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fnniganthomas · 4 years

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❝ in my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words. but when I open my mouth, everything collapses. ❞

{ cis man, he/him } ❝ icarus is forever deemed the boy who flew too close to the sun and got burned. to me, he is just a boy too enthralled by beauty to care whether or not it could hurt him. ❞ huh, who’s TAYLOR ZAKHAR PEREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually LEANDER FINNIGAN-THOMAS. he is a 23 year old HALF-BLOOD wizard who is a TATTOO ARTIST. he is known for being RETICENT, SELF-CONSCIOUS, STUBBORN, INARTICULATE, and PERSUADABLE but also TRUSTING, SYMPATHETIC, EARNEST, PERCEPTIVE, and QUICK-THINKING, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song EPITAPH BY HIPPO CAMPUS and THE SMELL OF HOMEMADE BROWNIES BAKING; TECHNICOLOR PAINT STAINS ON EVERYTHING YOU OWN; A SKY GONE GREEN WITH PROMISED RAIN; WORN FLANNELS YOU’RE HAPPY TO LET OTHERS BORROW; A LUMP IN YOUR THROAT FROM THE WORDS YOU SWALLOW. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { zoe, 22, cst, she/her } [ leander is adopted. ]

ADDITIONAL MATERIALS: leander’s playlist, stats page, & pinterest board CHARACTER PARALLELS: jason mendoza (the good place), chidi anagonye (the good place), ty lee (atla), finn (star wars), troy barnes (community), brittany pierce (glee), ponyboy curtis (the outsiders), aang (atla)

one.

there was no real doubt in anyone’s mind that leander was his fathers’ son. even the two of them had no trouble seeing bits of the other in him.

dean could be heard calling leander seamus’ son when he ran into the side table holding lit candles and set several wooden picture frames ablaze. seamus returned the favor and referred to leander as dean’s son when he walked into leander’s room and saw he’d upended several jars of paint on the floor. to this day, none of them could really say if he’d upended the jars on purpose or not.

leander liked to think it was on purpose, even as he proclaimed his innocence every time the family told the story over laughter-filled dinners. proclaiming his innocence was just part of the way that story got told and he couldn’t go breaking tradition. really, he liked the way the rainbow of colors was still burrowed into the grooves of the wood and the slats between floorboards, even after countless attempts at cleaning the last of it. a part of him wondered if that hadn’t been an early sign of magic; he knew that that paint washed easily out of his hair and off his closes, but it stuck stubbornly to the floor right where he liked it.

the colors on the floor nearly matched the technicolor quilt that lay on top of his bed year-round. he liked when things matched like that, almost by accident; like the world liked when things looked pretty as much as he did. he kinda hoped that was one of his first bits of magic; it felt fitting. he said as much to his gran once and had his hair ruffled for his trouble.

two.

when he was a child, he was always elbow deep in some messy thing. it wasn’t that he had a knack for causing trouble — he just had such a hard time saying no to trouble when it came calling. he had a hard time saying no to anything that came calling.

that was probably why trouble was always calling him. it knew he was an easy mark.

he made friends easily as a child, when things were easier and no one seemed to mind or care that he had such a hard time finding the words for things. leander was too polite to voice the blame out loud, but he was convinced that his friends growing up were at least half behind all the messes he got into.

the other kids around him might’ve been better at causing messes, but leander made up for it by being a mess. he was always having a crisis as a kid — his stuffed dragons were just ravaging the block city, dad, but what about the finger puppet people formerly houses in that block tower? do they even sell dinosaur insurance?? why didn’t I think of the implications here …

he and his sister played knights a lot, with toy swords and helmets modeled after the suits of armor in hogwarts (dean asked seamus if that wasn’t a little much, when they bought them; they were a few years out from school, after all, they didn’t care that the helmets were accurate — ) and leander always wondered about the ramifications of two knights fighting each other. shouldn’t they be friends, he thought? she always took his ensuing rambling full of hypothetical knight-schisms as opportunity to knock him flat backwards.

he was a needy kid — he always had questions at his lips, a thousand things he wanted to say. it took him forever to find the way to say them, though; leander hated feeling any negative thing, but he was used to frustration turned inward. it was his least favorite feeling, and one he was all too accustomed to. even now, leander was never quite sure what to do with his words. his mind was an easy enough place for him to navigate, and he loved being there for others when they needed someone to listen.

but whenever he tried talking himself wires got crossed and nothing came out how he wanted it to.

three.

he’d always been more quiet than he’d have liked to be, because he did actually have a lot to say. by the time he was nearly hogwarts-aged, he’d mostly forced himself to get over his hang-ups around his family. they poked good-natured fun at him, but he knew they’d always give him as much time as he needed to phrase a sentence or find a word. he could be assured that some of the other kids he’d grown up around would know that he just took a while to say what he really meant, too.

it was the thought of the castle, so full of strangers and professors he didn’t know, that scared him. getting sorted into ravenclaw scared him even more. he knew he didn’t always sound smart, and it worried him that others would listen to him and decide that he wasn’t, actually, smart enough to be a ravenclaw. he knew that he was smart, that he had things of value to offer to conversations. he was just so bad at getting them out the way he wanted to.

he stayed quiet for a while, even knowing he didn’t actually want to be quiet.

whenever he tried to articulate that point to other people though, it tended not to go as well as it did in his head — only proving his point. one of the prefects his first year rolled her eyes, said, ‘if you want to be less quiet, just say more, leander.’ but it wasn’t that easy, for him. he had a lot to say but had trouble finding the words for all those things. he could usually carry polite conversation just fine; fool people into thinking he knew what he was doing. but anything more than that required his total focus, and still was rarely quite right.

he bit down on half-formed questions because he thought it was better to not know some things if it meant he didn’t have to see people grow annoyed at his fumbling words. then that made him feel even more like he was some sort of fraud-ravenclaw — what ravenclaw thought they were better off not knowing things?

just like he forced himself to get over his worries to talk to his family and old friends, he forced himself to accept that words were never going to be his specialty. then he forced himself to be fine with that. he worked hard to focus on the things he was good at, that didn’t require him to talk too much — he always felt at home in the air on his broom, or with a sketchbook in his lap, or in the kitchen whipping up something that’d make other people happy. those things weren’t nothing.

four.

leander was smart, actually; he excelled in herbology and charms and worked hard enough everywhere else to not be singled out during class. he never caused as many explosions as his dad did from simple transfiguration. and he was great with people, for all that he got so in his head sometimes that he felt clumsy with even his dearest friends. but being smart never stopped anyone from being a fool.

when leander looked back on his childhood, it was as if all of his roiling anxieties melted away. it was like looking in on a world encased in the sun — he imagined his memories as some sort of weird, reverse snow globe, where everything shimmered at the edges and only got brighter as you shook it up.

hindsight made even mundane or negative memories seem golden, to leander. his biggest fault was that he always liked to think things were kinder than they actually were.

leander trusted people to be better than they were and was bad at saying what he meant, which was, at times an awful combination for him. he trusted the world to treat him better than it did.

if someone ever tries to convince him that, no, really, that harsh person from a historically bigoted family is not a good person, his stubbornness really came out and saw leander dig his feet in. he never wanted to believe that people had to be truly black or white — he was stubbornly convinced that there was good in every person, even when he was told he shouldn’t try so hard to look for it.

leander knew what was it like to feel you stood on the fringes of everybody else’s lives; no amount of forcing himself to be comfortable with the way he was ever took that anxiety away. he tried his hardest to be accommodating and friendly and understanding to everyone he came into contact with, even the people who maybe didn’t deserve his kindness. especially them, sometimes. he didn’t want anyone feeling like he was someone to be wary around. leander was steadfast in his beliefs and knew he wouldn’t change them, but all the same — that shouldn’t be a reason for someone to look at him and expect anything less than he gave everyone else.

four.

home never stopped being the most comforting place for leander. not even once he was older, a little more settled, and no longer had such stress over belonging in ravenclaw tower. not even once he had plenty of friends, a spot on the quidditch roster, a place in the castle. he adored not feeling so lost at school the older he got, but it couldn’t compete with home.

the golden gleam of his memories made everything feel well-worn and well-loved in his head, but home was the biggest victim, and the most deserving of such treatment. leander was stubbornly adamant that there was no better place in the world than the finnigan-thomas’ home in kenmare. holidays at home with his family, extended and sprawling and filled with family friends as much as blood relatives, were leander’s favorite thing.

he loved his dads so much — even as he couldn’t help but wonder, privately, if they wouldn’t have preferred a son who wasn’t such a fuck up sometimes. he’d certainly caused several dinner parties to grind to a halt with a poorly-phrased question directed at the aunt he forgot he wasn’t supposed to sit next to, after the incident over christmas dinner when he was ten.

leander wondered if his dads wouldn’t want a son who was better at words, because leander always thought there were ways for him to be better. he wondered, privately, because he couldn’t help but worry. but the logical part of his brain knew that there wasn’t a need to worry over them. they loved him, he knew, and didn’t even need his memory to gloss everything over for that to be true.

five.

there was always a level of creativity in the house growing up, and leander took to it like a fish to water. he never really let up on his fascination with color and the physicality of paint clinging to his skin and the paintbrush and whatever canvas was in front of him. the permanently-painted floorboards in his room weren’t the only casualty in the house, but that was alright. no one ever gave leander too much grief over tracking paint everywhere.

it was easier for him to take a pencil to page than to find the words, sometimes, and he was so happy his family understood that about him, and let it grow.

leander couldn’t keep track of how many drawings his dads pinned up to the fridge when he was a kid, or how excited dean had been to lead leander around museums growing up. he cherished every minute seamus spent nodding along as leander rambled about some era in art history seamus knew nothing about. it didn’t matter that leander grew into being comfortable at hogwarts, and around strangers, and people who weren’t so understanding with his fumbled words; it was work, with all of them, even as the work got easier on him.

nothing about being near his family and feeling that love felt like work.

leander, even grown out a childhood-self that worried over the ethics of stuffed dragons knocking over block towers, couldn’t help but be dragged down the whirlpool of hypothetical thoughts. he wondered if there was some alternate-universe leander who wasn’t as lucky as he was, who didn’t have his dads and his sister and his friends. maybe there was a leander who had those things but still lived in a world that was altogether harsher than his was. he thanked the universe as often as he remembered to that he was who he was, and that he was where he was.

leander was bowled over by stress and anxiety and worries more often than he existed in a state of honest chill, but he was still so happy to have the life he did. he didn’t always feel like he deserved it, but he was glad it was his.

six.

when leander was sixteen, he dicked around enough on the internet to teach himself how to give magical tattoos and muggle tattoos both. he really thought that it shouldn’t have been so easy to order all the necessary equipment and have it delivered to his house; he really, really thought that the owl that came bearing his enchanted ink should’ve asked for, like, ID or something. it felt like getting away with something, how easy it was.

leander was well-versed in courting trouble at this point and knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. he just thought it was important to note that he worried at it being so easy for people without training to get all that stuff.

he practiced on himself and his sister, with a little needling and an iron-clad pinkie swear that they’d keep the tattoos a secret from their dads. in hindsight, it was a very stupid decision on leander’s part to start practicing in the summer, when they went to the beach often enough that the two finnigan-thomas kids had to order some fancy witch-owned brand of waterproof concealer to cover the evidence. their dads didn’t notice the tattoos until they came home that winter break and forgot to start hiding them again, though, so leander would take the win.

he offered tattoos to people at school, and really hoped that some of them also forgot to hide them when they went home for winter hols. it felt only fitting that his not-thought-out plan brought some other people a bit of trouble. he’d call it payback for all that time in their childhoods when he’d been the one getting dragged into problems, but the thought of payback as a concept made leander a little sad, so, whatever.

seven.

it felt only fitting that he looked into doing tattoos as a professional once he was out of hogwarts. dean certainly insinuated, when leander mused over the option, that it would make the shock he’d given his dads over the tattoos worth it. leander kind of agreed; he didn’t think the tattoos weren’t worth it, already, but there could be layers to worth. on principle, he loved the idea of practice. he liked to think that everything in life was practice for something to come — that nothing happened to you that couldn’t have a use later down the line.

it had a nice symmetry to it, a circular-ness. it was the sort of lofty thought he’d have an absolute monster of a time voicing out loud, but he felt it, and sometimes that was enough for leander. it was like the paint worn into his floorboards that matched the quilt on his bed; unintentional but fitting anyway.

leander wondered if maybe he shouldn’t look into going to muggle university to study art, or at least take an apprenticeship under a wizarding artist so he could learn how to paint portraits and landscapes that could move and all. there was still a career in that, people looking to have themselves or their relatives or their homes immortalized in oils even as moving photographs were so much easier these days.

he was — definitely, he was interested in learning that sort of thing. it just felt like too big a goal to have for his life right after school was over. he hadn’t been suspended in a state of constant stress during his time at hogwarts, or anything, but h still felt a strong sort of relief when it was over.

there were things he’d miss; how easy it was, having so many of his friends all living in the same place, all doing the same things and living such parallel lives. he’d miss quidditch practice now that he knew he’d never make it as a professional — and never want to, besides. he’d miss the community of it all, even as he recalled how hard it had been for him to settle into it. he knew that it would only take a year or two, maybe less than that, for him to start romanticizing his time there like nothing had ever hurt in the castle’s walls.

but the sigh of relief, that was bigger than anything he missed, and it made him sure he wanted to take a step back from school and any formal training or education. he already knew enough about tattooing now that he felt assured it wouldn’t feel so much like starting over to make a job of it.

eight.

leander was always far better at thinking on his feet than most people would guess from knowing him. it sometimes surprised leander himself, even — he knew he had a propensity towards worry, and it seemed like maybe he shouldn’t actually be good in an emergency. maybe it was just that he had an overactive fight or flight instinct that he’d long trained over the years to fight through whatever it could. he might not be the person people in his life wanted around when they were going through a crisis, but he knew how to handle himself in all manner of unexpected situations. leander liked to think he rarely made things worse.

does he make good choices whilst thinking on his feet? not all the time. but then, who could be relied on to make the perfect decision during every high stress situation they found themselves tossed into? leander made choices, and knew better than to stand idle; leander was of the belief that second guessing things had no value, even as he couldn’t help himself sometimes. he tried his best to face every consequence of every action head on.

he dug his feet in over stupid, foolish decisions often enough. it was fitting that sometimes when he dug his feet in, it was for a purpose. the best way out is through, and all that — maybe he’d get that adage tattooed on him someday, too.

sometimes it still felt like things happened to him, like he was a less active participant in his life than others were in theirs. he’d always pick fight over flight but not every situation asked that choice of him. it was less because he had a genuine go-with-the-flow personality, and more that he had such a hard time saying no.

nine.

when the world around him started turning itself upside down with awfulness and inside out with tragedy, leander knew it wouldn’t do him any good to freeze now. he joined up with the order because he knew there really wasn’t any other option he could take and still look at himself in the mirror. he wasn’t an auror or a healer or anyone that he thought had, like, much of value to offer the cause. but he was asked, and he said yes, because leander always, always said yes when trouble came calling for him. it was instinctive at this point.

leander liked to think he didn’t hate a lot of things. his heart was too open, to full of potential love, for him to like feeling anything harsher than annoyance, frustration. he forced bursts of hurt to come and go in a count of ten, because dwelling on the negative made him feel hollowed out.

but he stopped laying in bed at night so often, thanking his lucky stars that he was leander in this world over any others; he started, instead, wondering if any generation in this world of theirs would get to be untouched by even the threat of war. he wondered if it was too naive to wish this darkness would fade as quickly as it did when his dads were kids.

he turned things over in his memory now that some of the worst had come to pass; normally he let everything be painted in shades of gold, but he wondered if that wasn’t part of the problem. maybe too many people had worked too hard to push prison breaks and strange disappearances to the side — maybe too many people had had wanted to remember things only as happy and bright. it was such an ingrained part of himself now that leander knew he’d never be able to stop thinking things were better than they were.

maybe it would be the end of him one day. but at least he’d be himself, at the end.

#potterintro #( ⊱ ━━ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 ┊ intro. )#yes all his character parallels are directly from charactour #or that statistical character quiz #yes the sheer range of his results killed me #yes brittany was his number one match YES i'm still not over how funny that is

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binxyu · 4 years

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Desire. The word of many meanings. Lust? Money? People desire what they can not have. You? You desired power. The power to hurt those who had wronged you. San? He desired to have you and if offering you your desire would get him that then he was going to give it.

>>Pairing: Choi San (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | demon!san x power hungry!reader

>>Word Count: 3.6k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Demonic themes, yandere themes, bondage, branding, biting, blood play, choking, cockwarming, corruption, creampie, degrading, fingering, marking, murder (graphic), oral (receiving), overstimulation, size kink, slapping, and spitting/saliva

“Do it”.

The voice rang in your head as it always did. It was similar to a little devil on your shoulder. Someone telling you to do the worst you could do.

“Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to”.

You closed your eyes, the gun shaking in your grip. You had nothing against this person but the voice in your head knew how much you enjoyed the thrill.

The thrill of pulling the trigger.

The thrill of having the power to do so and end someone else’s life.

“We had a deal, baby. Each kill I help you with in your favor will result in one kill for me. Kill him”.

Your finger felt controlled, a silent pull to just come forward a little. Just enough to send a bullet into the man’s chest.

He looked at you with such pleading eyes, coated in the finest ocean blue that could have any other woman in his hands.

Not you.

You were in love with the voice in your head.

A voice you couldn’t explain. A voice that offered you power in exchange for completing their dirty work.

Finally, you let yourself fall to the desire and pulled the trigger, a bullet flying into the man’s heart.

“Good girl”.

It was a raspy voice, one full of authority and mischief. You knew the voice better than you knew your own family’s.

A wave of relief overcame you when the voice went quiet. You looked at the man in front of you and wondered what he could have done to have been so worthy of death.

The gun was placed back into your pocket once the safety was on and you simply walked out of the place. You couldn’t dwell on what you had done. It was all worth it in the end.

Miraculously, the deal between yourself and the voice was true and, as you killed upon their request, you gained more power. More reputation and strength.

There was odd downsides to this deal, however. Like the dreams that occurred every night.

Dreams about the same man that left you wanting so much more when you woke up.

“Oh, it’s you again”, your voice seemed to echo in your own bedroom as you looked at the familiar... creature.

“Who else would be here?”, there it was. The same voice that appeared in your head throughout the day.

You felt witless. He was right. No other thing or person visited the realm of your dreams as often as he did.

“You did well today”, was all he muttered when you remained silent. All you could do was stare at him as he walked closer.

His wings were a masterpiece on their own, a marvelous display of black. It was a beautiful way of showing he was rather symbolic of darkness.

His eyes glowed a blood red as they looked into your’s, his pupils blown out due to his hunger. You winced as his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to examine you as if he was deciding if you were worthy of another night with him.

“You still won’t tell me what or who you are”, the creature chuckled, a sound so unfitting for him.

“You’ll find out soon”, and he was gone.

Another unspoken rule of the deal between you and the creature was isolation. You were not permitted to speak to others.

That much was clear when one of your co-workers was found drained of blood, a horrific sight to anyone but you. You had seen it before and that’s when you realized you were literally in a deal with a devil.

So, you avoided others in hopes that the little devil on your shoulder would keep quiet. No one would get hurt that way.

You were wrong. Horribly wrong.

You hadn’t realized but people slowly disappeared when they were around you. Just because the little devil wanted you all to himself.

“Y/n, come here. I need your help”, your boss ordered you and you felt an itch within you. An itch and desire for that control you were used to.

Reluctantly, you walked over and picked up the heavy box.

What is this guy moving? Rocks?

“Where to?”, your soft voice asked politely, sucking up to the man that could potentially give you more wealth than you could imagine.

“My office obviously”, his tone was cold as it always was and you nibbled your bottom lip in annoyance. You turned around, about to make your way out of the meeting room and to his office when you heard his screams.

Your head whirled around to see him on the floor, his finger pointing in sheer horror at something across the room. The door slammed behind you and your eyes finally found what he was screaming about.

“Hello baby”, there he was in all his unholy glory. The same man inside your head and your dreams.

“I figured I’d take care of your little problem here”, you shook your head, either from shock, fear, or denial. You couldn’t tell which.

“N-no you don’t have to”, the creature laughed at that and with a wave of his hand, the boss’s throat was slit. He quickly bled out and his body fell in a heap on the floor.

“I didn’t ask”, his smile was insincere, a warning to watch your mouth. You noticed it and shut up, noticing how his wings were not as perfect as they had been previously in your dreams.

The bone seeming to hold them together to his back was unnaturally bent, looking horrendous and painful. The feathers surrounding those areas were anything but perfect. Yet, he seemed effortlessly attractive.

“What do you want?”, your voice came out small and weak, a contrast to the usual powerful voice that came from your body. It was obvious the creature could take away your power just as he had given it to you.

“Surely you remember why I’m even here to begin with, little one”, the nickname shocked you as the memory resurfaced once again.

The shovel was cold in your grip, causing a bone chilling spark to run down your spine as you covered up the box. It was the standard recipe.

The bones of a dead black cat, a photograph of yourself, and graveyard dirt. All compacted in the small box now buried deep in the center of the crossroads.

You were younger at the time by a few years, a little more gullible. A little more desperate.

As the blood moon rose, you could feel the presence of someone else in the area. Well, more like something else.

The red light shun on him gracefully as he sat on the hood of your car, not caring how dinted it could become. Your eyes trailed down his body, engulfing any feature you could take in to remember him by.

At the time, his hair was a light brown and his eyes were not that blood red you had grown used to. They were a warm brown. They were so welcoming.

“Are you the devil?”, you wanted to keep your distance from him, but it felt like an invisible string was pulling you right to him. Your body soon stood in front of his own, barely away from being considered between his legs.

“No, little one. Just something awfully close. Now, what are you selling your soul for?”, the demon expected many things. Things he had heard so many times before. Money, love, saving, etc.

What he didn’t expect you to say was that you needed a way to get revenge on the murderer of your mother.

“What? You don’t strike me as the revenge type”, his infamous chuckle came after the words and you huffed. You hated being considered too weak or kind. People already played around with you for that reason.

“Are you going to help me or not?”, your hand found solace on your hip as you waited for his response. He hummed as if in deep thought before tilting his head in a teasing manner.

“Depends. What do I get in return?”, you noticed how his gaze had lingered on your hand, watching how it softly kneaded the flesh there.

“Keep our options open? You can have my soul or whatever you want whenever you want. I just want that man in the ground by the end of the week”, he didn’t expect the hint of sass in your tone but he loved it.

“I’ll need to put that in writing darling, but you have a deal”.

“Why did I not remember you before?”, you were sure you had never had that memory before now. The demon only smirked before walking towards you, his hands holding your waist. He rubbed them up and down as if he was memorizing every curve.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, it was so precious to watch you think you had killed that man. You seemed so... proud”, he bit his lip, admiring you.

“It’s been you, hasn’t it? The voice?”, the demon nodded and took your jaw in his hold, tilting it every which way as if he was deciding to auction you or not.

“Yes. Your power comes from me and I think I’ve finally decided what I’ll be requesting for your end of the deal”, a thick lump formed in your throat, hoping that this wasn’t going to be your last day on Earth.

“You have been doing my dirty work for years now. No one is more fit to be my prophet than you. I want you to be mine. My little prophet”, your eyebrows furrowed as his words processed in your head.

“Prophet? For what?”, you had to sit down, walking over the body on the floor still and sitting on the desk.

“To be the next crossroad demon. Imagine it, baby. All the power you have now will be tripled, you’ll be immortal, and we’ll be together forever. I can tell you desire nothing more than power”, you found yourself nodding before you could even register any consequences. He had you at the power being tripled.

“How insatiable”, the demon tapped his fingers against the desk as he hovered over you, “if I didn’t know better than I’d consider you a deadly sin. I think you’re more greedy than actual greed is” before you could argue his lips were pressed against your own in a feverous manner. It filled your body with warmth from the tips of your toes to the very top of your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back, feeling how his body got impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth when you felt his crotch rub against your own.

“Unless you’re even crazier than I thought, let’s do this somewhere there isn’t a dead body”, he laughed once he pulled away, your eyes going to the forgotten body on the floor. Your cheeks went red as the demon picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His wings wrapped around your body, encasing you in a makeshift shield as black smoke surrounded you both. His wings opened up to reveal your bedroom and you realized something as your back landed on the soft mattress.

“Wait- what’s your name?”, contrary to popular myths, demons had no trouble sharing their names. He had just simply forgotten.

“San”, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting the skin there as if you already belonged to him.

“San”, you repeated, testing the name and a rumble came from the demon’s chest. It was so similar to a growl that you had to look around the room to make sure no animals were there.

“Fuck, say it again”, his hands gripped the thin fabric of your shirt but he waited.

“San. Please”, there was a hint of desperation in your voice and it was something San had never heard from you. It made his eyes go blood red for a moment.

“Are you sure you want this? It will change everything”, you stared into his eyes and, for once, there wasn’t any fear in you. They were warm as they stared back at you, a sure fire way of San telling you he would never betray you.

“I’m sure. Let’s be powerful together”, you nodded and the demon smiled, ripping the fabric of your shirt apart like it was just some dusty old rag. Your hands held onto his suit and then you remembered something.

“Can I see them?”, San stopped to ponder what you meant. That’s when you lowered your hands to the small of his back, your hands gliding over the cuts on his back. That’s when he knew what you wanted.

“I didn’t think humans liked them”, he chuckled as he took off his own shirt, his wings springing out soon after. He kept them tucked towards him to avoid hitting anything on your end tables and all you could do was admire them as you laid there.

“I love them. So beautiful”, your fingers gently stroked them, trailing along the curve of the bone as if to memorize the feeling of them under your touch.

San nodded with a sincere smile, one you had yet to see. It took you off guard but you loved it. San pulled up your skirt and groaned when he saw how wet your panties had become. They were stuck to your folds, showing everything to him.

“You’re so wet, baby”, you whimpered when he trailed his finger up your folds and back down again. He simply pulled the panties to the side and you gasped when you felt his spit coat your opening. He then plunged it into you with his tongue, thrusting it inside of you and swirling his tongue to cut your walls with his saliva.

That’s when he realized you were already clenching around him in absolute sensitivity and pleasure. He looked up at you as he slowly pulled his tongue out, watching how your eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”, you flushed red from the question no matter how simple it sounded. San already knew the answer but he still wanted to hear it from you.

“Yeah, I am”, you sit up a little on your elbows, expecting the demon to stop. However, all he did was smirk and thrust his tongue back inside of you, causing your head to fall back. He swirled his tongue, searching for that certain spot inside of you that even you had never found before.

His fingers pinched and rubbed at your clit as he prepped you, causing your sweet moans to fill the room. The only thing San could think about was how badly he wanted to ruin you.

Eventually, he felt you were ready and he replaced his tongue with his fingers, scissoring you open. Then, he hit it. That special spot deep inside of you with his middle finger.

“Right there! Please”, you had never felt so good and your back arched as San kept hitting that spot with his fingers over and over like clock work.

You clenched around his fingers and he kept his pace steady as you came all over his fingers, coating them with your juices. He had you ride out your high and watched as you shook from the stimulation, barely holding onto his humanity.

He took his fingers out and you whined, feeling so hopelessly empty without them there. San licked one of his fingers, humming from how sweet you tasted. Then, he had another finger in front of your mouth.

You opened your mouth and he put the digit inside, your lips closing around it as you sucked on it to taste yourself. You did taste perfectly sweet.

“Sorry sweetheart, I can’t wait any longer”, you gulped when you saw something inside the demon snap. His hands quickly pulled his belt off and he tied your wrists together with them, attached to the bedpost.

You were too in awe from the sight of his cock to even care about the rough leather rubbing against your skin, his tip red and angry, coated in pre-cum. You wondered how it would even fit.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine”, before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his lips were on your’s as he lined himself up with your pussy. He slowly pushed in and you began to fill the pain until... you didn’t anymore.

It was as if the kiss was enough to blur your nerves and, before you knew it, San was all the way inside of you. The sight of his bulge was prominent in your stomach and, when he pulled away from the kiss, you could feel the tip brush against your cervix.

Your feelings rushed back in and you felt the stretch but it was no longer painful, your cunt used to being stuffed now. As he realized you were fine, San slowly started moving, groaning as your walls hugged his dick. You were so small in comparison to him and it felt perfect. You felt perfect.

Restraint inside of the demon slowly disappeared as he pounded into you, his hips snapping against your’s. His hand wrapped tightly around your throat when you got louder, squeezing it to cut off the air going to your lungs a little. Your eyes rolled back from all the pleasure and stimulation.

“Such a pretty whore. You feel so good”, San chuckled darkly, licking his lips as he looked down at you. Your breasts bounced from the force and he watched them, almost mesmerized by the movement as his tip continuously rammed into your g-spot.

You winced when San slapped you, a red hand imprinted on your skin. The sting only seemed to add to the pleasure and he noticed, deciding to slap your clit just as hard.

“Fuck! San!”, your breathing got caught in your throat as he continued to slap it, hitting the nerve over and over to watch your reaction. You clenched around him again as you began to feel overstimulated, the knot in your stomach releasing all over his cock.

San followed soon after, filling you up so much that you could see the bulge stay in your stomach even when he had pulled out. Your heavy breathing was all you were able to let out as San undid the belt.

You expected for it to be over but the demon simply gripped your hips and spread your legs to straddle his lap. You could feel his hard cock rubbing against your pussy lips and a rush of arousal went to your core again, his cum covering your thighs as it leaked out of you.

“It’s not over baby. I wanted to really look at you when I mark you”, your eyes went a little wide when San moved your hips to grind against his erection.

“Mark? What does that mean?”, San just shushed you and gave you his mischievous smile.

“You’ll see”, you were too needy to even care as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, feeling for the first time how it truly stretched you out. San gripped the back of your head and pressed his forehead against your’s in an attempt to distract you from any pain.

“Ride me and you’ll be all mine”, his words made you roll your hips faster even if you already knew you were putty in his hands. You were already his and have been. He made sure of that.

Soon, you began to get tired and San smiled, gripping your hips to keep you moving. He didn’t seem angry but you could tell his impatience was coming through.

“Useless whore. You can’t even ride a dick properly”, you looked down in embarrassment from his words. It was the only time you enjoyed not having control, when San had it.

The demon took control and thrusted up into you, controlling your movements to meet his own. The new position made your mouth hang open in a silent scream, your body too overwhelmed with pleasure to even let out sounds.

Even without words, San knew you were close with how your nails dug into his shoulders and your little cunt clenched around him. As you both approached your orgasms he nuzzled his face between your neck and shoulder.

You came together and he bit you, causing a scream to erupt from your body. Your body thrashed against him but he held you still as he slowly pulled his teeth out.

The bite slowly healed to reveal a distinct ‘S’ marked into your skin. San smiled and watched as the blood from the wound went down your body and stopped at the curve of your breast.

“Good girl. Finally being put to use”, the demon leaned his face down and licked up the blood from your breast to the mark on your shoulder, sending pleasant shivers up your body.

He was still buried inside of you as he maneuvered you both to lay down, spooning you to keep you warm.

“Now you’re all mine. Remember that. Or this deal may not last”, you could tell the end was meant as a threat. You belonged to San and that was that.

“I’m all your’s”, you nodded and closed your eyes, trying to calm your body.

“That’s right. Forever”.

“Even in-“, you were cut off when he pressed a kiss to the back of your head.

“Even in hell. Then it will be...”, he hummed as he thought.

“Infernal desire”.

#binxyu #san #ateez #san demon #demon ateez #san oneshot #san smut #ateez oneshots #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez san smut #ateez headcannons #ateez imagines #san imagines #san headcannons #kpop smut #kpop imagines #choi san #ateez san oneshots

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

My prompt is just more trans au. Various people reacting to baobei. Just i love trans au so much thank u for this gift.

Baobai Pt 1 - on tumblr, on ao3

“Oh, hey, you have a kid,” Wei Wuxian said, out of lack of any other conversational topics that weren’t ‘so are you here to kill us all?’. Kids were usually a good, neural topic, especially when they were that small. “Look at her, she’s so tiny! Her parents know you brought her out here?”

“She’s da-ge’s,” Lan Xichen said with a smile and a nod towards Nie Mingjue, who as tall and terrifying as always. He was glowering at the half-grown radish fields as if he was personally offended by them.

“Congratulations, Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian said to him, hoping to stave off any impending violence. The baby was young enough that the mom was probably still in isolation recovering, and maybe hadn’t consented to said baby being brought to the Burial Mounds of all places - certainly Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have agreed to cart a small infant all the way from Qinghe, and he’d thought mothers preferred to remain near their children in the few months after birth - but Wei Wuxian was not really in a position to object.

Certainly not after the quick work Nie Mingjue’s saber made of all of his defensive arrays. That man was scary.

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was awkward for a moment until he added, “Pain in the ass to acquire.”

That made everything better: Wei Wuxian knew how to deal with snark. “Oh yeah? Carried her yourself, did you?”

“Ten fucking months,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian laughed and shot Lan Xichen a wink, figuring that his stupid joke about having given birth to A-Yuan had made the rounds. Funny, he wouldn’t have pegged Lan Wangji to be the sort of person to pass on jokes…

At that point, Nie MIngjue twisted his head around to look at Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who were hovering nearby, trying to hide A-Yuan behind their legs, and said, “She’s your cousin three times removed, if I have my family tree down right, so stop being queasy and let the kid come see her.”

“Fuck,” Wen Qing said, and abruptly sat down. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Wuxian had the distinct feeling he was missing something, especially when Wen Ning’s expression shifted from equally puzzled to outright horrified.

“It’s not exactly your fault, you’re not soldiers,” Nie Mingjue said, and glared at the radish field again. “But in all seriousness: let the kid see her.”

Wen Qing waved a vague hand at A-Yuan, who correctly interpreted it as permission and zoomed over to the baby as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was in that another-kid-how-cool phase that all kids had, and babies were a particular fascination.

“You’re cousins?” Wei Wuxian asked Nie Mingjue, feeling a bit weird about. Three times removed wasn’t close, but still…of all people...“With the Wen sect? You?”

Nie Huaisang made a strangled noise that from anyone else Wei Wuxian would have said sounded a bit like he was going to imminently stab someone.

Nie Mingjue just gave Wei Wuxian a look like he was an idiot.

“No,” he said very slowly. “I’m not.”

Wei Wuxian continued not to get it, right up until he glanced at Wen Ning who mouthed a name at him and – wait, but no, that’s impossible – but he’d have to be – wait, he was from Qinghe –

Wei Wuxian suddenly noticed that he had sat down on the ground as well at some point.

“Pain in the ass,” he said blankly. “Right.”

Nie Huaisang was glaring at him like he really was going to pull out his never-used saber to start chopping Wei Wuxian into bits, and honestly that might be a preferable option to the sheer awkwardness of having just put two and two together like that in front of so many people. Maybe he could use demonic cultivation to open the ground up beneath him? It’d never been done before, but then again, that was most things he did…

“Why are people so weird about babies?” Nie Mingjue complained, picking up the baby in one arm and a giggling and blissfully ignorant A-Yuan in the other, swinging them both around a bit. “They’re like – lumps of little people. We were all babies once. It’s not that weird.”

“You heard him,” Jin Guangyao said to Wei Wuxian with a smile that looked like it had daggers in it. “It’s not weird at all. Right?”

“Right!” Wei Wuxian said hastily.

Apparently scary people flocked together. Though, did that mean there something he was missing about Lan Xichen..?

Lan Xichen smiled at Jin Guangyao, who smiled back. That was really the only good thing about these discussion conferences, he thought – they were long and draining and he had to meet a lot of people he didn’t want to see (Sect Leader Yao ranked highly), but he got to spend a great deal of time with his sworn brothers, which he didn’t often manage. And, really, that made everything worth it.

“How are things going?” he asked in an undertone, scanning Jin Guangyao with his eyes. Madame Jin did not have the reputation for being a kind woman, especially not about her husband’s affairs, and he couldn’t help but worry.

“Manageable,” Jin Guangyao assured him, though it wasn’t really that comforting. “It helps that this conference isn’t at Jinlin Tower – less to arrange, less work to fall on my shoulders. It’s positively easy by comparison. When did you arrive? We’ve been here for a shichen already, setting up.”

“Just now. They’re still moving our things into our rooms –”

“Er-ge! San-ge!” Nie Huaisang’s voice rang out, sharp and clear and murderous; they both turned to look at him at once to try to determine if it was the sort of murderous that meant someone had bought out a painting he’d liked before he got there or if it someone had actually offended him. He had a fixed smile on his face, which boded no one any good. “I was just looking for you. I want to chat.”

“What happened?” Lan Xichen asked, looking around – they were more or less alone, and a quick hand-seal made it so that they wouldn’t be easily overheard. “Did someone do something to Baobei…?”

He couldn’t believe they still hadn’t named her, the poor thing.

(Jin Guangyao had briefly been lobbying for them to name her A-Shi, but then Nie Mingjue told him that if he wanted to have a girl named Nie Shi he ought to man up and sire her himself, and ever since then Jin Guangyao had been proposing different names entirely. Possibly he was concerned Nie Mingjue would take back the offer if he used up the name.)

“Surely not,” Jin Guangyao said. “In the middle of the Lotus Pier…?”

“Not Baobei,” Nie Huaisang said. “But your father just figured out who carried her, and he just – he put his hands – he said he had the right to check on account of da-ge having misled them –”

Lan Xichen observed, a little distantly, that he’d previously thought that the phrase ‘seeing red’ was an exaggeration, rather than a perfectly accurate description.

“Did da-ge rip him to pieces?” Jin Guangyao asked, sounding as if he was very much in favor of that result.

“He did not,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know how he is during these conferences; he’s far too reserved. Slapped his hands away but didn’t do anything else about it.”

“Surely that would put an end to it…?” Lan Xichen suggested, mildly hopeful, but the expression on Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang’s face did not fill him with much expectation.

“He’ll try something,” Jin Guangyao said flatly. His voice tremored briefly, full of rage even he couldn’t hide, and he gripped his hands together tightly. “He will try something.”

“Sect Leader Jiang will help us keep them separate for the conference,” Nie Huaisang said. “He still hasn’t figured out the details of Baobei’s parentage, I think he’s convinced himself that men just bear children – in some way that man is as dumb as a rock, same as when we were teenagers, I don’t know how anyone is that gullible – but he’s offended on da-ge’s behalf anyway. But when the conference is over for the evening…”

“It would be unfilial of me to plan my own father’s assassination,” Jin Guangyao said, and his eyes slide towards Lan Xichen, questioning. “But if you wanted to have a theoretical discussion regarding the security system at Jinlin Tower, and the weaknesses thereof…”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said, putting aside all concerns regarding the morality of assassinations, and found that he didn’t regret the decision one bit. He’d barely tolerated that lecher when he had no choice, when he was Jin Guangyao’s father and a powerful sect leader. But putting his hands on da-ge – thinking of doing more – “Let’s have that...theoretical discussion.”

“I knew I could count on you two,” Nie Huaisang said with satisfaction. “So here’s what I was thinking –”

One of the worst days of Nie Huaisang’s life started quite normally – waking up when his brother lifted him bodily out of bed and slung him over his shoulder.

“Da-ge!” he yelped. “Da-ge, no – it’s too early –”

“If you stayed up late, that’s your own problem,” his brother said with the sort of purposeful cheerful sadism that only a person who actually enjoyed waking up with the sun to go train could employ. “I told you yesterday that we were going to be training this morning.”

“But da-ge –”

“You missed the last three days. You’re not missing today.”

But it’s so fucking early, Nie Huaisang thought despairingly, drooping into dead weight over his brother’s shoulder – not that that helped, of course. His brother was too damn strong.

“Are you sure you’re not taking out your feelings about getting fat on me?” he asked, poking at his brother’s somewhat-rounder-than-usual waist. “That peacetime bulge of yours hasn’t gotten any smaller, you know…”

In all honestly, Nie Huaisang was delighted by the small swell of his brother’s usually flat stomach. His brother wasn’t vain – his body was a tool shaped for purpose – and the idea that his brother had finally let go enough, whether by eating more or resting more, to actually gain some weight…

“Whatever you say, pork bun,” his brother said, and Nie Huaisang yelped and hit him because he was not a pork bun! No matter how pale or chubby he might become!

It was a hot day, which of course made going through the steps of training even more miserable than usual. His brother was patient as always, showing him the steps and then making him repeat them a few times before starting up his own morning training routine; after a while, they both got into a nice rhythm, swings and chops.

Training wasn’t that bad, especially when it meant he could spend more time with his always-busy brother. He still didn’t like it, and obviously he had a reputation to uphold, and yes, it was obnoxious to get up early...but it could be worst.

And then, just as Nie Huaisang was turning to tell his brother a joke he’d heard the day before, he saw his brother abruptly turn pale and fall over.

He even dropped Baxia.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang screamed, a thousand ancient fears rearing their heads at once, and he rushed over at top speed. “Someone get a doctor! Quick!”

Not a qi deviation, not a qi deviation, don’t be a qi deviation, he prayed, dropping to his knees next to his brother, who was already waking up – eyes clear, not red, and looking more confused than anything else. He’s too young, I’m not ready, I can’t lose him, not him, not yet, please –

On Nie Huaisang’s instructions, some of the nearby retainers helped Nie Mingjue back inside, even though he was insisting that he was fine.

“You collapsed,” Nie Huaisang snapped at him. “In morning training. You are going to see a doctor, and that’s final.”

Nie Mingjue held up his hands in surrender, looking amused at Nie Huaisang’s uncharacteristic fierceness. His amusement faded into sympathy when he realized why Nie Huaisang was so tense – their father’s death had hit them both hard – and he pulled Nie Huaisang into his arms for a hug.

“It’s not that,” he said confidently. “Not yet. The doctor will tell you.”

The doctor’s face did something funny, though, when he listened to Nie Mingjue’s pulse. Not the oh-no-it-really-is-a-minor-qi-deviation sort of funny or even a nah-total-fluke-you’re-overreacting sort of funny, more of a what-the-fuck sort of funny.

“What is it?” Nie Huaisang demanded. He knew enough medicine – the entire Nie sect knew enough medicine – to understand most basic diagnoses, as well as what they might mean for future health. “What type of pulse?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Well?” Nie Mingjue said. “Spit it out.”

“…a joy pulse,” the doctor said. “About five months, I’d guess.”

For a moment Nie Huaisang didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what a joy pulse was – he did have female friends, some of whom were now mothers – nor that he didn’t know that his brother was capable of carrying, he’d known that forever.

It was just that his brother was an antisocial misanthrope. He didn’t have any lovers, as far as Nie Huaisang knew, which meant he shouldn’t have a joy pulse.

Besides, five months ago they were still at war! His brother took his duties far too seriously to waste time on a battlefield dallying with someone, anyone, and especially not if there was a major battle around that time. Five months ago there must have been one – which one was it?

Five months…the main force of the army had gone up from Xingtai to Shijiazhuang six months ago, and then there would have been – Yangquan.

Yangquan.

When his brother had been duped by false information into leading an attack on what should have been a mostly abandoned outpost, but which turned out to be in the middle of being reinforced by Wen Ruohan personally – when his brother had been captured – tortured – and even -

“Shit,” his brother said, presumably realizing at that exact moment that Nie Huaisang was capable of math and also dates and possibly even logic. “Doctor, you can go, thank you.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t even hear the doctor leave.

“Huaisang…didi…” His brother was trying to pull him into a hug, but Nie Huaisang didn’t want one, struggling unsuccessfully to get away. He didn’t want to be any closer to – to that – to the creature sitting his brother’s stomach, weighing him down; to what he’d thought was a sign of peace and good times and what was actually nothing more than yet another scar left by the war.

He’d actually been happy about it, and the thought twisted his stomach.

“Can you get rid of it?” he asked, voice strangled. “You can, right? It’s still early…”

“Five months is pretty close to quickening,” his brother said, wincing. “After quickening, the medicines don’t work as well. It might not be that easy.”

“Do you know how dangerous childbirth is?!” Nie Huaisang demanded. His mouth was moving on automatic; he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. He wasn’t thinking of anything, anything at all, because if he was thinking he’d have to think – he’d have to – his brother – “What if it kills you? You can’t let them kill you! Not after everything we did to avenge A-die!”

“I’m not going to die,” Nie Mingjue said, holding him tightly, his chin on Nie Huaisang’s head the way they always where when they hugged. “I’m a very good cultivator, Huaisang. My golden core will keep me healthy, even if I start bleeding…it won’t be like your mother. I promise.”

Nie Huaisang started shaking. “Da-ge,” he whimpered, pressing his face into his brother’s shoulder. “Da-ge, tell me…”

“Anything,” his brother promised, and he’d regret that promise in another moment, Nie Huaisang knew, the question would only cause him pain, but he needed to know. The second they were out of this situation his brother would clam up, pretend that nothing had happened and that it was all fine, so if he had questions – and he did – then he needed to answer them now.

“Was it – who was it? Was it him?”

His brother stilled.

“You said you’d tell me,” Nie Huaisang reminded him.

“…I don’t know,” his brother said. “I don’t – it could be. But it might be – someone else.”

There had been more than one, then. Nie Huaisang swallowed back bile, wanting to be sick. His father’s murderer had forced himself on his brother, and he’d let others do the same, and now they had to deal with the fallout.

“I want to kill them,” he whispered. “I want – I want them dead – all of them –”

“If it’s anything, I’ve made a pretty good head start on that already?” his brother offered, and of course his brother was trying to find some levity in a terrible situation. “We broke them, Huaisang. Even if some individuals remain, there’s no Wen sect left. If I do end up keeping it, the child won’t have a paternal family to lay a claim – they’ll be surnamed Nie. Another Nie, like you and me. You’ll be their uncle; you have to forgive them, it wasn’t their fault...you have to spoil them rotten.”

His brother’s thumb wiped away some of Nie Huaisang’s tears.

“You’ll be a good uncle, didi,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Nie Huaisang’s brow. “If the child is surnamed Nie, that’s all that matters.”

“People will know,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “About you, about…I’m not the only one who can do math. We won’t…it can’t be kept quiet, can it? People will know. About you, about - what happened.”

“Let people know,” his brother, brave as ever, said with an indifferent shrug. “What do I care? In the end, it’s just another way to show that even when they threw everything they had against me, I still won.”

“What a charming child you have,” the young man from the mountain – Xiao Xingchen, he said his name was, and he was already famous despite having only been around for a few months – said, smiling down at her. “She’s beautiful.”

Nie Mingjue was not currently feeling especially kindly disposed towards human reproduction at the moment, being currently heavy with his second – the world needed more Nies, he wanted more Nies, children to keep Nie Huaisang company if that qi deviation he was promised ever actually turned up, and he had a very good list of cultivators with various pros and cons willing to help him introduce some more diversity into the Nie bloodline to try to minimize the chance of future qi deviations for his descendants, but at the same time he hated waddling around like a stuffed hippo with a bunch of people insisting that he not even think of physical exertion – but he nodded his thanks regardless.

At least for once someone wasn’t going to comment about the child’s parentage, he reflected wryly. There was only so much purposeful playing dumb a man could do, and the first year or so of his little baobei’s life – by the time they’d finally gotten around to trying to name her, the nickname had stick so firmly that they’d succumbed to reality and made her given name A-Bao, though of course, it being Qinghe, no one actually called her that – had really strained his tolerance in that specific regard.

It was the quickest way to avoid awkwardness, to pass along the information while avoiding conversations he didn’t want to have, but still…

Nobody brought up on a celestial mountain would know about Wen Ruohan, though. He was pretty sure of that.

“And I see you’re expecting another? Sometime soon..?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Soon enough.”

Not soon enough. He wanted to go back to training – why did he keep getting high blood pressure no matter how much medicine he took?

“I see,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You’ll have to let me give you a gift of some sort. Do you have a favorite form of cloth?”

Nie MIngjue blinked at him. “Cloth?”

That was a strange gift. Did Xiao Xingchen think that his sect was so poor that he couldn’t cloth a child?

Xiao Xingchen – who was really quite young – blushed red, the color going all the way to his ears.

“I’m sorry for my presumption,” he said, then hesitated, before saying, very delicately, “Have you finished preparing the nest for the egg, then?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #jin guangyao #lan xichen #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #baby dage #thevasthonk

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uniquevocashark · 4 years

Text

A Good Servant Part 3

Content Warnings for:

murder, blood, slut shaming, implied/referenced mutilation (nonconsensual glossectomy), smoking, mentioned domestic abuse

The blood on your shoulder starts to itch by the time the cousin is gone, and Lady Dimitrescu finally deigns to acknowledge either you or her pet. Daniela has long since disappeared in a cloud of buzzing insects and you’ve kept your hands busy by doting on the Lady as she sees fit. It doesn’t help, and her odd silence annoys you.

She lounges comfortably on a chaise lounge, mulling over a single bottle of wine, a book she isn’t reading propped up on a lectern before her. The room is hazy with cigarette smoke, muting the redness of the walls and blurring them into a dark maroon. She points at you with her chin, and you clean away the stain at the corner of her mouth.

Lady Dimitrescu tilts her pet’s head up by the chin too gently than she usually does in front of an audience and her tone is thick and syrupy in the cold silence, “Where were you, pet?”

Her pet doesn’t speak.

“You want me to believe you were attacked,” Lady Dimitrescu muses, and you take the cup from her, “You want me to believe you weren’t down there for a reason. You want me to believe you didn’t have a secret room. So many wants but you won’t speak. What rules are you breaking, pet?”

Lady Dimitrescu had postponed dinner, which meant that you had to hole Rachel up in the communal bedroom rather than bring her out immediately, so now you were understaffed. You suppose, technically, that they are the Lady’s staff and if she wishes to have less staff members she is entitled to do so. You just wish it wasn’t so bloody inconvenient.

Lady Dimitrescu leans forward, cupping her ear as if she was straining to hear something, “Speak up, dear. I can’t hear you.”

Her pet still doesn’t speak.

The Lady sighs and she has you hold her wineglass as she drinks. An action she only lets her pets do. She closes her eyes for a second after you pull the glass away, and her pet cringes back a step.

Lady Dimitrescu extends her claws and sends you from the room without a word.

…

Dinner is served at 12:30 in the morning and Lady Dimitrescu still has not spoken to you.

The only food that could be properly warmed in time, by sheer coincidence, is the broth you had insisted upon. The Lady’s pet, you’re surprised to find, is still alive but Lady Dimitrescu has never been one to kill her pets on purpose. For as long as you have worked for her, at least. The only caveat is that Mihaela has to spoon feed her carefully and her bloody drool and tears must be wiped away after each spoonful. Her pet has already ruined the front of her new dress.

You positioned Rachel nearest to the Lady and she practically vibrates with nerves while she fills Lady Dimitrescu’s wine flute. She isn’t as nervous as you think she should be. She doesn’t know that her husband is currently with Miss Daniela, though. Or that the Lady knows of her extra martial activities. The stringent adherence to the supposed sanctity of marriage is the only hold over from her protestant upbringing.

Other than the broth, there are a series of rainbow-coloured jellies shaped like butterflies and flowers, arrayed together on their plates to form a meadow. There are a range of cakes; cheesecakes and pound cakes, red velvet and the ever-present chocolate cake that Miss Bela has already smeared all over her sleeves. Miss Daniela’s favourite, pineapple cake, remains untouched near the candelabra.

It isn’t until two in the morning, once the main course is served, that you bring Rachel’s husband into the dining room and Daniela forces the gardener next to her mother. Lady Dimitrescu kept intensive records on all families under her duty of care; she knew the time and date of all births, deaths and marriages of her subjects. She knew when they ate well and when they starved, she knew when they prayed and to whom, she knew when their children came of age and when their adults reached old age.

The Bradley’s were what she had deemed a trial group. Given special privileges to inspire a new flavour. But that was rather tangential. What mattered was that Lady Dimitrescu found their taste unsuited for any palate; Rachel’s indiscretion was merely the icing on the cake.

Lady Dimitrescu rubs the drool off her pet’s chin, “Mr. Bradley.”

Rachel’s husband has a voice that sounds strange with how quietly he talks, his accent slurring the ends of words with the start of the next, “Yes, my Lady?”

She smiles, her teeth stained pinkish. She pulls Rachel’s corpse forward with a finger hooked around the collar of her dress, and it falls forward and splatters a bowl of broth over him. Her throat is a mess of bitten out tendons and mangled vocal cords. You are impressed, as always, that Lady Dimitrescu has not one drop of blood on her dress. “I believe you lost this.”

He breathes through his nose, “Rachel.”

She drags her finger through the weeping hole and licks a drop from her finger.

“Why?” He asks with an emotion you can't identify. He doesn’t try to run, or freak out, or even go for the steak knife sitting pleasantly on the table next to his plate.

“She was an unfaithful whore,” Lady Dimitrescu sneers, “You didn’t beat her hard enough.”

He doesn’t blink, “That’s barbaric.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mr. Bradley. Your face isn’t suited for it.”

A muscle feathers in his cheek when she looks away from him. He isn’t old, but he isn’t young either and he’s missing fingers from frostbite. He has a ruddy complexion, but you suppose he’s handsome. In the way that stuffed elk heads are handsome.

Daniela, blissfully unaware, picks up her blood covered cake. “Oh, I love pineapple cake!”

…

“You were nervous earlier,” Lady Dimitrescu says, after the table has cleared, “Why was that?”

“It’s already been corrected.” You reply.

She sighs out a long string of smoke, “Has it?” You don’t answer and she laughs, a quiet chuckle that’s more a sigh than anything. She flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette. “Mother Miranda wanted to speak to you. A call will be coming through later.”

You nod. “Very well, Madame.”

Lady Dimitrescu looks at you, and you look at her. She blows smoke in your face and you squint against it. It means you don’t see her hand as it comes to stroke idly at your cheek, or the way her pet looks at you from under the table.

You frown at her, “You’re upset with me.”

She doesn’t answer.

You lean into her hand a little and she twirls a strand of your hair around a finger, pursing her lips. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” She mumbles, and you lean towards her to catch her next words, “I just hate not knowing things.”

You step away from her and head towards the door. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you to get used to it.”

She doesn’t speak again, the usual banter she responds with lost in the vague expression of disdain on her face.

…

The phone rings late the next day, while you’re busy scrubbing at the dishes to help keep everything running on schedule. You end up taking the call while folding the loose clothing that hadn’t been folded in a week.

“Dimitrescu residence.”

“Finally,” Mother Miranda sighed through the phone.

“Mother Miranda.”

“Wesker.” She replied.

You pause, wrestling down a sudden lump in your throat and settling the phone between your ear and your shoulder. “Hello.” You say unevenly.

Mother Miranda’s laugh is no less lovely through the speaker than it is in real life, “You’ve been well, I take it?”

“Very well, Mother Miranda,” You flex your free fingers, then grab another pair of stockings, “You wished to speak with me?”

“I did. Have you had any relapses?”

“No, Mother Miranda.”

“You're healing properly?”

“Yes, Mother Miranda.”

“Excellent. Vanessa wanted me to inform you that she’ll be there on the morrow.”

You drop the shift you were folding. “Excuse me?”

“Did Alcina not tell you?”

“It must have slipped her mind.” You say lightly, placing the shift back into the basket.

“Vanessa will collect more data, but your condition is promising. I’ll call again in a week with the results.”

“Thank you, Mother Miranda.”

She laughs again and you can imagine her clearly. The dark red velvet of her armchair, the hewn strength of her face, the glimmer of her dark eyes. “Take care.” She cooed and hung up.

You place the phone down gently and stand there in silence until Mihaela calls you to the Lady’s room.

…

You try to keep your temper in check when Mihaela leaves but struggle with it to a point that you have to look at her pet instead. Even that doesn’t help, because her pet has dropped all pretence of being meek and glares at you from her spot. She isn’t near the Lady, curled instead behind the bed with a glare towards you.

She should be grateful that she only lost her tongue.

It takes you a moment to realise that you’ve let the silence drag on too long to be polite and that Lady Dimitrescu has abandoned her own charade of being engrossed in a book of poetry she hasn’t touched in years. You flex your fingers.

“Madame.” You say but forgo a bow.

“You’re upset.” She observes mildly.

“God forbid I have a temper.”

The room goes silent again, but you aren’t in a hurry to smooth it over, cataloguing the shock that twists her face. Her eyes are wide, and her smile shows too many teeth, but you’ve never been one to shy away because of a few fangs. She rises from her chair, stepping over the bloody stain in the carpet as she looms over you.

“I beg your pardon.”

“I could ask the same.” You snap.

She raises a brow.

“How dare you,” You snarl, jabbing a finger up at her, and you struggle with your words, “How fucking dare you!”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil 8 #A Good Servant #my writing #little more disjointed but whatever #mother miranda makes an appearance

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oreoambitions · 4 years

Text

It's been almost a week since Sam came to National City to ask for Kara's help, but it's been only two days since The Talk.

It was Lena who approached Supergirl first, who asked for a meeting at L-Corp and then struggled to break the news. She ordered them iced coffees and they sat awkwardly on opposite sides of her desk, Lena struggling uncharacteristically to find the right words, and Supergirl trying not to think about all the times she's been in this office as Kara, Just Kara, and how much it chafes to continue the charade.

"I lied about the test results," Lena said at last. "It was- I'm sorry. It was very important to Sam. She wanted to protect Ruby, and-"

"Sam's Kryptonian," Supergirl whispered. It felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. "Even without Reign."

"Yes."

"And Ruby..."

"Half Krpytonian. Yes. But it's Sam I wanted to talk to you about. I know the two of you have a history-"

Supergirl waved her hand, as if she could have dismissed Reign with a simple gesture. "That wasn't Sam," she said, and she meant it. "But that was months ago. Why tell me now?"

Lena gazed into her coffee, and then out the window at National City, and Supergirl waited for the inevitable request to come. She waited and waited and just when she thought she might have to break the silence herself, Lena spoke. "She's having a hard time controlling her powers, and we didn't know who else to go to. Will you help her?"

As if Supergirl could ever have said no.

It was Alex who came to Kara as Kara, who showed up at her apartment door the next evening with a bag of bribery potstickers and an anxious frown.

"Sam..." she began.

"I know." Kara set plates out on the bar and avoided meeting Alex's eyes. "Lena told me yesterday. Well, she told Supergirl."

"Oh."

There was a comfortable quiet between them for a few minutes as food was served and beer bottles were opened and only when Kara was settled comfortably on her stool did Alex start to talk.

"We stayed in touch after she left National City. And I had my doubts, but Lena said she was human and she didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I left it alone. But then a couple of weeks ago-"

"You've known about this for weeks?" Kara actually put a potsticker down out of sheer incredulity. "And you didn't tell me?"

Alex made a face. "It wasn't my secret to tell. And she promised she would talk to you about it. Well, to Supergirl. But I don't think it's Supergirl she needs right now." Alex turned sideways in her stool to fix Kara with her very best, most serious pleading expression. "She's completely terrified. She has no idea what she's doing, and she doesn't have Clark to help her deal with this. She's got a lot of blood on her hands, and I just think that what she needs right now is to talk to somebody who's been through it. Somebody human. Well, not human, but you know what I mean. Somebody she can relate to."

Which is how two days ago Kara came to be hovering outside of Sam's hotel room, a hundred feet or so in the air, in her civilian clothes. She hesitated. It was dangerous to be out in civilian clothes, and so the hesitation was foolish, but she couldn't bring herself to hurry. To reveal her identity to anyone at all was a risk. To reveal it to Lena's best friend was downright stupid. But it had to be done. Kara tapped on the window, gentle at first, and then more firmly when Sam didn't come right away.

Sam pulled the blinds back with an awed expression, seeing Kara without really seeing her, already reaching for the latch when she said, "Supergirl! I- Wait. Kara?"

Kara eased herself through the window and brushed off her jeans. "I think we should talk," she said.

///// It took two days of conversation, meditation, and tears before Sam agreed to learn to fly, and now they're here on the mountain where the DEO once put a very green Supergirl through her paces. There are no tests to run now, no military to win over, no point to prove. Just Alex, Sam, Kara, and the open sky.

"Are you ready?" Kara asks.

Sam shifts her weight from foot to foot and looks up at all that bright blue nothing. "The last time I flew, people died. You almost died."

Kara nods. They've been over this hangup a couple of times now, and there isn't much left to say. "That wasn't you," she says anyway. It doesn't hurt for Sam to hear it again.

"What if I fall?"

"It doesn't hurt." Kara looks at Sam out of the corner of her eye, at her crossed arms and closed expression, hoodie and sweats even in the heat of the day. "You might leave a mark on the mountainside, but I don't think anybody's going to notice. Not a big deal. Promise."

"It's not hitting the mountain I'm afraid of," Sam says. "It's just the falling."

Kara doesn't have an answer to that.

They stand there together for a while until Alex pats Sam twice on the shoulder and walks away to watch from the other side of the plateau. Kara pretends not to notice that Sam's hands start shaking in Alex's absence. She kicks off gently from the ground and hovers some ten feet up.

"Just come up to me," she says. "Nice and easy. And then, if you want, we can go back down."

For a moment it seems like maybe Sam doesn't know how to take off. She sort of half hops and then huffs, turns all the way around to throw her arms up with exasperation in Alex's general direction, turns back around and looks up, closes her eyes. Kara has been there.

"You know," she says. "In a couple of years you'll be back here teaching Ruby how to do this. If it is Rao's will."

Sam opens her eyes.

"You really think she'll be able to? Do all this?"

Kara shrugs. "We don't know. Maybe." There's no precedent for a half-Kryptonian child on Earth as far as Kara knows, but she's asked Lena, and Lena says probably. Almost definitely. She says Ruby is already showing signs, but that Sam is afraid to see them, that the best thing Supergirl can do for Ruby and Sam both is to make Sam as comfortable as possible in her own body.

Sam kicks off the ground. She shoots up a little too fast at first with a yelp, overshoots Kara and has to bring herself back down. Her cheeks are flushed and her whole body is trembling, but she's doing it: she's flying.

"There you go," Kara says with a bright smile. "See? Super easy. Like riding a bike."

"I don't like bikes," Sam mumbles.

Kara isn't sure if that's true or if Sam is trying to make a quip about flying. "You want to go up a little higher?"

They spend an hour on it. Sam stays close to the ground at first, testing her limits, always afraid of falling even as the sky itself steadfastly holds her up. Kara takes her on laps around the mountain range, faster and faster, higher and higher, until Sam puts on a burst of speed and breaks the sound barrier. Alex whoops far below, and Sam comes to a halt laughing and crying as Kara wraps her arms around her for a midair hug.

"See? You've got this. You were born for this."

Sam says nothing for a long while, weeping into Kara's shoulder. Kara holds her tight. To the right stretch the city and the sea, and to the left the desert on and on forever, and there's Sam in the middle of it all flying for the first time, and Kara is feeling small and magnificent and less alone than she has in a long time.

Sam pulls away and wipes her face. "Do you think..." She looks out at the city and shakes her head once, hard.

"Do I think what?"

Sam makes a pained face. "It's stupid."

"Nothing is stupid today."

"Do you think I could do what you do? Do you think I could help?" She fixes Kara with a serious expression. "I know I have a lot to learn. But I want to do some good; I feel like I have to do something. I know it was Reign who killed all those people, but it was this body, and I want... Sitting at home watching you on the news knowing I could have been there to back you up, I felt guilty. And useless."

Kara hums. "If this is something you want. But you have to really want it."

"Do I get to wear a cool suit?"

"I think Brainy would give his right arm for the opportunity to design a cool suit for you."

Sam laughs at that. "No skirts though," she says. "The skirt thing is all you."

Kara scrunches up her nose, but she doesn't answer. The skirt is getting old, and perhaps its time she had a conversation with Brainy about a new suit, too. But Brainy is about to have plenty to do, so perhaps not.

"When will you tell Ruby about your powers?"

Sam raises her eyebrows. "When will you tell Lena about yours?"

"That's not fair; it's a completely different situation," Kara protests.

"Because you're in love with her?"

Kara's stomach drops as though she'd suddenly fallen from the air. She turns away. Even from here she can spy the little black van winding its way up to the top of the mountain. Lena is in that car, and Kara's second student. Kara isn't ready. Kara isn't sure she will ever be ready.

"Let's do a few more laps before they get here," she says.

Lena arrives dressed more appropriately for a gala than for standing in the dust on the top of a desert mountain, high heels and a skin tight dress, hair falling loose over her shoulders. Kara almost laughs when she sees her, feels almost crushed beneath the sudden rush of grief and affection, but she doesn't come down to the ground. This is all difficult enough from here, thank you. Alex can do all the necessary talking; Kara will stay out of the way.

Sam touches down though and throws her arms around Lena, and Kara can hear them laughing together, can see the glow of pride in Lena's face as she holds Sam by the shoulders, can practically feel the warmth of the love between them. And then the second figure gets out of the car, shoulders hunched in her muscle tank, blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She's cautious, hovering at Lena's shoulder like a ghost.

Lena pushes the newcomer gently towards Sam. Sam cocks her head to one side and glances up at Kara, then at Alex.

"Linda," Lena says, "This is Sam. She's going to fly with you and Supergirl today. Sam, this is the woman I was telling you about."

Linda reaches for a handshake. Sam brushes her arm aside and goes for a hug.

"I didn't know Supergirl had a twin," Sam comments.

"She didn't," Linda replies.

Kara drifts a little higher into the sky. Sam comes up to join her at Lena's request, granting her a moment of privacy with Linda, at least to the extent that one can enjoy privacy in Kryptonian company. And Kara wants to look away because damn it all to hell Sam is right. Sam is right and Kara is in love and she would give anything, anything at all, to be Linda in that moment when Lena kisses her mouth right there in the dust in the sun at the top of the world.

"You can do this," Lena whispers, and Kara wants to curse her super hearing and she wants to curse her heart and she wants to curse the fact that she can't bring herself to hate the person who won Lena before Kara could work up the courage because it's Linda. Linda who nearly gave her life to save Kara's. Linda who lay unconscious in the DEO for days and days while she recovered from Kryptonite poisoning, and longer still while she waited out a solar flare so intense that for a while they weren't sure her powers would ever return. How could Kara hate her? It isn't her fault, not really.

Kara finally turns away. She does another lap around the mountain range to clear her mind and when she returns Linda is standing on the ridge of the valley leaning out over the precipice. Sam says nothing, doesn't ask why Kara never mentioned Linda, doesn't ask whether this has something to do with her decision to withhold her identity from Lena. She just squeezes Kara's shoulder and offers a sad, knowing smile.

"Are you ready?" Kara calls down.

Linda steps out into empty space.

For a split second Kara is afraid that Linda's powers haven't returned after all, that they've made a terrible mistake, and Sam must feel the fear too because they both flinch forward. But the air holds, and Linda stands there perfectly still, hovering just a few inches above the ground. It's as though the world freezes for a moment. And then she looks up, and she smiles.

Kara lets out a breath she never realized she was holding.

"See?" Sam calls down. "Like riding a bike."

Linda looks confused, and Kara laughs, and then the three of them are standing together in the sky holding one another by the forearms and the shoulders as though holding one another up.

"Do you think..." Linda begins. She looks out at the desert and shakes her head once, hard. Kara has a moment of intense deja vu.

"Do I think what?"

"Maybe we can make a better world," Linda says. She meets Kara's eyes cautiously at first, not looking straight at her, as though Kara will reprimand her or turn away.

Kara looks at each of them in turn, and then down to where Alex and Lena are leaning against the van, watching. What an unlikely family they are: the head of a covert government agency, a billionaire super genius CEO, the liberated vessel of a lost god, an accidental clone, and the last daughter of Krpyton. Well, not the last daughter after all. She smiles. "Maybe we have already begun."

#supergirl #supergirl fic #ficlet #kara danvers #sam arias #lena luthor #red daughter #linda lee #commiecorp #supercorp

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siremasterlawrence · 4 years

Text

Traverse The Universe Part 4

I wave my hand to send the other two out of the room.

All that is left is Nightwing in his costume showing off.

His body gloriousness of body bulging out to let me see.

“Master, What do you will to happen?”

“Master? Master are you there?”

“You and Robin shall follow this plan to the letter.”

“Yes Master.” Both guys smile with a evil grin.

They can’t help himself themselves crazy with my mission they break in.

In Titans Tower they set the traps for their former allies.

Out of the shadows as Superboy floats I’m from the back, and he stares.

“Well... you called this meeting guys.”

“Exactly, I did budd.” Robin states throwing a small green rock.

It lodged itself in to his skin forcing his hard body down.

“What exactly did you think would be the result or happen?”

Nightwing is sliding out in to the edge of the room.

His hand slams a fist full off needles in to Superboy’s back.

Connor tries to fight if wailing him in to a psychotic fit.

“Wwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy?”

“Because Master wants you and he gets all he wants.”

“Fuck you....ffffuuuucccckkk oooffff.” Connor swears

—————-

“Come out, come out wherever you are”

“What are you doing Superboy?”

“Robin and I are here to save you?”

“Isn’t that right Dick?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You shall submit to my Master.”

“Hell to the no.” Beast boy crawls in range.

“I will destroy you both or die trying.” Beast boy calls out.

Beast Boy rips off his clothes, slowly now turning in to a green tiger.

It is truly a wonderful sight to see Super Boy fly by him.

Super Boy with one foul swing grabbing his tail.

He uses his own strength lifting him in to the air.

He swings away throwing Beast Boy in to the air.

Nightwing comes down stigma stems are at it yet again one attack.

Beast Boy is in horror at the evil radiant smile coming from both men.

“This will be done tonight Dick and The boy Connor.”

“It is way too late to back out of this now.”

The two inject Beast Boy with the serum as his eyes go dim.

“My love, can you hear me Master?” Dick speaks in to his com device.

“Yes it is over, everything has commence.”

————-

Hawk cannot believe his eyes from a far away safe house.

He is in awe of the sheer evil behavior of his own pals.

“Please it’s over.” Hawk grimaces using his fist to push him over the edge.

Hawk fledges forward jumping off the roof he spreads his arms.

“Action ready to be preparing to fight him.” He thinks to himself.

He flips on to the city street swings his arms as weapons flew at his toe friends.

“Oh! It’s only Hawk, just Hawk nothing else.”

“How disappointing to find him hear so weak.”

“Did you honestly just say that to my face.”

Hawks anger rages out of his body heat is purely overtaking him.

He flew off the ground ready to land and fight for his life.

“Let’s do this Nightwing or is it Robin?”

“Smartass Hank always saying shit out of his mouth.”

“I will teach you to respect your leader.” Nightwing says.

Beast Boy wakes up transforming in to giant snake and shoots at Hawk.

Beast Boy bites on to Hawk never letting him go.

Hank flings his arms throwing him on to the street.

Beast Boy roars with contempt for his ex friend, and teammate.

“Kill him for Master.” Nightwing urges him on in distraction.

Behind on to his neck his needle injects and he is utterly enslave.

The end.

Prior

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niqhtlord01 · 5 years

Text

Humans are weird: Alien movies are military training videos.

Thirteen years after what became known as the “Contact Wars” a relative peace had been established between the Ureti Conglomerate and the Terran Federation. The Ureti were several species which had banded together for mutual protection, their leadership following closely along the lines of a military council with members from all Conglomerate species represented. The Federation was made up of all human nations on both their homeworld and outlying colonies under the leadership of an elected general secretary. The war started over a disputed colony on the planet Karkova where human settlers were driven off by a Conglomerate mining detail. Some deaths on both sides happened which resulted with fierce back and forth between the two powers. It didn’t take long for open hostilities to be triggered and full scale war was declared soon after. The Conglomerate assumed that with their vast technological superiority the war would be over in less than a solar cycle. Instead, it devolved into a grueling thirteen year conflict which saw countless lives on both sides lost and in some cases entire worlds were devastated. This was the first major setback the Conglomerate had experienced against a foe they were assured would be no threat. The humans standard weaponry was so basic that they relied on firing metal projectiles at high speeds instead of concentrated energy rounds and their fleets were limited in the distance they could travel. Yet still their advance was that of an onrushing tide. They laid ambushes for Ureti fleets, sabotaged supply lines far inside Ureti territory, launched seemingly suicidal raids on orbital platforms and facilities crippling the ability to refit. The planetary invasions soon followed and despite once again being outmatched in weaponry Federation forces were able to time and again overcome impossible odds. With the war reaching ever closer to the home worlds of Ureti the leadership made the move to sue for peace. They gave up several outlying colonies to the Terran’s along with the rights to several mineral and gas mining outposts. In truth these facilities and planets were so badly damaged that to rebuild them would have been far more expensive than simply uprooting the populations to less damaged worlds. The real reason such measures were taken was so that the Terran’s would not be suspicious when the Ureti wanted the Terran military to allow special “advisers” from the Ureti to be attached to Terran forces. The cover was these advisers would be there to ensure that the Federation would honor the peace accords, but in reality they would act as spies to learn how such an underdeveloped species had been able to anticipate and overcome the Conglomerate. ------- Lilith Shilva strode through the halls of the Terran base. She was an Ureti adviser assigned to the Terran assault frigate “Hammer of Texas”. In many ways she nearly passed off as human herself, were it not for her reverse jointed limbs and ten fingered hands. To those that paid her any mind they assumed she was solely focused on reading the information packet and moved on. It was so easy to cover her real intentions it was almost laughable. Lilith’s species had excellent peripheral vision with such clarity so even though her eyes were focused on the meaningless information packet she was really taking in everything else around her. Uniform symbols, response times, any technical device, etc. She was observing everything and yet despite being stationed here she was no closer to achieving her mission than when she started ten weeks ago. The lack of progress led Lilith to assume that somehow the humans had learned of her mission and were intentionally misleading her by covering their tracks. It’s what she would have done, but the sheer size of the mascaraed seemed unlikely. The entire crew of the ship along with support staff and troop detachments that had moved on and off would have to had to been on the play, and by Lilith’s count that would have been nearly 5,000 personnel. With so many people it was possible that one would let slip and reveal the game, yet none did. So lost in thought and observation Lilith failed to notice someone calling out her name until she felt an hand nudge her back to the present. “Lilith!” She turned and looked down at the human calling her and sighed. “Greetings attache Philip. Is there something I can help you with?” In truth she had no interest in helping the little man that had been assigned to her as a guide. She couldn’t put her fingers on why she disliked him, in truth he was polite and cordial. It might possibly be due to his starry eyed gaze he had whenever he was looking at her. He probably thought he could attempt to mate with her, a thought alone that nearly made her displace her stomach contents. “I was wondering if you cared to join me and some of the other crew members tonight for a get together?” Lilith couldn’t help but let out another sigh as once again attache Philip was inviting her. It seemed that ever since their posting together he tried to get her to further interact with him and the crew on a personal level. Because it did not advance her mission she had politely declined each time. “I apologize attache Philip, but I will be busy.” Philip appeared crest fallen once again. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” “Indeed, my apologizes once again but I must be going.” Lilith turned and resumed her walk. “It’s just that..” Philip said as he began walking beside her. “Jenkins from engineering got a care package from Terra that he’s been waiting for for weeks now and..” “I apologize again attache Philip but I have pressing work to be done.” She was in no mood to further entertain his ramblings and once again attempted to extradite herself. “I just remembered that you mentioned wanting to learn about human culture and Jenkins got a movie that’s a prime example of it.” Lilith stopped walking and turned around. “What is a “Movie”?” Philip perked up sensing a chance. “It’s a type of recording used for various purposes ranging from entertainment to training.” Training? Lilith paused to consider. It seemed these movies were crucial enough for human culture, possibly even used to pass along crucial information to a wide sect of the population. “On second though attache Philip,” she gazed at Philip “my work load can wait until tomorrow. I would be grateful to join you.” She then smiled at him. She was still unsure why showing her teeth seemed to trigger feelings of pleasantness for humans but it was a trait she picked up on. “Philip smiled back excitedly. “Great! Come down to the rec room on deck 7 bulkhead D around 8pm ship time. We already have food and drinks so you just need to bring yourself.” “I look forward to it.” -------------- Lilith approached the designated room Philip had mentioned and entered. The room appeared to be filled with people sitting on a variety of furniture such as chairs or “couches”. She gazed around for several seconds before spotting Philip who smiled and waved at her, motioning her over to him. As she got closer he moved over some opening more space. “I’m so happy you were able to make it in time!” He patted the spot next to him. “You got here just as the movie is about to start. I saved you a spot.” Faking a smile once more she nodded and took the space next to him. “My thanks attache Philip.” He laughed as if she had just spoken a joke. “You know you can just call me Philip. You don’t have to add my title in front of it every time.” Lilith was about to respond when a crew member stood up in front of the crowd and the crew members began cheering and clapping. “Right, my name’s Jenkins and I’m the sponsor of tonight’s movie night addition.” A further round of cheers and applause sprang up. “Enough of that. Let’s just get to the movie!” The lights went dark. Lilith tapped her head and activated the hidden recording device she had implanted. A projection device appeared from the ceiling and began displaying a picture. Words began slowly appearing from the darkness which spelled out “Independence Day”. ------- Two and a half hours later the lights came on and the crowd began shuffling out. Philip turned to look at Lilith. “So, what did you think?” Lilith remained frozen in place for several moments, still contemplating what she had just seen. The human species at a far earlier point in time with far less advanced technology defending their planet against a vastly superior enemy. And according to the time frame this was several hundred years old. “It was.......it was...” She couldn’t find the words. She had stumbled upon the secret to the human victory. This previous invasion several hundred years ago must have trained them well enough. Even the Ureti didn’t have the technology that the human’s enemies possessed in the film. “It was that good wasn’t it?” Philip asked. She didn’t fully understand how he could remark that it was fun watching millions of his own kind killed. “How did your planet recover after such devastation?” Philip cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand. Did you think that was real?” “Wait, it wasn’t?” Philips began laughing and Lilith felt insulted. She stood up suddenly and glared at him. His giggles slowly died down as he examined her expression. “Wait, you’re not joking?” You’re serious?” “Yes! How can you laugh at the slaughter of your own people!” “Lilith, I see now that there has been a misunderstanding. Everything you just saw was fake.” Lilith felt like she was being mocked again and continued to glare at him. “Really, it was! All special effects and actors.” Lilith could sense the serious tone in his voice which only made her more confused. “So....the destruction wasn’t real? None of it?” Philip motioned for her to sit back down which she did. “The people you saw were what we call “Actors” and the movie you watched was a..”, Philip struggled for a word she would understand, “ a scenario. Yes, a scenario of what could happen.” Lilith was slowly understanding it. This “film” as Philip had called it, was a military simulation of a scenario which had humanity outgunned and on the defensive. It was shaped as a form of entertainment so the larger population would watch it and unknowingly gain the necessary knowledge of what to do in such a situation. Lilith could not help but shudder as she realize that the Terran’s leaders had devised such a cunning method of training their entire population in military tactics. “Do you understand now?” Lilith was drawn back from her thoughts. “Yes, thank you for explaining it to me. I apologize for for my reaction over this misunderstanding.” She needed to leave at once and report back to command she had found the source of humanities advantage in the war. She would also need to acquire the film itself as evidence. “No worries Lilith, I understand it must seem pretty shocking for someone of a different culture.” They both stood up and began moving towards the door. “I hope you’ll join us again for the new film tomorrow.” Lilith stopped. “You mean there are more of these films?” “Oh yes!” Philip said, excitedly gazing at her again. She smiled back as it now appeared obtaining a copy would be far easier if there were several of them. “This one is called “Alien” and is a bit scarier so you can hold on to me if it gets too intense.” “Wait, you mean there are more than one of these films?” “Why of course.” “And each one tells a different scenario?” “Oh yes! If you want I have my own collection we can watch together if you’re interested.” Lilith smiled a real smile for the first time since she arrived on the human ship. “I would find it most enjoyable.” She remarked as they walked away, realizing that Philip would become a vital source of human training scenarios. ---------------------- + 5 months later Ureti command was feeling anxious. They had not received a report from operative Lilith in several dozen cycles now and feared that she had been discovered. The potential fall out ranged from discovery of the wider operation at large resulting in political backlash, to reigniting the war. So when a report from operative Lilith finally arrived most of the senior command breathed a sigh of relief and gathered to view it. “This is operative Lilith Shilva making report number 0240. I apologize for not responding sooner and will accept any punishment upon my return but first I wish to explain my actions for the delay. While stationed aboard the Assault Frigate Hammer of Texas I discovered a form of human training material that was being dispersed to the population as entertainment.” The senior commanders grumbled. Training material was nothing new to them. “I developed a relationship with my attache Philip and used him as a source to discover how in depth these training materials went. It seems for the last several hundred years human leaders have made military training scenarios into “Entertainment” for the public. These scenarios ranged from a full scale invasion to a single strike force infiltrating the planet. In the majority of the situations the human combatants are vastly outgunned both in numbers and technology. The initial fight is often lost forcing the remaining population to go to ground. From here humanity often is forced to come up with unorthodox tactics and methods to regain the initiative.” This slightly surprised the senior staff. The idea of facing a foe that was superior to themselves had never crossed their minds as most often they encountered primitive species. “These scenarios have been in circulation for several hundred years now and individual households even have collected different scenarios that they found the most “entertaining”. Entire groups have formed around certain selection to discuss and debate the scenario and devise better ways for survival had they been in them.” The command staff was now in shock at the sheer scale of tactical aspect humanity had applied. These films had turned the general population into strategists while masking it as if it was meant for enjoyment. Even those that did not become commanders in the Terran military would still have an understanding of tactics and strategies. Effectively they had turned themselves into and army of generals. “ My final assessment is that by placing repeated situations of inferiority and at a tactical disadvantage, human leaders have been trained to think of radical tactics that would otherwise not even be considered. They have been trained to use the unusual and at times crazy suicidal plans to overcome their enemy. What’s more it also has pointed out the flaws within the Ureti military. By constantly believing ourselves superior to all those around us we have narrowed our overall vision. We lack that creativity they posses and have become so assured of our superiority that we can not think outside of standard doctrine.” “At this time I am continuing my research into these films with my source who is actively providing them for me to watch provided we do so alone in his quarters. I will attempt to acquire as many copies as I can and pass them along back to you. With any luck we can learn from these and adapt ourselves for the coming wars.”

#humans are space oddities #humans are insane #alien #movies #story #film #humans are space orcs #scifi

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mmacabrera · 5 years

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Love tolls to build a home

[Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack + Gosalyn Mallard]

"The path it's closed, sir, at least that you pay the toll."

Launchpad yelped, firstly taken aback by Drake appearing out of nowhere in front of him in the hallway and blocking his path. But when he saw Drake smiling at him, his arms at every wall at his sides, balancing his weight from his heels to his toes and back again like he's just waiting for the right signal to just jump at him, Launchpad couldn’t help but chuckle at the silliness of it all. He balanced the big box he had and looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes that he only got with Drake.

"Babe, I have to put this in the bedroom," Launchpad tried to coax him, not because he didn't want to kiss him, but because the box in his arms was big enough to make it especially difficult.

Drake was undeterred and only smiled bigger. "My apologies, sir, you can't pass until you pay the toll. Those are the rules."

Launchpad thought for a moment, he was big enough, and he could simply pass around him if he proposed to do it. His mistake was looking back at his boyfriend’s face. Drake looked back at him, his eyelashes fluttering just a bit and his smile was handsome and overall him looking kinda silly and joyful made Launchpad fell for it all. Drake was just being happy, and that was enough for him.

Through pure love and sheer determination, he found the way to balance the box without having to put it down and bent, and the simple insinuation of it made Drake finally stood completely on his toes, his hands cradling his face and guiding him until they finally kissed.

It was a simple kiss but just as full of affection as any other they had given each other.

They separated with silly twin smiles on their faces but the feeling as if he hadn't kiss Drake for decades overpowered him and soon enough he was bending yet again, risking the balance of the box but receiving a happily surprised noise from Drake as compensation. He kissed him again, and again and again and again, and over and over until Drake just grabbed him and made him stay there for a long last kiss that left them both dizzy and a little desperate for something more.

"I hope, umm," it was hard to get his brain to work properly after all that, "that was enough to pay the toll?"

"Um?" Drake blinked, seemingly still dazed by the blur of kisses, it's Launchpad's laugh what seemed to finally get him out of it, and he let go of his boyfriend. "Oh! Oh, yes, I—"

He seemed completely embarrassed. "That was kinda dumb, wasn't it?"

Launchpad shook his head, eagerly, "No, not at all! It's surprising though."

"What? That I wanted to kiss you?"

"Nah, more like you not kissing me out of nowhere just because you want to."

Drake gasped, sounding offended but looking like he was about to burst out laughing. "Launchpad, are you saying I only kiss you impulsively like an animal? That I can't be romantic about it?"

Launchpad suddenly remembered something and derailed the point, confused. "Well, Dr. Gearloose says we're all technically animals—"

Drake gasped again, his eyes wide and then snorting. "Oh, I see, so I am an animal. You know what? No more kisses for you, mister."

"What? No, wait, babe!"

He immediately dropped the box, all the effort to not do exactly that going to hell just by seeing Drake walk away with his arms crossed. He snatched him up by the waist, Drake shrieking and laughing as he picked him up, pecking every little available space on his face. Drake was trying to push his face away from him, trying to look mad but failing miserably as he laughed, "Stop kissing me. You said I wasn't romantic and that I was an animal kissing you like some egotistical maniac so let me go!"

"Draaaaaakeeee, don't be petty. I didn't say that!"

"Too bad because that's what I hear."

"Because you said it."

"Watch out, Mr. McQuack. You're losing your boyfriend points."

Launchpad groaned, smiling against the hand Drake used to keep him at bay. Drake could be either exasperating or cute with his pettiness, but it seemed he could be both too.

"But how could I say that to the most romantic, gorgeous, amazing boyfriend in the world that is definitely not an egotistical maniac?"

"So I'm romantic, gorgeous and amazing now?"

"You have always been."

That definitely rang a bell, if Drake's growing and pleased smile was anything to get by. He kissed him then, a little peck to test the waters, and when Drake didn't reject it, he asked him: "Am I forgiven?"

"Yes— barely," Drake answered with a silly smile.

Launchpad smiled at that, and a question popped out suddenly. "Why so silly?"

Drake hummed, his hands playing nervously with his hair, a shy smile grazing his face.

"I dunno? I'm just happy, I guess? We're— we're moving in together to a house, of all things, and as I was setting up the kitchen, it suddenly hit me that I love you and I wanted to kiss you? Like a whole lot."

Launchpad felt his heart about to burst out with that simple, shy confession. And it did, in the form of crushing Drake between his arms in a bear hug.

"Drake! I love you so much!"

Drake groaned, "oh my God, then don't kill me!"

Launchpad laughed, letting him go and giving him a peck. "You know what I wanna do to my amazing, gorgeous and romantic boyfriend?"

Drake snorted, "what might that be?"

"Smooch his face."

Drake snorted even harder, trying not to let his ugly laugh overtake him. "Oh, what a lucky guy, then."

Launchpad took that as a yes, closing his eyes and puckering his lips, leaning to kiss him only to be met with air and a giggle, the space in front of him suddenly empty when he opened his eyes. He turned around, confused, only to see Drake smiling cheekily at him.

"Buuuut this guy has to finish setting up the kitchen and you have to set up the bedroom and we can't be distracted because this has to look perfect by tomorrow."

"What? Babe—."

"Good luck setting up the bedroom, honey."

"Drake, really—."

"I love you!"

Now, what was he supposed to say after that? He thought, seeing Drake going away with an enamored smile.

They might be just moving in together at the moment, but as he watched Drake going downstairs, humming the Darkwing Duck intro song with a satisfied smile, he couldn’t help but think they were building something that was so much more.

Drake's silliness from that morning might be contagious because when they were in the kitchen and he saw Drake doing the dishes from their dinner, he felt the unavoidable impulse to hug Drake from behind and ask: "dance with me."

Drake turned his head around, surprised. "Dance with you? Wait, right now?"

Launchpad nodded eagerly and Drake snorted skeptical, going back to his task. "Sure, when I finish this."

"Nope, right now."

"Launchpad, please, I'm doing— wait, what are you—? LAUNCHPAD, LET ME GO." Launchpad had jailed him with his arms, not letting him do anything. Drake squirmed, trying frustratingly to push Launchpad away but only getting more into his constricting hug as a result. Drake stopped, mad, looking at him with a frown. "Launchpad, let me go."

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Mallard, but I can't do that. You have been jailed for dance crimes."

"Dance crim—" Drake couldn't even finish saying it, a snort immediately getting out of him, finally smiling. "Is this payback for this morning?"

"Maaaaybe."

Drake huffed at that and started to move again, trying to get him off of him.

"Dance with me, please, my love," Launchpad asked again, much softer than the first time, nuzzling his head and rocking him slowly in his arms. Drake hummed at that, weak as he was to Launchpad's traitorous "my love", and stopped resisting, going pliant against him.

"Ok," he accepted and turned around to pass his arms around his neck, his hands were still wet and soapy from the dishes but Launchpad couldn't care less. "Fine, LP. You win. What song are we gonna dance?"

"Uuuuuh."

"You didn't think about it, did you?"

"Nope," he admitted, making Drake roll his eyes with an affectionate smile. He let go of Drake to look for his phone while Drake dried his hands. "But!"

"But?" Drake asked, reclined on the counter now, watching Launchpad use his phone intently.

"I do have the perfect song." His eyes twinkled suddenly and with a mischievous smile, he looked back at him, extending one of his hands to him in a gentlemanly manner, while the other held his phone.

"May I have this dance, Mr. Mallard?"

Drake tried to muffle his giggle behind his hand, charmed to the bone by this gentle giant that he loved to pieces. "I would love to, Mr. McQuack."

He took his hand, letting Launchpad pull him against his chest, heart fluttering as he put Drake's arms around his waist. Launchpad left the phone at the counter, his own arms coming to Drake's waist. Drake's curiosity grew as he saw the phone loading something.

"What song did you—?"

And then the first notes of it started to play and Drake didn't think he couldn't be more in love than he already was but boy was he wrong, his head falling into Launchpad's chest and smiling without a care in the world as his boyfriend started to lead him in their improvised dance.

It was a slowed, piano version of the Darkwing Duck ending theme, beautifully arranged but it had a homemade recording sound to it and if Drake guessed correctly, there was only one person in his near vicinity capable of that.

"Did you do it?"

Launchpad kissed the top of his head, he sounded strangely both nervous and proud when he answered: "yeah, I— I kinda learned to play the piano just to do it."

Drake looked up at him, eyes brightening with admiration. "Yeah?"

Launchpad seemed to blush under it, Drake could tell he was hesitantly unraveling in the untold praise, he wanted to impress him and Drake be dammed if he wasn't going to let him. "Uh, yeah, and the sax, and the guitar, and umm, a lot of other instruments."

"Launchpad," he whispered with admiration, moving his hands to hold his face between them, " you're so amazing. That's the greatest thing I have ever heard. How come you never put it out there?"

"Well, it was only for Darkwing—."

"Extremely valid reason, it's amazing."

Launchpad laughed, sounding very excited all of a sudden, "I know, but I discovered pretty earlier in my childhood that not everyone would see it as you do and I wanted—" and his arms tightened around him— "to show it to someone I loved and that loved me in return, I guess. I wanted it to be only for someone that would appreciate it as much as I do and I— I'm glad that's you."

If Drake's heart went faster, it was going to jump out of his chest, of that he was sure. He hugged Launchpad as tight as he could, and kissed him immediately, not knowing how else to show him how much that meant to him. Inside his mind, he thanked whatever pushed Launchpad to stop him mid-task to dance, maybe he never would have had this moment if it wasn't for that.

"I love you," he whispered against his beak, feeling Launchpad's smile growing.

He didn't answer immediately, but he did take one of Drake's hand and made him twirl around a few times with the song, making Drake giggle in the process, and when the twirling ended and he had Drake with his back at his chest, tucked almost perfectly in his arms, he said: "and I love you."

Drake sighed, feeling drunk in love, slowly moving at the song's rhythm, Launchpad nuzzling his temple and whispering promises of love.

Right there in Launchpad's arms, he wondered silently if they could stay like that forever, just dancing slowly for years to come without an ounce of fear of the song ending at some point. He wondered if the future held them both, or if it saw him alone yet again, talking to empty spaces and with no sleep as his only company. When was the last time he thought he had someone to come back to, to rest with, to greet at the door?

When was the last time he thought he had a home?

He had never had a home before, was the ugly answer.

It scared him somehow, that if the song ended, Launchpad may stop holding him. That this space may not hold the love he wanted to store in it and let it escape somewhere he couldn't follow.

But as the song ended and Launchpad's arms stayed where they were, even tightening, Launchpad hiding his face in the crook of Drake's neck and leaving kisses in his feathers, Drake realized that whatever was to come would be better than this, with Launchpad at his side and a home to come to.

"Can I do the dishes now?" He asked with literally no intention of abandoning the warm of Launchpad's arms.

Thank God Launchpad knew him and only laughed while hugging him tighter.

It became some sort of established rule, the tolls, and the kisses and the unprompted slow dancing. Launchpad used his size to his advantage most of the time, filling whole door frames and asking for hugs and kisses and a date that one time. Drake became pettier the more hungry for affection he was, more than one time refusing to help Launchpad as he repaired the Thunderquack or to pass him an ingredient he needed while he cooked if he didn't "pay for it".

"It will cost you, but I can't be easily bribed, mister."

"But I don't have any money, sir."

"Well, we can always arrange that, Mr. McQuack."

And he would tip his beak with a mischievous smile and Launchpad immediately would give in like the weak man he was.

They weren't going to lie, they burned more food than they should have thanks to that. Or got late to somewhere really important, or simply forgot whatever they were doing at the moment.

Worth it, they always thought, still making out in the middle of the hallway for the third time of the day.

The walls and the doors and the floor kept growing with them, some warm building on the frame of the doors, some strange comfort under the lights of the living room. There was not a space where the passing thought of home didn't cling at their hearts.

To theirs, and another that would become theirs.

"My orders are to not let you pass, Gosaroonie!"

"Pops!" came the whine, she tried to dodge him but Launchpad's whole body was impossible to go through and escape to her room. Her room. The room these two people had given to her because now she was their daughter. And as amazing as that was, they were both so...

"Gosalyn Mallard-McQuack, you are prohibited to pass from this point until you pay the toll. And it's higher now, don't you know how is the economy these days?"

Embarrassingly full of love.

She turned around, looking at her dad with a frown, pouting angrily as he had betrayed her. Drake snorted at her expression, but he didn't move, crossing his arms undeterred. Launchpad laughed cheekily at that, still blocking the way with his body.

Gosalyn analyzed the situation, she was stubborn and too full of energy to be subdued. If passing through Pops was virtually impossible, then she only had other option.

She narrowed her eyes, looking directly into her dad's eyes. Her dad looked back just with the same spirited energy, uncrossing his arms and preparing himself like in a fight, and then Gos charged with a scream, decided to fight back.

Only to be caught in the air by two big hands, letting out an embarrassed high-pitched squeak.

"I caught her, dad!"

"Excellent, pops! Let's bring her to tickle jail!"

"Wait, no! No tickle jail!"

"Sorry, milady. If you don't pay the toll, you go to tickle jail."

"Wait, you two—AH!" Gosalyn screamed only to start laughing wildly, squirming in her pops' hands and trying futilely to get her dad's fingers to stop their attack. She didn't give up until actual tears threatened to spill thanks to the laughing attack.

"Ok, ok! Stop!" Drake stopped, a triumphant smile on his face. "I will kiss you, affection-hungry monsters."

Drake and Launchpad giggled at that. Gosalyn groaned as it took her an immeasurable amount of effort to simply cup her dads' cheeks in her hands, one in each hand. She kissed them, one after the other, even making an exaggerated sound to amuse them and then she hugged them as hard as she could, maybe harder than necessary only to get back at them. They didn't even seem to notice, hugging her back with just as much love as ever.

She didn't seem to notice either, how easier it was to just keep hugging them, not even a bit of uncomfortableness as the hug prolonged. It dawned on her suddenly, that it had always been like that.

How, even when she was alone, it was so easy to forget it when love seemed to pour from the walls of the house. It only took a step into the house, even the day when they finally adopted her, to feel good, and happy and comforted. The sofa felt extremely good to sleep on, and the food tasted better than in a restaurant (even if burned).

How there was always a laugh, a hug, a kiss to give under the roof of that house. How every place in the house was a perfect dance floor if Launchpad had anything to say about it. Or to put a love toll on, if Drake had anything to say about it.

It dawned on her that it wasn't a house, it had never been.

It was home. It was their home. It was her home too.

She didn't notice her silence, worrying them.

"Sweetheart?" Drake asked suddenly, his hand going to caress her hair softly.

Launchpad did the same on her back, just as worried. "Hey, princess, you okay?"

Gosalyn nodded to them, she stopped hugging them but kept her hands on their shoulders. "Do you know you're really embarrassing?"

Launchpad snorted and nodded. Drake raised a brow, incredulous at that, but nodded nonetheless.

"And do you know—" and her voice came more soft, more shy, she couldn't even see them in the face— "that I love you a lot? And this home, it's— it's lovely. Wait, no, that sounded cheesy like dad. Ugh. What I mean is that—" Gosalyn took a sigh, Drake gave her time, Launchpad was already crying. "Thanks. For letting me into your lives, into this home."

Launchpad sobbed immediately as Drake kissed her forehead and pulled her into his arms, then they both got pulled into Launchpad's arms, the bigger man weeping and crying over them. She couldn't help but laugh at them, wetly as happy tears streamed down her face. Tears she would deny later, but that she accepted for the moment.

"Gosalyn, look at me," she did, Drake holding her face between his hands like she was the most precious thing.

"Gosalyn, I— we—" he looked at Launchpad for a moment with an enamored smile, the other man nodding, still drying his tears— "are the ones that should be thanking you for letting us into your life, do you know that? You're wonderful, honey, we love you. This home isn't complete if you're not here."

"Yeah," Launchpad finally looked in a better state, "it has been like, we have been building this home for you, like only for you, like it is—"

Drake gasped suddenly, "Destiny!"

"Yes, exactly!" Launchpad looked at him like he wanted to marry him right then and there. Again. For the fifth time in the day.

Gosalyn almost gagged. Again. For the fifth time in the day. "Ugh, you're so embarrassing."

Launchpad laughed and sang, "embarrassments that you love~"

"I retract!"

Drake snorted, "you can't!"

As they pulled her again into a constricting hug, and as much as she complained about it, nothing was further from her mind than the notion of retracting her words.

They, with their sudden slow dances when they cleaned, and their love tolls in the bathroom of all places, they were her home. And she would never deny it, not even to herself.

#drakepad #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #darkwing duck #toddy writes

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takerfoxx · 5 years

Text

Right, okay, let’s talk about Maleficent: Mistress of Evil.

Oh boy, do I have a lot to unpack here. And, uh, content warning for discussion of rape and genocide.

Right, let’s start with my thoughts on the first one. Overall, I liked it a whole lot, but mostly I’m astounded that it got the go-ahead in the first place. I mean, a bizarre subversive take on Sleeping Beauty of all things that recasts Disney’s most iconic villain as a sort of anti-hero with a heavy feminist slant that had a blatantly unsubtle rape metaphor as its centerpiece? It should have been a trainwreck! Hell, it almost was a trainwreck, one that threatened to jump the tracks the entire runtime! It shouldn’t have worked, it almost didn’t work...but it still did.

Part of that was just how committed everyone involved was to its own mad premise. Say what you want about the idea, but it was ballsy as hell, and it totally went all in with...everything. I mean, you kind of have to just to make something like this work, as any kind of drawback or halfass would’ve caused the whole thing to come crashing down, so the only chance you’ve got is to point the whole endeavor straight at that brick wall and slam your foot down on the ignition. And it went in deep, recontextualizing King Steffen as a paranoid, manipulative, power-hungry madman; the three fairies as total dolts; Prince Philip, someone who might seem dull in comparison to later princes like Aladdin, Eric, or the Beast, but was still the most proactive prince Disney had at that point, as kind of a duffer whom Maleficent had to literally drag along on his own quest and who was understandably squeamish about kissing an unconscious girl against her will; Daival as a dashing sidekick; and completely flips the Maleficent/Aurora relationship on its head. That’s the sort of thing you see in those What If? fanfics that you tend to obsess over in highschool, and it comes packing all of the raw emotion of one of those fics, and because of that it pulls its own crazy premise off. Yes, it was flawed. Yes, there were things that didn’t work. But they almost don’t matter in light of just how impressive it was that they managed to pull something this audacious off.

And as for the rape metaphor...actually, scratch that. Let’s call a spade a spade, okay? It wasn’t a metaphor, that was straight up a rape. Maybe it wasn’t sexual, but what a lot of people forget is that rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power. It’s about dominating another person to take their power away so that the aggressor can feel powerful, and that’s how it was played, and they committed to showing it in all of its ugliness. I mean, holy shit that takes balls.

But the bulk of the reason why it worked was because of Angelina Jolie.

I mean, what an absolutely mesmerizing performance! The OG Maleficent was so memorable in part because everyone else in that movie kind of...wasn’t, but also because she was super cool and super badass and totally in love with being THAT BITCH! And Angelina Jolie absolutely owns that role.

I mean, she is Maleficent. She just took a DNA test, and I don’t need to tell you what the results are. She embodied all of that iconic character’s regal majesty, menace, cruelty, confidence, and knowing that she was the badass bitch to ever vamp about in a long black gown with a bitching pimp staff just ready to show up uninvited and wreak some unholy vengeance, and then some. There is no longer any need to wonder where your god is, because she is right there, and she is all out of mercy.

But then she goes and gives actual depth to a really awesome but still kind of one note character, from the young innocence before she was betrayed to genuinely bonding with young Aurora to her desperate heartbreak over being unable to break her own curse to actual fear when it seems that the mad king has finally got her to...well, the agony of betrayal when she wakes up and fully realizes what Steffen has done to her. That’s a wide range of emotions to have to portray in a character only known for being smirkingly evil or ragingly evil, but she goes in hard, and basically holds the whole haphazard production together through the sheer gravitational pull of her performance.

So when they announced a sequel, I was intrigued. In fact, I was hoping for another totally insane, probably a bad idea production that just goes HAM on whatever crazy topical stuff it wants to talk about with Angelina Jolie just owning everything she touches.

But what it turned out to be...

Sigh.

Okay.

Let’s do this.

All right, I won’t go into specific plot details until I reach the spoiler cut, because they’re not really important. What I want to get across is the first third of this movie, it really had me. It was good! It had everything I liked about the first one. Different situation, sure, but we had Maleficent being Maleficent and bouncing off other characters, both old and new, and it was good.

Then the second third rolled around, and things started to come apart. I mean, it didn’t totally lose me or anything, there was a lot of good stuff, we learn a lot of cool lore, there’s a kickass Zootopia-type place we visit with a whole bunch of biomes, and I was generally okay with how things were, assuming that they could stick the landing. But the big problem here was that there was a whole lot less of Maleficent. Oh, she was there, sure, but she wasn’t really...doing much, mostly just walking around while some other character explained exposition to her, to which she barely even reacts, so we’re left with Aurora and Philip and Michelle Pfieffer as the new evil queen to do all the heavy lifting. And they do an admirable job of it I suppose (though the lack of romantic chemistry between Aurora and Philip was really noticeable here), but this part was seriously missing Angelina Jolie’s overwhelming presence that the first movie had, so the seams started to show.

And then we get to the third act, and that’s where it all fell apart for me. So, I guess it’s spoiler time.

Long story short, the main plot is that Prince Philip’s mom is evil and is trying to arrange for the total genocide of all of Maleficent’s fairy subjects in the Moors so that the humans can take over. And she does this by first poisoning the king with the same curse Aurora was originally under and blaming it on Maleficent (okay, that works), have Maleficent sniped when she tries to flee with an iron bullet (makes sense), come up with a special iron/magic flower compound that is fatal to fairies (good so far), and luring the Moors inhabitants in with the promise of being wedding guests, locking them in the cathedral, and dousing them with this fairy killing dust. And just in case, she also has the entire castle barricaded and guarded with a whole bunch of fairy killing dust weapons and traps.

You know what? For an evil plot, she really worked out most of the contingencies, and it nearly succeeds, though the question must be asked of why the Moors inhabitants just stroll right in after their guardian just straight up disappears after doing the same thing. But anyway, she gets as far as actually locking up all the fairies and pelting them with the killer dust.

But then the castle is attacked. See, all through the second act, Maleficent is rescued by the rest of her people, the Dark Fae, and it turns out that they’ve slowly been forced by humans to retreat to a single sanctuary, but they’re ready to reclaim their homelands by force, and after seeing her people’s sacred burial grounds defiled and the Dark Fae that saved her assassinated by humans, Maleficent is feeling pretty okay with that. In fact, the warmonger Dark Fae that’s all for violence and who leads the attacks makes a point that Maleficent has powers that not even they possess and could be their secret weapon. I mean, just have her show up and be all Mistress of Evil. Makes sense, right?

Buuuuuuut, then they attack the humans and...just sort of leave her behind? Like, she just stays with the dying dude who sacrificed himself to save her and was the one espousing a peaceful solution, and no one bothers to try to get her to come along despite her having every reason to kick all sorts of ass? Like, they have the forest magic going for them, sure, but she’s packing that green fire of I WIN, YOU LOSE, and they just...don’t take her with them?

Huh?

And as predicted, the humans unleash all their killer dust bombs and killer dust missiles and just massacre the Dark Fae. We see several of them just get slaughtered on screen, and meanwhile we also watch the Moor fairies also getting massacred in what amounts to a fucking GAS CHAMBER, complete with several of them straight up dying on screen, including one of the three fairies! No, I’m being serious, they straight up kill the Blue Fairy!

But then Maleficent shows up fashionably late, green fires all the humans into submission, has her big faceoff with the queen, there’s a bunch of stuff with Aurora and Philip trying to get everyone to stop fighting, there’s a big fakeout GOTCHA with Maleficent dying to save Aurora but coming back because I guess she’s the Phoenix or something, then the queen gets captured and turned into a goat and everyone’s friends now so they all get together and let Aurora and Philip have their wedding because the power of love wins in the end!

...

wat.

Okay, so there is something to be said for the letting peace and understanding win out and refusing to continue the cycle of violence, but, um, wasn’t there, you know, A FUCKING GENOCIDE HAPPENING NOT TOO LONG AGO? And by not too long ago, I mean literally five minutes? We see Dark Fae and Moor fairies dying en mass! And they don’t come back! I mean, there’s a sly hint that the Blue Fairy lives on as a flower or something, but that’s not really elaborated on, and we literally see a whole bunch of people get massacred! But now we’re just going to have a wedding right over everyone’s conveniently bloodless corpses and everyone’s just fine with it? And the evil queen that arranged this whole slaughter gets humorously turned into a goat and everyone laughs at in, including the recovered king (because apparently to break the curse for good all you needed was to destroy the original spindle, so I guess so much for that touching retelling of True Love’s Kiss from the first movie! Totally unnecessary now!) who just says something like, “I’m sure Maleficent will turn her back...assuming we want her to.” And then he just makes a face as if the queen was just a nagging harpy that was hard to put up with and not a literally murderous despot who tried to assassinate you and bring your kingdom to total war by eradicating the neighbors you were trying so hard to work out a peace with!

No. Fuck that, no! That is bullshit! Choose a path and fucking commit! That’s what the first movie did! It decided it was going to sneak a fucking rape scene into a Disney movie that was to be seen by a lot of little girls, and it went all in, up to and including never blaming Maleficent for wanting to take vengeance and putting all of the blame on Steffen, so it worked! If you’re going to stick in a fucking genocide, then you better show the horrific aftereffects of that genocide, not a weaksauce power of love, everyone’s friends now ending! And make the despising of the queen actually mean something, not just a humorous slapstick humiliation!

Fucking hell, what were they thinking?

#maleficent #maleficent: mistress of evil #rant #rape cw #genocide cw #disney #angelina jolie #spoilers

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

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I had hoped to finish in the chapter, but it was already running too long and there’s still so much that needs to get done, so I have to break it up. But the end is nye! (Of this installment of the series. The series itself is barely just begun.)

Adora and her party arrive in the Crimson Wastes.

Catra and Hordak face off.

We get another flashback and Hordak sees Hode one last time (you won’t like it), and Hordak also meets another very important person in the Master of the Universe canon.

Adora’s party reaches Mara’s ship just as Catra is coming out from her fight with Hordak and... Entrapta does not react well...

...

It was evening by the time they reached the mainland. The Glow Moon dipping down low over the waters behind them.

Everyone was ready to get of the overcrowded ship. They didn’t even wait for Sea Hawk to tie off the boat. The moment the Dragon’s Daughter Five pulled close enough to the dock for her passengers to jump off, they did.

With everyone already disembarked, the pirate stopped mid-knot and re-cast off instead. “Whelp, guess Micah and I will just be off the Brightmoon then.”

The long lost King looked impatient and excited. He wanted to get home to his daughter.

For half a second, Sea Hawk looked like he was about to offer to go with Adora and Bow. But Micah flashed him a look that made the sailor pause. The King wanted to get home, and it wasn’t like Sea Hawk would be particularly useful in a dessert where there was no ocean, or on a ship that did not sail on seas. Besides, there were so many going already. Adora, Bow, Entrapta, Entrapta’s strange Hordak-clone baby, Scorpia, and all of their animal/robot companions; Swift Wind, Emily, and Imp. The combination of powers and talents wasn’t quite as balanced as the Princess Alliance team, but there was enough raw power and competence there to make up for it –also, She-Ra.

So, Sea Hawk concluded he was not needed. He would take Micah home, as was the original plan.

Adora and her party pressed on to the Crimson Waists, traveling across the landscape in the dark as the Glow Moon dipped lower behind them and night gathered. The bioluminescent glow of Dak’s eyes grew brighter as the evening grew darker.

It was full-dark by the time they reached the desert’s edge, and a little bit longer after that before they reached the cantina when Adora and Bow first met Huntara.

To spite the late hour, the bar was still crowded and roaring with noise. A few patrons looked up with the party entered, but they recognized Adora, Bow, and Scorpia, and very quickly went back to their drinks. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of any of them.

Adora marched right up to the bartender. “Has Catra been back here?”

“The small angry cat-girl I came with last time.” Scorpia clarified when the bartender looked momentarily confused.

There was another moment’s pause as the woman managed to process what these two frantic outsiders were trying to ask her. “Everyone in the Crimson Waste knows who Boss Catra is.” She informed Scorpia. “She passed through here earlier in the month.”

“Was she heading to Mara’s ship!?” Adora pressed.

“I don’t know what that is.” The bartender admitted. “Now, either buy a drink, tell me what happened to Huntara, or get out.”

While this conversation was going on, Dak had been eyes some of the drinks the patrons already had. They all smelled so interesting, and the people drinking them seemed to be enjoying themselves. “Can I try one of the ones with the froth on top?”

“No.” Both Scorpia and Bow choired with one voice.

“You’re too young for beer.” Scorpia informed them.

“I tried wine for the first time a couple weeks ago.” Bow added. “Wine is supposed to be one of the better tasting alcoholic drinks ‘cause it’s made from fruit. It still tasted bad. Trust me, kiddo, you don’t want to drink alcohol.”

Imp gave a squawk of agreement. Wine and other alcoholic beverages were for older Horde clones whom were non-hybrids and knew their limits. The little deamon helped Bow and Scorpia usher the child outside. They waited with Swift Wind and Emily for Adora. She finally came out, having to drag Entrapta by the elbow.

“…but I just thought she should know the alcohol percentages she was advertising were inaccurate.” The scientist was saying. “Watering down the drinks is fine, and probably healthier for her patrons in the long run, but that alters the ratios within the drink. She’s displaying inaccurate data!”

“We’re going to see a First Ones ship.” Adora reminded her. “Won’t that be much more interesting than watered down beer?”

That was the whole reason Entrapta came with them to the Crimson Waste after all.

They pressed on.

They reached Mara’s ship just as the Glow Moon was peeking out over the horizon. They traveled until the end of the night.

…

“Hey, Hordak.”

He was prepared for her return, but it still made his skin crawl when she said that.

He was standing. At a military rest. Arms clasped behind his back. A pose he assumed often, so it did not seem out of the ordinary now. There was no reason for Catra to assume he might be hiding makeshift weapons behind his back.

“It’s moonrise outside.” She announced. “End of the night, your time’s up.”

That statement required no response. Hordak did not give one, and Catra was not interested in one.

“Have you managed to retrieve the rest of the other She-Ra’s message?” Catra asked this already knowing the answer. If he couldn’t do it in a month, there was no reason to think he could magically pull out results in twenty-four hours. He hadn’t done it. Which meant that Hordak spent this time doing something else. Catra was many things, but foolish was not one of them. She was expecting some kind of a double cross.

“I have not.” Hordak stated flatly.

Loath though he was to admit it –even to himself- Hordak could be foolish from time to time. He was a fool to let Entrapta get so close, he was a fool to trust the natives of this world –even as nothing more than subordinates, and he was a fool to underestimate Catra. He would not make that last mistake twice. The Force Captain had proven herself equal parts capable, devious, and wildly intelligent more than once. Hordak knew, that she would know, that he had done something else with the time she gave him and expect a retaliation of some kind. His fingers curled around the bat-wing shaped throwing rangs held behind his back.

It had been years since he practiced with them, and these weren’t even real rangs. The shape was the same, so their aerodynamics should be similar. But the weight and balance was different. His throws might still be off. But they were the only weapons he had since there were no spears or pikes on this ship, and an arm-mounted canon was not something easily cobbled together from alien parts.

Hordak straightened. “So, what shall it be then?” He asked. “A public execution in front of the rabble you’ve collected into a following here in the Wastes? Or just a private killing? Quick and simple.”

Catra snorted at the sheer casualness he took to the idea of his immanent death –not that she was yet sure if death was the punishment she wanted for Hordak. At the moment, some kind of discipline for failure was necessary –just like he did to her when their roles were reversed- but said disciplinary action need not be as final as a death sentence.

“You’re in a hurry.” She commented with a bit of a chuckle. “What, is there someone you need to meet on the other side?”

Opening his mouth, Hordak was about to respond that there was no one –dead or alive- that he particularly cared to see again. Except, the image of Entrapta flash through his mind. While he did not believe she was dead, he did still very much want to see her again. For revenge, obviously. And if he were rendered too infirm by whatever Catra did to him to exact said revenge, then at the very least, to demand an explanation for her betrayal. So, there was someone –alive, not dead- that he cared very much to see again.

Right on the heels of the image of Entrapta, was the memory of Hode. Dark cape sweeping in dramatic folds, hood pulled up over his head, partially turned so that all Hordak could see was the lower half of the older clone’s face. ‘Yes, Zero-Zero-Three, I am.’ Hode’s retreating back after he demoted and abandoned him on a random world within a larger Empire. That was the last time Hordak ever saw his mentor. He never got the chance to ask the old man ‘why?’ either. To demand an explanation from him.

In a glittering moment of horrifying clarity, Hordak realized, there was someone on the other side he wanted to meet again. Almost as much as he wanted to meet Entrapta again.

And for the same reason, too.

Why? Why did you do that to me!? I thought I was special to you!

Hordak stood there. Frozen.

Catra raised an eyebrow at him. Tilting her head to the side, her lips stretched into a taunting smile. “Aw… did I hit a nerve? Is there someone you wanna see on the other side? Some little Horde Mommy you never met, or maby Daddy that never loved you.”

“Horde clones have no parents.” Hordak informed her, suddenly being reminded that he never actually took the time to read her in on Horde Prime or what he was actually trying to do with the portal. She thought he was trying to reconnect with his separated unit and bring more Horde forces to Etheria. Catra didn’t realize that, originally, Hordak just wanted to go home. She didn’t know his history like Entrapta did. She didn’t know he was a clone, and she certainly didn’t know about Emperor Prime.

Her expression turned suddenly sharp. “Neither do Etherian Horde soldiers.”

Neither of them had moved, but Hordak felt a shift in the mood of the room. Like he was suddenly no longer standing on stable ground. One misstep and he would fall at her mercy.

“Spare me your ‘oh woe is me’ speech, Force Captain.” He began. “Civilian casualties happen in war just as often as soldier deaths. Do not try and lay your anonymous parents’ lives at my feet, as your precious Adora tried to. I have never known any of the parents of the orphans raised in the Fright Zone.” He left out the part that he never cared either, that was definitely a misstep. “You may direct your complaints for your troubled childhood to Shadow Weaver.”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. She thought this was just gonna be a little light intimidation and a reminder of who was in charge of this new power dynamic of thiers. But he pushed both the Adora button, and the Shadow Weaver button at the same time. He shouldn’t have done that. Catra’s eyes went wide as her pupils went smalls. Glaring up at him. How dare he try and tell her who she should and should not be upset at for her bad life. Everyone in her life contributed to her suffering. Not just Adora leaving her, and Shadow Weaver using and manipulating her. Scorpia siding with Entrapta over her. Entrapta changing sides again and refusing got open the portal. Kyle for his constant incompetence, and Lonnie and Rogelio for always covering for him. And Hordak, for just existing in the first place. For bringing the Horde to Etheria. For creating the world she lived in. The world that shaped her and made her what she was. Most of all Hordak.

How dare he.

“You’re right.” She informed him. Voice calm and even. Deceptively so. On the inside, Catra was anything but calm. “You probably didn’t know my parents. You probably never even saw their faces, never mind learned their names. You weren’t the one who orphaned me, or brought me to the Fright Zone to be raised. You probably don’t even care.”

He didn’t.

She reached a hand up. Instinctively Hordak shied away, stepping back from the touch. Catra’s claws traced the outline of the crystal on his exo-suit without actually touching it. She couldn’t read the First Ones letters that were inscribed on it, but she understood its significance. Entrapta loved her first Ones tech. She would not give it away to just anyone.

“But there is a person on Etheria you do care about.” She announced.

Shifting the rangs he still held behind his back, Hordak freed one of his hands to place it protectively over the crystal. “You are mistaken Force Captain. Princess Entrapta was a useful tool at one time. Since her betrayal, my only desire for her, is to see that she is adequately punished.”

Catra laughed at that. A mirthless, rueful laugh. One full of malice and scorn. “Wow, you really are so gullible.”

“What?” He blinked glowing ruby eyes at her, not understanding.

She grinned a wicked grin at him, a smile without humor. “I told you Entrapta betrayed you, and you believed me. You didn’t even question it.”

“What!?” His glowing eyes went wide at that statement.

“I guess you must not think much of her.” Continued Catra, crossing her arms over her chest. The action was casual. As if this were just an easy conversation between friends. Her tone was matter-of-fact when she spoke. “To just accept that she would stab you in the back, after all those months you spent holed-up in the Sanctum together. I guess you two weren’t all that close after all, and this new armor doesn’t really mean anything either. It’s only Entrapta’s precious First Ones tech she had us drag all the way from her mines in Dryl.”

Hand still resting on the crystal, Hordak’s fingers clenched, his talons scraping the hard shell of the exo-suit. “What- what are you saying?” His hands were shaking. Not just the one over the crystal, the one behind his back too. It threatened to drop the makeshift rangs we was holding. “If Entrapta did not betray me, then how did the Princesses get in?” He shook his head. “It does not make sense!”

Catra laughed again. “You may direct your complaints for Princesses in the Fright Zone to Shadow Weaver.” She flashed sharp feline teeth. “She and Sparkled teamed up, made each other stronger somehow –more powerful- that was how the Princesses got in.”

All this time… he’d been hating her… for something she didn’t do.

But…?

“If Entrapta was innocent in this, then where was she?” Hordak demanded. “Where is she now? Where is Entrapta!?”

Before he was even aware that he was moving, Hordak surged forward to try and grab Catra. The hand that had been covering the crystal reaching out, fingers spread, talons extended. He snarled a wordless snarl.

Catra seemed unconcerned. She jumped into the air, doing an unnecessary summersault mid-air, and landing on the console behind Hordak.

“Probably dead by now.” Admitted the cat-girl, there was the slightest hint of regret in her voice. Entrapta had been very useful to her in the beginning. But while there was regret, Catra did not betray even a hint of remorse. She felt no guilt for what she did. Entrapta always frustrated her to her wits’ end. They were not friends. That was fine. Catra didn’t need friends. “I sent her to Beast Island.”

“You- What-!?”

Hordak’s vision blanked for a half a moment. His breathing hard, as if he’d just run the endurance course, but all he’d done was stand there talking to Catra. His nasal cavity flared as his senses sharpened, narrowing in on Catra. His hindbrain no longer reading her as ‘subordinate’ or ‘ally’ and seeing only ‘enemy’. He experienced a feeling Hordak previously only thought could be felt in the thick of battle, when the air was filled with the sound of screams and the spray of shit and blood.

The killing edge.

In the space of a second. With only a single statement, Catra had driven him to the killing edge.

He wasn’t even aware he’d thrown the rangs in his hand until Catra was jumping off the console to dodge them. The wing shaped blades impaled themselves in the crystal keys of the panel, causing the machine to spark and wine in protest.

The already dimly lit bridge of the First Ones ship blinked warning lights before going even darker.

His eyes glowed even bright in the darkness. Two smoldering coals of crimson, searching the shadows, seeking the enemy he needed to destroy.

He sniffed the air, primal instincts buried by programming pushing their way to the surface.

But Catra could also see in the dark, and her primal instincts had never been suppressed or buried like his. With a deep and throaty growl, she pounced on the taller being. Claws slashing at his face and his throat. Blood trickled from the gashes in his face and trickled into his eyes.

The clone struggled to shake her off him. His own talons finding her sides where her kidneys should be. But Catra was wearing a Horde issued unitard, over thick fur. While his sharp talons did succeed in breaking the fabric, and cutting through the fur, he only succeeded in making shallow, superficial scratches on the skin underneath. Curling his hand into a fist, the clone punched the spot instead. Hitting Catra hard in the side, just above her kidney.

Gasping, one arm curling around her mid-section, Catra half-jumped, half-fell off of the alien. She got her feet under her quickly. Turning to face her opponent.

In all her years with the Evil Horde –in all her life- Catra had never seen Lord Hordak look so… wild.

Eyes that always did glow an unnerving shade of red were wide, and blazing brighter. So bright, that they cast a hellish red shine on the dark purple blood that dripped from his face and neck. He was breathing hard, filling the otherwise quiet bridge with the sound of deep panting. He snarled a wordless snarl of his own, showing sharp teeth and even sharper fangs that were as red as his eyes. Thick saliva mingled with his own purple blood dripped from his mouth.

“Catra…!” She more felt, rather than heard her name escape that monstrous, dripping, red hole of a mouth.

Unconsciously, Catra took a step back. He looked almost mindless.

“You took her from me…” He growled. Voice, barely above a whisper. Issuing from the depths of that red throat and drifting through the dark between them. “She was my- my…” He struggled with the vocabulary. None of the 47 languages he was programmed with in the crèche included a term that felt appropriate. “She was mine!”

But he wasn’t completely mindless. Obviously. Just, half-insane with rage –and other emotions he never received any programming in how to process.

“She was going to shut down the portal!” Catra shouted back, trying to regain some measure of control of the situation. “She might not have betrayed you yet, but she was going to!”

Surging forward with only talons and teeth, Hordak closed the space between them. He had been warrior trained since before he gained conscious thought. Programmed with all the knowledge and information a being needed to be an expert in hand-to-hand combat. Then given the physical conditioning and training a being needed to execute that knowledge.

But in his enraged, almost feral state, all that knowledge and training went out the airlock. The clone over extended himself. Stance too wide and unbalanced, arms outstretched too far, movements slowed by the pull of his own body.

Catra was able to dodge him easily.

Hordak stumbled and almost fell. Having to brace his hands against the bridge’s command console to keep from falling. Purple blood dripped on the crystal keys, but he ignored it. His defect prevented him from healing. The cuts would never close. Even if he did manage to defeat Catra now, he would still die. If not from blood loss, then from infection of the open wounds.

Eyes shifting to the rangs that were still impaled in the console, Hordak pulled one out. Taking more time and care when he threw it this time.

His aim was still bad, but it connected with it’s target this time. Sort of.

He had been aiming for Catra’s head, right between her eyes. The blade just barely nicked her ear and a few strands of coarse brown hair.

With a snarl, Catra put one hand to her hear. It came away with blood. He might not have done much damage, but he did open a wound.

The scent of fresh blood –that was not his own- bolstered his confidence. Took him back to the days when he was a competent soldier. When he could run through a battle field, vault across buildings, take out three opponents in close quarters by himself, and still complete the mission. The scent of blood, and adrenaline, and anxiety. The scent of prey. His hindbrain readjusting his mental balance to better stand on the killing edge.

“Setting off the portal destroyed my Sanctum!” He shouted. “Destroyed the empire I built here! The only one who betrayed me is you!”

That statement cut Catra deeper than she thought it would. Deeper than the mention of Shadow Weaver, or even Adora. ‘The problem is you!’

Now it was Catra’s turn to go almost half-mad with rage. How dare he!? He didn’t know her. Or her life. Or what she’d been through. What his empire put her through. What he put her through. He did not get to call her traitor! He did not get to say she was the problem!

Jumping high in the air, Catra leapt over Hordak’s head to land on the console. She plucked the second rang from between the crystal keys and stabbed it into the back of his exo-suit, getting the wing-shaped blade in the joint between two armored plates. Right where his arm met the shoulder.

The whole limb sparked. Sending pins and needles pain through out that whole side of Hordak’s body. He snarled at the sensation. The first rational fear crawling into his brain since Catra confessed his- his Lab Partner had been sent to Beast Island. He was weak without this armor –armor that Entrapta made for him- and Catra knew that. She knew how to kill him, and she very well could.

Trying to move his arm, Hordak was horrified to realize that the armor had locked up on that side. He could not move the arm. Just the tips of his fingers a little bit. He stared at Catra. His instincts for self-preservation overriding his rage at the loss of Entrapta. His hindbrain giving way to rational thought. Hordak stepped back from the killing edge.

Catra did not hesitate. Taking advantage of his fear, and the hesitation that came from it, she jumped on the alien clone again. This time, instead of madly clawing at where his skin was exposed, she had a target and a purpose. She had already ripped his heart out metaphorically, it was time to rip his heart out literally.

Or, at least, literally-adjacent.

She closed her hand over the pink First Ones crystal on his collar. Hand etched with a word neither of them can read, and placed there by Entrapta. It wasn’t just the power source for his exo-suit. It meant something to her. It meant something about them.

Getting her claws in the seem between crystal and setting, Catra pulled hard and- -ripped it out.

The setting sparked.

The whole suit sparked.

Even Catra felt a little jolt of electricity when she ripped out the power crystal.

They both fell to the ground. Catra holding the gem, Hordak sparking and twitching –almost like he were having a seizure.

Catra blinked, staring at him. Watching his body shake and seize. Only looking away when the armor finally shut down and locked up.

She looked at the crystal in her hand. She knew it was the power source for his armor. She knew Entrapta built the armor for Hordak and that it was glitch and didn’t always work right. Hell. Just a bit of sand in it made the thing go into a tizzy. She also knew that Hordak was a lot frailer and weaker than he let on. She knew he visited the First Ones’ med bay regularly and had wide marks and discolorations all over his body. He was sick. Somehow.

But, she didn’t think just shutting down his armor would defeat him.

So easily.

Adora wasn’t even this easy to beat.

Pushing herself to her feet, Catra prodded at Hordak’s prone body with her toe. He groaned, but did not move. He was alive, just not conscious. Kicking him, maybe a bit harder than was necessary, Catra rolled his body over. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, breathing uneven and labored. The scratches she dealt to his face and neck were deep and still bleeding. The neck wound in particular was almost a fountain. Spurting fresh bursts of dark purple blood out in time to the uneven beating of his heart.

Hordak wasn’t dead yet, but he would be dead soon. He would bleed out on the floor.

Catra stood there, staring at him. One arm curved back around her mid-section where he had punched her in the kidney earlier in the fight. She was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. She won. But there was no satisfaction in it.

There was no satisfaction in any victory.

She didn’t feel happy.

She just felt… tired.

Not knowing what else to do, still holding the First One’s crystal in her hand, Catra exited the ship’s bridge.

She would deal with Hordak’s body later.

…

To the vast majority of races in the known universe, it was called ‘Horde World’, but to the Horde themselves, the clone troopers, their commanders, their Captains, the cabinet Lords, and –of course, Horde Prime himself, it was Capital Core. The center of the Empire. The seat from which the Emperor ruled, and the birthing place for his brood of clone soldiers.

A gas giant orbiting a single yellow star. There was no terrestrial surface on Capital Core. The cities and settlements, more importantly, the cloning crèches floated on the layers of the planets gasses. The largest of which was Kurgrad, what could be considered the ‘capital city’ of Capital Core –although, Horde Prime did not rule from it. He ruled from his flagship, the Velvet Glove.

Docking with Kurgrad –or any of the floating settlements of Capital Core- was an experience unto itself. It wasn’t like two ships docking in space. In a zero-gravity environment, without outside forces pulling upon the ships, without particles or corrosive gasses threatening the integrity of the clamps and locks. In space, all anyone had to worry around was maneuvering and making sure not to collide.

But in addition to being a gas giant and having a strong pull that fought with capital ships’ propulsion, the atmospheric layers of Capital Core were also highly acidic and corrosive. The Horde employed various static fields and distortion fields to keep the corrosion at bay. But those fields had to be lowered to allow clamps to lock into place so that ships could dock and an airlock could be established. Docking in Capital Core was an adrenaline pumping ballet of split-second timing between pilot and docking bay engineer.

Once the Leather Vest did dock, however, one could disembark same as any other time a capital ship connected with another vessel.

Zero-Zero-Three stepped off the ship and navigated his way through the narrow corridors of Kurgrad towards the central hub.

The central hub was a wide, circular chamber. With a dome celling of laminated transparasteel and glass so that if one looked up, they could see the ‘sky’ of Capital Core. During cycles of clear weather, the view was that of stars, or maybe some of the planets many moons. On cycles of poor weather, the view would be clouded by swirls and trails of yellow, orange, and cream.

Today seemed to be a cycle of bad weather, Zero-Zero-Three noted. The view outside the dome was a deep caramel orange with a dark streak of scarlet and crimson cutting through on a south-westerly path –a direction the winds did not usually travel.

So preoccupied was Zero-Zero-Three at studying the sky, that he almost didn’t notice the Display.

The central hub was also were Horde Prime staged his examples of what happened to those who betrayed the Empire. Nothing squashed dissent faster than gruesome Displays. Usually, the bodies erected in the center of the hub were those of aliens. Scientists that tended the cloning crèches, engineers that maintained the static fields, mechanics that serviced the ships, and any other variety of imperial subject that served in a menial labor job. Every now and again, one of them would grow malcontent and have to be put down. Their body then put up on Display as a warning to any others who might try and use their job to sabotage Horde Prime’s mighty Empire.

Today, however, the Display was not an alien.

Zero-Zero-Three stared at the body. Not quite sure what he was supposed to think.

Tall, like himself. With long legs, a narrow waist and wide ribcage. Hands that ended in talons just like his own. A pike was driven up their cloaca, the point of it coming up out of the stump where their head used to be. Even without the head, Zero-Zero-Three would recognize the body. It was his own body –minus the discoloration caused by his defects, of course. It was a clone body.

The traitor on display was a Horde clone.

He stood there, staring at the body of one of his brothers. Faceless, numberless, anonymous. And tried to imagine why and how a Horde clone could ever even think to betray their Brother. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t think it was possible. Horde Prime was the Empire, to betray the Empire was to betray Horde Prime and vice-versa. What defect in programing could lead to such… heresy –for lack of a better word.

Zero-Zero-Three stood there for so long, in fact, that Red Hord had to pull him by the arm. “C’mon, let’s get some gray rations.”

He allowed the other clone to pull him through the hub to the canteen district. A corridor lined with kiosks and stalls dispensing food. Alien dishes for those that lived in Capital Core to serve the Empire. Creatures that took advantage of the fact that it was the Core of the Empire, and bartered for foodstuffs from cargo freighters. Grilled vegetables, freeze-dried meats, powdered grains, and boiled roots. Red Hord pulled Zero-Zero-Three past all of this, uninterested. Horde clones had no taste for non-processed foods and preferred the flavorless ration bars provided to them by the Imperial canteen.

The Imperial canteen was decidedly absent of alien dinners. Anyone who was eating from the Imperial canteen was a clone.

The moment their brothers noted that it was a cabinet Lord striding through, they immediately moved out of the way, some of them even humbling themselves with a polite bow. Zero-Zero-Three used to do the same thing until just recently. Until just recently, he was the same as all their other brothers. But this was not an entirely new experience for him. In fact, walking with Red Hord and watching their other brothers bow out of the way, reminded Zero-Zero-Three of his time serving under Lord Hode and the comparison suddenly made him miss the old clone.

Clones died all the time. In droves. The loss of a brother should not have been a big deal for him. Zero-Zero-Three should have felt nothing. But, when he was reminded of Hode, he felt an uncomfortable sensation of… something missing. Something that he’d assumed would always be there and took for granted but was now inexplicably gone. Zero-Zero-Three didn’t know what word to call this feeling. The appropriate vocabulary hadn’t been programmed into him for this kind of sensation. None of the 47 languages the clones of Horde Prime were programmed with seemed to include something to describe what he felt. ‘Loss’ didn’t quite seem to cover it. ‘Bereft’ maybe, but it still felt off.

Then movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention and Zero-Zero-Three looked up, forgetting thoughts of his incomplete language programming.

He looked up, eyes scanning the corridor they’d just stepped through, sure he must have been mistaken. Sure his defects were manifesting again and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

A figure weaving between the aliens of the canteen district. A figure wearing a dark cape and a hood. The hood throwing their face into shadow so that no expression –or even identity- could be seen.

Without even making the conscious decision to, Zero-Zero-Three left Red Hord’s side to follow the hooded figure. It couldn’t be. Academically, Zero-Zero-Three knew he must have been mistaken. But his feet still led him to follow.

Red Hord looked up when the younger clone dashed away, sprinting after someone in the crowd. Maybe it was true what he’d heard about his brother. The man was not smart. Red Hord took a bite of gray ration bar and watched Zero-Zero-Three sprint through the crowd, terrifying every alien he passed, and irritating every clone brother.

Zero-Zero-Three followed that dark cloak to an almost deserted part of the station. Pipes and boiler tanks, rust and steam. Dim lights, low hanging cables, poor visibility.

“Wait!” Zero-Zero-Three was almost on top of the hooded figure by the time he realized that, no, this was not Hode.

The figure paused, finally turning around.

He still couldn’t see their face, but they were much too short to be a clone of Horde Prime. All of Zero-Zero-Three’s brothers were the same height. His height. But this hooded figure only came up to about the clone’s collarbone. Too short to be Hode.

Their face was hidden, but the cape parted enough for Zero-Zero-Three to catch a glimpse of the body underneath it.

Steel toed boots with mean-looking horns that might have been decorative, except they could do some serious damage if a being were kicked with them. Metal grieves that went up to the knee, but no combat stockings or other such armor. Bare skin exposed to the air, blue, but not clone blue. Horde clones’ skin was more of a gray-blue, while this was closer to azure or jewel-blue. An alien blue. A leather, studded, and armored loincloth hung from narrow hips. The chest was just as bare and exposed as the thighs. Displaying more azure blue skin, pulled tight over toned and sculpted muscles. Hard abdominals and chiseled pectorals. A pair of crossed belts, like bandoliers, but without weapons crossed over that impossibly muscular chest, with a motif of bones for decoration.

That was all Zero-Zero-Three could see. Everything else was concealed by the hood and cape.

This wasn’t Hode.

But it was an alien that was standing in what definitely looked like what should be a restricted area of Kurgrad.

“Who are you?” Demanded the clone.

The hooded figure did not answer immediately. The head tilted up, the folds of the hood pulling back just enough to expose a square, bone colored chin.

Then Zero-Zero-Three heard a familiar squawk and all thoughts of the mysterious alien he mistook for Hode vanished from his mind.

Hode’s deamon fluttered down from the pipes and cabling above their heads. The tiny android landed on the hooded figure’s shoulder. If Hode’s deamon trusted this alien then perhaps they were not an intruder. The alien nodded at the deamon, as if telling him ‘it’s okay, go ahead’, before the android flapped its wings again and fluttered over to Zero-Zero-Three. Unconsciously, the clone reached a talon up to scratch under the deamon’s chin as if it were an organic being.

“Hode wished him to be given to you.” Said the hooded figure. Voice high in pitch, almost screechy, and very very nasal. The voice did not entirely seem to fit the body it issued from.

Zero-Zero-Three looked back at the alien. “You knew Lord Hode?”

“Intimately.” Confessed the figure.

But Zero-Zero-Three had never heard his Lord mention any alien allies he might have. Certainly none that he would know intimately enough to entrust his deamon to. Unless…

Unless this hooded figure who would not show their face was lying. Red Hord did say that Hode’s deamon disappeared upon Hode’s death. What if Hode did not entrust his deamon to this alien, what if he stole it from the Empire. Lord Hode did store countless files of information inside the small android. Even added extra memory to him to accommodate it all.

But the deamon did not seem like a hostage being released.

In any event, Lord Hode’s deamon had been found. Even if Zero-Zero-Three wasn’t already about to be promoted to the cabinet, this would be a feat worthy or earning favor from the Emperor. “Horde Prime will be relieved you’ve been found.”

At that statement, the deamon did look concerned. He gave a squawk of disagreement and hopped off Zero-Zero-Three’s shoulder to flutter back to the hooded alien.

The alien only sighed. The sound issuing from the shadows of the hood carrying nothing but disappointment, and for some reason, Zero-Zero-Three was reminded of Hode’s ear-droop when he asked the younger clone ‘what is the Empire’.

“Hode was right, you are a slow learner.” He said. “Imp will stay with me until you’re ready for him.”

“Imp?” Echoed the clone. Androids can’t choose their own names.

“When you’re ready, come to Eternia.” Continued the hooded figure. “Imp will be waiting for you on Snake Mountain.”

…

A strand of course, messy brown hair had fallen over the front of Catra’s headdress and she had to brush it out of the way with a sigh. Her heart was still pounding and her side still hurt from her fight with Hordak. But she won. She was still Boss Catra of the Crimson Wastes. She was still on top.

Now she just had to figure out what she was going to do now.

The previous She-Ra’s mysterious First Ones weapon was a bust. With Hordak gone, and Entrapta probably already dead on Beast Island, the only other people on Etheria capable of working with First Ones tech were with the Rebellion. They wouldn’t help her. Not even if she asked nicely. So, what was she going to do now…? What came next? What did she… want…?

What was that running across the sand towards the ship?

“Catra~a!” Adora came from out of literally nowhere! “For the Honor of Grayskull!”

And punched her in the face with a golden, glowing fist.

But Adora wasn’t alone. Fast behind her were Bow and Scorpia. So, she decided the betray Catra after what happened in Entrapta’s old lab. Fine. That was fine. Catra didn’t need Scorpia. Just like she didn’t need Shadow Weaver, or Hordak. She didn’t need Adora either. Catra didn’t need anyone!

Entrapta’s bot, Emily, came up next, being helped up the dune by Adora’s talking horse. Of course, the robot would side with the Princesses after what she did to the tech Princess. Emily probably wanted revenge for what was done to her creator.

Behind Emily was some kind of creature. Catra had to rub her eyes. There must be sand in them or something. Or maybe She-Ra’s punch gave her a concussion. It looked like Hordak. A child-Hordak, running up to her. Imp flapping next to them. But that couldn’t be right. Hordak was dead –or, would be dead very soon, she had no idea how long it took a creature like him to bleed out- and Hordak had no children of his own before they left the Fright Zone. What was this thing?

All thoughts of the mysterious and inexplicable child-Hordak went out of Catra’s head, however, when she saw the final member of their part run up. “Entrapta!? But- you’re dead-!”

“Catra! Hey!” Entrapta paused, unsure how she was supposed to act now. She thought Catra was her best friend. According to her Interpersonal Relationship Algorithm, Catra was her best friend. But then, Catra tazed her in the back and shipped her to Beast Island, so… maybe the data was wrong. Entrapta didn’t know what to do. “Did you come to see the First Ones ship too?”

Frozen for a moment, Catra just stared at the other woman. If she had arrived just a little bit sooner, just a little bit, that whole fight with Hordak could have been avoided. She would have had two frustrating nerd to fix her ship for her and it probably would have gotten done in a day with Entrapta. Now… with Entrapta’s precious ‘lab partner’ bleeding out and probably already dead by now, there was no way the tech Princess was going to help her.

That didn’t even cover all the others that came with her. All of whom looked like they were out for Catra’s blood –Adora included.

Catra locked eyes with Adora –with She-ra. She hated that glowing aura, that long golden hair, that all white uniform that never seemed to get dirty no matter what kind of fight she was in. Princess. Ugh! Catra hated it. If Adora had never become She-Ra, none of this would have ever happened! Catra felt more than heard a hiss escape her throat. How dare Adora do this to her!

Her hands balled into fists at her sides and the Frist Ones crystal she ripped out of Hordak’s armor slipped from her fingers.

Entrapta was the only one to notice it when it fell in the sand.

“What’s that?” Before anyone else could move, she had slithered over with her hair and scooped the item up out of the sand.

Then she froze.

Recognizing it instantly.

“This- this is-“ A tendril of hair slithered up to try and lower her welding mask over her face, but it was trembling and did not connect. Her mask stayed up, allowing everyone to see her expression as her brain tried desperately to process information and emotions she did not know how to process. “I gave this to Hordak.”

But Scorpia told her he died.

If Hordak died in the Fright Zone, what was his crystal doing here?

She looked up at the scorpion woman. “Where’s Hordak?”

“I’m Hordak.” Dak tried to remind her.

But she wasn’t listening to them. Her gaze shifted from Scorpia to Catra. Eyes wide, but pupils small, brows down at a sharp angle. Her hair lashed out, intertwining around Catra’s body. Holding the other woman immobile and lifting her up off the sand. Entrapta slammed the younger woman against the exterior plating of the First Ones ship. “Where’s Hordak!?”

Catra groaned, gritting her teeth. She’d never seen Entrapta act this way before and she had no idea what to do. How did one talk one’s way out of being strangled by the magical hair of a Princess that couldn’t tell the difference between a forbidden Sanctum belonging to an evil overlord, and fun workplace where she hung out with a gloomy goth cyborg?

“Pro-probably dead by now.” Catra managed to squeeze out, Entrapta’s hair really was holding her tightly. Like, really tightly. Like, getting hard to breath, shadows behind the eyes, tightly.

“But he was alive!” Entrapta pressed. She needed accurate data. She needed to know. People had a tendency to make vague statements and just assume that she would understand. She did not understand. She was missing whatever it was that everyone else had that allowed them to understand and communicate with each other. She needed explicitly clear statements. “How recently was he alive?”

Catra gasped for air. Entrapta was holding her so tight. It was supposed to be morning. The Glow Moon was high in the sky. Why was everything so dark?

“Entrapta!” That was Adora’s voice. Why did Adora sound so far away? Why did Adora sound scared?

“Entrapta, let her go! Please!” That was Scorpia.

Why did all of them sound so far away?

Then the pressure constricting her was gone and Catra fell to the sand.

Gasping.

She lay on her back, breathing hard. Filling her lungs with oxygen as long snake-like bruises formed on her skin where Entrapta’s hair had constricted her. Her vision began to clear and she was inexplicably reminded of the way Hordak had choked her by sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Entrapta almost killed her, she realized. Catra didn’t think Entrapta could be capable of something like that. She was a Princess, after all.

She and Hordak were suited for each other.

Catra laid in the warm sand. She was alive. But still so inexplicably tired.

“Inside.” She finally answered. “Hordak’s bleeding out inside.”

Catra’s eyes were already closed, she passed out before Entrapta had time to jerk her way out of Scorpia’s arms and dash inside the ship.

As Catra said, he was inside. A long, thin body playing prone on the floor. A wide pool of dark purple blood had pooled around his head and shoulders, leaking from deep gashes in his neck. Catra must have cut his species’ equivalent of the jugular vein with her claws.

Putting most of her weight on her hair, not caring that she got the sensitive strands soaked in blood, Entrapta hovered over him. She hesitated for a moment. But, it was Hordak, her Lab Partner. Her… she didn’t know the appropriate term. Scorpia was her Best Friend, but the way she felt about Hordak… he was also very special to her, just in a different way. He was her ‘Extra Friend’? She shook her head. Terminology and classifications could come later, she had to assess his condition right now.

Setting her misgivings aside, Entrapta peeled one of her gloves off.

She pressed two fingers to the side of his neck that was not open and leaking vital fluids.

At first, she thought Catra was right. That she was too late. That he had bled out. That Hordak was dead.

But just as she was about to pull her hand away, she felt the slightest of pulses. One small ‘ba…bump’. It was faint. Perhaps just the last impotent beat. It wasn’t like there was much left in him to pump. But it gave Entrapta hope. If she could just get some fresh blood in him from a compatible donor…

“Mother…?”

Entrapta looked up.

Dak, the clone she made of Hordak, had followed her into the ship.

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #entrapdak kid #clone baby au #horde's past #catra #adora #scorpia #bow #hordak #entrapta #flashback #berserk button #imp #horde world #skeletor

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gyromitra-esculenta · 5 years

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It’s got a name now~~! ‘Jack the Stag, and Other Works Penned by the Esteemed Songstress Sombra’. It’s an inside joke, probably.

Otherwise: a bad Witcher AU but not because of the TV series (rest is somewhere here either under totally not witcher au or murder-deer tag). Part 2. Unedited, at the moment, but getting close to that since I hit 5k.

Warnings: Violence, giant bugs, idiots, weasels, and flying pigs.

"That's why you love me," Jack sing-songs, unsheathing his own sword, twirling it around once in his hand with an added flourish - grinning like a madman with half his face soaked in blood.

"I tolerate you, that's different!"

"And that's why I love you too!"

As always, a discussion best saved for a time they're not having it over two giant insects that had managed to separate one from the other just now, and preferably to be undertaken at some nebulous future moment when Gabriel feels like being philosophical and questioning.

And shitfaced drunk.

"Take the..." Before he can finish, the male centipede hisses and lurches at Jack, probably seeing him as the immediate threat - and Jack dances out of the way, visibly leading it away from the female. "...yeah."

"I'll get the first kill," Jack taunts him.

"As if."

It's on, and regardless of the circumstances Gabriel smiles, moving into the female's field of view, noting how there is a kink where the chitin segments curl around the wound his sword had inflicted, and along with the smell of the carrion wafts acrid aroma of the burn.

With the centipedes, and the majority of other giant insectoids, there were only four strategies viable: wolf pits where it impaled itself under its own weight, severing the nervous cord behind its head, doing enough damage from below, or magic. The fifth method, though...

They were certainly one disposable angry peasant mob short for it to work.

Gabriel keeps from the female's range - circling it as it turns after him, considering his approach, and in the end deciding to utilize the same maneuver as previously, fingers forming the sign again.

Mid-jump, he slips a dagger into his left hand, and wedges it behind a plate without delay to gain support as he lands - a bit too far from the centipede's head. Not a problem as he's still a little out of the reach of its maw but he needs to move further on its back.

He jams the sword sideways under the next plate and shifts, sliding forward - alternates with the dagger until the centipede looks about ready to roll over to get him off its back. The short blade breaks under the pressure the segments he has it forced between put on it.

But Gabriel's already bracing with the sword raised and pushes it down below the edge of the looser plate the female has over its head with all his strength, more feeling than hearing things snapping and crunching under the steel.

Then, he twists the blade from side to side.

The centipede crumples to the ground with the grace of a flying pig that just got disenchanted even though the impetus carries it few meters along its path.

It starts spasming the length of its body erratically as its scant nervous systems tries to make sense of the damage done.

Gabriel repeats the twist and cut again, to be sure, and rips the sword back - now jumping off the centipede and putting some distance between himself and its death throes - to the litany of 'fucks' screamed from the side with the varying volume, the most more muffled than not.

Which is fair because Jack, smeared from head to toe in brownish green blood and some dirty yellow remains of the other insect insides, is just about crawling from under the other centipede successfully. Also, frantically ripping his slowly blackening in places shirt off.

"Do you need any help?"

"Fuck you! There's bug guts all over me!" Jack tosses the smoldering now fabric to the ground. "That was my favorite shirt!"

Gabriel only rolls his eyes withholding any scathing remark and walks to him with a small detour to retrieve the pack on the way.

"Sit, and get at least some of it off," he throws Jack a cloth. "And give me a minute, I need to clean your cheek."

"Needn't bother, little cub."

"It's still open. You're not healing properly, so don't 'little cub' me, you horned dolt, am I clear?"

Jack at first opens his mouth but then there's only an angry snort coming from him, and he dutifully starts to wipe with the provided cloth, letting Gabriel sit in front of him and rummage in the pack for the supplies he needs.

"Okay, but the horned dolt was actually good."

It's Gabriel's turn to snort, and then laugh, as he tries to glare at Jack.

"You are a horned dolt, after all. Get down." He points to the ground. As soon as Jack complies, Gabriel rubs his face with the antiseptic - ignoring the hissing. The wound is still open and bleeding.

"See. It's healing."

"Not as it's supposed to. There should be stitches."

"If I see you with the needle, I'm kicking you in the face!"

"You were thrashing all around then." Gabriel finishes cleaning the cut. "Did you get burned anywhere?"

"I should be asking how's your arm."

"It's fine, don't try to change the subject, turn around," Gabriel orders Jack in spite of the comically annoyed face he pulls as he complies to show the extensive swath of blistered skin below his shoulder. "That's it. You're wearing armor until this thing gets sorted out."

"It's constraining."

Gabriel dabs the wound with more force than necessary, maliciously enjoying the resulting yelp.

"It's keeping you from getting your dumb ass hurt," he punctuates each word with another swab, noting how the destroyed layer of the skin does not peel off. The last time Jack got splashed with a corrosive fluid, the dead skin had been already flaking off by itself in the span of minutes, and the scar tissue had faded after a week or two. "Shut up," Gabriel adds preemptively and shifts to lean his forehead against Jack's shoulder. "I don't... You're in more pain than you should be because something's not right and you're not telling me."

"So you do care," Jack responds with a note of triumph in his voice and Gabriel sighs deeply as he curbs the overwhelming urge to punch him out of sheer frustration.

"Yes. Yes, I do care, you dumb fucking moron, so what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong, little cub. I just need to recuperate, and that takes time."

"What time exactly?"

"I don't know, a few months, maybe a year." Jack shrugs.

"You're not weaseling out of proper armor now."

"I'm not 'weaseling' out of anything, they're damn chirpy murderous anklebiters and I resent the comparison."

"Of course you object to that one, out of everything," Gabriel laughs, patting Jack's other shoulder lightly.

"You know what's in those little heads non-stop? Murder!"

"You made your point."

"It's like they wake up and ask: 'hey, what's for breakfast?', and the answer is always 'bloody murder'."

"I think I get it."

"And then, 'hey, let's do something fun', and other weasels are 'what?', and the answer is 'bloody murder', and they all cheer!"

"Yeah. I see absolutely no similarities, at all. None whatsoever." Gabriel chuckles to himself, still staying with his forehead pressed against the warm shoulder as Jack leans back a bit. "You're still not getting out of properly gearing up."

"Well, fuck."

"We should get to the grove before the morning breaks because you need to wash all this off, you stink worse than the goat now."

Jack sniffs loudly, his whole frame moving with the action.

"I think I've lost my sense of smell. Weird."

"No, that's the antiseptic."

"Really? It can do that?" Jack huffs the air with a renewed interest.

"Because your whole cheek is covered in it. Get used to it until we get you sorted out." Gabriel shifts back with reluctance and climbs to his feet. "C'mon. We should get going."

"Whatever you say, little cub."

"Bug guts. All over you. You hate..." Gabriel loses the line reasoning when Jack, with the cloth thrown over his shoulder and the sword in hand, passes him - stalking towards the corpse of the female centipede. "We can leave that for after we..." And Jack takes a swinging kick that connects with the underside of the insectoid, sending its whole frame wobbling. "Bugs. You hate bugs."

Jack takes to looking attentively at the centipede while pacing down the length of its body, ultimately squatting in a chosen specific spot. He slits the belly and waits as the insides start to spill through the cut, between them fall slightly misshapen spheres, milky, partially translucent.

"They're fertilized, and they usually keep only one adult pair around." Jack brushes his fingertips over the surface of the eggs He pauses only to pick some out and puts them all on the soiled cloth, ready to bundle them up.

"Feeling gracious?" Gabriel muses over the unpacked supplies he's gathering.

"Maybe. Because there will be a gap they won't be able to fill, and that could kill the whole population."

"I didn't think you'd see a problem with this."

"They're controlling the numbers, or at least they were, until those slipped the leash. I find them icky and disagreeable but there's a need for them."

"Ecology at its finest and most murderous." Gabriel shakes his head.

"Oi!" Jack turns and sticks his tongue out at him.

It's easy to forget things Jack is - or isn't, for that matter - but then he slips. He always slips. He is vain and pernicious, but no more than the nature itself is; demanding and unreasonable, yet caring when no-one expects it.

A strange thought it is, this question that nowadays rears its ugly head more than ever, and Gabriel can't help wondering how much of what Jack is, is Gabriel's own doing? Wouldn't he be better off away from here, never having taken pity on a child in the woods?

But then, he is selfish. Even daring to imagine the constant of Jack's presence being gone is something he dreads - and now it's a possibility it may happen not because he's bound to grow bored and leave, but because whatever's wrong with him will kill him.

"What, the bugbear's got your tongue?" Jack looks at him quizzically, the bundled in the cloth eggs held in hand, the sword sheathed already. "I'll toss a coin for your thoughts."

"Nothing." Gabriel shakes his head and shoulders the pack. "Let's get going, you look dreadful."

"I look great, always. Majestic, even."

"Yeah, not right now," Gabriel turns, trying not to dwell on his now foul mood as he marches, Jack fast on his heels keeping quiet - and this again is unsettling because the banter, the jabs and the barbs, leaves an absence of distraction.

And without the distraction, his thoughts run in circles of worry and anger, and something else he cannot put the name to - or the other way around, he knows what it is and still refuses to name it.

"Just fucking say something," he grinds out without looking back.

"So you could be more vexed with me?" The tone is level, and maybe curious.

"Don't..."

"I don't need to be in your head to see it. You're really angry with me, then," Jack continues with a note of dejection in his voice, "if you think I'd seek your thoughts on my own."

"That's not what... I trust you not to." The strangest of it all is, he truly does, but it's something easy to fall back on when angry.

"You're still accusing me of it," Jack points out.

"Because you're fucking lying to me, so maybe you're lying about this too."

"I had never lied to you, why would I start doing it now?"

"Omission is a lie." Gabriel refuses to look at Jack who know keeps to his side, and with no answer incoming he only grows angrier.

"Then you should ask," Jack responds with a click of his tongue as he overtakes him. Gives him a hard lingering look paired with a crooked half-smile, too, before he turns and skips forward. "You wanted to hurry, cub."

"This is not over."

"Of course it is, cub, because you never ask, do you?" The remark itself is full of reproach and disappointment.

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #totallynotwitcher!AU #murder-deer

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theangelssecondwing · 4 years

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Chapter 14

„Genetic… experiments?“ My mouth was hanging open from what Sephiroth and Angeal had been telling me. „Shinra‘s scientists experimented on unborn children? And Genesis was one of these children?!“

„Hollander did. We do not know just how involved the company itself was in the experiments“, Angeal corrected me. „And Genesis isn‘t the only… result of these experiments.“

„Who else?“

Sephiroth met my gaze, and in a barely noticable notion, he tilted is head in Angeal‘s direction.

I looked to Angeal, eyes widened. „No way!“

He got up and walked over to the window, arms crossed and looking out into the overcast sky. „I hope it does not make you think any less of me.“

„Of course not!“ I got up as well, absolutely appalled. „You are the victim in this situation! And so is Genesis! This is so messed up!“

„I really don‘t appreciate being called a victim, you know“, he replied flatly.

I sighed and looked off to the side. „Sorry.“

„But thank you for your sympathy.“ He turned around again. „We met Genesis and Hollander in that lab. The state of degradation Genesis was in was appearantly due his genetical code being extremely unstable after Hollander messed around with it so much in-utero. Now Genesis is doing Hollander‘s bidding because he believes that Hollander knows how to cure him… and would be willing to do so.“

Yui had been quiet the entire time, just staring at her folded hands in her lap. „My poor Genesis“, she mumbled finally. Then her hands tensed up into fists. „Hollander will pay for this. All of this.“

„As we have established before.“ Sephiroth crossed his arms in front of his chest. „However, right now we have to make sure that Genesis survives. That is our biggest priority at the moment. Once we made sure that he is safe, then we can stop Hollander and anyone who was also involved in these experiments.“

„But how does one fix messed up DNA?“, Yui asked doubtfully.

„We‘ll have to find out.“ Angeal sounded absolutely determined. „And we will. Our next step is-“ He was interrupted by both his and Sephiroth‘s cellphone going off at the same time. They picked up and listened for a moment.

Then they exchanged an alarmed glance.

„We‘re on our way“, Sephiroth promised, and they both hung up. Then he turned to Yui and me. „The Shinra building is under attack. We‘ll go and take care of it. You-“

„I‘m coming too“, I said, jumping up. „My dad is in there!“

„Too dangerous“, Sephiroth replied. He cupped my face in his hands. „You‘ll be safe as long as you stay here. Don‘t worry about your father. I‘ll protect him.“ Then he kissed my forehead.

„Sephiroth.“ I grabbed the sleeves of his mantle, digging my nails into the smooth leather.

„I‘ll be fine“, he promised again. Once I let go, he looked up to Angeal. „Ready?“

„Let‘s go.“

They left, leaving Yui and me alone.

„What a mess“, I sighed and sat down. „But I guess this is what we signed up for when we started dating our boyfriends.“

„Indeed“, Yui replied and sat down next to me. After a short moment of silence she added:„Am I the only one who doesn‘t feel like sitting around waiting for the guys to get back?“

„No, but Sephiroth is right. It is too dangerous.“

„I know that.“ Yui‘s hands were curled into fists. „But… Genesis might also be there. And my mom? I have nobody to protect her for me!“

I remained quiet for a little. Would we even be in danger? Certainly, Genesis wouldn‘t attack us, if he was the one responsible for the attack, would he? „I… I guess it would be okay if we go to check out the situation. Maybe the attack is already over. And… I am really worried about my dad.“

Yui grabbed my hand and smiled at me gratefully. „I knew you‘d understand.“

The foyer was in ruins when we entered it. The guards were all occupied with the invading forces; both machines and men with all too familiar reddish-brown hair peeking out from under their helmets. Luckily, nobody, neither friend nor foe, really paid attention to us as we hurried up the stairs and to the elevator.

Yui hit the button to the floor both my dad and her mother had their offices in, and we caught our breaths as the elevator zoomed upward. What expected us when the door opened again was sheer pandemonium. Secretaries as well as their bosses were scrambling for safety from the attackers. Mostly machines. Some people were already down, leaving small pools of blood dotted around the usually immaculate floors. Knocked out or dead?

We didn‘t have time to check. Some of these people had dropped their guns, and we each grabbed one.

Even though it was common for people of our social class to carry firearms for self-defense, I had never even considered arming myself. The weapon was heavy and still warm from being recently used.

A shrill, ear-piercing shriek echoed through the corridor, and Yui and I rushed towards the sound. We found Justine cornered by one of the small security drones Shinra usually employed. I took aim, hoping I would hit. The recoil of the weapons felt like it would dislocate my shoulder, but the shot at least hit the target, which fell apart.

Not exactly quality craftsmenship, these drones, I thought.

Justine looked up at me and slowly tried to get to her feet, only for her high heeled shoes to slip and her to land on her behind again. She glared at me. „Don‘t think that this changes anything. You could save my life a thousand times and I still wouldn‘t forgive you for taking Sephiroth from me.“

„Whatever. I don‘t care“, I replied. „Come on, Yui. My dad-“

„Your father is on the presidential floor with my father and Mrs. Yuuji“, Justine interrupted me. „I just didn‘t make it to the elevater in time and then was cornered by this thing.“ She pointed to the remains of the drone.

„Hey!“, another voice rang over to us. A voice I recognized as Zack. „Everything alright over there?“ He came sprinting over, briefly slipping on a blood puddle but regaining his balance and making it the rest of the way to us.

„Zack!“ I turned to him. „Zack, where‘s Sephiroth?“

„After he evacuated everyone important and brought them to the president‘s office, we found out that Genesis actually came here to kill Hojo, so he‘s on his way to the laboratories. I just wanted to check up on this floor before going there too, so don‘t worry.“

„Then that‘s where we‘re going, too“, Yui said firmly. „I have something to say to Genesis.“

„What? No, that‘s too dangerous! I don‘t want to know what Sephiroth is going to do to me if he finds out I let his girlfriend and her friend but themselves in danger!“

„But we aren‘t in danger while you are with us, are we, Zack?“, I asked, doing my best to sound cheerful despite this mess of a situation. „If you don‘t let us come with you, we will go on our own. THEN we‘re really in danger.“

He slumped over slightly. „Aw, come on.“

„Don‘t worry. If Sephiroth gets mad, we‘ll accept full responsibility.“ I patted him on the shoulder.

Zack, Yui and I jumped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, and we ran down the corridor to the laboratory. An uncomfortable shiver went up my spine when I saw the glass door, still shattered from when Sephiroth and Angeal broke in to save me.

Easy, Cora, I reminded myself. Deep breaths. This is different.

Nobody was forcing me to be here right now. Except maybe my own recklessness.

We rushed through, and there was Genesis, his sword already pointed at Hojo‘s back. Hojo seemed completely unperturbed by this, but was just droning on and on about him being smarter than Hollander. I wasn‘t really paying that much attention to him. My focus was more on Yui, who rushed forward.

„Genesis!“

He turned his head, and his eyes widened for a split second. „Yui. Cora.“ He shook his head. „My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains.“ That wasn‘t directed at us, but to Sephiroth and Angeal who stepped out of the elevator at that moment.

Yui was shaking. „..The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess. Genesis. There has to be another way. You don‘t have to do Hollander‘s bidding. Please. Come home.“

„Home?“ Genesis closed his eyes. „Was this here ever...‘home‘?“ He looked at her, and a small, sad smile appeared on his face. „Maybe it is. You have changed so much for me, Yui. But I fear that I cannot return. Hollander is the only one who can cure me. And to make sure that he will help me… I have to kill Hojo.“

I sighed. „I will hate myself for saying this, but… don‘t. Hollander has no intention of honoring his word. He is just using you. Genesis, we‘re your friends. Why won‘t you let us help?“

He looked away. „Hasn‘t Shinra already decided my fate? That I am to be put down like a dog that has outlived its usefullness?“

I bit my lip. I couldn‘t say that yes, Shinra had decided that he needed to be dealt with but no, we would not let that happen. Not while Hojo was listening.

Sephiroth grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him. „You know us well enough. And you know where our loyalties lie.“

Genesis stood silent for a moment. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly. „I see.“ His hand glew with channeled magic, which he aimed at a wall, the explosion ripping a decently sized hole into it. „I hope I will see you again soon. My friends.“ Then he jumped, the huge black wing again carrying him as safely as if he had two.

#The Angel's Second Wing #fanfiction #selfship fic

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years

Text

Klarosummer - Bali, Indonesia || Terbang Menjauh

@klarosummerbingo

Caroline stared up at her light yellow ceiling from where she was sprawled on her bed. Even gazing straight up she could see in her peripherals the gaps where photos and cheer competition trophies and wall decorations used to be.

Most of her things had been moved to her dorm in Whitmore, leaving only the essentials in her old bedroom. And as Caroline laid in the bare bones of her childhood she wondered to herself what the hell she was doing.

She had turned down acceptances to her child self’s dream schools, bundling herself up and shipping away to somewhere close to home. And she had her list of reasons. Wanting to be close to her mom. Wanting to be close to her friends. Not wanting to waste the limited amount of time she had left with her human life, not when she had all of eternity promised to her.

And they were valid and important reasons, but she was also tired.

College was supposed to be one of her last big human milestones. Instead she and her friends were inundated with more Supernatural shenanigans: killing Silas (again!), burying collateral damage (how she fucking hated those words), uncovering anti-vampire secret societies (Augustine 0/10, do not recommend), Travelers, endless friggin’ drama.

So, that’s how she ended up here.

Contrary to her Caroline Forbes neurotic, control-freak on crack persona, she had spontaneously taken the weekend off to just get some space. Some perspective.

The sound of the front door opening carried up to her ears.

“Hey, Mom?” She called out, already half-down the stairs.

In uniform, as always, her mom jolted, hand going for her gun holster until she processed who was there.

The woman relaxed, though her eyebrows pinched together a bit, confused.

“Sweetie, I wasn’t expecting you.” The older blonde set down her coat, lips slightly down-turned. “Is something wrong?”

Caroline shifted, fingers rubbing at the material of her floral dress.

She bit her lip.

“Mom? ...Would-would you be angry if I took a break from college?”

And although Caroline’s relationship had vastly improved with her mother (it only took her death), she was still surprised by the calm reaction.

Her mom just pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down.

“Can you tell me why?”

She paced back and forth, trying to put her mental state into words.

“I just- I feel tired. Right now, school is actually one of my lower priorities because it seems some new supernatural problem pops up every week. And even if that wasn’t part of the issue, I also know I can go do school anytime. Hell, I can go more than once if I really want to. And honestly, I never thought it would be me who’s saying something like this, but I want more time to discover what it is I want from my life.”

Caroline turned to face her mother, offering a slightly self-deprecating smile.

“You know me, I had all these plans. My five, ten, twenty year goals and lists and priorities all mapped out. And then a year ago I had to scrap most of it.” She ran a hand through her curls, turning slightly to pace a few more steps. “But now, I’m coming to realize maybe I’ve been clinging too hard to the parts I had left, rather than scrapping it and coming up with a new plan. One that works for the me I am now.”

“You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”

A giggle burst from Caroline’s lips.

“Actually I haven’t! Maybe it’s been building for a while, but earlier today I just hopped into my car and drove down here.”

She turned back to face her mom, hearing as the woman stood from her chair and walked over.

Her hand was warm but firm on Caroline’s shoulder.

“Caroline, I know we haven’t always been the best people to each other, and I haven’t always been the best mom. But I did always want you to be happy, healthy, safe. And this is the first time in a while I’ve seen you truly passionate about something. So, if you came here for my blessing, you have it.” The sheriff affixed a wry little grin on her face. “And if you wanted my guidance... well, maybe a happy medium between a twenty year plan and hopping in the car.”

Caroline’s resulting smile was enormous, practically beaming in delight. And she threw her arms around her mother, all but smothering the poor woman in a hug as she hid the beading tears starting to gather at the corner’s of her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” she whispered.

Back in her room, having hashed out some of the logistics of leaving so suddenly (Thanks, Mom!), Caroline dug out her old globe. She grinned, tickled by the cliche she was about to indulge in.

Shutting her eyes and giving it a quick spin, she set her index finger on the textured plastic as it slowed and stopped.

Eyes opening, her finger traced over the bright pink islands. Small black text declaring her destination.

“Indonesia,” she breathed in wonderment.

A smile started to stretch across her face, she knew little about Indonesia.

In a blur, Caroline darted around the room, snatching up her laptop and scrounging through her near empty desk for a notepad and a sad three little highlighters (cyan, pink, and yellow).

And even as she pulled page after page of Google results, her tab count growing by the second, another resource idea wiggled around in the back of her head. Almost subconsciously her hand reached for her phone, pulling up her contacts, and pausing. Her thumb hovering over the K’s as Caroline glanced down at the screen.

Spontaneity has been working for me.

Before she could second guess herself and talk herself out of it, she tapped the name, pulling up the little menu and hitting ‘Call.’

It rang.

Ring. Ri-

“Hello, Caroline.”

“Klaus,” she breathed.

“I must say, sweetheart, this is a pleasant surprise. After our lovely rendezvous in the woods I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.” She could hear the smile in his words and felt a bloom of heat in her cheeks (God, she couldn’t wait until she didn’t blush so noticeably anymore. Old vampires got all the perks). And then his tone shifted. “You’re not calling because you’re in trouble are you? I haven’t received any such news recently, but if you need something just say the word I’ll-”

Caroline cut him off with a laugh, ignoring the little flutter of her heart and the silly grin on her face. “No, no, it’s nothing like that!” Pause. “Wait a minute, ‘received any such news’? Klaus!” She admonished.

He was unrepentant. “I have not broken my word, I’ve not set foot in Mystic Falls.”

She scoffed. “Gee, I didn’t think I had to voice how not okay creepy spies are, Klaus. My mistake.”

Rather than reacting to her typical jab, Klaus responded with his unnerving brand of sincerity.

“I will not apologize, Caroline, for wanting some measure of the dangers in your life. Your friends aren’t exactly known for their restraint.”

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled, not having much defense against that. “That still doesn’t make it okay!”

“I’d rather your ire than your death, Caroline. Augustine, the Travelers, Silas? I admit I was a mere hairsbreadth away from breaking my word to you.”

Caroline coughed, flustered. She waved her hand in the air, as if he could see her trying to brush away the sentiment.

“Well, nevermind all that, it’s not why I called.”

She heard a door close and sheets rustle, Klaus having apparently retreated to his room to talk to her. Unbidden, imaginings of his bed sprang into her mind, before she quickly snapped herself out of it.

She cleared her throat. “Right, um, so actually I was wondering, if you had any traveling tips for Indonesia?”

“Indonesia?” He repeated, surprised.

“Um, yeah, I decided I wanted to get away for a little while. See a bit of the world and all that.”

“And college? Building a life for yourself with all your plans and the future and the things you want?”

She blinked, not having expected to hear her own words parroted back to her.

He continued, seeming to sense the direction of her thoughts in that uncanny way of his. “I remember all our encounters vividly, Caroline, and that day in particular is quite seared into my memory.”

She clicked on one of her forgotten tabs, absently reading the quick tips guide as she tried to calm her suddenly elevated heart-rate.

Her eyes froze on a line of black and white pixels, unsure of what she was even reading. Did she really want to keep doing this? Wasn’t she trying something new?

So, she took a breath and took a chance.

“I still have plans and things I want, Klaus. It’s just expanded to include some genuine beauty as well. After all I’m free, right? No longer bound by trivial conventions?”

Klaus sucked in a breath, and Caroline was pleased she could catch him off guard for once in this conversation.

“Yes, you’re free, Caroline,” he said softly, layers of meaning in his tone. The words sat heavy between them, the two feeling as if they were on the precipice of something.

And then he cleared his throat.

“So tell me then, what parts of Indonesia do you most wish to see?”

---

Caroline grinned, pink toe nails gleaming as she wiggled her feet in the smooth, hot sand.

She had been in Bali for a few days now, mostly indulging in its gorgeous beaches.

Of course Klaus had tried to steer her towards some of the more culturally enriched spots as well as a couple of the hidden gems he had come across in his own travels. But he had conceded (with some grumbling) to her desires to experience the more touristy attractions.

The beaches were first, just for their sheer relaxation factor, but she also had a list of temples, and Pura Besakih was one she was particularly looking forward to seeing.

And she may have casually mentioned that, perhaps, next time she visited he could show her his preferred places. That earned her another surprised breath and significantly less grumbling. (She was quite glad it wasn’t a video call though, her expression far from the cavalier attitude her voice implied).

Caroline shook herself from her thoughts, eyes glancing around to find the perfect spot to situate herself. Settling on one quickly, she then set it up to her liking. Towel, beach chair, beach umbrella (closed for the moment though, she wanted to bask in the sun first!).

Lounging in her chair, she shucked her shirt and sarong, leaving her clad in a light blue bikini. Sunglasses perched on her nose, she let her eyes drift shut, the sun warm on her skin.

---

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there for, but a frown pulled at her lips as a shadow fell across her.

Wondering which rude fellow beach goer was about to get an earful from her, she cracked an eye open.

Both eyes blew wide as she shoved the glasses up.

“Klaus?!” She spluttered.

He smiled.

“Hello, Caroline.”

...Should she be mad about this? Did she want to be mad about it?

As Caroline continued to stare at him, it was the tinge of uncertainty she saw that convinced her.

Pushing her glasses back down, she leaned back in her chair once more.

“Well,” she sniffed. “Don’t just stand there, you’re blocking the sun.” She held up her fingers. “Sun, sand, swimming, the three essentials of the beach. I won’t settle for just two of the three, Klaus!”

His smile turned into a grin as he quickly sat on her towel, leaning back on his hands as he turned to look at her.

“Lay down, Klaus,” she commanded. “This is quiet, relaxation time. We’ll talk later.” She hesitated before tacking on, “I’m glad you’re here though.”

...

“Don’t let it go to your head!”

Klaus grinned as he laid back.

Too late.

---

Author’s Note: Today’s title is “Fly Away” in Indonesian. Also le gasp, what’s this? Mid-TVD canon divergence?! Wow, I didn’t know I knew how to do that lol. Also the vagueness and timeline jumbling is because I quit watching after season 3 so everything I know after that point I’ve absorbed through fandom osmosis.

#Klaroline #KlarosummerBingo #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #Klaroline Edits #Klaroline Photosets #Klaroline Aesthetics #My Writing #My Edits

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wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 18

Chapter Summary - Danielle's migraine is so bad she enlists Emma and Tom to help her, and after she recovers, she goes to the Hiddleston household for dinner after, but what waits for her on her return home?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

When she woke, Danielle groaned, her vision was blurred and the small bit of light that was streaming in her slightly unclosed curtains made her want to cry as it caused the room to be far too bright. She shivered with the cold, even though her heating had been timed to come on for an hour already and she was under a heavy duvet. She seldom suffered migraines, but when she did, Danielle truly suffered. Feeling around her bedside locker, she found her phone and dialled the first number she could think of.

“Hey.” Emma’s voice seemed concerned. “You alright?”

Had Danielle not been so unwell, she would have known immediately that Tom had informed his sister that everything was not okay with their neighbour. “Em, sick. Please.”

“Right, I am coming in, just give me a minute to get mum’s key to yours, alright?”

“Quiet, please.” She begged.

“I gotcha, just two minutes Elle.” Emma hung up the phone and rang to find the spare key to Danielle’s house.

“What has you in a tizzy?” Tom asked, going over the lines for his upcoming cameo.

“Elle is as sick as a dog, she asked me to come over.”

Tom rose from the sofa. “Need company?”

Until that morning, the youngest Hiddleston would have declined her brother’s offer, but to say their friend had disclosed something personal to him, she decided not to. “Sure, you know what’s up with her more than I do.”

“She had a headache earlier, that had nothing to do with why she was feeling shit, though.”

“Then what did?” She asked.

“I am not telling you, that's Elle’s business to tell, but she has had a pretty shit night of it.”

“Could she have a stress migraine?” Emma asked, opening her friend’s door.

“If she gets them, then yeah, that could be it.” Tom noticed a note on the ground as they walked in, picking it up, he read it and his lip curled every so slightly for a moment when he realised it was a missed delivery for the local floral company. Knowing the conversation Danielle had had with her boyfriend earlier that day, he did not need to be Ben’s fictional character to hamper a guess as to who it was that had sent the flowers. He placed the card on the hall table and walked into the kitchen to get Danielle more painkillers.

“Elle?” Emma knocked on her friend’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?” When there was no response, she opened the door and peeked around it. “Elle?”

“Kill me.” The paramedic groaned from under the duvet.

“A migraine?”

“I want to die.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Emma stated quietly.

“Curtains.”

“Open or closed?”

“Close, please.”

“You are so demanding.”

“I’m dying.”

“You have a headache Elle, that’s a tad dramatic.”

“Dying.”

Tom chuckled as he heard the exchange from the hallway. “Can I come in?” he asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, I think we have a new entry for Oscars under Most Dramatic Paramedic.” Emma joked.

“Dying.” Danielle groaned again.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Tom chuckled.

“Fuck you, Hiddles.”

“Second time today.” Tom shook his head. “I have paracetamol and ibuprofen because I don’t know what one you had last.”

“What time is it?” Danielle forced herself out from under the covers a little, her hair stuck to her face.

“Afternoon,” Emma responded.

Tom checked his watch. “Half three.”

“Both.”

“Can you take both at once?”

“Yes, in extreme cases, like now, so gimme.”

“You are so demanding.” Emma threw her eyes up. “Why isn’t Paul here to nurse you, he is a doctor?”

Danielle glanced at Tom for a moment. “I didn’t tell her.” He stated.

Emma’s face fell. “Tell me what?” she looked between them.

“Thanks, Tom.” Danielle groaned, drinking water to wash down her tablets. “Paul and I are not speaking at the moment.” She stated plainly, before turning over. “Tell you more when I am not dying.”

Emma looked to Tom but he did not say anything, one it was not his place, and two, he was not overly keen at the pair making amends anytime soon, something he was sure his sister would try to assist on. Instead, he looked around Danielle’s room; it was the first time he had seen it since the day she moved in. He swallowed when he noticed a few items that were clearly Paul’s; the doctor had obviously begun staying enough for him to warrant supplies being left. “Do you need Mac walked?” he asked, not wanting to look at the room any longer.

“Shit.” Danielle had started to doze off again. “I need to ring work too.”

“Right, I will help you find the right number to ring, and Tom will get Mac tacked up and walked, alright?”

“You don’t have…”

“Nonsense. Sarah arrived half an hour ago and we haven’t had a chance to meet since…well everything, so she and I are going to steal Mac and take him out with us.” Tom smiled kindly.

“You’re the best.”

“I want that in writing.” Tom laughed and said his farewells to go downstairs. He opened the door to the back garden, where the dog eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but when Tom held out the lead and Halti in hand, Mac Tíre eagerly got to his feet and trotted over. “She’s not feeling too well today buddy, so I am taking you out instead.” Mac looked around the room for a moment, but with no sign of his master, he accepted Tom and sat for him to put on the head collar. It took a few minutes, but Tom figured it out, so going to his mothers, he asked his older sister to join him and the pair, with the eager dog, walked down the road.

Emma had Danielle in drink another glass of water to keep hydrated and made sure she had everything she needed before going back to her mother’s. When Diana heard what was wrong, she insisted that she be the one to check on her again just before dinner, and when she saw the young paramedic had just gotten out of the shower, feeling a bit better in herself, she insisted that she come over and eat with them, to ensure she was well fed. Danielle wanted to decline, feeling somewhat downbeat as she recalled her evening before, but Diana refused to take no for an answer, meaning she was as good as ushered, with her hair dripping wet to her neighbours house, but not before noticing the failed delivery card on the hall table, she pursed her lips when she saw it, but did nothing more regarding it.

“Sarah, you remember Elle, don’t you?” Emma joked as she saw her friend, looking slightly pale but a lot better walk into her mother’s kitchen.

Sarah, who knew well who Danielle was, but who had not seen her in a long time, came over and hugged her tightly. “Thank you for everything.”

Danielle stared wide-eyed, slightly scared, and patted her back, Sarah was the most mature and reserved of the Hiddleston’s and though she liked Danielle and how she was so close to her mother, she was never overly affectionate. “Okay, what?”

“For being brave enough to take on Tom and his pigheadedness, and for counselling my daughter, she just needed to rant and I was so angry I couldn’t be there for her in that way.”

“I just listened.”

“Which is what she needed.” She stated with a smile. “So thank you.”

“Well, I’m glad I was some help.” Danielle shrugged, not sure she should take any credit. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Are you ever not hungry?” Emma laughed.

“When I don’t have to cook, Fuck no.”

“Language!” Diana chastised.

“Sorry mother.” Danielle used Tom like a shield for fear Diana would come over to give her a small clip.

“I’m not taking a hit for you.” Tom tried to flee her, but she grabbed onto his shirt, “Let go.”

“Not a chance.” She laughed.

“How are you so strong?” Tom tried to release her grip.

“Work, Tri, sheer ‘not giving up’, you know.”

“Will you two ever stop messing; you’ll injure one another and then who’ll be laughing?” Diana barked, but the stern look on her face was not able to be taken seriously as her eyes showed her delight in her son’s return to form, as well as his playfulness that she feared was lost as a result of recent events. “Sit at the table before the food goes cold.” She ordered.

“Thanks, mum.” Tom’s eyes went wide at the small feast his mother had decided to feed them all. “And to answer your question on who’d be laughing, Elle would.”

“What?” She stared at him.

“You laugh when you get hurt.” Her brows rose. “You do, every time you bang into something, you end up in giggles.”

“No, he’s right.” Emma concurred, Jack nodding his head next to her, his mouth filled with food. “So Elle, are you going to say what happened with…” Emma stared at Tom who shook his head violently at her question.

“It’s fine.” Danielle looked to Tom, grateful he seemed to want to not upset her. “Paul and I had a disagreement with regards social construct.” She explained cryptically, Tom made a face beside her that showed that was putting it tamely. “As a result, he is currently in the ‘think about your actions’ box until I get a heartfelt apology at the very least.”

“You are a stern little mule, Danielle Hughes.” Diana sighed.

“But since I refuse to budge, look how few think it wise to try and argue me.” She grinned proudly.

“You won’t keep a man if you are always like that.”

“I'd rather be alone than with someone who can’t handle my stubbornness, it would only end up in someone’s death otherwise, and not mine.”

“Not to mention you know how, and have the ability and the strength to make it look like an accident.” Tom chuckled; she winked at him causing everyone to laugh.

“Thank you so much for dinner; I really needed a good meal.” Danielle hugged Diana as she went to go home for the evening.

“And a night off, you work too much sweetheart, you need to rest.” Diana looked at her worriedly, cupping Danielle’s face in her hands. “And whatever Paul did, I am sure it can be fixed.”

“That’s debatable.”

“For the right person, anything is possible.”

“The issue is knowing are they the right one, though,” Danielle replied, her smile a sad one.

Diana said nothing for a moment, but looked at her with a kind smile, not wanting to pry too much into something Danielle was not willing to share, grateful that she had at least spoken to Tom regarding it, and that he was safeguarding what she had said. “Just have some more rest, tomorrow will bring a lot of answers.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I can’t guarantee it bring answers, but some good rest always helps our minds with the important questions.”

“Need company home?” Emma asked, linking her arm in Danielle’s.

“I live next door.”

“Yeah, but still, I am going back first thing, Jack is working tomorrow afternoon.”

Danielle sighed dramatically and acted as though what Emma was asking of her was something highly taxing. “Fine, if I have to.” But immediately after she smiled at her friend.

“Bye Elle,” Tom called down the stairs, his voice indicating he had something in his mouth as he did.

“What are you even doing?” Emma shouted up.

“Brushing my teeth.”

“It’s eight o’clock!”

“I got a call for the Gucci campaign, I am their new face.” He chirped; elated at the call he had received after dinner.

“All the other eligible candidates get food poisoning or something?” Danielle jested, Emma erupting in laughter next to her.

“Funny.” Tom scoffed. “I have to be to Notting Hill by seven.”

“You’re already late, that was an hour ago.”

“You have way too many ‘Dad Jokes’ Elle.” Emma laughed.

“Ha, Ha. But seriously, see you soon Elle, and take care.”

“Bye Tom.” Danielle and Emma walked out the door, noting the drop in temperature since they had gone inside. “I’m not even sure if I can go to sleep tonight, I am not even tired.”

“You need to relax, though.”

“I can’t believe I called in sick, that is the first time since I came here, I feel like I was lying, I am fine now.”

“You were sick and you are still not fully right,” Emma stated factually. “Can I ask what happened with you and…Paul?”

Danielle froze and gave her boyfriend a stern glare as he stood looking at her in her driveway.

“Danni.” His voice was pleading.

“Paul.” She replied, her tone cold.

“Please Danni, can I just…”

“Why is he here?” Danielle indicated to Paul’s car, where Charles was looking out at her from the open door on the passengers’ side.

“He just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not interested in anything he has to say.”

“Elle?” Emma looked at her friend, noticing her anger rise.

“It’s alright Em; go back to your mum’s.” Danielle did not take her eyes off her boyfriend as she spoke. “Safe journey back to London.”

“I’ll call you when we get back okay?”

Danielle looked at her friend and gave her as big a smile as she could force. “Great, bye Em’s.” Emma left leaving her looking between her boyfriend and the man she would not be overly upset to see spontaneously combust in her yard. “I would offer you inside, but well, I am sure it is not quite Hampton Court Palace.” She stated sarcastically.

“Danielle.” Paul pleaded.

“Get in before I embarrass myself in front of my neighbours.” She forced through gritted teeth.

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 18 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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buttonpanels · 5 years

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So far, I’ve looked at the biggest shake-ups in comics status quos in the 2010s. Of course, I think those were important. They’re paradigm shifts that allow for different stories. But sometimes, you need to go smaller, and that’s what this is. This time, I’m going to be highlighting specific moments in comics that I feel were the best in the 2010s.

These can range from a single scene to a single panel, but they’re what I consider the best the 2010s have to offer. They might stand on their own or be the payoff for years of storytelling, but these are the ones that had the biggest impact on me as a reader. As a rule: it can’t be an entire issue. I’m also trying to avoid placing similar scenes on this list. So yes, it’s a loose criterion, but it’s mine. Anyway, let’s see what we have for arbitrarily ranked my personal best comic book moments of the 2010s…

15. “He was an Adventure”, Die #2

Die is a comic that embodies the best of Kieron Gillen. His knack for clever dialogue, interesting ideas, strong characterisation and self-aware contemplative narration are felt in every issue, bolstered by Stephanie Hans’ beautiful art. The concept of a role-playing game that sucks its players in is a bit derivative, but Gillen leans into the RPG side of things and really shows what an RPG made and played by a bunch of pretentious, conflicted teenagers would be like, and the world that would result. Nowhere is that better shown than when Dominic (or rather, Ash) reunites with Sir Lane.

After the cast return to their game as adults after having escaped it as teenagers, they run into immediate trouble. After dealing with it, the party discusses whether to take a horrible route to their destination or the one they used years prior, where everyone knows them. Before they can decide, Ash runs into an old flame of sorts — Sir Lane, a typical knight in shining armour who she was in a relationship with and said she would come back to. She teasingly cursed him so that he couldn’t rest until he saw her again, and now she’s come back… after over a decade and he’s a zombie. They’re forced to kill him, and decide to avoid taking the same path, lest they run into more from their past.

Die is a great series that captures the spirit and fun of RPGs while giving things just enough edge to feel interesting but not like the creative team is going out of their way to be edgy. This here is a great instance of that, bringing a dark edge to a fantasy cliché and taking full advantage of the setting and characters. The first issue of Die didn’t fully land with me, but this issue definitely did, with this dark and morbid scene and the poetic narration. Just a wonderfully executed moment.

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14. “You can’t help yourself… you are Apocalypse”, Uncanny X-Force (2010) #4

Here’s a moment that is heavily carried by the art. Rick Remender’s Uncanny X-Force is great, but this moment, which is otherwise not that spectacular, is elevated by an understated use of layouts and not only established that this would be a very different X-Force run, but the threat to come.

After the new, black ops and secretive X-Force team has hunted down the rejuvenated form of Apocalypse, they are at a crossroads when Psylocke refuses to allow them to kill the now child despot. The team debates before falling to infighting, before Angel finally gets the upper hand after wrestling with his inner demon, Archangel. When Apocalypse says he won’t become who they think he’ll become, Angel says he won’t be able to stop himself and goes in for the kill… only to hesitate… then Fantomex kills Apocalypse anyway. The team leaves with no fanfare or celebration.

The art is what really sells this scene. The fight between the X-Force members is well done and easy to follow, and the narration from Warren is executed very well with some great lettering, but that moment when Angel says that Apocalypse will always be a monster, and the art slows things down with wide panels and extreme close-ups and a peak into Warren’s soul, that is what sells this moment. It is a powerful pause in time that and scene that is emblematic of what the run would entail — wrestling with morality, nature vs. nurture and struggling with one’s inner demons.

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13. “I think about it every day”, Grayson #12

Grayson is a series I will never shut up about, because it just works so much better than it should. Taking Dick Grayson out of the world of superheroes and putting him in the more morally ambiguous and backstab-prone spy world allowed Tom King and Tim Seeley to get to the root of his character, and make it all the more satisfying when he returned to the world of capes and tights. Case in point: Grayson #12, where Dick reunites with the Batfamily. While every reunion is great, the one that was the bet executed in my mind is Dick’s reunion with Barbara Gordon.

Dick is reuniting with his family after his boss at Spyral forces him to come back to the organisation. She lets him get in his goodbyes, however. Having already spoken to an amnesiac Bruce Wayne, he went on to talk to Jason Todd and Tim Drake and gave them a gift of two batarangs, and is now talking to Barbara. Dick had previously run into her in his secret Spyral identity, but she didn’t really know it was him. He tries to explain why he did what he did, but she’s not having it and leaves. Dick jumps after her… off a bridge, and gives her the trapeze pole from when they swung together after she was crippled in The Killing Joke, and confesses all his unspoken feelings for her.

There’s really nothing more to this moment than that, it’s just Dick and Babs reuniting and Dick telling her what she means to him. It’s heart-warming and cute, and the whole “Cluemaster’s Code” that Dick is using — the first letter of every sentence will spell out the real message — is used really well this issue, but I like that Dick repeats himself when he says he’ll come back to her. It’s as if he’s willing to muddle the message and Barbara understanding it just to reiterate how important she is to him. This moment wouldn’t properly go anywhere, since Tim Seeley set Dick up with a new love interest in a terribly executed romantic subplot in his Nightwing run, but for a moment, one of the best relationships in comics got a moment in the sun.

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12. “You’re poison”, The Sandman Universe Presents: Hellblazer #1

Hellblazer is at its best when it acknowledges what a toxic influence John Constantine is on his friends and family. Very few people come out of their interactions with him unscathed, and his addiction to magic only guarantees that those around him will have a rough time of it. Nowhere is that better demonstrated than with how his long-time friendship with Chas Chandler ends, which ushered in a return to form for Constantine.

After coming back from a terrible future and promising his future self to live his best life, Constantine goes to visit his friend Chas. He learns that, since his absence, Chas has contracted cancer and is now in the cancer ward of a hospital. Upon his visit, he finds demons possessing Chas and goes to free his friend, using the bodies of other cancer patients, only for Chas himself to call John out on his years of being a prick, his abandonment and the fact that John gave him cancer. Constantine’s constant smoking in Chas’ cab is what it’s attributed to and he tells John to leave him alone and fuck off. John respects his friend’s wishes just before Chas dies and John is left truly alone.

Despite how their friendship ended, this issue also did a great job giving it something of a heart-warming ending… sort of, as in the future, John tricks Chas into essentially performing a magic suicide bombing, but Chas, ignorant of this, tells John that sometimes you need to step up and be a hero. Both scenes work together to show the nature of this friendship — Chas is a good person at heart and one whom Constantine values and trusts… but he’s still someone Constantine will manipulate, and who will call John out on his bullshit. It’s a fitting end to the character and a great way to kick off this new era of Hellblazer.

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11. “I thought you loved me”, Venom (2018) #11

The relationship between Eddie Brock and the Venom symbiote has always been some level of abusive, but whether or not it’s a romantic relationship has generally not been touched on where it can be avoided. Maybe it’s the idea that Venom fans wouldn’t want a gay relationship, maybe it’s fear of the repercussions of a negatively portrayed gay relationship — the symbiote is identified as male a few times, after all — or maybe it’s just weird that Eddie is in a romantic relationship with alien ooze. But in the end, it’s usually more allegory and not so much a literal romantic relationship… until now, and it is glorious.

After a handful of issues of the Venom symbiote lacking its voice and Eddie’s cancer resurfacing, the Maker is able to “fix” Eddie while he goes through his memories and learns that certain parts were fake — his sister and initial cancer diagnosis being the primary ones he focuses on. He confronts the Venom symbiote, which can speak again, about why it changed his memories and it says Eddie needed to need it. They argue and Eddie wakes up to protect Dylan Brock, who he has just learned is his son.

Eddie’s relationship with the symbiote has always been destructive and unhealthy, and Cates fully leans into that here. The symbiote has manipulated Eddie into staying with it, forced him to become Venom and lied to him about his son. It has fully become an abusive lover and the sheer superhero-ness of this scene lends it a sense of self-awareness in what could otherwise have devolved into melodrama. However, Donny Cates is still able to end the scene with such conviction that it carries all the weight it was supposed to.

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10. “Smoke the meat”, Animosity #7

The biggest strength of Animosity is Marguerite Bennett’s keen eye for worldbuilding. The basic premise of “what if animals suddenly became fully aware” is explored for all it’s worth, with small bits of worldbuilding that truly make the world of Animosity feel alive yet relatable. The way Bennett uses these little pieces of worldbuilding to craft a nuanced and morally grey story is what really sells this series, and nowhere is that more apparent than in Animosity #7.

The scene in question deals with the aftermath of a fight the main characters get into, where they run into some carnivores. While everyone else tends to their wounds and gets some rest, main dog Sandor and the cat Pallas go to deal with the aftermath. They find their dead friends and we learn what they’re actually doing, and that it’s not uncommon — they eat the corpses of the dead. This time, they bury their friends, but the other animals that were killed are eaten all the same, and this isn’t the first time Sandor and Pal have done this, nor is it expected to be the last, and Sandor reminds Pal that, when Sandor himself dies, to feed him to his owner Jesse.

The scene is a wonderfully dark revelation, in a story where we learned more and more about what Sandor will do to protect his owner. It plays really well off the previous issues and does a great job escalating the moral ambiguity of the story. It not only adds more moral complexity to the wider world of Animosity, but furthers the story and characters. Every part of Animosity feels well thought out, and this moment not only advances the world but the story, in an unexpected and dark way.

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9. “He has you and me”, Doomsday Clock #12

DC Rebirth was a relaunch that truly returned some of what the DC universe had lost that made it so great. It lamented the loss of love, legacy and optimism, all of which were indeed sorely lacking, and told a story of how corrupting outside forces altered the DCU’s history and characters to better reflect a cynical outlook. Well, Doomsday Clock finally ended last week, and for all its faults and the discussions that can be had concerning creator rights and Watchmen, I think it delivered on its promise — the return of love, legacy and optimism, the latter of which was best exemplified in the return of the JSA and, as a result, of the Legion of Super-Heroes and Ma and Pa Kent.

After Flashpoint, it was established that Clark Kent had lost his parents at a young age, after they were hit by a drunk driver. Even after the Superman Reborn crossover patched up Superman’s history to essentially be the post-Crisis one — with some New 52 stuff sprinkled in here and there — he still had dead parents. Doomsday Clock revealed that Doctor Manhattan had caused the Kents’ accident, in order to transform Superman into a more cynical figure that he could relate to. However, after Superman inspires him, Manhattan believes in the ideals of love, legacy and optimism and undoes his changes to the timeline — or at least most of them, since DC’s plans clearly changed as this story was being published — and the restoration of the Justice Society of America is what kicks things into gear. Not only are the JSA my favourite superhero team, but their existence now changes Jonathan Kent’s outlook — instead of a cynical, protective outlook that causes him to discourage Clark using his abilities, the JSA’s existence causes Jonathan to encourage Clark instead, and he saves his parents as Superboy. The emergence of Superboy in turn causes the Legion of Super-Heroes to exist again. And they save the day, and all ends well, and Clark goes to reunite with his parents.

This moment is the perfect pay off to the entire Rebirth saga. There’s some wonkiness here as a result of rewrites, clearly. The Legion of Super-Heroes, as written now, are not inspired by Clark as Superboy but by Jonathan Samuel Kent as Superboy helping to found the United Planets, but the dialogue pretends like this is the Retroboot Legion from a few years back. Ignoring that, however, this moment just works. After the darkest parts of the story, with Imra fading away and Johnny Thunder broken and defeated, Superman’s inspiration is what undoes the changes and brings those people back. The legacy of the JSA that creates a new world of optimism, one that extends into the far future, and the return of the Kents is just makes it that much more satisfying that optimism and hope won out. This is a perfect ending to the story that Geoff Johns began in 2016, one that embraces what the DCU is about, even through its various reboots.

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8. “I’ll still hold your hand”, Doom Patrol (2016) #1

Gerard Way’s Doom Patrol run is a bit uneven, at least if you read it as it was ongoing like I did (you know, when every issue after the second was released late). But the first issue is a great introduction to the Doom Patrol, and the opening scene does a wonderful job setting the tone for Way’s run and introducing a character who is probably one of the best audience surrogate characters in comics.

The scene is pretty short and simple, giving a quick intro to Casey Brinke as she drives an ambulance during her day job. The narration is what sells it, as it carries this sense of poetry and angst that feels like it has enough conviction to be done well. Casey’s narration doesn’t feel ironic, self-defeating or cliché, but oddly reassuring — fitting, given she talks about what her job means to her. There’s some fun, of course, helped by the cartoony visuals and the neon colours, but otherwise it is just a relatively quiet intro to a character.

This introduction to Casey really does set the tone for the rest of Way’s Doom Patrol run, the more modern, straightforward and character-focused run. While there are stranger elements, such as when Casey and Terry None (a woman) have a biological son together and the cult that wants to transport itself inside Crazy Jane, at its core Way’s run was about the characters moving forward with their lives and Casey finding a place on the team. This introduction is great for setting that up, especially since some of the poetic narration is actually literally true, which was a very unexpected twist.

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7. “Batman punches people in the face”, Batman (2016) #53

Tom King’s Batman run is a thoroughly mixed bag, but it has moments of brilliance. One such moment is during the “Cold Days” arc, where Mr. Freeze is on trial after being captured by Batman, and a jury discusses his potential conviction. All are in favour of a guilty verdict but one — Bruce Wayne, who laments Gotham’s worship of Batman. This moment is probably the best culmination of Tom King’s Batman run up until this point, and gave real hope that his run would recover after the controversial wedding issue.

With Mr. Freeze arrested and on trial, Gotham’s jury is quick to label him as guilty despite the lack of evidence. Bruce attributes this to Gotham’s hero worship of Batman that he compares to worship of a god, because of the jurors’ perception of Batman is all-knowing, with his will having power over life and death. When asked what Batman means to him, Bruce tells the jurors that after his parents’ deaths, Batman was something he could believe in to keep him going, something he could rely on to always be there and save him. Not anymore; now that being Batman has taken Catwoman away from him, Bruce has become disillusioned with Batman.

This moment, as understated as it is, does a wonderful job paying off what had come in King’s Batman run. Bruce’s suicidal nature, his reliance on Batman as a means of achieving peace, his own obsession to keep fighting as Batman and the recent dissolution of his engagement with Catwoman resulting from his need to be miserable in order to be Batman, it’s all wonderfully played off by this moment that gives the readers a peak into how his breakup has shaken his foundation and made him doubt Batman. King’s run has a lot of flaws, but every now and then it delivered a powerhouse moment.

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6. “A man shouldn’t…”, Redneck #16

Redneck‘s core concept is relatively simple: vampires in the South of America. Donny Cates milks this for all its worth, with engaging characters and interesting lore. But what makes Redneck great is the characters, and how Cates is able to imbue them with a real sense of life. After a long string of tragedies, Cates gives his characters a few issues to breathe, and the result is one of the best scenes of the 2010s that deftly defies expectations.

The central family of the Bowmans is given a chance to breathe after their home is destroyed, they are betrayed from within and their generosity almost gets them killed. One character who is given a bit of a spotlight is Greg, who we learn is gay and who has a cute fling with minor character Winny. They talk about it becoming more when the patriarch of the Bowmans, his father JV, walks in on the two. What follows Greg trying to calm his father down, who walks away in shock, and Greg assumes his dad isn’t okay with his sexuality and ends up verbalising it for the first time ever… and it turns out his dad was more shocked because, well, he just saw his son after said son had just fucked someone. The two bond for a bit and JV says Greg should do whatever makes him happy.

The scene is just a really heart-warming moment and well-done, in addition to playing with expectations. The southern dad having a problem with his son’s homosexuality is pretty played out, but this series has its roots in the south, from its characters to its dialogue, so it wouldn’t be out of place for that trope to be played straight — especially given that JV is very old. But Cates defies expectations — and rather than think that is what makes a good story, actually does something with it, delivering what one of my favourite gay scenes of the 2010s. Cates gets a lot of praise for his narratives, but I don’t think his dialogue and character work gets as much praise as it deserves.

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5. “Everything lives”, Secret Wars (2015) #9

Jonathan Hickman’s multi-series Marvel saga is a sight to behold. A grand story told across multiple series, spanning the entire Marvel Multiverse, the sheer scale of it is unprecedented and expertly executed. Secret Wars (2015) was the culmination of his Marvel work, but rather than a gigantic event that stood on its own, it — for better or worse — served as the grand finale to his saga and specifically an ending to his Fantastic Four run. Taken like that, it hits it out of the park.

Secret Wars (2015) follows the birth and destruction of Battleworld, a patchwork world created from the remnants of the multiverse by Doctor Doom. Doom saved what he could, but has taken to ruling over everything with an iron fist, and a surviving Reed Richards ends up fighting him for the right to fix the world — at great risk, possibly destroying what remains. The fight ends when Doom admits that Reed would have done a better job, and the Molecule Man ends the fight and gives Reed the power. There’s an epilogue where Valeria Richards explains what happened, but the last scene is of a smiling Victor von Doom, mask removed and face restored by his friend Reed.

This ending is a perfect ending to the themes of Hickman’s Fantastic Four run. The idea of believing in the future and not being fearful of saving what’s left, but instead building what comes next is the given a literalisation in the final battle between Reed and Victor. Reed and Franklin rebuild the multiverse together as one last act of father-son bonding, after the theme of fatherhood was so central to Hickman’s run. And, finally, Reed proves himself the better man, that his morality is what makes him who he is, as he gives Victor one last gift and a new lease on life, setting up stories for the future. This ending is so emblematic of all things good about Hickman that it was the perfect note for him to leave the universe on… but then he came back and reinvigorated the X-Men, and that’s also a great thing.

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4. “How could I ever forget you?”, DC Universe: Rebirth #1

It wasn’t too long ago that DC Universe: Rebirth #1 released and heralded the return of much of what made the pre-Flashpoint DCU so great. A return of love, legacy and optimism, Rebirth truly revitalised DC’s comics and moved things forward, while not neglecting the past. And it all took the form of the Flash fan from Blue Valley, Nebraska coming home.

After years of questionable output from DC, Rebirth was the much-promoted revitalisation of the line. It was leaked that Wally would be returning, but given that it’s literally the premise of the issue, it doesn’t really affect the comic — in fact, it probably got more people excited for the relaunch than anything (especially since they teased his return beforehand but excluded him from the Rebirth panel). And when Wally finally returned, it was glorious. Wally traverses the New 52 and laments the loss of what fans loved, while simultaneously embracing the new. And after Linda fails to remember him in this issue, Wally goes to say goodbye to Barry in a heartfelt monologue, and it’s possible this really was going to be the end for Wally, but then he’s saved from the Speed Force.

Wally is the perfect character to usher in the Rebirth era. He is a character defined by his connection to the Flash legacy, whose love for his wife Linda has saved him on countless occasions and he’s a character who has never been defined by the tragedy in his life. Wally is the character that was all about moving forward, embracing the new — he represents what was so great about the DCU. As a long-time Flash and DC fan, this was everything I wanted — essentially an apology for how these two things were treated for most of the 2010s. Johns’ dialogue is sentimental and earnest, and it really resonates as a result. There are a lot of meta moments like this in the 2010s, but this one landed with me the most.

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3. “Did we do a good job, son?”, FF (2011) #23

While Jonathan Hickman is known for his epic scope, I think what doesn’t get enough attention is his keen eye for human emotion. His aforementioned Fantastic Four run spans the multiverse, but at its core is about family. The larger than life scale of his run lends a grandeur to the sentiment, but in the end, the stories are about family — and it all ends with Reed and Sue talking to their son in his bedroom, before he’s gone forever.

There’s comic book science involved, obviously, but an adult Franklin Richards spends the day with his younger self before telling his past parents that he needs to return to his own time. What follows is a heartfelt, earnest scene that anyone who even has a passing interest in parenthood can relate to — Reed and Sue tell Franklin about their worries, their concerns if they did things right, and ask Franklin if they were good parents, and Franklin tells them yes.

Hickman’s Fantastic Four run was about the family, but a running element was Reed and Franklin’s relationship, and how they just aren’t similar. Sue expresses the concerns that a mother would express, but Reed getting to the root of it is a beautiful way for Hickman’s run to end. After he neglected Franklin and they’ve bonded, after he gained a broader view of his children, he’s finally able to reconcile his parenting with every other part of him.

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2. “You’re the fastest man alive!”, The Flash (2016) #50

Yes, another Wally West moment. After Wally returned in DC Universe: Rebirth #1, it was assumed by many that he would be given a greater role in the DC Universe. Instead, he appeared in a mediocre-to-bad Titans series where nobody seemed to know what to do with him. After several badly received stories, Wally was returned to the Flash book, where he was given a lot of prominence and importance, and Joshua Williamson showed a strong love and affinity for the character. Then came “Flash War”, a story that I dreaded for its tagline of “there can only be one fastest man alive”, and anyone familiar with DC’s heavily contrasting treatments of Wally West and Barry Allen can tell you why.

However… “Flash War” was great. It mined Flash lore for interesting ideas, tackled the plot point of Wally’s forgotten children when it seemed like writers forgot about them, and delivered a triumphant moment of Wally. As Barry and Wally start losing sight of a Speed Force-empowered Hunter Zolomon, Barry speaks the words that we all knew to be true — that Wally is the fastest man alive. Wally catches up to Hunter and, in a way that gets to the core of the character and what the Flash legacy means to him and to readers, defeats Hunter.

The epilogue issue that followed was also great, with some great meta-commentary, but I’m keeping it to one issue per series. So, make it an honourable mention. And sure, what followed “Flash War” for Wally was terrible and speaks of how badly creators can screw up characters, but for a brief time, Wally West was where he belonged — with his family, as the fastest man alive. Instead of Titans encouraging him to let go of his memories, The Flash has him embrace them and his past, because that’s what makes him who he is.

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1. “Dawn”, Silver Surfer (2016) #14

Dan Slott’s Silver Surfer run is a joyful ride through the strangeness of space and is a soaring tribute to the Silver Age. However, at its core, Silver Surfer is about the relationship between Norrin Radd, the Sentinel of the Spaceways, and Dawn Greenwood, an average girl from Earth. This moment typifies that in the best way possible.

After Norrin and Dawn travel to before the Big Bang, they are stranded and decide to live their lives there. They get married and Dawn eventually passes away from old age, and Norrin doesn’t. As the old universe dies, Norrin travels through the event and ends up in the current universe once again, throwing Dawn’s essence into the Big Bang, creating the signature red and black dots of the power cosmic from her ladybug motif. Later, we see that every species has the same word for the sun rising: “Dawn”.

This moment is a perfect ending to a perfect run. It is goofy and weird, but also epic and heart-warming, paying tribute to Jack Kirby’s art and honing in on what made this run so great. If Dan Slott’s Silver Surfer was a tribute to the Silver Age, this moment is a testament that, for all the high concepts and strangeness, the Silver Age was about joy and wonderment.

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There you have it, my personal best comic book moments of the 2010s. Probably nobody is going to agree with me on these, but these are the ones I liked the most. There were others, but I had to be a bit strict, so this is what is left. Hopefully the 2020s will have just as many good moments, and of just as high a quality. But I don’t know, I don’t have 2020 vision.

(Sorry).

As the decade comes to a close, I've decided to look at the best moments in comic books from the 2010s, a decade which delivered some of my favourite moments in comics. So far, I've looked at the biggest shake-ups in comics status quos in the 2010s. Of course, I think those were important.

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