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the-slasher-files · 4 years

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DIFFERENT PREADTORS - chapter seven

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAIVERA LAH-MO

oooh boy onto seven, and my heart breaks. This chapter honestly made me cry, it is a very sad and angry Andrei. Someone get this man a therapist lol. I cannot believe their story is ending, I just don’t want it to end, but I guess there is always a goodbye at some point. Grab your tissues and watch Andrei self destruct. Make sure read part one, two, three, four, five, and six.

Please go read @horrorslashergirl oc Xaviera’s perspective linked HERE

MASTERLIST

The house was in flames. Falling to pieces like the people in front of it. Memories, terror, destruction, pain, love and fear billowed in the black smoke tearing into the cold winds.

“Amaria!... Want else do you want?!” He howled. “It’s over! They’re gone!”

“No Drei.. NO!” She cried. He grabbed her in desperation. “Andrei, please!”

Falling to their knees on the frozen soil of home, he held her as she sobbed. “Come with me.. Amaria please. Ari I can protect you.”

“Protect me?! What the fuck did you ever protect me from?!” Clawing away he clutched her wrists. “Let me GO!” She wailed. Breath curling away white into the smoke.

Swallowing harshly, pushing the lump in his throat down “Amaria ENOUGH! It’s over!” Looking her in the eyes, a tear formed. The same blue their mother had given, he pleaded. “Come with me.... please.”

“You’re a fucking monster.” she whispered.

He let her go. Dusting off the snow. The bitter taste of fear and desperation on his tongue. He looked to the flames, claws fisted and teeth bared. The fur was rising on his spine in protection as he looked to his left hand.. No Gods... He did this... She walked into the snow and the wolf howled into the smoke. He was alone. Alone. For the first time in his life.

Ice blue eyes snapped open, and he remembered to breathe. Remembering where he was. The warm sun flooded the wooden cabin that housed the two predators, safely. Andrei smelt tea, his favorite; Earl Grey. Then he realized there was no weight on his chest, only his arms.

“Shit.” Andrei jumped up thinking she had left him already, the stealthy little feline could always manage to escape his grasp. His trained eyes scanned the cabin meticulously. Her maps, rifle and bag were still here, and he could breathe deeply again.

Moving slowly to the kitchen there was a nice warm mug of tea for him, which Andrei took happily as he looked out the window. A smile tried to creep on his face as white long locks blew in the breeze, Xaviera. Walking to the front door he opened it and saw her, just in his black long sleeve and panties. Cold weather was never a bother to him, half the time at home he was shirtless in the Siberian winter, but he worried about her. Andrei cared for the first time in a long time about someone else. It felt right. Felt like a job he was made to be doing since day one.

Placing his large frame behind Xaviera, one arm wrapping around her waist while he held the mug in his other hand. “Baby its cold out here, you should come inside..” Andrei gently kissed her crown “I don’t want my little kitten freezing her tail off.”

She moved her body closer to his “Mmmm…. I just love the cold breeze in the morning. Freshen’s me up.” Xaviera replied, taking one of his hands and kissing his knuckles. “How did you sleep, Wolfy?” she asked, looking over her shoulder up at him, icy eyes meeting one another.

Smirking down at her, pulling her as close as he could, just wanting to hold her, savoring these dilactate last moments together. Andrei wasn’t going to tell her about his haunting memories that plagued his sleep, instead his humor coated him like an amour. Looking up and moving his neck back and forth, cracking it loudly “Couches aren’t for necks,” Andrei silently laughed “but you somehow always manage to make me over sleep, so it wasn’t too bad”

Leaning down he kisses her, slowly, not wanting to pull away, squeezing his eyes closed in desperation. Begging to some higher power that it wouldn’t hurt when he left her. Opening his eyes he pulls away, looking over her frame and examining if she’s really cold or not “How about you little snow leopard?”

“Mmm me? Well…. I slept like a baby in your arms… You kept me so warm.” She answered, turning around and nuzzling her nose into his neck. A sense of pride swarming Andrei as she spoke, knowing a little creature could sleep so peacefully in his destructive arms, arms that have taken so much from this world.

He sighed, the end was coming and it was going to hurt, he felt the wolf wanting to come out, to protect his heart, to push away, to be cold but Andrei just didn’t want that to happen. The wolf persisted.

“Well, I have a long hike out of here so… I, uh… I better start to pack.” He pulled away coldly going back inside, the coldness was his home and it protected him. Marching upstairs Andrei grabbed his bag, loading up his extra clothes, weapons and ammo. Something stopped him.

Icy eyes fell upon the tangled sheets of the bed and he closed his eyes, licking his lips. All the memories that were held within them, everyone of her breaths, her whimpers, her screams. His vulnerability, his groans, his peaceful sleeps. It was all too much for the wolf. A burst of rage sparking like a wildfire.

“Fuck!” The wolf spat, kicking the arm chair that was beside the bed with a bang. The anger coating his hurt in a dangerous coping mechanism. Throwing his guns in the black duffle bag, he marched downstairs.

Seeing Xaviera look at him as he came down the stairs made something stir in him more, looking like she saw him as a predator again. Throwing his bag at the door, Andrei deeply inhaled, trying to ease his anger.

Breathe Andrei... Take her home... Breathe... Be grateful...

Calming himself Andrei walked over to her, one of his large hands holding her hip while the other ran through her white hair. He never wanted this to end. Feeling her tense a little, Andrei’s heart broke, he could never hurt her but he was by just being in her life. Quickly Xaviera relaxed and leaned into him.

“Thank you… for everything.” she whispered, resting her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Closing her eyes, she leaned in, pressing her lips gently against his own, closing his eyes as well, he held her close, kissing as if it was the last kiss he could ever give, deepening it as his hand ran through her white hair and their tongues danced together. The wolf grew needy for her again but he kept it under control, pulling away after a few minutes he rested his forehead on hers, stroking her cheek.

“No… Thank you Xaviera.” Andrei whispered, not letting her go and just staring in her eyes, getting lost in them and trying to remember them forever. “Wil- could you ever…” he tried to push through his vulnerability, he couldn’t, deeply inhaling shaking his head slightly, pulling away and smiling “Nevermind… my shirt looks good on you baby girl.” He smirked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh…. Oh! Y-Yeah…Ummm… D-Do you want it back?” She quickly asked while blushing. Those cute stammering words and that blush again was going to kill him. He just wanted all of her, all of her accepting him.

Andrei smiled running his hands on her arms, “No, no.. you keep it.. its warm.” Then his eyes went to his necklace he had given her, and the mark that was starting to scar, peaking out from the top of his shirt. “Now you have 3 gifts from me myshka,” Andrei took his large inked hand cupping her jaw and placing a thumb gently around the healing black eye she had gotten from the now dead rotting man in the snow. “It’s the least I could give you,”

The wolf was greedy within him, wanting to just selfishly take her home, keep her from her life and job, but he couldn’t for some reason. He needed her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Needed her to run free like the wild animal she was.

“Thank for saving me…” Xaviera had saved him physically, but she saved his brain from eating itself whole in the night, and from the torment of his dark life, just to see the light for a few days. Something he hadn’t seen in years. “Thank you Xaviera…. You’re so beautiful.. so strong… don’t let anyone tame you kitten.”

Andrei could see an internal conflict inside her eyes, much like his. “T-Thank you for these words, Wolfy. I will sure remember them for the rest of my life.” she whispered, pressing her lips against the wolf’s tooth in her hand, then leaning her forehead against his chest.

Andrei just held her close, large arms around her waist, his face in her hair, closing his eyes just breathing her in. The smell of night flowers and sweetness drove him wild.

Be grateful Andrei.. She was good to you.. Be grateful

He held her for what seemed like a lifetime but he felt something build under the surface, it was emotions and deep fears from his past of people leaving him, he had to finish this quick, consume himself in work and lose himself in blood lust yet again, have the wolf protect his soul from the hurt.

Pulling away again Andrei cupped her jaw one last time. “Thank you.” He whispered and kissed her deeply. Just one last kiss. Feeling her sweet lips for the last time.

“Good bye Xaviera.” Soft blues turned cold again as he let her go, and turned away pulling on his jacket and vest, grabbing his bag. Andrei turned one last time smirking his classic smirk. “Good bye beautiful.”

With that the wolf walked out into the snow. He was headed home feeling the flesh within his chest tear and rip in pain. A feeling he had not felt since Amaria had left him all those years ago, but this seemed more painful in a way, it was a fresh and fast wound Xaviera had created in his chest, and he was bleeding out in the snow of an unfamiliar forest.

Breathing deeply, he was on his own once again. The lone wolf taking the path down the mountain, he looked back on the path almost praying she would be there, but she wasn’t, she never would be. Crossing the avalanche path, he was grateful for the destruction that lead to so much kindness, memories he would hold forever. Andrei would be forever changed by the avalanche, much like the trees and the rocks that had been displaced by the force of nature, it was meant to happen. Nature’s way of placing predators together for better or worse.

Ice blue eyes met the ridge where he had first seen Xaviera, but there was something in her place; a snow leopard. White fur camouflaged in the snow, blue eyes meeting his. Andrei smiled as it ran up the incline, much like the woman he had chased in the beginning. “do svidaniya snezhnyy bars... Spasibo (Goodbye snow leopard... Thank you)”

After a four hour trek, Andrei found the old truck waiting for him in the forest where he had left it. Throwing his stuff in he sat quietly, resting his head on the steering wheel, he breathed slowly, feeling his throat close. It was hard to breathe without her now. It was hard to think. It was hard breathe.

Andrei left the bitter taste of fear and desperation on his tongue. Claws fisted and teeth bared. The fur was rising on his spine in protection once more. The wolf hadn’t taken what was his, but he was grateful for this hunt.

10 Months Later.......

The long graveled road he walked home once more. He swallowed thickly, knowing this road was going to be his grave one day, and the house in the distance was his broken tombstone. The fields around him covered in snow with the brown grass peaking through, taunting him with hope of better days to come.

He wasn’t at home anymore. It never felt right. Just a structure of empty bones beckoning him inside. Inside the jaws of his own mind again.

The wolf inhaled as he hesitated to reach for the door. What the point of this anymore, nothing was here for him. Everything mocked him here. The blood still seeped from his wound from many months ago, the wound she inflicted. It wouldn’t go away, especially today.

The hunt was fresh, merely just an hour ago he had ripped a man’s spine out and let the blood drain into the motherland. The man carried a sniper rifle, an American one. It tore open the wound, ripping the flesh as crimson was on his coat.

Opening the door, he threw the rifle down, taking off the mask that made him the wolf and the vest that had protected him. The wolf was now just a shell. Scared and broken he rushed to the cabinet grabbing his clear poison and swallowing it down in a desperate need, choking on the yearning he couldn’t force away.

The silence over took him again. A silence he usually would bask in was now haunting. The wolf had taken mission after mission not to be in this house, now filled with nightmares and devastation. He was alone. That was a taste he tried to spit out, but he couldn’t.

Every time he would look in the mirror, his eyes reminded him of hers, his tattoo was a reminder of the times she traced it, his canines were a reminder of her sweet blood and the scar he left. She was tearing him asunder, with no mercy. Her innocent soul, was the most sinful in his head.

Breaking the glass bottle on the floor as he finished it, he sat in his destruction. The glass, the broken tables he hadn’t fixed from last time, the holes in the drywall. He sat in it. Coating his fur as he howled for her. A tear teased to fall but he would never let it, if he gave in he would be done for.

The wolf had only felt this once before, and he just prayed that she remembered the good of him, not his monster. His smile, without the teeth. His hands, without the claws. He begged.

Looking down at his hands the words printed made the wolf combust, standing he threw the chair against the wall as he growled, wood splintering to the floor.

He had done this, there were no gods to blame here. It was just him. Alone. Again. He just hoped she was happy.

#SAD... SAD AND ANGRY WOLF #my writing #horror #slasher #oc #Andrei Kulokova #Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x Xaviera

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dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt · 4 years

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Not me saying I wasn’t going to post any of my writing and then immediately going back on my word, no sir!! I’m actually really REALLY proud of this tho, so... up it goes. His Dark Materials AU for my OCs!

[For those that don’t know, in the HDM world everybody has something called a dæmon, which is the physical manifestation of their soul in the form of an animal.]

Dusk bruised the sky, ugly purple-black with smoke and the oncoming night. No stars dared to tread above this city. Even the moon hid her face.

Below, the streets were populated only by shadows. It was easy to mistake them for one, hunched as they were on the stairs in a dark suit and with their face hidden behind an even darker sheet of hair. Only the ember at the tip of their cigarette separated them from the night.

Footsteps descended down the stairs behind them. Their owner had his hands tucked into his pockets, refusing to touch the brass rails mottled with grime. A staccato of claws clicked between each step.

“You’re late,” the living shadow said, the memory of a thousand other cigarettes burnt into their throat.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come at all.”

A ribbon of smoke curled from their lips. “Don’t give me that shit,” they said, disgusted. “You always do. You always will. We both know it.”

“You’re in good spirits tonight,” he responded mildly. His name was Dante, and he regretfully knew the shadow too well to be offended. He hated them less than they deserved. His dæmon stood by his side in the form of a large black dog, the feeble anbaric light of the streetposts settling on her fur and gleaming in her calm eyes.

The shadow had no dæmon to be found.

They merely grunted and rose to their feet. They flicked their cigarette away; it carved a red arch through the air before it winked out on the pavement. They started walking.

Dante exchanged a glance that spoke volumes with his dæmon. But they followed, because he did know. They both did.

The shadow’s name was June, and Dante was their only friend (though, that may be too strong a word.) The reasons for this were immediately obvious, not limited to the miasma of cigarette smoke that seemed woven into their clothes, nor their frankly ugly tongue. Their voice was complicated, interesting, but their face was ordinary; long, with stark bones beneath dark golden-brown skin, an interesting nose and eyes the colour of charcoal. They were also abysmally short, the crown of their head barely reaching Dante’s shoulder. He didn’t mention that.

They barely had to flash their card at the bouncer before he swung the door open for them, his lizard dæmon curled nervously along his forearm. June strode through without a backwards glance. Dante gave him a nod.

It was dim inside the den. The air ought to have been stained red for the stench of copper, sweat and alcohol that clung to every breath; Dante thought he could feel the effects of a pint just from inhaling. The walls were panelled with dark wood, packed to bursting with people. Barely people – raucous grins, jostling, laughing, screaming like fiends in human skins. Even their dæmons seemed inebriated, staggering between their legs with tongues lolling against chins. Nevertheless, all parted for June and their silent, bulky shadow.

June didn’t spare them a single glance. They had bred this intimidation, this mystery, fed it with the tender care of a mother and watched its first steps with pride.

“Just keep your mouth shut,” they had told Dante. “You’re unknowable now. Their fear and uncertainty will make you great.”

That suited him just fine. He never was a man of many words.

Darodrey stayed pinned to his side like a moth to a board. The angle of her ears still read as calm, but she had begun to pant in the crushing heat of the den. He rested a soothing hand on her head. He could feel her anticipation crackling beside his own. They never felt quite so alive than when they were in these ratholes.

He drew back the shabby curtain that sectioned off the preparation quarter, allowed June to step in first. He pulled it to behind him, hands immediately dropping to unbutton his short coat. It fell to the floor, revealing an expanse of scarred olive skin and the lines of thick muscles. He opened the tin set to the side on the bench.

“Nova,” June told him, low. “Dumb as a barrel of shit, but he hits like one too.”

“His dæmon?” It was Drey who asked, as Dante slid a guard over his teeth. The shock of his dæmon speaking to them had been worn away by familiarity long ago.

“A mountain lion.”

Drey noted, “Also stupid.”

Dante pulled a white roll from the tin and began to unwind it around his knuckles. “Only Nova?”

“Mitchellson could be taken as well, if you’re fit after the first.”

“I’ll take him.” Dante flexed his fingers experimentally. “A bear, right?”

“Black,” June confirmed.

Maybe I’ve finally found a challenge, Drey murmured to him and him alone.

Dante secured the final bandage. “What do we get for both?”

“Enough.” June tilted their head, their hair falling against the blade they called a jaw. “As long as you don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t.” He couldn’t.

They’re depending on us.

They, they, they. The two men currently warming his bed with their dreams, wound together in a lover’s knot. Maybe they did depend on him, but not in a way that led into an underground fighting den. That would break them to know.

A roar went up from behind the curtain, more ferocious than any bear. Darodrey’s fur rose along her spine, lips pulling back in fierce delight. Dante rolled his shoulders, knocked his knuckles together till they ached.

“Get out there,” June said, and then their hand closed claw-like over his wrist. “Do not disappoint me, Diệu.”

With the adrenaline biting in his pulse, he didn’t even deign to answer that. Instead, he merely gave them a measured look and pushed through the curtain. Darodrey’s tail whipped out on his heels.

June watched after him for a moment. Their expression was unreadable, their fingers hovering over the red kerchief folded in their breast pocket. Then their jaw set, and they followed him out.

Dumb as a barrel of shit seemed to be the perfect way to describe Nova. His angelic name didn’t look like it belonged to the brutish man with a vividly new scar wound across his bald head. His eyes were, by all means, bright blue, but even they looked dull in his face.

To his credit, he wasn’t prancing or hopping like he was on hot coals, like some of the other peacocks Dante had fought. He simply leaned against the metal links behind him, taking in his competition from under furrowed brows.

Dante ran his eyes up him, down him as if in a mere cursory glance. His fingers were still purple with fresh bruises, darker on his left hand than his right. The muscles in his arms were massively developed. He was also very actively trying to convince Dante he held his weight on his right side. He was concentrating on it harder than he was concentrating on breathing.

Meanwhile, Drey was summarizing her opponent. She found her wanting – the same dull eyes, patchy pelt and a tediously swaying tail.

“Don’t be arrogant,” he told her.

“Vrox is right. You confuse arrogance with confidance too much.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Utter modesty never got anyone anywhere, Dante.” She stretched out one hind leg and then the other, unbothered. “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think we were the best.”

Dante hesitated. Something troubled curled like lead in his stomach.

“Pay attention,” she warned.

Their opponent and his dæmon had leaned to their feet. The crowd was stirring around them, a great wave of excitement, raw in the way only betting could achieve. Dante knew three quarters of those bets were on him, and he knew that would chafe at his opponent’s pride. Sure enough, he saw something close to hate flicker in Nova’s deep-set eyes.

The referee pushed between the two men, a smile fake and white as a skull’s wide on his lips. He dove enthusiastically into his usual spiel, but Dante tuned him out. He could recite it in his sleep already. He watched the lion dæmon’s claws unfurl from their sheathes, ticking lightly against the floor. Her eyes were locked on Darodrey. On her throat.

Good luck with that, bitch, Drey growled.

The bell sounded early, ringing clear above the crowd’s uproar. A look of frightened consternation darted across the referee’s face, but he did the sensible thing and tossed aside his dignity to sprint out of the way of the two fighters. Not a second too late, either: Nova came at Dante like a boulder in an avalanche.

Nova jabbed with his right hand, but expectedly the blow was weak enough for Dante to smash it aside with his forearm and return one of his own. It snapped Nova’s head back, snapped something else as well. Blood splattered down his chin, his nose a pulpy mess. His dæmon hissed in pain.

There was definitely hate in those eyes now.

Dante flicked some of the blood of his hand as Nova came at him again. A grimace crossed his face as Drey fastened her teeth deep enough in his dæmon’s foreleg to scrape bone, but his next punch whistled toward Dante’s face. Dante had to duck to the side to avoid it. It clipped his ear instead of knocking out his teeth, and Dante didn’t bother straightening, just slammed his fist into his stomach.

The angle was wrong, but Nova folded anyway, and Dante jerked his knee up. It caught his chin was a satisfying clatter of teeth. Nova fell backward, and cried out – not for himself, though.

Darodrey had his dæmon’s neck between her jaws and was shaking her violently, back and forth, back and forth as if she were trying to rip clean through to her spine. The lion twisted under her, loose skin bunching, and ripped at her face with jagged claws. Darodrey fell back reluctantly with red dripping from her mouth, snarling like thunder.

Claws, teeth, fists, two fights tangled into one. The noise was atrocious. Curses smudged into growls, roars, the sound of flesh ripping, skin and bone colliding.

Nova kicked Dante’s knee, forced him to down or risk a break. An arm found its hold around his neck. The demented cheers of the crowd dulled as if Dante had submerged his head underwater. Blood pounded thickly in his ears.

No time for fear, no hesitation. He grabbed Nova’s wrist in an iron grip and began to inexorably pry it away from his throat. Nova grunted from the strain – from surprise – his weight wavering on Dante’s back. The moment he could draw in a breath, he gathered himself and threw. Nova slammed into the ground, every scrap of air rushing painfully out of his lungs. His dæmon yowled. Dante was only half surprised when he rolled to his feet and came at him again immediately.

A sloppy mistake. To stay on the ground would mean the end of him, but to swing so quickly, so desperately, with his weight falling now onto his left side–

Dante left an opening. Waited.

And there was the left hand, twice as fast as the right, angled to catch him on the chin and knock him senseless.

Dante caught the punch by the wrist. He saw the panic flash in Nova’s eyes and waited just one moment more to let it set in, let him feel it. Then he twisted his arm under his own and drove downward with brutal efficiency. The bone shattered, and Nova screamed.

It was a ragged noise, an animal noise, the same that his dæmon gave as she writhed on the floor. Drey took advantage of the distraction by sinking her teeth in her shoulder and flinging her against the metal barrier.

Dante let the momentum carry Nova forward. The other man crashed to the floor, clutching at his arm. Dante noted distantly that he could see a shard of bone poking through the ripped skin at his elbow. Distant, far-away, nothing. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t a man. He was the roaring in his ears, the blur behind his eyes, the molten heat coursing through his veins. He was the mechanical action of kneeling over him, caging him in his knees, and smashing a punch into Nova’s cheekbone, feeling it give. Then his jaw, the imprint of the teeth within against his knuckles. Blackening an eye, splitting a lip to ruin. One punch ran into many. Raining until Nova resembled something out of a nightmare.

“Enough, enough or you’ll forfeit, I swear you’ll forfeit–”

He paused. There was a frantic, quiet voice in his ear. The referee had been trying to hold his arm back, but he hadn’t felt any resistance as he destroyed Nova’s face. Nova, whose body was a wreck. Nova, who he held between his knees.

In his mind, Jesse smiled up at him. His hands smoothed down his stomach, his thighs. Curious and trusting.

Nova groaned, blood bubbling from his lips.

Abruptly, Dante was sure he was going to be sick.

He staggered to his feet and lurched through the open cage door, shoving through the crowd. He would leave smudges of dark, dark crimson on their clothes wherever he touched them, he knew, but they couldn’t seem to get enough of it: hands showered down on him, patting, smacking, gripping, pushing and tugging. He could hear Darodrey snarling, only white noise that buzzed in his ears.

He burst through the back door into the reeking alleyway beyond. He stumbled against the wall, nails drawing bloody streaks down the uneven bricks. He stood there, and he shuddered.

But he wasn’t sick. He was nothing at all.

Darodrey whined and pressed her nose into his palm, licked at his trembling fingers, trying to clean off the blood. He could still feel the gore caught between her teeth. The torn flesh of a soul – such a terrible thing.

Diệu, Diệu, Diệu, she whispered.

The nothing coalesced slowly, becoming simply the bricks rough against his forehead. Out here in the cool and the smoke, the clouds had made good on their promise: a thin veil of rain misted the streets, gathered and trickled down between Dante’s shoulder blades. It should have steamed where it touched his skin, but it didn’t, because nothing here was pure. It tasted like soot in the back of his throat.

The door crashed open behind him. The violence echoed in his ears.

“They need you back,” June said, sharp as broken glass.

Dante didn’t reply.

“I said get back in there, Dante.”

Darodrey said, “No.”

“What.” The accent of the city made their voice flat and vicious. They turned their gaze to the dæmon.

The one without a soul, she thought.

“He hates this,” Darodrey said. She looked back at Dante, her eyes fathoms deep, gleaming starlike. “We hate this.”

“Liar!” June snapped. Drey laid back her ears. “You can be sweet with your boys as much as you like, you can pretend to be a husband and a friend, but this is you. This is what you were made to do, and you enjoy it.” A snarl twisted their voice.

Dante stood still for a terribly long time. An eternity, hanging in the faint drizzle, printed in stinging flesh. Jesse would call it a postcard moment. He knew it would never leave him, even when it was nothing more than a memory.

June let their words sink in in silence, their nails biting red crescents into their own palms.

Then Dante pushed off from the wall and it was a horribly efficient, broken motion. He straightened, wiped the beading rain from his face with one bloodstained hand. He didn’t look at June, nor Darodrey, but as he turned back to the den she moved with him, closer than his shadow. The roar and the heat thundered through the door to welcome them both.

June was left standing in the alley alone.

“This will ruin them,” Thyne said. It shifted where it hid tucked behind their breast pocket, wings fluttering in the place of their heartbeat.

They said nothing.

#Drey is a Hmong docked tail dog #and Thyne is a shrike #my writing #Dante #June #my OCs #I'm so fucking proud of this asdfghjkl #......... sigh.#long post #look at me actually trying to edit something for once lmao

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charlyritter · 4 years

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Quarantine Q&A

I was tagged by @youknowwobbles

Are you staying home from work/school?

I work remotely anyway, it’s just that I normally go out to work at the university library or a public library to create more of a distance between my work life and my private life. So right now I’m obviously just staying home, yeah

If you’re staying home, who’s there with you?

I moved back in with my parents (and my brother) for the time being because it’s pretty hard to self-isolate at the dorms

Are you a homebody?

Honestly I don’t want to dismiss anyone’s feelings but I absolutely cannot FATHOM how anyone could ever be bored at home. Home (and ESPECIALLY when I’m alone!) is probably the only place where I’m never bored because I have full control over what I get to do. Besides my libraries I don’t miss anything at all, especially since we’re still allowed to go on walks here (but if I’m being completely honest, as much as I love those, I have to force myself to leave the house even for those. I love being home so much.)

What movies have you watched recently? What shows are you watching?

God I’m still working so hard on getting better at watching movies but... it is what it is. I pretty much only watched German TV movies lately because they had actors I like (Fühlen Sie sich manchmal ausgebrannt und leer, Idiotentest, Der Sommer nach dem Abitur :D)

As for TV shows, I’m catching up on Better Call Saul, High Seas and Au Service de la France and I just started rewatching Remington Steele which I’ve been wanting to do for YEARS and now I’m just doing it, I’m so excited

An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

It’s so hard for me to be sad when an event gets cancelled (because that means I get to stay home! See above!). I was looking forward to going to the Drei Fragezeichen tour a second time (with good seats this time!) but it’s only postponed not cancelled. And there was a movie I wanted to see before they closed the movie theaters but yeah, I can just see that later. My mom and I were going to go to Austria to meet up with my aunt. Oh, and I was going to visit my friend in Frankfurt several times to work on our theses together, that actually does kinda suck :/

What music are you listening to?

As always, just random songs, I pretty much never listen to more than one song by an artist

What are you reading?

I’m once again having a kids mysteries phase so I’m basically just reading... Thomas Brezina’s entire bibliography, plus Kafka’s letters to Milena Jesenská

What are you doing for self-care?

just what I always do, mainly reading

#honestly I'm feeling guilty for how much I'm enjoying this time/for how little it's affecting me #the only negative thing that has happened to me is that I had to change my thesis topic because I can't go to a lab or anywhere else to #do an experiment #personal #ask me(me)s

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archdovah · 5 years

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Mal Dovah (little dragon) - Miraak x tld oneshot

Can be found here on AO3 (with the translations of the Dragon Language)

Summary:

A month ago, the last dragonborn released Miraak from Apocrypha. In return for his release, Hermaeus Mora bound him to her in a ritual she did not understand the implications of until it was too late to go back. What was the cost of her soul and who owned it now?(Miraak x tld oneshot, Hermaeus is only spoken of and does not make an appearance, small nsfw part)

A/N: BEHOLD my long overdue Miraak x ldb fanfic cause we all wanna romance those we can’t have (in vanilla).

She looked up at him, through the flickering light of the campfire. She bit her lower lip and looked up at the stars. Devines, how did she get here. Well… she knew that. But looking at the man beside her alone was enough to make her feel like the fire dragons could breathe was burning inside of her instead. That feeling crept up on her. At this point she thought she’d need it to keep her alive and breathing.

“Miraak.” She paused but he didn’t respond. “ I don’t believe I’ve said this to you in a while but… I’m sorry. He gave me the choice and I am aware you’d rather be with anyone else but me. “ “ He made me aware of the alternative option. Of what would happen if I opt to abandon you.”

She swallowed hard. The idea of him leaving her terrified her for two reasons. One, Miraak loose on Nirn could be a recipe for disaster. She had broken his spell over Solstheim but he was still powerful. Regardless of whether his powers had been subdued. Two, she didn’t want him to leave. His voice resounded again, louder than her thoughts even without the echo she had gotten used to in Apocrypha. “I owe you an apology as well. I only attempted to kill you because it was my only way out. Fate decreed that you had to die so that I could win my freedom. I did not wish you harm personally. I regretted it as I was watching you.” “ Stealing my dragon souls.” She muttered, frowning at him in some glimmer she still felt over that. “ Yes. In many ways, this is a far more favourable outcome.”

She scraped her throat. “ So what is this… ritual he did anyway. It almost seemed like some sort of marriage ceremony.” Miraak threw a branch into the fire. “ Nii Lost. “ She looked at him, dumbstruck, and this time he looked back. “Excuse me?” Miraak grinned in the way he tended when he knew something she did not. Smug. Arrogant. “It was. Did you truly believe he wouldn’t get anything out of this? We’re the only two dovakhiin in this world. He wants to know what happens when we are put together, we are his experiment. He seeks to find out if we’ll kill each other or strengthen each other. No better way to test that than to tie us together by a bond not even Akatosh can break.” “ But we did not choose it. It is invalid if it was a marriage. And there was no priest there, he couldn’t… ” “ I am a dragon priest. And you freely agreed to being tied to me for the rest of your life, did you not? If I recall correctly, you even yelled it to Hermeaus Mora. I agreed as well, otherwise the binding ritual would not have worked and he would have killed me regardless. He merely added that we cannot stray from each other until a certain distance.” She hugged her legs, head leaning on her knees. What a mess. “ What if we get too powerful? What if I seek to take over Nirn too, as you did.” “ Then he has shaped history once more. Hermaeus Mora is laughing at us, you know. He will likely await our demise or reign in the one of us who outlives the other. Offer us a miracle solution to cure us from our grief. Unless we were to have a child.” She scoffed. “A child.”

He wasn’t laughing and it made her heart beat so fast that she could feel it in her throat. “ You think that could happen? I mean... knowing what needs to happen in order to conceive a child.” “ I am aware that you feel connected to me, even without the ritual. “ “ I already told you that I do not approve of the way you seek to read me Miraak.” “ Zu Drey Ni.” She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean you did not?” He sighed and moved closer to her. He looked at her, took his glove off and outstretched his hand to her. He put hers on it and watched as he turned it upwards. He traced a finger from its palm to her shoulder. “Morah. It feels like a fire does it not? Scorching yet pleasant.” She nodded.

“ I cannot sense that from you.” She laughed. “You read about this? What kind of books did you read in Apocrypha? I mean it must have gotten lonely but…” He shook his head, looking her straight in the eyes with a very serious expression. She stopped laughing. “Have been with another Dragonborn before?” He shook his head again and glanced down at her lips for a second. That is when it dawned on her. “ You feel it too.” “Geh, Mal Dovah.“ “ What does that mean? Yes, little dragon?” He nodded. “ How do I know this is no trick? How could you feel this and still have wanted me dead?” She felt all the more hurt and pulled her arm back and got up, shaking her head. “This is a trick.” “ He believed you were no threat of me doing that because of this bond. Why else would I complimente you during battle rather than trying to break your spirit? How else could I call you back to my tower as often as I like. He thought I would not be able to harm you because it would tear me asunder. But I already was broken and blinded.”

“ And so you almost did.” She could feel tears burning in her eyes and they infuriated her. “ You fought me as well did you not? I was certain that there could be no future with us both in it. Krosis.” She gritted her teeth as he got up too and walked towards her. Careful, as if he was concerned he would scare her away. He stopped very close to her, closer to her than he had ever allowed himself to be and reached for her waist. She let him, looking at his face. She remembered the first time he had removed his mask, how it knocked the breath right out of her. A sense of possessiveness and belonging had mixed with her anger. She hadn’t expected to feel attracted to him physically as well, but as soon as she’d seen his face. Somewhat scarred but still young, still handsome, still wild and tempestuous in his stare. She remembered how his eyes had lingered on her too, but as if he was confirming something. Confusion and anger, but he had seen hers before. He already knew.

She reached up to his face and placed her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into it with his lips slightly parted as he breathed out. “ You do not owe me anything. I will not force a relationship on you. I owe you my freedom.” “ Yet you are shackled to me, with him likely watching.” “ He had my soul and in his presence in the ritual, he gave it to you. And you gave yours to me.” She swallowed. She had repeated his words in the dragon tongue and had guessed as much. But hearing it confirmed…

“ So where do we go from here?” She whispered to him, feeling far more vulnerable than she had. “ I told you that I know things that the Greybeards will never teach you. I can teach you even more than you know.” “ You know damn well that is not what I am talking about.” He remained silent. “ What do you wish to happen next?” “ How would it feel when we…” She noticed a small smile on his face. “ I do not know that. Vonmindoraan? Frin? Unslaad?. “ “Yeah thinking is not an option right now so you’ll have to tell me what that means.” “ Incomprehensible? Hot? Eternal? My guess is as good as yours. “

He reached for the side of her neck, gently. She looked up at him, again feeling her pulse in her head and it was going a little too fast. “ Do you want to know?” “ Dreh hi?” She stood on her tiptoes and barely managed to reach his lips with hers and she made the most of it before she whispered to his lips. “Geh. Even if just because your behaviour afterwards will likely tell me all I need to know about where your loyalty lies.” He grabbed her by the arms and put her against the wall. “Then we will not.” “ Why not?” “ He may wish for me to take you by force but I shall not.” “ By f..? This is not my first time, Miraak. I have a potion which keeps me from getting pregnant.” “ But you do not wish to. You merely wish to test me. If I ever do have you, it will be because you want me as I want you.” She couldn’t stop a grin which she imagined looked a lot like his when he knew something she did not. “Social cues are your Talos’ heel aren’t they?” He looked confused and a little angry because of it. She grabbed his hand and led him towards their tent and on her sleeping bag. She sat on top of his lap and he allowed her to do so. Then she took the top part of her armour off, shivering in the cold with only a breastband to cover her torso. He immediately put a hand on her collarbone and she felt warm again. “ Hi Los Brit.” Ok. Focus. She opened her eyes. “ Do you want me? ” “ It does not matter.” “ It does.” She leaned forward, pushed down his robe and kissed him on the neck. She then leaned backwards again. “ Because if you are truly mine, I want you.”

She saw a shift in the way he looked at her. Something more animalistic and hungry. Before she knew it, his hand gripped the back of her head and his lips were rough on hers. He felt how he pulled her closer onto his lap and moaned as she moved against him. He didn’t want to let go when she wanted to take off her armour. She whispered “Let me go.” Into his ear and he did, clearly not happy about it. “Take off your armour.” He seemed to doubt for a second, but when she helped him with it and placed burning kisses on every surface that was revealed, he no longer seemed to mind. She only skipped one area and grinned at him when she took a step back. His eyes didn’t leave her as she undressed. He seemed entranced. What followed next released something within her that she could only describe as feral. He seemed careful at first and it made her feel restless and all the more impatient. She commanded him “Uznahgaar” through gritted teeth as her nails dug into his back. She tried to get him closer, deeper, faster. When he finally did stop holding back, she felt the vigor and ferosity he had put into their fight once more. But this time it did not feel destructive, it was as if the way he moved in her forged their souls together. As if every hungry kiss was a lifeline. It indeed did feel indescribable, hot, and like they could keep burning forever.

When they were panting beside each other after, she was still laying on his arm. She looked over at him, unbelieving that this morning she was still wondering if he considered her any more than a nuisance. “ You…” she was still catching her breath “… feel any different? Want to betray me yet?” He grabbed her leg and put it over his before he grabbed the small of her back and pulled her against his body. “ What do you think, Mal Dovah?” He was also slightly out of breath when he asked her and kissed her neck the way she had kissed his before they began. She didn't respond and tangled her fingers in his messy hair when he let stopped and she could focus again. To some extent at least. “ I think that if I wasn’t already married to you that I would want to now.” She laughed and moaned as she felt his finger trace her spine. She looked him in the eye again, foreheads now almost touching. He placed his hand right above her left breast and she still felt it burn but it left no mark. “ Zu’u los hin. Hi Los Dii.“ “ I am yours, you are mine?”

He kissed the top of her head, more softly than she had ever figured he’d be capable of, and eased against him. “ We should have done this a month ago, would have made our travels a lot more pleasant.” He played puled her even closer and kissed her again. “ I did not trust you yet, then.” “ YOU didn’t trust ME?” her voice sounded a lot more high-pitched than he was used to and she heard a warm laugh coming from him. It was glorious. “ Miraak?” “ Hm?” “ … nevermind.” “ I believe I do too, Mal Dovah.”

#Miraak #Miraak x dovahkiin #miraak x tld #the last dragonborn #miraak fanfic #miraak fanfiction #tes v #tes v: skyrim #skyrim #yes there's smut #behold

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sanctuaryforascrivener · 7 years

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what’s past is prologue

Word Count: ~4.6k Read on ao3 First in the series Martin of Mossflower. Beta’d by @raphcrow

Summary: One choice remade, and the benefits and consequences of it that spiral outward. Or, what if Luke’s tribe had stayed to fight Verdauga, instead of fleeing North? How much would have changed? How much would have stayed the same?

Next Chapter

The thing about stories, you see…

Almost two score mice huddle together for warmth under the branches of Mossflower woods. Their home lies behind them, a violated wreck of its former comfort. Their leader stands watch at the edge of the camp, paws on the pommel stone of a sword, the tip resting lightly on a scree of autumn leaves. He is uncertain, and afraid, but shows his tribe nothing but confidence. His ears twitch back, listening to the murmurings of the elders, the fitful cries of the young ones, confused and cold.

Something must be done.

A shape looms out of the darkness suddenly, and the mouse brings his sword up, ready to parry or stab or slash. “Peace,” the shape says, voice gruff but gentle, as a badger steps closer.

“Bella,” the mouse says, and stands down to let her pass. Behind him, the mice relax and chatter to each other quietly, the whisper of voices barely louder than the wind through the leaves.

Bella looks down at him, compassion and grief writ in every line of her sturdy body. “I heard what happened—I’m so sorry about your father, Luke.”

The mouse nods once, tightly, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he grinds his teeth. “We’re not safe here,” he says. “Not with that cat and his vermin.” The mice behind him have gone quiet again, listening to every word that passes between Luke and their badger friend.

“My home is yours, Luke, as long as you wish for it to be,” Bella says softly, liquid brown eyes pitch black in the moonlight. “Brockhall was designed for badgers. We’ve easily the space for all of you.”

Luke looks over his tribe again, counting the families, the tiny ones. So many old, so many young, so many lost.

…is that they’re never really settled.

“Aye,” he says at last, and sheaths his sword, the hilt sticking up over his right shoulder. “Thankee, Bella, for your hospitality. Someday we’ll repay you.” He turns, placing both hands on his hips, and issues orders in a quiet, though stern voice. “Vurg, Denno, I want you two at the back concealin’ tracks. Can’t have those scum trackin’ us back to Bella’s home. Pair up, the rest o’ you, an’ carry what little ‘uns you can. I’m not losin’ any more. Sayna?”

A pretty young mousewife slips her paw into his, the other resting over her middle. “I’m here, Luke.” He squeezes her paw in relief.

All a story is is a beast making one choice—

Sayna stands in front of a shamefaced Luke, mousebabe tucked firmly under one arm like a sack of potatoes, her other paw gripping a sheathed sword by the hilt. Bella and Barkstripe exchange amused looks as the mousewife lectures her chief, emphasizing each phrase with the sword. The rest of the tribe keep their heads down, muffling laughter into their breakfast plates.

“And what, pray tell, have I told you about leaving this around?” Sayna demands.

“‘Twasn’t around,” Luke protests. “‘Twas next to me. I had my eye on it, love—”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me, Luke, Son of Martin.” Sayna swings the sword up to point directly at her husband. The babe under her arm watches it avidly. “And if you’d had an eye on it, I wouldn’t have found your son halfway out the dining hall doing his best to haul it with him!”

Luke looks impressed. “Well, he’s gettin’ stronger, isn’t he?” He ducks under the sword and rescues the babe, dancing back out of range again before Sayna can give him a rap with the sheathe. He swings him up onto sturdy shoulders, giving his wife a winning, roguish smile. “Martin’s a warrior born, and knows what he’s after, that’s all—yowch!”

Martin has seized on his father’s ears for balance, grip unexpectedly strong for a mousebabe only a few weeks old. The hall’s attempt at keeping a straight face fails miserably, and Sayna relents, a wry smile stealing over her whiskers as their friends and family laugh. She steps closer, brushing her nose to Luke’s and pressing the sword back into his paws. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she says, and scrunches her nose up at her babe, serious expression framed by his father’s ears. “Both of you.”

—and another—

The three badgers sit before the fire in the common room of Brockhall, sipping mulled cider from mugs the size of Luke’s head. “It’s not slavery,” Barkstripe says, voice slow and measured. “They’ve their own homes, they’re not locked away, they’ll keep the produce come harvest.” He looks at his wife, but Bella only shakes her head.

“Only after giving half of it to the fortress as levy. That cat’s a clever one,” she says, staring into the fire. “Call it protection, discredit resistance. Make it easier to go along. There’re already dozens of families in that compound, those afraid to risk the lives of their little ones by rebelling.”

“Aye,” their guest agrees. “Set curfews, overseers in the fields to guard against outside threats and make sure everybeast is working, leave off chains and locks so they can convince themselves it’s not slavery. Forbid creatures from wandering off the lands, or carrying weapons for protection, because what need do they have for it, with soldiers surrounding them?” She takes a long draught of cider. “It’s not slavery, no, but it’s not freedom either.”

Barkstripe sighs heavily. “Yes. But we’re not fighters, Rowanoak, only farmers. What can we do?”

Rowanoak shakes her head. “I don’t know, friend. I don’t know.”

—and another.

“Somethin’ must be done.”

It is usual, now, to hear the mouse chieftain in discussion with their host, late at night after the young ones have gone to sleep.

“Aye,” Barkstripe agrees, the response worn with repetition. “But we don’t have the skills to fight back.”

“We do,” Luke counters. Barkstripe glances at him. “We do,” he repeats, insistently. “I’ve been about. Those otters can spear a fish quick as a wink, an’ squirrel archers are nothin’ to sneeze at. Gather volunteers, anyone who wants—we can train up a fighting force.”

Barkstripe shakes his head, the flicker of hope dying in his eyes, unnoticed until it has vanished. “Luke, my friend, I respect your spirit. You know that. And you’re right, there are skilled beasts in Mossflower, but those skills haven’t been tested against an enemy before. The otters hunt for fish, the squirrels protect their dreys from rooks and other hunting birds. You’ll have a hard time convincing any of them that outright war against the cat’s horde is wise.”

Firelight glints red in Luke’s eyes. “‘Tisn’t. And outright war isn’t my plan. We’re outnumbered an' under-trained. But this winter’s colder than any I can remember, an' that cat’s sittin' in the fortress warm and snug.” He leans forward, tapping the table with one paw to emphasize his words. “We take the time fate’s given us, and we train now, practice now. Come spring, we strike an' retreat, strike an' retreat, sting Greeneyes like bees. You can’t fight bees with a sword. Eventually, we’ll whittle him down enough that he has to flee.”

The course of a story isn’t like a stream running through the woods.

Luke crouches low in the newly budded undergrowth, paw clenching around his smoke-blackened sword. He breathes shallowly, counting as the vermin patrol passes. A handful of squirrels wait above him, ready at his signal to strike, then flee through the treetops. The rearguard passes. Luke tenses, ready for his ambush.

“Sure now, I’d not do that, if’n I were you,” a low voice murmurs from his left.

Luke twists his head sharply to the side to see a mouse lying beside him, mimicking his own posture. She gives him a broad wink. “There’s another gang comin’ along behind ‘em. Afraid ol’ Greeneyes is gettin’ wise to your tactics, me friend.”

“Who the devil are you?” Luke hisses, more frustrated with himself that he’s failed to notice her than hostile. She clearly isn’t an enemy.

The mouse grins widely, and offers him a lazy paw to shake. “Siobhan, yer honor. Me ol’ man’s at Brockhall with the little ‘un.”

Luke accepts the paw, still looking at Siobhan with a measure of skepticism. “Aye?”

“Aye. Y’know a lot about the warrior stuff, Luke me friend, but ye could stand for a few lessons on sneakin’ about.” Though her eyes hold a twinkle, they’re also hard and unyielding. “That’s why I’m here. Queen o’ Mousethieves, Warrior. At yer service.”

It’s more like a ship at the mercy of the waves.

Luke’s thinking about Sayna and Martin again. Sayna, and how hard he had had to work to win Windred over to him, to convince her that he loved Sayna more than life itself and would treat her well, that he wasn’t just the rough-and-tumble warrior she saw. How Sayna had beamed at him on the day of their marriage. How she had looked by the fire in St. Ninian’s, cuddled up into his side with the red glow of the embers limning her fur in a halo. How happy she’d been when she’d come to him and told him she was pregnant, that they’d have a child together.

How big little Martin is getting, a season and a half old and following him everywhere around Brockhall like a little shadow. How serious the babe is, watching everyone with wide, grey eyes. Just like his mother’s. Always biting off more than he can chew, too, trying to haul soup pots to the kitchen that are bigger than he is, or carrying Windred’s mending for her, even though every step threatens to get him tangled in the shirt or smock she’s repairing. Sayna always says that’s his fault, his obstinacy, and then she turns around and does the same thing, organizing an expedition to gather medicinal herbs and not taking “no” for an answer.

His little family.

Luke’s thinking about Sayna and Martin again, as he whirls his father’s blade over his head and slices through a stoat. As he leaps forward across the parade ground of Kotir, crossing his blade with the shaft of a weasel’s spear, slicing through the oak to gut the creature behind it. As he stands, parrying another seeking spear point, as he lashes out, as he ducks and slices at unprotected footpaws, as he cleaves through a shield.

As the arrows thud into his body. As he fights on. As he reaches the doors of the fortress. As he leans against them, trying to catch his breath. Trying to ignore the pain. Trying to hear Siobhan beside him, yelling insults at the vermin surrounding them.

As he reaches the gates of Dark Forest, Luke’s thinking about Sayna and Martin.

One twitch of the tiller—

Sayna stands outside Brockhall, leaning against the solid oak and watching the rising sun. Her eyes are red rimmed with exhaustion, and the tree is the only thing holding her up, but she won’t move until she knows for sure. One way or another. Martin dozes at her feet. He’s escaped from Windred three times now, always coming straight back to her. The last time, her mother had just left them a blanket and gone back to bed, muttering something about how letting two such stubborn mice have a child was Fate’s mistake. Sayna sinks to her knees and strokes his head, tucking the blanket more firmly about his tiny frame.

When the squirrel messenger drops out of the trees in front of her, Sayna already knows what he will say. Later, she thinks she knew before Luke had marched to Kotir, or perhaps even before she married him. Luke was always going to die fighting, sword in paw. There was no other fate for him.

The day Sayna walks through the gates to the compound with Windred by her side and Martin bundled on her back, she stares up at Kotir and makes a promise to herself. Her weapons are not steel and oak, but she’ll keep fighting, too. She will forge hope and hone it to a point, and use it to strike at the heart of Kotir. Whether it’s in four seasons or a score, she will live to see the fortress fall.

—one push off course—

“Why aren’ you out in the fields wit’ the others?” The weasel confronts a young mouse in the middle of the empty street. He’s missing two teeth.

Martin would dearly love to up the count to three, but he curls his paws into fists and restrains himself. “I’m taking care of my grandmother.”

“Why isn’ she out in the fields wit’ the others?” It’s a ferret this time, another of the squad on patrol through the compound.

“She’s ill,” Martin says. “I’m getting her some water.”

“I’m gettin’ her some water…?” The weasel repeats, using the butt of his spear to tap at Martin’s footpaws. The ferret behind him snickers.

He knows what they’re after, and he would rather swallow his tongue than give it to them. But his grandmother is sick at home, and they need more water. “I’m getting her some water, sir,” he says, taking a step back out of range.

“No you’re not,” the weasel says with a grin. “You’re goin’ out to the fields. It’s ‘arvest time, everyone’s supposed to be out by order of Lord Greeneyes.”

“My grandmother is sick,” Martin repeats, and takes another step back, fury building. “Someone needs to take care of her. Sir,” he adds bitterly, hoping it might give him just a little leeway.

“Likely story, and even if it isn’, she can take care o’ herself,” the ferret scoffs, and prods him in the back, ready to herd him towards the field. “C’mon, mouse, get to work.”

“I’m not going to the fields!” Martin snaps. “And you’re a fool if you think that’s just a story!”

This time, the butt of the spear trips him. The guards stand over him, laughing. “Mutiny, eh?” The weasel says. He crouches down in front of Martin, tone mocking. “Well, mouse, if you apologize, maybe I won’t toss you in the cells for the night. You’re still young enough to learn obedience, aintcha?”

—and the story may land somewhere else.

The stoat has his claws tangled in the back of Martin’s smock as he holds him well away from his body, and he’s too small to do any real damage. He doesn’t let this stop him. Martin swings wildly from the guard’s grip, kicking and writhing and generally determined to be as inconvenient as possible.

“Izzat the one what broke Blackfur’s nose?” another guard asks, watching the stoat with fascination. “Lil’ thing like that?”

“Nah, just mouthed off and managed to get a kick in,” the stoat snaps back. “Just git the door open, would you, my arm’s about to fall off! Oi, hold still, damn you!”

Martin growls, and swipes at the guard’s wrist. The stoat flinches, but the chainmail shirt he’s wearing protects him from any real damage. He’s about to try again when the stoat shakes him, hard.

“‘Ere, toss ‘im with the other one. Easier to feed two at once,” the guard says, heaving open a heavy door. The stoat shakes him again for good measure before chucking him in. He collides with another figure just inside the door, and they both go spinning ears over tail. Before Martin can sort out whose limbs are whose, the door is already shut.

“Coward!” Martin shouts. “Lily-livered scum!”

His fellow prisoner giggles breathlessly. “You’re not wrong,” he says, “But d’you mind not hollerin’ it in my ear?”

It takes another moment or two for the pair to get untangled, until at last two mice peer curiously at each other in the gloom of the dungeon. The older one winks. “I’m Gonff,” he says, and offers a paw. “The guards didn’ appreciate my impression of an ottermaid I know. Seemed to think I was mockin’ Miss Tsarmina, even when I told ‘em it wasn’t true. Didya really break a guard’s nose like ‘e said?”

“No,” Martin says, taking the paw. “Kind of wish I had. I’m Martin. Why did they think you were making fun of Tsarmina?”

Gonff grin widens and he launches into a high pitched voice. “What do you mean I’m not allowed to go out on my own? It’s not fair! I’m going to scream and throw things until I get my way!” There’s a bit of a yowl in his voice. Either he’s imitating an otter very badly, or he’s doing a fair impression of the older, brattier child of Verdauga. Martin laughs helplessly. Gonff joins in, and the pair sit giggling in the straw until they’re both breathless.

Somewhere uncharted.

Sayna’s grip on Martin’s shoulder is tight, but not painful. He knows he worries her, and he doesn’t like to do that, but he dislikes the vermin so callously in charge of their lives more. She doesn’t say a word on the walk back to their hut, doesn’t even look at him, and when they arrive at their door, Martin’s long since prepared himself for a lecture.

Sayna just dabs at a cut over his eye with the corner of her apron. “Telling you not to fight is as useless as telling the spring rain not to fall,” she says at last. “So I won’t.” Martin looks at her, not sure he’s heard her correctly. She smiles, though it looks painful. “I never thought you’d just go along, Martin. But if you must fight, please, do so with your head.”

Martin considers this. He suspects she means something besides headbutting a guard, but he’s not sure what. “How?”

She crosses her arms and looks him up and down. “There are more weapons than tooth and claw, sword and spear,” she says at last. Sayna turns to gaze out over the huts of the hovel—hardly there for five seasons, and already starting to fall apart. “And more strength than that in your limbs. There’s strength in community and joy. Right now, we are scared, scattered. Defeated. But eventually…” She looks back down at her son. “Even if we were strong, our spirit is weak. We could never win, not now. Do you understand?”

“No,” Martin admits.

Sayna hums. “For now, that means helping other woodlanders, cheering them up, and not attacking the guards. Can you do that?”

Martin bites at the fur on the side of his paw as he thinks. “I think so.”

In the now, we can never know what might have been.

“Oi! What d’ye think you’re doin’ there?” The accusation carries over the fields, and Martin looks up to see a ferret guard berating Twoola. “Keep pullin’ up those carrots, don’ stop!”

“Chestnuts, d’you think?” Gonff murmurs next to him.

Martin makes a face. “We do chestnuts too often,” he says. “What about cheeses?”

Gonff groans. “Fine,” he says, sounding incredibly put upon. “But don’t bite m’ear, will you? I could have sworn you took a bit out of it last time.” Without further discussion, he launches himself at Martin with a loud shout. “You rotten little fibber, you take that back!”

“Will not!” Martin yells, as the pair go rolling over and over along the row of radishes they’re tending. Miraculously, they don’t damage a single leaf. “You’re the one who stepped on my tail! Say you’re sorry!”

“Won’t!”

“Will!”

The shouts soon attract the attention of every guard within hearing range, and the ferret leaves off to come rushing over, whacking both of them as they struggle and fight, kicking and nipping and shoving loose dirt down each other’s smocks. It takes more than five minutes for the pair to be separated, but by the time they do, the ferret has long forgotten the exhausted, elderly mouse who wasn’t working quickly enough.

Bruised and dirty, Gonff and Martin are given a good scrub in the bath when they get home, as well as an extra slice of nutty bread to split between them.

We can only choose—

When winter screams across the hills Hey-oh, away-oh! We’ll huddle close against the chill Hey-oh, away-oh! Snow and ice won’t bother me As long as I have family Oh heave, haul, away-oh!

Sayna leads the woodlanders in the old season song as they crawl through the turnip patch, pulling up the roots and tossing them in their baskets.

When spring storms sweep across the plain, Hey-oh, away-oh! We’ll stay inside out of the rain, Hey-oh, away-oh! Rain will help the flowers grow This my friends and I do know, Oh heave, haul, away-oh!

They’re under guard as always. Martin’s paws are scratched, his back is sore, and he’s hungry. But he sings out as loudly as the rest, the song keeping the rhythm quick and easy.

When summer sun shines hot and bright, Hey-oh, away-oh! We’ll swim in streams so cool and light, Hey-oh, away-oh! It’s fun to laugh with friends and play In these high midsummer days, Oh heave, haul, away-oh!

He glances up and sees the bewilderment on the face of one of the guard’s, the way he shuffles away from the woodlanders who are singing as joyfully as if they would be allowed to keep the whole harvest. Martin grins fiercely, and raises his voice.

When there’s a chill in autumn’s breeze Hey-oh, away-oh! And gold and red touch chestnut leaves, Hey-oh, away-oh! Harvest, plenty, feast, and care With all my friends and family share Oh heave, haul, away-oh!

—and choose—

“Your mum would tan your tail if she found out you had that,” Gonff says as they walk bank side.

Martin raises one eyebrow, swinging his smuggled sling back and forth. “Maybe. And she’d tan your tail if she knew who’d been nicking bread off the Spikes’ window sill.” Gonff shrugs, unrepentant. “‘Sides, Skipper says I’m a natural, but I’ve still got to practice.”

Gonff grins. “Skipper says he wishes I were an otter, so I could be part o’ his crew.”

“He never,” Martin challenges, elbowing his friend in the side. “He says you’re a cove and a river pirate. I’ve heard him.”

“Ha! Just goes to show what you know, matey!” Gonff adds a swagger to his walk, swinging his tail as if it’s the thick rudder of an otter. “Blow me, but I’d be part o’ Skipper’s crew faster’n it’d take me to empty a pot o’ good ole hotroot soup.” His feet tangle mid-swagger and he trips, leaping up to the sound of Martin’s laughter.

“You liar! You chugged five cups of water the last time you had a spoonful!”

Gonff quickly changes the subject. “Well, go on, then, I want to see these natural sling talents o’ yours.”

“All right,” Martin says, starting to swing more purposeful circles. “Pick a target?”

“Betcha can’t hit the limb on that dead ol’ ash,” Gonff says, pointing out a tree on the opposite side of the bank and further up the stream. Martin narrows his eyes and, after a few more twirls, whips off a stone that smashes into the limb with a crack. This is quickly followed by a loud and angry buzzing.

With a shared look of horror, Martin and Gonff drag each other into the river, splashing down into the shallows near a bed of reeds, where the water is still enough to not carry them off.

When the yellow-jackets depart several minutes later, the pair of bedraggled mice emerge from the shallows. They’d gotten underwater quickly enough to avoid most of the swarm’s retaliation, and they apply pawfuls of sticky river mud to each other to ease the stings.

“Too bad they weren’t bees,” Gonff says after a moment. “We might’ve had some honey.” Martin shoves him backwards at this, and then races to rejoin the gathering party, Gonff close behind him.

—and hope that we’re brought safe to shore…

Gonff eases the door closed as they sneak away from the gathering in the Stickles’ home and towards Martin’s, where they’re supposed to be asleep. They don’t go in yet. The summer night is warm and the sky clear. Instead, Martin braces himself against the wall, and Gonff climbs onto the roof, hauling Martin up to join him.

“So that’s what’s been goin’ on,” Gonff says at last as they dangle their legs over the edge and stare at the stars. “I thought the guards were gettin’ a bit tense.”

“Mm. Explains a lot,” Martin agrees. His eyes are drawn to the hulk of Kotir, black with slime and shadows. “Verdauga’s ill, so Tsarmina’s taking on more power.”

“Guess Gingivere’s not gonna inherit after all.”

Martin scowls. “Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“I dunno, matey. Gingivere’s not a bad sort, for a wildcat.”

“A tyrant is a tyrant,” Martin argues, “even if they’re a benevolent tyrant.” He kicks his footpaws against the wall, and voices something he’s been thinking about for a long time. “Even if we do rise up, and get rid of Greeneyes, and Tsarmina, and the army, another one would come along. As long as Kotir’s there, there’s going to be some band of scum that want to come along and take it.”

Gonff snorts. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but what’re we going to do? Tear down a fortress? It’s been there for seasons and seasons.”

“We won’t be free until that thing is gone,” Martin says, still staring at Kotir. “Not really.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, then,” Gonff says, and leans back on his paws, staring up. “We’ve still got an army and three wildcats to worry about before we get that far, matey.” Martin just nods, leaning forward to put his chin in his paws, thinking. “Someday ole Mossflower’ll be free again,” Gonff says after a long, pensive silence. “You’ll see.”

“Aye,” Martin agrees, eyes hard and glinting in the moonlight. “Someday...”

...and not lost at sea.

“...even if I have to die to make it so.”

#redwall #Martin the Warrior #Mossflower #fic #redwall fic #Martin of Mossflower

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surveys-at-your-service · 7 years

Text

Survey #90

“i’d rather die on my feet than live a life on my knees.”

what do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? heartbreak. what is your favorite bird? barn owls. i also love crows and ravens though because they're so smart. how would you like to die? in my sleep, but surrounded by family. i want them to actually know i'm dying so they don't have to deal with the sheer shock of just waking up to me dead. think of your last ten kisses, were they with the same person? no. do you think making out is slutty? no? will you cry at your wedding? i can just about guarantee i will. how many wives or husbands do you want? just one. what were you doing when you found out michael jackson was dead? i was swimming. would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? lake. what is your father's middle name? john. what's your favorite anime? "fullmetal alchemist." i like both iterations pretty much the same, both the original and "brotherhood." is there always going to be that one person you and a friend makes fun of? no. if you could live for a year with any foreign family, where would you go? germany! are you afraid of living alone? yes. i honestly don't think i could do it. what do you draw more than anything else? meerkats. are you the type who is completely against abortion? why? fuck yes, because you will never get me to believe that a fetus is any more human after it's born. it's a human from the start. have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? "johnny got his gun" by dalton trumbo, my favorite book. it didn't change my perspective, but it definitely heightened my pacifism. do you brag about being different than everyone else? no, because despite being very different, it embarrasses me. what do you think about william shakespeare’s work? he's great. what would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? i would legitimately cry. i would go into a huge depression if meerkats ever went extinct. what’s your name, anyways? brittany. has anyone ever complimented you on how sweet you can be? yeah. what was the last brutally honest comment you made about someone? like a week ago. a friend of mine posted her fucking self-mutilation pictures on facebook and i called her out on that bullshit. you don't fucking do that. she's honestly a pretty childish person that contradicts herself constantly, but i care for her regardless. do you keep in contact with any of your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends? nope. how was your birthday this year? i was in a mental hospital. guess. lmao. would you like to have a pet horse? if i had a big enough property, definitely. have you read the entire harry potter series? i haven't read a single book. have you seen the deathly hallows? i think so... but i didn't pay attention to it. can you play the piano? no. can you read sheet music? i doubt i could anymore. do you enjoy poetry? absolutely. have you ever written a poem? lots since i was in the 6th grade. angsty shit lol how long is your hair? it's long. like to my shoulderblades, i think longer. do you like the band n*e*r*d? haven't heard of them. would you prefer cherry cola or vanilla cola? cherry coke. i don't like vanilla coke. what is your favorite cover your favorite band has done? "how?", "whiskey in the jar" what is your favorite farm animal? pigs! do you like pictures that are considered “hipster” and “indie”? yeah. if you could rid the earth of one thing, what would it be? rape. do you prefer germ-x or purell? germ-x roses or daisies; which do you prefer? roses. count to ten in another language. eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn do you like fedoras? i actually do. what's with the hate around them? what band/song reminds you of your childhood? the backstreet boys. have you ever had a cherry martini? no absinthe? no. horchata? no. last time you went to the beach, who’d you go with? colleen and chelsea. favorite flavor for a milkshake? vanilla smoothie? mango. when was the last time someone saw you naked? uhhh. i'm not sure. either my mom did or it's been so long that it was jason. what is the greatest loss you’ve endured? jason where is your favorite place to have sex? i haven't had sex before but i'd assume a bed? what is the “worst” drug you’ve done? are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? uhhh, maybe alcohol? i've never done legitimate drugs. i mean xanax makes doctors p nervous to give out, and i was on that once, but i never abused it. where do you like to be kissed? multiple places? which uncle do you see the most of? uncle rob, mom's younger brother. do you have your family as friends on facebook? yes would you help your best friend hide a body? absolutely not. do you have depression? i do, but it's finally efficiently being treated. what kind of humor suits you more - irony or sarcasm? sarcasm, i think. so long it's not hateful. who is your favorite that 70’s show character? hyde and kelso! but i love eric too. did you enjoy middle school or did it suck? worst three years of my life. have you ever done anything with a guy that you now regret? i regret kissing one, but nothing crazy. if you were to dye your hair, what color would you dye it? i currently want galaxy hair. what is your favorite energy drink, if you have a favorite at all? i don't like like 99% of energy drinks. do you know someone who threatens to kill themselves? all the time. but she does it in a way that is very obviously crying for attention, not support. would you ever completely dye your hair the color green? no. i don't like green in general, but especially as a hair color. do the people in your town speak like rednecks? some do. what kind of pie do you like the best, if you like it at all? i don't like pie. have you ever thought of making love in a dressing room? no, sounds uncomfortable. what is your favorite movie of all time? burton's version of "alice in wonderland" what is your favorite restaurant to go in and eat at? olive garden. are there any lamps on in the room that you’re currently in? a guitar lamp. salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? hmmm. salt & vinegar. have you ever died in one of your dreams? i have. which is tastier: fruity gum or minty gum? fruity do you believe in demonic possession? how about ghosts? angels? i'm iffy with demonic possession. anything boys can do, girls can do better - agree or disagree? your gender doesn't determine how well you do anything. have you ever punched someone and broke their nose? no. has a stray dog ever tried to bite you? no have you ever tried yoga? yeah. lost 40 pounds doing it some years ago. do you like the font century gothic? sure. bulbasaur, charmander, or squirtle? charmander, of course. does it scare you that even after getting a college education that not even that can guarantee you a career? it's fucking horrifying. do you own a lot of graphic tees, solid colored ones, or more so just tops? tops and graphic tees. any specific movie that you wish you could have a love like? [ex: the notebook, allie and noah] the notebook. obviously. but SPOILER, without the dementia END SPOILER. can you remember ever feeling like someone stole your idea or took credit for something that was your work? if not, can you remember a time when you introduced a friend to something and they sort of began acting like they know more about it than you? it's happened multiple times to me. if you were to ever imagine getting married, do you think you have a lot of people that would invite to your showers and actual wedding? or is it more like you’d be inviting long-lost family members and hoping for the best? i'd only invite close friends and family. regarding your current or former high school, what is something that you really felt your school was lacking or what is something you would change about your high school? you couldn't do something as little as even hugging. but besides that, our principal was fucking awful. choose a male friend of yours. will you please describe him in a way that might convince me he’d be a good person to date? he's a totally intelligent nerd and remarkably loyal. very funny. if I handed you a voucher for a free tattoo from a renowned tattoo artist, but it had to be redeemed within 24 hours, would you use it? i'd fucking scream in joy and then do it immediately lol when you are at a place where people are dancing and people are seated/mingling, like a wedding reception, do you dance or do you remain standing/seated? i stay seated. what is your favorite kind of chips? hot cheetos do you own a pair of converses? multiple. have you ever dated a ginger? no. do you watch american horror story? i used to. would you date someone you had a 16 year age difference with? no. what is your sexuality? hetero. do you like lana del rey? not at all. do you think suits are sexy? hell yeah. i am openly a huge sucker for suits. do you have a livejournal? no. have you ever been seduced? by whom? sure, and a past boyfriend. what’s the third letter of your surname? "u" have you ever attempted origami? are you good at it? do you enjoy it? what’s your favorite origami to make? no. do you enjoy classic rock? if so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? classic rock takes up a good portion of my musical library. so let's go through my favorites (i looked up a list so i don't miss any lmao): ac/dc, aerosmith, alice cooper, def leppard, guns n' roses, iron maiden, billy joel, judas priest (i consider them classic metal, but w/e, i'm going according to this list), motley crue, queen, and van halen. this list also lists metallica and ozzy as classic rock, but stfu they're thrash and heavy/classic metal. do you get horny a lot? actually, the longer jason and i have been broken up, i'm less horny. what gives you anxiety? living. lmao. do you think "bad romance" is a catchy song or an annoying one? i honestly think it's catchy, but still very overplayed. could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? i have before. which song did you last listen to on repeat? lol honestly? "i just had sex" by the lonely island + akon because i, out of the total blue, remembered that song from when i was a teenager and started giggling. wanted to relieve the good 'ole times when that song used to crack me and my friend the fuck up. is your mom or dad the older parent? mom. have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? morphine, yes. and it didn't do jackhorseshit for me. does the world make people cruel or do people make the world cruel? now that's a good question! but i think the latter. the world, after all, is just the planet on which we reside. it, alone, can't be cruel. it's people who create standards, rules, society itself, etc. so people make the world cruel. are people more likely to tell you to tone it down or to speak up? speak up. out of fire, earth, water, wind, light and dark, which element appeals the most to you? DARKNESS what’s one thing that you wish was real? i'm taking what the previous person answered: healing potions from games. that would sure be helpful. what was one of your favorite songs as kid? apparently, "dookie" by green day lol. mom always tells me about the time when i was a baby and we were at a putt-putt course, and that song came on and i started screaming "dookie!" and danced. ... i was an odd child. i am grateful i have no recollection of this event lmao. how much do you elaborate in survey answers? i try to elaborate the best i can to make things interesting. are you a private person? usually. what does your sister's hair look like? if you don’t have a sister, how about brother? talking about my two immediate sisters, they both have long, brown, gorgeous hair. nicole just put blondeish highlights in it the other day. i envy how great her hair always looks. ever taken a shower with someone? not since becoming "mature." as kids, nicole and i would shower together sometimes. how many pregnant people do you know? none, i think. do you have a tolerance for snoring or does it drive you insane? it drives me up a fucking wall are you by any means broken? i don't think so anymore. (: broken things can be fixed. never repaired entirely, but, y'know. do you believe in astrology and horoscopes? not at all. are you irish in any way? yep. are you good with confrontations? NO. i start crying. should we consider cheerleading a sport? i mean... i guess? it's physical exertion. do you know anyone with diabetes personally? my mom. other family members. it runs in the family. do you like orange soda? orange cream soda, yes. anything you find creepy that others probably don’t? whale sharks. their mouths are just so fucking huge and i think of them swallowing people despite the fact their esophagus is much too small. have you ever liked anyone whose name started with a "j"? i loved someone whose name started with a "j" who was the last person you kissed? to my dismay, tyler. where did it happen? my back porch have you heard of the band behemoth? yes, but i haven't listened to them. do you even listen to metal in the first place? yes, mainly heavy and thrash metal. i'm also a pretty big symphonic metal fan, but i really need to find more bands... do you have a deviantart? yes. is there anybody famous you’re obsessed with? mark fischbach and link neal please save me from this life of squealing torture what was the last thing you took a break from? "world of warcraft." well, i didn't have much choice, really. my laptop has to be fixed. i haven't played in months. what're you currently hearing? markiplier & tyler playing "undertale." i've seen this playthrough before, but i wanted to watch it again. i'm not big on undertale, but i love how my boys make it so funny. are you afraid of the dark? no. i mean sure, i'd be pretty uneasy if i was in the dark somewhere i didn't know, but i wouldn't necessarily be scared. do you like yourself? i'm getting there! (: do you have any piercings or tattoos? five piercings, four tats. how would you describe your style? if i'm actually dressing for an occasion, i'm like a goth-geek mix. if i'm just running out somewhere, it's sweats and a graphic tee. favorite desserts? ice cream! if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go? the kalahari desert in south africa to photograph meerkats!! favorite horror movies? "blair witch project 2: book of shadows" what are your parents’ names? donna and kenneth/ken dark and dramatic makeup or natural makeup? dark and dramatic, baby. satin or lace? lace is sexy what’s something that fascinates you? space. coral reefs. favorite sea creature? dolphins, whales, seahorses... do you drink alcohol? very rarely. not even once a month. weirdest fetish you’ve ever found out about and how? the fetish of adults with diapers. and deviantart. would see drawings as such in groups and it would really fucking disturb me. speaking of da, they need a fetish filter so fucking badly. if offered irreversible immortality, would you take it? absolutely not. what is your favorite superpower? why? metamorphosis because who wouldn't want that if you were a videogame character, what would your iconic weapon be? bow and arrow your friend tells you that they are suicidal, and asks you not to tell anyone. is it more of a betrayal to tell someone, or to keep silent? fuck it dude, i'm obviously telling someone. that is a serious fucking matter. i don't even consider that betrayal, that's called doing what's necessary to save a life. something that makes you smile? mark fischbach. what’s your opinion on cinnamon rolls? *intense drooling* would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? yeah. have you ever heard of the band ‘the black keys’? i have. mom's a fan, i think. was your hair a different color when you were a baby than it is, now? yes. as a baby, i had dirty blonde hair, but it gradually turned brown. it's currently dyed, though. do you need it to be absolutely DARK in order to sleep? how about quiet? as for dark, no actually. i have a hard time sleeping when it's totally dark, because i don't like being unable to see. but quiet, yes. would it bother you if someone else used your hairbrush? if it was a stranger or i thought their hair was dirty, yes. is it ‘soda’ or 'pop’? soda. have you ever been inside of a cave? no, but i wish! i looooove caves! what’s your comfort food? ice cream. what do you use your cell phone for, besides texting and calling? i have an app on there to track my period, and sometimes i'll use it to go online. what's the creepiest movie ever? there is only one horror movie that even makes me remotely uncomfortable, and that's "the rite." the concept of being pregnant with a demon is fucking horrific. i don't believe anyone ever has been, but just the idea is awful. did you ever do something you promised yourself not to? yeah. what’s the craziest color you've dyed your hair? purple do you like paranormal stuff? YEAH do you have a favorite stuffed toy? a stuffed meerkat named rebel that my ex gave me. would you rather be hurt physically or emotionally? physically. do you over-analyze things? literally everything. what's your favorite food? jalapeno pizza tops the list. but i also love well-made hot wings and strawberries. kiwi, too. what's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in real life? MOUNTAINS what's the best advice you’ve ever been given? "deal with the past, or the past deals with you," probably. does vintage stuff appeal to you? yeah! do you believe that leaving a significant other for someone else is ever a good idea? of course i don't. staying in a relationship you no longer want is foolish and only hurts you both way more than leaving. do you want to be taller or shorter? i don't really care. i'm content with my height. are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? no. his are brown. what do you want right this second? i want hot fries lol are you one of those people who never drinks soda? i feel like soda is such a loathed thing on the internet. but no. i drink soda. is your vision good? no. i have to wear glasses, and when i don't wear them, i can barely make out the second row on those vision test things with the big "e" have you ever slow danced with anyone? yes. have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act? my sister's friend pretty intensely made out with her then-boy toy on our couch once while i was present. do you think it’s attractive for a man to wear eyeliner? that shit makes me weak at the knees lmao have you ever been to the grand canyon? no, but i wish! when's garbage day in your area? we have to take our trash on our own to the dump here. do you know anyone who hates or dislikes chocolate? my grandmother do you know anyone who's racist? yes. do you have more girl friends or guy friends? girls. have you ever hated yourself? yes. did your parents ever ground you? yeah. do you own an mp3 player of some kind? i still have an old fucking ipod nano lmao. that thing's been going for a looooong fucking time. are you or were you popular in high school? definitely not. i was a loner. what're three of your favorite TV shows? "fullmetal alchemist," "that '70s show," "supernatural" do you like things vampire related? sure, vampires are cool. i never really liked the romanticized stories, though. are your nails currently long? no. they never are. have you ever been to las vegas? no. it's on the complete opposite end of the country. if you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? i'd be one of those people that inside is FREAKING THE FUCK OUT but would try sooo hard to stay chill. did/do you listen to britney spears songs? as a kid i did. in the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? i've never been in a taxi what shorthand do you use the most? lol, omg, lmao are there any framed pictures in the room you’re in? yes. an exclusive promotional "silent hill: revelation" poster in japanese that i won in a giveaway. what show did you last watch? "that '70s show," at least part of it. do you still make christmas lists? yes, because mom asks me to.

#survey #quiz #questions #asks #answered

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snappedsky · 7 years

Text

Fanatics 56

A serial killer is terrorizing the city and he means trouble for all outspoken young women. Previous! Next!

Drey

“Another body was found this morning, naked and mutilated in an alley on Darkened Street in the South End. She was a woman with black hair and brown eyes, estimated age about 24. Just like others, she was without any form of identification. If anyone may know the identity of this or the other girls, police ask that you please step forward.”

Nana switches off the radio, catching the attention of all the waitresses in Café Latte. “Alright, girls. Huddle up.”

The girls gather around their manager. Devi folds her arms impatiently, wanting to go home already.

“Due to all the recent murders of young women, I don’t want any of you going home by yourselves,” Nana explains, “Payton, Piper, I know you two drive so that’s fine. But everyone else who walk or take the bus, I would rather you leave work with someone. I can drive you home if needed.”

“My girlfriend always picks me up anyway,” Jade says.

“Yeah, I can call my boyfriend,” Samantha says, “he’ll get me.”

“I’ll call my mom,” Tamika says.

“Good,” Nana nods approvingly, “Devi, what about you? I know you have to take the bus.”

“Yeah. Um, I’m not sure,” she muses.

“I can drive you,” she suggests.

“But your place is really out of the way from my place,” Devi points out, “I don’t want to inconvenience you like that.”

“You should call Johnny,” Jade suggests.

“What?” Devi snorts.

“Yeah, Johnny will drive you home,” Samantha nods.

“What makes you think that?” she scoffs.

“I know you two fight a lot,” she says, “but he can be really nice sometimes.”

“He’s very polite,” Piper adds.

“And he tips really well,” Tamika nods.

“Alright, alright,” Devi snaps as she grabs her cellphone. “I’m calling him. Just stop singing his praises.”

She dials Johnny’s phone number and sighs with annoyance as she waits for him to answer.

“Hello?” he grumbles.

“Johnny, listen I need a favour,” she says, “I need you to pick me up from work.”

“Huh?” he grunts with obvious annoyance. “Why?”

“Nana doesn’t want us leaving work alone with all the murders recently,” she replies, “can you do it or not?” He doesn’t even try to mask his sigh of irritation which really pisses Devi off. “Fine.”

“Great. I’ll be waiting,” she snaps before hanging up. She glares at her coworkers. “Happy now?”

They all smile and giggle cheerfully with just a hint of malice.

After the café closes, everyone changes into their street clothes and leaves one by one. Devi is the third to leave, just before Nana and Payton, when Johnny’s car pulls up by the curb.

“Hey,” she grunts as she climbs into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” he grumbles.

“Thanks for this,” she mutters, “I’m probably gonna need rides home every night for a while. I know it’s kind of a pain.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “so why won’t your boss let you leave?” “Because of all the recent murders of young women,” she replies, “it’s been all over the news for weeks.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods with realization then glances at her suspiciously. “It’s not me.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You were thinking it.” Devi glares out the window with disgust. “All those girls were found raped. You may be a dick, but I know even you wouldn’t rape someone.” “They call him…what was it? Drey?” Johnny questions, “how do they know that’s his name?”

“He writes it in blood at the scene of the murder,” Devi replies.

Johnny scoffs. “That just proves he’s in it for the publicity. He wants people talking about him.”

She snorts. “I’m not gonna psychoanalyze this douche. He’ll get caught eventually and it won’t be long before everyone forgets about him.”

They arrive at Devi’s apartment building. She looks back into the car as she gets out.

“So you’ll pick me up tomorrow too right?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny nods, “I’ll be there.”

She nods appreciatively before closing the door and walking up to her building. Johnny watches her until she’s inside before driving away.

The next day Devi takes the bus to work like usual. She really wishes she could afford a car.

Work starts out slow and quiet. Not many customers come since most of their regulars are at school or working. But sometime around eleven, a young man with thin brown hair that hangs over his face comes in. Samantha greets him cheerfully. He eyes her up and down before grinning and sitting at a small table. The other waitresses watch him from inside the kitchen.

“Devi, your turn,” Tamika says.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna help that creep,” Devi growls, “look at the way he’s leering at Samantha.”

“He’s still a customer,” Nana scolds, “so treat him like one.”

She scoffs with disgust as she tightens her pigtails. “I hate the service industry.” She puts on her biggest smile and approaches him. “Morning, sir,” she chirps in her nicest voice as she hands him a menu. “Can I start you off with a drink?” “Coffee,” he replies with a grainy voice. “Lots of sugar.”

“Sure,” Devi nods as she writes it on her notepad. “I’ll be back.”

She can feel the creep eyeing her as she walks away. It makes her skin crawl.

She returns after a few minutes with a cup of coffee and lots of sugar packets. She rests them on the customer’s table and smiles at him. “Have you decided what you would like to eat?”

He rubs his chin as he reads the menu. “I was thinking maybe…” He looks at her and grins. “You?”

Devi feels like she might throw up or punch him in the face. But she resists the urge and maintains her smile. “I’m not on the menu.”

“You could be,” he purrs, “what are you doing tonight?”

Her fingers twitch as she fights the urge to wrap them around his throat. “Definitely not you.” His smile drops record quick. “What? You think you’re better than me?”

“Of course not,” she replies cheerfully, “I just have standards.”

He glares at her with blatant anger. She meets his glare, still smiling. He stands up and leaves in a huff. Devi drops her smile and looks at the table with disgust. “He didn’t pay for his coffee.”

“Ew, that guy was so gross,” Samantha squeals, “I can’t believe you were able to handle your cool so well, Devi.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Devi grumbles as she walks back to the kitchen. “Sorry, Nana.”

“No need for apologies,” Nana says, “that guy was a creep.” The girls laugh agreeably. They soon forgot about the creep and continue their work day. It’s not like that was the first pervert they’ve dealt with. It’s just another normal day.

At the end of the day, they lock up the café and leave one at a time until only Nana and Devi are left.

“You have a ride tonight, right?” Nana asks.

“Yeah, Johnny said he’ll come,” Devi replies.

“Okay then I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as she leaves out the backdoor. Devi waves at her and looks around. With all the lights turned off it’s really dark, the streetlamps outside the only illumination she has. She watches the front street through the opening in the wall between the kitchen and dining area, waiting quietly for Johnny. The idiot probably forgot. If he doesn’t show up in a few minutes, she’ll call him and chew him out.

It’s only a couple minutes later when she hears the back door open. Devi thinks its Nana and turns to meet her.

“What, did you forget something…” she trails off when she sees it’s not Nana. In the darkness she can’t quite see who it is, but it’s definitely not any of the girls.

“Who the hell are you?” she snarls.

“Did you forget me already?” he says in a familiar, grainy voice. “You really are full of yourself.”

Devi blinks with surprise. “Are you…that creep from this morning? How’d you get in here?”

“It’s easy to pick locks,” he shrugs, “although I was waiting for you to leave but when you didn’t, I thought I’d meet you in here. Aren’t I a gentleman?”

Devi growls and starts to grab her cellphone from her pocket. But she stops when he steps into the light and she notices he’s holding a large steak knife. The blade and handle are stained.

He twists the blade around, smiling. “If you apologize, I might be nice with you.”

Devi snarls and stays still. She waits until he’s a bit closer before striking. She grabs the hand holding the knife and swings her elbow towards his face. He’s not even surprised. He catches her arm and shoves her back into the wall. She’s winded from the impact and before she can recover, he’s on top of her, squeezing her neck and holding his knife inches from her face.

“Nice try,” he smirks, “you think you’re the first girl to fight back? You all like to think you stand a chance but you don’t. Because you’re weak.”

First girl? Devi looks at him with confusion before the realization hits her. “You…are you Drey?”

“You know me?” he purrs, “good. I love when they know me.”

“Yeah, I know you,” she spits, “you’re the fucking pervert who’s been killing and raping girls! Did you come in here this morning to find your next victim?”

“It’s not like I go around looking for girls to kill,” he snaps, “if you all weren’t such arrogant bitches, then I wouldn’t have to kill you!”

“That’s why you do it?” she scoffs, “because we reject you? You petty, whiny fuck! If you weren’t such a disgusting creep, then you wouldn’t have to rape girls!”

“Shut up!” he barks and squeezes her neck tighter. “I’m not the problem. Besides, you think I wanna give this up? Everyone is talking about me. People are scared to go outside at night. I’m famous.”

“You’re…nothing…special,” Devi croaks as she struggles to breathe. “You’re just…a lonely baby wanting some attention. There are thousands of people like you. You’ll be caught or die someday. And then people will…forget all about you.”

“Never!” he shouts, “people will never forget about me. Even when I do die, I’ll still be remembered. Because I’m gonna break a record. People will fear me for years. I’ll be immortal.”

“And you’re gonna help me,” he smirks and pulls his knife back. Devi squeezes her eyes and braces herself for pain. Then she hears the back door slam. Drey and Devi look back as Johnny walks in. Devi smiles with relief.

“Who the hell-?” Drey starts to ask but before he can finish, Johnny is beside him. He grabs the arm holding Devi and bends it backwards, snapping the bone.

Drey screams in pain as he collapses to his knees, holding his broken arm. Devi falls to the floor too, coughing and gasping as she rubs her neck.

“How did you…know?” she asks.

“I heard him yelling,” Johnny replies as he kneels beside her. He gently moves her hand out of the way to get a look at her neck. There’s a dark purple bruise along the front of her neck.

Johnny snarls furiously and looks at Drey. He’s writhing on the floor, clutching his busted arm. Johnny grabs the knife and approaches him.

“Johnny, wait,” Devi demands as she grabs his arm and pulls him back. “Let the police handle it.”

“What?” he snaps, “but-.”

“You’ve already paid him back for hurting me,” she says, “if he’s arrested, the public will know and they won’t be scared of him anymore. If you take him, nobody will know what happened. He deserves to be forgotten as soon as possible.”

Johnny looks at her with surprise then glares at Drey. He’s looking at him with fear.

Johnny scoffs and drops the knife. “Fine. But I’m not sticking around to be questioned.”

Devi nods and grabs her cellphone. Johnny walks towards the front as she dials. Before she finishes, he stops and rubs the back of his head.

“I’m…sorry I was late,” he mutters, his back still turned to her.

She looks at him with surprise then shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. At least you still showed up.”

Johnny goes up front. Devi watches Drey closely as she calls the cops. He’s whimpering like a whipped dog. She scoffs with disgust.

A few minutes later, she joins Johnny up front. He looks at her expectantly.

“The cops are on their way,” she says, “I don’t think they believe me so they’re gonna be surprised.”

“He’s not gonna try to escape?” Johnny asks.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Devi replies, “he’s pretty hurt, the big baby.”

He looks away awkwardly. “How’s your neck?”

“It’s not bad,” she replies as she rubs her bruise.

He angrily grips his shirt. “You should let me kill him. He deserves the most painful death for hurting you.”

Devi blinks with surprise then smiles. “Yeah, well…at least this way we’re, you know, the better citizens.”

“Overrated,” he scoffs.

Johnny leaves before the cops arrive. They are incredibly surprised when they see a man with a broken arm crying in the kitchen of Café Latte. Devi insists that he’s the serial killer. Drey doesn’t answer any of their questions but they still arrest him. When they ask her who broke his arm, she lies and says she did. They accept it.

When it’s all over, one of the officer’s offers to drive Devi home but she refuses. Says she’s okay and would rather be alone. They drive off, leaving her at the restaurant, before she starts to walk down the street.

She spots Johnny’s car a few blocks away. He’s leaning against it, staring at the sky. He looks over when he sees her coming. She smirks slyly at him. He just rolls his eyes and gets in the driver’s side. She snickers and climbs into the passenger side.

She rests her head against the window, exhaustion finally hitting her, and closes her eyes. She rubs her tender neck. What a long day. She still can’t believe she was attacked by that douchebag.

Good thing Nny showed up.

She cracks her eyes open and looks over at Johnny. He’s got his usual scowl as he drives down the road. She smiles warmly. He catches her staring and she quickly looks away.

“What?” he scoffs.

“Nothing,” she snaps and closes her eyes again. She can’t just let this dick think she’s lucky to have him or something.

#Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac fanfiction #JtHM #JtHM fanfiction #IZ JtHM crossover #my art #my ocs

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