#desperately clawing for some kind of human interaction that satisfies me enough to last into next week

[confinedinthisflesh]

i crave friendship

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 1 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Oh hi. Welcome to the Galactica sequel that I’ve been planning FOREVER. Like...literally since the time these two started interacting on Twitter, during season 10. Thanks to @artificialpuddle for the beta help, and @aqcitrus for brainstorming with me. <3

And of course, a HUGE thanks to @theartificialdane, for humoring me the whole way through and letting me explore this ship in the Galactica verse. It is mostly fluffy, fluffy shit, which is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I love them so much and I just want them to be happy.

I think it can easily be read as a stand-alone story. The only thing you need to know from Galactica is that at this point in the story, Courtney is a wildly successful queer pop star and star of a fictional Disney franchise called ‘Glimmer,’ which costars Honey Mahogany as her love interest.

Challenge Notes:

Story is told mostly from Vixen’s POV

Her BFFs: Asia, Monet, Monique, Mayhem (who show up in person in Chapter 2)

The title is a song by Cree Summer. I’ve also made a playlist for this story, which can be found here.

#Vixney4Eva

TW: vague reference to past transphobia, sexual apprehension/nervousness that should in NO WAY be construed as dubcon

***

It was Honey who introduced them. Or, rather, Honey who handed Courtney the book that started everything, on the set of Glimmer 3.

BEWARE WHITE TEARS: Performativity and Racial Justice, by Toni “Vixen” Taylor enthralled Courtney so much that she barely slept for 3 nights, devouring it twice. And then she read the whole thing again, slowly, highlighting the parts that blew her mind the most.

On set, when she just couldn’t stop raving about it, Honey laughed at her.

“So...you liked it?”

“Omigod, yes!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean, obviously I feel very called out. But in a good way? Like...this is making me rethink everything.”

“That’s good! I thought maybe you’d be offended,” Honey said, adjusting her crown.

“Offended? How long have we known each other?” Courtney giggled, bumping Honey with her hip. It was true: they’d been co-starring in the Glimmer franchise for 8 years at that point.

“Still.”

“But god, Honey, it was just...I mean, I don’t even have any words for how amazing it was. She’s so fucking smart and passionate, and so funny, and everything she says is like…” Courtney shook her head, starry-eyed.

“You should tell her,” Honey said with a saucy wink. “Send her a tweet or something.”

“She’s not gonna care what I think,” Courtney said. “I mean, hello? Chapter 4?”

“Okay, but she’s a professor. She’ll be thrilled that someone learned something. Besides, even if she doesn’t respond, maybe you’ll encourage your fans to read it.”

“That’s true…”

“And maybe get more people to listen to her podcast-”

“She has a podcast?!!” Courtney shrieked excitedly, then whispered, “Sorry,” when she saw the boom operator cringe.

Maybe Honey was right...but what should she say?

***

Vixen felt absolutely silly. There was really no reason for attention from a celebrity to make her so giddy. True, there’d been a phase when she hung on Courtney Act’s every word--but that was years ago. Early in her transition, when she felt like nothing she did was right. When she was desperate for any voice telling her that who she was was okay.

It was different now. She was 30 year old, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t need validation from anyone anymore, especially not a pop-star-come-Disney-princess. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone who asked.

But to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got when she saw that first notification on her phone. The mild anxiety all day as she taught two lectures and graded a handful of thesis proposals--a nagging thought in the back of her mind wondering how she should reply. It wasn’t until late into the evening, after 2 glasses of wine, that she allowed herself to read it again, slowly typing out a reply.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 15h Just read @professorvixtaylor’s “Beware White Tears” and my mind is BLOWN. Everyone needs to read this game-changing book. E V E R Y O N E!!!! It’s so good, so informative, so powerful. AND I just found out that she has! A! Podcast!! #obsessed <3 <3 <3 <3

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Glad you found it interesting! Thanks for the plug.

That was fine, right? Very chill. She went to sleep feeling pretty satisfied with herself. It wasn’t until the following morning when she saw Courtney’s response.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 6h Replying to @professorvixtaylor That is the understatement of the year!!! I LOVED it! You are BRILLIANT. I just listened to the first episode of your podcast and holy shit...it’s phenomenal.

Vixen put down her phone, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was shallow and cheap--being this enchanted by obviously exaggerated praise. But still...not a bad way to start the day.

***

Vixen was used to fighting. All of her life, it seemed, she’d had to prove herself. Scrape and claw for her voice to be heard. Shout into the void over and over, praying that someone would eventually listen. Demand attention and bang down doors and yell until she was hoarse.

Having someone at Courtney’s level of fame pay attention to her--emphatically describe her as brilliant, incisive, powerful, mind-blowing--Vixen’s impulse, in the beginning, was to lie. To say she didn’t need that kind of validation from anyone, especially a rich, famous, beautiful white girl. The embodiment of privilege. Someone whose coming out was celebrated in the media like a massive human rights achievement. Because how could someone like that ever really get it?

But on the other hand…she had to hand it to Courtney. She had excellent taste in podcasts.

And there was something soothing about a person who didn’t expect her to prove anything. Someone who respected her from the jump, who engaged with her book and her podcasts from a place of dignity, assuming that she knew what she was talking about. She didn’t demand back-up or further explanations when she came across material that was confusing. She did the work herself, looking up the articles and studies Vixen cited, posting them with a quote when something in particular caught her attention.

So reluctantly, over the next month or two, Vixen found herself warming to the idea of a real dialogue. It was January 1st, sitting on her grandmother’s plastic-covered sofa, when Vixen finally bit the bullet and slipped into Courtney’s DMs, so to speak.

Courtney had been tweeting up a storm over the holidays. Gobbling up her podcasts rapidly and hungrily, heaping her and her guests with praise and incidentally, making her subscriber numbers climb. She opened a direct message window, typing out a message that she hoped would make Courtney laugh.

@professorvixtaylor: Alright, already. This is getting embarrassing...

The response came within minutes.

@courtneyact: LOL! Listen, nobody ever accused me of a lack of enthusiasm.

@professorvixtaylor: I bet not ;)

It took one afternoon of DMs before Courtney gave Vixen her phone number. “Twitter’s great, but it’s probably easier to just text, right?”

Well.

Vixen had to admit, she had a point.

***

“So listen,” Latrice said, heaving a deep sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you this. Like, I really, really hate it.”

“Oh shit,” Courtney said, wrapping herself in a blanket and preparing herself for whatever horrible news her manager was about to deliver. “Go ahead…”

“This isn’t coming from me, okay? It’s coming from Disney.”

“Just tell me, Latrice. What? Is the tour cancelled? Do they hate the new video? Do we need to do reshoots? What?”

“No, all that’s fine. They just...they’re a little uncomfortable about your interactions with this Vixen person.”

“Why?” Courtney sat up, ready to get extremely annoyed, extremely fast.

“Well, it’s just...she’s apparently got some very radical ideas, and-”

“So? Maybe they’re amazing ideas? Have you read the book?” Courtney countered.

Latrice sighed.

“Courtney, listen. It’s just...not what they want while they’re trying to promote this last movie.”

“It’s a movie that ends with a gay interracial marriage!” Courtney exclaimed. “So why the fuck do they have a problem with me complimenting a Black political science professor on Twitter?! This is beyond idiotic, Latrice, you have to admit that! And by the way, I’m not gonna stop. She’s amazing and her book is important and more people should know about her, and if they want to fire me, then fine!” Courtney’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath.

There was a pause before Latrice spoke again.

“I assumed this would be your response.”

“Yeah, so. Now what?!”

“Now, I tell them that you feel very strongly about this, and that you’re not breaching any contract, and if they try to silence you on this issue, you’re prepared for a very public, very embarrassing fight,” Latrice said.

“Okay…” Courtney waited for the catch.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll drop it.”

“Just like that?” Courtney asked, confused. She’d gotten herself well and riled up, prepared for a real battle.

“Yeah, baby,” Latrice said. “Just like that. Chalk it up to white privilege.”

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at that, head falling back on the sofa cushions.

“Good one, ma’am.”

After they hung up, Courtney opened Instagram, delighted that Vixen had updated her story. It was just a casual picture, her and two other professors getting ready to speak at a round table discussion. Courtney smiled, replying to the picture with heart eyes and the question, ‘Is that top from my collection?’

She responded a little while later, while Courtney was on the elliptical, saying, ‘I was hoping you’d notice. ;)’

Courtney giggled to herself, wondering when she’d get to meet this amazing, glowingly beautiful woman. All she wanted was to finally talk, face to face. Maybe in the spring, when her tour hit Chicago? Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, couldn’t happen soon enough.

***

It may very well have been a love letter, Vixen thought, finding her cheeks blazing hot at the thought. She’d woken up to a video posted on Courtney’s Twitter feed. “How To Be a Race Ally.”

Vixen watched the whole video with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was great, actually. Humble and informative. Cleverly incorporating some of the points from her podcast (with proper credit given) and even some things she’d said over text recently (also with credit, and a wink straight into the camera that made Vixen feel things she wasn’t prepared for at 7:30 in the morning).

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Okay fine, you can come to the cookout.

As usual, Courtney's response was lightning fast, an emoji wearing a party hat and about 10 exclamation points. Vixen couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit more.

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact I don’t know how vegan-friendly it’ll be, though.  

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 1m Replying to @professorvixtaylor You really think I’m there for the food? ;P

Vixen rose from her bed, an almost giddy feeling filling her chest. She really needed to calm the fuck down. What was with this silly schoolgirl behavior? And on a public platform? Every interaction ran the risk of absolutely ruining the street cred she’d spent years building up. (Monet was already making it her personal mission to screenshot every exchange and then tease her mercilessly, and Asia had begun to join in.)

Besides, what were the odds that it would ever be anything but a short-lived flirtation? Courtney was bound to become captivated by something else soon. An animal rights group, perhaps. Or funding for the arts in public schools. There were a billion issues competing for her attention. How long would Vixen’s moment in the sun possibly last?

And yet, when Courtney tweeted that she was on her way to New York, Vixen found herself taking a shot of liquid courage and then sending a text.

VIXEN: Hey...how long are you gonna be in New York?

COURTNEY: A couple of weeks, why?

VIXEN: Well, I have a conference at Columbia on February 23, and then I’m gonna stay for a few days. Maybe we could meet up?

COURTNEY: YES

COURTNEY: I mean, sure. Sounds lovely. Tell me what day you’re free. <3

***

It was strange, seeing Courtney in person after all this time. As much as Vixen enjoyed chatting with her, and as validating as it was to get so much attention, she had reminded herself over and over again that this was all just friendly banter. A bit of lighthearted flirting, maybe, but the possibility of a genuine romantic connection was absolutely out of the question.

But then.

When Courtney first emerged from the elevators, smile bright, it was like time ceased to be linear. Nothing...not pictures, not video, not even that concert she’d attended all those years ago, prepared her for how heart-stoppingly beautiful she was in person.

Vixen stood, in slow motion, knees shaking a little, suddenly hugely aware of her height. Was Courtney always this little? Why had Vixen worn heels?

It must have taken Courtney less than 10 seconds to cross the lobby to where Vixen stood, but for some reason, it felt like 10 years. Excruciatingly slow, and yet somehow, Vixen was still caught off guard as she bounded up and grasped both of her hands.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Courtney exclaimed, that dazzling smile still on her face. “It’s amazing to finally be in the same room!”

“Yeah, it’s…” Vixen offered a smile of her own, swallowing hard. Her hands were warm and soft, and as Vixen gazed down at her, she could feel her heart racing faster than ever. “How was your day?”

“Crazy…” Courtney linked an arm through Vixen’s, leading her towards the hotel bar.

It took a concerningly short time for all the weirdness to dissipate, for Vixen to forget that she was across the table from a celebrity, a person she’d been following for years, a person that she’d idolized at one point in her life.

She was just a girl. Granted, she was a beautiful girl, but one who seemed incredibly excited, even honored, to be talking to Vixen—about her book, her podcast, her life. Where she came from and what she cared about and who she looked up to. A girl who wanted to get to know her.

After awhile, when Vixen was finally relaxed enough to really open up, she told Courtney about hearing ‘Kaleidoscope’ for the first time. How, at that point in her transition, it made all the difference in the world to see Courtney so open about the fluidity of gender and sexuality. To hear those magical words. ‘This is who we are.’

Courtney nodded along, listening to her, tears filling her eyes. She covered Vixen’s hand with her own, and said, “I needed it too.”

As the hours ticked by, they talked about everything. Passion, art, travel, identity. She wanted to know when Vixen began to question her own gender, how she knew that she wanted to transition. She was delighted by the story of her brief foray into drag during the early college years, the source of her now permanent nickname. In spite of all the questions (or maybe because of them), for once, Vixen felt like she wasn’t on the defensive. She found herself being more sincere and honest about all of it than she’d been in a long time.

“I’m not usually this open,” she admitted at one point.

Courtney laughed, eyes glittering, and said, “I’m usually too open.”

“I think you’re just right,” Vixen replied, giving her a generous smile.

They talked about their childhoods. How much she loved pretend and fantasy as a kid.

“I went through a phase—that’s generous, it was like 3 years—where I really wanted to be a dragon. I had this dumb...dragon hoodie, that I wore all the time. And when I finally grew out of it, I cried.”

“Aww,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I think I just really, really didn’t want to be me.”

Courtney took in a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower.

“I’m not gonna pretend that I really get it. Everything you’re talking about. I don’t know if I ever could. But...I get that part.”

Vixen raised an eyebrow.

“You? How do you get it?” Vixen let out a chuckle. “I’m not trying to judge you, but I just...look at you. You’re this perfect, sparkly princess. Everything the world wants a girl to be.”

“Yeah...I see what you’re saying. But...sometimes it feels like that’s all the world wants. Is the sparkly princess part. And I’m more than that. Or, I hope I am. But…” Courtney trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Do I sound really dumb?”

“You don’t sound dumb. You sound like a very intelligent, thoughtful...sparkly princess.”

Courtney threw back her head and laughed.

“I can’t believe you laughed at that,” Vixen said with a shake of her head. “It was such a cheap shot.”

“Well, I’m an easy laugh,” Courtney said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Yeah I’ve heard that about you,” Vixen couldn’t help saying, and Courtney’s giggles continued.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes burning in the dim light, with matching, goofy grins decorating their faces, until Vixen broke, shaking her head.

“This is so surreal…”

“How so?” Courtney asked, voice lilting in a way that felt almost like a tease, resting a chin on her hand.

Vixen hesitated. It felt so cliché to say that it was because Courtney was famous, or because she once cried at her concert when she was 23.

“I mean...you’re not even really my type,” she finally answered with a small shrug.

“Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Ummm...I normally go for curvy Latinas,” Vixen said, lashes fluttering.

Courtney’s eyes widened, smile deepening, as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, me too!”

They both started laughing again, clinking glasses for good measure.

“So, um...do you have to go back to Chicago tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I decided to stay a few more days,” Vixen replied. “See some shows, meet up with some friends. There’s this museum in Brooklyn that I’ve been dying to check out for years.”

“What museum?” Courtney asked.

“It’s, uh, called the Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts,” Vixen said. “Kind of a mouthful but-”

“Sounds great. I wish I could see it.”

“You wanna come? I’m going tomorrow after lunch.”

“Ugh, I wish!” Courtney said, stretching her neck. “But the press tour schedule is insane. I’m doing two more interviews tomorrow, and then I fly to LA to kick off the tour.”

“Tough breaks.” Vixen tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound sarcastic.

“Listen, I’m not complaining. I’m very lucky.” Courtney smiled, tilting her head. “But it would’ve been cool to see that museum.”

“Next time,” Vixen promised.

“I’m holding you to that,” Courtney said, gaze fixed on Vixen’s face as she downed the rest of her drink.

Vixen gave a small nod, finding her eyes hypnotic. Surreal indeed.

They ordered yet another round as hotel patrons trickled out, crowd thinning, closing time approaching. By the time they stood up to leave, they’d knocked back quite a few--more than Vixen realized at the time. She grabbed Courtney’s arm to steady her as the blonde swayed in her heels.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm…” Courtney gazed up at her, lashes fluttering.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“Okay…”

In the elevator, Courtney wrapped her arms around Vixen’s waist, leaning a head on her shoulder. Vixen’s heart hammered in her chest, one hand gripping the railing for support.

At the door, Courtney looked up at her, eyes bright, breathing out, “You know, we don’t have to be up until 10 tomorrow…”

“What are you…‘we?’”

It took Vixen a moment to catch on to her train of thought, a wave of nerves washing over her.

“Listen. Um. I think you’re great,” she began, wincing as she saw Courtney’s blissful expression crumble. “But...I just, I never hook up with girls who’ve been drinking. It’s just…”

Vixen didn’t want to explain the whole story. The girl in the lesbian bar, years ago, who danced with her all night, flirting and rubbing against her, inviting her back to her apartment. Only, when they began to undress, and it became clear that Vixen’s body was a little different, the girl flipped a switch. Went from a delightful buzz to drunken rage. Accused her of taking advantage, called her...Vixen didn’t even want to think about that. Or about how she’d left her apartment as fast as possible, terrified and choking back tears. How at home, she’d collapsed into Asia’s arms and sobbed most of the night, wondering if she’d ever fit in, anywhere.

Courtney wasn’t that girl in the bar—Vixen knew that. But she was clearly tipsy, and some things, some decisions, required a clear head.

“It’s not you,” she finished lamely. “You’re amazing.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing her disappointment like a champ and saying, “You’re amazing.”

Before she left, Vixen leaned in and brushed her lips against Courtney’s cheek.

She walked toward the elevator, regret stinging the back of her throat. She had no idea how long it would be before they saw each other again, and suddenly her arbitrary rules based on one shitty asshole in a bar 7 years ago seemed...absurd. She turned back around. Courtney was still leaning in her open doorway, watching her walk away.

“Hey, how drunk are you, actually? Can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” Vixen asked.

“No—” Courtney said, brow furrowed.

“Oh.” Vixen’s heart deflated a bit.

“—Because we don’t have the Pledge of Allegiance in Australia.”

“Right,” Vixen laughed.

“But what about, um, okay...so...here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't-”

Vixen strode forward and silenced her with a kiss, soft and sweet, almost chaste at first, both of them giggling. As the kiss deepened, Vixen grabbed Courtney around the waist and pushed her backward into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

Vixen was so enamoured that she barely registered Courtney’s massive hotel suite, the entry hall or huge living room that Courtney led her through on the way to the bedroom. Guiding her by her hips to the bed, Courtney pushed her into a seated position and stood between her legs, chasing her lips as she took hold of her collar, fingering the little pearl buttons down the front of her shirt dress.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Vixen nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Courtney’s heavy-lidded eyes as she quickly opened the buttons, skin prickling as she pushed it off Vixen’s shoulders. She kissed Vixen again, deep and messy, sucking on her bottom lip.

Panting, Vixen reached around, fumbling for Courtney’s zipper. Once she pulled it down a few inches, the cotton dress easily came off over her head, and then there she was, standing in front of Vixen in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties.

Vixen swallowed, eyes sweeping over Courtney’s body, dying to touch her but nervous as all fuck.

“Listen, um...I should tell you…”

Courtney paused mid-way through opening Vixen’s belt to look at her curiously, face earnest and alert. The perfect student.

Vixen sighed. The fact that Courtney was so willing to listen, so considerate, should have been a bonus. But in this moment, it just made her feel startlingly inadequate. She hated this. The feeling of not being enough, or being too much. She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she was about to make herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been, and she was terrified.

“So...Okay, um. I guess...it’s just been a long time since...I was with a girl.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney said, grinning.

“No. A really long time,” Vixen said.

“Okay. Does that mean you don’t want-”

“No!” Vixen burst out, a little too emphatically, and then lowered her eyes bashfully, adding in a calmer voice, “No, I want to be with you, I just...might be a little out of practice.” It was an understatement, a lie of omission that unsettled Vixen’s stomach a bit. But it was all she felt comfortable with revealing at the moment, and she hoped that she’d be forgiven later.

“Hmm…” Courtney took Vixen’s face in her hands, tilting her chin up. “I think I can work with that…”

She bent down to kiss her again, soft as a whisper, fingers stroking Vixen’s cheekbones, before pulling back and gazing down at her.

“God,” Courtney breathed, “You are so beautiful.”

Vixen took in a shaky breath, her hands finally lifting to slide around Courtney’s hips. Something about the way Courtney looked at her was different than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d been the object of lust before, and sometimes very much enjoyed it. But this was more than that. She felt more than sexy, more even than beautiful. She felt seen.

But for once, rather than get all wrapped up in anxiety about what it meant, Vixen acted on instinct. She gripped Courtney's waist and pulled her forward, flinging her onto her back on bed. Courtney squealed delightedly, pulling her along.

Courtney smiled up at her, reaching a hand out but then pausing, letting her fingers rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“Am I allowed to touch your hair? ‘Cause I’ve heard...”

Vixen couldn’t help laughing as she nodded and said, “That rule doesn’t really apply here.”

“Okay,” Courtney giggled, fingering her twists gently.

Vixen turned her head, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s wrist, then slowly moving up her arm, and finally nuzzling into her shoulder. Her skin smelled fresh and almost sweet, like she’d recently been in a doughnut shop. It wasn’t sugary like some kind of food-based perfume or soap, just a gentle, vague deliciousness that Vixen became addicted to immediately, burying her face into her neck to inhale deeply.

She found a soft, tender spot, just below Courtney’s ear, that made her sigh when kissed, and began to suck. Courtney inhaled sharply, hips thrusting up against Vixen’s, hands tightening in her hair.

“You like that?” Vixen asked, emboldened, hands sliding up from her waist to scratch gently at her ribcage.

“Uh huh,” Courtney breathed, arching up again as Vixen kissed her, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. A whimper fell from her lips.

Vixen’s dress was half off at this point, pushed down around her waist, and when Courtney’s fingers began to trail lightly up and down her back, she shivered. Courtney pushed the dress further down, wriggling it over Vixen’s hips to her thighs, and Vixen pulled it off the rest of the way.

She was expecting to feel uncomfortably exposed, both of them now just in their panties—a situation she hadn’t found herself in with a woman is a very fucking long time. Especially a woman she liked this much. But instead of feeling awkward, she found her pulse racing with excitement, nearly breathless in anticipation of what might come next.

She realized that she’d been frozen for a few moments when Courtney raised herself up on her elbows and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vixen nodded, and Courtney sat up further, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“You want to take a break? Slow things down?”

“No,” Vixen said simply, slipping her fingers under the sides of Courtney’s panties. Her hips lifted, allowed Vixen to slide them off easily, heart in her throat when she saw how glistening wet she was already. She knew that she was potentially in over her head, but there was also a strong urge to keep going, pulse racing with desire.

“Come here.” Courtney stretched out her arm, pulling Vixen in for a kiss, tongues tangling together. She rolled Vixen over, onto her back, grinding down against her.

As much as Vixen wanted to please her, ceding control to Courtney felt liberating. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Courtney lavished her with affection, layering kisses against her skin. When a warm tongue swirled over her nipple, her hips jerked up, a stifled moan escaping from her throat.

Courtney sucked harder on her nipple, hands sliding down her torso, lips following as they trailed over Vixen’s tense abdomen. She hooked her fingers into the sides of Vixen’s panties and then looked up questioningly.

“Can I...?”

“Go ahead,” Vixen replied, straining to raise her hips, finding her core muscles in a weakened state, skin so flushed and hot that for a moment, she barely remembered to be self-conscious. Until Courtney began to slide her panties down, and suddenly she remembered exactly what she’d been dreading. When the reality of who she was would confront Courtney, more than theoretical, more than an idea.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched Courtney’s face. If she had any qualms about a girl with a dick, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply continued to suck soft kisses into her skin, warm hands resting on her thighs.

Vixen finally relaxed backwards, eyes falling shut. She let go of all her worries, all her stupid insecurities. At least for now. At least while Courtney took her dick into her mouth, tongue flicking delicately at her. Vixen’s hips thrust upwards, hands gripping the comforter tightly, moans dripping from her lips like honey.

It had been so achingly long since anyone had touched her this way. Maybe no one ever had, she realized as she arched into the soft caresses. She’s certainly never experienced this kind of loving attention from a woman, a woman treating her like she was precious and beautiful, turning her into a gasping, quivering mess. Vixen felt herself falling apart quickly, losing control, nearly gone before she had the wherewithal to choke out a pained warning.

“I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Mmhmmm…” Courtney made no move to stop, swirling her tongue again, then taking her deeper, sucking harder.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen moaned, hips pumping uncontrollably as she came, gasping for air.

The way Courtney’s hands stroked her thighs, continued to suck softly as she melted backwards into the pillows, every muscle in her body going slack--the small part of her that was still conscious shivered with delight, thrilled with the feeling of being spoiled.

It wasn’t until her body was completely still, bones feeling like jelly, when Courtney began to work her way up her body once again, hands sliding over her skin until she came nose to nose with her once again.

Courtney smiled, kissing her cheeks, down along her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Lips rousing her from a state of sheer exhaustion into warm, sleepy affection. Her hands circled Courtney's waist.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Courtney murmured.

“Uh huh.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she pressed more kisses against her.

Vixen sighed contentedly, pulling her in close, not caring how clingy and pathetic she might seem, just wanting the warmth of Courtney’s body against her own. Courtney snuggled into her arms, slipping to the side of her, legs still tangled together.

After a few slow, lazy kisses, Vixen started to sense a shift. Courtney’s breath grew hot and ragged, hips rutting against her. She cautiously moved a hand down, working it in between her thighs, fingers seeking out her wet heat.

“Show me what you want,” she urged, desire to give Courtney pleasure finally outweighing her fear of looking like an amateur.

Courtney lifted her head, giving her a sleepy grin and reaching down to guide her. She patiently showed Vixen exactly where to touch her, what to do to tease her, when to speed up and circle her clit, how deep for her fingers to go and exactly how to curl them to make her tremble. Vixen followed her breathless instructions, guided by Courtney’s own hand, thrilled at the way her body responded.

Soon, Courtney’s eyes were rolled back, muscles straining, tits brushing against Vixen’s chest as she thrusted against her fingers, fucking down into them, breathy moans music to Vixen’s ears. Her hips moved faster and faster until she stopped, whimpering, just barely grinding against the heel of Vixen’s hand, lips pressed to her neck.

Vixen had never made a girl come before, and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined, from the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks to the slick sheen of sweat on her forehead, to her ass flexing, muscles still twitching against Vixen’s fingers. And the best part, the way she looked up at Vixen at the end, eyes locked with hers as the waves of pleasure radiated through her body, fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Fuck,” Courtney sighed, collapsing against Vixen’s body, trapping her hand for a few moments before realizing it and letting her wriggle free with a sleepy laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vixen said, tilting her chin up for a kiss. Her whole body had suddenly become soft and pliant, and all Vixen wanted was to wrap her into an embrace. She wasn’t expecting it to feel this intimate. A part of her had even worried that this whole affair would be wrapped up in a one-night stand. But as Courtney cuddled against her, heart still hammering, she felt closer to her than ever. “I should probably tell you…”

“Mmm?”

“What I said earlier, about not being with a girl in a long time?” Vixen swallowed. “I uh...I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school. And I guess I’ve come close since then, but never really went through with it...as me. The real me.”

Courtney lifted her head, fingers trailing down Vixen’s arm, a smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly.

Vixen nodded, not sure what more there was to add, when a clap of thunder outside scared the living shit out of her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. So much for a warm and fuzzy moment.

Courtney laughed, pulling up the covers and cocooning them both, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she said, snuggling tight against Vixen’s body.

“You better,” Vixen replied.

[gryphons-of-aentha]

The Approximate Plotline of the Gryphonverse (pt. 2)

Because this is what you were getting yourselves into when you followed me.

Right, so, Talon and Iadra join up with Kyran to overthrow Kyran’s asshole father, who happens to rule the country. They end up working well together and form a sizeable group of aquei and one or two additional gryphons who Iadra managed to convince. If not for the fact that it was all being headed by a seventeen year old with absolutely no martial experience at all (not to mention a much greater talent for dividing people than uniting them, which was great for starting the rebellion but not finishing it), it might have worked. Unfortunately, it was being headed by a seventeen year old, and he doesn’t believe in stealth or subtlety because he’s melodramatic enough to want an audience when he confronts and in theory usurps his father. While they do manage to make a heavy dent in the king’s guard/soldiers and cause a lot of problems for him, they’re overpowered without much effort in the end. Talon and Iadra manage to escape the aftermath mostly unscathed, though not all the gryphons do, and Kyran is arrested and very promptly exiled on the spot. The king’s hope was likely that the humiliation of such a complete and public defeat would prevent him from ever showing himself in Andolia again, but as it turns out humiliating Kyran has roughly the effect of throwing water on a grease fire, and he was already plotting revenge before he’d even finished storming out of the room. 

Meanwhile, Talon and Iadra are trying to figure out where to go from here because this whole fiasco has made the Andolian impression of gryphons even worse (largely because the king is actively pushing the narrative in that direction to throw the blame off himself, since Kyran managed to make himself into a massive PR disaster). Even Talon is finding himself less welcome in a lot of places than he used to be, and distances himself from the places he is welcome to avoid bringing unwanted attention to them, so he mostly hangs out in the no-man’s-land with other gryphons unless his town has some kind of monster-of-the-week situation he needs to deal with. Iadra does have to rescue his ass more than once when he overestimates the goodwill of a few villages, because he’s entirely too optimistic when it comes to judgement of character, but while she's more wary about which aquei she’ll interact with, she enthusiastically jumps on the reputation-grinding sidequest train (gryphons are very fond of three things: proving how badass they are with dangerous heroics, being complimented about it, and receiving shiny things, so this is really the gig they were made for) and even becomes cautiously friendly with Talon’s hometown.

Barring the occasional snag, they do this pretty successfully for a couple years until who should show up again but Kyran, with an even bigger chip on his shoulder and an even more horribly ill-conceived plan to get back at the king.

Among the many powerful eldritch forces and arcane loci that can be encountered in the wilderness around Andolia is what I vaguely dubbed the Powers of Darkness and then never got around to actually naming properly. Anyway, the Powers of Darkness are a sort of multi-consciousness/hivemind/sentient form of malicious energy that feeds on suffering and conflict, generating from and partially comprising what I equally vaguely refer to as the Eleventh Dimension. Just don’t ask too many questions about this one. Obviously, Kyran looked at this extremely powerful malevolent force that has no agenda other than causing more misery that it can feed on and a resume of imprisoning souls via impulsively-made contracts as long as time itself and thought “yeah I can probably use that and deal with the consequences later” because he has learned nothing in the last two years and is still holding a massive grudge about his previous defeat. He proceeds to summon and make a bargain with this thing, certain that if he inflicts enough collateral damage along the way it will satisfy whatever price the Powers of Darkness would otherwise take from him.

He doesn’t tell Talon or Iadra this, he just states that he’s found a source of power that can potentially raze the capital to the ground, to which both are like “okay, no, committing war crimes over your unresolved daddy issues would be bad, actually.” Iadra has been pretty thoroughly done with him since he almost got them killed last time and is wary of burning the bridges they’ve been carefully rebuilding, but Talon, giant stoic golden retriever that he secretly is, still thinks that Kyran has potential if he could just be steered off the wildly destructive path he keeps going down and probably would be, if not a good king, at least a better king than Shale given a few years to mellow out. Two years ago this was probably true, but now he’s strongly underestimating how much Kyran should not be put in charge of anything. This leads to the first major conflict Talon and Iadra have ever had, which eventually ends in Iadra just throwing her hands up and going back to Talon’s town to brood about it and continue what they’ve been doing, assuming Talon will come to his senses after the plan inevitably goes to shit, having known him long enough to be confident that he’ll survive the consequences just fine. 

Those would have been safe assumptions if not for the fact that Kyran was much more dangerous and stupid than either of them were prepared for, and even Kyran wasn’t prepared for the fact that the Powers of Darkness also possess the more subtle tendency to slowly get into peoples’ heads and drive them to extremes they’d never reach on their own (not that this absolves him of wanting to destroy a city but he was very much under their influence by that point). Now granted, his desire to work with Talon was sincere; they’d become very close during the first rebellion attempt because Kyran’s lack of a competent father figure matched up well with Talon’s deeply ingrained Mandalorian Instinct™ and there was a good reason why Talon was so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt here. The problem is that Kyran didn’t think to read the fine print while making deals with actively evil eldritch forces and was confronted with the consequences of his actions much earlier in his plan than expected. Suddenly realizing that he’s much less impervious to said consequences than he flippantly assumed, and pretty thoroughly cornered, he does the last thing available to him that doesn’t involve actually dealing with his own shit and paying the price himself, and turns on Talon to sacrifice him instead. Normally a moderately competent but inexperienced teenager against an adult gryphon whose day job is fighting things would be a laughably unfair fight, but the Powers of Darkness have a vested interest in Talon losing, and to the surprise of both of them he falls very quickly to Kyran, who hacks off one of his wings (unfortunately for Talon, the Powers of Darkness don’t feed on death or amicable defeat) and leaves him to bleed out, then flees into the hills, very much traumatized (albeit not as traumatized as Talon) but confident that he’s off the hook and determined to now proceed with his plan.

Luckily for Talon, this all went down not far from a fairly isolated aquei homestead, and he’s found by the couple who lives there, who heard all the crashing and screaming and are both 200% ready to throw down until they arrive on the scene and find nothing but an unconscious gryphon hybrid in a puddle of blood with one of his wings laying several yards away. Given the current state of interspecies relations, they probably would have killed him had they not recognized him as that guy from that one weird town, but fortunately all the sidequests have paid off. They haul him back to the farm and he eventually makes an impressive physical recovery, though due to the circumstances of losing the wing he’s kind of stuck between forms and can no longer shift to fully humanoid or fully gryphonic, which is an unusual state to get stuck in but still very livable in his case (he mostly just looks a lot more like a winged aquei than an regular half-gryphon). Still, losing an entire limb and all ability to fly is a lot, and he’s down for the count both physically and psychologically for a good chunk of time.

Iadra, when she doesn’t hear from him or Kyran for a while, starts to wonder if maybe something went wrong. Eventually word reaches her that Talon is dead (which even Kyran believes to be true, since the only two people who know otherwise are keeping their mouths shut) and she immediately decides to hunt down Kyran herself and absolutely murder the shit out of him. He’s not easy to track down, as he’s currently laying low and gathering power for what he’s determined will be the final assault on the capital and his father, and she has to increasingly rely on her human form the deeper into Andolia she goes, but Iadra is extremely determined and Kyran is pretty bad at being subtle, and she eventually tracks him straight into the capital. The ensuing fight between an accidental evil warlock who’s also the king’s bastard son and a horse-sized flying apex predator with fairly recognizable plumage almost immediately causes a scene and also a lot of property damage, and the king’s guard arrives quickly to apprehend both of them (or they will, just as soon as everyone stops flailing claws and dangerous forces around). Kyran, who this time lacks both the biased support of the Powers of Darkness and the element of surprise, fares much worse against Iadra than he did against Talon. So, in a last-ditch move of desperation, he calls on much more power than he’s already paid for to try and portal himself out of there.

Which is how he, and by extension Iadra, find out that Aentha has an inherent interdimensional connection to the planet Earth, and specific humans who live on it. And unfortunately, this is getting too fucking long again so I guess there’s going to be a part three.

[ilseofskadi]

hades and persephone au bc i live for that shit

still a wip just like the other but i crave validation please validate my writing

also i need to learn how to just suck it up and use names instead of constantly only using pronouns

She wasn’t anyone special. Just the daughter of a demigod and a a human. Sure, she had some power over flora life, but they were nothing in the eyes of a true god’s power. Her lifespan would be short, it was a mortal’s life after all, and she had no divine sway; but none of that bothered her, she was fine with her simple life.

So why was this young man, this obvious god dressed in black standing before her? Why did she now want to see if she could make more of her life?

.

After yet another argument with her father, Maka stormed into the forest, her forest, and sought out her shelter. All but dropping to the ground, she buried her face in her hands and cried. It started soft, still held back from her walk, but soon turned into an angered and frustrated scream as she let the forest surround her. The wind caressed her arms gently and the stream whispered softly in her ears. She didn’t know how long it was until her throat burned out, sore and raw from hard use, her sob turning back into soft crying.

As she wiped her tears with her palms she noticed that she was alone. Normally when she was in the forest the fauna would flock to her, providing her with a calm form of social interaction she could get nowhere else. Yet today, when she wanted it most, she was still alone. Anger built up inside her again and she berated herself for thinking that she was enough to always draw the attention of the animals. Someone like her was too small and insignificant, after all. She pushed herself up from the ground, brushing off dirt from her knees before straightening her back and —

Locked eyes with a living shadow.

She froze in place, something akin to fear settling in her blood as she breathed in oddly cold air. It was clear that whoever this was wasn’t someone like her; no, he was stronger and commanded a presence of fear and awe. Shrouded in shadows, she wasn’t even sure if the person was indeed a he. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was human shaped with glowing golden eyes that seemed to judge her very soul. The silence that surrounded them was thick, yet fragile, and wasn’t even broken when the other decided to turn away and leave.

“Wait!” She didn’t know what compelled her to do so, but almost without hesitation she stepped forward and called out. Her voice was raspy and weak, but somehow the figure had heard her —and stranger still, decided to heed her. They still didn’t turn around, but they stood still, as if awaiting for her to speak again.

But she didn’t know what to say. And they walked away, fading in to the shadows of the trees.

.

She tried not to think of the mysterious meeting after it happened, but every time she went to her corner of the forest her mind always wandered back to it. Her eyes were always mindful of the shadows in the corners, always waiting for one to move. But nothing happened.

Her time returned to singing softly to herself and the animals that approached. Sitting on the grassy forest floor, weaving flowers in circlets as the sun warmed her skin. Deers, squirrels, birds, and more all surrounded her, relaxing enough to let their guards down and rest beside her.

Her corner of the forest was always warm.

.

It was once again after an argument with her father that Maka stormed through the forest. She wasn’t crying this time, but seething raw emotions nonetheless. The air was warm when she stopped, the animals nearby but still keeping their distance. She sat on a mossy boulder and clutched the end of her dress until her knuckles were white. With her mind racing with angry thoughts she didn’t notice the wind settling down into a chill and the animals fleeing back into the forest. She didn’t notice the approaching footsteps or the nearing figure. She did notice the cold voice that broke her from her thoughts.

“Are you alright?”

Her head snapped up in attention, turning sharply to face the source, and once again locking with sharp gold surrounded by shadow. Perhaps “surrounded” wasn’t the proper word this time, as she was able to clearly see a masculine face with pale skin from the darkness. She didn’t flinch back at the chilling presence, but still could not find any words. Somehow she did find the strength to shake her head. She expected the figure to move again, but he remained still; only then did she notice he was only standing across the stream, and not as close as she believed him to be.

“Why are you so far away?” She could have said anything else, or at least been more polite, but her mouth was moving before she could think. The young man, as she was sure of that at least, looked away for a moment, first to the sky then to the water.

“This is as far as I can go,” his reply was firmly stated, yet she couldn’t help but think that there was some kind of hesitation. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her, she was much lesser than him after all. “My powers can only go this far.”

“Powers?” She was still speaking without thinking, but she was drawn in with curiosity. “Why is that?”

He was silent again, this time looking her over and taking in each part of her body. When he seemed to be satisfied with whatever he saw he tilted his head in confusion. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” she shook her head, “but I can tell you’re not like me. Not human…something stronger…”

“You are correct.” He didn’t speak again, instead shifting where he stood in thought. There was a brief rustle of wind and he looked up. Then he was turning to leave. She wanted to stop him, to stand up and call out like she did last time, but found herself unmovable from where she sat.

And he was gone, once again vanishing into the shadows, and life was moving in the forest once more.

.

She didn’t try to avoid thinking of him. She went to the forest near daily in hopes of seeing him again. She dreamt of his glowing eyes in the dark. She delved into books in desperation to find some kind of hint about who he was. There was no way she could stop thinking about him this time.

Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, she had only seen him twice, and there was a rule of three after all. But she could be inpatient, and she didn’t like not knowing things.

Still, no matter how many books she read, or how far she searched the forest, she found no trace of the young man.

.

Maybe he only showed up when she was upset, Maka thought as she stared him down across the stream after once again crying until her eyes were dry. Her lips turned down into a strong frown, but she wasn’t upset at him; though perhaps she was upset at the idea of him. It was strange, and slightly disturbing, but she wasn’t letting this go again. When she finally steeled herself she marched over the grass and past the stream until she was standing nearly toe-to-toe in front of his moving shadow of a form.

“Why are you here?” She wasn’t asking, she was demanding. Throwing caution to the cold wind, she put aside the gnawing feeling that she had no place in speaking to him in such a manner. Silent still from him, any fear was gone and replaced with a growing anger. “Are you ridiculing me?”

His eyes widened, emotion finally flashing on his blank face. His lips parted and he stepped back. It was odd to see this reaction from him. Still, she stared him down and awaited his response.

“No,” his voice was barely a whisper but still loud in her ears, “of course not.”

“Then why are you only here when I’m crying?”

“I am here more often than that.”

“Then how come I don’t see you?”

“Because I do not want you to.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still not know who, or what, I am?”

She paused. She knew she had to respond fast, as he probably wouldn’t be around much longer if their past interactions were anything to go off of, but she needed to see him to form her thoughts.

He stood up straight at full height, taller than her by not quite a full head, but more than half. His skin was inhumanly pale, almost white, and accented by the black he was cloaked in. His hair had three white stripes that stopped half way around his forehead, presumably they wrapped around to the back of his head as well. While it seemed he was wearing shadows, it was nothing more than a cloak that would shift with every slight movement. His very presence seemed to push an idea of fear, of darkness and sorrow. She knew he was a god, and one of much higher standing than she ever saw.

“I don’t know.” Her words were a firm lie. She had a feeling, almost more than a feeling, an instinct that kicked her to run from him; but she would stand her ground no matter what. He would have to tell her himself, and if he dared to leave without doing so she had no problem in stopping him. However, he made no indication of doing so.

“I believe you have an idea.” His tone wasn’t taunting, but she still felt clawing indignation.

“Death.”

“Close. That would be my father.”

.

Maka continued to meet with Death’s son. Kid, he told her to call him. When she asked why he was named that he made a face and asked her to to question it, saying that his father had a unique idea of actions. Really, she thought it was more like begging her not to say any more. He was nothing like she would have thought, and neither was his father if what he said held any truth.

Kid seemed to have a fixation with cleanliness and order, he began to bring a cloth for her to sit on so she wouldn’t get dirt on her skin or clothing. While his face and expressions were more often than not unmoving and almost stern, when she got him talking his voice would rise and she could almost see hints of feeling peeking through. He was also a stalwart listener for whenever she needed someone to comfort her as she cried.

The first time she tried to get closer to him he didn’t hide back his flinch. They both knew she had others she could turn to for comfort, yet she still sought him out. It was as her shoulders shook unevenly that he finally placed his hands on them and pulled her close to his chest. His hands were cold and sent involuntary shivers down her back and she wasn’t even sure if she could hear a heartbeat as her ear was pushed against his ribcage. Still, she gripped her hands into the flowing cloak, her legs giving out as she remained upright only by his arms. They fell to the ground, her knees pressing into his as she trembled against him.

She had only known him for a few months, talked to him for no more than one —if even— yet she couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

.

It took a lot of coaxing for the animals to move close to them, but she Maka set on getting at least one to be near enough for him to touch. The best way for that to happen was for her to be waiting for him, humming to herself and weaving flowers as the creatures curled up to her legs. She awaited the chilling air with anticipation, moving the circlet of purple flowers gently, her fingertips grazing the soft petals with care. It was the stirring of the deer laying against her that alerted her to the approaching cold. She tried to soothe the creature in hopes that it would stay, but as the footsteps came nearer it stumbled up to its twig-like legs and stumbled off.

When Kid crouched down to lay a cloth on the ground she turned to him with a smile, inwardly laughing at his quirk. As he settled down, leaving space for her to move onto, she reached over and placed the flowers over his head. By the time she situated herself next to him he had removed the wreath and was inspecting it. Sadly, the instant it touched him it had began to wither away, the vibrant purple and green fading gray and pale.

“Lucerne flowers?” He guessed, but she just shrugged.

“I thought they were pretty. Is that what they’re called?” She leaned against him, trying to not look too disappointed at the dead flowers. His fingers brushed against a stiff petal, breaking it off from his touch; he frowned visibly and placed the gift to his free side.

“I am sure that would have looked much better on you than me,” his voice didn’t betray his emotions —he had been learning to be more expressive. “They will only wilt at my touch.”

She didn’t respond. He was right, after all. No matter how many times she tried, no matter what flowers she used, no matter how much care she put into her work, the instant contact was made the plants would always die.

“It can’t hurt to try.” She whispered, truly believing her words. She could tell he wanted them to live for a least a few moments longer, and it hurt her that his existence was the reason that couldn’t happen.

“I am fine to simply view them.”

She nodded her head, then rested it on his shoulder with a sigh. Closing her eyes, she let herself simply move into his being. There were no words she could find to portray what she felt when she was close to him. Every second they were together was calm and collected, caring and quiet. It was like nothing she would get anywhere else. She wanted to savor every breath of the cold air he brought.

Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled as she saw a deer across from them staring through a bush. She gently moved a hand forward, noting how Kid’s attention remained on her, and beckoned the creature towards her. It was almost excruciatingly slow, but the deer nervously made its way over, nudging its head against her hand. She whispered kindly to it, but her free hand made its way to Kid’s closest hand. She locked eyes with him and made a motion towards to animal.

“I do not,” he began, gulping, but she ignored him to continue stroking the soft ears of the deer. She gave a squeeze to his hand before letting go, slightly aware of how his hand twitched towards hers.

“I have confidence,” she whispered to him, cupping her hand under the deer’s muzzle.

It took patience, but eventually he slowly reached out a hand to the deer. The animal flinched back, but was comforted by her warm hand. There was a shared moment of hesitance and fear before his cold hand touched one of the ears.

The deer remained standing.

The two let out a breath neither knew they were holding. However, the sound of their relief broke the deer out its trance and it turned and jumped away. The two looked at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“Confidence, huh?” He teased, leaning back on this hands with a slight grin.

“Oh be quiet,” she lightly hit his chest, “it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did,” he paused. He had touched a living thing without killing it.

“You’ve touched me before,” she added, making him realize he had spoken out loud. He quickly looked away, turning his head so she couldn’t see the light pink that rose to his cheeks.

“You are…different.”

“How so?”

He fidgeted, moving his head back so to stare at the sky. She took in the shapes of his face at his distraction. It was warming to her how she had watched him learn to be more expressive with his features and emotions. Then again, there was so much about him that seemed to warm her. He still was hesitant to speak too much about his feelings, but she could tell he was trying. She had almost forgotten she had asked him a question when he spoke, her eyes moving to watch his when he inhaled.

“You are…life.” His words were oddly stilted and he frowned deeply. “I cannot explain it, but there is something about you that simply seems to radiate life. It is a life that I cannot touch no matter the contact.” He looked down at her, their eyes meeting and drawing her in.

“You are a life I should not touch, yet I still find a way. You are a life that provides warmth that finds a way to cancel out my being.”

And what was there that she could say to that.

[adamarinayu]

Goodbye, Part 2; Secrets

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

As soon as he was composed enough, Gladstone slipped the disc into the player.

“Gladstone,” Donald’s face immediately appeared, looking tense. “If this is you, select the correct symbol on screen.”

Six symbols appeared on the screen; a clover, an anchor, a fish, a house, a tree and a face. A timer slowly counted down in the corner. Gladstone internally panicked; what did that mean?

“You only have two chances to get this right. The disc’s contents will erase if you get it wrong twice, but you should know the answer. I’d have given it to you.”

He panicked more and stared hard at the six symbols. He grabbed the remote, not sure what he was doing.

He could pick at random, he knew- he had a pretty good chance at getting it right. But he didn’t want to risk it- not with this.

Not with whatever secret message Donald left for him.

Then Donald’s words suddenly echoed back in his head. Remember; one, he had said. But none of that meant anything to him. None of these images said “one.”

His eyes scanned over them, desperate, before it hit him.

It wasn’t any of the symbols. Quickly he switched the remote over to the timer and silently celebrated his thinking; what other reason would he be able to interact with the timer if he was wrong?

He watched the numbers slowly count down.

6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1-

He clicked.

The screen went white for a moment, and then Donald was back on screen. “Thank goodness you remembered,” he almost laughed. “I hope I actually told you the clue before... whatever happened, happened. Knowing you, your remote might have fallen and accidentally clicked the right place at the right time. I will haunt you if that happened, by the way,” he warned, glaring out at Gladstone.

Gladstone let out a breathless laugh, wiping a stubborn tear away. Some things never changed.

“If you had the same address for more than a few days, I could have sent this to you instead of Uncle Scrooge and we could have avoided that dangerous minigame,” Donald pointed out, clearly irritated. “Now that I’m sure it’s you,” he continued, “I want you to go to Ducklair Tower. Don’t go in the front, they’ll stop you if you do. Go around the back of the building to a service entrance. It won’t be locked. Go to the nearest elevator and make sure you’re in it alone. Don’t do anything. I promise this isn’t a wild goose chase,” Donald cracked a smile on screen, though he didn’t seem amused by his own jest. “Just trust me, the way I’m trusting you.”

Then the video went blank. Gladstone tried rewinding it, only to find that now there was nothing on it.

Whatever was in that tower, Gladstone realized, Donald didn’t want anyone else to know about.

He stood in shock as he took in the floor. It was large, with one-way mirror glass. It was nothing like he was expecting, and slowly he walked through the room, looking around.

The goose couldn’t even explain what he was seeing. Donald knew about this? Sure, Gladstone knew Donald was the caretaker between his, Della and Uncle Scrooge’s adventures back when Scrooge owned the building, but it had been years since then. Heck, Gladstone was willing to wager it had been at the very least four years, if not five.

“You’re Gladstone Gander?”

He shrieked, whipping around. No one was there with him.

“Wow, I can tell you’re related to Donald.” The voice sounded rather dead despite its joke, and Gladstone watched as a head formed in a giant green orb in the middle of the room.

“Wh-what- huh, you-” he stammered, staring wide-eyed at the orb.

The orb looked less than impressed. “I’m One,” it- he?- introduced it- him?- self. “Donald preferred to call me Uno, but I’d appreciate it if you refrained from doing the same.”

Gladstone blinked, noticing a strange tone in the orb’s voice. It sounded almost angry. Or upset. Like it was doing its best to deal with some sort of pain...

“What... are you?” the goose finally asked, approaching One.

“An artificial intelligence,” One answered simply, seeming to observe Gladstone. “I don’t know why Donald trusted you with this, from what I’ve heard you should have been the last choice, but it is what it is.”

“What is what it is?”

One turned away from him and panels on the wall opened up, revealing-

“The Duck Avenger’s suit?!”

“Paperinik,” One corrected almost crossly, closing the panels again. “Donald didn’t want to leave Duckburg without a hero. You will not be becoming the new Paperinik, I refuse to allow that, but he wished for you to take his place.”

“Wait,” Gladstone uttered, not sure he could take any more surprises that day. “Donald is... was... the Duck Avenger?”

“Paperinik. And yes.”

The goose took a breath, turning to look at One. “Can you tell me what happened?” he finally asked. “Not about... Paperinik, but with Donald. Where is he? What happened?” He felt his eyes burn, his chest ache. 

Would this... artificial intelligence even know?

Amazingly, though, as One looked at him, its- his?- synthetic face seemed to soften. It- he, Gladstone corrected, believing that expression, that tone, to be way too human to be anything but- apparently realized that Gladstone was hurting, too.

His next words were gentler. “The artifact that he, Della and Scrooge retrieved on their last adventure was cursed,” One explained, a dull claw-like hand popping out of the floor and pushing Gladstone into a chair that seemed to come from nowhere. “He asked me to look at its history, and I did. Turns out, the spear corrupts those who hold it- and anyone around them. Donald realized it would hurt not only himself, but you, your uncle Scrooge, Della and her children- and anyone else you were close to.”

“So it is Scrooge’s fault,” Gladstone all but whispered.

“In my opinion? Yes.” One turned to a wall of screens, prompting Gladstone to look over as well. “But Donald loves his family more than anything, so he took the spear anyway.”

The screens lit up with Donald’s face again. He seemed to be in a vehicle of some kind, a beautifully carved blue spear behind him.

“Hey Uno,” Donald’s voice echoed around the room. “Y’know, I left messages for everyone else- even Panchito and Jose. But I didn’t leave a message for you.”

“I’m right here, Donald,” One’s voice echoed in the vehicle, though it was soft. Almost a whisper, if Gladstone had to say. He clearly knew Donald wasn’t coming back. “You don’t need to leave me a message.”

“Will you record anyway?”

“I already am.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’m sorry it ends this way,” Donald started, eyes focused ahead- the windscreen, probably. “But... it’s for the best. You know that, right? We don’t even know how this thing would affect an artificial intelligence, even less you. You’re too... human, y’know? You have a conscious like us. And this thing- it twists our consciousness, yeah? So... I’m doing this as much for you as them.

“Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but over the last six years you’ve really become my best friend, and I don’t even want to consider what could happen to you in the downfall.”

The spear behind Donald began glowing brightly and Donald grimaced, gritting his teeth.

“Also, if Everett comes back around, tell him, uh, I’m sorry he had to lose this car. I just... need to make sure this thing’s gone, out of reach, forever.”

“Donald-” One’s voice started, but Donald held up a hand, cutting the AI off.

“Everyone dies eventually, Uno. I have no regrets. Thank you for staying by my side, even when I was being an idiot. The last few years have been... honestly, the best of my life. And for the record, I do too.”

Whatever he meant, Gladstone wasn’t sure- probably referencing an earlier conversation, one that Gladstone wasn’t privy to. In the recording, there was the sound of slamming- through the window Gladstone could for just a split second see dark, greenish-blue water.

The ocean.

The video cut off then, though Gladstone had a feeling it wasn’t the end. Whatever conversation followed, clearly Uno- One- whoever wanted to keep to himself.

“He asked me before he took the spear if I’d make you into a hero, too. Della is a mother now, and Scrooge is an old moneybag, and he was hoping he could trust you.” One turned to him again, eyes narrowed sharply. “If his trust is misplaced, be warned, I can and will erase your memory without absolutely no hesitation.”

Gladstone held his hands up defensively. He swallowed roughly past the lump in his throat and the hole in his chest. He knew, now, that One was actually who heard Donald’s last words.

Maybe he was even there when Donald died.

It hurt to even consider and he dared not ask. It was obvious the AI cared greatly for Donald. He was hurting, too. Gladstone didn’t want to make it worse.

“Of course,” Gladstone agreed, silently bidding his carefree lifestyle adieu. This was Donald’s first, last and only request of him- his final request. How could he possibly say no? The city needed a hero, and Duck Avenger... Paperinik...

Donald was gone.

One watched him critically for a few seconds before nodding, seemingly satisfied. “We’ll begin training immediately Sunday.”

Sunday. The day after Donald’s empty-casket funeral. Gladstone swallowed and nodded.

“Stay still while I measure you, I’ll have something made by the time you come back. Also, think of a name. Come back Sunday, one o’clock PM, and don’t be late.”

On Saturday, as Gladstone stared at that dark oak casket, he wondered if One was watching somehow.

He didn’t doubt it. He dropped a rose into the grave on top of the casket, as did the rest of the family, and stepped back as the burying began.

He wiped his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would become Cloverleaf.