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superman86to99 · 3 years

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Superman #85 (January 1994)

Cat Grant in... "DARK RETRIBUTION"! Which is like normal retribution, but somehow darker. On the receiving end of Cat's darktribution is Winslow Schott, the Toyman, who suddenly changed his MO from "pestering Superman with wacky robots" to "murdering children" back on Superman #84, with one of his victims being Cat's young son Adam. Now Cat has a gun and intends to sneak it into prison to use it on Toyman. She's also pretty pissed at Superman for taking so long to find Toyman after Adam’s death (to be fair, Superman did lose several days being frozen in time by an S&M demon, as seen in Man of Steel #29).

So how did Superman find Toyman anyway? Basically, by spying on like 25% of Metropolis. After finding out from Inspector Turpin that the kids were killed near the docks, Superman goes there and focuses all of his super-senses to get "a quick glimpse of every person" until he sees a bald, robed man sitting on a giant crib, and goes "hmmm, yeah, that looks like someone who murders children." At first, Superman doesn't understand why Toyman would do such a horrible thing, but then Schott starts talking to his mommy in his head and the answer becomes clear: he watched Psycho too many times (or Dan Jurgens did, anyway).

Immediately after wondering why no one buys his toys, Toyman makes some machine guns spring out of his giant crib. I don't know, man, maybe it's because they're all full of explosives and stuff? Anyway, Toyman throws a bunch of exploding toys at Superman, including a robot duplicate of himself, but of course they do nothing. Superman takes him to jail so he can get the help he needs -- which, according to Cat, is a bullet to the face. Or so it seems, until she gets in front of him, pulls the trigger, and...

PSYCHE! It was one of those classic joke guns I’ve only ever seen in comics! Cat says she DID plan to bring a real gun, but then she saw one of these at a toy store and just couldn't resist. Superman, who was watching the whole thing, tells Cat she could get in trouble for this stunt, but he won't tell anyone because she's already been through enough. Then he asks her if she needs help getting home and she says no, because she wants to be more self-sufficient.

I think that's supposed to be an inspiring ending, but I don't know... Adam's eerie face floating in the background there makes me think she's gonna shave her head and climb into a giant crib any day, too. THE END!

Character-Watch:

Cat did become more self-sufficient after this, though. Up to now, all of her storylines seemed to revolve around other people: her ex-husband, Morgan Edge, José Delgado, Vinnie Edge, and finally Toyman. After this, I feel like there was a clear effort to turn her into a character that works by herself. I actually like what they did with Cat in the coming years, though I still don’t think they had to kill her poor kid to do that -- they could have sent him off to boarding school, or maybe to live with his dad. Or with José Delgado, over at Power of Shazam! I bet Jerry Ordway would have taken good care of him.

Plotline-Watch:

Wait, so can Superman just find anyone in Metropolis any time he wants? Not really: this is part of the ongoing storyline about his powers getting boosted after he came back from the dead, which sounds pretty useful now but is about to get very inconvenient.

Don Sparrow points out: "It is interesting that as Superman tries to capture Schott, he at one point instead captures a robot decoy, particularly knowing what Geoff Johns will retroactively do to this storyline in years to come, in Action Comics #865, as we mentioned in our review of Superman #84." Johns also explained that the robot thought he was hearing his mother's voice due to the real Toyman trying to contact him via radio, which I prefer to the "psycho talks to his dead mom" cliche.

Superman says "I never thought he'd get to the point where he'd KILL anyone -- especially children!" Agreed about the children part but, uh, did Superman already forget that Toyman murdered a whole bunch people on his very first appearance, in Superman #13? Or does Superman not count greedy toy company owners as people? Understandable, I guess.

There's a sequence about Cat starting a fire in a paper basket at the prison to sneak past the metal detector, but why do that if she had a toy gun all long? Other than to prevent smartass readers like us from saying "How did she get the gun into the prison?!" before the plot twist, that is.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patient Patreon patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Dave Shevlin, and Kit! The latest Patreon-only article was about another episode of the 1988 Superman cartoon written by Marv Wolfman, this one co-starring Wonder Woman (to Lois' frustration).

Another Patreon perk is getting to read Don Sparrow's section early, because he usually finishes his side of these posts long before I do (he ALREADY finished the next one, for instance). But now this one can be posted in public! Take it away, Don:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with the cover, and it’s a good one— an ultra tight close up for Cat Grant firing a .38 calibre gun, with the titular Superman soaring in, perhaps too late. An interesting thing to notice in this issue (and especially on the cover) is that the paper stock that DC used for their comics changed, so slightly more realistic shading was possible. While it’s nowhere near the sophistication or gloss of the Image Comics stock of the time, there is an attempt at more realistic, airbrushy type shading in the colour. It works well in places, like the muzzle flash, on on Cat Grant’s cheeks and knuckles, but less so in her hair, where the shadow looks a browny green on my copy.

The interior pages open with a pretty good bit of near-silent storytelling. We are deftly shown, and not told the story—there are condolence cards and headlines, and the looming presence of a liquor bottle, until we are shown on the next page splash the real heart of the story, a revolver held aloft by Catherine Grant, bereaved mother, with her targeting in her mind the grim visage of the Toyman.

While their first few issues together meshed pretty well, it’s around this issue that the pencil/inks team of Jurgens and Rubinstein starts to look a little rushed in places. A few inkers who worked with Jurgens that I’ve spoken to have hinted that his pencils can vary in their level of detail, from very finished to pretty loose, and in the latter case, it’s up to the inker to embellish where there’s a lack of detail. Some inkers, like Brett Breeding, really lay down a heavier hand, where there’s quite a bit of actual drawing work in addition to adding value and weight to the lines. I suspect some of the looseness in the figures, as well as empty backgrounds reveals that these pencils were less detailed than we often see from Jurgens.

There’s some weird body language in the tense exchange between Superman and Cat as she angrily confronts him about his lack of progress in capturing her son’s killer—Superman looks a little too dynamic and pleased with himself for someone ostensibly apologizing. Superman taking flight to hunt down Toyman is classic Jurgens, though.

Another example of art weirdness comes on page 7, where Superman gets filled in on the progress of the Adam Morgan investigation. Apparently Suicide Slum has some San Francisco-like hills, as that is one very steep sidewalk separating Superman and Turpin from some central-casting looking punks.

The sequence of Superman concentrating his sight and hearing on the waterfront area is well-drawn, and it’s always nice to see novel uses of his powers. Tyler Hoechlin’s Superman does a similar trick quite often on the excellent first season of Superman & Lois. The full-bleed splash of Superman breaking through the wall to capture Toyman is definitely panel-of-the-week material, as we really feel Superman’s rage and desperation to catch this child-killer.

Pretty much all the pages with Cat Grant confronting Winslow Schott are well-done and tensely paced. While sometimes I think the pupil-less flare of the eye-glasses is a cop-out, it does lend an opaqueness and mystery to what Toyman is thinking. Speaking of cop-outs, the gag gun twist ending really didn’t work for me. I was glad that Cat didn’t lower herself to Schott’s level and become a killer, even for revenge, but the prank gun just felt too silly of a tonal shift for a storyline with this much gravitas. The breakneck denouement that Cat is now depending only on herself didn’t get quite enough breathing room either.

While I appreciated that the ending of this issue avoided an overly simplistic, Death Wish style of justice, this issue extends this troubling but brief era of Superman comics. The casual chalk outlines of yet two more dead children continues the high body count of the previous handful of issues, and the tone remains jarring to me. The issue is also self-aware enough to point out, again, that Schott is generally an ally of children, and not someone who historically wishes them harm, but that doesn’t stop the story from going there, in the most violent of terms. In addition to being a radical change to the Toyman character, it’s handled in a fashion more glib than we’re used to seeing in these pages. The mental health cliché of a matriarchal obsession, a la Norman Bates doesn’t elevate it either. So, another rare misstep from Jurgens the writer, in my opinion. STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I had thought for sure that Romanove Vodka was a sly reference to a certain Russian Spy turned Marvel superhero, but it turns out there actually is a Russian Vodka called that, minus the “E”, produced not in Russia, as one might think from the Czarist name, but rather, India.

While it made for an awkward exchange, I was glad that Cat pointed out how her tragedy more or less sat on the shelf while Superman dealt with the "Spilled Blood" storyline. A lesser book might not have acknowledged any time had passed. Though I did find it odd for Superman to opine that he wanted to find her son’s murderer even more than she wanted him to. Huh? How so?

I love the detail that Toyman hears the noise of Superman soaring to capture him, likening it to a train coming.

I quibble, but there’s so much I don’t understand about the “new” Toyman. If he’s truly regressing mentally, to an infant-like state, why does he wear this phantom of the opera style long cloak while he sits in his baby crib? Why not go all the way, and wear footie pajamas, like the lost souls on TLC specials about “adult babies”?

I get that Cat Grant is in steely determination mode, but it seemed a little out of place that she had almost no reaction to the taunting she faced from her child’s killer. She doesn’t shed a single tear in the entire issue, and no matter how focused she is on vengeance, that doesn’t seem realistic to me. [Max: That's because this is not just retribution, Don. It's dark retribution. We’ve been over this!]

#superman #dan jurgens #joe rubinstein #cat grant #adam morgan #toyman #dan turpin #joke guns that only exist in comics #cat grant the dark retributor #coming soon to image comics

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letsmellowjello · 4 years

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The Notebook

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: just fluff and a tiny bit of language

Summary: Anakin doesn’t know that you draw him, but then he finds your notebook.

Notes: I absolutely hate how I wrote their little battle, it just seems so slow and not exciting. Just do me a favor and try and use your imagination a bit, okay? Just an fyi that nobody asked for, I honestly think I’m the funniest person ever and I think that the title that I chose is kinda funny (it really isn’t but still). Feedback is appreciated! The gif isn’t mine

Masterlist ~ Prompts/Requests

Some would call it stalkerish, others would call it infatuation, but you called it pure boredom and a good reference. Ever since you met Anakin Skywalker, you had been drawing him. Every spare moment was spent sketching away in your little notebook the lines of his face and the swoops of his hair. When you first started doing it you saw it as purely a way to kill time and hone your own art skills, but over time it became something of a habit and maybe, just maybe you were falling for him a little bit. Whenever you had a moment, you were always itching to take out your little notebook and pencil.

Of course Anakin never knew anything about it, you didn’t intend for him to. All he knew was that you liked to draw at times and that you had a notebook. You had to admit, it was a little creepy, but what else could you do when the pictures drew themselves? Anakin was absolutely gorgeous and a wonderful model even if he didn’t know it. You would never tell him any of these things, it would only boost his ego.

“That was absolutely horrible,” You groaned as you and Anakin left the Jedi Council Chamber. You had both just debriefed the council of what had happened during you mission which was a complete and utter mess to say the least. Nobody had died thank goodness, but so many things went wrong and it had just taken so much longer than necessary.

“I can second that,” Anakin agreed. “I have to go see Obi-Wan real quick, but do you want to go grab something to eat later?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the banquet hall. See you later.” You turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction of Anakin. You always loved your little post-mission dates. They weren’t actual dates of course, but it had become something of a ritual since you were padawans to go get something to eat and just talk and wind down after a mission.

You walked into the banquet hall and chose a seat next to one of the towering windows that overlooked the city of Coruscant. There were very few people in the hall as it was an odd time of the afternoon to be getting food, but you were both off for the rest of the day so you didn’t need to worry about missing a training session or meeting.

As you sat down you sighed tiredly, it felt like you hadn’t gotten the chance to relax in forever, which wasn’t too far from the truth. During the mission, the only time that you had been able to get any amount of relaxation or rest was in between jumps and even then there wasn’t nearly enough time to properly sleep or do a little sketching. All throughout the mission and the debriefing with the council, you had been itching to take out your notebook and start drawing. So now, when you were finally able to sit back, you took out your notebook and began to transfer your creativity to the old and crinkled paper.

As time went on, Anakin’s face began to appear soon followed by his hair, neck, shoulders, and body. You had a really good memory when it came to remembering what things or people looked like so you could draw them later. The boy in your drawing was in a powerful stance with his lightsaber raised above his head to protect against his opposition. It had been when you were on Jedha for just a little bit of reconnaissance. It was supposed to be really easy and just a quick in and out. But Anakin being Anakin and you being you, of course you had gotten into trouble and had drawn some unwanted attention which then caused you to be fending off blasters while trying to escape.

The pages of your notebook were filled with similar sketches; some of him smiling, being angry, sad, thoughtful, you had it all. Anakin was just a very expressive person which made for some very interesting drawings.

Your pencil scratched lightly at the paper to shade in the shadows of his face when you felt a presence approach from behind you.

“Boo!” Whoever it was put their hands on your shoulders to scare you. Even though you knew that someone was there, you still squeaked in surprise. You quickly closed your notebook and turned to see Anakin, but not before he got a glance at your drawing. “Hey, what were you drawing?”

“Anakin! Don’t scare me like that! How did things with Obi-Wan go?” You completely ignored his question and tried to distract him away from your notebook.

“Hey hey hey, don’t change the subject. What were you drawing? Can I see? You’re always doing stuff in that notebook and I never know what it is.” He reached for it but you pulled it away.

“No! It’s none of your business!” You protested, trying to keep it away from him.

“Let me see!” He leaned across the table and tried to pull your arm closer so he could grab the book but you resisted. It soon became an all out battle to try and get the notebook with Anakin basically on top of the table and you leaning very far back in your chair. The few people who were in the hall looked over at the two of you in disdain at the ruckus that you were making. He climbed over the table but you quickly got up and tried to hide the book in your robes but then he was there preventing you from doing such a thing. The two of you fought ruthlessly against each other to obtain the book until you managed to break free of his grip and dart away but he was quick to follow.

“Y/n get back here! I just want to see your drawing!” You were now jumping over tables and chairs to try and get away. Oh how Obi-Wan would not be pleased. The entire time he was on your heals but then he slowed and extended his arm using the Force to pull you back to him.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You protested as you tried to resist him, your feet slipping on the floor helplessly. Once he had pulled you to him, he wrapped his arms around you to try and stop you from struggling.

“Y/n just- argh stop moving! Just let me see!” Even though you were a powerful Jedi, his physical strength was too much. Realizing that there was nothing that you could do and that he would find out your secret sooner or later, you gave up and stopped squirming in his grasp. You let him take the book with a reluctant and frustrated huff.

“Anakin,” you said before he opened the book, “just know that it’s not as creepy as it looks. I promise, okay?”

“Um... okay?” He gave you a funny look and then directed his attention back to the notebook. He opened it up carefully and was absolutely dumbstruck at what he found. Almost all of the pages were filled with sketches of himself in all sorts of poses and expressions. Your face burned with embarrassment and all of the sudden the floor and your shuffling feet became the most interesting thing around. “Y/n... these are amazing...” he breathed.

You mumbled a “thank you” under your breath.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with every spare second?” He turned the notebook towards you. “You’ve been drawing me? You liiiiiiike meeee” his face scrunched up as he teased you.

“Oh shut up! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You like me! You like me! Why else would you only ever be drawing me then, huh?”

“Ugh fine! So what if I do? It’s just a couple of drawings! And besides, who would like a colossal ass such as yourself?”

“You would! Obviously.” He grinned at you as you turned away from him crossing your arms and huffed. “Oh come on y/n!” He took you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. “It’s not that big of a deal, and I don’t really blame you, I am quite amazing.” He wore a smug look on his face and subtly flexed his muscles. You rolled your eyes and began to move away but he pulled you right back, not letting go of your shoulders this time. You were now painfully aware of how close you were and the mere centimeters separating the two of you.

“I um, I have to-” You spluttered in any attempt to leave the situation. You didn’t want to meet his eyes because you knew that if you did you’d just fall for him even harder and this time you might not be able to control yourself.

“Y/n...” Anakin’s voice was soft now and had lost it’s smugness and pride. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be ashamed. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin up a little bit and you reluctantly met his gaze. What you saw in his face startled you. You didn’t see that arrogant and prideful boy you knew, there wasn’t even a hint of teasing humor or cockiness in his face. Instead there was something else. Understanding, maybe? Shyness? Care? Who was this boy and what did he do with Anakin?

“It’s not okay though, I’ve broken one of the most prominent rules of the Jedi Code! I’ve fallen for someone, and another Jedi at that!”

“That makes two of us.” His voice came out as almost a whisper. You barely heard it, but when you did it took you a moment to register the gravity of his statement.

“Wait wha-?” And then the centimeters between you disappeared and his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened by then you relaxed and fell into the kiss. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You had never experienced anything like it and weren’t sure you’d ever experience anything like it again. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and yours went to hold the back of his head, pulling him closer. But unfortunately, being human, you needed to breath. You separated reluctantly, but this time the space in between you buzzed with energy.

“So um...”

“Shhh no words. Just enjoy the moment.”

“But-” Anakin placed a finger on your lips to quiet you.

“Shhh...” You obliged and gently rested your forehead on his.

After a moment of comfortable silence, he broke the quiet. “Do you think anyone saw us? What do you think will happen if the Jedi Council finds out?”

“Oh fuck the Jedi Council, what are they going to do? Get rid of their two best and youngest Jedis?” Your own words surprised you. That position was usually reserved for Anakin.

“I’d like to do that again y/n.”

“Me too...” The space began to close again and your eyes fluttered shut until the door to the banquet hall opened. You and Anakin careened away from each other to the other sides of the room.

“Ok, please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Obi-Wan stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving but humorous look on his face.

“No nope, not at all Obi-Wan.” Anakin assured him and you nodded in agreement.

“Good, because you both know the repercussions that could follow. Anakin come with me, I need to have a little chat with my young padawan.”

“But I-” He protested.

“No buts! Let's go!” He took a fistful of Anakin’s robes and began dragging him out of the hall. On his way out Anakin gave you a helpless look that you could only laugh at.

Once they left you sank down into the nearest seat hugging the notebook to your chest, still riding out the high that you had gotten from the kiss. You felt like a lovesick little schoolgirl whose crush had just winked at her from across the playground. In all your years of life you never thought you would fall so fast and so hard for anyone, let alone Anakin Skywalker. Yet here you were. And as luck, or the Force, would have it, he felt the same about you. Obviously you couldn’t be together in the conventional way, but just knowing was enough for you.

You did not know what the future held, but what you did know was that Anakin was in it.

~~~

Taglist: @umpoedameron

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin-skywalker-imagines #mellow jello imagine #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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maikatc · 4 years

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Black Sun Tale | The Wolf

i don’t know how to explain, but this is another one of those chapters i have dreamed of writing for ages, so get ready for some things to turn up

remember this is a first draft and only has minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception are always appreciated.

“Oliver is weird.” Ayu crouched back to the alley wall with his sketchbook.

“What makes you say that?” Annette asked, braiding her long strands of hair together.

The tired-eyed boy bobbed his head down, contemplating the next words.

Wouldn’t Oliver not want anyone to know?

“He- he needs a lot of help.”

Annette’s eye curved up. “Like, mental problems help?”

“That too.”

The girl rested her head upon her knees. “Is it a Black Sun gang thing you don’t want me to know about?”

Ayu chucked his pencil to the stuff-pile. “Actually, I don’t even know if it has to do with that or not.”

“Wow. That’s new,” she placed back a finger she has on the ground. “So, how’s that going for you then?”

Ayu puffed his face in pondering of her question, his cheeks growing a wrong shade of red as he held air. He blew out, “God, I don’t know I’m doing anymore. This is just wrong.” He slapped his hands against his head. “I mean, I don’t think any of this is my fault but- would it be if I let something… really, really bad happen?”

She added another finger. “Depends. Do you have good intentions?”

Ayu slipped down onto the floor. “Do you think I know if I have good intentions anymore? Almost everything I do ends up fucking itself over.”

“Well,” she drew a circle on the ground. “You don’t have to make a decision now, don’t you?”

He covered his face up with his hoodie, enjoying the new scent before it wore off. “No…”

“Then that can be your answer for now. Unless the time comes or something extremely bad happens like you said.” She scuffed up his hair. “You can just go with the flow for now and think about it in the meantime.”

Ayu matted out the mess after. “I guess you’re right.”

“Hope that settles itself soon if ya don’t want me involved.” Annette grabbed a deck of cards to the side of her. “We can make it special next week by bringing dominos,” she mumbled.

“Annette, can I text Oliver?”

She whipped her head back to him. “We haven’t given him a walkie yet?”

“Forgot to ask you at the mall.”

“Fiddlesticks,” she snapped. “Fine, just don’t go snooping around.” She handed him the phone with Oliver’s number already on the page. The picture on the side set Ayu unsettled with how unfittingly humorous it was.

He typed using his index finger and spelled out every word until autocorrect fixed up everything.

It’s me Ayu

Do you wanna come over soon? Or when you don’t have stuff to do? (2:33pm)

Not right now (2:35pm)

“Are you gonna stay on my phone for a while? I got War set up for you.”

Ayu shushed her.

You busy or something? (2:35pm)

“I should use this to practice spelling,” Ayu muttered.

“Not that bad of an idea,” Annette replied. In the corner of Ayu’s eye, she squinted her eyes against the art in a single card.

Yeah, I’m kinda busy. Dying both physically and mentally at the moment. (2:37pm)

“Fuck.”

“What’s he saying?” Annette chirped in. She peeped behind Ayu at the phone in question.

“Not now.” He shoved her aside.

Oh… do you wanna talk with me while? (2:38pm)

No. (2:38pm)

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered to himself.

Then text me if you want anything. Annette can just talk to me on the walkie if you do later (2:40pm)

Okay (2:43pm)

Ayu sighed and threw his head back at the wall.

“I hate it when they say ‘Okay’,” Annette commented.

He lowered his eyes back at her looking at the screen and handed back her phone. “Here. Delete the conversation.”

“Wha- Why?”

“Just do it,” he ordered.

Icon sounds rang as she taped through options. “Can we at least play one game before I have to go?” She scooted a set of cards to the boy.

Ayu glanced against the thin slices of paper. “You just wanna have fun, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Annette replied. “I just don’t want you to worry is all.”

***

“It’s been two hours, Lillie.” Ayu laid against his stuff-pile. “And I feel like he’s still dying.”

“What would you do if he was already dead?”

Ayu scoffed. “Like hell would I know. I learned all his ‘I wanna die’ stuff like two days ago and figured out he eats people two weeks ago. Those are two very different things and I don’t know how to feel about both.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Do you think I could come up with an answer right now?”

She chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just that Oliver’s a bit more interesting than the other monsters, isn’t he?”

“Don’t say that,” Ayu reminded. “At least… don’t think of it as a fact.”

“I wonder if you could be considered a monster too.”

Ayu snapped, “Why would I be a monster?”

“You’re the reason they’re here, right?” She joked, “Oh, what if your first wish is the reason why he’s here now?”

The boy blinked up, mouth in silence. “Fuck…” He attempted to face-palm, only to sloppily hit himself in the face with his strength, hissing and repeating, “Fuck, I didn’t even think of that!” A well of tears heated up from the pain, but the guilt overpowered it all.

Lillie gasped. Her voiced morph to that of a child as she spoke, “Ayu! Don’t do that!”

He smiled at her young voice through his tears. “You don’t have to worry, Lil. I heal fast,” he sniffed. He waved his hand across the air, hoping to be able to grab the girl’s hand. Though all he was met with was the smoke of Obodo.

He sighed as his surroundings greeted him with traffic again.

The sting from his hit rang throughout his entire body. He blanketed a cold hand on it again. With the other hand, he wiped up the droplets on his face. “God, damn it,” he whimpered.

Through his sobbing, he grabbed his journal and pencil yet again to the newest page.

November 10th, 201X

I fucked up.

The screeches of a walkie talkie’s static cut his train of thought.

“Ayu? You’re not asleep, right? Ayu?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat before answering. “What’s up?”

“The ceiling– ah– Oliver just texted me, or you technically.”

Shit. “What’d he say?”

“Kinda vague but he just said that he’s coming.”

Ayu blinked. “Wait, right now?”

“Twenty minutes ago. Just checked my phone and yeah sorry about that.”

He swatted his hand back to his almost bruise. “Okay then, gotta look decent. Bye,” he rushed and hung up.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Akeldama! I swear to God just help me for once.”

“For a wish?”

“For a favor,” he whined. “Can you just hide this thing in front of Oliver, please?”

“Why should I,” he asked.

“Because you’re the one who did the favor of hiding my entire identity from the world and this is just a small bruise, not even my eye!” He hissed at nobody.

“Ha, I thought you’d be capable enough to do it yourself at this point.”

Ayu clenched his fists. “Come on. Can you just do it already?”

“Do it yourself.”

“Wh-,” he pulled his hair. “You asshole!”

Akeldama chuckled. “You shan’t need to panic over it. Besides you better shush your mouth; Oliver’s about to arrive.”

Ayu blabbered out gibberish in reaction. “Damn it, Akeldama why do you,” he jabbered while matting his bangs over the mark.

Two steps echoed at the alley’s opening. “…Ayu?”

The boy turned around, knees wobbling in his crouched position. What stood ahead of him was as expected. Oliver’s small figure shadowed over Ayu as his breathing quickened. “Hey,” he stuttered, his eyes crooked in greeting.

Oliver’s hood hid majority of his face. He stepped down next to Ayu without any words and rested his head upon his arms and knees.

Ayu spoke out after two minutes of nothing. “How’re you doing?”

“Tired,” he replied. “Hungry and tired.”

“Then you haven’t…”

“No,” he answered. “I didn’t even want to go here but I did unconsciously.”

Ayu shook his head. “How does that even work?”

“I still don’t know after four years.” He pulled down his hood more. “Just be careful. If I go unconscious for an even longer time then that’s when it’s too late.”

Ayu chewed on his cheek. “Am I gonna know when that happens?”

“No. That’s why it sucks.” He muffled, “and I’m sorry for that.” He faced away from Ayu.

The black-haired boy tensed. Anything that happens won’t be that bad though. “How much does it hurt?”

“You wanna know,” he groaned.

Ayu nodded.

“… Life is burning and my body is aching all over,” he stated. “And there’s a pit in my chest and stomach that keeps pounding every single second that makes it even worse.”

Ayu made a hum and nodded. A cold sweat dripped from the corner of his head. “Good to know.”

A loud horn blasted throughout the streets following with a police siren. Ayu bolted his eyes up at the sound; however, as he strayed his eyes to Oliver, his shaken hands pulled down on his hood, covering up his entire face.

Ayu’s expression closed up.

“Oliver, why’re you hiding your face?”

The covered-up kid said no words; he sat still against his now crossed up arms. Only a murmur could be heard to Ayu. “You can look yourself. Don’t think there’s any point of hiding it from you.”

You are right now though, he retorted. With a hesitant hand, Ayu slip the hood off Oliver’s head.

His face was that of a fantasy. He kept his eyes shut however his skin deteriorated from his eyelids to his cheeks. His veins carried through with a clear black against his pale brown skin. The black markings crept throughout down to his neck and further to his hands as Ayu gazed. Soon, the cursed child opened up his eyes, stricken with fear. They weren’t lavished with a soft green; they were painted over with a bloody red while the white morphed to a musty yellow.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

Oliver averted his stare and sighed. “It gets worse as time goes on. Usually starts the day I have to eat.”

“Can… can anyone else see this?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. Like I guessed, you seem to be the only one.”

Ayu held no reply. The sight of someone in a state like that… God knows if I’m the one who made this happen.

He pondered over a turnover of the situation. Though, all he could turn to was a half-assed solution.

“Since no one can actually see you like this,” he started, “do you wanna go somewhere? Like the park or something?”

Oliver stared back at him with dead eyes.

“I mean- only if you feel like it. We don’t have to-”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Wait,” Ayu paused. “Yes?”

Oliver bit his bruised lip from what Ayu could tell. “We can go there.”

“I- alright then.” He jumped up, dragging Oliver up by the arm. He grew an off-beat smile. “Let’s get going.”

His face’s bruise still stung.

***

The day at Felle Park went by with only clouds striking over. There was no change with the children running around and playing and yelling all over.

Ayu let Oliver to cling on to him as support while he stumbled across the sidewalks. The extra weight was only a feather for the twig. Ayu spoke to him in casual talk, both waiting and receiving no replies.

It was only when they entered into the playground did Oliver break away from Ayu.

“Huh?”

Oliver stumbled and wobbled across his path. Ayu, with only a question mark forming in his head, followed.

“Oliver, what’d you wanna do here?”

The kid plopped his way onto the swig-set.

Ayu cocked his head as he still got no reply.

Oliver dug up his feet against the dirty mulch. And his swing swung itself back and forth with barely any force.

Ayu shrugged and sat next to him on another swig. By a big kick, he already set himself flying.

Throughout a minute, he launched himself off the swing without a shred of patience.

There wasn’t much to remember by; there were other things at the park that was more exciting in Ayu’s favor. He looked back at Oliver, still rocking his swing without effort, digging himself a little grave for his feet.

Ayu walked up towards him and sighed. “Don’t you wanna go on the slides or the merry-go-rounds?” He muttered to himself, “The merry-go-round is my favorite so-”

“I’m fine.” He answered in a mute tone. “I just go on the swings since I can think better. Plus, moving a lot makes it hurt more.”

Ayu’s brows furrowed. “Then why did you let me take you to the park?”

“I blacked out a little while you were asking, Ayu. Besides, it seemed like you wanted to.” He assured, “Now if you go and play then I disappear on you, don’t worry since I’m probably off eat-”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ayu paced. “Oliver, I’m trying my best to be a good person for you. I really am. But if you aren’t working together with me then… then-”

“Why don’t we go to the forest?”

Ayu paused. Oliver’s question lingered at the tip of his mouth. “What?”

“It’s quiet there, unlike here where everything is too loud.” He lifted his head up with a small crease of a smile. “Just nice there in general, yanno?”

Ayu leered at him. The words sat there in front of him, all suspicions and hunches charged up in between.

It’s a trap, isn’t it?

“Oliver, you remember the last time we were there?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he scoffed. “I like the silence anyways.”

“… You sure about that?”

He nodded in boring eyes. “Yes. The children here are rather annoying in reality.”

“That isn’t him.”

“Ah,” Ayu took a step back. “Let me just… think about it for a second.”

“Why don’t we just go already,” he spat. “It’s an easy question, Ayu.”

“I-”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be a good person for me?”

Ayu looked back. What exactly’ll happen if we do?

“He’ll try and eat you,” Lillie replied in his head.

But what if I can find a way to stop him? It’s not like I’ll actually die from him.

“Are you truly risking that?”

“As long as Akeldama doesn’t do anything,” Ayu sighed under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he brushed off. “But let’s go to the forest like you said.

“Thanks.” He stood up, cleaning up his cardigan from the mulch. He stepped his way towards the gate entrance of the forest. “Come on, Ayu. The playground really is hurting my ears a little.”

Please be fine. “Yeah, sure,” he replied with wary eyes but followed.

The two walked across the woods of Felle with steps rigged from one another. Ayu babbled, but also attempted to study Oliver despite how distracted his ramblings grew.

“So, you think of Lucia, right? She’s like a bad kid after Lexi died. But really, the only reason why she got mad after her death was because of her bloodline with Aria and Coco.”

“Mhm,” Oliver replied.

“She was pissed enough to just leave the group so that meant Evie and Hiro had to do the rest of the work, which that just caused an entire mess to happen.”

“…That sounds really interesting, Ayu. I like it.” Oliver gave him a warm grin.

Jokes on you, my writing is shit.

The grass they stepped upon crackled onto the muddy ground. Rocks scattered throughout the pathway leaving tripping spots.

“Are you sure ‘bout that, Ollie? I’d say my stuff is too confusing.” He scratched his head, kicking a rock and waiting for a reaction.

Oliver perked up. “It’s not that confusing, Ayu. Just takes a good mind to understand.” He chuckled, “Like solving a puzzle you can say.”

Ayu glared. “You’re just saying that because you’re smart.”

Oliver turned to him with lowered eyes. “If you’re saying I’m smart for understanding, wouldn’t that make you smart for creating it?”

“It’s not that I’m smart; I just don’t have any other life,” Ayu retorted.

Oliver only giggled. And Ayu almost found it genuine. Something gratifying to hear, in truth.

The trees’ whistles were absent compared to Ayu’s walk prior. Solely crickets and cicadas chirped in the distance. The disappearance of the cars, the crowds, the animals, the flower songs, it all isolated Ayu with what only appeared to be Oliver.

They walked on with the redhead leading the path. He passed logs with ease; he stepped along the embedded footprints through his every movement.

Ayu just tripped over a little mud valley.

Oliver smirked at him. “You haven’t been here often, haven’t you?”

Ayu lifted his head to see a blackened hand in front of him. He shook his head with eyes shut. “Just blame getting distracted.”

He dragged him up. “Doesn’t matter now. We’re almost there anyways.”

This is it. “Almost where?”

Oliver walked down further. “You’ll see… right here.” He shoved off a branch of a tree, opening a recollection.

The same stump laid barren in the middle of the dirty field. No rays of sun fell upon them as they entered. Rusty stains of blood still dressed up the grass while all the clumps of meat had disappeared.

Ayu’s mouth ran without him. “Oliver, why did you bring me here?”

The kid went to sit on the small stump. He mouthed silent words with a blank face:

“Sorry, friend.”

In only a blink, he was out of Ayu’s sight.

“Shit.” Ayu turned in all directions to find the fellow. “So that’s how he does it, huh?” He took a deep breath then a big gulp.

His eyes twitched to every direction. “S-so is it gonna be some magic?”

No reply.

“A knife?”

Silence.

“Your damn teeth…?” He huffed.

His heart raced; his breathing quickened in impatience; his hands shook with anticipation.

He whimpered out. “Oliver, I know you’re trying to kill me right now but…” He winced at pressing his bruise. “If I ever did anything, and if I ever do anything, I’m sorry. I’m just a dumbass.”

He cried to the air as his eyes burned. “I’m not gonna die but I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t care if you can’t even hear this.” He paced his way to stand on the stump. “I’m sorry that you’re in pain; I’m sorry that your life is like this now; and I’m sorry if it’s all my fault!”

His last words echoed through the field.

However, a rustle in the bush replied to him.

He whipped his head back at the sound. The bush remained mute until a familiar voice rang in Ayu’s head.

With a stone-cold voice. All he spoke to him was, “Get ready,” before the beast pounced.

In a split second, a large yet slim figure leaped out of the bushes towards Ayu. It threatened the boy with its mouth and fangs open wide in front of him.

Ayu jumped out of the way with lucky initiation. He tumbled against the ground through his fall. Flinching through his now scratched up limbs, he pushed himself up and his eyes met what was growling at him.

The figure was covered up in black fur, marching around the terrain with its boney paws and cutting up grass with its bladed claws. Its glare shined bright with vermillion while a dark mist eroded from all over its wolf-like body.

“Holy fuck,” Ayu gasped.

The wolf pounced yet again at Ayu, only for him to jump out of every attack. Left and right, he played mouse for the beast as it continued to grow more and more vicious with its snarls.

“Okay, what the hell can I do here,” he panted.

“Beat it,” he replied.

Ayu’s legs ran weak the longer the tag game went on. His late signal began buzzing in his head as he cursed it.

Time dwindled while the wolf started to match his speed.

“What the hell do you mean by just beat it? Like-” He brought himself to a halt before another attempt of clobbering him.

The boy held his breath as the wolf got closer; and right before it could make a bite, Ayu socked him.

The wolf flew off to the side of the field. It jerked against its injury and whimpered from the pain.

Ayu’s lifted his body up from impact. His ears grew white noise; his mind turned into static. He stared blankly at the creature with dead eyes.

“Beat it before it gets to others, Ayu.” The repeated command was the only thing he could here.

He strolled his way to the monster, weak and immobile. It went on to cry for its pathetic life. He started with a kick, making it grimace, then kicked it again countless of times. He was deaf to its whines and pouts, he only watched it curl up and struggle to defend itself.

It took until the thing deteriorated into a black form, deep and pure in an abyss, and it transformed back into a small boy. He shook and whimpered against the hits.

Ayu froze.

The boy sat up in quivering arms. In only a second he vomited a dark red liquid. His skin paled and his eyes widened of shock. He pulled back his burgundy hair, no speed aiming him, just staring at the pool of blood. But like an alarm, his eyes darted up to a stilled Ayu, who only stared back with burning tears.

“Y-you’re still here…”

Ayu got down to where Oliver sat and clung onto his shoulders to form a hug.

He cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated his apologies to no end.

Oliver’s movements weren’t there, no flinches, no fidgets. He mumbled out few words. “You’re not dead…”

Ayu held him back, still holding his shoulders. “I know! But I hurt you because of it like an idiot!”

“No… no, that was fine,” he argued. “You were the first to ever- wait did I make that bruise-”

“That doesn’t matter!” He sniffed, “You’re the one that’s hurt because of me.”

Oliver’s face softened. “That’s more impressive than anything, Ayu.”

“No, it isn’t!” He whined, and he didn’t stop until his throat clogged up.

Oliver’s voice returned. “Ayu, are you choking!?”

He coughed, “No- just,” coughed again, “crying a bit too much I think.”

“Oh god.” Oliver pulled a hair strand. “I forgot how dehydrated you are.”

“It’s fine-”

Oliver stood up immediately. “Here. I’ll get water for you.” He flinched and pressed on his stomach. “Christ- I’ll just be paying you a favor of being, well, alive.” He dashed off without Ayu’s ability to speak.

“Wait!” His voice rasped and burned his throat. “You don’t need to do that!” He stumbled up and ran after him.

***

Once they gathered themselves up, Ayu and Oliver traveled back to the alleyway. The streets still filled with chatter and city smoke worked alongside the sky to keep the world grey.

“How did you manage to buy a six pack?” Ayu sat beside Oliver. He clenched on a water bottle in his hand and sipped upon it.

“Easy: water’s cheap and I always have spare change in my pockets,” Oliver noted. His arm wrapped around his stomach; Ayu stared at the motion.

He questioned, “You’re more awake now, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “You woke me up pretty- not entirely harsh but you were just trying to save yourself.” He hissed at the wound. “I’m still probably gonna get sleepy again after a while so… might as well tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Oliver fidgeted a hand on a loose cardigan string. His markings still laid across his body and the rims of his eyes started bleeding into a black as well. “Coincidentally enough, the day you first saw me like that, I met someone while I was unconscious… I’ve been talking to them since then ‘cause it seems as if she knows what’s going on with me.”

You mean the guy you talked to a few times? “Who is that?”

He sighed, “From what she claims, she’s my biological mom.”

Ayu choked on his own water. “What?”

“That’s how I know the fact that I won’t change.” Ayu caught the kid’s watery eyes.

“… But what if-”

“And apparently,” Oliver rambled, “she just wanted me to live a ‘normal life’ for seven years straight until it all hit me like a brick but even when it started, she’s hasn’t been able to talk with me until now.”

An idea circulated in Ayu as Oliver spoke. “W-wait, so does she know your entire situation?”

“Yeah.”

“And just can’t say it directly?”

“Probably.”

Ayu took a chug. “Can’t you ask her about how to deal with this then? Like when you attacked me, it looked like you were using some power.”

“That’s right,” Oliver added. “I forgot but, what exactly happened while I was asleep?”

“Attacked me in a wolf form. Thought you were another monster like a moron and almost tried to kill you I think.”

“Oh God.” Oliver placed a hand over his head.

“Still sorry ‘bout that.”

“Still more of a me-problem.”

Ayu cleared his throat. “Okay but yeah, you may be less sad if you actually know what you’re doing in the first place from her.”

Oliver remained silent, then took a deep breath. “… How did I not think of that before?”

“I dunno,” Ayu shrugged. “Maybe we’re both dumbasses.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

No replies or comments were made for a good four minutes. Ayu wandered in thought to reach for another question.

“You said your mom isn’t allowed to explain things, right?”

He nodded.

“Who’s not allowing her,” Ayu asked.

Oliver left his hand on his chin. “She doesn’t say their name, just that they’re their leader.”

“Their leader? Of what?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that too,” Oliver rushed. “My mom’s like 4 centuries old and lives in an immortal society that has to kill for their monthly membership payment.”

Ayu stilled. “Okay, what the fuck is your family tree?”

“Based on what I can tell,” Oliver stated, “fucked.”

Ayu sided his lips. “The leader’s the one who makes the rules for ‘em, right?”

“Yep.”

He took another bottle of water. “Do you think I can come with you at some point?”

Oliver raised a brow.

“I feel like the leader may have something to do with the monsters.”

“And why do you think that?”

… There’s no evidence, huh? “Just a hunch. Like, a vague dude who’s some cruel ruler? Sounds like a normal villain.”

Oliver squinted his eyes towards him, but shrugged. “Guess that can make sense.”

In a split second, Oliver shook forward from the alley wall, making a yelp. “Fuck!” He pressed on his shirt.

Ayu paled, his eyelids pinching up. “You still need to eat… don’t you?”

“It’s fine.” Oliver raised his hand towards Ayu. “I probably have enough strength to just- …”

“Just what? Eat?”

“… Kinda.” Oliver sighed. “I forgot to tell you one last thing.”

Ayu bit his cheek. “What?”

His hand rested on his left arm, grabbing it. “I’ve had my black sun mark for a while now. But, it popped up somewhere that I didn’t wanna show.”

Ayu took a glance at his movements. “Your arm, right?”

He nodded. “I should explain… Remember how I starve a lot?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, usually tend to treat myself when I can’t handle it much longer.” He trembled. “After I think the first year, I started realizing how good… it tastes. But I didn’t wanna hurt anyone. So,” He lifted up his sleeve.

What bared on his wrist, right on top of a vein, was his black sun mark; however, further down his mark varied in streaks of scars and cuts. The blood seeped of violent reds and purples. And through some courses of marks, black began to show through the blood scabs.

Ayu gawked at the amount of lines made by the child. Thoughts ran throughout his little brain and screamed out to him from the sight. You’re the reason.

It almost brought him to tears again.

“The blood helps me distract myself.”

Ayu lifted his head up to Oliver, concern and guilt written all over his face. Though, Oliver faced away, and Ayu couldn’t assume any other face aside from loathing.

Ayu took a gulp. He whimpered, “Stop… don’t do that anymore, please.”

“It’s alright, Ayu. It heals right after I get some food.”

“But that’s too much of a risk, Ollie.”

“Trust me,” Oliver reassured. “It’s okay that I do this. I’m careful about it.”

He huffed, “You have a damn good reason for starving yourself. This’ll just make it too much.” He grabbed the spot where the sun mark was.

Oliver squeaked. “Ayu- You’re holding on too tight again.”

“Promise me to just- …” Ayu breathed, lessening his grip. “Just do it less.”

He let go of Oliver, face ridden in regret.

Oliver swiped his arm back and covered up the scars with his sleeve again. “I… thank you.” He clenched onto his shirt as he stood up, already walking away from the conversation and Ayu. “I should probably get going.”

Ayu avoided his eyes again. “Are you going to…?”

“Not sure,” he answered. “I probably will eventually.”

“Right.” He nodded it off.

They stayed in position for a time’s notice.

“Sorry about hitting you,” Oliver added. “… See ya.”

Ayu didn’t watch as he walked away. He instead covered up his bruise again, shame whistling out of his entire being.

“Bye.”

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gideonaceleigh · 5 years

Text

Camp NaNoWriMo Week 3

Weekly Round Up!!

Word Count: 53,864/10,000 broke 50k what’s upppp

Average Words per Day: 2,564

That’s nearly 30k this week?? I’m mostly building off of what was already written but it still counts okay??

I have also come up with a working title! PROTOTYPE (I’m not completely sold but it’s definitely something to build off of)

~Day 15 ~ Day 16 ~ Day 17 ~ Day 18 ~ Day 19 ~ Day 20 ~ Day 21~

Tag List: @oscarfuckingwilde @minnowf @dove-actually @dahladahlabills

I’m posting a (much) longer excerpt of a chapter I worked on because #fakegirlfriends Caris (approx. 5,300 words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“This is insane,” hisses Talis, for the fifth time that day.

“I know,” says Iris, also for the fifth time that day.

“By insane I mean suicidal.”

“I appreciate the good vibes you’re sending my way.”

“You know I’m always here for you,” Talis nods sagely.

The tablet is propped back up on its stand on the table under the window so Talis can see the whole room and be a part of the group as Iris and Cat prepare for the gala. They aren’t going to be able to bring much with them. Cat bought a, very tiny, purse while they were hunting for appropriate black-tie attire, but it’s built more for fashion than practicality and therefore barely large enough for them to stuff their ID’s and forged invitation to Claire Bennet plus one, in.

M’Lell didn’t send Iris many documents, but what little they did is chock full of relevant information. Iris spent the morning memorizing the positions of the events security detail and planned watch routes while transferring the documents that sketch out the floor plan of the building to the chip in her arm for ease of access. She feels as prepared for this job as one can be, considering the circumstances, and counts herself lucky not to be going in entirely blind.

While waiting for the taxi Iris gives herself a final look over in the mirror, gently dabbing at her shimmering eyeshadow and lipstick.

Pleased with the outcome she turns to Talis. “What do you think?”

“Very classy. And inconspicuous.”

“Just what I was going for.”

“I know.”

Iris glares at her. “If you know so much then tell me this: where exactly will Ahn have the device?”

Talis disappears from the screen to be replaced by swirling purple mist and black letters slowly pushing through. ‘Try again later’ it reads.

Iris doesn’t bother replying, simply slams the tablet screen down, waits for Talis’ muffled cursing, and shoves it in her purse.

“We ready to go then?” says Cat, emerging from the bathroom. She’s gone with a similar color scheme to Iris’ dress, black with silver accents, though she’s chosen a pair of slacks and suit jacket over a silver button up shirt. Her makeup is more involved than Iris’ however, choosing a bolder red lipstick and dramatic winged eyeliner.

“Whenever you are,” says Iris, admiring her style.

The taxi is waiting for them outside the hotel and whisks them away through the night, passing twinkling streetlamps and bright shop windows. With proper rest the trip through town goes significantly smoother for Iris and she’s able to step out of the cab without the same feeling of nausea. She readjusts the hem of her dress that comes to rest halfway down her thigh, while Cat steps out beside her and takes a minute to process their surroundings.

Ambassador Ahn’s gala is being host at the Galactic Institute of Art and Science, and it is huge. Not big, not large, not giant, but monumentally huge. It takes up an entire block at the center of the city and containes nearly 400 floors. The first ten or so levels are dedicated to hospitality: restaurants, café’s, ballrooms, meetings rooms, etc.; all decorated welcomingly and designed for comfort.

The rest of the floors are split by subject, with art centered rooms on the lower levels, and science higher up. The floors are designed for efficiency and to keep visitor’s attention on the displays. The displays are brought in from planets all over the galaxy and represents the creativity, ingenuity, and genius of a hundred-separate species. Nothing in the known universe could ever come close to comparing to the sheer size and quality of these exhibits.

Not that Iris is going to get much of a chance to look around. In fact, if she’s lucky, she won’t have to look far at all. She’s hoping for a fast entrance and an even faster exit, as long as the universe decides to work in her favor for once.

The night is warm, it’s early summer, but she can’t help a shiver and the goose bumps that form along her arms as she passes between the rose gardens lining the path in front of the museum. She and Cat join the small throng of people making their way up the bone white, marble steps.

They fall into line together and Iris feels Cat jump in surprise when she takes her hand with no warning. Cat looks from their now linked hands, and back at Iris who looks determinedly ahead.

“What?” she starts to ask, but Iris interrupts her.

“We’ll be less obvious like this.”

“Oh,” says Cat. “That’s fair. I usually work alone, and I have to say having a so called partner in crime is a completely different ballpark.”

Iris spares her a smile. “You’ll get used to it in no time. You might even find you like having a partner to help you out,” she says and winks at Cat.

Iris turns her focus on the security guard they’re now in front of. Cat presents the invitation, and both of their ID’s are scrutinized in great detail, but they’re waved through with no problems. A second guard checks Cat’s bags and scans them, taking an extra close look at Iris’ tablet. The machine beeps at Cat and she’s called out of the line, but the harried looking guard waves her through almost before a feeble excuse about jewelry passes her lips.

Annoyance flirts through Iris’ brain. Cat is obviously hiding something in her jacket she didn’t warn Iris about. Cat refuses to meet her eye as they walk the final few feet and into the main foyer. Iris shakes off her annoyance, it isn’t fair of her to expect Cat to tell her everything when they barely know each other and chooses to focus on the room in front of her.

During normal day to day operations the lobby is an impressive site. There’s a mural of the galaxy with every star and planet painted in excruciating detail. On the floor is a mosaic of the more immediate solar system done with the same unbelievable attention to detail. There are shades of green and blue Iris has never seen artificially replicated so perfectly before.

The lobby is divided into twelve sections marked off by pillars made with the same marble as the stairs outside. The room is bathed in a soft yellow light that mimics the tone and movement of thousands of candles everywhere. There are a hundred tables arranged orderly around the room with white tablecloths and silver center pieces. The overall effect is ethereal and mystical. Talis would have loved it if she could see it, but Iris can’t risk being found out, not this early in the night.

“Wow,” says Iris.

“I know,” says Cat.

“Ma’am?” An attendant grabs her attention. “What is your name?”

“Claire Bennet,” she says after a short pause. She’s been caught off guard and hopes he doesn’t notice the hesitation.

Like a professional he ignores her near fatal blunder with nothing more than a quirked eyebrow and checks their logs. “If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll escort you to your table.”

“Thank you,” says Iris. She smiles and rests her hand in the crook of Cat’s elbow.

He leads them across the hall to one of the back tables half hidden in shadow. The positioning suits Iris just fine, she has full view of the hall, is seated next to the less important guests that don’t draw much attention and is partially hidden herself.

She sits back in her seat, sips at the wine the attendant pours for her, and watches as the rest of the guests mingle and get settled. Species of every shape, size, and color wander around the lobby oh-ing and ah-ing over the decorations. Their table gradually fills but they are ignored, and they neglect their neighbors.

Cat sits in the seat next to her, but she leaves her drink untouched. While Iris scouts out their surroundings, she scours through the program the attendant leaves them.

“No mention of the prototype here,” she says, too low for any of their neighbors to hear.

“Not much of a surprise there. We’ll stay here until everything gets going. Just follow my lead.”

“You got it, boss.”

Iris rolls her eyes at the over exaggerated deference.

Soon enough the lights dim, and an expectant hush falls over the crowd. A stage lifts from the floor near the opposite side of the hall and a spotlight illuminates a polished wood podium. Ambassador Kimiko Ahn is known the galaxy over as a woman who likes to put on a show, and tonight she doesn’t disappoint.

Anticipation begins to mount to a soundtrack of classical music gradually growing louder and more urgent until the audience is on their feet. It isn’t until the song hits the pinnacle of its score and the crowd, as a collective, feels about to burst that Ahn steps gravely under the light.

Immediately a thunderous round of applause erupts. Iris clamps her hands over her ears in a fruitless attempt to muffle the overwhelming noise and notices Cat follow her lead out of the corner of her eye. Ahn, on the other hand, preens under the concentrated attention of so many people and seems to absorb some of that energy into herself.

“Thank you. Thank you, everybody,” she says after a few minutes and gestures for the audience to quiet down. They follow her direction and settle down, eager for the speech she’ll open the gala with.

“I appreciate you taking time out of your busy lives to come to my little get together here tonight.” She pauses in a very obviously rehearsed manner for the bit of laughter that receives to pass. Two screens are lowered next to her, one on either side of the stage for those in the very back, like Iris and Cat, to get the full Ambassador Kimiko Ahn charm effect. This means that Iris can see the nauseatingly self-congratulatory smile Ahn flashes the audience while she magnanimously waits for the laughter to die down.

“Now, I won’t take up much of your time. I’m sure you’re all eager to get through dinner and start exploring my personal collection. Just a few announcements. This floor is free for you to roam, there are over a dozen different displays for you to peruse through and I hope you enjoy them all.

You will have limited access to the second floor where I have a few more interactive activities for you all to play around with, including a rediscovered holographic game we found in the ruins of Allorn. If you don’t mind me say it is very retro, and much fun. And of course, the bar will be open for the duration of the night.

I won’t monopolize your time further tonight, but please feel free to ask me any questions you may have throughout the night. I could talk for an eternity about everything you will see on display tonight. Again, thank you so much for coming out tonight and I hope you enjoy yourself.”

The stage goes dark and Ambassador Ahn is lost to shadow. A miniature army of waiters come swarming from the edges of the room and descend on the guests with trays of food. The attentive mood that had overtaken the crowd snaps, and is replaced by the sounds of conversation, laughter, and clinking cutlery that now ring out across the room.

While everyone else relaxes and turns their attention to dinner Iris goes on full alert and prepares to make her escape to somewhere a little less populated, but with a lot more security.

There’s a dark hall practically directly behind her. A quick glance around her shows everyone in the immediate vicinity preoccupied with food and conversation. She taps Cat on the arm who in turn grasps her purse close to her person. They slip down the shadowy hall and hide around the first corner.

Iris pulls out her tablet from one of the roomy pockets in her dress and thumbs on the flashlight. She lights up her left forearm and touches the swirly, flower tattoo. She watches as the ink swirls against her skin and forms into the rough outline of the buildings floor plans.

The map shows them on the east side of the facility and in the hall leading to an area generally reserved for employee use, which means it will be largely abandoned during a private function, and has halls leading to all sections of the first floor while avoiding the main floors. She’s reasonably certain she knows where Ahn would stash the device, at least generally, if she brought it with her. The problem being it’s on the complete opposite side of the museum and she’ll have to sneak past the kitchens to get there.

Iris flicks the light off and presses herself against the wall, pulling Cat along with her, when she hears the low murmur of voices and hurried footsteps coming towards her. Iris watches a light bob up and down as the intruders make their way towards them. There’s no way they won’t be noticed. They’re still close enough to the banquet they can easily feign ignorance and claim they got lost on their way to find a restroom.

But if they do that, they’ll probably insist of walking them back to the main room. They need another guise, another reason why they need to be here. Some excuse of privacy they’re likely to empathize with and be willing to overlook their voyeur into a restricted area.

They grow closer, Iris is able to pick out a few words from their conversation such as ‘happy’ and ‘dessert’ and figure they’re part of the serving staff. That doesn’t stop her heart from racing at the idea of being caught.

The glow of the intruder’s light is about to hit them and Iris panics, jumping on the first idea that pops in her stressed mind.

She grabs Cat by her jacket lapels, pushes her up against the wall, stands on her very tippy toes, and presses her lips against hers.

Iris can feel Cat, understandably tense up at first. She is surprised, however, by how quickly she relaxes under Iris’ grip and begins to return the kiss, bending her knees to make them more level with one another.

It almost makes Iris forget why they started this in the first point. It doesn’t last long.

“What have we got here?” asks a voice behind them.

Iris whips around, immediately covering her eyes with a hand to protect them from the bright light shining right at them.

“The parties back that way you know,” says the second party, obviously struggling to push back her giggles.

“I didn’t think anyone was down here,” Iris says, not having to fake the shaking in her voice. “We,” she pauses to look at Cat and grab her hand, “were just looking for a bit of privacy.”

“We can see that,” says the first person. “We’ll pretend we didn’t see you if you promise to rejoin the gala soon. And under no circumstances go further down the hallway. We got a deal?” he asks.

“Of course, thank you so much. I appreciate your discretion here.”

“Don’t mention it,” says the woman. “And don’t have too much fun.” She winks at them.

Iris sighs in relief as they disappeared down the hall. She taps the light back on, this time on a lower setting, and sets off down the hall with Cat in tow.

“What? You’re just going to do that and act like nothing happened?” accuses Cat, tension clear in her voice.

“I told you, acting like a couple makes us a lot less conspicuous.”

“You’re a lot wilder than anyone ever gives you credit for, Iris.” Something close to admiration lacing her tone and replacing the tension.

“I ran off with the son of my families arch-nemesis for two years. What part of that doesn’t scream ‘wild’ to you?”

“Fair enough. Where are we going anyways?” asks Cat.

“We need to get to the other side of the buildings. Unfortunately, is seems the best route there is going to take us straight passed the kitchen.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best plan.”

“It’ll be fine. Like I said, just follow my lead and be quiet,” says Iris. They come to an intersection and she carefully pokes her head out and check that there’s no one there.

“I don’t think being quiet is going to get us passed the kitchen.” Cat rushes after Iris as she jogs through the intersection.

“Thanks, Cat. I’ll figure out a way passed it once I get a look at it.”

“Planning on the fly. I love it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not. I’m going to go with you’re being sincere and ignore any evidence to the contrary.”

Iris pretends she doesn’t hear Cat’s responding chuckle as they resume their trek to the west side of the building. The hallways are pleasantly deserted, it seems almost too easy and she can’t help but feel like they’re walking straight into a trap. Even if they are there’s not much more for her to do but march into the lion’s den, head held high.

Iris and Cat are a few halls down from the kitchens before she starts to notice any signs of life in these side paths. Iris can hear the busy sounds of clinking pots and escaping steam, along with the scent of spices wafting over her.

She waves Cat closer to the wall and inches forward a few more inches until she hovers around a corner where she can observe the kitchen without being seen for a few minutes while she tries to come up with a plan to get passed.

There isn’t much going on this side of the kitchen as there is at the second door closer to the lobby, but every once in a while one of the cooking assistances bustles around fetching some pot or other for the chef. Iris begins to brace herself to grab Cat and make a mad dash by the kitchen door when one of the event’s security guards decides to make a grand appearance.

This guard isn’t from the same group keeping keen eyes on the guests. This one comes from Ahn’s personal contingent composed largely of Walyer’s. A species of large, green specimens with thick, scale like skin, and anything from two to six horns framing their faces making their large eyes, which already take up nearly half of their faces as is, seem even larger.

The bottom half of their face is occupied by a small mouth with lips that are eternally held open by large, yellowing fangs. Walyer’s often find themselves employed as personal security and prison transports due to their intimidating features and ability to exert brute force. Iris has never met a Wayler who stands less that nine feet tall and isn’t too broad to fit through standard doorways.

This Wayler is particularly intimidating. They’re nearly eleven feet tall with two giant guns strapped to its back, a belt of vicious looking knives around its waist, and a vest of grenades and other explosive weapons attached.

Iris swore she felt her heart seize and a wave of dizziness wash over, she feels herself start to hyperventilate.

“Well fuck,” she says, and immediately clamps a hand over her mouth as she inches back to where she left Cat. Luckily the Wayler doesn’t seem to hear her. She grabs Cat and scurries down the hall to hide behind a large potted plant, crouching down as low as she can. A few seconds of clearing her mind and taking deep, calming breathes and she is back in the moment. She slowly loosens her death grip on Cat’s arm and cautiously peeks around the plant back the way she’s come.

“What the hell, Iris?” Cat finally asks, now that Iris doesn’t appear on the verge of bolting out of this galaxy.

Iris peeks around the plant and finds there’s no sign of the Wayler so she relaxes, slumping with her back against the wall, and rests her head in her hands.

“Wayler,” she says.

Cat swears. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I very much wish that were so,” says Iris, not lifting her head.

“Okay,” says Cat. She sits down next to Iris and thrums her fingers against her leg. “Okay, we need to leave. We can go back to the hotel and work on a new plan. We have time, and this is officially too dangerous.”

“I thought I was the one in charge here? Can’t you just,” Iris waves her hands around, “just siren it or whatever?”

“Oh, come on. First of all, that is so not how that works. And secondly, you don’t actually plan on going through with this?”

Iris raises an eyebrow at her and shrugs her shoulders, already inching forward again.

“Wow. I didn’t believe them, but you really are full hardy aren’t you?”

Iris ignores this as she resumes her earlier spot at the corner peeking into the kitchen, Cat sliding along behind her trying to stick close.

“You know there’s another reason Zerich chose me to come with you. It’s because no one else wanted to be dragged along on your desperate bid for freedom. Your reputation precedes you,” says Cat, hissing the last part under her breath.

Iris rolls her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. There’s nothing desperate about this. I’m just eager for it to be over.”

“Either way, you’re willing to get us killed.”

“You don’t have to babysit me you know. You are free to go back to the hotel. I know you can track my tablet so it’s not like I’m going to disappear if I get back out,” says Iris. She’s growing increasingly annoyed at the delay, she could have gotten passed the kitchen and on her way in the amount of time they’ve spent bickering.

“And miss the fun?” Iris is surprised by the sudden smile on her face. “Not for anything. I’m ready for an Iris brand adventure.” Cat pulls a compact pistol from her inside jacket pocket and gestures to the kitchen with it. “Lead the way, I’m right behind you.”

“I don’t understand you.” Iris shakes her head, happy in the fact that even though Cat kept its existence from her it’s coming in handy now.

“Good.”

“Right.” She motions for Cat to be quiet and strains her ears, searching for any sound or sign of movement. Hearing nothing, she ducks her head out for a quick look. Seeing nothing, she takes a deep breath and looks to Cat.

“It’s not that far,” whispers Iris.

“Make a run for it?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Iris rolls her shoulders, sends out a plea for success to the universe, and nods to Cat. Cat nods back, and they throw themselves down the hall. They bound passed the kitchen door in a few, sprawling strides, until they reach the shadows of the next hall where they can’t be seen.

Iris slips at the last minutes and ends up scrapping her knee and ripping her leggings in the process. Cat partially catches her and pushes her up against the wall and they freeze, breathing heavily and listening again for any indication they’ve been discovered. Hearing nothing again, they relax, and take stock of the position they’ve found themselves in. Eye to eye, face to face, so close they can feel each other breath and uncomfortably reminiscent of their earlier farce.

The two quickly push apart, breaking eye contact, and take a moment to compose themselves and catch their breath.

There’s no sign of the Wayler. While they’re large, they’re deceptively quiet. Iris can only hope it went through the kitchen and out the other side.

Taking advantage of this quiet moment Iris studies the map on her arm. She waits for it to update and reorient itself to her new position. The situation is getting too nerve wracking for her taste and she’s hoping to find a new route to their destination.

Preferably one unreachable by Wayler’s.

There’s a room in the west wing where the museum catalogs and cleans their items. Some of these items get left in the room for days, so the room is heavily protected and seems the best place to keep something valuable holed up for a night.

She moves the map around, trying to find a new angle, as if that will make a secret route magically appear. Which is exactly what happens. She zooms in to try and get a closer look at their current location and a hidden lower layer of the map appears, revealing a series of vents she didn’t notice before traveling right over where she needs to be. She dances in place as a silent victory cheer.

“What did you find?” asks Cat.

Iris looks up and flashes her light along the hall looking for the entrance to the vent and there, just a few feet to her left on the ceiling, is a grill just big enough for her to squeeze through. Though that assumes she’ll be able to reach that high and force it open in the first place.

She smiles.

“Slight change of plans. I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Not particularly.”

“Good, because I am,” says Iris.

Before she’s able to psych herself up and find a way to get into the vent she hears footsteps. She hurriedly turns off her light and contorts herself into a small, formless blob against the wall until they pass. They have the good fortune of being in a hall that has the lights turned off and easily go unseen.

Light back on she places herself under the vent and slides her hand as far up the wall as she can and finds that, even on her tiptoes, her fingertips are barely able to graze the bottom of the grate guarding the vent.

“Oh, that is cute,” says Cat with a giggle.

“Shut up,” says Iris. “If you don’t have anything productive to add to the conversation then leave me alone. It’s not like you’re much better off.”

“No. But this might help,” she says hauling over a bench Iris overlooked.

Iris stares at it for a few minutes, annoyed at herself for not seeing it first.

“Be my guest.” She moves to the side to give Cat room to position the bench and step up on it.

It’s only about knee high, and doesn’t seem particularly sturdy, but it gives her the extra boost needed making it the best, if only, option she has.

Iris lifts the tablet up until it lights up the entrance to the vent, so Cat is able to get a better look at it as she clambers onto the table. She takes a moment to find her center of gravity, then digs her fingernails between the metal grate and the wall and yanks.

A shower of plaster pours down, sounding like raindrops hitting the ground as they fall to the floor. Covered in a smattering of dust Cat muffles a cough in the crook of her elbow. She crouches down on the table and passes the grate to Iris, who in turn hands her the tablet-turned-flashlight, and gently leans the grate against the legs of the bench on the floor.

This finished, Cat squints up into the dark vent with reluctance.

“It’s disgusting,” she says.

“Would you rather risk running into the Waylor again?”

Cat sighs but doesn’t respond. Iris watches as she grasps the edges of the vent opening, experimentally jumps up and down testing the vents durability, and heaves herself up and in. She wedges her elbows in, hooks a knee over the edge, and pulls herself forwards. The vent’s only a few inches wider than her shoulders and it takes her a few seconds of calculated wiggling to get fully inside.

Iris leaves her alone as she lays on her stomach, gasping for breath, and feels grateful that she wasn’t the one to go in first. She’s also grateful she’s had the foresight to wear a dress with a flexible skirt and practical flats.

“You doing okay in there?” she asks after what seems like an appropriate amount of time passed.

“I am absolutely fantastic. I love having spiders for dinner,” Cat says. Her voice is muffled and has an odd echo to it, like she’s speaking into a tin can. Which she essentially is, all things considered.

“Your sacrifice for the greater good has been noted. You about ready to keep going?”

“Why did I go first when you’re the one with the map anyways?”

Iris rolls her eyes. “I loaded the map on the tablet too. Just follow the purple line I laid out; it’ll be fine.”

“You say that now, but I’m not certain you’re going to be feeling that way once you’re in here, Miss Claustrophobic.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m trying not to think about it so how about you scoot up a bit and let me get this over with already?”

Cat moves forward another foot, giving Iris just enough room to haul herself in. She places her hands on the vent and pushes herself up until the top half of her is lying down. Her feet scramble under her, trying to find something to gain purchase on. She should have made an actual plan here before jumping in. She doesn’t find anything to brace her feet against, but there are a few crevices along the wall she’s able to dig her fingers into and pull herself the rest of the way in with.

She stays where she is, resting her head on her arms for a few minutes trying to steady her breathing. She can feel her heart beginning to race and just the thought of looking up and seeing nothing, but grey walls makes her nauseous.

“Oh my god,” she says. She can feel her chest begin to constrict as panic sets in.

“Don’t worry, it gets better.” Iris can feel the vibrations of her voice through the vent.

“What, are there scorpions up ahead or something?”

“No, I actually mean it. It opens up quite a bit just up ahead.”

“If you’re fucking with me, I will cry. Forewarning.”

“Get up here, Iris.”

Iris groans, but she finally lifts her head, doing everything in her power to focus solely on Cat ahead of her.

Cat is right, the vent opens up considerably just a short distance away. Iris crawls her way forward until she’s able to sit up next to Cat.

“This map is stupid,” says Cat.

“Be nice to my map.”

“I’m sorry map,” says Cat.

“Thank you. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s rather bare bones don’t you think? How am I supposed to figure out where the hell we are?”

“Let me see it,” says Iris, yanking it from Cat’s grasp when she holds it out behind her.

“Rude, but okay.”

Iris reorients the map until it’s zoomed in on their location and a purple line tracing their path through the maze of vents appears.

“Do you want it back, or do you want me to navigate for you?” Iris holds the tablet out to Cat.

“I think I can handle from here. It’s not like there are a lot of actual direction changes or something,” says Cat. “You ready to go again?”

Iris rubs at her face, trying to pull all the cobwebs from her face. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She hopes the map M’Lell gave her is accurate, it has been up to now, because the idea of being trapped up here makes her breath catch in her throat. She forces that train of thought out of her mind and focuses on the task at hand. Namely not dying.

#writblr #amwriting #camp nano #camp nano roundup #wip silver #silver: excerpt #silver: caris

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urdearestmom · 6 years

Note

hey!! i really like ur fics! if you do combo prompts, maybe 8 and 21 from the angst/fluff prompt list?? ur awesome!!

tysm anon!! i’m happy you like my fics :) this is something i started writing a little while ago actually (inspired by the Danny Don’t You Know music video and also the makeover scene in s1e4 of ST that i think about a lot) but your ask gave me what i needed to finish it!! i hope you enjoy it :D

prompt 8- “I’m never letting you go.”

prompt 21- “We’ll figure this out.”

“Hey, um, I’m gonna bring you something special tomorrow. A surprise.”

“Surprise?”

“A surprise is-”

“I know what a surprise is, Mike.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Um, anyway, it’s from Nancy. She thought you might like to have it.”

“Okay.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“At ten- ten-fifteen?”

“Ten-fifteen, yeah!”

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

Unfortunately, he was, and he was stressing about it the entire time he was biking to the cabin. It was because he’d been dumb and gone back to sleep after his painstakingly-set alarm woke him. Luckily, he only ended up being about ten minutes late so El hadn’t had time to worry yet, although she did give him a reproachful look when she let him into the cabin.

“I know I’m late, and I’m sorry,” he said, quickly setting the bag he’d brought on the table and opening his arms for the hug he knew El was waiting for. It’d become their customary greeting (she also hugged all their other friends whenever she saw them- including Max- but Mike’s hugs were special, apparently).

Pulling away, El’s face lit up when she looked at the bag on the table. “Is this the surprise?”

Mike nodded, about to explain, when Hopper came out of the bathroom. “I’m going to work now so you kids better behave.”

He put on his hat and grabbed his keys as the two kids saluted him exaggeratedly. El had picked it up from Dustin after he did it in front of her once, and after she started doing it the rest of her friends followed suit. Hopper always gave them dirty looks whenever they did it, but that was the intended result, after all. Pissing Hopper off just a little bit was a lot of fun.

They heard him grumble as he went out the door. “Goddamn kids…” The Blazer roared to life on the other side of the trees and faded away down the road before the two turned back to the table.

Mike couldn’t help but smile at the glee on El’s face. All he ever wanted was for her to be happy and if surprises were the way to do it, he was going to surprise her a whole lot.

She untied the knot at the top of the bag without touching it, too excited at the prospect of what could be in it to waste time untying it, and then dumped the contents out. Mike stood behind her with a wide grin, waiting for her reaction.

“Makeup?”

“Yeah! The eyeshadow was Nancy’s, but she said she never used it. It’s not really her colours,” he explained. “She thought you might like it, but she wanted to give you some other stuff too so she bought it the other day.”

El opened an eyeshadow palette to reveal varying shades of purple as well as a nice square of black at the end of the row. Spread out on the table were a tube of mascara, an eyeliner pencil, and a small tub of lip gloss. She nodded appreciatively, eyeing the different colours.

“What’s this for?” El asked, putting down the shadow and picking up the eyeliner.

“Oh, that’s eyeliner,” answered Mike, pointing around his right eye with his finger. “You sort of draw with it around your eyes. Nancy says it makes them pop.”

“Can you show me?”

Mike felt his face heat up a little and he leaned against the table. “I mean- I’m a boy, El, boys don’t usually do this kind of stuff.”

El tilted her head curiously. “But you did it for me… that time. It was good.”

“It’s cause Nancy made me let her practice on me when I was little,” he said, nervously tapping his fingers. “And then she thought it would be awesome if I could learn to do it too so I could do it for her when she’s lazy. I never have, but I guess it came in-”

There was a thump outside and the pair rushed to the window to risk a tiny peek through the curtains. They breathed twin sighs of relief upon seeing that it was just a bird that seemed to have flown directly into the cabin wall and not someone coming to kidnap El. There hadn’t been word of anything in months, but everyone was still cautious.

El turned back to the table and then looked at Mike again. “Please?”

He relented. He didn’t know how to say no to her, really. “Do you want me to do it on you or on me?”

Her eyes widened. “You can do it on you?”

“I mean-” Mike started to blush again. “I can, yeah. To show you how to do it yourself. I’ve never done eyeliner, though, Nancy just had me watch her.”

“Try!”

He sighed. “Alright, we need a mirror.”

A few moments later both teens had squeezed into the tiny bathroom which contained the only mirror in the cabin, El holding the black pencil out to Mike. He took it and stared at himself in the mirror, hesitating.

El playfully pushed his shoulder. “Show me!”

Mike sighed. “Okay,” he said, leaning toward the mirror and closing his right eye. “I think you kind of just… draw a line across your eyelid.” He did so and then leaned back to have a look. “Ugh, why is it so patchy?”

El quirked an eyebrow. “Patchy?”

“Yeah, see how it’s not a solid line? It looks like I drew it with a crayon, ew.”

She giggled at Mike’s irritated expression and poked his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.” She watched, enraptured, as he went over the line again, darkening it until it looked more solid.

He smiled, finally satisfied. “There you go, that’s more like it!” He paused to look in the mirror again, as if to confirm. “You can also go under your eye if you want to, though if you do you gotta be careful not to stab yourself in the eye. I think I learned most swear words from the amount of times Nancy stabbed herself,” Mike joked.

El’s smile widened, encouraging Mike to show her that too, so he leaned back close to the mirror to continue. He managed to successfully underline his eye without stabbing it, although it did get a little watery and he had to blink the tears away in order to avoid ruining his painstakingly applied eyeliner. When he finished, he turned back to El and gestured to his face. “You wanna try?”

She shook her head. “Do your other one.”

Mike shrugged and got to it, unabashedly now enjoying this little impromptu makeup tutorial. He was finishing his left eye when he spoke again. “If you do under your eye, you also don’t want to make it as dark as the top. Nancy says it looks bad.”

“Okay.” El filed the information away for her attempt.

Mike leaned away again, surveying his work. “Nancy also says eyeliner is never even but I think mine looks pretty even, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Seems like I’m just a natural at this shit. If I ever have a daughter she won’t need to do her own makeup!”

El rolled her eyes fondly. “Will you let her do it on you too?”

That wasn’t even a question, it was a given. “Of course, duh.” Mike hesitated before speaking again. “Plus, I mean… it kinda looks cool, I guess.”

El nodded affirmatively. “You look bitchin’.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Mike smiled again, a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest like Coke when you open the bottle after you shake it. “Cool.”

“Can I try now?” El asked shyly, holding her hand out for the pencil.

“Yeah, go for it!” He answered, placing it in her palm. He watched as she stepped closer to the mirror to get a good look at her eye before raising the pencil to it.

“Like this?” She asked, looking at him out of the corner of eye.

Mike reached over to correct her fingers. “More like this, but yeah. Now you just… draw.”

“Okay.” El started with short, light strokes, not really making much of a line. It was even patchier than Mike’s first try. “Like this?” She asked again, turning so he could see her face fully.

Mike shook his head. “Sort of, but it’s really patchy, see? You have to go over it a lot to make it dark. Try doing longer strokes, it might work better.”

A few minutes later, El had finished her first eye. It was a little shaky but it was something, and Mike was proud of her for trying.

She pouted. “It’s not good like yours.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s only your first try and apparently, I’m good at this. You’ll get better if you keep practicing, so try your other one.”

“Can you do it?”

“El,” Mike laughed, “I could but that’s not the point, you have to try it!”

She harrumphed and turned back to the mirror, clearly displeased with his answer. To make up for it, Mike stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck. The tip of his nose pressed into her jaw and he rubbed it softly, taking in her smell. She kind of smelled like Hopper, which Mike guessed came from living in such close quarters with the man and using the same soap, but without the lingering scent of cigarettes. El was like a cleaner, cuter, girl version of her adoptive dad. It sounded kind of weird, but Mike liked it. It was comforting. He pressed a short little kiss into the side of her neck and El shivered.

“That tickles,” she said, slightly glaring at him through the mirror, the pencil paused on its way down her eyelid.

“Does it?” He did it again, grinning.

“Mike!” She protested, squirming in his grip. “Let go, I want to finish.”

He promptly put his chin on her shoulder so they were both facing the mirror, squeezing a little tighter. “I’m never letting you go.”

El’s piercing gaze softened a little. “You don’t have to,” she murmured. “I’m not leaving.”

Suddenly, Mike’s arms were shoved away from her, forced to his sides. “But I want to finish!”

“That’s so not fair!”

“Tell that to your- your perfect eyeliner!”

“It’s not perfect, I’m just good at it,” Mike scoffed.

El huffed. “Go away.”

“Fine!”

Mike went back into the open area and sat on the couch with his arms crossed, staring at the wall, but a moment later he had an idea. He snatched the tub of lip gloss off the table and opened it, smearing some on his index finger and then swiping it across his lower lip. He did that thing Nancy did all the time, pressing his lips together to spread it around, then made his way back to the bathroom.

“How do I look?” He asked, popping his head through the doorway. “I stole some of this,” he added, holding out the little container.

El squinted. “Cute.”

Mike made sure she was watching as his tongue flickered out to taste it, her eyes following. “Mm, tastes like strawberry.”

Her eyes widened. “Can I have some?!”

“Well, you can’t eat it,” he answered fondly. “But you can put some on, when you’re done being mean to me.”

“I’m not being mean to you!”

“Tell that to my perfect eyeliner!”

El groaned. “Mike.”

“El.”

“Let me finish,” she whined. “I’m almost done!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you finish,” he said, raising his hands and backing out.

She was out of the bathroom a few seconds later, holding up the eyeliner proudly. “Is it good?”

Mike turned to look at her and smiled at her expression. El looked so happy, and he was glad that he was there to see it. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that her left eye was a tad more crooked than she probably wanted it to be. “Yeah, looks great!”

“Can I have some strawberry lips now?” She asked, looking expectantly at him.

“Yeah, here you go,” he replied, handing her the tub of lip gloss. He watched confusedly as she put it down on the table and looked back at him, her eyes glimmering. They flickered down to his now shiny lips and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe because he knew what was coming next.

And come it did. El cupped his cheeks and pulled his face down to her level to connect their lips, the end result of which was indeed her getting lip gloss all over her mouth. A sense of peace settled over Mike at feeling her so close to him and knowing he wasn’t ever letting her go. A few seconds later, El pulled away and licked her lips.

“It does taste like strawberry,” she giggled, looking up at Mike, who was sure he had the dopiest expression on his face.

“Can we do that again?”

#anon #ask #answered #prompts #mileven #mileven fanfiction #mike is good at makeup it's canon

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goodmorningmrstark · 6 years

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Rain (Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Summary: A midnight stroll in heavy rain leads to a surprising encounter.

This is not canon with the movies, because otherwise Bucky would be a fugitive and stuff. The Winter Soldier is still wanted by the police though. It’s after Captain America: Winter Soldier but then it’s a bit of a mess. Just imagine them around the same age.

Warnings: Angsty, but no main character deaths. A bit of description of a graphic scene, but not that much. One swearword. A lot of rain, and sad people with a splash of PTSD, did I mention rain? Because there will be a lot of it. Rain.

I cried writing this, you better like it.

The pitter-patter of the rain echoed relentlessly through the streets shrouded in a veil of darkness. Her feet tapped the tarmac lightly as her wet hair slapped the side of her face. She swivelled her head side to side, glaring into every alleyway and road branching off of the street she was tiptoeing through.

The bitter cold of the light breeze wormed its way through her thick coat, settling in her bones and chilling her inside out. The apples of her cheeks had flushed a rosy red and her lips had started turning blue. She rubbed her hands together in a futile attempt of restoring the little heat they had left, but to no avail.

Her breath escaped her in short puffs, dispersing delicately in wisps of mist. It continued raining as she made her way through the inky night; the glow of street lamps shredded by the sheets of water descending from above. The moon was supposed to be right above her, a thickening crescent watching over her small frame as it made its way through a maze of roads, and yet it was hidden behind a blanket of coal clouds. She navigated the twists and turns and stopped when the all too familiar park came into view.

Leaves rustled as the breeze swayed the trees and raindrops pelted them steadily. A smile grew on her face as she looked at the old structures. A bubble of nostalgia grew in her chest and dimmed her smile by the slightest, but she pushed it down and trudged ahead.

Mud squelched beneath her boots and she left footprints that would soon be covered up by the rain behind her. She blinked, raindrops having collected on her eyelashes. Benches were arranged in a large semicircle around two small swings, a slide and a sand pit. As a child, she had always come here, back when she was still alive.

When she snapped from her memories, she noticed a figure slouching on a bench, their elbows on their knees and their head in their hands. Their shoulders were heaving as if they were sobbing. One of their arms glinted a strange silver in the hum of the streetlamp. That was when she noticed it was metal.

A slew of thoughts flashed through her mind, halting her step.

What if he was a rapist?

What if he was going to kidnap her?

What if he was genuinely a good person?

Nah.

Just then, her foot fell, causing a loud squelch. Her head snapped down, and then to the figure. He was not there.

Bucky had stormed from the compound after a specifically vivid nightmare of his time with HYDRA. It was from when he was the Winter Soldier. His mind flashed back to his hands wrapped around a writhing man’s throat as he had stumbled around the streets, blindly following the familiar route to the park.

He had crashed down onto his usual wooden bench and slumped forwards, his head falling into his hands as tears cascaded down his cheeks. His shoulders heaved up and down and he retched with the force of his sobs. His flesh hand tugged at his hair as he tried to level his breathing before he relapsed.

His eyes turned to his clenching metal hand, wishing for the weapon to be gone. That cold metal had squeezed the life from countless people as his hollow eyes had taken in the scene, glaring into their soul as they coughed and spluttered, trying to take in just one more breath. His mind had been twisted and toyed with to the point of where he had felt a sick satisfaction as he had watched the life seep from their eyes, yet another death at the bloodstained hands of the Winter Soldier.

He did not notice the heavy rain soaking his thin shirt to the point of it sticking to his scarred skin. Then, he heard a noisy squelch.

His eyes had snapped to a petite unmoving frame. She had turned her head to look down, but when she looked back at him, he had slinked into the shadow of a tall oak.

She searched the bench where the figure had just been. Maybe she had been imagining him? Her curiosity peaked, and she took two hesitant steps forward. There was nobody on the bench.

But when she glanced into the shade of the oak, there was a sliver of some silvery glint. It was his arm.

“Who are you?”, she murmured. She heard a sharp intake of breath before a scuffle of leaves.

“Nobody that would concern you.”, replied a raspy male voice.

“Well it does, because you were sitting on a bench, crying your heart out.”

“Well not anymore.”

There was another scuffle as he started leaving in the pouring rain.

“Wait a second. Why do you have a metal arm?”, she asked abruptly. He froze.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Think a little harder, then maybe it will strike you.”

And it sure did. Her mind stopped. He was the Winter Soldier. As in, THE Winter Soldier.

She started inching backwards nervously.

“Well it sure was nice knowing you, but I’ll be on my merry way.”

As she started walking a little faster, he was suddenly in front of her, gripping her arm with his flesh hand.

“You will not tell anyone that you saw me, understand? Let alone the police.”, he whispered harshly.

“I-I wasn’t thinking of it.”, she stuttered. He searched her face for a few more seconds before dropping her arm. Recovering from the shock, she had the chance to examine his face.

He was nothing short of beautiful, with stubble framing his sharp jawline. A frown line was embedded between his brows. His eyes were a steely blue, surrounded by long, dark eyelashes. His high cheekbones had flushed a rosy red in the cold weather and his lips had started turning blue.

She noticed his dark long-sleeved shirt that had been soaked through, sticking to his muscled body in ways that she did not have a hard time appreciating, blanking her mind for a second or two. His sweatpants were equally wet, sticking to his legs. He must have been freezing in the terrible weather.

“You must be freezing! How far are we from where you’re staying?”, she exclaimed.

“Dunno. Two or three miles?”

She did a double take, staring at him with wide eyes.

“I’m a super soldier. It’s not that far.”

“Still. Ok. We’re going to my place. Please don’t kill me.”, she blurted out. He flinched.

“I don’t do that anymore.”, he mumbled. Her face softened, but she did not know why she sympathised with the Soldier.

They started walking towards her apartment, him complaining during the first few minutes.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not that far.”, he’d say.

Then he would follow with, “I’m not cold. I’m used to the cold.”

He nonchalantly spoke, “Don’t bother, I’m fine.”

When she insisted on going to her place, which was only half a mile from the park, he had decided to be quiet. She, however, did not like the thick silence and had decided to start a conversation.

“What’s your name?”, she asked.

“You know, a gal should not be outside at this time, especially not in the pouring rain.”, he replied.

“I’ll go out whenever I want.”, she stated, “stop trying to change the subject.”

“You can call me Bucky. What’s yours?”, he sighed.

“YN. Nice to meet you, Bucky”, she offered her hand to shake with a small smile. He took it gently in his cold flesh hand and shook it a couple times. His hand was blotchy from the cold, red and a light purple in some places. His palm was rough and calloused from decades of fighting and had crescent shaped scars exactly where his nails would be when his hand was fisted. The top of it was littered with small blemishes.

Why am I actually taking him to my apartment?, she wondered, confused that she had felt a subconscious need to protect him.

From what?, she did not know. All she knew, was that she wanted to shield the shivering man next to her from whatever had brought him to the park and had made him cry.

Bucky did not know why she had decided to bring him to her apartment. As far as he was concerned, she should have run from him like a normal person, upon realizing who he was. From then, he had decided that the gorgeous woman walking next to him in the pouring rain must have been insane. He did not say anything, however, not wanting to break the fragile trust she had placed in him.

And as he looked beside him, he could not help but admire the stunning beauty strolling ever so casually beside him. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her winter coat, and he could not help but regret not bringing one himself.

He wondered what had brought her to the park in this weather. She should have been asleep at this time. And yet, he could not help but feel selfishly grateful that she had decided to go to the park, given that she had found him and shown him kindness that he had not felt with anyone other than Steve in the past seventy years. Unsettling images appeared in his mind, from her having nightmares to the scale of his, to her being forced. He shook away those thoughts. There was no way that could be true. She probably liked the rain and had decided to go out.

Just then, the two had arrived in front of a tall block of apartments. She pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and the two entered the building.

YN and Bucky entered the small apartment. She took her coat off and hung it on a small coat rack and threw her boots off, placing them beside the door messily. It was a bit untidy, with a few pieces of clothing laying on the ground. A couple of unwashed dishes were piled next to the sink in her small kitchen type thing that only contained a small fridge, a cheap oven, a microwave, a sink and a small stove.

“It’s a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting guests.”, she said, entering a door to their left, “You can leave your shoes next to the door.”

Bucky complied and placed them delicately to the side. He shuffled awkwardly as his clothes dripped water onto the ground.

YN walked back in with a small pile of clothes in her hands, “My brother left these last time he was here. He’s a bit smaller than you, but I think it’ll do. The bathroom is to the first door to the right. You can have a shower to warm up. There are fresh towels in the shelf.”

Bucky frowned slightly but accepted the small pile, grateful to have some dry clothes.

YN had changed into some different clothes and put her wet hair into a bun by the time Bucky had emerged from the bathroom. His face had regained its normal colour and his hair hung in a wet curtain around his face.

“Thank you.”, he murmured, “Why are you being so kind?”

She did not know how to answer. A million questions popped up in her mind, “I don’t know.”

In fact, she did. She had felt this instinctual need to help him. Maybe it was because he was sitting on her favourite bench, in a thin shirt in the pouring rain, sobbing. But deep down she knew, that as soon as she saw his hunched form, she was going to protect him. She was going to protect him from whatever had made him sit on that bench and cry his heart out.

Because she saw some of her in him.

She saw it in his sunken cheeks, in the dark bags beneath his eyes, in the lines permanently etched on his face.

Guilt.

And it had made her heart break. Because even though she did not know him, she knew he was not at fault. She knew there was no reason for him to have been there had he not felt it. She knew he would not have been sat on that specific bench in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, the tears falling from his eyes, had he not had it gnawing in his chest, consuming his thoughts.

So, she had decided to take him to her apartment.

He was sat on her couch, enveloped in a fluffy blanket. She had curled up on an armchair not too far away with a blanket of her own, looking at the handsome man. He had covered his metal arm completely, looking at it with nothing but pure disgust before hiding it from view.

“Why do you hide it?”, she asked.

Bucky looked up from his lap, “What do you mean”

“The arm”, she said, “Why do you hide it?”

“It has killed so many people. It is what people associate with him. It’s what makes me the Winter Soldier.”

“I don’t think it is. If you were, I’d be dead.”, Bucky flinched at this.

That was not the right thing to say.

“I mean, the arm is not what makes you the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier is an assassin who has killed hundreds. You don’t strike me as him.”, she tried to fix what she had just said.

“What a way to say it.”, Bucky grumbled.

YN sighed, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. What I’m trying to say is that you are not the Winter Soldier. You’re Bucky. I see it in you.”

Bucky glanced at his covered arm, “A part of him is always with me. How can I not be the Winter Soldier?”

She inhaled sharply, “Can I see it?”

Bucky grudgingly pulled the blanket down and uncovered the shining metal plates, whirring as he moved it slightly. YN moved next to him to get a closer look. She touched it gently and looked up at him, “Can you feel this?”

Bucky nodded, “It’s weird. I can feel your touch. I can feel heat and cold. But when something gets extremely painful, I can’t feel it. I guess they made it that way, so I could be the best killing machine.”

YN’s face softened as she stroked the metal plates lightly, not noticing Bucky’s small shiver at the action.

“Well I think its beautiful. It may have been built to kill, but you just make it different.”

She felt Bucky’s stare burning into the side of her face as she continued tracing patterns on his arm. They sat in a comforting silence, each consumed in their own thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, she asked.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, “What do you mean?”

“What brought you to the park?”, she explained, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bucky chewed his lip as he looked as he looked at her fingers tracing patterns on his metal palm, unknowingly blanking her mind for a few seconds, “It was from my time as the Soldier. The lives I took. A nightmare. It was worse than usual. I would go to the park when something like that happened, so I did.”

YN frowned, “How come I’ve never seen you?”

Bucky shrugged, “Guess we weren’t meant to meet until now.”

This prompted a small smile to form on YN’s face.

“I guess so.”, she whispered.

“Why were you walking out in the rain?”, he queried.

“Let me tell you a story. It’s a story of a girl…..”

Two young girls, none older than five, chased each other through the lush green grass. The sun was shining bright above their heads, shining on their faces that were split by smiles that could rival the brightness of the sun. They shrieked in joy as they jumped on the swings, arguing about who had got there first.

Their mothers looked on, both with soft smiles on their faces as they sipped iced coffees, talking about whatever adults talked about.

“Mama! Mama! Claire says she was faster than me, but I got there first! Who do you think won?”, a young YN trotted to her mother.

“You both got there at the same time. Now run along.”, the woman spoke kindly, looking down at the child. YN nodded and ran back to Claire, pulling her to the sandpit, their previous argument already long forgotten.

Two fourteen-year olds laid sprawled on a bed, eating ice cream.

“I love chocolate. And cake. And sugar.”, Claire exclaimed, “God, we’re gonna get diabetes.”

“Most likely. Let’s get diabetes together. On that thought, what about that new dude you seemed to enjoy looking at”, YN wiggled her eyebrows at the redhead. Claire groaned.

“Not that again. I told you, I don’t like him.”, she sighed.

“And what about that cute girl? Lana?”, YN said.

“Now you’re speaking my language. Who even needs boys. Girls are so much better – and cuter.”, Claire giggled.

“Agreed. Though I can’t relate, boys are assholes.”

“I have no chance anyways. She’s as straight as a stick.”

“Sticks come in all sizes and shapes.”

“That sounded like it had very much of a double meaning.”, Claire choked on her ice cream.

YN chucked a pillow at her face, “You perv! I didn’t mean it that way! You know what I meant.”

Claire nodded as she chuckled, “I do, don’t worry.”

A sixteen-year old Claire held Lana’s hand. Lana was a beautiful African American girl who always had her hair in some gorgeous braided hairstyle that complimented her chocolatey skin perfectly. She ended up not being quite as straight as Claire had thought, and after two years of secretive glances, the two had owned up to their feelings and finally decided to go on some dates.

YN had sat on the same table as the couple, third wheeling painfully. She had felt happy for the redhead, but now that her best friend had a girlfriend, they hung out less and less.

“Are you friends with her, that girl, Claire?”, a brunette asked YN.

“No. I’m not. Why would I be friends with her?”, YN sneered.

“I just remember you hanging out with her a lot, that’s all. Good.”

As the months progressed, YN and Claire drifted further and further apart. Claire always hung out with Lana, and YN with the brunette and some other students.

It was the last school trip they would have. The seniors were going to New York and would visit the Avengers tower one of the days. But as the group walked through the streets of Manhattan, something strange happened.

A portal had opened in the sky, and thousands of strange creatures poured out. The creatures had started attacking civilians, causing the streets to erupt into chaos. People were running left and right as the roads cracked and broke, cars flipped and caught fire, and bodies dropped one after the other.

YN’s class had separated and left the girl with Claire and Lana. The two gripped each other’s hands as they shrieked. The couple ran a few meters to the left. YN, however was rooted to the spot as a huge craft from one of the aliens came hurtling at her. She looked up, closing her eyes and accepting her fate as a tear slipped from her eye. Claire noticed this and let go of Lana’s hand, rushing towards YN.

“YN!”, she screamed and tackled her away from the falling craft.

YN fell a mere foot away from the fallen craft. Claire, however, was not so lucky.

The craft had fallen right on top of her and had crushed her fragile body. Only her head was visible, the rest of her body underneath the craft. Blood had leaked from her body and onto the tarmac, a red puddle surrounding her. A stream of blood flowed from her head to the ground.

“Claire!”, Lana and YN screamed at the same time and rushed towards their fallen friend.

“No, no, no, no. NO!”, YN muttered, “You can’t be dead. Please no.”

She knew the girl was dead. YN was crouched in a pool of her blood. Tears gushed from her eyes as she laid her hands on Claire’s face, coating them in her sticky blood. In that moment, she regretted every time she had turned away from her former best friend. She regretted the days she had gazed at her from the other side of the canteen, wishing high school had not done her that way. She regretted every single time she had lied about having been friends with her to seem cool to other students. She regretted not having supported her throughout the past years, choosing popularity over her. She regretted everything.

And looking at Claire, the image burned into her mind, a piece of her went missing. A shadow. She let out a scream of agony. Her heart tore from her chest. On her knees, she sobbed alongside Lana.

Lana.

Claire’s girlfriend.

They had been so in love. And YN tore that from them.

“YOU!”, Lana screamed, “She’s dead because of you! You could have moved! And now Claire is dead!”, Lana’s voice broke, “I loved her. I never got the chance to tell her. Now she’s gone.”

YN stared at the beautiful girl. Lana was right. She should have moved. It should have been her. Less people would have missed her, in fact, the only ones that would, would be her parents. Nobody loved her like Lana did Claire. YN stood up on shaking legs. She stumbled back, looking at the heartbroken girl cradling her dead girlfriend’s head, sobbing. YN fell to her knees, staring at her hands. Her chest ached. Her body ached. She did not notice the chaos in the streets, or her shredded knees. Claire was dead. She was gone. They would never lay sprawled out on the covers of her bed, eating ice cream and gossiping. They would never go to the park and race to the swings ever again. Because of YN.

The people in the streets continued scrambling, paying no mind to the two girls who had just lost their world. All too consumed in saving themselves, they did not notice how two hearts were shredded in just a second.

“….and we will miss her. She was a friend…”, droned the mundane voice of the principal.

YN did not hear any of it. She could not bear it anymore. She stood up, attracting the attention of many students, and stormed from the hall.

Her back slid down the wall, as the tears returned. It was all her fault.

All her fault.

Her fault.

She was gone, and it was her fault.

A door closed, and a person walked towards her. It was Lana. She had dark bags beneath her eyes. Her usually neat braids had frizzy parts sticking out.

“I’m sorry.”, Lana whispered. YN turned to her in shock.

“Don’t be. You said it correctly. It is my fault. I killed her.”

Lana turned to YN, “What I said was wrong. I was heartbroken and shocked a- “

“Because of me.”, YN interrupted, “Claire tackled me away from the craft.”

YN laughed dryly, “It should have been me. You two had been so in love. Nobody loved me like you did her. My friends certainly didn’t. The only ones that would have missed me would be my parents.”

Lana looked at her, “Don’t say that. Lives should not be traded. Claire is dead. And yes, I loved her, I still do, but she decided to sacrifice herself for you. Even when you weren’t friends anymore, she still talked about you. You were her best friend. From what I heard, you would have done the same.”

“Would I, though? How can you be so sure? Because I don’t even know myself anymore.”, YN stood up, and walked away, not bothering to wipe her tears.

“…that girl was me. I killed my best friend. We played in that park as kids.”, YN’s voice cracked.

“You didn’t kill her and you know it.”, Bucky said.

YN laughed dryly, “I guess we’re all fucked up, in a way.”

A tear slipped from her eye, “I just miss her. So, so much.”

Soon, more tears followed. After a moment of hesitation, Bucky gathered her in his arms. She stiffened momentarily, but then wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He stroked the back of her head softly.

Bucky had never guessed the ordeal that she had gone through. So, he held her close. He held her as she cried and cried.

An hour later, she had asked him to tell her his story. So, he did. He told her about his time as the Winter Soldier. He told her about the torture he had endured. He told her about when he almost killed Steve but broke out of the brainwashing. Throughout that, a few tears fell from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?”, Bucky asked, delicately wiping a tear from her cheek.

“You went through so damn much, Bucky. How are you still getting up every day?”, she sniffled.

“I don’t know either.”, he said, with a shake of his head.

And as the sun peeked above the horizon, the two were fast asleep, their limbs entwined, a weight having lifted from both of their chests.

She protected him from himself, from the mess his mind had become.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #angst #sad #avengers #rain #cute #y/n #marvellouswritingchallenge #marvel

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pheuthe · 7 years

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atomwave drabble dump

@tkdgirl2012 thank you for the prompts! I’m not sure how the reply system works for posts, so I’m just gonna assume the reply to the OTP Prompt post that showed up in my Activities was meant for me - if not, I’m sorry for hoarding :’D actually no I’m not, I love atomwave so XD I already filled No. 17 for someone else, so... here go the 4 prompts you requested! :)

49.

Mick hasn’t laughed this hard in ages. They still don’t know what exactly that yellow-tinged gas was, but they sure do know the effects it had on a certain scientist.

“Stop laughing,” Ray snaps, sounding like an overgrown, frustrated chipmunk.

“Sure thing, Alvin,” Jax chortles. Ray opens his mouth, but then decides to stop giving them ammunition for more teasing and shuts up, crossing his arms over his chest. Even his huff sounds like he has inhaled half a tank of helium.

“Don’t mind the teasing, Haircut,” Mick snickers, “your voice is sexy.”

“Your ass is sexy,” Ray snaps back.

Mick blinks.

The rest of the crew go silent, slowly turning to stare at Raymond, who turns an alarming shade of red.

“Shut up!” the man squeaks and scrambles off in the direction of medbay. His mortified look indicates that he probably wishes his condition is terminal.

Mick is still staring at the empty spot where a squeaky (hot) scientist used to be, when Sara speaks up.

“You gonna do something about that?”

“None of your business,” he huffs, but he stalks off after Raymond anyway.

He’s probably gonna give Gideon five minutes to fix Haircut properly, though... chipmunks are really not Mick’s thing, at all.

.........................

57.

Raymond’s been acting weird all day.

He was okay in the morning, all bright smiles and easygoing attitude. Mick knows for a fact that breakfast wasn’t so bad, because he’s gotten better at not burning the eggs (or the toast or... anything). Raymond talked about the things he had to do at work today, and sure, when Mick went to give him his usual kiss goodbye as the man was leaving, Ray lingered for a moment or two, like he was expecting something, but he seemed alright, so Mick let it go.

He spent the day as always when he was off-duty - watching TV and lounging about, mostly. He even did the dishes and a load of laundry, so it couldn’t be the mess that was bothering Raymond when he came home. Dinner was pretty uneventful, except that Raymond kept twitching and spacing out. When he didn’t react to Mick’s suggestion they should get that fire pit for the backyard after all - a thing he’s been vehemently protesting ever since Mick first brought it up, right after they moved in - Mick had a feeling that something definitely wasn’t right.

And when Raymond slipped under the covers, turned off the lamp at his bedside and rolled away when Mick tried to touch him, Mick was one hundred percent positive.

He settled back into his heap of pillows and frowned at the line of Ray’s back, illuminated only by the lamp on Mick’s side.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he tried - he’s never been great at talking and Ray knew that, so usually, he went out of his way to voice what he was thinking. Mick really appreciated the blunt honesty, but he knew that sometimes, he could be insensitive (alright, most of the time) and that Ray couldn’t be expected to pick up the slack all the time.

When Ray didn’t answer, Mick propped his head up on his elbow and reached out to touch Ray’s shoulder.

Ray pulled away, making a quiet sound that was neither a huff nor a sigh. Mick knew that Ray didn’t play the ‘silent treatment’ game out of pettiness, which meant he had to be genuinely hurt. Mick’s heart picked up the pace and he shifted closer, reaching for Ray again. This time, Ray let his hand rest against his shoulder, but he was tense under Mick’s touch.

“What’s wrong?” Mick asked again, genuinely worried. Ray mumbled something into his pillow, but it was too faint for Mick’s old ears to pick it up, so he plastered himself against Ray’s back and leaned over his shoulder.

“You wanna try that again?”

“You forgot about my birthday!” Ray twisted around, almost headbutting Mick in the process.

In all fairness, he probably would’ve deserved it. Mick winced at the words and frowned, swallowing his first comment, which was that birthdays were stupid and they were both too old to care anyway. Ray cared, and he never forgot to be extra attentive and do all the things Mick liked when it was the other way around. Thinking that he’s failed to show Ray that he cared just as much, maybe not about birthdays, but about Ray... that sucked. Big time.

“In my defense, I forget about a lot of things,” he tried - apologies were another thing he was lousy at. Sometimes, he wondered why Ray kept him around, after everything Mick’s done wrong.

Ray’s expression softened a little, but it wasn’t his usual warmth that replaced the hurt grimace. Personally, Mick thought that the resignation that seeped into Ray’s features was far worse.

“I know it’s stupid,” Ray shook his head, bringing his hand up to rub it down his face, “and I know I shouldn’t care, I know that you’re not good with this kind of stuff-”

“I wanna be,” Mick grumbled. Yeah, he might not be great with birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas gifts and all that crap, but he wanted to make Ray smile, regardless of what the fucking calendar said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ray sighed, again - Mick was quickly coming to hate that sound. “It’s just... I don’t know. I thought you remembered. And I built it up in my head, I thought you were planning a surprise, that’s why you didn’t say anything in the morning, and then you didn’t and... just forget it. It’s not important.”

He made to turn around again, but Mick stopped him, with a quiet growl and a hand against Ray’s shoulder, holding him in place.

“Yeah, it is,” he huffed, “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Just gimme a day or two to come up with something good.”

For a moment, he thought Ray would say no - he had a way of doing that, discarding what was important to him in order to accommodate others. They were working on that, though... just as they were working on Mick being a thoughtless asshole, sometimes.

Eventually, some of the shadows drained from Ray’s face and he smiled - genuinely, this time, with just a hint of that warmth that Mick loved seeing in his eyes.

“Alright. Just... please don’t steal it? I really don’t need anything big.”

Mick laughed and let his head drop against Ray’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of the man he couldn’t imagine his life without, not after all this time.

“Then I’ll make you the best glitter glue card you’ve ever seen, just you wait.”

...............................

61.

“Move!” Ray groans and pushes against Mick’s shoulders. Ray’s neither small nor weak, and he’s been getting better at fighting, but trying to move Mick when he’s still mostly asleep is like trying to move a mountain.

Mick doesn’t even seem to notice the pressure: he grumbles in his sleep like a disgruntled lion and stretches. His ribcage somehow pushes down on Ray’s bladder and makes him whine.

“Mick! Move!” he tries again, which results in more stretching - the pressure is relieved, just a little, but Ray really, really needs to get out of the bed. Bunk. Whatever the Waverider’s resting area is called. All Ray can think of, right now, is not wetting his pants like a nervous five-year-old.

Ray would swear to himself he’s never trying to drink beer at Mick’s pace again, except he’s made that exact oath in his head at least four times previously, and it never lasted.

“Mick,” he sighs, slapping at the man’s bare shoulder lightly. “I really need to get up. Move.”

“Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am,” Mick mumbles, face half-mushed into Ray’s chest. He’s drooling a little, and Ray’s heart really shouldn’t melt at the sight of that, but it does. Mick apparently reverts to a vocabulary of a grade schooler when he’s sleepy (and possibly hung-over, which is a really interesting effect) and Ray loves hearing him say words like ‘comfy’, because nobody else gets to... but his melting heart does absolutely nothing for his bladder, so he struggles with Mick’s mostly dead weight and wiggles to the edge of the bed until he can slide from under the heavy lump of a man.

Mick growls something decidedly non-grade-school-appropriate, and Ray chuckles - it makes his bladder situation even more urgent and he marches to the bathroom as quickly as he can.

If he deliberately washes his hands in cold water just so he can press them against a warm, scarred back when he slips into the bed again... well, he can pull off an innocent face like nobody else.

....................

65.

"We bet, and you lost,” Mick crosses his arms over his chest. In all fairness, that chest is exactly what got Ray into this mess in the first place: high school football players should be banned from having chests like that, otherwise poor impressionable nerds like Ray are in great danger of making exactly these kinds of mistakes.

Ray gives the tattoo parlor another wary look, and tries his best pleading look. Not that it worked in the hour leading up to this moment.

“But tattoos are permanent,” he mumbles, and Mick raises an eyebrow.

“You shoulda thought about that before you made the bet, Pretty.”

Ray really, really should have. But it’s too late now... so he pushes the door open, wincing when the bell above the doorway reminds him that this is, indeed, happening.

“What in the name of- Rory? Palmer?”

The sound of his English teacher’s voice is really not what Ray was expecting to hear tonight, but he can’t say he regrets it when Mr. Clarke swings his legs off the leather chair and tugs his shirt down over what is shaping up to be a quite impressive... uh. Something. Ray’s in no state to be noticing details like that.

“What are you two doing here? And- are you drunk?!”

Ray winces at that, and attempts to hide behind Mick’s back. Considering that Mick’s had at least two more beers, it’s likely not doing much to save his reputation.

“I really thought you were better than that, Palmer,” Mr. Clarke frowns and points at the door. “Get out of here. And be glad that I won’t call your parents right away.”

They scramble out in record time - well, Ray does, and when he turns, Mick is following.

The cool night air doesn’t do much to make Ray’s head spin any less, especially not when he sways and Mick wraps his beefy arm around Ray’s waist. Ray decides to take advantage of his drunk plausible deniability and leans into that impressive chest.

“Sorry I couldn’t do it,” he mumbles - he’s really not, he did not want a tattoo of any kind, and definitely not any that Mick might choose for him. He’s more sorry that Mick will think he’s just a nerdy chicken now - which he is, but Mick probably won’t want to have anything to do with Ray if he knows that.

“Wouldn’t’ve let you do it anyway, Haircut,” Mick grumbles into his hair, and Ray only realizes then that they’ve stopped still, standing in the middle of the quiet street and... hugging. And Mick’s not moving away. Wow. Ray’s heart does a leap in his chest, and he dares to look up, just a little.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to... dunno. Y’know. Be alone. With you. And shit.”

As far as confessions go, this definitely ranks at the very bottom of the list. And yet, Ray can’t remember any words that would’ve made him happier in his life. He smiles, bright and goofy - because he’s always goofy, and nerdy and awkward and a little too loud, and he can get lost in his research and actually likes schoolwork... but Mick knows all of this about him, and he still wanted, really, truly wanted, to be alone with Ray.

If that’s not true love, then Ray doesn’t know what is.

“Yeah,” he says, and then realizes that Mick hasn’t actually said anything - it makes him blush in embarrassment, and then Mick looks down at him and his lips twitch, like he’s trying to smile, and Ray’s heart nearly jumps out through his throat. For a second, he thinks Mick is going to kiss him, and his stomach twists with anxiety and with the hope that despite the beer he’s had, he will remember tomorrow-

But Mick just brushes Ray’s hair out of his eyes and sighs.

“C’mon then, Haircut... I’ll take you home.”

Maybe, just maybe, Ray deliberately points Mick towards a longer route, just so he can lean against that chest for a while longer. He’s pretty sure Mick knows that, too, but he never says a word.

#atomwave #fanfiction #prompt fills #highschool au #established relationship #birthdays #bedsharing #mostly fluff

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thereluctantinquisitor · 7 years

Note

"Do you need to vent?" Dorlen! Or whoever you want lol

Pavellan. Dorian Pavus x Varlen Lavellan

(Approx 1400 words, most under the cut)

When Dorian opened the door to Varlen’s room, the last thinghe expected was for a boot to come flying at his head.

With barely a moment to think, he ducked fast, and theleather projectile kissed the air mere millimetres from Dorian’s cheek. He heard itthud heavily against the wall, its dull impact echoing through the adjacent corridor.

“Well,” Dorian began shortly, standing back up and straightening hisrobe with an air of affronted dignity. “Nice to see you too.”

“Dorian! I didn’t–I wasn’t–!” Varlen’s spluttered reply was almost as amusing asthe man himself, standing there half-dressed and so red-faced he might as well wait until morning to rise with the sun. His newly bare foot hovered off the ground, as though he was reluctant to press it to thefloorboards. Dorian couldn’t say he blamed him. Over the course of the evening,they’d all heard rumours of how Orlesians passed the time. Most methods seemed to takeplace on the floor. Or on a table. Or against a window.

“I’m sorry, vhenan,” Varlen continued hurriedly, hopping a few stepstowards Dorian before seemingly changing his mind and steadying himself on the footof the bed. “If I’d heard you coming, I wouldn’t have—”

“— Flying footwear…” Dorian interrupted suddenly, strolling into the room, his eyes flicking discerningly around the luscious space. “Abroken bottle… torn parchment… carelessly discarded clothes…” He stopped afew paces from Varlen, his gaze finally coming to rest on the silver-hairedman. “Do you need to vent, amatus?”

It was, apparently, possible for Varlen’s face to turn an even deeper shade of crimson. He shifted with awkward stiffness, one foot stillhovering a few inches from the ground, before almost reluctantly touching downonto the polished wood. “It’s stupid,” he muttered sullenly, not meeting Dorian’sgaze. “Really. I thought I was alone, otherwise…”

Dorian sighed as Varlen trailed off. As much as he cared for him, he could be soimpossible sometimes. Stubborn. Then again, he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t been a large part of what drew him to the elven man. Whatcould he say? He liked the challenge of someone willing to stand their ground.

“Well, you aren’talone, and it just so happens that I am a wonderful listener. It would be quite theshame to waste my services, wouldn’t you agree?” The whimsical tone Dorian hadchosen was meant to disarm an opponent. At least, according to his formal debating teacher back inMinrathous. A haughty crone of a woman, but she had known hercraft better than some Imperial Magisters. Of course, this was no battle of wits, and Varlen was no enemy, butsuffice to say a clever lilt of the voice or turn of phrase often worked just aswell in any situation.

True to expectation, something about Varlen relaxedslightly. Not the loose-armed relaxation of a newly unburdened man. It was more subtle than that. He raisedhis chin ever so slightly and allowed himself to meet Dorian’s eye.

“Are you going to charge me?”

Dorian cocked an eyebrow. “… For?”

“Your listeningservices.”

His own bark of laughter took Dorian by surprise, but he was evenmore pleased when it coaxed a small smile from Varlen’s otherwise sullen face. “For you, amatus? Not at all.Now, sit. Tell me what happened so I can coo gently and stroke your hair.”

Varlen rolled his eyes, hesitated, then sat down on the edgeof the bed. Doing his best to be humble in victory, Dorian strolled over andjoined him, the mattress bowing beneath their combined weight. A part of Dorian yearned to make another smart remark, but he stopped himself just in time. He could beselfish like that. A flaw he worked on a little each day. But the greater problem still hung heavy in theair. Whatever that problem was, it was not Dorian’s. He would have to discoverit one word at a time.

“This whole day has just been… hard,” Varlen began suddenly,almost forcefully, as though he could no longer contain the bitter words. “I don’tunderstand how Riven did it. Dealt withit. Fenedhis, I could run off and hide whenever I needed a break, but shewas center-stage. The eye of the storm. Everyone knew when she went missing. They whispered about it likeshe was off skinning cats behind a building!”

“Well, as you do,” Dorian joked lightly, although he could feel hisbrow attempting to draw into a frown. Varlen huffed humourlessly and leaned forward, bracinghis forearms on his thighs, hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Four times, I was asked to fetch wine, you know. Twice Iwas scolded for ‘slacking off’. Then for minglingwith the guests. I mean, coming down to Ferelden, sure, there were times when I feltlike I was… I don’t know… lesser. Buthere? I was a stain, Dorian. It felt like everyonejust wanted to get rid of me.”

“Or dance,” Dorian offered helpfully. Varlen snorted.

“Or dance,” he agreed resentfully, nose wrinkling in distaste. “I mean… come on. Tell me how that makes any sense?”

Dorian breathed in long and deep, then let it out with a rushing sigh, shoulders sinking with the motion. “You’d be rather surprised whatpeople are willing to overlook to serve their own desires, amatus. Especially courtiers and nobility,I’m afraid. Rather egocentric lot. Accustomed to getting what they want whenthey want it. Snap their fingers. Ring a bell. I blame the parents.” Glancingacross, Dorian studied Varlen. The stiffness of his back, the despondent angle of his chin, the uncertain tilt of his brow. Varlen just studied his hands. “For some, theirparched throat led them to look at you and see a servant. For others… well, if I may, you didlook rather dashing. Anappreciation for beauty is quite the hallmark of Orlesian culture, however undeservedthat reputation might actually be. Some would be more than willing to risk theirreputation for the chance to be spin around by a handsome man in a well-tailored suit.”

Head still bowed, Varlen snorted derisively. “Risk theirreputation? Gee, that makes me feel somuch better. Thank you, Dorian. You really do have a way with words.” He glanced across almostaccusingly. “I thought you were supposed to make me feel better? Stroke my hair and stuff?”

“Now now, I’m not finished,” Dorianreprimanded gently. At first, it seemed like Varlen wanted to argue, or possibly even stalk off, buthe remained silent and still despite his obvious irritation. Tread lightly, Dorian thought warily. You’re walking a very fine line here. “Amatus… I know it is hard to hear, but it is the truth. People judge us from the moment wewalk into a room. Sometimes beforethat, depending on how fast news travels. In a place like this, all we can hopeto do is as little damage as possible. Someone has to put the cause first, after all. It seems we who already wear the uniform are the only ones willing to do that.”

“So… what?” Varlendemanded sharply, a steel-like anger in his eyes. “I’m meant to just play nice? Bowand kiss their boots and fetch their wine so I don’t offend them with my existence? I’m not here toprove my worth to them, Dorian. Neither are you. I mean, you’re not even an elf, but I still heard the waythey…” He bit off the sentence and inhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenched in frustration. “We all came here as part of theInquisition. As representatives of something bigger than all of… of this. That’s the only thing about us that should matter.”

“Well, yes. Of course,” Dorian agreed, and was surprised to find that he genuinely did. He reached out and placed his handover Varlen’s, not at all surprised by the fact that the elven man wastrembling. “Unfortunately, what should matterand what does matter are too oftenvery different things. Things hidden behind fancy velvet curtains because even thosewho take part in it realise it is unsightly. Here at Orlesian court, they call it TheGame. In the Imperium, it manifests as an ancient and archaic social order. No matter where you go, it is there, wearing a different name. None of it is right, of course. But whatabout this world really is?”

Silence stretched between them, cast like an invisibleshadow across the room. Then, slowly, as though coming to some sort of privateyet vital decision, Varlen shook his head.

“That’s… not good enough, Dorian. Not for me. Not for you…” Heswallowed and looked up. Met Dorian’s gaze with the fierce resolve of youthfulconviction. “Not for anyone.”

Dorian felt his mouthcurve into an almost proud smile. That look, so determined, so earnest… it suited Varlen. A little too well, if he was honest. It held init all the things Dorian had shied away from during his sheltered youth. All thethings he had ignored and turned his back on because it had not affected him. He was one of them. Selfish.Pampered. But in that moment, sittingon a half-made bed in a half-lit room, he felt like he could do something. He didn’t know what – not yet, at least – but the fire he needed was there, lit by a pair of bright blue eyes. Eyesthat refused to be ignored.

“You’re right, amatus…”Dorian said, the words forming slowly. Thoughtfully.Distracted, his mind churning, he squeezed Varlen’s hand, and Varlen returned the gesture with equal firmness,his trembling gone, replaced by quiet resolve.

“… It isn’t.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dorian pavus #varlen lavellan #pavellan #comfort sentence starters #reluctant writes #reluctant replies #dorlen #<3 #thank you for the prompt!#chaitea09

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