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aristidetwain · 4 years

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The Author’s Dossier: “Remembrance of the Judicator”

@doctornolonger and @rassilon-imprimatur have both used their Tumblr blogs to write fun and informative “spotter’s guides” to the miscellaneous references in their licensed Faction Paradox stories. And, though they are of course further removed from Who than the further adventures of everyone’s favorite time-traveling goth cult, the adventures of Lady Aesculapius are indubitably another spinoff existing on the edges of the extended Whoniverse, no matter what a certain Wiki maintains. Besides which, I thought, “this looks fun”.

So while there may not be as much to say here as there might in future entries (fingers crossed on the existence thereof!), here is, without further ado, the official author’s guide to Remembrance of the Judicator, my short story from the Forgotten Heroines of the 10,000 Dawns 2020 April Fools’ Day event, available for free here. Obviously, this detail-attentive reread will spoil what little there is to be spoiled in this tale, so you should probably read it first if you haven’t already.

Enjoy!

REMEMBRANCE of the JUDICATOR

We kick things off with a classic “Phrase of the Creature” sort of title. The Phrase even begins with the letter “R”! This isn’t anything new ([1], [2], [3]) to the Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids series, but I’d be lying if I said that classic Doctor Who’s famous use of such titles wasn’t on my mind when I chose this one; in fact, one of Who’s most famous “Phrase of the Creature” titles used “Remembrance” as its Phrase.

And you know what? Much as we might all admire 1988′s Remembrance of the Daleks, I think my plot justifies the use of the term “Remembrance” far better than Ben Aaronovitch’s. What are the Daleks remembering, exactly? Or is it that some other party is remembering them? If so, who and why?

So I hope you’re happy with finally having a “Remembrance of the X” story where what the X remembers actually plays a big part in the plot. Because to do this, I gave up on “Prisoner of the Jud…icator”.

“So on the bright side,” began Ashlyn Oswin, straining against her bonds, “we're not back with the talking cats.”

Starting ruthlessly in medias res: now there’s a trick that comes more from Duck comics than from Who. 1950′s and 1960′s stories, be they by Carl Barks or Vic Lockman, had a tendency to open with splash panels of the main characters in a ridiculous predicament and trying at half-hearted banter despite the situation, which would then spark a flashback to how they’d gotten there in the first place. Not that I employed a flashback.

Because who has time for flashbacks when you can instead reference a delightful bit of Ashlyn Oswin’s official James Wylder-sanctioned story? In fact, that Ashlyn spent some time in a dimension of talking cats was one of the things in her condensed character bio that came with the submission guidelines for the Forgotten Heroines Takeover event. The story, if anyone’s wondering, is The Days the Cats Spoke, from 2015.

When Ashlyn says “we” aren’t back with the talking cats, is she just referencing that story and using a rhetorical “we”? Or did the Forgotten Heroines run into the same talking cats again at some point between Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot and the opening of this story? You decide!

“Everybody wants to be a c...” Miranda began to hum sarcastically. “Hush, you can't sing that here,” barked a guard.

It would be wrong to characterize Disney’s The Aristocats (1970) as a guilty pleasure of mine, in that actually, I wear my Aristocat fandom proudly. The Disney movies of the 1970′s are, I find, generally very underrated. They made up for the lack of showy big-budget effects with stellar character animation, great voice performances — and the earwormiest of earwormy tunes!

Pictured below: me, setting out to write this story.

Anyway…

“No copyrighted music, are we clear?” “If you think I give a damn about that sort of thing, you have another thing coming,” the mysterious traveller in all of narrative space only known as the Tourist retorted, trying to take a daring stance.

The Collective of the Retconning Crocodiles’ policies regarding recognizable songs turns out to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who’s tried to upload a YouTube video lately. And significance the Tourist’s flippancy at the idea of caring in the slightest about copyright is, of course, immediately made obvious by a slight twist on that classic “mysterious traveller in all of Time and Space known only as the Doctor” line from the Doctor Who Target novelisations, and not-so-recently made hip again by Missy in World Enough and Time (2017).

In other words, as a first draft of Lady Aesc, the Tourist belongs to the same long tradition of riffs and remixes of the Doctor Who formula, divergent stories which are very much their own characters and their own stories, but who are also very conscious of being just different enough from old Theta Sigma that the BBC won’t mind. Copyright, to her, isn’t some scary taboo to be bandied about by scaly bullies, it’s an ongoing game of cat and mouse.

Could... specimens of... of whatever species she was... drown like regular people? Clearly they could trip like anyone else. Or get chained up by sentient crocodiles like anyone else. The real question was, could you drown in a Time Sewer?

Just what is the Tourist, aside from a lovable grimdark prat? “Not a Time Lord”, say any lawyers worth their salt; as much a Time Lord as I can get away with making her, I suspect is more like what the younger James Wylder who made her up originally envisioned. Just like Aesc herself, the finished version of the 10k Dawns riff on the aesthetics of the Great Houses, namely the Firmament, would end up striking a perfect balance of the new and the familiar.

But in the meantime, the Tourist’s crew can get confused about whether or not she has a respiratory bypass system, albeit not in so many words.

I had mentioned some time ago, via in-character blog comments, that the Crocodiles get about through, and reside in, repellant Time Sewers. A take-off on that whole “alligators in the sewers of New York” thing, don’t you know? But this was the first time I took my readers into them and elaborated at any length on how they work.

The Tourist and her merry crew had stepped out in search of the fluid leak that was so rudely interrupting their lackadaisical rampage through the slice of omniversal reality known as the 10,000 Dawns, and been immediately set upon by—

Wait, liquid from the Sewers clogs up the Black Pyramid’s systems, and their response is to go out to look for a leak? Well, I’m sorry. But then, how else could I work in a reference to the reason that a certain rip-off of the Tourist had for stepping out of his own Ship back in Dr. Who and the Daleks (1965)?

If Pathway had been here, there might have been some hope. Things seemed to get suddenly more serious when Pathway was around. Possibly because of the katana. But, alack, Pathway was not here, being busy following a probable wild-goose-chase for a Numbered connection in Dawn 789.

In James Wylder’s Prototype, another story in the Forgotten Heroines Takeover which ran before mine, but which I hadn’t read when I submitted Remembrance of the Judicator, we see Pathway squaring off against one of the Numbered whose designation is… 789. Here’s the scary thing: I swear this is a coincidence. Dawn 789 was just supposed to be a random Dawn and I had no idea quite what the “Numbered connection” really was.

(Or did Wylder add that detail to his draft in reference to my story, even though his story happens first and was released first? Who knows!)

“You've kept us alive, so clearly we're valuable to you.” “You're not talking to a Centro stooge, you know,” Ashlyn muttered with a glare in Shona's direction, which was rather impressive as they were tied back-to-back. “Maybe these guys aren't even capitalists.” “I should say not!” grunted the Crocodile, waving its spear closer to them. “We are in fact a Collective! The Collective of the Retconning Crocodiles!”

Shona, like many other characters in the 10,000 Dawns series, has spent a significant of time fighting against the tyranny of various versions of Centro Systems, a world-spanning megacorporation who, in a lot of the Dawns, acts as a world government for whom capitalism isn’t just an economic system, but an actual political philosophy.

The Crocs aren’t meant to be actual communists, of course — in their case, Collective is to be taken in the more sci-fi-oriented, “Hive” sense of the word. But the joke was too good to pass up. And anyway, whatever they are, they’re not capitalists either, even if they do try to make people sign contracts.

“Oh? Isn't this part of the 10,000 Dawns?” Miranda asked with a disappointed pout. “We were rather heading for the 10,000 Dawns here.” “Yeah, we had a whole thing going,” Ashlyn concurred.

The “heading for the 10,000 Dawns” made more sense back when I imagined that this would be the crew’s first adventure after escaping the draft universes, rather than the last before the finale.

Still, it all worked out: my story ran immediately after Alex Wakeford’s Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot, where some enemies whose tech has more than a little in common with the Crocodiles’ accidentally sent Ashlyn to a certain battlefield in what was clearly the bona fide Doctor Who universe. And of course, White Canvas (2018) established (if it still needed establishing) that this world isn’t part of the 10,000 Dawns, though it has had contact with them.

So maybe, just maybe, Miranda is actually talking about their having been on their way back to the Dawns from Earth-5556…

“I'm only a humble guard,” the Retconning Crocodile answered, “I'm sure I wouldn't know.”

Wholly meaningless reference to a beloved bit of Doctor Who dialogue? Or a hint that however the Time Sewers work, it’s similar to how Gallifrey in the Stasis Cube worked? Who knows! …Not me.

“Ugh! I know!” she cut it off moodily. “But don't say it in front of them!” She gestured at Shona and Ashlyn. “Miranda's like me, but they — they don't understand metafiction the way I do.”

Take it away, The Inexplicable Adventures of Bob:

“Behind those shades and that too-cool-for-school attitudes, you're just another intruder.” “I am far more than just another intruder,” answered the woman with the pyramid. “I'm the Tourist.”

The only direct allusion to Remembrance of the Daleks in this story, title aside.

(“You’re just another Time Lord!” “I am far more than just another Time Lord.”)

“Even if I had ever been human,” the Tourist answered through clenched teeth, “which by the way isn't admission one way or another—my method of travel would have turned me into something... more than human, one way or another, by now. Also, shut up, didn't you hear the reptiles?”

When Doctor Who decided to retcon, in 1969, that the Doctor was from an alien civilization that only coincidentally resembled humanity, perhaps the most intriguing piece of canon that was lost was the suggestion in The Evil of the Daleks (1966) that it was the Doctor’s travels through Time and Space which had made him “more than human”. At the end of the day, that is where the EDAs’ concept of biodata got started, too, I think.

“A little chaos between friends is a wonderful thing,” the Tourist boasted.

Not only is the Tourist a bit of a Doctor clone, she’s an unwieldily sturm-&-drang, “darker and edgier” Doctor clone. Sound familiar? Yep, the Tourist thus finds herself (nearly) quoting Sacha Dhawan’s Spy Master from Spyfall (2020).

“Not in the eyes of the Firmament it isn't,” the Head Crocodile boomed, thumping his staff against the marble floor for emphasis, and the four realized that it had retconned itself into having held a staff all along, just so it could do that. “Don't you see? They'll never allow your wanton interference to stand. Before day's end, I expect they'll press a massive Reset Button on the entire thing. The entire thing.”

I think it was the idea of Lupan Evezan (@drleevezan), in The Frost King’s Treasure (2019), that the Crocodiles would have technological gizmos at their disposal which have the names of, and the ability to effect, various popular tropes. A literal Red Herring which briefly makes anyone who looks at it think it’s a major clue in whatever mystery they’re trying to solve, that sort of thing. Case in point…

(Do the Firmament also call it a Reset Button, or were the Crocodiles just phrasing it in a way that would make sense to them? I’m not the person to ask.)

“Hold on, you're just quoting the Judicator's introduction paragraph in the original 10,000 Dawns webnovel, aren't you?” the Tourist interrupted, unimpressed.

And they are, too.

“No!” cried the Head Crocodile as all the other members of the Collective collapsed back into him.

See what I meant about the sci-fi sense of Collective? The Crocodiles are plural, but they aren’t really a set of actual individuals, or at least not all of the time. Someday I’ll write a story explaining this in more detail.

“To come to its conclusions,” the Tourist explained, talking down to Shona slightly (to her displeasure), “the Judicator draws from a sense of morality and from every record it can find of every law ever passed in history. So, if someone were to, say, go back in time and spam all legal records with an overwhelming number of new laws, stating that we specifically have to be let go under all circumstances — well — its hands would be tied, wouldn't it?”

This is an obvious, twofold loophole that jumped out to me when I first read 10,000 Dawns: feeding every legal system ever into a computer wouldn’t really get you the perfect jurist, would it? It’d first risk getting a blubbering wreck who can’t deal with the mountain of contradictions between the laws of 11th century China and mid-19th century Holland; and even if you get past that, it’s liable to be polluted with a bunch of useless, anachronistic laws. Nonsense like laws against being ugly in public would take up unnecessary but uncrunchable space in its databanks.

Still, I suppose the “but also it has to act moral” element mostly rights the logic. Our heroines are only able to exploit the loophole here because they have limitless time travel and because, as the heroines, they’re assumed to be in the right opposite the Crocodiles and thus favored by the Judicator.

“Ugh, enough soul-searching!” Miranda suddenly declared, and sprayed a portal onto the nearest wall. “I don't know how long it is before day's done. But in the meantime, let's have some adventures.”

#The Author's Dossier

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kaijutegu · 6 years

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also, re: this exotic pet stuff- i have a lot of thoughts. like, a LOT of thoughts. so here’s some of them. behind a cut because this post is ridiculously long, rambly, and i don’t actually think it gets to a point. content warnings for existential dread, the insignificance of your place in the universe, and lots of uses of the word “fuck”

the exotic pet trade is massively complicated and you can participate in certain parts of it without being complicit in others because there’s different definitions of what “exotic” means, different economic markets drive different collection practices. demand for tropical fish in the united states has no impact on demand for pangolins in china or demand for big cats in the united arab emirates.

the problem with an international trade is of course that it’s international, and nations don’t agree on what the appropriate steps are to preserve the environment. a lot is put on the shoulders of individual citizens but honestly individual action is never going to work- even if it works in one area, if tomorrow everyone in the US made a solemn vow to never buy an exotic animal? that messaging isn’t gonna hit the UAE or resonate there, you’re still gonna see rich oil dudes on insta with their lions. THAT SAID, this is not an endorsement or instruction to go out and buy a lion, but kind of a... a warning, maybe? like, don’t feel like you gotta save the world. you can’t. you’re one person and you don’t have the power to do so. sorry if that’s kind of existentially depressing, but maybe take it as a relief, that the universe doesn’t demand this from you. you aren’t the chosen one. nobody is.

also, the exotics trade is heavily tied with what we call “development” in the global south- which very often looks like western corporations stealing land, stripping resources, and making animal smuggling a much more lucrative and feasible financial opportunity. loggers go in, cut down trees; poachers move in and swoop everything that’s still alive. there’s ways to do this sustainably- like, if you look at the hospitality industry as it’s developing in rwanda, it’s actually taking good care of both the people and animals in the areas where they allow gorilla tourism- but they’re doing this on purpose, they are actively taking slower economic growth because they recognize that their environment is an important natural resource. the global abuse of these countries and (especially their indigenous) people also contributes to this- that’s the thing about environmentalism, everything is SO connected that all the parts play into the other parts. so there’s that, too- which of course brings up all the problems with capitalism as a global financial system that doesn’t show any signs of being stoppable, etc.

it’s kinda silly to paint everything with a broad brush because not every species has the same needs and requirements and same impact on the ecosystem- but also people need to take a step back and maybe look at what they’re arguing for and against. “exotic” is a scary word- or an enticing one- and there’s a lot of just... general logical fallacies being lobbed all over the place. and who knows, maybe i’m totally wrong, or you don’t agree with my take on things, and that’s ok. but the broad brush approach a lot of people are taking isn’t really working. there’s a massive difference between keeping a parrot and keeping a ball python. there’s an enormous difference between keeping a king cobra and a kingsnake. keeping a goldfish and an alligator gar aren’t even on the same planet as far as both being ethical. you gotta be careful with your messaging- if you try to say “everything is bad,” value of messaging gets lost in details.

and just- be realistic. lots of people say “but what if you had a tank this size” and come the fuck on, nobody has a tank that size. look at the people keeping alligator gar. for the most part they’re doing it in the smallest tank size possible. first video on youtube has a gar in a tank that it can’t even turn around in- and the top comment is “I would agree that the fish tank is not optimal for a fish that can grow as large as an alligator gar but there is no denying this video is awesome on many other levels. The fish obviously enjoys the affections of its keeper & that was really something to behold!”

which is one of the worst things that could be said in this situation because it justifies this poor fishkeeping with perceived emotional value for the fish. it doesn’t matter if the fish enjoys the attention, the fish is in a tank it can’t turn around in. sometimes we- people, animals- enjoy things that aren’t good for us, and if we’re going to take care of an animal, we don’t just get Good Person Points for bringing it into our home. we gotta actually provide for it. if it’s gonna be in human care, it needs to have a life substantially more fulfilling- safer, better, healthier- than it would in the wild. this is true of all animals. it’s easier with the domesticated ones because we bred them to thrive under human care, but the thing is:

not every animal does well in human care.

some animals pose dangers to humans. if you’re going to work with venomous snakes, ask yourself why you want them. because you’re a herpetologist? because you want to milk them for venom? because you admire their intelligence and appearance? what’s the real value of that animal and its care to you? and i don’t wanna play holier than thou because i don’t keep hots, it’s a legit question. why are you keeping these? are you providing them a good life, or do they live in little drawers? if they live in drawers, what’s the point? nobody is entitled to a cobra or a tiger or a serval or a loris. you don’t “deserve” these animals, they’re not a prize handed out for being human.

it’s also patently ridiculous to think that the exotic pet trade DOESN’T affect endangered species.

http://www.nocturama.org/en/wildlife-trade/

https://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/02/160226-animal-trade-animal-welfare-exotic-pets-cites-wildlife-trafficking/ (please don’t take this inclusion of an endorsement of cliff warwick and his research practices; the man treats stats like playdough and willfully massages data- or endorsement of any of the animal organizations mentioned that aren’t specific to reptiles, as i just- i’m tired, you guys, i’m so tired, i’m tired and old and can’t know everything about everything)

https://theconversation.com/trading-in-extinction-how-the-pet-trade-is-killing-off-many-animal-species-71571 (some ehhh opinions, but a bunch of good sources)

i mean, there’s a lot more, but it’s not super hard to google, y’know? just time consuming, because you gotta have a look into where the data’s coming from to know if you can trust it or not.

and that’s not to say that all of the data’s right on exotic pets- the one thing that goes around all the time about reptiles dying within their first year at home is cliff warwick’s “numbers mean what i want them to mean” paper (yes there’s a bit of a vendetta here, that paper’s so poorly done)- but for people who truly love wild animals, you gotta be aware that they’re not coming from nowhere. if conservation’s your aim, be realistic. you’re not getting that parrot because you love macaw conservation- your pet ownership does nothing for macaw conservation. now, if you were a properly staffed and vetted macaw sanctuary? a scientific program breeding macaw species for reservoir populations in facilities equipped to care for them? that’s another story, but that’s also not what people are doing. don’t use conservation to justify your petkeeping if it does nothing for conservation. this is something i'm guilty of- when people ask me about my tegu, i always talk up the conservation angle- but she’s also an animal that thrives in human care, unlike macaws, which... usually do not.

also, just because species do breed readily in captivity doesn’t mean they actually are captive bred. like, indonesia and its tokay geckos- indonesia has export permits for 3 million live tokays a year. but there’s not enough facilities for that, so wild tokays are basically laundered through the captive breeding facilities. https://news.nationalgeographic.com/2016/01/160106-tokay-geckos-indonesia-traditional-medicines-wildlife-trade-traffic/

that’s not to say you can’t keep a tokay ethically- just make sure you KNOW where it comes from. buying from a breeder who can show you proof they produced the animal helps.

there’s also a lot of people- and i’m guilty of this too- who saw that post and went “but i’m one of the GOOD exotics owners, i can justify the keeping of this animal in this specific circumstance”- and hell, maybe you can. i think my tegu’s perfectly justified and i have exactly zero moral or ethical qualms about keeping her- but she’s demonstrably thriving in human care. i didn’t get her because i wanted something unusual- but here i go again, justifying. i don’t owe anyone an explanation- except myself. and her. i'm not gonna say “I can have this for these reasons, but you can’t.” if i get some question in my askbox about it, i might answer it with my “well, actually, i did take environmental ethics into mind, let me tell you exactly what removing a healthy female tegu from that particular invasive breeding population does” spiel, but i’m not obligated to do that.

what i am obligated to do is internally consider who benefits and who’s harmed by my actions and make my decision based on that.

if i had a parrot, i might benefit from the enjoyment of the parrot- but the parrot would be harmed because that’s just how parrots work, they have social needs i could not meet. the environment might be harmed, if that parrot was wild caught.

and then consider: does my benefit outweigh the harm? you’ll see this as a frequent criticism of eating meat by vegans, but you gotta think big picture here. i’m not saying don’t eat meat; i’m saying be aware of what your participation in this practice does for the world. we’ve already fucked it hard with agriculture- all mass-scale commercial agriculture, plant and animal alike, has Fucked This Planet Up. and we can’t fix it. we won’t fix it. because it’s too valuable to too many people, nobody is going to fix it. The systems that exist won’t be dismantled easily, and- fuck, i didn’t mean to get into politics like this, but anyways.

your exotic might not belong in “the wild.” there might not be a safe wild for it. but. that doesn’t mean it belongs in your care. whether you’re able to provide for it or not depends on so many factors- and provide means “will it thrive,” not “will it live.” will it be able to express species-specific behaviors?

i kinda feel like people are just... not thinking critically, and willfully not wanting to recognize the needs that certain exotic species have. people will go “but what about THIS species and THIS circumstance” and it’s like... think critically, please? recognize that there’s no one hundred percent black or white clearcut answer and that this very much is a topic people get really upset about- and that’s ok! it’s an upsetting topic and well, what can you as an individual do about a lot of it?

perhaps maybe, nothing. nothing on a big scale, at least.

but you can control you and what you do. and that, surely, is something.

#long post #i'm having feelings and i don't like them

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saultnpeppah · 6 years

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Curious and Innocent

And here is my piece for Day 2 of WonderBatMilestones: Teammates/Friends. The rest of this series will take place in the DCAU, starting from A Warrior and ending with some of my already written pieces. This one focuses on the teammate aspect. Hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: AS ALWAYS I DO NOT OWN JUSTICE LEAGUE OR ITS CHARACTERS.

Batman worked alone….at least that's what he had always told people, and for a while it had worked for him. He knew it was his fear of attachments, his fear of losing someone he cared for after witnessing the murder of his parents at the tender age of eight. However, it wasn't long before he broke and allowed someone in, finally allowing himself the opportunity to allow some happiness in his life.

The first was Dick. Having become an orphan at nearly the same age as him, Bruce knew he had to take him in. He had to show Dick that his life could not revolve around avenging his parents' deaths. Instead, he took him under his wing and trained him, forcing his anger into motivation, and when he was ready, Dick became the first Robin, fighting alongside Batman in the streets of Gotham.

After Bruce came Jason, and although his time fighting alongside Batman was much shorter than Dick's, he taught Bruce the importance of accepting things you can't change. After Jason's death, Bruce had retreated back into his cold shell, building up that emotional wall that even Alfred was barely able to penetrate. Then came Tim.

After saving Tim from execution at the hands of Two-Face, Bruce knew he had to help him. He had nothing, and Bruce knew that feeling all too well. So he trained him as his third Robin, working hard to establish a trusting partnership that would last.

Unfortunately that's where his ties seemed to have ended, until the day he stepped into Metropolis and met none other than Clark Kent, skillfully disguised as a reporter, but unable to hide behind the glasses for long. Bruce would say their interactions were nothing more than respected colleagues, both fighting to keep the world safe, but he never anticipated working side by side with him on a weekly basis. That was, until, the invasion.

That damn invasion. The Imperium had come ready to take over the world, having disguised one of their own as a former astronaut, having him become a U.S. Senator. With his newest position, Senator, or who everyone thought was Senator Carter was able to weaken the world's defenses, allowing the Imperium easy access to Earth.

That's where the Justice League, a collaborative team of superheroes, came in. The seven of them were able to save Earth from the Imperium, and after deciding they needed to ensure the safety of Earth from further attacks, they formed the League: Batman, Superman, The Flash, J'onn J'onzz, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl, and Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman. She had been the only unknown to have joined the fight against the Imperium, and although she had agreed to join the League and protect Earth and mankind, Batman was still skeptical of the woman. He had been careful to trust the Amazon, unsure of whether she was still a threat or not. Sure, she had helped them during the invasion, but that did not mean he could allow his guard down around her. With every other founder, he knew at least some information of their personal lives, but with Diana he knew nothing besides what she decided to share. Which is why he found himself crouched next to her, carefully watching her as the two surveyed the open area in front of them.

The Smithsonian National Zoo had received threats from animal activists, who wanted the release of their newest white alligator. They had threatened the employees on more than one occasion, and after breaking in a week prior to get the message across, authorities knew they needed to call in the big guns. It also didn't help that there were others who were just waiting to get their hands on that alligator, wanting its skin as a trophy.

Superman, wanting to assure the public that they could trust the League with all matters, decided to help, much to Batman's dismay. He didn't believe the League's resources should have been tied up with such small matters, especially when there was always trouble brewing in Gotham, but he had promised Clark he would help the team when they asked. So, he found himself in the zoo at night, waiting and watching for any signs of a break-in, an irritated Amazon besides him.

The team had decided to split up, covering multiple exits to ensure they stopped the theft. Superman, knowing he could handle anything that was thrown his way, decided to guard the alligator, hoping he would only be needed as a last line of defense. Green Lantern was surveying the West end near the big cats and The Flash was in charge of the North entrance, keeping the bears and penguins company for the night, which left the last entrance on the South end to be covered by Wonder Woman, and Batman, who had volunteered to supervise Diana. He was curious about her, but more importantly, he was worried how she would do on her own. After all, she had only been on, what she referred to as Man's World, for five months, so he wasn't sure how she could handle a situation.

He heard Diana let out a small groan, turning to look over Batman's shoulder before she stood. Her shoulder gently hit the branch above them, shaking the tree slightly, forcing Batman to throw her a glare over his shoulder. "Could you keep it quiet?" Batman growled. His voice was deep and menacing, and although he knew he should have been nicer to one of his teammates, he still didn't trust her. He watched as she narrowed her eyes, glaring at him hard as she placed her hands on her hips. She was hard headed, and stubborn, and….god she was beautiful.

He watched as her bright blue eyes stared at him, angry that he felt the need to babysit her. She was a warrior, and had been alive much longer than him. She knew how to take care of herself. "Are you always so friendly?" she asked with a grin. She watched as he clenched his jaw, irritated with her, before she let out another sigh. What had happened to the Batman who she had fought alongside during the invasion? He was at least admirable. This Batman was….well he was a jerk. Why, she didn't know, but being stuck with him afforded her one opportunity she hadn't had previously: she was alone with him, and she was going to get him to talk.

"Why the bat?" she asked as she leaned against the trunk of the tree, crossing her arms over her chest. "Favorite animal?"

She watched as Batman turned to glance at her, shaking his head, before he turned back to stare at the open space before them. "You know I don't need a babysitter," she said, watching as Batman shrugged slightly, before he retrieved a small pair of binoculars from his belt. He was silent for a moment, carefully studying the habitat before him, before she let out another sigh. "You don't trust me," she stated.

Batman turned to face her, the whites of his cowl narrowing as he contemplated how to answer her. No, he didn't trust her; he didn't trust anyone. But the reality was, he knew nothing about her, and that scared him. Batman was a detective, never rushing into a situation without a carefully formulated plan and extensive research about his adversaries. When he had first encountered Superman, he knew what his biggest weakness was, and even before meeting the other members of the League, he knew how to stop them should they ever choose to switch sides, or be compromised, but it was Diana that made him nervous. He knew nothing about her, and without any prior knowledge of her, he was scared of what she could do.

He had seen her fight enough to know the powers she possessed, and a few careful observations had shown him some of the things he needed to know. She was strong, and fast, and a very skilled fighter. She healed quickly and had incredible stamina, and although he had only heard her speak a handful of times, he knew her mind was one of her best assets. She was as smart as she was beautiful, and that worried him immensely; if she ever decided to turn against them, they wouldn't stand a chance.

"I don't know you," Batman calmly stated, flashing her a grin when he saw her raise an eyebrow, confused by his words.

"You know I helped save Man's World. You know it is my mission to continue to help save Man's World. I never lied about my intentions, and yet you continue your distrust of me." She watched as Batman placed the binoculars back into his belt, subtly stretching his back as he shifted on the branch. "If I truly was going to betray you all, I would have done it using all that fancy technology in the Watchtower."

Batman took a seat on the branch beneath him, sitting upright as he stretched his spine once more, before he turned to glance at Diana. "And what do you know of technology?" he asked. "I thought that island of yours was very primitive."

Diana pushed off of the trunk of the tree and took a step towards Batman, carefully taking a seat next to him on the branch. She watched as his shoulders tensed. "I'm a fast learner," she said with a smirk. "You would know that if you spent more time on the Watchtower."

Batman scoffed. "I don't have time to hang around the Watchtower," he explained, "I'm needed in Gotham."

Diana turned to look at Batman, who was trying his hardest not to look at her. Instead, he glanced down at their arms, which were touching slightly, and tried to avoid the blush that was creeping on his cheek. He clenched his jaw once more, confused by what was happening. The Batman did not blush.

"May the gods help whatever woman tries to get between you and your precious Gotham." She let out a small chuckle, her smile growing wider when she noticed Batman's lip curl up slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, however the two heard the faint sounds of deep hums and snorts.

Batman quickly stood to his feet, his hand reaching into his belt to pull out a batarang. He watched as Diana's hands clenched into fists, ready for a fight, before he grabbed his grappling gun. He aimed it at the roof across from them, ready to fire, when he heard Diana gasp. "Great Hera," she whispered, hopping off the branch and making her way to the ground, carefully hovering over the dirt as to not disturb the animals that had come out for a midnight walk.

"Diana," Batman whispered, trying to stop her. He didn't want her to startle the animals and cause a scene. It could give away their whole operation.

Diana, ignoring Batman, continued to hover closer to the animals, enthralled by the creatures that stood before her. They stood tall, their lanky legs carefully walking through the dirt, as their long necks reached into the tree Bruce stood in, trying to get in a quick nibble.

He watched as she got closer to the giraffes, a smile on her face as she carefully watched their faces for any sign of distress. "My, you are wonderful, aren't you," Diana said, slowly flying up to one of the giraffe's faces. She carefully reached out to touch it, silently asking for its permission to continue, before it grabbed her hand with its long tongue, forcing a laugh from the Amazon.

Batman watched as the giraffe let Diana gently stroke its head. It paid no mind to Batman as it took another few leaves from the branch he stood on, carefully nibbling on its meal. He opened his mouth to speak, however the loud sound that shook the tree, startled him, forcing him to grip the trunk of the tree, fearing he would fall.

He watched as Diana turned her head to the left, her smile growing wider when she saw the owner of the noise. "Thank you friend," Diana whispered to the giraffe, before she flew over to the next habitat. She carefully made her way inside, slightly hovering over the wet ground, not wanting to get her boots covered in mud, as she stared at the large creatures as they made their way outside.

There were three of them, and although they were large and moved slowly, they moved with grace. The large ears on their head flapped with each step they took, but what enticed Diana the most was the long protruding noses attached to their faces.

She watched as the two older creatures began to socialize, walking towards the small pool of water, as the smaller baby trotted slowly behind them. She carefully moved toward them, stopping only when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to face Batman, watching as he reattached his grappling gun to his belt, before she offered him a smile. "What are they called?" she asked, nodding towards the creatures, as she landed on the ground next to him.

Bruce watched as the two older animals stepped into the cool water, carefully letting their trunks gather some water, before spraying their back. "Elephants," he said, watching as she nodded, still watching their every move.

"I've seen depictions of them in books, but never imagined them to be so majestic." She took a step towards the trio of elephants, her eyes wide with awe.

Batman watched as Diana stared at the animals, unable to help the smile that was creeping onto his face. Seeing her in this moment, so enthralled with the creatures before him, made her look like a sweet, curious, and innocent child. She reminded him of himself, back when his parents had taken him to the zoo in New York, and for the first time since meeting, he felt like he had something in common with her. Seeing her standing there, a wide smile plastered on her face as she watched the baby elephant join its mother in the pool, carefully spitting water from its trunk, suddenly made him realize maybe she wasn't as big of a threat to him after all.

He watched as Diana took another step towards the elephants, his smile fading when he realized what she was planning on doing. "Diana, don't," he warned, reaching for her hand. He knew they could be gentle creatures, but he also knew they could get aggressive, especially when it came to their young.

Diana ignored him and took another step towards the animals, carefully locking eyes with the biggest of the trio. She gave it a small nod and flashed the elephant a smile, letting it know she meant them no harm, before she took another step towards them, stopping when her boots hit the edge of the pool.

The three animals stared at Diana, neither wanting to make the first move. They silently stared at each other for a few moments, before the larger two turned and continued to bathe themselves with the cool water, letting Diana know she was welcomed to stay. She took a seat on the edge of the pool, letting her legs dip into the cool water, as she watched them. She turned towards Batman and offered him another smile, before she patted the spot next to her, silently asking him to join her.

He took a step towards her, stopping when he saw the baby elephant rush up to Diana. It stopped in front of her, its mouth slightly open, allowing her to see the small tusks that had begun to form. Diana quickly reached her hand out and stroked its head lightly, letting out a hearty laugh when he decided to use his trunk to stroke her face.

Batman watched as Diana gently kicked her leg, sending some water onto the calf, before it turned in a circle and let out a small snort; he was laughing, playing with Diana. The calf dipped his trunk into the pool and collected some water, before raising it and shooting it out of his trunk, showering the Amazon with the cold liquid, earning another laugh.

He stared at her, his tight face relaxing when he heard her laugh. Had she always had such a beautiful laugh? It only seemed fitting for someone as gorgeous as her. He quickly shook that thought out of his head as he made his way to Diana, stopping next to her. He was a bit apprehensive about being this close to something that weighed upwards of three tons, but he knew Diana wouldn't let anything happen to him, no matter how cynical he had been earlier. "Having fun?" he asked, watching as she grabbed her hair and pulled it to the side, carefully ringing it out, before she threw it back over her shoulder.

"I am," she answered with a grin. He watched as the elephant wrapped its small trunk around Diana's waist and nuzzled its head into her chest, before she let out another laugh. "You need to lighten up," she said, gently patting the calf's side.

She watched as Batman grumbled something inaudible, as the calf dipped his trunk into the pool once more, however when he pulled it out, Diana was not his intended target. He carefully aimed at Batman, spewing every ounce of water he had stored up, before he trotted away towards his mother, leaving a soaked, annoyed Batman, and a jubilant Diana.

Batman quickly wiped his face with his gloved hand, carefully glaring over at Diana who had a smug smirk on her face. "Did you tell him to do that?" he asked.

He watched as she stood from her place at the edge of the pool and wiped some water off her shoulder, before she turned to face him. "Are you insinuating I can talk to animals?' she asked, taking a step towards him, watching as he stood still, his face turning stern. "I can assure you, I did not have anything to do with that," she replied, "Maybe he got tired of your brooding."

Batman opened his mouth to speak, shutting it quickly when the two of them heard Superman's voice through their com links. "Superman here," he said, the urgency in his voice apparent, "I could use some assistance at the reptile room."

Diana and Batman looked at each other, before they dashed out of the habitat, quickly going over the fence and onto the main trail. They made their way to where Superman was, bursting into the door to see him restraining two would-be thieves. To his left stood The Flash, assisting with the third thief. On his right laid the white alligator, its eyes staring at Batman, debating whether or not he would make a great dinner.

Batman took a step back, watching as the alligator advanced towards him. His heart stopped when the alligator opened its jaws, showing Batman the rows of sharp teeth. Batman quickly took another step back, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw a bright green bubble encase the alligator, stopping any further attempts on his life. "That could have been nasty," Green Lantern said, forcing Batman to look up at him and nod his thanks.

"What do we do with the big guy?" The Flash asked, speeding up to Diana, stopping next to her in an attempt to impress her yet again.

Batman glanced over at the speedster and groaned internally. When would he learn that dating within the team was going to cause more harm than good. Most importantly, when was he going to learn Diana was not interested in him? He quickly shook his head free of the thought. Who Diana was interested in was no concern of his. After all, the only reason he had come on this mission was to make sure she didn't screw things up. But after seeing her so enticed, like a child on Christmas morning, and hearing her beautiful angelic laugh, he couldn't help but think maybe Flash had the right idea. Who wouldn't be able to stop themselves from going after her?

"Ask Dr. Dolittle," Batman mumbled to himself, before he turned on his heel and walked out, causing Diana to chuckle. She had heard his comment, and although she had wanted to reply with a snide remark of her own, she had decided against it. He was having a bad night, she could at least be nice and not make it any worse.

Batman left the room, his boots squeaking against the tile floor as he left a trail of water behind him. "What happened to him?" The Flash asked, turning to Diana for an answer.

Diana smiled, remembering the calf and his assault on Batman. She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, deciding to keep that memory for just the two of them. "I don't know," was all she said, before she walked out of the building, knowing after tonight, he would learn to trust her more.

@fyeahwonderbat

#wonderbatmilestones #wonderbat #wonder woman #batman #stakeout #zoo

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louthegreatfurrry · 6 years

Text

And I just finished my part of art trade two, this one ALSO with the awesome @justafictionalthing !! This post doesn’t cover the full trade yet, as this one was one piece from me and several pieces from her, so I’ll add the rest of the pictures when I receive them.

THIS is the first picture, a fanart of my fanfic “Be my Flower, be my Sun”:

Drawing two; self-indulgent hug because everyone has bad days.

Drawing three; Marvin with wings for my fanfic “broken wings”

Drawing four, for my fanfic Into Enemy Land (A Harry Potter crossfic; as you can see both Claus and Marvin are headcanoned snakes)

Drawing five, also for my fanfic Into Enemy Land.

Drawing six... also... for my fanfic Into Enemy Land (i like this one okay)

As always, art trades are open!

You can find the 6k Megamind fanfiction underneath the cut.

When you’re an incredibly handsome criminal genius you end up inventing and building a lot of technical machines – some big, some small, some neither. You sort of have to be used to your inventions backfiring. And Megamind is used to it.

But this time it’s different.

The machine is a big beast of wrenched and warped metal, and when it fails, sharp blue light explodes from the engine in a shockwave of chaos and distant shimmer.

The force of it throws Megamind off-balance – he falls to his knees to brace himself, and in the process his cape wraps itself around his head –

by the time he manages to straighten himself up again, the string has already tied itself around his thumb.

The blast of iris blue light had spread across the whole globe, allowing billions of people to see the strings; both their own and others. Suddenly thousands of red threads connect the people of Earth – and no one has any idea why.

Until someone manages to pinpoint the source of the blast to be Metro City.

Megamind becomes the number one suspect, mainly because of the color of the blast.

He’s ready to ignore it all, to just continue on as normal and let the humans figure it out themselves, but a young adult posts a video on YouTube, asking him for an interview. “Not anything about your career,” promises the young interviewer, “just about this recent development of… you know.” They hold up their right hand – a string is tied around their index finger. “Promise,” they add, shooting off a charismatic grin towards the camera.

Megamind agrees, but only because they seem to perform well under stressful situations.

(The stressful situation being ‘talking to Megamind, incredibly handsome criminal genius and master of all villainy’, of course.)

(it’s the grin; it’s absolutely the grin; anyone who can grin when faced with Megamind must be able to face death itself without a flinch)

“We have established that this phenomenon can be traced back to you, Megamind. But the thing we’re all wondering about is,” the interviewer says, looking comfortable and at ease in their chair, “do you have a string?”

(do you, not who is it linked to)

(are you capable of love, not who do you love)

(are you worth loving, not who loves you)

Megamind glances down at his hand. A string is tied around his thumb, loose enough to not hurt but tight enough to stay in place –

“No,” he says, voice steady though it wants to shatter.

(it’s better this way.)

The humans’ strings are red; fierce red, like embers glowing in the night.

Megamind’s is a blue-ish purple thing that looks like it’s made of plant-fiber rather than cotton.

‘Strings of fate’. That’s what the humans call them. It’s wrong, of course. Megamind doesn’t know a lot about them, but – there had been some cultural information stored in his pod, and – and nudged in between dances and rituals there’d been a mention of ‘strings of blood’. They connect people with the same lights glowing within their hearts. The same roots, if you will.

It’s why his string is pale indigo and the humans’ red.

And - all hearts sing about pain and horror and pleasure and hope, but different hearts sing in different melodies.

That’s why no one can see Megamind’s string; their hearts just don’t sing in the same melody.

(Megamind wants so desperately to believe this, he does, but he can’t, he can’t, it’s never that simple)

(they can’t see his strings because –)

(because –)

(because Megamind is so broken)

(There’d been a moment, a shift in time, where Megamind had thought –)

(he’d hoped, for just a tiny bit, that –)

(that he wasn’t alone.)

(But that was wrong, of course, the string doesn’t go into the sky, after all, so the person must be on Earth, they must –)

(oh no, Megamind had thought, after that moment of shimmering hope had passed, oh no.)

(of course, he thinks later, of course he can see the humans’ strings –)

(it’s not because their melodies sound the same; it’s because he’s tied to one of them –)

He tries to break the string.

First the scissors pass through it, then the blast from the dehydration gun, then the flames from the flamethrower – the jackhammer ruins his cape, but ultimately does no damage to the string –

not even his alligators can snap through the blasted thing.

But he can feel it and hold it if he so wishes – it seems like it only registers his body as real, and nothing else –

when he realizes this, Megamind tries to gnaw it over. He tries to tear it apart and to file through it with his nails – but nothing works. Nothing. The string remains pale indigo and unscratched against his skin, and –

Megamind sits underneath the cool spray from the shower and Does Not cry.

(the poor, poor person his string leads to – )

(they don’t deserve –)

(and Megamind doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve this bent and twisted hope –)

(doesn’t deserve love)

“Sir,” Minion asks once day, fins fluttering nervously. “Sir, do you have a string?”

Megamind, who’s slouched over his drawing board with the imprint of a pencil on his cheek and a pair of goggles askew on his forehead, blinks. “You can’t see it?” he asks, tired and weary and –

(he just wants to go home, wherever that is –)

Minion flutters a bit more. “Sorry, sir, no.”

(it’s because their hearts don’t sing in the same melody they don’t sing in the same melody they don’t sing)

(but Megamind –)

(he –)

(can’t bring himself to believe it.)

Megamind kidnaps Roxanne Ritchi the next day, and it’s easy to pretend that nothing’s changed, easy to pretend that everything’s okay –

(he’s been doing it for so long, after all)

– until Miss Ritchi cocks her head at him. “Huh,” she says, “you really don’t have a string.”

“And I see you do, Miss Ritchi,” he drawls, gaze lingering pointedly on the tie around her pinky finger.

She shrugs. “Almost everyone does.”

Almost.

Megamind continues with the scheduled scheme and can just barely keep from scowling.

Later, when Metro Man is carrying Megamind towards the prison, he gives Megamind a stoic look. “It’s good you don’t have a string, buddy,” he says, sounding far too honest for Megamind’s taste. “It’s what’s best for all.”

(and he’s right he’s right he’s right –)

(but Megamind lies in his bed at night, staring at the string shimmering faintly in the dim light – and he wants, wants, wants –)

Over time, it becomes obvious that the string changes color. It’s mainly blue-ish indigo, but other times – usually when he steps out of the Lair – shades of red bleed into the color, changing it from blue to a warmer purple.

It doesn’t take long before Megamind understands what it means.

Humans’ strings are red. His is blue.

Red and blue make purple.

The closer he is to the person he’s tied to, the more of their red is added to his blue.

(and if he feels happier the bluer his string is, he doesn’t mention it to anyone.)

Megamind originally made the holowatch as a way for Minion and him to run errands without people shrieking and running away in terror.

Now he uses it during days when the walls close in on him, when the darkness becomes too pressing, when the lonely silence of the Lair rings like a siren in his ears.

Today is one of those days.

He’s walking through the streets of Metro City, watch strapped around his wrist. He’s supposed to grab donuts for later, but he can let himself stroll at a casual pace. It’s not like there’s someone waiting for him at the Liar – Minion is busy on the other side of town, placing orders for more bot-parts.

It’s an accident.

He’s reading a sign he’s passing, too busy to notice the way his string slowly fades into a faint magenta, and suddenly he’s face-to-face with a pair of brilliant eyes.

The world halts, freezes, tilts –

Megamind, terrified and worried, glances down at the open space between the woman and him –

a purple string hangs between them, one end tied to his left thumb, the other to the woman’s.

“Ah,” Megamind says, focus snapping back up to the eyes.

“I – hey,” the woman says, sounding a bit unsure of herself but otherwise –

(disguise, something whispers in Megamind, she’s looking at a disguise –)

She sticks out her hand. It hovers in the air between them, an outstretched olive-branch, a bridge, a scathing hope – “I’m Cat,” she offers, smiling a smile that’s just a tad too genuine to be mere politeness.

Megamind’s hand reaches out to shake Cat’s on its own accord.

(shit, shit, shit, whispers Megamind’s heart)

(quick! yells Megamind’s mind, say something stupid – chase her away – anything, something –)

“Bubsy,” he blurts.

Cat blinks, obviously taken aback – but then she swallows her surprise and beams. It looks only a little bit forced. “Alright, cool!” she says.

Megamind’s still holding her hand, he realizes, and releases it so fast that you’d think it had bitten him. “Ha, yes, cool, right – ” he stutters, brain still trying to catch up with things –

“Hey, uh – I don’t have the time to talk right now,” Cat says, glancing to the left in a twitchy move, “but what do you say about getting a coffee sometime?”

(yes, Megamind’s heart whispers)

(NO! Megamind’s mind yells, loud enough to deafen the small flutter in his chest)

“I – ” Megamind tries, “I don’t – ”

“Cat!” comes someone’s impatient cry.

Cat startles. She throws a look in the direction of the cry – her hair, long and tawny brown, falls over her shoulder. “Hold on!” she calls, before hastily turning back to Megamind again. “Uh – ” She blinks, then lights up and begins to dig through her pockets. After a hasty search she pulls out a slip of paper. “Here; my phone number. Get back to me, will you?”

(Megamind’s mind shuts down.)

(yes, whispers Megamind’s heart –)

Megamind accepts the offered paper.

“Gotta go, bye!” Cat rushes, before turning on her heel and hurrying over to a small group of people, some of them scowling impatiently and the rest looking intrigued.

Megamind walks away so fast that he nearly breaks into a run.

(shit, he thinks, shit, shit, shit –)

(he lies in his bed that night, staring at the string shimmering in the dim light – and he thinks of that beaming smile and those brilliant eyes and he wants –)

Three days pass before Megamind does something about his newly acquired slip of paper.

He’s laying in his bed, covers tangled around him and sleep a million miles away.

(he shouldn’t sleep shouldn’t sleep doesn’t deserve the blissful unawareness of temporary death –)

Hands clenched into fists; nails digging into flesh – Megamind twists, desperation and depression and terror clawing up through his throat –

his gaze lands on the crumbled paper resting on his bedside table, and his breath catches in his throat.

(hope; blinding and brief but there –)

His fingers shake when he punches in the numbers on his phone.

The message – a simple ‘hi’ – is sent before he can hesitate or rethink his actions, and then he falls back against his pillows.

A hurt noise falls from his lips.

(she gave you the wrong number, some part of him whispers, a slow and dark drawl, no one wants to be with you, come on, not even in disguise)

His phone dings.

Megamind scrambles to unlock it –

hey! bubsy, right?

Ah, right – well, too late to do something about now –

yeah, he sends back. sry, did I wake u up?

nah, comes the reply, couldn’t sleep anyway.

Something eases in Megamind’s chest.

He has no idea how it happens, but Cat somehow manages to rope him into a coffee.

A date.

(he should’ve said no, should’ve said no, should’ve said no -)

But – it doesn’t hurt to – to just talk, right? Nothing bad can come from that. Just so he knows who he’s bonded to – that’s all. Getting to know each other.

(it feels like a lie.)

(…)

(and it probably is.)

“Minion,” Megamind says as he’s preparing for the date the next day.

Minion’s heavy suit clanks loudly when he comes out from the kitchen. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m going on a date; I’ll be gone for a while.”

When Minion blinks, it’s slow and hesitant. “A… date, sir? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

(it hits too close to home – it isn’t a good idea, it isn’t –)

“Oh, relax, Minion,” Megamind exclaims, waving his hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine! It’s not like she’ll hurt me!”

“Alright, sir,” Minion says slowly, sounding even more uncertain than he was before, “if you say so.”

Megamind has no idea how to act on a date.

Cat meets him outside of the coffee-shop; a small and cozy thing called ‘a Thousand Paws’. She was the one to suggest it – Megamind’s never heard of it before. “Hey,” she greets him warmly. “How are you?”

Megamind has no idea how to small-talk, either.

(I’m horrible, he wants to say, I’m bad and I’m evil and I’m Megamind - )

“I’m fine,” he croaks. “You?”

“Superb,” Cat replies. “Come on; these guys make their mocha just perfect.”

Megamind has no choice but to follow her into the café. He stays a little behind her when she goes to order; he’s wildly unprepared to face a crowd in this state – he’s brought no weapons that he can reach in his disguise, and he’d… rather not drop it, for obvious reasons.

By the time he’s done worrying, Cat has placed their orders and is making her way towards a table.

Megamind follows her dutifully.

“-okay, but how’s this,” Cat says. The coffee stands untouched between them. “She said she didn’t believe me.”

Megamind bursts into laughter. “No way!” he says. “No way!”

Cat nods determinedly. “Yes way; and then – ”

Upon taking a sip of his coffee Megamind grimaces. It’s grown cold, all the warmth faded from it –

(just like the warmth faded from you, the part of Megamind whispers thickly, just like warmth fades from everything you touch - )

“Bubsy?” Cat asks, and worry has crept into her voice. “Something wrong?”

Megamind forces himself to shake his head. “No, no,” he says. “Ko-fee’s gone cold, is all.”

“Oh!” Cat says. “Do you want a new one?”

(no, no, no, don’t spend money on me –)

“I’m fine,” Megamind says. He sets down his cup again. “Anyway, what was I saying?”

“The library,” Cat swiftly reminds him, “and the guy from your class.”

“Ah, yes – and he – ”

Cat snickers. “You know, this is really cliché, but – ” She cuts herself off and shakes her head, a faintly amused smile on her lips. “Your eyes are very pretty.”

Megamind blinks, taken aback – “You think so?” he asks, barely keeping his voice from trembling.

“Yeah!” Cat exclaims eagerly, sitting straighter in her chair. “It’s strange, they kind of remind me of - ” Her gaze flickers. “- emeralds.”

Emeralds?

(what do you say when you’re gifted with a compliment – what do people say – what – think human)

“Thank – thank you,” he stutters, grateful that the disguise hides the small blush.

“Say,” Megamind says, gesturing towards Cat’s right hand, “that’s a pretty ring you have there.”

“Hm?” Cat looks down at her hand. “Oh, yes! It’s silver; my best friend gave it to me.” She uses her index finger to shuffle it off her thumb, and proceeds to hand it over to Megamind.

It shimmers briefly in the light; it looks worn and loved –

(unlike him, who’s only worn and hated)

oh.

“It’s pretty,” he says, handing it back over.

“Thanks,” Cat replies, easily slipping the ring on again. “I used to wear it on my left hand, but…” She nods to said hand; Megamind looks at it almost against his will.

The purple string rests unbothered on the table between them.

“Ah,” Megamind says, throat clogging up. “Right.”

Cat tilts her head; her hair drapes itself over her shoulder. “I wonder why it’s purple. Do you know?”

(yes, Megamind thinks, yes, yes, it’s purple because I’m wrong and you’re not)

He shakes his head.

Cat hums tonelessly and shrugs absentmindedly. “Worth a try,” she says. “Can other people see it from your angle?”

He shakes his head again.

Cat shrugs again. “Oh, alright,” she says. “Don’t suppose it matters much anyway.”

“Indeed,” Megamind whispers, and his voice is only a bit shaky.

Afterwards, when they’ve downed two cups of coffee each, Cat and Megamind stand outside of the café. Cat closes the door behind them, and then turns to him with a smile – a small, hesitant thing that emits more warmth than light. “I had fun today,” she admits.

Megamind –

(fun fun fun how can she have had fun)

“Oh,” he breathes.

“And, uhm… I’d like to meet you again, sometime,” Cat continues, oblivious to Megamind’s shock.

“Ah?” he says.

Cat snickers. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she grins. “If my presence has left you speechless I’m better than I thought.”

“Jhh,” Megamind sounds.

Cat’s expression is fond; lit up and emphasized by the amusement in the twist around her eyes. She shakes her head – but it’s with a smile, and she giggles as she does so. “You have my number,” she reminds him. “Text me sometime! Or call, I don’t know.”

Even though his mind has been reduced to jelly, Megamind manages to nod. He can… text… words… yes.

“Alright, then,” Cat says. “Bye!”

“…bh… bye,” Megamind manages to get out. His lips are numb, his fingers are numb, his whole body is numb –

Cat disappears around the corner.

(she had fun with him she had fun with him she had fun with him –)

(she wants to see him again.)

“Sir!” Minion greets him cheerfully. “How did the date go?”

“Ah,” Megamind says. “I – she wants to meet me again? And – I – it went good. Great.”

Minion bobs a bit in his headpiece, maw split in a wide and toothy smile. “Wonderful news, sir!” he says. It sounds a bit forced.

Megamind can’t blame him.

Less than five days go by before Megamind snaps again.

(it’s too much, the pain and the cold and the horror, and he needs, needs, needs –)

sure! Cat replies to his request of another meet-up. just say when :)

(Megamind doesn’t trust himself to take Cat to something she’d like, so he asks her – over text, because his voice would break otherwise – what she’d like to do)

are museums okay? ^^

Megamind is majorly relieved about this development.

There’s a museum opening downtown – it has sections about several different time-periods of the Human era, but if its advertisements are to be trusted, at least two stores are dedicated to Egyptology.

Megamind knows, within moments of seeing Cat, that she’s more than just a little bit interested in Old Egypt. Excitement and joy crackles in the air around her, and she’s bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet when he nears.

“I’m so fucking excited,” she says, grabbing Megamind’s hand to pull him into the building.

(his hand she took his hand –)

Megamind chuckles. “I can tell,” he mutters, grinning when Cat turns to pout playfully at him.

And Cat tugs him through all the rooms, ooh’ing and aah’ing at small tidbits of information. She explains things with loud words and grand gestures, a delighted heat in her eyes. When Megamind asks a question the answer comes immediately, happily, and enthusiastically – and as they progress from room to room and see mummies, masks, stones engraved with hieroglyphs and golden caskets, Megamind stares at her in awe, this wonderful and amazing person he just barely knows –

the string hangs between them, deep magenta when Cat holds his hand and of a softer shade whenever she rushes ahead –

(when Megamind looks back, he can safely say that this is where he begins to fall in love.)

(he loves easily, Megamind does, easily and fiercely when he finds something he wants to protect; and this person who shows her interest and excitement so intensely and who burns so brightly –)

(she deserves the world and he can’t give her that, but he can give her hope)

(Megamind, of course, doesn’t realize this just yet. He’s oblivious and drunk on the warmth of Cat’s hand in his –)

(and that’s okay.)

Afterwards Megamind takes Cat to her favorite café again. The last date was on her, this date is on him, he says, and she grudgingly accepts.

When they’re enjoying their drinks in a silence that already feels comfortable, a man walks by and sneers. “Ugh, man,” he says, and his eyes are on Megamind, “your black ass don’t deserve a beauty like her! Leave the birds to us real men, go get a hoe from Africa or somethin’.”

Megamind is ready to sneer back at him, has a response ready at the tip of his tongue, but he shoots Cat a glance, first, in case she doesn’t want him to make a scene.

Her expression doesn’t freeze, doesn’t turn horrified –

it trembles, for a moment, but hardens in a calm mask of determination. Then she stands up in one smooth motion, grabs her cup of coffee, walks over to the man, and throws the hot beverage in his face.

Gasps echo throughout the room. The man himself cries out in surprise before making a dash for the restrooms.

“Don’t listen to him, hun,” Cat says, loudly and forced through gritted teeth, staring at the retreating back of the man, “he’s just a bigoted piece of shit.” She returns to her seat and mutters, so quietly that Megamind can only barely hear it, “motherfuckin’ cock sucking son of a crack whore -!”

Megamind blinks. “Uh,” he says, “your, ah, your coffee?”

Cat waves her hand dismissively, even as she peers into her now emptied cup. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I gave it to charity.”

He laughs, grateful for her anger and her fire.

(he’ll always remember this day with fondness; the day someone first fought to protect his dignity)

Cat hugs him after their third date. They’ve been to the movies and haven’t done much talking the last two hours, but Cat held his hand when the worst scenes were on screen, and he held hers just as tight.

When she says goodbye to him, afterwards, she wraps her arms around him and holds him – tight, tight, close.

(warm she’s warm and she’s hugging him)

There’s a moment where Megamind – hesitates –

(what if she figures it out by his touch what is she figures it out what if she figures it out what then)

(please, whispers Megamind’s heart –)

– he hugs her back.

(an explosion of warmth; of joy; of home and this is his fated –)

Hugs come easier to them after that. Megamind rarely initiates them, doesn’t want to startle Cat too much – but she appears to be fine with touching. Hand-holding, too, becomes more common – and the string hangs between them, intense magenta when their fingers intertwine.

(but Megamind twists in his bed at night, guilt tearing through him and ripping him apart, because –)

(what if she finds out, and she will find out you moron, and you need to tell her before it’s too late but he doesn’t want to lose her, and he should pull away, should say it’s enough, should run before he can make her cold –)

Minion is worried. Understandable, as Megamind’s life slowly starts to revolve around Cat, rather than defeating Metro Man.

But Minion, loyal fish as he is, doesn’t say anything. He keeps it down to uncertain flutters and disapproving looks and lingering, concerned glances. Megamind pretends like he doesn’t notice. Minion pretends to not know that Megamind is pretending.

And things aren’t okay.

(Megamind’s phone dings with a message; it’s from Cat, and it reads hey hun I have sum extra time tomorrow wanna hang out at my place)

But they’re better.

(and Megamind knows, he knows that Cat still looks at him as only a friend – an exceptionally good friend, perhaps, thanks to the string tied to their thumbs, but – nothing more than that –)

“Hey, hun,” Cat greets him at the door. She smiles one of the many smiles Megamind has learned to appreciate – not the beam from their first meeting, nor the pleased grin whenever she drops an awful joke, but the soft one that translates to welcome home. “Come on in.”

Megamind dips his head and accepts the invitation. He’s been in her apartment before – not a lot, but enough to know the layout of the place. He steps into the room – the living room is, for some strange reason, the room the apartment opens into. Really; a hallway would’ve been far safer.

Cat steps aside from the door and throws herself onto the couch with a tired sigh. “You will not believe the day I’ve had at work today – gods, it was fucking terrible – ”

“Oh?” Megamind says, shrugging off the jacket he’d slipped on over the disguise. “Do tell,” he encourages, moving over to sit beside her on the couch.

“It’s nothing big,” Cat says, opening her eyes to give him a fond look, “just, you know. Work.”

(he thinks of big robots and long nights and flashes of light and bloody near-fucking-death –)

“Anyway,” Cat says, before Megamind has the time to react to her previous statement, “I found a new movie I know you’ll absolutely love, if you want to watch it with me?”

Megamind is fully aware of the fact that his features brighten considerably. He doesn’t care at all; Cat deserves to see the positive impact she has on the world. And besides, watching movies with her is always fun. “I accept your humble offer,” Megamind says formally, shifting in the couch to find a better position. “What movie shall we watch, my dear?”

Cat’s cheeks turn a few shades redder, but she grins through the blushing. “I’d prefer it to be a surprise, if you don’t mind, sire.”

Megamind waves his hand lazily. “That is no problem at all,” he notes snottily. “Now, turn on this – thehle-wish-on.”

A few moments pass where nothing happen. Puzzled, Megamind turns to Cat, eyebrow raised –

she’s staring at him, but there’s no humour in her gaze anymore, only cold contemplation. “…television,” she says softly. “It’s pronounced television.”

(testing him she’s testing him)

“Ah,” Megamind says –

(everyone knows that Megamind pronounces words wrong sometimes)

“Thank you,” he finishes. “Television.”

Cat smiles, and the humour is back again. “Alright, then, sire – your wish is my command.” She reaches for the remote, and moments later the screen flickers to life. A beat, pictures start playing on the TV, and –

A delighted gasp falls from Cat’s lips, and then she drops all the games and blurts, “can I see this first?”

“Sure,” Megamind promptly says.

He shouldn’t have agreed so fast, he realizes, when the pictures on the screen pans out, and –

it’s him. Without his disguise. Bad and blue and bald and cackling at Metro Man, who’s in the process of striking a heroic pose.

Megamind recognizes the pictures to be from his most recent Evil scheme. It’s a week or so since it happened, however… this must be a delayed report.

Cat leans forward and makes an intrigued noise.

(interested in his destruction; in his downfall –)

The cameras zoom in on him; he turns to face them, grinning the grin he’d practiced for hours beforehand.

Cat lets out a high-pitched giggle.

Wh -?

The pieces snap into place.

“Wait,” Megamind blurts, puzzled and befuddled and filled with blazing hope, “are you seriously –? Over m – Megamind?”

Cat tears her focus away from the screen in favor of glaring at him, and Megamind realizes with a start that it’s only half-joking. “And why not?” she asks, and now she sounds defensive –

(but – but – but Megamind is Megamind, how can she – how – what –)

(the look in her eyes, the adoring affection – he’s seen it before on her, knows that it’s genuine –)

“First of all,” Cat continues, “he’s fucking adorable.” She says it as if it is the truest reality; as though she knows that if everything else fails, this will still hold true – “Look at those eyes, and his smile – ” She gestures wildly for the screen, motions sharp and short and angry. “There aren’t many guys who could pull of his style and look that good!”

On-screen Megamind raises his leather-clad hand, and a swarm of brainbots rise like a stormy and vengeful cloud behind him.

Megamind begins to gather his wits; he has to give her a reply that makes sense – a garbled mrph? won’t hold against her –

“Second,” Cat says, the word trembling with the weight of her emotions, “give me one bloody example where he’s actually hurt someone – or even tried to!”

He opens his mouth to say that he hasn’t been following a lot of Megamind’s moves.

“And Metro Man doesn’t count!” Cat interrupts him harshly, jabbing a finger in his direction. “He’s bloody fucking invincible. You’re just judging a book by its cover! Like everyone else!”

The notion that Megamind is judging a book by its cover is so surprising and hilarious that it startles all his wits back into place.

He laughs; mostly at the thought that he’s judging himself wrong. “Okay, okay!” he says, before chuckling a bit more. “I didn’t…” Now he hesitates; the confusion and disbelief settle heavy in his stomach. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about him.”

(she must’ve defended him before, against other people, she must’ve, if she gets so mad –)

Suddenly it seems to dawn on her what she’s said; one last flare in her eyes, and then she slumps over, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah,” she says. “Well. I think he gets the short end of the stick, sometimes.” She looks over at the screen again, the sheepish expression tilting into a softer, more regretful one.

On the screen, Metro Man boasts proudly about how he won the fight. Megamind is sulking in the background, chained and soon-to-be confined by the prison’s four walls.

“I don’t think he’s evil,” Cat whispers, even as screen-Megamind scowls at the Mayor’s back. “I don’t think he’s evil at all.”

Megamind… has a lot to think about, the following days.

(she thinks he’s adorable she thinks he’s adorable she thinks he’s adorable –)

His greatest worry had been Cat discovering his true identity and then promptly leaving him to himself, mad at him for lying and mad at him for being him.

He should tell her – he really, really should – and now that he has proof that she’d be okay with him being, well, Megamind, that choice should be easy to make –

but she’ll be mad, she will, because he’s lied to her about who he truly is since day fucking one –

and the guilt, the tearing, the ripping, the mind-numbing remorse and terror –

it gets worse.

“She thinks I’m adorable,” Megamind admits to Minion the following week. His voice… might have been just a teeny tiny bit dreamy.

“Well, sir,” Minion says, putting down the coffee cup with a little more force than necessary, “you’re dating. I would expect her to think so.”

“Oh, no!” Megamind exclaims, sitting straight in his chair. They’re in the kitchen, Megamind sitting by the table and Minion standing over by the oven, watching over some bacon sizzling in a frying pan. “No, no – she thinks I, as in Megamind, incredibly handsome criminal genius and master of all villainy, is adorable.”

Minion stops what he’s doing. He’s not facing Megamind, he can’t see his expression –

one nervous heart-beat.

Two.

“Sir,” Minion says, turning in his head-piece to fix Megamind with a stern look, his voice soft and dangerously quiet. “I expect to meet her as soon as possible.”

Minion has used this voice only twice before; once when Megamind was a teen, and once after one of the earliest battles with Metro Man. Both had been caused by an intense overload of worry from his dear fishy friend.

“Yes,” Megamind says, not even thinking about the consequences. “Of course.”

Minion nods approvingly, turns back around, and continues to watch over the strips of bacon.

bubsy do you have time to come over today

Megamind looks at his desk, littered with half-finished blueprints and somewhat-thought-out plans for his next scheme.

ofc, he replies, anything for u.

Cat doesn’t say what’s bothering her, she only opens the door with a tired but welcoming nod. Maybe she thinks that he doesn’t notice, but he’s her bonded, there’s a string made of plant-fiber painted purple that says they’re meant for each other, and during the last few months he’s gotten familiar with her expressions.

He sees the hesitancy and remorse and worry in her eyes –

and for the first time in his life, he initiates a hug.

Cat clings to him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso and forehead pressed into his shoulder. Megamind doesn’t say anything, only holds her closer, ready and willing to be her anchor and her strength.

After an embrace that lasts for centuries and seconds Cat lets go. “Bubsy,” she says, quiet and unwavering and eyes downcast, “I’m falling in love with you.”

The world halts, freezes, tilts –

(he’s been terrified of breaking her, terrified of doing something wrong to her, but the months spent by her side has shown him just how much he can love, just how great he can be –)

(he wants to be good for her, wants to give her the world, and he’s no longer afraid of breaking her because he knows he makes her happy, but –)

“No,” Megamind says, taking a step back with a small headshake. He’s over by the door; he could run, if he wanted to. “No, you’re not.”

(she doesn’t love him she loves Bubsy she loves the disguise; she thinks Megamind is adorable, thinks he’s cute, certainly, but she doesn’t love him, and –)

(Megamind isn’t Bubsy, he’s Megamind –)

Cat heaves a shuddering breath. “I – I know this thing – ” She gestures towards the purple string tying them together. “ – only means that we – that we’re – platonic soulmates or what-fucking-ever – but these months – I’ve fallen in love with you, Bubsy – I know you don’t – love me back, or whatever, but – ”

“Don’t love you back?” Megamind asks, shocked and terrified – he’d thought she knew, thought she could feel the love in every brief touch, in every lingering glance, could hear it in every little joke and word – “Don’t love you back?” he repeats, voice rising in pitch. “Cat – I love you, with every fiber of my being – ”

His throat clogs up.

(say it, whispers Megamind’s heart, say it, tell her.)

(do something, begs Megamind’s mind, something, I don’t care, anything – )

Then his vision begins to blur. It’s too much, the pain and the horror and the dark cloud of self-hatred that had just begun to lift with Cat’s help, and it’s too fucking much –

(human he should’ve been human he should’ve been human so he could’ve loved her with everything he has, but he can’t because he’s –)

Megamind –

– twists the dial on the holowatch.

And the disguise fades.

“That’s not the problem,” he whispers.

Cat’s eyes are blown wide within seconds. “– Megamind?” she breathes.

It’s strange – Megamind can pinpoint the exact moment she understands. He sees it in her eyes, sees it in the way she shifts her weight. And then he sees something – else – something tilts, in her expression, something tilts and cracks and mends again, and –

she takes a step closer; cranes her neck to look up at him. “You love me?” she asks, voice a mild whisper void of hesitation or horror.

Megamind forces himself to nod.

“And you’re Bubsy,” Cat says.

It’s not a question.

Megamind nods again.

“Wonderful,” Cat breathes, and then she kisses him.

Megamind has never understood why people describe kissing as something that shoots sparks – it’s a kiss, it’s pressing lips against lips, there shouldn’t be sparks –

– but now he gets it.

He’s willing to bet money that the kiss was supposed to be soft and short and sweet – it’s the sort of thing Cat would do, taking it nice and slow before exploring more –

but the moment he kisses her back, months of tension and guilt and longing flare in between them.

(a pulse of need that doesn’t come from either of them; a warmth; a desire; a wish)

(the feeling of home, and this is his fated – )

Cat’s hands are on his shoulders when she pushes him against the door behind him, mouths working on mapping each other out; she pulls back, just enough to draw a sharp breath and gasp, “ – Megamind – ” She moves to kiss him again, but she pulls away once more before Megamind can respond to the kiss. “ – I suspected – didn’t know, of course – ” Another kiss, more desperate this time, fingers tightening on his shoulders. “ – I do love you – ”

“ – I – realize – now, yes, that – ” Megamind manages to stutter, the next time Cat pulls back. He – desperately – wants, needs –

“ – Megamind – ” Cat repeats, diving in for another brief kiss before seemingly forcing herself to stay back.

Megamind gets it; he wants to talk about this, about them, wants to understand her –

but the bond between them, the string, the plant-fibre that ties them together – it has other plans, and it wants those plans set into action now.

“ – Cirrus – ” Megamind gasps out, “ – it’s – my name – Cirrus – ”

Cat rests her forehead in the nook of his neck for a moment, heaving for breath, the moment a brief second of calm – “Oh, Deus,” Cat whispers, and the words fan across his skin, “that is – ” She presses her lips to his skin, hot and soft and – “ – that is fucking beautiful – ”

“ – ah – I – thank?” he stutters out, half his mind focused on keeping him upright and the other focused on what Cat is saying. There’s not much brainpower left to help him speak in coherent sentences.

“ – Cirrus – ” Cat repeats, pulling back long enough to look him in the eyes, “I – Cirrus, I love – that, love you, fucking – ”

(Megamind needs –)

He kisses her, keeping it careful and soft and slow. It takes Cat by surprise; so much that she doesn’t try to deepen the kiss. “Less talking,” he whispers, when he ends it a moment after, “and more doing.”

Cat laughs; it’s a beautiful sound, even amid all of this, and Megamind captures the sound with his mouth.

(they barely make it to the bedroom.)

(Minion’s wish is granted the next day. He beams, Cat beams, they all beam, and Cat holds Megamind’s hand just as tight as he holds hers when Minion first calls her ma’am.)

(it is, they all know, far from the last.)

(and Megamind lies on the couch in Evil Lair, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts and a pair of socks Cat bought for him. She’s sleeping on his chest with her arms slung around his torso, a content smile on her lips and socks matching his.)

(and Megamind lies on the couch in Evil Lair listening to a heart sing the same melody as he –)

(he glances at the purple string resting between them, shimmering faintly in the dim light – )

(and he has.)

#art trade #meg og mitt #my writing #hakkebakkeskogen #the huckybucky forest #klatremus #mikkel #claus #marvin #clarvin #megamind #commisionwork

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carrieneuman · 2 years

Text

New Year - Part 2

The day was bright and clear with only a few wisps of clouds painted across the sky. Ocuena hoped it was a sign of the gods’ favor for her journey. Then again, it was the dry season. It would have been more surprising to find standing water in the low lying places.

The coast was mostly palmetto hammocks, ever green and pointy. The towering cypress had dropped all their needles and would stand bare and brown until late in the spring. There was an occasional rustle of squirrels in the brush, thick beside the marked path, and a single heron flew overhead. Otherwise, the morning was quiet.

The path turned, opening up to the clearing where the mounds stood stark against the empty sky. The tribes had gathered here before the winter turned cold to offer prayers to the gods. Goods were traded, ball games played, and marriages arranged. Food had flowed from the cooking fires until the ground was soaked with drippings.

In contrast, Ocuena stood here alone with crushed shells crunching beneath her moccasins. A small bag of trail rations tied to her belt was the only food now.

Ocuena approached the little altar of rocks, shells, and animal skulls at the base of the big mound. She recited the prayer that Uferi taught her and placed the bag he had given her inside a shell circle for offerings.

“Please, let me find my aunt.”

A voice came from nearby. “Why should they?”

Ocuena turned slowly and held very still as she took in the creature. He had a man’s body, but it was covered with a bobcat’s spotted fur. His face was like a man’s but it was framed in a thick fringe of sideburns. His ears were tall and pointed, and his eyes were the shimmering yellow of a cat’s.

Unsure what else to do, Ocuena answered his question. “I don’t suppose there’s a reason, but there’s no reason for them to take any interest in us to start with. All I can do is hope that one of them is bored enough to be entertained by my search.”

“Not a bad answer, kid.” The bobcat-man smiled at her and stretched. “I’m Coamoka, your messenger. I suppose you’ll be wanting one of the daytime gods for your prayers?”

“Yes, please. I’d like not to be transformed into anything on the way.”

Coamoka grinned, showing his pointed teeth. “That’s no guarantee. But you’re right that the daytime gods are more likely to be helpful.”

“I like the sound of that.” Ocuena allowed herself a small smile.

“Just one thing first.”

Of course. “You have a test for me.”

Coamoka shrugged and paced a few steps before dropping down onto his spotted haunches. “Merely a trifle. Could you just pop over there and grab my lunch?”

Ocuena turned around. What had been thick undergrowth and scraggly oaks was now a series of hammocks ringed with tall marsh grass. The places between them would be full of water, but it would be almost impossible to see where until she was on the edge.

And she wouldn’t be alone. Snakes and alligators would almost certainly be waiting for prey.

But it was a test, and there was no use whining about it. Ocuena just needed to keep her eyes open and move slowly but steadily. Snakes were shy, and alligators liked smaller prey. She just needed to avoid startling any. Animals often confused fear and anger.

She found a good sized stick on the ground and kicked it over a few times. When she was sure there were no scorpions or spiders clinging to it, she picked it up and began to tap it on the ground before her.

Ocuena eased gently into the water. It was cold, and she shivered despite herself. As she eased forward, tapping away, she was pleased to find it came no deeper than mid-thigh.

The grass rustled to her right, and she stopped, barely drawing breath. She kept her stick thumping away in warning. When nothing appeared, she moved forward.

She repeated the dance a few times before making her way across the hammocks and back through the brackish channels until she reached her goal. A deer haunch dangled from a tree branch by a bit of vine. Ocuena pulled it down and turned back the way she had come.

The ground was solid again with the shell lined path cutting off the mound’s glade from the forest. Coamoka sat on his haunches, smiling at her.

“Beautifully done.”

She set his lunch down before him and watched him tuck in. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you,” he said around bites.

Ocuena looked around the clearing, wondering what to do next.

“Oh yeah,” Coamoka said. “She went that way.”

He nodded to the north, and Ocuena turned to see a path into the forest that hadn’t been there before. She turned back to Coamoka, but he was gone.

“Thank you,” she said to the empty air.

She strode forward, hopeful that this would lead to her aunt. The sun was warm and her legs were already dry. And yet, the wind in the palmettos sounded like faint laughter.

#flash fiction #fantasy #original fiction #writeblr #Timucua

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bdfanfic · 6 years

Text

You Only Live 18 Times #16

Ra’Jirra and Wears-Only-Ropes raced towards the oncoming water-arrow at breakneck speed. Wears-Only-Ropes did a quick mental guess and set the timer for 5 seconds. Meanwhile Ra’Jirra struggled to keep the craft on-course against the waves that kept crashing into them. Then she felt the tap at her shoulder and pulled the lever, turning out of the path of the arrow a split second later but continuing at full speed away. The arrow passed directly beneath them in a flash. She didn’t turn around, but heard the explosion go off behind her.

She held tight to the controls and felt the CAT go airborne, but she hung on and she felt the strong hands of Wears-Only-Ropes manage to keep wrapped around her as they hit the waves hard upon their return. Only then did she slow and turn back.

“Good job, Ropes,” she said, breathing hard. “But we’ve only one more mine, and we can’t waste it on another arrow.”

“I know, Raj. And I know what I have to do. You don’t need to tell me. If I hold the timer, will it stop, or does launching the mine start the timer where it’s set?”

“I don’t know, Ropes. I really don’t.”

“Well, we’ve not much choice, I guess. I’ll set it for 60 seconds, you launch it, then I’ll dive in after it. But damned if I know where that goddamn ship is. It’s dark under there Raj. I may not find it at all.”

Ra’Jirra looked back towards where the two water-arrows had come from and headed back that way.

“Why haven’t they launched another one already?”

“When I was in the ship, there were two big tubes. My guess is it takes them a while to reset for another shot. I’ve no idea how long, but Ropes, there are lots of arrows inside there.”

The argonian nodded.

“When I’m off, you get the hell out of here. If this works, there’s going to be an explosion like nothing any of us have ever seen, Raj.”

Ra’Jirra slowed the CAT to a halt, guesstimating she was roughly over where the Dominion might be. Then she hugged Wears-Only-Ropes.

“If I…” she started, but the argonian just hugged her back then drew her away by the shoulders.

“You couldn’t get close, Ra’Jirra. No, this is what I’m here for. I knew it when I followed you.”

“I’ll tell them about you, Ropes. You won’t be forgotten.”

Argonian’s didn’t exactly cry, but Ra’Jirra saw the nictitating membranes flashing.

“Do that, Ra’Jirra. And tell them about my crew. I was just one of them. They all would have done this.”

Ra’Jirra hugged her once more. “You are their avenging angel, Ropes. Good luck!”

Wears-Only-Ropes pulled away from her again and pulled the last mine out, setting the timer for the 60 second maximum, then put it back on the rack.

“Wait!” Ra’Jirra said when she turned back around. “Do you see that?”

Wears-Only-Ropes followed where she was pointing. Some hundreds of yards away, something glinted with the distinctive color of Dwemer metal.

They looked at each other.

“That’s it,” Wears-Only-Ropes declared. “The Dominion must be under there.”

“Hold on!” Ra’Jirra said, and spun the craft to face the shining object sitting stationary above the waves.

“Don’t forget what I said, Raj. You get the hell away!” Wears-Only-Ropes called over her shoulder.

“I will, Ropes. You go take care of that thing.”

A minute later and Ra’Jirra shouted back. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

Ra’Jirra slowed to a stop and pulled the lever. She heard the mine splash behind her, now armed. Wears-Only-Ropes followed it. She saw the argonian grab the mine and begin swimming deep. Then she hit the throttle and began flying away from the spot, aiming roughly for where the Hammerfell ship was sailing away at full speed.

***************************

Underwater, Wears-Only-Ropes saw the thin tube of Dwemer metal going straight down into the depths. It would take her more than a minute to reach the Dominion, and she sincerely hoped the timer wasn’t running as she held the dial at the 1 minute mark. If it was running internally, she’d never know it. She would be blown to bits when it went off. She could only trust in luck there.

As she continued downwards, she slowly saw the huge shape of the Dominion looming out of the depths below. It could be nothing else. She stuffed the mine into her pants and redoubled her efforts, fighting against her natural buoyancy. She was just getting close when she saw another figure coming around from the bottom of the ship. It was another argonian, and she recognized him as the big guard. In his mouth, he held a wicked looking knife and he was coming fast.

But she couldn’t simply swim away. She might well be faster through the water than him, but the Dominion might well get under way at any moment. Instead, she turned to face him.

Fighting underwater, even for argonians, was a hard business. All movements were terribly slow compared to in the open air. But she was both a sailor and an argonian. It wasn’t her first time. She avoided his attempts to cut her with the knife, but soon it was clear she was getting nowhere, and time was not her friend here.

Then he closed on her, wrapping an arm around her neck. She saw the hand with the knife descend and grabbed it, turning it towards her mouth where she bit the arm, hard. Very hard. She felt bones crunch between her teeth and she wrenched at it with the strength of an alligator, rolling in the deep.

She heard another noise then. Not the screaming of her assailant, though that reached her clearly enough. No, this was coming from the Dominion. She kicked the maimed argonian away from her and saw the hand, severed now, fall into the depths below along with the knife. Then she turned back to the ship. She saw a port sliding slowly open in the nose of the thing, and recognized that it must be the aperture of one of the arrow-tubes. They were going to launch another any moment.

Suddenly she had an inspiration. She might not have the time, but it was the best chance she had. Rapidly she untied the ropes around her chest and swam up to catch the argonian who was trying to escape to the surface. She wrapped the rope around him rapidly, and trussed him tightly, hauling him back to the Dominion all the while.

The arrow hadn’t launched yet. She manhandled the argonian, forcing him into the tube and rapidly tying the ropes around the portal’s edge, trapping him within. Then she pulled the mine out of her pants and checked the timer. It had only a few seconds left, so she cranked it back to 60 seconds, then thrust it deep down into the argonian’s own pants, knowing he was tied far too well to get it out in time.

“Goodbye, Pak-Sha,” she said, waving before she swam away as fast as she could, upwards and back away from the nose of the ship. She knew any hope of survival was pointless at this range, but she couldn’t help but hope. Still, she felt okay. She’d done her job. In a few seconds it would be over anyway, and she wanted to at least be sure the bulk of the Dominion was between her and the mine when it went off.

In fact, the mine alone would still not have breached the hull of the Dominion, even if placed directly on it. But the torpedo tube was a weak point when it’s hatch was open as it was now. Even then, the Dominion may have survived had it not been for the armed torpedo that was awaiting launch inside it.

But the combination made the outcome inevitable. The mine went off. In milliseconds, its explosion caused the destruction of the armed torpedo within the tube. In turn, the torpedo’s explosive power was well beyond the small mine. The nose of the Dominion expanded outwards under the incredible power of the torpedo. But even that was dwarfed when the other torpedoes held within the ship joined the explosion. And all this happened within a single second. Not a single soul aboard the Dominion even had time to register alarm. Only Number 4 had any clue they were in any danger, and he was blind, unable to see what was happening just outside the ship. His periscope only viewed the surface above the water. His last seconds were spent watching the naked rear of that damned khajiit, speeding away at top speed, her tail waving in the wind. And then all within were snuffed out before a single nerve could register the explosion.

#prequel adventure #khajiit #argonian #the elder scrolls #Ra'Jirra #rajirra #crossover #spy

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nontsec · 7 years

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The Doctor Will See Your Iguana Now Dr. Anthony Pilny started the day short-handed: A colleague at the Center for Avian and Exotic Medicine was bitten by an iguana while making her morning rounds. An iguana’s mouth contains around 100 tiny serrated teeth. The other vet went off to the urgent care clinic to get stitches, leaving Dr. Pilny to do an enormously messy piece of gynecological surgery on a duck without an assisting doctor. The duck was out cold on the table in a basement operating room, a breathing tube stuck down her bill. Dr. Pilny sliced open her abdominal cavity and rooted around. “What is this?” he asked. “I’m seeing some sort of fluid-filled saclike structures. I see free egg yolk in her body.” Continue reading the main story There was little time to ponder the situation. On this Thursday morning not long ago, patients were stacked up in their cages: a guinea pig with hair loss, a rabbit unable to move its bowels, and the irascible iguana, now relaxing behind a sign that said “Use Caution Lunges.” Others waited in recovery: a hedgehog newly minus one eyeball, and a chinchilla who sacrificed a leg to the bars of her cage. The center, on Columbus Avenue on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, is the city’s only exclusively exotic animal hospital. “Exotic” in the veterinary trade simply means all pets except cats and dogs. The center treats anything else that comes in the door and weighs under 50 pounds. Most of the patients are rabbits, rodents, lizards or birds, but they can get pretty exotic: kinkajous, alligators, flower horn fish and prairie dogs. So can their problems. “I’ve been an avian and exotic vet since 2004,” Dr. Pilny said, “and every day I say, ‘What the hell is this?’” Many of the center’s patients are not legal in New York City, sometimes for good reason. “I’m not a big fan of people keeping a lot of the animals that come in here,” Dr. Pilny said. But the center asks no questions and passes no judgments. It is not the pet police. “We don’t report anybody,” Dr. Pilny said. “We just provide medical care.” Dino, the 3-year-old white duck on the operating table, was a longtime patient. In 2015, she lost her ability to form eggshells, and unlaid eggs built up inside her. Dr. Pilny removed most of her reproductive hardware but left her ovary because taking it out could make her bleed to death. “Most birds when you take out the reproductive tract, they stop ovulating,” Dr. Pilny said. “This duck decided to break the rules.” Dino has other health issues. Her egg problems led to calcium deficiency, weak bones and a fractured leg. She could no longer walk. “She can crawl around on towels, but otherwise we have to carry her everywhere,” said her owner, E. J. Orbe, a ballroom dance instructor from Paterson, N.J. Some people might hesitate to invest $1,200 in gynecological surgery on a lame duck. But Dino has a job: She’s a seeing-eye duck for another of Mr. Orbe’s ducks, Penguin, who is blind. “She finds food and water and makes noises, and Penguin would come over and start eating,” Mr. Orbe said. Inside Dino, Dr. Pilny was hacking his way through a sea of yolky blobs. “It’s just a very extensive, severe amount of schmutz in here,” he said to the veterinary technician, Kristine Castillo. A clamp on Dino’s webbed foot fed her vital signs to a monitor. Her heartbeat pounded through the cheap speaker like a tom-tom drum: thwap-thwap, thwap-thwap. Dr. Pilny explained as he cut: After Dino’s earlier surgery, the yolks she produced fell loose inside her body and formed cysts that attached themselves to various organs. There were hundreds. He removed some of them and drained others that were too stuck. “Now comes the part where I try to do something risky and just hope it’s right,” he said. He tied off the blood supply to the oviduct. “Please, duck,” he said. A cyst burst at the touch of his blade and sprayed yellow fluid toward his face. He did not flinch. The technician called for more gauze pads. “Everything just bleeds and bleeds and bleeds!” Dr. Pilny said. The surgery ground into its second hour. The hospital’s practice manager, Lorelei Tibbetts, poked her head into the small, beeping, thumping operating room. It was about Snorri, the constipated white rabbit. “He’s looking at me miserably, like he has a balloon in his belly,” she said. “Should we try laser?” Dr. Pilny told her to hang on. A blood vessel burst. “That wasn’t good,” he said. He cut and sewed, cut and sewed. The bleeding stopped. Dr. Pilny decided he had done all he could for one day. Ms. Tibbetts came around again. “You closing?” she asked. “Yeah,” Dr. Pilny said. “Are you happy?” “Am I ever happy?” “So, no.” Dr. Pilny, 44, is one of three veterinarians at the center. He has a tattoo of a crane on one arm, a finch on the other, and a puffin on the back of his leg. He wears a tropical-theme surgical cap with parrots and green leaves on it. He is particularly fond of birds; he has 15 of them. He saves brightly colored feathers from his patients in a desk drawer in the hospital office and periodically sends them to an organization called Feathers for Native Americans. They are for American Indians who require naturally molted plumage for their headdresses. Dr. Pilny grew up in the Bronx, went to veterinary school at the University of Florida and specialized in exotics because he likes to see the insides of different kinds of animals and enjoys a challenge. But medicine is medicine. “Sometimes you look heroic and you save the animal’s life and the little girl is happy,” he said. Sometimes the patient dies. Mostly, the results fall somewhere in between. The center opened 12 years ago, spun off from Animal General, a hospital two doors down. Though the city’s biggest pet hospital, the Animal Medical Center on the Upper East Side, treats plenty of exotics, Animal General’s owners thought there was a place for a stand-alone practice where predator-prey interaction was kept to a minimum. “One of the ideas is that cats and birds don’t mix,” said Karen Heidgerd, the Center for Avian and Exotic Medicine’s administrator. The cheery vibe in the reception area would not be possible in the presence of cats and dogs. Bright-beak finches flit in the window. The center’s resident rabbits nibble sprigs of hay in an alcove by the front desk. The center sees about 10 patients on a typical day. While there are no statistics on ownership of exotic pets in New York (especially illegal ones), Ms. Tibbetts said that more owners seemed to be seeking medical care. “In the past, they were just considered ‘caged pets’ and most people didn’t even consider taking them to the vet,” she said. Most owners do not carry insurance, though it is available, Dr. Pilny said. Dr. Pilny’s next surgery was an ovariohysterectomy on a guinea pig. Her owners had brought her in because she was losing fur on her flanks. Dr. Pilny noticed that the fur loss was identical on both sides. Symmetrical alopecia is caused by a hormonal imbalance, which was probably in turn caused by ovarian cysts. Cut, snip, slice, sew, done. Fifteen minutes. Ms. Tibbetts poked her head in again. “What did you find?” she asked. “Nothing too exciting,” Dr. Pilny said. “A little cyst on the left ovary, a little inflammation.” He admired his handiwork. “The thing that matters most to the owners is how they look when they pick them up from surgery,” Dr. Pilny said. “No matter how lifesaving or complicated the surgery, what matters is when they pick the pet up and say, ‘Look at that incision.’” Dr. Pilny ate lunch at his desk. He called the duck’s owner and told him the surgery had gone reasonably well. “Maybe it buys her a good eight months or a year or something,” he told Mr. Orbe. “I don’t necessarily think she’s cured, but I think this helped a lot.” After lunch, things got weird. A rabbit was brought in for a dental issue, but during the exam, its eyes began jerking back and forth, a condition called nystagmus. Then it started running around in circles on the treatment table. “I told the owner it’s either a bizarre coincidence, or this is the real problem,” Dr. Pilny said. The rabbit was tested and treated for a protozoan infection. Meanwhile, the owners of Snorri the constipated rabbit came to visit him. While they were holding him, Snorri became agitated, moved his bowels violently and collapsed. Dr. Pilny could not revive him. Snorri’s owners sobbed loudly behind a closed door, but the staff was a little shaken, too. Snorri had been born at the center six months ago. His parents were the pair of bunnies munching hay in the reception area. “It’s a young rabbit,” Dr. Pilny said. “It shouldn’t happen.” By now, Dr. Pilny had a headache. The veterinary technician brought out the iguana. Her name was Spot. She was 9 and had a history of lesions and fungal infection. Her tail was amputated a while ago. Now she had a crusty lesion on the top of her head that needed to be biopsied. The technician held Spot, tightly wrapped in a towel. Dr. Pilny gave her a shot of lidocaine. He took the tissue sample and then stuck a hemostat in the hole in her head to feel around. He expected to hit bone. He did not. “It feels like I’m passing it through beach sand,” he said. Dr. Pilny prospected a bit inside Spot’s skull. Soon he had reached her sinus. Some blood came out of her nose. “I could dig around in here all day,” Dr. Pilny said. The grim jokes began to flow, like something out of “M*A*S*H” crossed with “All Creatures Great and Small.” “Did she just blow air out of that hole?” Dr. Pilny asked. “Did I make a blowhole and turn it into a whale? I did — I turned an iguana into a whale.” Ms. Tibbetts came over to inspect. “This whole thing — it has no tail!” she said. “We had to chop its whole tail off. It’s like rotting from the inside, and we can’t stop it.” “That’s like what the clients say: ‘Is it rotting from the inside out?’” Dr. Pilny said. “It is!” Ms. Tibbetts said. “This one the answer is yes.” Dr. Pilny wrapped Spot’s toothy mouth shut with four layers of tape and took her off for an X-ray. It showed a large gap in the nasal bone. The sinus was filled with pus and exudates. The cause turned out to be a bone infection that required surgery and long-term treatment. Spot’s place on the prep-room table was quickly taken by the body of Snorri. Dr. Pilny had recommended a necropsy because the owners had two other rabbits. Snorri’s large intestine looked like an overinflated tire tube. Dr. Pilny explained that it had stopped moving food along, and the food had fermented and filled the intestine with gas. “He got so severely bloated that the intestines leaked bacteria into the abdomen and he went into sepsis,” Dr. Pilny said. A technician lit an odor-eliminating candle and laid it by Snorri’s head. Why Snorri’s intestines stopped working was a mystery. Dr. Pilny took tissue samples to send to the lab. A custodian made a clay heart with Snorri’s paw prints on it to give to his owners. Dr. Pilny went up to the office to make more calls. Ms. Tibbetts and the vet who was bitten by Spot, Dr. Jessica Grodio, were there discussing iguana temperaments. “I always expect an iguana is going to bite,” Ms. Tibbetts said, tossing in an expletive. “I always assume the worst with them.” “Well, now I will, too,” Dr. Grodio said, examining her bandaged finger. “I guess it’s been all nice iguanas so far.” “There’s no such thing as a nice iguana,” Ms. Tibbetts said. “Remember when Ty bit a hole in his owner’s face?” “I don’t remember that,” Dr. Pilny said. “What are you — he had like 50 sutures in the shape of an iguana mouth on his cheek,” Ms. Tibbetts said. “He still has scars.” Dr. Pilny dialed the phone. “Hey there, it’s Dr. Pilny about Spot,” he said. “So, the plot thickens. …” The day wound down. People came to pick up their pets. A tech brought up Elphaba the hedgehog, whose eye had to be removed after it became infected. “Hi, beautiful,” said her owner, Daniel Rodriguez. Elphaba wiggled her snout and sniffed enthusiastically. “Definitely better than yesterday,” he said. Then Spot’s owner, Chris St. John, came to get her. Mr. St. John, an illustrator who lives in Hell’s Kitchen, conceded that she could be a handful. “She’s a tough one, and she can have a little bit of attitude too,” he said. “She can be a diva.” Still, he said, he loved her very much. Ms. Tibbetts brought up a taped-shut cardboard box and set it on the table. She showed the X-ray to Mr. St. John, pointing out the missing chunk of bone: “And these are her teeth, which found their way into Dr. Grodio’s finger today.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” Mr. St. John said. “It’s all right,” Ms. Tibbetts said with a laugh. Mr. St. John unboxed his iguana. “Baby,” he said softly as she extended her long green legs. He caressed her dewlap. “Hey cutie patoots!” Ms. Tibbetts said brightly. Ms. Tibbetts told Mr. St. John to get Spot eating again. “I’m worried about her weight loss.” “I’ll do it,” Mr. St. John said. “She’s been through a ——” his voice faltered. “Been through a lot,” Ms. Tibbetts said. Mr. St. John kissed Spot’s spiny back. “O.K., girl,” he said, “you’re heading home.” The Post First Appeared On NyTimes

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