatists from his home planet of Lysatra. And his admiration had only grown with his rallying speeches on the holonet.

"Colonel Yularen sir." Senjax stumbled, immediately standing to attention. The crowd that had gathered around them instantaneously dispersed, not wanting to get reprimanded by the Colonel. Although it was clear that some of them wished they could stay to eavesdrop. Senjax's date was amongst them leaving the man defenceless.

"I hear Admiral Konstantine has been looking for you." Yularen said in a commanding voice. Eli thought about the idea that Yularen had only said that to protect them from the lieutenant’s jeers but despite how much he admired him, he still doubted that a respected Coruscanti man like Yularen would actually try to save people like him and Thrawn.

"I...yes...I'll go find him." Senjax stammered. Not a moment later he fled the scene, like one of the criminals in his holovids.

Once the man was gone Yularen diverted his attention to Eli and Thrawn.

"Ah Cadet Thrawn and Cadet Vanto. I am Colonel Yularen, it's a please to finally meet you." He said in a kinder tone than the one he’d used on Senjax. He held out his hand and Eli was a little star struck as he shook it. The shake was firm but the twinkle in his grey eyes was kind. It was then that was when Eli knew that he was just as strong yet warm hearted as he'd imagined.

"I’ve heard great things about the pair of you. I know you're going to make the Empire proud." He said heartily.

"Thank you sir." Eli blushed.

"Yes thank you," Thrawn echoed in a slightly colder tone as his arm tightened his grip around Eli's elbow. Eli thought it was a little odd but eventually decided that Thrawn must still be upset over senjax's words.

Fortunately Yularen didn't seem to notice as he was too busy glanced at their intertwined arms with a subtle smile.

“Come,” The man told them kindly. “Let me introduce you to some folks who would love to meet you.”

Eli glanced up at Thrawn to find those large red eyes already looking down at him. Eli easily read Thrawn’s small change of expression as those blue arches rose higher on his head as he silently asked Eli if this man was trustworthy. Eli nodded in response.

“We would greatly appreciate that Colonel.” Thrawn responded. The old man smiled.

Eli still clung to Thrawn’s arm as Yularen waltzed them around the ballroom. The Colonel introduced them to a lot of influential people, making sure to state how they were the best in their classes and that the Emperor himself had insisted Thrawn join the Academy here on Coruscant. The people who Yularen introduced them too were mostly other colonels and generals although some were senators and politicians. Surprisingly most of them didn’t seem bothered by Thrawn’s species or Eli’s accent, instead finding the pair genuinely interesting. Eli quickly guessed that this the reason Yularen had decided to introduce them to these people in particular. However some of them seemed a little bit too interested for Eli’s liking.

One woman in particular appeared especially interested in Thrawn. She was a senator of some kind with long raven hair and honey brown eyes that roamed all over the Chiss’ body. Eli subconsciously held Thrawn’s arm even tighter and moved closer so that he was almost pressed against the other man’s side.

Suddenly the host of the gala stood up on a large pedestal in the middle of the ballroom, immediately silencing any conversations. Eli’s attention drifted as she droned on about how great the Empire was and how happy she was to see everyone here showing their support. Although by the ways her eyes lingered on him and Thrawn, he guessed that she was more happy to see some people here than others. Eventually her speech came to an end as everyone raised their glasses to toast to the long reign of the Emperor. Eli savoured the taste of alcohol down his throat. He knew that he was probably going to end up drinking a lot more before the night was over.

Once she left the pedestal the band that up until this point had been completely silent started playing a slow moving melody that reminded Eli of the life day hymns the used to sign back on his home world.

“It has been a pleasure meeting you both however I have a dance reserved with the senator of Mykapo and I’d hate to keep her waiting. I hope you have a splendid night.” Yularen said tom them with a knowing look in his eye before heading off to find his senator. His words caused Eli to realise how all round them people sorted themselves into pairs as they made their way into the centre of the ballroom to dance. He stood awkwardly next to Thrawn unsure of what to do. He doubted many people wanted to dance with the wild space yokel.

He was about to suggest to Thrawn that maybe they would go sit by the bar when the raven haired governor interrupted him.

“How about a dance red eyes?” She suggested in a sultry voice, stroking her hand up and down Thrawn’s free arm. Eli felt bad for feeling satisfied as Thrawn moved away from the woman and into his side.

“I am grateful for your offer however Cadet Vanto is already my dance partner.” Thrawn stated, walking away from the woman.

Eli knew it was childish but couldn’t help sending a smug smile over his shoulder as she glared at their retreating forms.

“Nice save.” Eli whispered into Thrawn’s ear, assuming that the Chiss had just created an excuse so that he didn’t have to dance with that woman. But when Thrawn turned to face him, he had a surprisingly disappointed expression on his face.

“I do not understand why ‘nice save’ is a suitable term for this context. As we arrived together I assumed that this would also make us dance partners.”

“Oh.” Eli said, unsure for a moment what to think. He contemplated explaining to Thrawn that just because they came together didn’t necessary make them dance partner. Especially since they weren’t a couple. But after a few moments he decided against it as Thrawn looked so genuinely dejected at the prospect of not experiencing another fascinating aspect of human culture and it wasn’t as though Eli’s night could get any more embarrassing.

“Then sure, I would love to dance with you.”

Thrawn’s face brightened with the largest smile Eli had ever seen him wear.

“Likewise, Cadet Vanto.” Thrawn said as he led him on the dancefloor.

“Call me Eli.” The human blushed as blue arms wrapped in white silk circled his waist.

“Eli.” Thrawn said, tasting the name on his thin tongue, making Eli blush even harder.

Embarrassed he tried to avoid Thrawn’s gaze as he placed his hands that were broader than a man who had spent the last few years in exile ought to be. Not that Eli was complaining. But he found that trying to avoid looking into those glowing red eyes were impossible, especially with the way the eyeliner made them ‘pop’.

Eli was surprised to find that Thrawn’s eyes mirrored his. Gazing into his large brown orbs as though they held the key to the universe. Their eyes stayed locked in each other’s eyes for the rest of the night.

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