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springtimebat · 3 years

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The Autumn Meeting (Part 4/4)

{The Unicorn and The Moon}

This is the story of my parents; of how they lived and died, and how my mother met my father as she danced along with the moon.

It all began a long, long time ago. When the world was just dust. When the woods were rivers. My mother was a child and she was told of unicorns who returned to virtuous girls when the full moon arrived each month. She heard of it from her mother, as they watched the stars in the sky.

“If you wait for long enough at a time like this,” My grandmother explained, and her voice didn’t just come from her throat, but from the earth, the air and the trees, “The creature will find its way to your lap. It’ll raise its head to the stars, just as you young maidens raise your heads to the moon and the sun. Then it’ll settle down and let you pet it. Just like that. No cages required.”

“I will catch the unicorn,” My mother decided, “I will tame them with a silver tongue.”

A week later, my mother set herself in the moss and the grass, her hands hidden in her dress pockets, fingers fastened tightly around a pair of scissors.

Predictably, the unicorn arrived and began its maddening dance. My mother shot up and dropped her scissors in the dirt. This creature, this sublime creature, was the most precious thing she had ever seen. Regrettably, she fell in love.

My mother slipped beside it and twirled its mane in her fingers. It was all smoke and reflected the soft creases of the moon. The creature's eyes were milky and opaque, yet my mother looked at them with admiration. She wished to be hidden too. God she wished that she could hide. She wished she could practice the creature’s dance and shield herself with the magic of the moon’s tide.

They danced along the moss and frogs for hours, my mother and the unicorn. They appeared to fly up into the sky on imaginary stairs. The unicorn let its muzzle fall to my mothers neck. It closed its eyes. My mother closed her eyes. They let each other sink. By dawn, the myth was gone and the young maiden was left alone on tired feet that hummed. Nine months later, I arrived, my eyes silver like the stars that fall. And that’s all she had left. She told me that she had cut the unicorn’s hair that night, but she never showed me the locks, tied with a ribbon in a pocketbook. I think she only wishes she had taken her scissors to the unicorn that night.

And so my mother and father met. And so my mother and father parted.

“The end,” The Queen opens her eyes to the circle and gives a small smile. Emillian picks his jaw off the forest floor. Guy turns his head to his old friend, apparently confused.

“Do you have any notes?”

“You’re not human,” Emillian states, his voice low and scratchy. The Queen shivers and lowers her gaze to the ground.

“I suppose not.” She hesitates for a moment, but continues, “I am but a leaf in the wind, being pulled to and fro by various mysterious figures.”

“Are these forces familiar or unfamiliar?”

“They are both. Simultaneously.”

“How does that work then?”

“It doesn't. I’m a mess.”

“I wonder about you.”

“Why do you wonder?”

“I try to imagine where you would be if you hadn’t grasped power in that once in a lifetime moment.”

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“How convenient.”

“I could have you beheaded, you know.”

“I know. But you won’t. You’re a coward.”

“I find you interesting. The world’s better with you here. When I consider killing things, those are my terms.”

“What did I miss?” Asks a voice from the shadows. Abram stands by the camp entrance in the oaks, his scales greased.

“Unicorns Abram,” Emil chuckles, “You missed unicorns.”

“Aw I missed the whole story?” He turns to the queen and gives her a bow, “I’m sure it was wonderful, your majesty.”

“Come and sit with us again Abram,” Emil requests, patting a rock beside him, “Come and long with us.”

“I would love to but…there’s something coming.”

“Something’s coming?”

“Yep. It’s this...castle, or town...it’s something okay? It’s a building crawling through the trees. It’s heading this way.”

“It’s the corridors.”

The three storytellers turn to the Queen, who pats down her skirts and rises from her throne.

“It’s coming for you?” Abram asks.

“Yes. My husband’s realised I’m missing.”

“Huh the man himself,” Emil mutters, drawing lines in the grit below him.

“Indeed.”

“He’ll be here soon.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“Not to be rude, your highness, but none of us were worried. How can you be worried about a man you’ve never seen?”

“Very easily,” The Queen winced, “Though, I suppose it's hard for Emillian. He doesn’t have a soul.”

“Of course I own a soul! I am a soul! How do I talk? How do I move? All with the assistance of a soul.”

“Are those rhetorical questions?”

“They’re whatever you want them to be.”

“I see a spark in that empty eye socket of yours. It’s an occasional flash. That’s all that remains of you.”

“Of me?”

“Of your soul”

“That idiot just wanders off and does what he wants.”

“Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t have a soul. Not really. He just likes to complain.”

“You don’t say?”

“Hmph, you’re one to talk about souls,” Emil growls, “I suppose your heir will dance in the light of the moon.”

The Queen frowns, “Our baby will be fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do people wish for more?”

“From a future king? A future immortal? Yes.”

“You really shouldn’t get involved with other people’s children. It gives you wrinkles-”

“Uh guys its-”

“-I am composed of creases and grooves, plain and simple. Babes make no difference to my complexion.”

“I’ll be happy if the baby’s fine. If they’re simply ordinary.”

“Will the king be pleased?”

“Ecstatic. His son will have something he can never have.”

“A soul?”

“Yes. A soul in the shades.”

“How loathsome.”

“How tragic.”

“Such a waste," Abram sighs, "But fellas, that creepy crawly thing is here.”

The town made on the backs of the devoured came to a stand still, its eyes straining in the shade. After a few moments, it finds its monarch in the dark and gives a tired groan. The Queen sighs and gives a little wave.

Slowly, a door unhinges itself from the city’s brow, curling like the strip of tongue. The king appears in a blur of yellow, grinning down at the storyteller’s guild sitting in the Autumn leaves. He focuses on his bride, who is trying to suppress a similar smirk. Raising a bony hand, The King beckons her to follow him into the city’s gut. His Queen nods and smiles at the rest of the group.

“I really enjoyed talking with you all. Thank you for tolerating me at your meeting.”

Abram grins, Gus waves an arm and a leg and Emil gives a curt nod as their guest returns to their nest. All three men watch as the city of tomorrow engulfs its figureheads and disappears back into the never ending woods.

“Well that was something huh?” Abram gasps.

“Abe?”

“Yep Emillian?”

“Remind me to never invite royalty to our meetings.”

“The air was different there.”

The King and Queen sit inside their screen porch, peering out at the world on its side. The Queen whistles a lullaby long forgotten by time, smiling at her husband’s confusion.

“It would be love. You’re a long way from home now. A long way from the bones and the cold.”

“Not far enough it appears. How far have we travelled?”

“Hmm, if I had to estimate we are about two hundred miles from the mountains.”

“Huh. Is that far?”

“Very, very far for you and I. To some, two hundred miles is a single step.”

“Is “Some” Your friends down there.”

“No. They’re like us.”

“Like the corridors?”

“No. Not like the corridors at all. They have...something in there with all the flesh and the bones and the metal-”

“Souls?” The King’s eyes flash in the dying sun.

“Maybe. I’m not too sure.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yes it was very...beneficial,”

“Did you tell them about your ma?”

“Yes and my father,”

The King gives a wistful sigh and rests his thin face in his palms. The Queen relaxes in her throne, her feet tired from the day’s work. Her husband gives her a small smile.

“I wonder what colour my soul would be.”

“Silver. A flickering silver that disappears every so often.”

“I hate being read.”

“I’m not reading you. I’m simply analysing.”

“Ah! Simple analysis, you old, old fool! What started this conversation again? I’ve forgotten love.”

“We were discussing souls, as we always seem to do.”

“Hmm, silver. Grey even? Grey like feathers.”

“Like your aura.” The Queen giggles.

“Auras? You think we have auras? Auras are distractions,”

“Oh? What do we have then?”

“Phantoms are what we have. The world moved on from enjoyment and left it as just a string of words and moments. Much like what the world did to me. It abandoned me.”

“You are not abandoned. You still have an old, old fool, right by your side.” His wife reaches for his arm and places her hand in his, finger intertwined.

“That’s true. The world left me with phantoms, to contemplate in the dark. It left me in the lonely corners to wait for you. And now that’s all I desire. My old, old fool with a soul made of gold.”

“You know, you really should have gone to the meeting in my place. My friends would have loved you.”

“Maybe so. But it was your quest to complete. And I’m very proud of you. Now you can let the past go and look towards the future.” He lowers his gaze to his wife’s stomach and gives her fingers a squeeze.

“It was helpful. I had fun.”

“I’m glad. The corridors were getting anxious,”

“They’re always anxious,”

“They thought you’d leave me,”

The Queen sighs, “You shouldn’t listen to them all the time. They don’t live and they never have. You wish for a soul and they loathe consciousness,”

“We were lonely. I was lonely.”

“I know. I could hear you. But I came back, didn't I?”

“Yes. Yes you did. But sometimes-”

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes... I dream of that unicorn,”

“My unicorn?”

“Yes. I dream of you and me. You’re a unicorn, all smoke and mirrors, and I try to cut your mane. I startle you and you run away from me,”

“That will never happen love. I would never do that to you. Or him,” The Queen pats her stomach fondly.

“The corridors don’t help,” The King sighs.

“Don’t listen to them. Just sit here with me.”

“Things will get better,” The King whispers, and he tries to relax on his chair, tries to appreciate his family’s return.

The screaming walls make it difficult.

#my writing #creative writing #ongoing series #part 4 of 4 #a devil's palm story #fantasy #surreal #storytelling #parallel worlds #monsters #cryptids #cryptidcore #oddcore #weirdcore #american gothic #southern gothic #last part of a series #sorry this took a really long time #rough draft

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quinn-tessence · 4 years

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Paint me like one of your French girls

Part 2

This goes out to all the artists in this heart warming Joker community, who still find so much inspiration in our beloved character. Thank you for sharing with us how you see Arthur/Joker through your eyes, your creative vision brings so much joy and comfort through these troubling times! 🙏🤡❤

Summary: you accept Joker's invitation against your better judgement, even after he'd broken into your home and caught you red handed. His rhetoric makes you fall into his degraded sense of civic duty. So does his sly but chivalrous demeanor, a different shade of the Arthur you used to know. You're in for a revelation that seals the deal.

Length: 7k ish, gradual build up

Warnings: a touch of Theodore Twombly, splashes of Arthur and heavy strokes of Joker, mentions of mental conditions, flirty fluff, oh smut, yes, yes, keep readin'

As his scent still lingered, the yellow street lights engulfed the room as you stood naked at the window, facing the portrait you'd painted. Maybe it had only been the light reflecting off its surface, but you could have sworn it was looking right through you.

Did this really happen? You thought to yourself as you stepped down from your high, hoping this had not just been one more of your self induced vivid fantasies. But the flammable cocktail he'd left lingering in your studio was a stark reminder.

Arthur had come at last, even if one year late, but it had been Joker breathing down your neck, intoxicating you with whispers of your most ardent desires. A butterfly in the path of a flame you were, the attraction to him primal, insatiable, frightening. Was this really Arthur? He was surely the Clown Prince of Crime, and that was not something sweet Arthur could have maneuvered while pumping himself full of antidepressants.

‘I'd put my mouth on you’ resounded against your temples, his purring whispers a delicious catalyst for a continuous pulsating sensation throughout the night. 'Cause that's how I imagine you every night' had been the least expected confession, had he lied to just get you hooked, he'd been successful. As you tried to drift away, you'd force yourself to resist the urge and keep yourself untouched for him. Agonizing as that was, how he'd stirred the embers in your mind had made any of your attempts futile. No substitute would do.

Tick, tock. You hadn't heard your bedside clock ticking for years, but today it was thumping, a metronome to steady your breath as you woke. The only sensible action was to take charge and keep yourself busy. He was going to get what he wanted, clearly he had made the alternative impossible with his mischievous schemes. But he had been thinking of you all night as well, and that was one aspect up to be exploited.

A few minutes to 9 PM, a pinup doll you'd never seen before was staring right back at you in the mirror. His spine tingling whispers had made you work on yourself on commission. He had one demand and it was up to you to fill up the rest of the canvas to impress.

The street was empty as you walked out on the dot. Swiftly, 3 SUVs pulled up in front of your alley, and your heart leapt to your throat.

Here comes the devil. Dashing. Elegant. Ravishing in that pristine makeup, green eyes piercing your whole body as he swaggered closer, his body ambling, almost floating on air. Your art made him no justice compared to the original. Any shades of color you might have painted before would pale in comparison to how they contoured him in the flesh, and the makeup uneven, yet always perfect. Smoke fuming from his mouth, his heels screeched the pavement as if to warn you danger is nearing, yet your knees grew weaker with each step he took.

He was… just as slim as you remembered, but somehow a bit taller. Instead of Arthur’s timorous gazes, a devilish smirk crowned his beautiful jawline enough to make you forget even your name. You couldn't help but wonder why the dress as his gaze systematically reduced any fabric covering your skin to irrelevance. The emerald green eyes had already made you whimper in silence, this wasn't going to get any easier.

‘Hi Y/N. Glad you decided to come tonight.’ An eyebrow twitch accompanied his words as a much needed release from hypnosis.

‘Hi, Joker. Not sure if I had a choice in accepting your invitation.’ An unmistakable vibration in your voice immediately made his deep, long dimples contour his well defined face. The sexiest dimples you'd ever seen in a man, you were certain.

‘Of course you did. You had one week to consider, and here you are. I must admit, you are your finest work of art so far. Is all of this for me?’

‘I have a date later and I thought I’d dress to impress. The fella seemed to have some serious intentions.' The thump of your heartbeat could easily be heard by his armed men keeping watch. Thankfully, they minded their business.

‘What a lucky fella. He'd better, or else I know a few guys who can straighten him up'

An eyebrow twitch followed by a tongue in cheek chuckle, he tried to distract your noticing by running a hand through his slick green hair, but his shy gaze fell to his feet. Hi, Arthur…

‘In this case, we'd better be on our way before we get all of us in trouble. A couple precautions before we go. I'll need to wrap this around your eyes to protect the location we're headed to. It'll be a 30 minutes drive. Sadly, I’ll have to jump in another car, for both our protection. If anything happens on the road, I’ll be the main target and my guys are sworn to keep you safe. But we took care of a few things and Gotham should be teeming with crime tonight, enough for us to have a safe journey. Are you ready?’ his hand extended, your primary instincts shameless traitors. As you touched his fingertips, you went all in.

You both hopped into one SUV, his proximity to you nerve wrecking, the warmth of his slender body radiating against your prickled skin. The way he had been staring into your eyes for a few seconds was making you question reality. Shutting your eyes as he wrapped his tie around them didn't help clear the waters.

‘Tell me if it's too tight.’

‘Wouldn't that be the point? Don't untighten it.’

‘Miss Y/L/N... Here you are, blindfolded in the backseat of my SUV, about to drive off with Gotham's most wanted. Knowing your inner circle, I’d have wagered they'd advise you to keep better company. Good thing I’m not a betting man.’

‘Well, a certain gentleman had made a promise last night, if I remember correctly'

‘Indeed he had. I'm not going to hurt you'

‘That was not the promise...' you forced the corners of your mouth to not betray your titillating reaction.

‘Wasn't it?’

An endearing giggle helped cut the tension in your core, but you gently startled at the feel of his fingers caressing your cheek and rushing over your lower lip, the ever present smell of nicotine flooding your nostrils, the lack of eyesight heightening your other senses. Somehow he made this feel like a dream.

‘See you soon'

A 30 minute drive with only the voice of Frank. Thoughtful touch, making you feel close to home even while venturing into a world of batshit crazy. Blindfolding you might have been for protection, but it served another more tantalizing purpose. And processed you did, but not at all did it help with the anxiety. If anything, Joker had poured gasoline on the bonfire he had started the night before.

The cars stopped and the door opened, your hand touched softly, you were descending from the car and carefully directed forward by his arms. You’d been right about his scent, and it drove you mad as he helped you watch your step.

‘Open your eyes'

The venue, a vineyard outside Gotham, with a manor and view of the lake. Breathtakingly elegant and conveniently out of police jurisdiction. A coquette set up on the front terrace in an open space foyer, the breeze rustling the flowers that dangled from it. As beautiful a venue, in reality he was still the center piece of this canvas, the white streaks of makeup, his green hair, the contrasts of his suit, that never ending cigarette. Unethical, dangerous, beautiful. What was he doing to you?

‘Welcome to my summer retreat. Glad you decided to join me, miss Y/L/N.’ He pulled a chair for you, elegantly inviting you to sit.

‘If we’re so intimately acquainted, why are you calling me by my last name?’

‘I like the taste of it on my lips. I like kitten more, but you know, pleasantries and all.’

He'd called you that before. Arthur was there, but Joker was clearly behind that lewd smirk and tantalizing choice of words. Tingles started running up your thighs without warning, in sync with the rhythm of his cues.

‘Pleasantries are for strangers'

‘Oh! Well then. We already see eye to eye' the clicking of glass betrayed a slight tremor in his hands as he poured a little more wine than necessary.

‘Cheers, thank you for having me here. How could I decline the invitation?’

‘I didn't know if you'd accept the invite one year later.’

‘And yet you took the risk'

‘How could I not be intrigued by the artist who paints me as a primary subject? You can imagine my surprise when I found out you were the same Y/N from the pharmacy queue. Why did you move out?’ As gallant as he was, he sure knew how to cut straight to the point.

‘I... I wasn't in a good place, I needed to uproot myself. So I quit the force, moved out, became a full time artist and painted my view of the world. That gives me fulfillment, I had been searching for it in the wrong place, I guess.’

‘Can’t argue with that. Fascinating. Tell me more.’

‘How far back should I go that you don't already know?’ His eyes moved away for a second, then returned with an intensity to freeze one's bones to the core.

‘It would mean so much more if I heard it from your lips rather than my trusted informants’. ’

That sweet white wine was a dangerous catalyst to unleash to him your widest smile, comforted by the verified honesty of his stories and his sharing of turmoil at the world. He'd also been an artist, although his conditions had been a detriment to his success in a comedy career, and support for him nonexistent at best.

You were just as fluent in Arthur's tragic life as he was in your tumultuous one. You’d been reduced to tears in your late nights when processing his fall into madness and how helpless he had been. All alone. That utter feeling of pain and grief had fueled your inspiration through all those months. But now the makeup made him look younger, the furrows of life less visible on his skin, that deep sorrow hidden under a thick layer of overconfidence, and if that was what he wanted to show you tonight, the last thing you'd do was force him otherwise.

A couple hours flew within minutes, the food half nibbled, his elbows on the table, his eyes every shade of the sea amidst a storm, devouring your every twitch as you spoke. Each time you'd meet them, he'd watch you languidly, dissecting your every reaction, the corner of his mouth slowly arching his dimples into existence. You had already sunk deeply in the sight of him chuckling and occasionally strolling his delicate long fingers through his green locks. He was so real and close to the touch, his presence so electrifying, it gave you fever.

And yet he made you feel comfortable. It had been a long time since a man had done so well and so naturally, you had forgotten how sweet the shivers were. And here was Arthur, that once shy, flustering man, igniting fire after fire in your gut with each elegant note of his voice and moves of his slender body. You couldn’t tell if the spark in his eye was his, or a reflection of your flaming self.

‘My turn to share?’

‘Yeah maybe I should stop talking for a while now, sorry, I got a bit carried away.’

‘Nonsense. You're my guest, why would I have brought you here if I didn't want to hear your stories?’

‘Well if you insist, I could think up a few reasons… aaand here I go, I’m so sorry, that was a bad joke, I swear it's the wine speaking…', your hand went straight to your face in a desperate attempt to hide your tipsy embarrassment.

Typical of you to screw this up, atta girl, you thought to yourself, feeling how your cheeks had turned the color of your dress. You weren't lying, the wine had had a woozing effect, but you were drunk on him instead. As you shyly lifted your eyes, a hungry wolf was lurking beneath the painted blue diamonds, eyes as deep as an ocean, eyebrows creasing his forehead in long, deep wrinkles. It wasn't fair how the red razor sharp grin cut through his cheeks like furrows, his crooked teeth exposed enough to make you bite your lip in shame of your sassy comment.

‘That's… one description, but not the one I’d choose… When you come out from under there, I have a surprise for you. Come with me inside for a minute.’

That red dress suddenly shrunk tightly on your chest, the fabric a suffocating shroud for your skin. Guided through the gliding doors, an elegant galley of your work hung against a red brick wall. You felt a knot in your throat, your eyes watering.

‘This part of the house is my little sanctuary. Where I come to spend time with you, with how you see me through your eyes. I started collecting those the minute I felt alive through your art, immortal, legendary. You’re fueling my ego, you know?’

This was more of a shock than a surprise. A shock at your naivety than at his right to purchase your public art. He had kept all your thank you cards, even if you'd thought you'd written them for different clients. He called them your letters. They were to him, and about him, so he found it appropriate. Was this just incredibly romantic, or was it the schizoid paranoia from his official diagnosis?

Right then, the realization finally struck, and it struck with the sound of a thousand church bells between your temples. You’d shared such intimacy with him for months, and he’d been financing your bohemian lifestyle since you’d left the force. This was his big night, just as much as yours, it was clear as you looked into his eyes to see sweet Arthur from the pharmacy line. Yet his shy gaze betrayed anything but an expectation to cash in that cheque. You were ignoring all the red flags again, the rush of emotion rendering you incapable of clear thought.

And yet, your body was yearning to shed its covers and unravel your latest masterpiece to absorb his reaction through every pore, but you gave into your superficially cautious thoughts. As he stood next to you in admiration, he lit a cigarette and passed it over after puffing almost halfway. You’d never thought the sight of red marks on a cigarette would be the catalyst to set you ablaze in your choice of men, but you'd been ironically wrong. The very close presence of this clown felt nothing like fear and anxiety, even more so as he was fidgeting so sweetly. An adorable irrational fear of a possible rejection had kept a never ending cigarette between his lips, and your heart coiled at seeing a painted Arthur before you.

‘I hope you don't mind. If a fire broke out tomorrow I'd save these first. You saw me when I needed to be seen, and the way I needed to be seen. Your art is breathtaking. Nothing humbles me as admiring it.’

You felt as light as a feather as his hand extended once again, and carried you back to the foyer to pour the last glass of wine.

‘I gotta be honest with you, kitten. I’m not an easy guy to be around. My mind is a twisted place, and past treatments were … debilitating, to say the least. Fate took me off those by force, just to feel much better afterwards, ironically. I switched my treatment for a couple conditions in the meantime. You see, having difficulty distinguishing reality from imagination could be quite inconvenient in my line of business. Else, I'd be back in Arkham by now.’

For a deranged criminal, he was exquisitely refined. His posture, his attire, the cigarette between his fingers were radioactive. This deceitfully feeble man had once bashed in the brains of a man twice his size with a pair of scissors and a wall, the police records had been detailed enough to make your stomach churn. His slim, delicate body was a dangerous trap for those who questioned his ferocity and agility coupled with his multiple mental conditions. The 3 Wall Street guys had had no idea what a catalyst they were about to be. And yet, here he was. Delicate and gentle, maybe even vulnerable.

‘Back? Why back?’ you asked despite knowing every little detail.

‘Not an easily digestible subject, I’m sure you'd agree. That's a conversation for another time, but here I am, flesh and blood, thinking as clearly as daybreak. In most aspects.’

That wine must have had no effect on him, as he continued to control the conversation, steering it with refinement, clearly more cautious than yourself.

‘What aspects are not clear?’

‘Is this an interrogation, kitten?’ his wide gaze from under long eyelashes coupled with the pet name off his lips were utterly debilitating.

‘Not at all, I am intrigued. Please tell me more'

‘If the lady insists. What’s unclear? Well some minor details. Like my future, my life, the next target, evading the police, you.’ His emeralds confidently strolled along the lines of your face, particularly the curve of your lips. Not at all distracting.

‘I can understand the others, but me?’

‘You see me for who I want to be. I’m not always Joker, that's for my men, my criminal nightlife. You knew me before all this, and you paint that man wearing this Joker outfit. Sometimes I wish it were so, but most times I am convinced that it must be otherwise.’

He swallowed hard and emptied his glass.

‘So you see how your artistic depiction of me is what I want to see when I look in the mirror, not what they say on TV. It's kept me from going too far, it gives me a level of restraint that this Joker makeup laughs at, and I really prefer that to any straight jacket. I like this new man I’ve become, but I can't allow him to overwhelm the old me. Whomever that was.’

As he spoke, there was a sweet sadness to his voice that proceeded to melt you from the inside, furthering the utterly irresponsible, delicious plunge. He was forcing himself to smile even through the most painful truths, like a tic developed through years of practice, but his voice faltered here and there, trying to stifle his bouncing knee. All you wanted was to cup his cheek and caress him through the anxiety that had been crippling the body of both his whole life. He reached out for another cigarette before you could fulfill that thought.

‘I… am flattered, to say the least. I wasn't sure what to expect of tonight, but I will have another glass of wine, please. If there's any left in this beautiful vineyard.’

‘Coming right up!’

He danced nimbly into the kitchen, Sinatra serenading an audience of hanging grapes and the two of you.

Impressed was an understatement. Where was that psychopathic, vicious killer clown that all the headlines had been about for the past year, that your friends had tried to warn you of? Joker had been a gentleman so far, none of his known crimes had tainted that opinion of him, not even Murray to be quite frank. He wasn't half as ruthless as he had been demonized to be. How he spoke so caringly about his men, they were not just his goons, he trusted them, and they trusted him. This didn't make your coming here any wiser, not in the eyes of society. But your mind was already made up.

He soon returned with a new bottle, poured a glass and extended his hand.

‘Voulez vous danser avec moi, mademoiselle?’ That pristine makeup and red suit molded him into the most alluring devil coming to claim you. Speaking in French had sealed the deal.

‘Biensur, monsieur.’

Strolling you across the terrace on The Way You Look Tonight, leaning you onto his chest, his palm on the small of your back, gently intrusive. The warmth of his body engulfed yours, his cheek on your temple, he had you craving for a heavy dose. He was such a good dancer, you felt like a feather in his delicate arms as he turned you a few times then leaned you backwards to lift your thigh in a shy attempt to test your responsiveness. The innocence of his smile quickly altered into curiosity as his fingers brushed over your garter. A glimmering spark coated his devilish eyes and an eyebrow twitch marked the epitome of nonverbal cues.

‘Where did you learn French?’

‘From old movies on the telly. Unfortunately, my extensive knowledge of French will end here. I'd always fall asleep through the romantic dancing, so I don't know what comes next.’

‘What a terrible waste of a beautiful evening that would be…’

‘It would… But I've also prepared for tonight, kitten, in many ways.’ You whirled at his directive once again.

‘You did indeed. I appreciate the effort.’

‘Hah, I’m sure you do…' he chuckled to himself mischievously. 'I know I am putting you in an awfully strange position by being here and showing you all this. I'd like to know you're comfortable, all things considered. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you.’

‘Yes, how thoughtful indeed. Especially after how you left me last night.’

‘Ohhh yes, I did that, didn’t I?’

‘My dating rulebook had a few pages torn out, so I had to skip a couple chapters in my preparation. Perhaps you could fill me in on the content of those missing pages…’

He hadn't expected you to make the first move, the surprise in his eyes at seeing you instinctively biting your lip was palpable, but the tension in your core had overstepped any boundaries.

‘… I wouldn't want to drag you down. I'll catch up. What page are you on right now?’

As you spoke, you were dancing him inside the mansion, towards the main art room. Tantalizing him, your lips grazing over his, locking eye contact intensely, then shying away. His intrigue at your little game etched a smirk across his face, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your waist, very gently contouring the girdle holding your stockings.

‘I have an advanced edition. The page that cautions against wearing lace for a long time.’

‘Lace?… oh. Ohhh! I see! Yeah, I remember that. In the missing pages, they strongly advised removing all other clothes for easier access to the lace…'

Your back sensually turned to him, his fingers lowered your back zipper, the feel of burning wet lips on your neck snatched a deep moan from yours as a hum vibrated against your ear. In a swift second, you were in his arms being carried in front of his gallery, and as soon as the stilettos touched the ground, your dress was framing your ankles at his careful directive.

‘Oh... The advanced edition must have a copy of my journal in the writers' room’ his eyes gleaming, he took a step back to revel in the sight of his freshly lace garnished gallery.

‘Not really. Seeing how you wrapped me up in a tight bow, I found another way of adding a… touch… of myself.’

A wide grin across his face, he was visibly panting. His hands straight to the top of his teal shirt in a desperate attempt to get some fresh air. The light emanated from the frames of his portraits contoured your body as he approached with careful steps, as if a predator stalked its prey, strolling hungry eyes all over your curves.

‘And here I was, thinking I’d seen the best of you yesterday. Look at you… you're worth every damn risk in the book. Tell me, have you been a good girl last night?’

He slowly ascended the 3 steps leading to the art wall where you stood in your unholy red lace lingerie, stockings hanging from your girdle insolently. Your pedestal, that was. Colin was right, reality beats fiction every god damn time. If he only knew.

‘I clearly haven't. I should have called the cops on you. Yet you break in and rake me up with your mischievous whispers, you make me dress up for you and bring me here, to all this, and then claim you don't want to overwhelm me. You're acting like a gentleman but you're really a sneaky bastard, aren't you?’

Shamefully you put all the blame for your descent into his madness on him, as if you’d taken no part in this tantalizing game. In his ascent, he had gained the advantage right back, towering over you in all his colorful splendor. In that very moment, he knew you were his. The corners of his mouth arched so intensely that no amount of makeup could cover Arthur's arousing wrinkles any longer. He knew very well that he was the devil coming to claim what was his, and his gentle demeanor had shifted drastically to reflect that and scorch you. His inquisitive eyes onto the soft edges of the red brassiere, his tongue strolling over his lips lusciously, you were soon humming to yourself.

‘I… I am about to fuck you into next month. I hope you cancelled your plans, pussycat.’

His bluntness made it clear that Arthur had left you at the mercy of this clown, yet every atom of your body craved him.

‘How gallant… What about your criminal activities?’

‘I'm taking a small vacation. My men will shake things up enough to keep your buddies doing overtime. As for being a gentleman, I’m done with that for tonight.’

‘What if I say no?’

‘I made sure you wouldn't do that last night’

The moment you felt his ragged breath against your skin, you melted away in his arms, like gold in a fire pit. You gave in completely to his hungry lips trembling as he kissed you, his whole body as tense as a string, savoring you with heavy gulps. The intensity of his grip, the weight of his body, the shivers in his flesh betrayed the end of a painful anticipation that he'd yearned for. The bitterness of his makeup was the first shock, the second was his body weight heavy against you, the third the most unnerving, ohhh la la! If one lit a match you'd both combust in flames.

‘How about we skip the pleasantries, mm?’ he whispered in between heavy gulps of you, far from asking for permission.

The taste of his mouth, a mélange of cigarettes, wine, bitter makeup, each flavor made your limits become optional. Lace was suddenly no longer a threat for your breasts, as his fingers bared your chest for his delight, quickly followed by his painted thin lips. Something about him made you feel like a dangerous woman. Devouring you whole, shoulders, neck, breasts, his makeup brushed faded color tracing his steps, little moans escaping his throat at the taste of your skin. To your left, a full gallery of your ardent attempts to bring him back. You’d been afraid for so long to articulate your feelings for him even to yourself, always denying the possible realization of this moment. But his warm tongue strolling along your navel was a check mate to your insecurities, and now your body was his canvas, painting you in shades of Joker.

As he got on his knees, you felt yours would weaken in an instant, the heels of your stilettos working their way to penetrate yours.

‘I think we should take the advice in the rulebook and avoid exposure to lace for too long, don't you?’ his nimble fingers removed the lace panties and his tongue invaded your core before you could object. As if.

Fuck yesss… you exhaled a touch too loudly.

‘Oh dear, where are your manners, young lady?’ as if he wasn't speaking with a mouthful.

The sight of his green hair falling over the red jacket, his wide eyes pinned on yours, his mouth gobbling at you had been your usual suspects for the past year. But you'd imagined Arthur under the makeup, and these darkened eyes betrayed another beast altogether, a hungry, voracious beast. A surprisingly crafty one, within seconds he'd made you purr uncontrollably.

An outpour of sensation washed over you, body and mind together feeling so sensual and wanted, he was controlling your body with his tongue even as he knelt before you. You’d been intoxicated by the smell of cologne, cigarette and faint gasoline, your finger tips tracing the freshly applied white makeup and green dye on his temples. Soon enough, the slick bastard was maneuvering your clit, exposing and tasting it to his own pleasure. For a second, he moaned as he lost himself in your folds, the sounds of him enjoying what he was doing to you made you pulsate on his tongue. He'd rattled you down to your heels, you were panting so hard you were afraid you would tumble.

‘Joker… I’m gonna fall…’

‘Now now… let me finish this first, then you can fall for me, kitten.’

It hadn't even crossed your mind to make that connection, but you were once again red-handed. You couldn't help but let out a silly school girl giggle as he got up and lifted you in his arms, so much stronger than his slim complexion let see, carrying you to the large sofa, gently laying you in a corner.

‘Is this better?’

Your eyes the size of two full moons, you nodded.

‘Keep those devils on, will you?’ winking at the red soles of the Louboutins you'd chosen for the occasion. You nodded once more with beggar eyes.

‘The taste of you… mmm how I’ve yearned for it… I wasn't joking about your cancelled plans. Don't say you weren't warned' he whispered as he kissed you, his taste and yours mingled on his lips were an aphrodisiac. You nodded obediently one last time.

Kneeling once again between your thighs, he proceeded to unbutton his vest, then his shirt, yet maintaining eye contact. Damn, that new treatment must have been making miracles. You had never been intimate with Arthur before, but you couldn't miss that it was Joker in between your thighs. You’d be shamelessly lying if you said you didn't want him to take you just like this, a painted, deranged clown that had been stalking you for months, the danger an essential part of the thrill.

As he bared his chest, a deep purple covered part of his left ribcage underneath the teal shirt, his nightlife trade in violence etched onto his body, causing you to frown with genuine concern. That must have been why he seemed to flinch and change course at the thought of baring his body to you. In his own time.

You trembled as his warm breath spread over your clit, sinking his tongue in whatever he'd made of you already. The intense eye contact would be enough stimulant to answer your burning curiosities, but he had his to satisfy. Savoring each slurp, he was masterfully tensing you up like a guitar string ready to pop at the next twirl, and those diamonds around his eyes only served to plunge you into the ferocity of his curious gazes. You were a ball of ache to feel his flesh slither inside you, tongue, fingers, cock. The thirst you’d felt for him for so long was strikingly visible in your quivering body and four octave moans, his palms strolling across the red lace all the way up to your breasts. How insatiable he was in his exploration, each touch a stronger confirmation that you were really, finally his.

A soft stroke of his tongue over his lips yanked you out of any distraction, an uncontrolled twitch of your knees betraying a futile instinct of self preservation. Your reflexes had been off by around a year, though. You whined and moaned and shivered under his velvet lips as he strolled them down your breasts, your ribs, your belly button, feeling the jolts in your body and reveling in them as he hummed. Each kiss he carefully peppered onto your prickled skin sent you into a maddening spiral, your core a backdraft aching for him to extinguish. How ironic. You had grown up petrified of those nightmares of a dreadful clown chasing you down to eat you whole. Who would have thought these terrors would develop into consuming yearnings 20 years later?

The high that came with his virtuosity made the fabric of reality feel hazy, your fingers tangled in his green hair an anchor to the real world, where it seemed as if your body had been designed for him to unlock. With each feathery stroke he'd have you yearning for more, contorting in lust as he tasted you for his own pleasure. Your fingers on his white temple, he seemed intrigued by the beggar look staring right at him, so he buried his tongue deeper.

‘This tastes exactly how I imagined it…’

This hungry wolf kept on controlling your whole body through his tongue, slurping each drop of pleasure he brought. The narcissist in him was feeding off each reaction he ignited, reveling in the fact that he was the cause of all this hot mess, and you were falling like rain on a scorching mid summer day.

‘You rascal... Is this your MO, you threaten your prey 24 hours before the inevitable?’

‘I usually take ‘em by surprise'

Fire and ice collided in your core into an outwash of sensation and your eyes drowned in the back of your head as he gentry filled you up with one finger ‘Ohh… right there…’. It was too much to bear as his tongue played with your flushed bud and his finger stroke at your deepest well of intense pleasure. Never would you have thought Arthur capable of pleasuring a woman so exquisitely, but here he was, proving you wrong in the most delicious way you'd never imagined.

He was an artist after all, a nimble dancer who was born with music in his veins. And what is dancing than making love set to music? How he constantly drained you of every drop of pleasure with his skillful tongue, as if he'd finally found his vocation. The tenderness of his touches betrayed a long lasting want for you in his arms, a haunting want that he'd finally captured and was now close enough to taste.

‘Oh God, this is too good, please keep going' your voice had turned into beseeching cries.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes, please…’

‘Mmm… Right here?’

‘Y… yes… don't stop please', the words poured out as if coming from the sweetest place of ecstasy, the beggar look and pulsating muscles a dead giveaway.

‘Come for me, pussycat, and look at me as you do...’

His command to come for him tipped you off the edge instantly, he had released the hold on the leaning rollercoaster, his tongue twirling and stroking your flushed bud. His piercing eyes gleamed as your skin went aflame and you combusted in his mouth harder than you’d ever had before. Your mind was devoid of thought as you let yourself sink into his fervent caresses. He held you down as you bucked and convulsed in blissful agony pinned onto his finger, he sank his nose and tongue into your cunt, prideful for making you come so soon. You felt flushed, ravaged, trembling from all joints, your eyes in the back of your head unable to contain their fluttering any longer. His starved frenzy had eased into careful strokes with a soft tongue, comforting you through the dwindling climax.

‘Whoa, hello there, pussycat… how I love hearing you purr like this for me’

He climbed up to you gently, the widest, proudest grin imaginable etched on his face as he smacked his lips. The lower half was smudged enough for his mouth to be visible under a glistening coat of you, and there it was. The scar that you'd specifically left out of the composite sketch. It was very old, a part of him, his face branded uniquely. As much as the clown costume spewed fire down your spine, you so badly wanted to see Arthur without it once again.

‘Joker…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I'm gonna…’

‘Come again?’

His nimble fingers were skillfully riding you fast towards another orgasm, your core still highly sensitive after your first one.

‘That's it kitten, give this joker what he wants. You're so damn beautiful, I want all of you'

His savory whispers lifted you to your peak, then his lips kissed you through your implosive ecstasy as your whole body quivered under his. The taste of you on his lips should be his new cologne from then on. After he’d seeded those thoughts the night before, it wasn't at all surprising how your body overreacted to his touches. Murmuring softly in your ear, he slowly released the grip as you descended from the second high. Your palms caressed his jawline, the feel of paint covering his skin a contradiction you'd never felt before. But here he was, teaching you what you didn't know how.

‘There there, I’ll let go now'

‘No, don't, please. Give me more…' You begged, commanding respect as the highly virtuous, dignified lady you were in that moment.

His smile as wide as on Christmas morning, his eyebrows raised, a chuckle exulting his whole body, he clearly hadn't expected that reaction so soon. Cat's out of the bag now.

‘Well well well… Look at you beg!'

‘I didn't beg…!'

‘But you will'

You should have known better than falling into that again, but you were too distracted with unbuttoning his red pants and finding the real culprit for your sleepless nights. If you'd known Joker from so many accounts, this had not been in any police record. But boy, it should have been, you wouldn't have thinned your art exhibitions to avoid being found, what a ridiculous thing to do!

With a swift motion, he was already in between your thighs. Lowering his white briefs and positioning himself at your glistening entrance, he was massaging with the tip, testing your sensitivity. This surely wasn't the same gallant gentleman who'd wooed you so far, this was another animal who was toying with his food, and you had willingly stepped into his lair.

‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

His eyes squinted in the dim light, a smug smile to his ears and your whole body jolted at the feel of him entering you all the way down, groaning with eyes in the back of his head.

‘Knowing me, what’s the difference?’

You molded so well on him as he filled you up and some more, his arms locking you down for his pleasure. Careful and gentle at first, his knees deep in the couch the more he'd bury himself into you, his face immersed in your hair gulping your scent, his tongue nibbling your ear.

‘And now I’m inside you. All the way inside you', his hand caressing your jawline, shyly brushing over your gaping mouth before kissing you.

Releasing yourself to him had been the epitome of the most ardent desires clawing out of you progressively. You‘d craved each and every word he was whispering in your ear as he was having you. His size filled you all the way in, you must have been molded to him or else you could not fathom how you'd never felt so awash as you did with Joker. He was going there, working exquisitely to get his little prize again, and it was terrifying how familiar he had become with your sweet spot in under an hour. Perhaps you'd anticipated this moment for months on end that his slightest touch would just keep you hooked in a state of blissful tension. His slim body felt heavy over you, his sharp pelvis bones grinding against your inner thighs, his protruding ribs over yours.

And yet he was so beautiful, no other man had ever awakened such riveting feelings inside your gut so effortlessly. The amount of torment this man had felt throughout his life, and yet he was still capable of making you feel such heart warming bliss in his arms. As he'd wrapped you around him tight, his palm on your cheek, his forehead to yours, it was clear you weren't just tonight's fuck. He had longed for you, and you were finally his. And his you were.

‘I'd asked myself so many times why you kept painting me, and what would you think about when you did that… Am I on the right track?’

You were a broken record of enticing approvals, your mind and body in ecstatic agony. This was not the same man from Pogo's Comedy Club, or the same man on the police car for that matter. This man was phlegmatic, charismatic and gallant enough to be a dirty flirt, and so goddamn dashing in his suit and makeup. Everything about him was such a contradiction it was driving you rabid.

Getting plowed you screamed and panted heavily, your core soaking him whole. His strokes were taking you to the edge, had they been delicate so far, now they were progressively vicious as he heard you whimper. Your mind was a sweet void, a deep abyss of shivers and tingles shrouding you in free fall, your dry lips pleading him to keep going.

As he bit his lips, his facial features turned aggressive, his eyes dark with lust. You moaned as he laid you down and fucked you hard and deep, hitting your sweet spot rhythmically, your cries fuel to his ego. The sneaky bastard was grinning at the sight of his kitten crumbling under his pleasure, so damn proud of himself.

‘You've been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?’

Your five senses were invaded by his forehead sweaty onto yours, his eyes a hypnotizing flood of green murky waters, the smell of ammonia and cigarettes filling your nostrils, his husky voice whispering softly as his cock rummaged your sweet spot.

‘You want to be my precious little slut doll, don't you? Come for me.’

Oh god… a new set of pleasure waves rushed through your flesh progressively. Something about the way he cursed sent you into a spiral, how it tipped you over into another outpour of muscle spasms. Under tight grips, he fucked you the way you needed to be fucked, fast and hard, without a pinch of mercy, his cock growing stronger under your spastic contractions, Arthur must have left the building completely. You slowly shed every ounce of ecstasy as he trailed his eyes down your body, his breath ragged, his voice purring little silent curses.

You're here, really here, you're mine, all mine, his voice whispered right before his sea green eyes disappeared in the back of his head and you felt a strong throb rushing through you as he spilled himself into you, shuddering, panting, gasping for air. His moans in pleasure were an aphrodisiac you’d never believed you'd get a taste of. But here it was, and all you wanted was to savor it at your discretion again and again.

As he descended from his high, his body felt heavy and his heart galloped against your chest, yet his lips still lingered on your skin, peppering it with red traces of himself. Joker had ousted the whole world from your senses, leaving only himself under your skin, his embrace the safest shelter for both.

‘If you only knew…’ he whispered as he lay his face to rest in the nuzzle of your neck ‘… just how many times I’ve played this in my head, kitten… If there's one good thing out of my condition, it's that my imagination can be blissfully vivid.’ His fingers deciphered your face gently, grabbling the warmth of the skin. ‘But every time I’d wake hopeful, you weren't there. And that's when it was most cruel and bitter…’The faltering of his voice played the piano tiles of an innocent, tormented concerto that filled the room despite the windy night.

‘But I am here now, Arthur'

‘You are… yes, you are…’

The sweetness of his soft lips deliciously covering your face until reaching your mouth, he'd been right when predicting your fall for him, and what a rhapsodic fall he'd triggered. The silence of his tight embrace said more than you'd ever dared hope for, but a playful hum lingered in his throat as the words murmured indelibly.

Someday when I’m awfully low, when the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight

His husky voice gave you shivery prickles, and a chuckle escaped you remembering the direction of Sinatra's lyrics, what a master of anticipation Arthur had become.

*Knock knock*

Arthur's voice froze in an instant, your heart almost bursting into his palm, he placed a finger over your lips to shush you.

A voice with a British accent apologized for the intrusion and set your mind at ease, but had clearly set Arthur on edge. By his puzzled reaction, he had meant his promise of a vacation and an interruption couldn't be a good omen.

‘Ahhhh shit, Gary! He wouldn't bother unless it was important. Stay here, kitten, I'll be right back. COMING!'

Untangling himself from you proved difficult for both as he kissed your lips one last time while tucking himself back into his pants. You'd covered half your face with the first pillow to stifle your giggles as he stumbled putting his shoes on, seemingly willing to greet Gary with his lower face smudged in a most decadent mixture of you both.

‘Arthur… that suit won't cover the lower half of your face, you know?’

An eyebrow twitch stopped him in his haste to ponder at your hint, the realization of it spreading a most endearing smile of the night onto his face. Your heart coiled at his complicit chuckle of needing to put Joker back on as he'd forgotten him for a second.

Two minutes later he bowed gracefully, his makeup shamefully half applied over the initial mess.

‘Gary's my best man, he's seen worse of me. But what’s a valiant knight to do if not protect his sweet damsel's virtue?’

A wink and a quick peck on the lips, so comfortingly as if you'd known each other for ages, and off he went.

As he will, undoubtedly…

#joker #joker x reader #arthur fleck #Joaquin Phoenix #joker fanfiction #joker fanfic #joker x y/n #joker x you #joker joaquin phoenix #arthur x you #arthur x reader

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter twenty: all the world’s a stage

“Time for the new record!” Scott declared as he rubbed his hands together.

It was the day before the official release date and Sam, Aurora, and Marla all had driven up to the studio in upstate New York to fetch the copies for themselves given it was a Tuesday. The former had her journal rested upon her lap for the entire trip but she had it tucked underneath her arm once they headed inside away from the impending lake effect snow. The end of October and the heart of autumn and yet the forecast called for snow all over most of the upstate area.

Belinda had stayed back down in New York City to tend to organizing the models for Miss Estes: their first one was within a week, and she vowed to give Sam and Marla some insight into their first real big art project for the winter term.

“I'd rather you ladies get a head start on it now,” she explained to them right before they left, “you know, as you're learning the basics of how to make it all look like cohesive drawings.”

And as she said that, she showed Sam a raise of the eyebrows as if she was concerned about her. Even though drawing came to her as if it was second nature, Sam still struggled with shading with graphite. Despite her holding onto the pencil at an angle so as to use the edge of the graphite, the shadows on her sketches always came out too soft and light for it to resemble to the real thing. Whenever Miss Estes or even Marla told her to keep on adding graphite and it would build, it did, but it never got to a point in which it was dark enough. It always seemed odd to her because she could do it with ink and colored pencil as if it was nothing. But she never realized just how much she struggled with graphite until she was shown the very basics there in class.

Thus, Sam rode along in the front seat next to Marla with what she wanted to make for the winter term swimming through her mind. She thought about Joey and what he had asked her back on his birthday, and she wondered if she could convince him to do the same as Cliff for their drawing class. And she kept those thoughts firmly on her mind as they reached the studio and were greeted by the guys themselves.

Joey himself was wrapped up in a dark knit sweater under a long black coat and a knit scarf: his jet black curls were tousled onto one side of his head. Some of the curls sprawled down his shoulder onto the heavy fabric. Even though the room was warm and safe from the harsh New York cold, he still shivered from the feeling. At one moment, he stepped out of the room and he offered to get the three girls a cup of hot chocolate for each of them.

Meanwhile, Frank had on a little pair of dark red gloves and he rubbed his hands together.

“I can't believe we're all about to let you girls have a little taste of our new record,” he remarked once they all congregated in that room together. Dan huddled down next to him with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“It almost feels like we're about to give away the new record,” he confessed to Frank.

“We kinda are, but we trust these girls, though,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, we'll take good care of these,” Aurora vowed to Dan.

“By the way, Sam has something a little special to share with you fellas,” Marla added, and she turned her head in her direction. “If it's not too much trouble.”

“Nah, I've been wanting to just let this happen already,” Sam confessed as she took out the journal from its hiding place under her arm. She had slipped a makeshift bookmark in between the pages to separate those ink drawings from the rest of the pack: that pencil sketch of Joey hung right behind the bookmark and she hoped that none of them would have a look at it.

She sprawled the book open before Frank and Dan to that very first drawing: the latter raised his eyebrows at the sight of that diseased drawing and the former gaped at the very sight of it.

“Wow,” Dan muttered.

“That's—That's—” Frank could hardly speak.

“What?” Sam asked them.

“I just lost my train of my thought,” Frank confessed as he ran his fingers through his hair and showed her an amazed expression. Dan chuckled at him. “Sam, it's so—so—so—”

“You made Frank forget himself for a second, Sam,” Marla told her with a grin on her face.

“These are thirty one drawings to represent all thirty one days in October,” Sam explained as she moved her fingers a little bit to put more emphasis on the drawing. “And they're in dedication of the new record.” She then turned the page to the next one, the inmates in the asylum. Followed by the next one. And the next one. Each time, Frank's eyes widened and his face fixated on what he saw before him. They heard him breathe out the words “oh my god.”

“Have you shown these to your classmates?” he finally choked out at one point.

“I haven't, no,” she admitted. Frank turned his head in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Charlie!” he called out. “Come check this out!”

Dan dropped his gaze a bit to one part of that thirty first drawing: his eyes caressed over the pen strokes. Sam could tell he was getting lost in the whole thing. Charlie strode into the room right then with his hood pulled over the crown of his head: some stray black curls jutted out from underneath the fabric of the hood.

“What's up, Frankie—holy shit,” he blurted out at the sight of the drawing before Dan's face. He turned and nodded at Charlie.

“She made these thirty one drawings for Spreading,” Frank explained to him. “And she did them pretty quickly, too.”

Charlie gaped at that.

“Thirty one drawings for each day in October,” Sam added in a low voice.

“Hasn't showed them to her classmates, either,” Dan told him; she handed Charlie the journal with her finger rested upon the top of the bookmark so he could start there. He gazed on at that first drawing as if he had seen heaven, and Frank and Dan returned to the three of them.

“Would like your copies?” Frank asked them as he shook his head about as if he returned to consciousness.

“Yes, please!” Aurora replied.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Marla retorted, and he and Dan gestured for the three of them to follow them onto the other side of the room. A table was tucked in the corner and Sam spotted a trio of small stacks of vinyl records wrapped up in filmy white paper sleeves right in the middle. Even from across the room, she could see the words “Spreading the Disease” scrawled on the outside of the paper in big black lettering.

“Sam, Aurora, and Marla,” Frank pointed to each of the stacks. “Those top ones are for each of you respectively.”

Aurora and Marla lunged to the table first, while Sam lingered back a bit to let them have at it. Dan turned to her with his hands still tucked in his jeans pockets.

“These are the very first pressings,” he explained with a little twinkle in his eye. “The very first.”

“So I'll protect it with my life,” she vowed to him. Aurora held her copy close to her chest as if it was about to get away from her, and that was Sam's cue at that moment. She then picked the one on top of the stack on the far left. The paper was smooth like tissue: she could feel the hard vinyl on the inside there. She held it before her as if she was about to behold it to the masses.

Dan turned his head to her and showed her a little smile.

“I just realized that we haven't really gotten to know each other that much,” she confessed to him.

“Me, too,” he replied. “I got a girlfriend, though.”

“We can still hang out from time to time,” she pointed out as she thought about Cliff and the yellow tulips he had given her.

“True!” Dan gave his feathery hair a slight toss back. “Maybe we can hang out over Thanksgiving or something, or whenever you have time off from school.”

“Can get like a bite of lunch or something with these two girls.” Sam then glimpsed down at the record in her hands. “I don't have a record player, either.”

“I do! Maybe when we hang out, I'll take you home and you can play it out there.”

“Sounds like a plan!” she declared as she held the record close to her chest.

She turned around and she noticed Charlie had taken a seat in the far corner of the room with the journal sprawled open across his lap. He lingered over the journal pages and he kept his fingers upon the pen strokes there on the paper.

“I think you opened Pandora's box,” Dan told her. “I don't think I've ever seen Charlie that enthralled by anything before.”

“It's going to be hell to pry it out of his hands,” Sam answered.

“Nah,” Dan assured her with a shake of his head, “it looks like he's near the end of it.”

Aurora burst out laughing at something that Marla had said, and Sam and Dan strode on over to Charlie, who lifted his attention from the pages.

“I'm in love,” he said to her. “I'm madly in love with this.”

Sam shrugged her shoulders and her mind fell blank at the sound of that. She moved the vinyl closer to her upper left arm.

“You don't mind if I show this to Scott and Joey?” he asked her.

“You might as well,” she answered with another shrug of her shoulders. “They're for you guys and in the honor of the new album.”

Without another word, Charlie stood to his feet and he made his way into the next room for Scott and Joey themselves. Sam then turned her attention to Dan.

“So we can't play the record here but we can hang out for a moment, though,” she told him. “What's the band you used to play in again?”

“Overkill.”

“Overkill, that was it!”

“We did covers at gigs, mostly Motorhead and Judas Priest covers at first, all over New Jersey—the band name came from Motorhead's song 'Overkill' in fact. But then the opportunity with them came up about as quick as the opportunity with Overkill came up, too. I wound up with them and ever since then, I've been teaching myself to make things like amps and pedals.”

“And how is that going?” Sam thought about Belinda and her love of the more kinesthetic art.

“It's going quite well,” he replied. “I just like working with my hands is all.”

“Don't we all?” “That's all art is, isn't it? Working with your hands and being creative?”

“Absolutely.”

Scott and Joey's chatter floated into the room right then. The idea of standing there with these five men with their eyes fixated on those thirty one drawings made her squirm in her shoes. Even though her parents were supportive of her artistry, she hadn't really given them much insight into her art up to that point. It was all in a world of its own and she never really understood as to why that was the case. Charlie soon returned to them with her journal cradled in both of his hands.

“I'm utterly speechless,” he admitted to her, “Scott is, too.”

“What did Joey think?” Sam asked him as she squirmed a little bit in her shoes.

“He was going crazy about it. Like, 'holy shit, this is the best art I've ever seen!' The three of us came to the conclusion that we want you to make prints of them.” “I wouldn't know the first thing about that, though,” she confessed as he handed the journal back to her.

“It's complicated but easy at the same time. I'll show you, though.”

“Will you?”

“Promise.” Charlie stuck out his pinky finger for her, and she hooked her own around it. “And I see you and Danny have been hanging out for a little bit, too.”

“I don't have a record player so he promised to bring me back to his place to play it,” she explained as she set the record on top of her journal and then tucked them under her arm.

“We're shootin' for Thanksgiving,” he answered, and he flashed Sam a wink.

Within time, the three girls thanked them and Charlie offered to take them home given the sky was heavy with snow. But Marla assured him that they could drive on back to the Bronx in one piece. Sam shivered and pulled the hood over her head with one hand. She thought about Charlie's promise and she squirmed even more in her seat. She hadn't gotten this amount of attention to her art before, and she hadn't been nudged like this before, either.

She gazed out the window at the ominous gray sky overhead and then to the lush forest on either side of the highway. Then she remembered Joey hadn't talked to her about posing for her, and she hoped she could do it by the time the green signs for the Bronx appeared on the right side of the road.

Marla switched on the heater once the first drops of cold rain fell onto the roof.

“By the way, Charlie told me to store the vinyls like books on shelves,” she told Sam and Aurora.

“That's what I've heard, too,” said the latter from the back seat.

“I'll nestle this in between my textbooks if I have to,” Sam chimed in.

“Might as well!” Marla exclaimed as the lanes widened into four. “If any of us get any more pieces of vinyl, we should set aside shelves for them.”

“Like, the top shelf could be the considered the vinyl shelf or something,” Aurora followed along. Sam gazed out the window again and she had a feeling that it was in fact the mere beginning of a big vinyl collection, not just for her but for the three of them.

Soon, they rolled into the Bronx and Aurora told Marla over and over again she was willing on the subway for the ride home.

“I wanna take you home, though,” Marla insisted as Sam stepped out of earshot with her journal and the copy of Spreading the Disease both tucked under her arm. She strode into the front of her apartment building when she spotted Cliff seated at the base of the stairs. She closed the front door and the blast of warm furnace air washed over her.

“Hey,” she said as she showed him a smile.

“Hi,” he replied to her as he set his hands on either side of him: she caught a flash of silver on his right hand all the while. He stood to his feet and his smooth long hair sprawled over his shoulders. He brought his hands to his coat collar. He had put on a silver ring in the shape of a skull on his right ring finger.

“Where'd you get that?” she asked him.

“What this?” He held out his hand for her to better see it.

“This was actually something I found,” he replied. “I figured that—you know, since—” He turned his head towards Emile's apartment. “—since you and I are in a relationship now,” he lowered his voice to a near whisper.

“Right, right. Guess I should find something for myself now.”

“If you want,” he said with a shrug, “this was just something I found and did on the spur of the moment.”

“Would you like to come upstairs and have some hot cocoa?” she offered him.

“Yes, please.”

Cliff followed her back to her place, and she set the vinyl and the journal on the coffee table once she stepped inside first.

“Is that their new record?” he asked her as he shut the door behind him.

“Yes, sir-ee,” she said, and she started to wonder if she even had some hot chocolate in her cupboard. He stripped off his coat and hung it up on the hook next to the door. She spotted a skull shaped tattoo on his upper arm.

“That's new,” she remarked; he held out his arm.

“That's 'cause it is!”

Cliff took his seat on the couch under the view into the kitchen. Every so often, as she put on the little red kettle and poured in some of the cocoa into two clean mugs, she caught a glimpse of either the crown of his head or his eyebrows and those eyes.

“You look like you wanna tell me something,” she declared as she doubled back into the living room so as to let the water boil.

“So it turns out, I won't be posing for your drawing class until your finals week,” he told her.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. You know, just the whole thing with the schedule conflicts, between us and a couple of other models who've gotten slots before me.”

“Oh, yeah, Bel was talking about that the other day. There's a whole bunch of things going on with the art classes, especially the lower level ones like the ones we're in right now.”

“I should also tell you that we've finished recording our new record.” He gestured down to the vinyl on the coffee table.

“When should we expect the new Metall-icka record?” she asked him.

“Some time in March,” he answered with a chuckle at that. “It has to undergo mastering and mixing now, and then it's submitted in time for a deadline so it can be released in March.”

“Exactly like them,” she followed along.

“Do you know if they're going on tour at all?” he asked her.

“I don't. Aurora probably does, but not me, though. I’ll have to ask her when I see her again. What about you guys?”

“March. This spring is gonna be pretty eventual for us.”

The first whistles from the kettle caught Sam's attention and she ducked back into the kitchen. She poured the hot water over the cups of cocoa, and she returned to him with the mugs in hand.

“I'm sorry I don't have those tiny marshmallows,” she admitted.

“It's okay—besides, I like a little spice in my hot chocolate,” he told her.

“Spice? Like—spicy?”

“Yeah. A couple of spices, like nutmeg and cinnamon, and with some whipped cream on top.”

“Oh! So like Mexican hot chocolate.”

“Exactly! But I won't turn down free cocoa, though.”

He blew on the surface of the hot chocolate first and then he took a sip. He nodded his head at that, and then she took a sip herself.

“You ought to come along with us,” he suggested.

“What, on tour?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it is in March so I'd have to take time off from school, though,” she pointed out.

“And?”

“And? That’s a lot to ask for, though. I worked too hard to claim my place over here to the East Coast, though, Cliff. I can't give that up and I don’t really want to, either. I’d have to tell my parents about it, too...”

“It wouldn't be giving it up, though,” he assured her. “It's just getting to a couple of shows if and when you can. We're gonna be all over New York and Pennsylvania in April, literally right after the tour starts. Like we go to the Midwest on the twenty seventh of March, when the tour starts and we start coming to the Northeast not even two weeks after that. We hang out around here for almost three weeks and then we start going south and out west.”

“Going all over the place,” said Sam as she brought the mug of hot cocoa to her lips but she didn't take a sip. “All the world's a stage.”

“Literally! Although—” He hesitated and he lowered his gaze to the floor.

“What?”

“You heard this from me,” he said in a low voice even though they were alone in her apartment. “There are two things that I have been wanting to say to someone, and since you and I are together, I can finally say this.”

“What is it?”

“Well, the first thing is—Lars and I haven't been getting together as much. I dunno what it is, either. But he and I haven't been as friendly to one another lately.”

“Like you're kind of drifting apart?” she followed along.

“Yes—yeah! That's exactly what it is! He and I are drifting away from each other.”

“Why is that?” she asked him, to which he shook his head.

“I don't really know. I'm guessing it all started when we embarked on the new record and Lars was doing most of the talking to the press, and no one was really talking to me or James as much. It's gotten a little lopsided lately, with Lars being the wordsmith and the three of us being the ones who put our horns down and do it all at once. It's more so the case with me, though. No one really talks to me much now.”

“What's the other thing?”

“I think we're gonna fire Lars,” he confessed. “Well, I should say James and Kirk are plotting it. I'm not sure how I feel about it.”

“Have you tried to talk to them?” she asked him.

“Not really. I don't really know how to do it, though.”

“Have you told Dave about it?” she asked as she thought back to him and how he was fired on impulse.

“I'm thinking about it,” he said with a point of his finger. “Maybe he can help.”

“Yeah, maybe he can!” she replied, excited.

“He is a good friend, too. My good friend despite his being out on the job himself.”

He took another sip from his mug and that time he closed his eyes. She took another sip for herself.

“I dunno if Legacy are gonna be with us, though,” he confessed. “It's gonna be a tour with another band but I'm not sure yet. Jonny's supposed to tell us like—any day now, he should tell us about it. I hope it's them, but at the same time—you know, with Alex being in school and whatnot. You guys being in school matters the most.”

Sam turned her head and showed him a smile at that.

“So you want us to stay in school but you also want us to attend the shows, though,” she followed along with a knitting of her eyebrows.

“Exactly! But we also want you guys to do better than us.” He lowered his gaze to the journal on the coffee table.

“I haven't showed you these drawings, have I,” she said in a soft voice. “Thirty one ink drawings in honor of that new album as well as the month of October.”

“Ink, like black ink?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect for Halloween.”

Sam then gasped at that.

“Happy Halloween, Cliff,” she proclaimed as she brought her mug closer to him, and he returned the favor.

“Happy Halloween, Sam I am,” he echoed and they clinked their mugs together. They took a drink in unison, and then she brought her attention to the journal. Cliff opened to a page past the bookmark and he clasped a hand to his chest.

“All the world's a stage, Sam,” he recalled, and then his face lit up. “I have an idea.”

“What's that?”

“Do you mind if—when we go on tour, and you're not able to make it, I take this journal with me to keep me company?”

She was stunned by that, such that she didn't know how to reply to it.

“It sounds weird, sure. But—the road gets kind of isolated after a while.”

“Take the journal so it seems like I'm there with you,” she followed along.

“Exactly. I'll also share it to everyone I can, too. Make sure you get seen in other pockets of the country. Do what our friends did for us with our demo tape to get us signed.”

Sam showed him a little warm smile and then she leaned in closer to his face. She brushed her lips against his and he sighed through his nose at the feeling. He tasted like chocolate. Perfect.

“By the way, I quit smoking,” he told her in a low voice, to which she gasped and gave him a second, more eager kiss on the lips.

“What say the two of us have some pumpkin pie in a bit?” she offered him.

“Sounds good by me!” And they gave each other another toast of the mugs.

#chapter 20 #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #metallica fanfic #anthrax #metallica #frank bello #charlie benante #dan spitz #cliff burton #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #deadly nightshade #book two #writing #also on ao3 #text

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #8- I’m Sorry, the Domain Name thebomb.com is Already in Use

It’s been a hot minute since we last got to focus on the Scavengers- ah, the chaotic nature of comic print schedules! Luckily, we’ve got a Story So Far to remind us where we left off.

Our issue starts 10,000 years in the past, where Fulcrum is riding in a plane and preparing to drop with his fellow K-Cons. It’s crowded, there’s a guy crying in the corner, everyone’s wearing the same outfit, and no one’s got time to go home and change. How embarrassing!

Torque’s never heard of personal space, as is made apparent by his power-stance pelvic thrusting here. Fulcrum is less than impressed by this show of bravado, but there’s no time to dwell on it because it’s time to jump the glory of Megatron.

At least one of them is having a good time.

In the present day, the Scavengers are freaking the hell out, because as it turns out, it’s THEM who’re afraid of the DJD.

Krok keeps trying to reach his old squad, as if anything short of Megatron himself would be able to save them from the horrible death coming their way, while Flywheels grapples with his faith and inferiority complex at the same time.

Spinister brings up a decent point, despite Misfire’s earlier claim that he’s the stupidest creature in the universe- Misfire is kind of an asshole, so anything he says involving just about anything should be taken with a grain of salt- but the problem is, nobody in their right mind would incriminate themselves to the DJD if they could help it. Also, everyone knows that Tarn’s got his head way too far up his own ass to have any sort of rhyme or reason for anything he does beyond the 𝕒𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕔.

Krok leans on his career as a military strategist to come up with a few ideas, and the boys decide to fight the DJD, after so much bitching and moaning.

But the DJD… the Decepticon Justice Division… are also Decepticons. Crankcase, are you gatekeeping here, my dude? Because I don’t think this is an internet debate you’re going to win.

The fellas decide that they’ll do what they do best, and use what’s been laying around in the dust and blood for thousands of years to fight off some of the scariest folks in the galaxy. What could possibly go wrong?

Over on the Lost Light, Chromedome and Skids are having a secret rendezvous at the oil reservoir, in secret and behind Rewind’s back, as Chromedome proceeds to call Skids handsome. No, they aren’t having a secret love affair, but are instead going to mnemosurgery the shit out of Skids. Rewind doesn’t like that Chromedome is still doing this, but what Rewind doesn’t know won’t hurt him, surely. We’ll find out just why exactly Rewind isn’t a fan of Chromedome’s line of work later on, but for now it’s time to dig around in a hot guy’s brain.

Just kidding, it’s Scavenger time.

The Scavengers have set up a trap for the DJD, and that trap is Grimlock; still locked in his stasis pod, they’re pulling a “rigged box and stick with a piece of cheese inside” maneuver. Let’s see how this plays out.

Hmm. That’s not a great start.

The Peaceful Tyranny lands, Tarn transforms, comes down the gangplank, transforms, waxes poetic about the brilliance of the Decepticon copy writers, transforms, drives 15 feet, transforms, then, after clearly stating that the big stasis pod in the middle of nowhere is a trap, opens it anyway.

Never has a nut-punch been more deserved than in this exact moment.

Grimlock has a strong start, but almost immediately begins to flag, as he’s put down by Tesaurus. This is why we do warmups prior to rigorous exercise, people!

Misfire tries to sneak off while Tarn’s distracted whispering into Grimlock’s ear like one would a lover, but that doesn’t really work out.

Back over on the Lost Light, Chromedome’s having a time and a half trying to parse just what the hell’s going on with Skid’s head. All his memories from the last year aren’t lost, but rather destroyed, which is concerning to say the least, only leaving a need to escape. There’s also some nasty beast in Skid’s more distant past that Chromedome can see. However, it would seem that Skid’s brain took the out when it saw one and buried that nightmare so deep it’ll take multiple sticks of dynamite to wiggle it loose, so Chromedome’s leaving it where it is.

What this tells me is that Rung has no business referring patients to Chromedome for treatment, if this is how we’re meant to handle repressed memories. Remember back in issue #6, when Fort Max claimed he didn’t remember what happened in Garrus 9, and Rung was all “oh let me just call my guy Chromedome and have him stir your brain around like a martini”? Turns out, either that’s a terrible idea and Rung hasn’t paid attention to the work that half his coworkers on Kimia were involved with, or he was making an empty threat, which doesn’t seem like great practice for a therapist.

Pretty fucked up of you, Rung.

Anyways, Skids is less than thrilled by this, and demands Chromedome do it anyway, which Chromedome promptly refuses. He’ll play around with his own life, but not his friends’. Skids walks off in a huff, because I guess no one’s ever refused his pretty ass anything before, but asks a question before he leaves.

Well, I’m sure that won’t be a major plot point later on.

Let’s check back in with the Scavengers.

Between Tesaurus’ line here, Tarn harassing Grimlock, and Skids’ asking Chromedome why he pulled out during their secret meeting, this is probably the most sexually-charged issue of MTMTE so far.

Flywheels’ only purpose as a character was so that Roberts had a stand-in for the word “fuck” last issue. Sorry, dude, you’ve done your job. Off to the shredder with you!

No time to worry about him, Krok, because it’s time for your face mask treatment at the universe’s shittiest spa.

The worst part about this is the fact that he’s being held a full nelson by the DJD’s record-keeper, who turns into a fucking chair and doesn’t even have eyes. Oh, the indignity of it all.

Misfire tries to save Krok, but all he manages to do is prove that his nickname isn’t ironic in the slightest. Then he’s attacked by a dog.

That shadow being tossed towards the horizon in the background is Crankcase, who lands right about where Fulcrum’s been hiding this entire time, like the giant coward he is, as he watches these guys who tried to steal his organs get murdered to death. He runs off, and Crankcase plays to stereotype and gripes about the whole situation, until he notices something above him.

Then he immediately drops dead, because as it turns out Misfire wasn’t exaggerating when he said Crankcase would die if he ever even thought about smiling.

Over in Tarn’s soliloquy corner, he’s managed to stab his thumb so hard into Grimlock’s throat it’s literally bleeding, as he trash talks the Scavengers, calling them the “six biggest failures of all”. Harsh. Grimlock’s not contributing to the diatribe, probably because there’s a hole in his throat that’s about where a trach would go.

Then Tarn has a bit of a problem, as he’s stepped on by a robot that’s roughly twenty times bigger than him.

I guess Crankcase must be the sixth worst Decepticon, because he’s gotten himself hooked up with this massive Jaeger Cybernought, one of the many that are strapped to the back of the Worldsweeper they found last issue. It’s a big friggin’ ship, we can forgive the oversight.

The DJD aren’t impressed by this new toy, and almost immediately take it down. Tarn, really starting to get peeved off about not getting to what they actually came here to do, yells for Fulcrum to show himself. Fulcrum, as it turns out, has managed to climb on top of the Worldsweeper, and is at least a few hundred feet above them. Because none of the DJD can fly, they have no choice but to listen to Fulcrum’s little speech.

Fulcrum was forged at the height of the Decepticon Empire, when the rhetoric was more “space eugenics sucks” and less “murder everything while Megatron has weird sexual tension with Optimus in the background”. Of course, they were still hunting organic species to flex, so maybe things weren’t perfect… though it isn’t like Fulcrum minded that aspect. Dude’s a little space racist.

Spacist.

The way Fulcrum sees it, folks like Tarn went and fucked up a good thing by being all murderous and violent just because they could, unlike his good pals the Scavengers, who are only murderous and violent when it’s necessary. “Necessary” is a word that’s played with kind of fast and loose with them, mind you, but they seem like pretty swell guys to Fulcrum. They’re definitely better than the DJD.

With one last “fuck you” to Tarn, Fulcrum takes a running leap off the top of this astonishingly huge ship and finally reveals just why exactly K-Cons aren’t known for doing fear.

Because who the fuck has ever asked a bomb how it’s feeling?

Everyone clears the area, as he hits the ground… and nothing happens. Fulcrum is marked off the List, the Scavengers are added, and the DJD fuck off without checking that their target is actually dead so they can go find Overlord and kick his ass.

Fulcrum’s fine, by the way.

This is why we check our work, Tarn.

Fulcrum, who is, again, a bomb, is a bit curious as to what’s happened here. Turns out, prior to the boys riffling through his torso for spare parts, Spinister- master surgeon Spinister- removed the explosive charge tucked up against his robot liver. Fulcrum is amazed by this news, because it’s apparently a super hard thing to do.

Are we sure that Spinister isn’t just super nearsighted? The world’s been described as a series of vaguely hostile shapes, is he playing it safe and attacking the things he can’t figure out within a few seconds? Maybe all that hand-staring he does is to gauge how shitty his vision is on a day to day basis, and everyone just assigned him Stupid At Birth because trying to understand our friends is for losers.

Then again, we should also remember that everyone in the Scavengers is so incredibly stupid, they couldn’t figure out between the five of them that Fulcrum had been alive while it was happening. Spinister probably wasn’t gentle with that procedure since he thought he was working with a corpse; for all we know, Fulcrum’s got his sparkcase inside-out now.

Crankcase carries poor, faceless Krok over, and Fulcrum laments on the fact that Krok’s squad never turned up. Crankcase implies something ominous about Krok’s method of communication with his old squadron, then we get the skinny on Fulcrum’s whole deal.

Yes, yes, I know B’lahr 39 is a reference to Wizard of Oz actor Bert Lahr, who played the Cowardly Lion. I caught that one before I’d even checked TFWiki for interesting notes on this issue. I was a film major in college, I’m legally required to know every single bit of trivia about the Wizard of Oz. It’s the second thing they beat into you, right after watching Citizen Kane for the 87th time.

Also, how many nerds are going to be in this series? Fulcrum’s a technician, Krok’s a strategist, Spinister and 3/4 of the Lost Light are doctors in some form or fashion, Tarn’s a friggin drama kid, the list goes on.

When Fulcrum was caught, the original plan was to have him tortured and killed at Styx, a Decepticon penal colony, when plans changed and he got reformatted along with everyone else in the joint to be a suicide bomber.

If Fulcrum seems like a bit of a generic name for a giant space robot, it’s probably because it is. Fulcrum’s original alt-mode wasn’t a bomb- in fact, I have no idea what it’s meant to be. Word of God makes the claim that he turned into a leg prior to getting K-classed, but since Combiner teams have to be made in this continuity, that’s not what he came into being as. He’s got a tiddy window like Rung- something that will be more apparent when Josh Burcham is replaced by Joana Lafluente as the primary colorist for the comic run- but that seems more indicative of having minimal armor than any sort of alt.

Anyway, there’s something in the reformat to K-Con that compels one to switch to bomb mode when you jump ship- but it didn’t happen for Fulcrum, because he was so unbelievably terrified that he might have actually defied biology.

The others have stopped listening by this point, and have joined Spinister in poking the still-prone Grimlock with a stick. Misfire, in the first show of something like empathy we’ve really gotten from him, asks the fellas to help the poor guy up.

Sure, make the guy who’s a stiff breeze away from cracking in half lift the biggest motherfucker on this planet. Sounds like a plan.

Misfire does his damnedest to communicate to Grimlock that they come in peace.

Behold, the price of nostalgia!

This isn’t exactly where we left Grimlock last time he was in an IDW publishing. The last guy to have his hands on everyone’s favorite dinobot was Simon Furman, and he was a lot more well-spoken there. It would seem that no one got out of Garrus 9 unscathed.

This development is a bit of a problem for the Scavengers, who now aren’t quite sure what to do with a infamous warrior-bastard who’s mentally regressed to the point that he’s got to think about what his own name is. To be fair, most people wouldn’t know what to do in that sort of situation. Doesn’t help that the guy who usually has the braincell is currently passed out from face-based puncture trauma.

Misfire decides that they’ll take Grimlock along with them for collateral, and everyone is so impressed by him actually planning something out, they forget to think about the logistics of housing a whole entire T-Rex.

The guys, I guess just leaving Grimlock and the unconscious Krok in the dirt, go to find what’s left of Flywheels- basically the hips down is still intact. After a few kind words, the final rites are performed.

You will be missed, Flywheels, clearly.

You never see the Autobots resorting to cannibalism like this. Maybe they’re just better at making it not look like a vulture swarm.

Many, many months later, long after the Scavengers have left the planet of Clemency, a lone figure visits what’s left of dear Flywheels- it’s the Necrobot. That’s right, the Robo-Reaper is real, and it looks like he’s been busy.

…Spoilers, Necrobot! Come on!

After the story proper, we get a Meet the ‘Cons page. Let’s take a gander, shall we?

No.

NO.

NO!

I draw the line at this motherfucking sniper rifle having a college degree. What possible scientific field of study could he possibly-

It’s ballistics. He studied ballistics, didn’t he?

You know what? Fuck this, actually. See y’all later.

…Fuck you, Vos.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 8 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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latestageyouth · 5 years

Text

When you walk away (Nothing more to say)

chapter 5 - the inbetween lunch and dinner club

trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, detention, underage smoking, slight unsympathetic Patton, swearing, one mention of killing someone, a character stabbed another one in a hand with a pencil in the past (let me know if I missed something)

summary: Detention time, fellas

author’s note: hahaha i fricking hate this chapter what was i thinking?

"What do you mean you have detention?!" Avery shouted into the phone.

Damon rolled his eyes, already frustrated enough from school and Logan but not enough to raise his voice, "I mean I have detention. Like, for the whole week. Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Damon Horace Barnes, if you ever pull a stunt like that again-"

"I get it, I get it, I told you I'm sorry..." Damon glanced at the clock, "Look, I, uh, I have to go, I'll be late."

Avery sighed, "Fine...I love you though, you know that?"

Damon smiled softly, "Yes, A, I do know that. Bye,"

"Take care, you dumbass," Avery hung up. Damon put the phone back into his vest pocket and walked to the library, where detention was usually held. Thankfully, Ms. Watson wasn't there yet. Everyone's eyes stared at him as he entered, and he noticed some familiar faces, like Jenna or Remus, even Tyler was there, just the usual. He went to sit with Remus as he always did when he had detention, as Remus was almost always there. Remus threw an arm over his shoulder before he even sat down.

Damon looked him up and down, "So what was it this time?"

"Ah, you know, put a dead rat in Ty's locker."

"...I am not surprised. Did you even wash your hands after that?" He suspiciously eyed the hand thrown over his shoulder.

"No, why?" At these words, Damon slapped the hand away, rolling his eyes when Remus laughed.

"Disgusting, why am I friends with you?" Damon swept his shoulder. Remus leaned on him and put a head on his other shoulder.

"Aww, come on, Dee, you know you love me!"

Damon stared at him for a few seconds, before turning around to face Jenna and Tyler, an over-exaggerated smile on his face, "So, what are you two here for?"

"I stabbed him with a pencil, like, a few days ago," Jenna pointed at her twin's hand, which Damon noticed was bandaged.

"I cut her hair off with scissors, " Tyler gestured vaguely at Jenna, her pastel blue hair no longer being in their regular braids, it was too short to be even if Jenna tried.

"Before or after?"

"During," they said in unison. Before Damon could ask anything else, Ms. Watson walked in, making everyone stop whatever they were doing and look at her. She looked over all the tables, squinting her eyes.

"The usual, I see," She looked at the names list on the paper, then back at the bunch, "Where is-"

The door opened once more, revealing someone they never thought would get detention. Damon groaned and slammed his head on the table.

"Care to join us, Mr. Marley?" Ms. Watson spat bitterly.

Patton giggled nervously, "So sorry, Ms. I lost track of the time," he went to take a seat in the left front row.

Ms. Watson gave him a scowl, "I'll let you pass since it's your first. Now," she turned to the rest, "I am sure you know what you're here for, but I don't, so how about you write it down for me?" she put a stack of lined papers in front of Patton, "Pass it around. I have papers to grade, also very precise hearing, so shut the hell up and do your work, ya punks," she walked out of the library and left the door open.

"How is she still a teacher?" Jenna squinted her eyes and passed around the papers, taking one for herself.

Damon took the last two papers and passed one to Remus, "Are we actually gonna do this?"

Remus looked at him and shrugged, "Hmm, meh. Instead," he leaned in closer, just as Jenna and Tyler took their chairs and put them to their table, "How about we talk about the fact that Mister Pure Puffball is here? In detention? What the fuck did he do get detention?"

Tyler snorted, "Bet he forgot to do homework or some shit like that."

Jenna leaned on her elbow, "Or maybe...something more?" she smirked smugly. They all looked at Patton, who was writing with a blue pen with hearts on it, "We need to get that paper."

Damon huffed, "So what, we just walk up to him and take it?"

"Why not?"

"Because, Remus!" Jenna looked at the man in question, "He will tell the old hag, he's a teacher's pet."

Damon chuckled, "I mean, where's the lie, but exactly, he's a teacher's pet, what would a suck up like him do to get detention?"

Remus furrowed his eyebrows slightly, "I can think of a few things..." Damon looked at him, silent for a few seconds, before shanking it off. Remus groaned, "Screw this, everything is boring, I'm texting V," he pulled out his phone, paying no attention to the people around. Jenna and Tyler squinted their eyes at the action.

"...Right, so, I suggest we just wait for him to leave and take it, it's easy like that."

Jenna rolled her eyes, "And where do you think he will go, you idiot?"

Tyler looked back at her, "I dunno, to a bathroom, to the teach..." he waved his hand around. Damon leaned into the hand supporting his head.

"Bold of you to assume Watson will let him leave the room."

"I mean, he's a bootlicker, he'll get what he wants."

Damon raised his eyebrows, but couldn't help but nod. Jenna leaned in her chair, staring at the ceiling lights, silent as well. Meanwhile, Tyler went on and talked to someone in front of him that Damon didn't recognize. After a few minutes, Damon was so overcome with boredom the only thing he could do is reach into his bag and pull out a cigarette pack along with his yellow lighter. It didn't attract much attention until Remus noticed him.

"Yo, sharing is caring," he held out his hand. Damon rolled his eyes and gave Remus a cigarette. Remus already had a lighter himself.

Jenna coughed loudly to get Damon's attention, batting her lashes at him in an innocent manner.

"I am not giving you one," he said, but despite that, Jenna took one herself and thanked him anyway. He held up the lighter to the cigarette in Jenna's mouth, then lit his own.

"You can't smoke, let alone in school! What if the teacher sees you!"

The three looked at the one who dared to speak, meeting eye to eye with Patton. Remus snorted, "Like you aren't gonna tell her anyway."

Patton gripped his pen tighter, "I wouldn't tell her if you put it out now," he put on a smile that Damon and Remus could tell was obviously fake. Damon swore he heard someone whisper to get the popcorn and another snicker in return, but he paid it no mind, instead, he inhaled the smoke, before walking a few steps from his table and blowing it in Patton's face. Jenna giggled. Patton stood up, making Damon take a step back before remembering they had an audience, "That's it, I am telling Ms. Watson."

Everyone in the library silently watched as Patton made his way through the door, before exploding into muffled giggles and snickering that only increased when they heard the distant yelling of Ms. Watson. Then they heard heavy footsteps. The three immediately hid their cigarettes, Damon stepping on it while Remus and Jenna threw it out the window. Ms. Watson came as soon as they did. She looked over the kids, looking as innocent as a group of kids in detention could.

She turned back to Patton, "Now, I ain't seein' any smokes here, Marley, don't bother me with nonsense," she began walking back to her office.

"But Ms!" he turned to look at the three and rolled his eyes, "Whatever, at least you stopped smoking."

"Who said we stopped?" said Damon, already pulling out another three cigarettes, a smirk forming on his face as Patton groaned.

Tyler turned to look at Damon, Jenna and Remus, "So while you were all busy ruining your lungs, I goooot..." he browsed his phone, then turned it to face the three, "this."

Remus raised an eyebrow, "Expected," he whined, "He was always too chickenshit to do anything."

There, on the phone, was a photo of Patton's paper, which simply read: "I forgot my homework all week."

Jenna groaned, "Honestly, fellas, what did we even expect?" never bothered to answer the rhetorical question, "So, what now? Do we just, like, write the stuff?"

"How about we just skip the rest of the detention? I mean, surely Sanders doesn't have the guts to suspend us."

Remus shook his head sadly, "Can't, I promised Virgil I'll hang out with him this weekend and if I skip I'll have weekend detention."

"Who's Virgil?" Tyler asked and gave Remus a puzzled look, "Is he your boyfriend or something?"

And Remus didn't know whether he should've burst into laughter or blush like hell, using all his will to look unfazed by the question, "Nah, he's my homeslice," he smirked when the other three cringed at the word, "A new kid, so you won't know him."

"Yeah, got here, like, just a few weeks ago."

"In the middle of the school year? Don't you think that's really fucking shady?" Jenna butted her cigarette on the table.

"I mean," Damon looked at the spot at the table in front of him, "We don't really know why he transferred, something to do with his mom..."

"I bet she killed his dad or something."

The three other stared at Remus, unimpressed.

"What? He never wants to talk about him!" Remus tried to defend himself.

"Whatever," said Tyler and took his bag off of his chair, standing up, "I am ditching, you comin'?"

"Nah," said Damon. Jenna stood up and went along with Tyler, leaving the two behind.

Remus turned to face Damon, "And why didn't you leave me?"

Damon shrugged, "I actually think Sanders does have guts to suspend them."

Remus cooed, putting his head on the other's shoulder, "Aww, c'mon big guy, just admit that you care about me," he poked Damon's cheek. Damon huffed and rolled his eyes, but that didn't seem to throw Remus off, "C'moooon, admit it!" he said in a sing-songy tone too sweet to be coming out of his mouth.

"I absolutely do not," Damon looked at him.

Remus hugged him from the side, "I love you too, snake."

#when you walk away (nothing more to say)#sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #unsympathetic patton #but not really hes just annoying #deceit sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders mention #slow burn #analodemus #dukeceit #demus

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loveforpreserumsteve · 5 years

Text

Summer In Your Eyes (Lifeguard!Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Modern Summer AU)

Forty-One:

Just like Steve claimed, Clint bought fireworks. Clint bought a shit ton of fireworks. So many in fact, that each of them helped Clint unload them from his mom's black 2016 Dodge minivan. Arm fulls, to be more specific.

Gleefully, Steve glanced over his shoulder and said, "Clint, you've really outdone yourself."

"Just imagine how much you'll get for your next birthday," Clint teased.

The four carried their haul into the Rogers' garage, and Bucky was positive that they'd get in trouble for having that many items. It was inevitable. He just hoped that no one would get hurt. And that they wouldn't accidentally burn someone's house down.

"Teve, Teve," Conner called out, his tiny footsteps echoing in the hallway.

"In here, pal," Steve called, placing his hands on his hips as he looked over all the explosives in wonderment.

A nearly naked Conner in nothing but a diaper, stood in the doorway. He had a yellow wiffle ball bat in hand as he announced, "Teve, Nat's here."

"Okay. Thanks, pal," Steve smirked. Heading over to the doorway, Steve lifted Conner into his arms and left the garage.

Since Steve left, so did the other three boys. Bucky expected to see Natasha in the hallway, waiting for them. But she wasn't. Steve must have been confused too because he asked Conner, "Where is she?"

"Kit-ten," Conner answered, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen.

As Steve went to carry Conner up the short staircase to the main level of the house, Natasha started climbing down it. Pausing on the second step from the top while Steve stopped on the second from the bottom. Immediately, Steve started backtracking; trying not to fall or trip over the other boys.

At the top, Natasha quirked a brow and smirked at the scene of the tall teens trying to move out of the way while also glancing up at her. Natasha greeted the teens, "Fellas."

"Nat," Steve greeted, all the while Conner started repeating, "Fay-yahs."

Grabbing some white chocolate covered trail mix from the blue solo cup in her hand, Natasha said, "You know that Alana is busting her ass in the kitchen for you, right?"

Steve glanced around Natasha as though he could see into the kitchen. Of course, he couldn't. Turning his gaze to Conner, Steve sighed and smiled at the toddler, "Looks like you're hanging out with us, pal."

"Yay!" Conner exclaimed, cheerily clapping his hands.

Almost completely oblivious to the fact that he was still holding on to the yellow wiffle ball bat. The other boys weren't as oblivious though, and attempted to lean away from the bat as it swung around like crazy in the toddler's chubby hands. Natasha was the one who finally stepped up and took the bat from Conner's grasp.

Playfully, she rolled her eyes and teased, "How do any of you even survive without me?"

"I'm starting to wonder the same thing," Sam voiced, sending Nat a flirtatious wink.

Narrowing her eyes, Natasha observed Sam before pointing the bat at him and announcing, "The new boy's my new favorite."

"Rude," Bucky half-mocked.

"You know what?" Clint questioned. Natasha glanced over at him and her smirk grew when Clint continued, "Same. Sam's the best. Let's just get that out of the way."

"Sam's the best," Natasha agreed with a small it-is-what-it-is shrug.

"That's cool," Steve stated, feigning offense as he continued, "It's not like it's my birthday or anything. Nope. It's totally fine that I'm no one's favorite."

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and knocked his shoulder against Steve's. All the while, Conner reassured, "You're my fav-rit, Teve."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned, bringing his face close to Conner's and momentarily resting his forehead against the toddler's. Effectively causing Bucky to turn to goo at the sheer adorableness.

"Uh oh, Buck," Sam teased, playfully elbowing Bucky's side.

Bucky turned to look at the boy beside him, and just when Sam was about to tease him some more, Natasha jumped in with, "Looks like you have some competition."

Eyes going wide, Bucky whipped his head to look at Natasha. Silently, he gave the back of Steve's head a pointed look before looking back at her. Trying to nonverbally reprimand her while also praying that Steve hadn't heard. But how could he not have heard? He was standing RIGHT THERE! Honestly, Bucky wanted to strangle her for seemingly not caring that Steve was --

"Nah, there's enough of me to go around," Steve announced, smirking back at Bucky. Bucky was still too shocked to do anything but direct his gaze at Steve. And boy was it a mistake. Especially when Steve decided to wink at him.

Harshly, Bucky pressed his lips together to keep the inhuman squeak from escaping his mouth, and letting it die in his throat where it couldn't embarrass him. Not that he wasn't still embarrassed. His two best friends were purposely trying to exploit his feelings for Steve, after all.

"How about we go outside where you show everyone how strong you are?" Steve suggested to Conner, who was readily on board. But Bucky was sure that Conner would be up for anything that Steve offered.

Just like he, himself, was.

Nevertheless, the group started following Steve through the laundry room and out the back door to the backyard. Bucky held further back so he could be near Natasha and Sam. So he could have a stern talking to Natasha and Sam.

"Shouldn't you be right behind Steve?" Sam questioned.

"Or is it a better view back here?" Natasha added. Standing on her tiptoes, to be on the same level with Bucky -- and still being too short -- she mused, "You do get more of the full picture back here with --"

"Nat!" Bucky practically hissed out while elbowing her petite frame.

"Ow," Natasha exaggerated and Sam shook his head, "You better be careful, she seems like the murdering type."

"Hey," Natasha shrugged and coolly replied, "If he runs into my knife, it's on him."

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned around to face the pair as Sam confessed, "I like you."

"Thank you," Natasha sincerely stated, placing her hands on her chest, as though she was holding her heart. Then, she playfully narrowed her eyes at Bucky and rhetorically questioned, "I wonder why someone wanted to keep us separate all these years."

"Yeah, I wonder," Sam agreed, also jokingly narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

"This," Bucky confirmed pointing back and forth between the two, "This right here is why."

"Oh, c'mon," Sam scoffed, crossing his arms.

Natasha rolled her eyes and also crossed her arms, "We're the greatest best friends."

"Damn straight," Sam agreed, holding his fist out to Natasha who instantly raised her own to bump the side of her fist against the side of Sam's.

Bucky raked his hand through his hair and said, "Oh my god, you're both literally the worst."

"Rude," Natasha deadpanned, feigning offense.

"No, not rude," Bucky defended himself. "You know what's rude, you two --" pointing between the two again "-- purposely teasing me over my crush."

Sam's shoulders sagged and he guiltily worried his lower lip with his teeth as his gaze dropped. Softly, Sam apologized, "I'm sorry. I was just messing around."

"Same," Natasha agreed, looking just as guilty as Sam. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around Bucky's waist. Craning her neck back, she looked up at Bucky and said, "I'm really sorry."

Sighing, Bucky attempted to pout just a little while longer, but couldn't. Instead, he wrapped his arms protectively around Natasha's shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, "It's okay."

"Good," Sam jovially joined the pair. Wrapping his arms around both teens as he asked, "But seriously though, are you ever going to tell Steve?"

"Tell Steve what?" A deep voice questioned from behind Bucky, causing Bucky's body to go rigid in his friends' grasps.

#summer in your eyes #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #summer au #summer love #pining #slow burn

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atiredwriter42-blog · 6 years

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My Curse

I cannot breathe, eat, nor drink. Yet, I see everything and am alive. What am I?

No need to answer that question, it was simply rhetorical. However, the rhetoric is not present inside some of the words I speak. Truly, I cannot eat, breathe, or drink, it is something that I am incapable of doing. People see and use me every day, without really thinking about it. Because of these humans not thinking about what may be around them, they say things that were meant for no ears but their own. I absorb the knowledge and secrets of others and do nothing with them whatsoever. It is a silent curse placed upon me ever since the tragic slaughtering of my people so long ago. A curse that I have been exposed to simply because I am the only one from my family still alive. I must bear the weight of knowing I am the last of my family, and I cannot stop the end of our name, Willow.

The place I am condemned to isn’t quite so bad. The wall behind me is made of some rock that was dug up in nature-knows-where. The patterns on it are nice to look at on slower days when there are no people to listen to. The interesting part about the wall is the cliff at the top. It juts out like any other cliff should, but the humans are big enough to look above it and talk to some mysterious entity over the other side of this wall. Facing forward, the place itself is scattered with members from my old village, but I can not see any from my family. For all the years I’ve been in here, I’ve only seen distant family friends, like Willow and Douglas, but their families soon disappear as time does. They are cut down to just a margin of their original grandeur and used for these humans to rest on. When the humans break one into pieces, they simply throw it away and replace it. Bright boxes that speak words I can’t make out, mostly due to the sound, sprinkle the walls. The walls and floors are strange colors of black, white, and a color similar to my own, beige. All of these features seem minor enough, but the contrast of the natural setting with humans make the place pop out.

Speaking about the humans, they are truly the most interesting part about it all. The Maples, Douglas, and other pieces of nature were something I stared at for over 100 years, but the humans were something new to me. At first, I saw them as just another dumb ape as they wandered around me, but when they came to my home and destroyed it all, I realized they weren’t dumb apes, but evil ones. Even with all my hate towards them, I can’t seem to get enough of their careless antics. Their mindless talk about the world around them and the lack of understanding of it is so fascinating. The ability to see more than any other species on this planet and still take it for granted is hilarious, but still chilling. Although a pack is as strong as its weakest member, these guys knock it out of the woods. However, their infinite idiocy and never-ending foolishness never fail to entertain me.

For instance, there was a day like every other, a few early birds grabbed the worms, and then up and left. A rush of people came in again later, and from what I could tell, they were different looking ones. One particular individual sat on me, and I heard him asking for a “Shear Leaf Temple”, which sounded odd enough until he shifted his buttock and started talking to the one next to him.

“Did you know, this is one of the only places in the NATION to still have stools like this? Crazy, isn’t it? I couldn’t believe it myself, so I had to check it out, and sure enough, they got authentic ones!” The man hollered, jerking his body harshly when he spoke. The man sitting next to him, and simply scoffed at him.

“You know, being one of the only users of this stuff isn’t something to be impressed at. These people are the reason Earth is this fucked. If anything, they should have the feds in here arresting these people.” The guy grumbled, also shifting himself in the seat to face the man on me.

“Ha! You’re a funny guy, the name’s Greg, how ‘bout it champ?” ‘G-rag cracked, shooting his left appendage out.

“Johnson, I’ll pass on the hand shake. I don’t see what’s so funny about an establishment that goes strictly against the federal law.” John-son said, shrugging off the ‘hand-shake’.

“Well, if you hate this place so much, then why stay here? There are other ‘establishments’ around here that’ll serve you better.” G-rag calmly murmured. His tone, which shifted from eccentric and electric to mellow and smooth, like the river near our home.

“That’s the thing, I hate this place. Places like these will sink our nation into further chaos. Yet, I can’t leave this place. Why? Hell, amigo, I’d like to know myself, I’m sort of attracted here, like a moth to a light. It’s only a matter of time before I figure out the shocking truth about the light.” He said.

The two humans sat in silence for a while, sometimes shifting in their seats to stare at the colorful boxes. A solemn tone filled the air around them and reminded me of the day I was taken away from my home. The humans came to our land, took us away, and cut us down in metal boxes with sharp blades. The blades cut through my body in a matter of seconds, and half of me was sent elsewhere. I suppose when I look at it that way, there are only two members left of the Willows, me and me. I tried not to think about another part of me stranded in the world like me, and with that queue, John-son sat up.

“I have to run some errands, I’ll see you later Greg,” he turned and was confused as who this new “Greg” character was.

“Alright my boy, I’ll catch you sooner or later,” G-rag hollered, and once again I was confused, did this human go by multiple names? “Oh! Don’t forget your mask, life out there can get quite rough out there!”

All the other man did was a nod and wave his right appendage, and grabbed a piece of leather off the wall, and walked out into the world. The ‘mask’ perplexed me, but it had been a while since I’ve seen the outdoors, so things are probably much different without me.

Do you ever think about what it would be like to be cut in half? How would I know if the part that was cut from me was the actual me? What if I was just created by being seperated with myself? Of course, I have all the memories of myself, but what if I was split, and I wasn’t the original one?

Something on the colorful box piqued my interest recently. It was a man, and the man was talking to another man with long hair. The one with the long hair was talking quite aggressively it seemed, and their face looked like my skin when I was still free, but redder and less brown. The other man was simply listening to him scream on, and soon enough something flashed on the screen. It was another Willow, like myself. This one was still free, and then a headline popped up under it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read it, as I can only listen to human language and understand.

“‘Woman argues the integrity of the country by giving them last full Willow, angry with what they did with it.’ Ha! What a joke, doesn’t she know the boys up there will consume anything you give ‘em?” someone laughed, but I could not see them, so chances were they were behind the giant cliff behind me.

However, the part that mentions a Willow was unnerving. There’s another Willow out there? I’ve never seen the lady in my life so they couldn’t be referencing me, right? With what I heard from the voice, I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point. If the humans who got my home were in possession of the last member of the Willow family, then it’s already too late for them, whoever they are.

In all my time in this place, there are many things I hear. There are even more things I see. There are so much more I understand, but above all, there are too many things I don’t understand. Three men were talking to each other one particularly slow day, and I remember it quite well. The room was only the three I mentioned and another human on the left of the room, and to my understanding was napping.

“Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t got nothin’ wrong with rabbits, but those little shits get everywhere. They multiply and spread like wildfire, and eat everything there is. My crops can’t handle this any longer, especially not after the water cuts!” One said, gesturing his appendages quickly, but then just as quickly placing them back on the table.

“I know what you mean pal, they really are hard to catch. Hell, just the other day, I was running one down with my rifle and dodged every bullet I shot at it! Can you even believe that?” Another one said. Apparently, the one who initially started talking was named “Pal”, which was a strange name, but then again my last name is Willow and I’m the last one left, so I guess I’m the odd one out here.

“Buddy, don’t even get me STARTED on their ninja reflexes. It like they can see the future or something!” Pal said, looking at what I imagined to be “Buddy”. The third stayed quiet the entire time they were there and looked pale. The other two never acknowledged him, let alone look at him. Isolation and abandonment aside, the man sitting on the far left of the place got up and walked over to the table of the three.

“You fellas mind if I take a seat here?” He asked, pointing at the sit that held the ghastly third man. The other two men, Buddy and Pal, nodded without a second thought, and the third man just got up from his seat and walked out of my view. Some friends they are!

“I couldn’t help but hear you talking about those invasive devils. You know, the government only recently tried to control the rabbit population, but those sex addicts just kept pumping out more of themselves. You’d think with all the weapons in the world and a billion people, a small pest like rabbits wouldn’t stand a chance!” The replacement threw his hands up and then sighed. The irony in his statement burned like the sun, and I was about to tune them out, but Pal said something that surprised me.

“Yeah, you sure can say that again, the rabbits are getting so bad out here, they practically killed our friend. He always spent time with us in this here bar, and always sat where you are sitting now, but after the rabbits ate his livelihood, he kicked the bucket, literally!” Pal laughed, and the replacement shivered. I suppose the mysterious, white friend that sat with the other two was their friend then. I felt a slimmer of remorse, then remembered what they did to my home and instantly was filled with indifference, vengeance almost.

The three sat there without talking and placed their cups to their mouths. From all the years I’ve been here, apparently the term for doing so is “drinking”. I suppose every animal sustains fluids in their bodies one way or another, no matter how strange it seems. Many of the things I know today are simply due to these very animals talking too much. I didn’t know a single thing about these humans except one thing, I hated them. I suppose that feeling is still here, deep down, but I’ve most likely suppressed it after realizing how little I can really do in this position. Personally, I’ve gotten used to not doing anything but listen, and listen I do. For starters, humans are some of the only animals to actually do more talking than anything. They talk and talk even after many stop listening. They say things that they shouldn’t, to those they don’t know, with consequences they never fully see. Some of their favorite things to say are words like “fuck”, “shit”, “asshole”, “you wanna take this outside?”, and “hold my bear”. Now, I don’t understand how they think a small glass is a bear, but no one around them seems to care too much. I assume many of these words are provoking ones, as shortly after they are said, someone attacks someone else. This is another thing humans seem to enjoy more than many other animals, fight. Of course, I saw the occasional bird spar with another for territory, but with these humans, the sparring leads to someone bigger than both of them kicking them out. When I really think about it, humans surely are a brute of a species.

Although I express a strong disdain toward humans, I can’t imagine a world without them. They may be scum that takes and never gives, and they may be the sole reason my home is gone, but they may be the next step for nature. I, like every creature in nature, understand one simple principle in life, that life is not fair. Life will never make sense, and it will always favor against you. Nature favors itself, and we are not a part of it. We are simply on for the ride, and we have to adapt around Nature’s fickle fluxuations. Humans would not be here today if they did not understand this, and certainly, they would not be here if they did not cheat. Humans are truly the first race to grab ahold of nature and tell it what to do. This change in power was abrupt, and too many species couldn’t adapt in time. I want to believe this form of myself is simply me adapting, but nature isn’t so kind. I’m the last remaining member of the Willow family for a reason.

Humans will destroy everything. Nature can’t do anything about that, it’s simply not strong enough. Yet, humans are still not strong enough to rule as the force to replace nature. It feels like a redundant statement, but it’s a fact. The only reason Nature lost to humans is that it was spread thin. Humans at one point, from what I’ve heard, were all concentrated in a single area and were strong enough to conquer nature there. They slowly took piece by piece from nature, and nature was too weak to fight back. Now that humans have over half of the Earth taken from Nature, they’ll begin to spread out and thin. What will happen then? I cannot say, but I can safely assume one thing; A force greater than nature and humans will come around and sweep both of them clean off the Earth. Although humans are very archaic, they do get it from somewhere. In fact, everything on Earth has this that humans have, whether in a lesser or greater degree. Where do they get it? Well, they learn it from the battlefield that is this Earth. This is not home, this is a battlefield where everything is born here and dies here.

Dear Nature, look at me, I’m starting to act like humans, rambling on when someone already stopped listening to a long time ago. What is happening around me? I must find something to distract me from turning too much like these humans.

“Ha! That’s a good-” One human said before I tuned them out, and other started talking about something named Do-Bald Trunk. Everywhere I look, there are humans, how am I going to distract myself from these creatures? Oh nature please, help me! I would much rather die alongside my family than be here in a transitional period of the Earth. I am alone and silent. I have been reduced to a mindless observer, one who-

Wait. Wait that’s it! I cannot possibly be a human, I’m just an observer. That is all I am, Nature has placed me here as a silent observer for the future. This is how it should be, I should be the last of all who served Nature, to carry it on just a little bit longer. Someone will come along then and relinquish my duty from me, right? All I have to do now is wait for that person to come.

One evening, that person did come. It was much later from that thought I had, most likely a few months, or even a year or so. However, the person was not as I’d imagined, as, over the time I waited, I imagined what they’d look like. They’d be a human, of course, and they’d be warming and welcoming like Nature was when I was born. This one was, to be put lightly, brooding and menacing. They wore dark pieces of cloth, with a white one hidden behind the other dark ones. Human culture sure was strange. Anyhow, the human walked to the cliff and talked to someone for a bit. They talked very quietly to each other, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. When the human finished, they came over to me and took me away.

I should mention at this point that the place I was cursed to was beginning to fall apart. Less and fewer humans came here, and between the last human to leave and the first to arrive, another piece of the place disappeared. First it was the black boxes, then it was the neighbors around me, and finally, I was the last to go.

The human picked me up, put on what I imagined to be a mask, and took me outdoors, where I saw something completely harrowing. The blue sky I remembered when I was young was now turned into a brown that I could only describe as similar to my own skin. The clouds I used to look at and count are black and depressing to look at. There was no green anywhere, and the grass I used to admire for being so majestic in the wind is now dead and void of life. I could also see nearby a human that looked as beat up and disgusting as the Earth. This particular human crawled everywhere, sometimes jumping up and grabbing something or attacking someone. The human eventually crawled over to a hole in the ground and stuck their hand down it. When the hand came back up, green liquid came with it, and the human placed it close to its mouth, drinking it in the process. I hoped that the liquid was not water, but I doubted the thought the instant it came to my mind.

I was taken and placed in a box, and after an unknown amount of time, I was taken out. We were someplace different, but the sky and clouds and grass were all still the same upsetting color. The man reassured me that I’d be the revolution of the future, whatever that meant. He walked into a building that was completely white and pure on the inside, with people in equally white garments. The only room that was not a pure white was the one I was put in, which was a dark brown and green room. I later realized this was the human’s poor recreation of my home, and that I was supposed to feel like I never left.

“This one will be the one. If we just wait a while, the stool will just make trees, right?” One of the white garemented men asked. The others nodded in agreement, and I laughed at their stupidity. They really thought that this poor attempt would work for anything? They also believed that in my state I can reproduce? Have these humans gone insane from their own desperate attempts to save themselves?

Days went by and the humans looked uneasily nervous. They entered my room and paced back and forth, and without any results, stormed out of the room and I could hear faint traces of voices from the other side. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this somewhat. For starters, I was alone for a majority of the time, and if I tried hard enough, I’d feel like I was home again. The enjoyment was short-lived, as one of the men came barreling through the door, screaming about saving someone named “Willie”.

When the man entered, he looked like the others, but he picked me up viciously, and said to me, “Don’t worry one-bit little buddy, I’ll get you home, I’ll make sure you rest easy where you were born!”

I brushed off his lazy attempt to appease me. There’s nothing left of my home after humans ruined it, doesn’t he know that?

“Of course, it won’t be like before, but it’s still there!” He said.

I couldn’t believe what I heard! This man barged into my facade and held in front of me my home, I begged him in my mind to take me there. However, this human was different than the others, for he heard my cries.

“Hush! Willie, don’t worry an ounce, I’ll make sure you can rest easy. They wanted to tear you apart and desecrate your scraps without a second thought. I told them they were mad, and they-” He said.

Although his name for me, ‘Willie’, was quite strange, I liked it. I was glad to hear that this human wanted to protect me from further harm. I couldn’t muster up the strength to tell him he was too late, because I’ve already been torn apart years before I came here. Instead, I told him that we need to get out of this place.

“Do you hear that Willie? They are coming for us, for me. They’ll rip the meat offa my skin if they got their grimy fingers on me. But, you know me, Willie, I wouldn’t let that happen. No sir, not one bit! Let’s scatter.” He exclaimed. His eyes darted around, and those same eyes blinked at speeds I don’t think I’d ever seen.

I told him to lead the way, and we both left the building I stayed in. We got into a car similar to the one they brought me in, but it was decorated with much more color. The back had real leaves this time, and the coloring of the walls was much more realistic. We drove for some time, and I could hear my new friend yell, “Don’t worry back there Willie, I made sure to make it as much like your home as possible. I had a hard time finding actual leaves, cause you know, they come from trees, and well… that’s not important anymore. What’s important Willie is that you’ll be home soon and I’ll-”

What could he mean by that? How could trees not be important anymore? It must have been another one of those ‘figure-of-speeches’ I suppose. At first, I thought he tried talking to me, but he simply made extraordinarily loud noises for no reason. He apologized for it, and he continued to take me home.

When the car stopped moving, he grabbed me, and something else that I couldn’t really see completely.

“Willie, here we are. We finally made it Willie, ain’t it something else?” He said, covering his mouth.

What he talked about was surely something else. The skies, for one, were a blue-green color, and the ground was more or less green. It wasn’t exactly my home, but even I couldn’t tell where that was anymore. He then set me down and revealed what he was concealing to me.

“Willie, Willie, come on now baby. Don’t say that to me, I know that it’s hard. How do you think I feel, HOW DO YOU THINK IT MAKES ME FEEL?” He started yelling, flailing around the sharp object in his hand.

I don’t know what I said that offended him, but he calmed down and started to cry. He mumbled something about the future and other human things I would never understand. He lifted the sharp object and struck it into me.

There were times in the place with the cliff where I had been used by humans larger than others and thought I would snap in half. The pressure they put on my body was terrifying, and I saw it happen once. The victim next to me was my neighbor for no less than a year, and that night they snapped like a twig. I never wanted to feel that sort of pain, and with that sharp object jutting out of my body, I experienced pain that was immeasurable. Even with my screams, he kept going until I couldn’t think anymore. There was only a portion of me big enough to maintain fleeting thoughts, but the other parts of me were too small too.

“Willie, I love you more than anything in this world, and I know that hurting you hurts me beyond explanation. I’ll be with you soon, and you’ll hate me for some time. However…” He said to me. I couldn’t continue to listen though, as I quickly lost consciousness.

Yeah, I know this was supposed to be a weekly thing, but school is kind of kicking my ass at the moment, so apologies for that! The next prompt by @storypromptsforfun Will be up eventually. My schedule right now is quite crazy, so I’m not going to make promises I cannot keep. Anyways, hope you enjoy and I’ll see you all soon enough! --TW

#storypromptsforfun #short story #writing #writing challenge #story #WILLIE

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aellesaan · 7 years

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Wanderings in Mac’Aree: The Final piece.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

At the base of the pedestal the following was written in Argussian, an ancient old dialect: "I get cut, but I never bleed. I have teeth, but I don’t bite. I get put on a ring, but I’m not a diamond. I get turned, but I’m not a page." Beside this inscription was a round metal ring, looking remarkably familiar as the other projectors the Construct had used, this one only containing a button, perhaps a summon in case they got stuck?

Ash was the first to the pedestal which held the key, followed by a bouncy Aellesaan, but it was clear that he had no idea what this strange writing said. He stood there, scratching his head for a moment, looking at the weird chicken scratch, but was unable to decipher it. He looks back to Aellesaan and raises a brow "You have any idea what this nonsense is?" He points at the writing, then his eyes fall to the button, and his eyes light up. "Oooh, I wonder what this does..." Ash , not knowing if it was some sort of self destruct button, not really having paid attention to much of what the emotionally sensitive can opener had said before, besides the fact that it seemed very quick to anger and sounded more like a five year old throwing a tantrum than any real threat, presses the button rapid fire, mashing down on it as if he had hoped it was a call button for food service.

As Ash mashed down the button, Aellesaan patiently waited. "I wonder if there is food after this for a reward. I want a burrito right now; preferably a roasted orc burrito. Have you ever had orc before? Tastes quite delicious." Realizing she was rambling, yet again, she looked at the other Draenei. "Any of you old folk know how to read this scribbly mess?"

Ashaar grinned at Aellesaan and nodded.” That's what I was hoping, actually. I hoped this was some sort of food call button, maybe they'd give us some food for being so patient and awesome." Food was all he really had on his mind since dropping his sandwich, and his grumbling stomach was certainly making a fuss. He mashed the button a few more times, looking at the circle with a furrowed brow "Come on, you hulking mass of mechanical ignorance, give us snacks!"

If that button had of been a destruction button or in any way dangerous well oh boyyyy lets just say Ash would not have had a great day oh no not at all. As it were, it was lucky for him it was not dangerous, and it didn't seem to do much of anything yet besides emitting a glow a pattern which emitted onto the pad that seemed insignificant so far. Epilvik blinked at Aellesaan shaking his head in surprise. "Wait.. orc burritos? like orc meat.. it tastes nice.. really? But they are filthy animals... hardly better than a rapid dog... I’m very surprised, though pleased at the same time as well. Least they serve one decent purpose, and better yet they have to be dead to do it." Epilvik commented morbidly, as unaware as the others of how to read the script, so he watched to see what the pad would do. They certainly didn't get snacks, not even close, instead... it was their favourite mechanical construct as it blinked into existence, seemingly having been disturbed from whatever it was doing. "What the- oh it’s you again... and you’re all wet," It said laughing hysterically in amusement as it looked at Ash, though it stopped haltingly as it looked to Aelle. "Well you made it through. You guessed right, but you got dumped on, and very well. Guess my help would have been useful, huh?" it questioned with immense satisfaction. "So now I bet you want me to read that puzzle for you huh? Well well well... give me one good reason why I should do so?" He said nearly ready to leave this group stuck in this place.

Aellesaan smiled kindly at him, and waved. "Hello again dear old friend. I must say, thank you immensely for your guidance. I have heard a saying before: Two heads are better than one. It was a pleasure to work with you on this. However, would you be so kind as to teach me what this script says? I do love learning, especially from a handsome fella as yourself. Your armour is so nicely cleaned and shined." Her kind words, plus being in a wet t-shirt should work on him she hoped. Isn't that what all men wanted? She wondered.

Ash frowned as the only thing that appeared in the circle was that annoying construct. "Great, this asshole again. Don't you have a scrap heap convention to get to? You better have brought some fucking snacks, you cantankerous, bug-ridden vending machine." He was having fun coming up with new, and inventive insults for the arrogant chuck of scrap metal, whether or not it was helping their cause. He looked at Aellesaan with a raised brow, and half a grin "Seriously? Gonna try charming the can opener?" He gives a bit of a shrug, and looks at the Curator "Hey, tell us what that says, and she'll show you her boobs." He hoped that would work, after all, the thing did seem to have a bit of a crush on the spunky space goat. He waited patiently for the construct to reply, hoping it wasn't some dumb riddle again.

Aellesaan glared at Ash angrily. "My breasts are mine not yours. Watch yourself before you end up with frozen limbs you dim witted goat faced Draenei! Go grow your own pair of tits," she said with a huff.

Ash's face went blank as Aelle yelled at him; a slight pout formed on his lips as he blinked a few times at her. He turned back to the construct and glared. "See what you did? You made me upset her! You should be ashamed of yourself, you defective trash compactor!" He huffs and gives Aelle a nod, like he had just fixed things.

"Oh, for crying out loud, here!" Kairyth finally snaped, looking up from where she'd been studying the writing. Her lips moved soundlessly as she squinted and puzzled over the archaic writing. She reached into one of the many pouches at her belt and shoves a desiccated strip of... something... at Ash. "Eat this, it's good for you. " The something, should Ash be bold enough to try it, would prove to be smoked and dried clefthoof of a sort many Rangari carried on their person - flavorful despite its unappetizing appearance, and sufficient to keep one's teeth busy and the worst of hunger pangs at bay for a time. With a huff, and ignoring Aeiia's pleased exclamations over her "generosity," Kairyth turns back to the writing. "My Pop made me learn... hmmm. Been a while..." She stops, looking blank. "I'm almost certain this says "teeth." Something about teeth. Or cactus. And this one here," She taped the writing with one stained fingertip. "Blood. Or bleeding. Or possibly uh... juice?" She sat back on her hooves with a groan, swiping water from her face irritably. She took a long drink from her second-best flask. "Well this is useless."

If the construct could beam properly, it likely would at the pretty Draenic ladies words. The construct turned to address her properly, so far being the only one there that has cared anything about him, and that treated him with even a modicum of the immense respect he considered himself entitled to. "Least there is one amongst you who sees greatness before you. Why can't the rest of you be like her? She at least was clearly raised right!" He commented huffily to the others as Aellesaan flirted with him openly, enjoying the compliments that she paid him. Unfortunatly before he had an opportunity to respond to Aellesaan, good ol Ash butted in again with the insults. The construct immediately swung its fury toward him; reached out as it flicked the man on the nose... hard. "Oi deaf prick... haven't you learnt by now insulting those you need help from isn't of value?" It questioned him rhetorically with a voice full of loathing for the man. He tilted his head though at Ash's suggestion. "Oh is she now.. well... huh.... hmm..." The curator responded going silent as if seriously contemplating that offer before he noticed Aellesaan angrily responded to Ash, looking near ready to hit the man in the face. He made a soft chuckling noise at seeing someone else put him down.

"See what I did? It was you who were dumb enough to open your mouth unable to keep it in your pants! Just because you can’t appreciate what you already have, with her before you in a wet shirt, you had to try pushing it. Don’t you try pushing that on me now bucko, oh no no no, you’re just a dim witted little man,” It responded back huffily bending to look straight on at him, acting every bit like two males fighting over the same female, and indeed that is what it was, after all beyond being in a construct he was indeed a Draenic male. He watched as one of the wild people angrily stalked over to Ash and threw some sort of food at him and bossed him around quite maternally it seemed. Was it his mother? Truthfully the construct couldn’t give a shit. Kairyth would get a few of the words right, but nowhere near enough to learn the full riddle. "Hmm you got a few words... but oh my my my... you are never going to guess the answer like that, and you only have three guesses before your sealed in here forever, so you better think through it," It told them smugly satisfied in its superior knowledge. "My Light, how do they not teach you language nowadays? Young people, humpf."

Though clearly pleased to see that Kairyth had shared something - anything - Aeiia is also wet and cold and verging on grumpy - none of which suits her temperament. Perhaps that's why, though she smiles sweetly as ever at the construct, her words are laced with salt. "There is no inherent virtue in being old, you know. It simply takes a long time." She turns her attention to the Rangari she'd purportedly feared for decades. "If your lessons under your father's tutelage were anything like mine..." She shudders, forcibly shaking off the memory and composing her features carefully. "The knowledge is there, you must simply find it." She sighed sadly, looking from Kairyth, to the inscription, to the ball of Light in her palm. "This will hurt." "What do--" but the words died on Kairyth's lips, fading to a whimper and then a near-howl of pain as, moving swiftly - more swiftly than Kairyth would have thought her able - Aeiia pushed her palm flat against the words, and clasped her own hand to the scarred tattoo on Kairyth's shoulder. Aeiia's jaw snapped shut with an audible crack of teeth against teeth and the ball of Light in her free hand shuddered violently, twisting and contorting into meaningless shapes, runes, and figures with increasing speed. This continued for several long moments - the kneeling Rangari's screams echoed from the chamber walls, Aeiia's muscles were rigid, until suddenly, abruptly, it ceased. Kairyth's fury was palpable as she wrenched her hand away from the writing, swiping angrily at the trickle of bright blue blood from her nose. "I still can't even read it, you bitch!" She snapped, then stared, open-mouthed. Aeiia gasped for breath, panting sharply. "Mind magic..." she whispered with a moue of distaste. But there, gleaming brightly an inch above her palm, was the shining but unmistakable image of a key.

Ash rubbed his temple a bit as people around him began bickering, possibly a headache from lack of food, possibly from the bickering, but he gladly accepted the jerky from Kairyth, not questioning what it was, simply devouring it. After chewing for what seemed like five minutes, holding a finger up to the construct to let it know he was about to speak again, he swallowed the jerky, and tilted his head a bit to look back at the Curator. "Fine, I will try to be nice, as long as you stop being a complete dick. Deal?" He puts his hand out to shake the construct's hand, but leans forward with a glare. "But let me make one thing abundantly clear...you ever fucking flick me again, and I will toss your rusty metal ass onto one of those sun tiles and watch you melt, you got me?"

Soaking wet, and beginning to feel slightly grumpy, Aellesaan watched the chaos begin to unfold before her. She highly disliked encountering so many loud noises, and the screaming on top of it, made her curl in on her self. Memories of her childhood began to trickle through her mind which left her a curled up, shaking mess. She desperately found a wall, and sat against it, humming to herself to block out the images. She might as well rest while everyone else tried to figure out the scribbles.

Whilst all of this madness had continued on, Danarshi refused to move from the spot in which he landed from scaling the rung course - at least not until he had caught his breath and recovered from his efforts; lazy old fool. As his companions crossed the course of engraved tiles, he simply watched them, learning the answer via the easy way, again; sly reprobate. Although they were rather distant, he could roughly hear the exchange, that of which was consumed by obvious confusion, and then overridden by the blood-curdling screams of Kairyth. At that moment, Danarshi shot up on to his hooves and raced across the tiles, his robes were now utterly drenched from head to toe from the gallons of water that poured down upon him, like the wrath of the titans themselves. The Anchorite stood before the group, awkwardly, water audibly and visibly dripping down on to the stone floor beneath him. "Forgive me for the delay. What did I miss?" he suddenly inquired. So far, he had proved himself as quite the dead weight.

The construct turned its annoyance to a second female, looking bored towards her. "Hm.. something a child would comment, how appropriate considering..." He commented making a sound of what would have amounted to a yawn though watched in interest at the idea of one of the Draenei hurting another. He jumped, startled, as would Epilvik and Rhuua, as Aeiia's action surprised and horrified them with what she was doing, so callously injuring and harming another of their party. Even if she was a rude grumpy butt, and it wasn't fleeting pain either, but the screaming continued, lasting and going on and on as Aeiia must have probed Kairyth's mind for the answers she desired. The anger and fury of Kairyth was palpable when Aeiia finally released her, the Construct assumed the other girl would try and kill this Draenei for what had clearly been a horrifically painful experience. However he noticed Aeiia's hand and the shape glowing above it. "What the fuck... how the ... damn," It commented with a sigh, saddened by the development.

It looked down at Ash when the Vindicator approached it and offered him friendship, making him wait as if considering it for several minutes. "Fine... I guess I can tolerate you, for the time I need to put up with you, but you better behave yourself in the future. Also the idea of you tossing me is laughable... this frame is extraordinarily heavy," It said amused at the thought this provoked.

The rest of the group or any who were looking would be able to witness the glass container slowly sliding into the floor, revealing now suspended, seemingly just in the air, the solid piece of ruby, intricately and ornately carved and shaped. The entire length seemed to serve a purpose from the regular teeth part of the key to the elaborate hilt of it too. The final piece they required to unlock the Vault of Archimonde; where they could then seize the scepter that they had been seeking. The trials and tribulations finally over, having gathered all three items they needed to complete the unlocking sequence. It was then however that a disembodied voice, soft, almost whispering, almost as if it was in their very heads, both there, and then not there, as it spoke to them, "Do not go any further. What you seek will take your very souls. Don’t fall like so many others before you. He wants you to take it." Before it fell silent, it would answer no more from them, as the Construct looked to them. "Well well well... Looks like you succeed, guess now all that’s left is for you to delve into the vault at the great university." He commented casually.

Danarshi's inquiry had almost immediately answered itself as the glass casing around the ruby key slid away, leaving their prize for the taking, or so it seemed. As the mysterious voice filled their minds in warning, concern was quick to seep into the veins of Danarshi. Whilst he struggled to determine the source of the message, suspecting that it may, perhaps, be Shadow, or Arcane magic, he mustered a mighty breath and then stepped forward, towards the key. "Wait. Something is amiss," the Anchorite warned his companions. He stood in front of the key to ensure they could not take it. "It is due to the efforts of you, and you only, that we have survived this labyrinth, my brothers and sisters. Please, allow the burden of seizing the key to be my own. If the worse shall come to pass, at least it will have been I who shielded you all from it." Danarshi insisted in a somber tone. Allowing his companions barely a matter of seconds to try and stop him, he turned himself towards the ruby key and lifted his right arm, courageously grasping it within his right hand. As his hand encased the key, he closed his eyes and focused upon the inner Light within him, hoping that it would be enough to shield him if something were to occur.

The majority of this time, Phaelastra had kept to the shadows as much as possible - quietly following the group's lead. However... at Danarshi's comment, she slowly took the bow off her back, her free hand ready to arm it with an arrow. Her breaths were slow and even; however, every muscle remained tense. While she may not be in the center of the gathering, she could at least hopefully prevent something from happening if her rangari senses are able to pick up on them.

Danarshi, all the ceremony and bravery that he showed, his willingness to put himself into danger and sacrifice himself should it have been necessary, willfully placing himself between his people and a danger that he did perceive. However... it was for naught, he grasped the key, lifted the key, and it came away smoothly of whatever gravity well it had been in, becoming a regular key in his hand. Albeit considering what it was made of, extremely heavy, but they had completed the task, the key was secure, and they were all alive and safe. The Construct tapped its foot loudly. "If you people are well and truly finished, you can all gather here. There is no way back but through this teleport. If you don’t come with the group, you’ll be stuck here and I am NOT making multiple trips, so get your butts over here. You can celebrate and exalt one another after I get to leave," It complained reminding them of its presence.

Aellesaan having quieted herself down from the previous chaos and screaming, shuffled over to the construct. The whole adventure had hit her, and she felt tired, hungry, and grumpy. She would still of course, be humming to herself with an odd smile on her face.

#Aellesaan #Te'Amun #Danarshi #Epilvik #Aeiia #Kairyth #Phaelastra #Mac'Aree #RP #Wanderings in Mac'Aree #Part five #Aelle #Draenei #Ashaar #Rhuua

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lovepoemsforjaehyun · 7 years

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B1A4 2017 Live Space: 4 Nights in the U.S. - San Francisco, CA

<Live Space 2017> 19 February at the Warfield

Start time: 8:05pm End time: 10:03pm Hi-touch: 10:20-30pm

NOTE: This was written the night of the concert, so all of the moments here and what I remembered from that very night. I didn’t have time to post it up until now. Also, no photos because @strongchanpion has already posted the ones I’ve took.

== Pre-show ==

The really, really crazy thing @strongchanpion and I had ever done was to wait six hours for a concert!! The weather wasn't too well because it was windy and sprinkling/continuously rains. Besides, there so many sirens that went on that annoyed the daylight out of me. One thing that was cute was the fact that a police car strolled around and asked a question. Then later they came back and put 'What is Going On?' through their intercom. So cool! (Go ahead and check out @strongchanpion‘s fan account!)

During the wait, I have done most of the talking. It was so easy to keep things occupied but later I have gotten tired. The Warfield employees made things complicated because they did not announce about splitting the line in two: the VIP and the G.A. purchasers. It happened like this: I saw people running and I was confused and ran too. I knew it was something involved with VIP because I heard people saying it.

6:54pm was the estimated time that I have gotten in. I went by quick through security because I had nothing to be checked. I almost walked pass a lady by the doorway that was supposed to check my ticket (because I was too excited to get a good seat). Once I came into the Warfield theater, the pit was already full. (B1A4′s Only One was playing!) I walked out from the pit and walked to the GA standing because it was empty! I had to take my chance and did! FRONT ROW SEATS! YES!!

@strongchanpion and I talked about how excited we were for this. We were both ready for the concert! (A quick observation I’ve made during the pre-show was I saw someone looking behind the curtain on stage left. I think it is even staff or B1A4 looking at the crowd! OMG!) Around 7:45pm, the crew volume the B1A4's music louder in the theater. A few songs such as Good Night Baby (I think that is the song), O.K, What is Going On? that played for BANAs to sing along. They did and they were so GOOD! After that, the lights dimmed down at 8:05pm. It was SHOWTIME! And I was so super excited!

== CONCERT ==

8:10pm was when B1A4 came out. They exited stage-left and waved to greet us. The entire theater echoed with cheers! I was in shock because B1A4 were real (and they are)! (My reactions:) I saw Jin Young and said, "No way!" Then my eyes went to San Deul and thought, "San Deul??" I then saw Gong Chan and said, "Oh god, Gong Chan is real!" To Baro, "What? Baro?" And CNU, "It's really CNU!' Overall reaction: "B1A4 is really on stage!!!!" <3

Their first opening song was Melancholy. (I am shocked about this because I thought it was O.K or Lonely was going to be the opening.) They are all so freaking cute!!!

In the Air, Oh my Go, 악몽 (Nightmare), You, and네에게 한번더 반하는 순간 (The Moment I Fall For You Again) – To sing along with B1A4, I looked at how B1A4 sang and copy the words coming from their mouth to go with the melody. And if I don’t know the lyrics, I will hum the tune.

Sweet Girl – A song that’s never my favorite (but I learned how to like this song), so I rested my voice well during this song.

When the lights fade to black-out, I saw CNU in the center downstage and pulled a long white string out. I knew right away that the upcoming song was Lonely. Just as the beat came on, I heard Lonely and screamed so much!! They are so synced and well-rehearsal! Perfect as they are!! After, they sang 거짓말이야 (A Lie)! My heart died and I screamed even more because this was what I’ve been waiting for! To see them perform this! The chorus and the bridge got me the most (and it always does)!! (Clearly remembered Gong Chan handsomely walking forward to the center. Left hands holding onto the microphone and right hand in his pockets.) One thing I clearly remember was B1A4 was dancing in a dark-ish blue stage (lighting) and once the chorus, the lights changed to red/orange look. From that point on, the lighting started to brightened up a bit more. I loved the song choice between Lonely and A Lie. Good transition!!

꿈에 – The song that B1A4 sat down for a slow song! One thing I remembered from this performance was the members were going to sit. Baro said, "OK, let's sit." And then he clarified and said, "No, no, you guys don't. Only members."

If (너만 있으면) – This was the HIGHLIGHT of the concert for me! I’ve been telling @strongchanpion about if B1A4 performed this song, I will be in tears and cheers! And I did! (Expect for the tears, LOL!) Hearing B1A4 performed this song live in videos from their concerts and live sessions were amazing but not as much as this one (even if it is not live music played)! I loved when Jinyoung and San Deul vocalized together, having a mini duet during Baro’s rap. The best part on Earth for this song! And especially when Gong Chan is being a cutie that was in between them and pointed back and forth to show that the two got those notes!!! One of the most anticipated song I have longed for! And one of the reasons why I wanted to go since they announced this concert back in December!

The Time Machine –I knew they were going to perform O.K when Baro told us, "We're going back in time when we were young. To our debut days." About eight/nine songs were mixed together into a medley. It was awesome. (Though I couldn’t really remember what had happened!)

몇번을 (How Many Times) – Oh yes! I was glad that they have performed this because I like how CNU did an amazing job pitching that second verse! *Cheers!*

내가 널 찾을게 (I’ll Find You) – Another good one (again)! I fell in love with this song when I heard it passing by in my iPod, while reading and studying. Once I heard I live, it was mind-blowing! Jinyoung’s pitch was phenomenal! He sounded so much better in live because I saw his gestures and emotions poured. (And he sat in the middle, which was a perfect view from where I stood which was the middle of the G.A. standing.) I was touched.

Drunk on You & Sparkling – From this day on, both songs reminds me of Baro. The excited squirrel! <3 And like what @strongchanpion said, Sparkling was when the shower began. What’s funny was when Baro asked about showering. I rhetorically answered, “Yes, I do need a shower.” (At that time, I was sweating in my sweater.) I didn’t know that B1A4 will literally give us a shower but once it started, there was no stopping.

Good Timing - Water bottle splashes and confetti flew everywhere. The song was repeated over 4x. A beautiful way to end this! (Jinyoung couldn't get over the fact that the concert was ending so he stood on stage so long even if the towels were long gone. He continuously waved by and then did a ten second pose for the audience. This leader is too cute!) The part that the members kept on throwing water to the audience was great! It was hyped and refreshing. I loved how strong Baro and Sandeul was. Every time they were to swing the water bottle to the center, the water reached to the GA standing! Amazing talents that have! LOL!! (Baro was really cute every time he brought a crate of water bottle to the stage for the members. Really well-prepared! :D)

Since the concert was based off from their 3rd album, Good Timing, this album has made a beautiful memory with these fellas! I am glad that the songs I liked are performed: O.K, Lonely, A Lie, If, How Many Times, Yesterday, I'll Find You, Good Timing, and What is Going On?, and Solo Day. Worth it!! They are such great performers and interactive beings! I love the fact that they threw water (from water bottle) and threw towels. So freaking cool and fun! Amazing people. I always wanted to see them live because I always see them through videos. They have done beautifully (tonight).

== Members ==

Specifically talking about the members, Baro - I must talk about this guy first because he is just everything in this concert. I love the way how he communicates with us and his word choices are really simple and clear! I love when he told Jinyoung to stop playing with Sandeul. He said, "Hey, stop playing around." So cute, like a teacher. LOL. Also, when he threw the towel and it came all the way towards us and some ladies were fighting over it, Baro said, "No fighting." Geez, this guy is too cool and funny!! If I had a day to hang out with Baro, I definitely will! He seems pretty awesome to hang with!

Gong Chan is really handsome in reality. I couldn’t stop looking at him during the concert. At first sight coming on stage, I was shocked because he is really matured looking – much better in live!!

Jinyoung is a cutie pie. He really likes to have fun and is mischief. I like how he did all sorts of things that are amazingly adorable. It was really cute when he said, "SF BANAs, you are the best!" And he did a thumbs up. A really cute leader! (If I remember correctly, he did the Sprout Dance.)

CNU is so tall and handsome, just like Gong Chan. Yet at the same time, CNU is really interesting. His dance moves and body waves on stage. However, I was so glad to see him did so well for A Lie. And I love his vocals for How Many Times and really glad to hear that live!!!

San Deul, this kid is adorable. This kid really is!! (: I love his live performance and pitch! They are so perfect and well done! So proud! I was so glad to witness his Jo Jang Hyuk smile and singing gestures. Loved it really much. Especially when he sang, "Stay the way you are." Masterful.

== Hi-touch ==

It happens so quick. We went to the pit but then got lined up. Everyone cheered so loud when they came. Gong Chan and CNU high-five fans from the pit and the far GA standing. When they lined up, I was scared. The line was moving so quick. It happened all too fast.

Gong Chan was first. I thought to myself, “Why does Gong Chan have to be first?” He was intimidating. He was the first person I remember but I had forgotten what to say, even to all of the members. Once I came, I interlocked fingers with him and we made eye contact. I then moved on to Baro. That guy looks extremely friendly! (He really looks like a squirrel too!) We made eye contact and interlocked fingers. Sandeul was the third person. I slightly only remember giving small interlock fingers with him. I couldn’t remember how Sandeul looked like except for smiling (I think he stood where there were no lights.) Moving on to CNU, by this time, I stop to interlock and slap his hands. (I might’ve done that to Sandeul too.) Then Jin Young and his booming music. (I think I got disturbed by Jinyoung's music. Erg...that leader. LOL.) The entire time, I only said, "Thank you.” It was a flash. I knew I could have slowed down but it was better than nothing.

They are all really cute kids and handsome ones. They are so enthusiastic about everything too! The stage and all - they killed it and it was a total live tonight. Love this experience! The fans are the best element in this concert too!!

Also, applaud to their production staffs! The lighting was amazing! Every time B1A4 wanted us to sing, the stage lights will shine toward us. Naturally, as audiences, we know that the light means that we are also included into this show and it’s just not about those on stage. It was a really cool way to tell us that it was time for interaction. (Breaking that fourth wall!)

Overall, a beautiful night. Loud cheers from left to right, top to bottom. Bright lights that made my heart shine because we can see each other clearly. Songs were even better in live than the audio. B1A4 and BANAs made it happen together! One of the BEST moment in 2017!!

#B1A4 #Concert #Live Space 2017 #4 Nights in the US #SF #San Francisco #Fan Account #Experiences #2017 #Make Every Moment Count #Thankful

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