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i-see-you-now-you-see-me · 3 years

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Unintentional Coincidence /// Hungry for You

(oneshot/ DYVLONY series, can be read separately)

Pairing: Wayv (NCT) YangYang x Reader (you)

Word count: approx 7k (a long one, i know)

Warnings: smut, blood, violence, drugs usage (the reader get drugged), mention of prostitution, smuty smuttttttttttttttt

A/N: i had to do it though, had this idea in my head and there it is, enjoy

*10043567901;1102033149001. PLANET DYVLONY*

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

* 48 hours before *

-She attacked me in my own home?! She is not human or alien, she is a monster, - Mr. Gibbs talked, while court magistrate Dejun listened.

-What happened after?

-When she beat me up, I saw her run through the door and that was it, called you straight away!

-Thank you for your time, we will find her ASAP, - Xiaojun spoke.

After Mr. Gibbs had left the building, Dejun dialed Ten’s number.

-We got a problem, - were his first words when the call connected.

-Is everything alright?

-Can you come to High court quarters? I will get someone to greet you when you come.

-I am on my way, - detective Ten spoke.

Minutes later, Ten was going down in the elevator, meeting Xiao Dejun by the door. Walking in silent room, where no one would disturb, they sat down. Xiaojun pulled out a file. Throwing pictures on the table, he sighed.

-She did this, - he said, - number two beat the crap out of Mr. Gibbs and ran. Look at the pictures Ten, tell me what do you think?

Ten was eyeing them carefully not to miss anything. He let out an approval breath.

-There is something not right, - detective said, - when we did the tests on girls none of them were aggressive, there is something more, also, I didn’t hear that she would have tried to escape when Gibbs collected her.

-Exactly, - Dejun spoke, - I think he might have done something to trigger her, that’s why she did this.

Ten nodded. None of the humans were aggressive, no disturbing behavior was seen, nor any they had heard of. Anna was perfect in every way, and Ten’s wife was pulling his strings on purpose, but not like this.

-I will get my team on it straight away, - Ten spoke. Xiao nodded.

-We cannot, - he sighed, - since about humans no one really knows, we cannot have more exposure to what is already out there. I must say, you should do this on your own, mind that, I will help you.

-Ok, we start with surveillance footage by Gibbs’ house, and see where we go from there.

-Yes, let’s do that.

Both of them were soon in a car, driving towards Gibbs’ house, uneasy feeling in Ten’s gut. He was sure Gibbs hurt the girl, and if he was right, surveillance will be useless, either way deleted or, he will hear another of – it must have broken down, I didn’t know - this bullshit.

-How come you are here? – Mr. Gibbs asked.

-We are here to check if we could see your surveillance recordings, I am Detective Ten by the way.

-I know who you are, - he stepped aside, - be my guest.

Leading them through corridor, soon they had reached the camera surveillance room. As a scientist, Mr. Gibbs had the newest technology, including cameras, speaker phones, all sorts of gears, that no one yet would be able to purchase.

Showing the first video, where you ran, into his back garden and then through the bushes, Ten was ready to push some buttons. He turned to face Gibbs.

-And the other footage?

-What are you referring to? – Gibbs asked.

-Where she beats you up?

Mr. Gibbs pulled another video, where it was clear, that you went fully ballistic on him. Kicking him in the balls first, then stomach, then his back with your elbow, until he was on the ground and you kept on kicking.

-And before this?

-What? – Mr. Gibbs felt offended. – what are you after detective?

-Just doing my work, - Ten said back, - if you are liable to information that could help us, it is your job as our citizen to provide us with it. If you fail to do so, we can ask the judge at the high court to write a legal document for it, or, if you won’t cooperate, ask for a lawyer, we can ask for a search warrant.

Ten was right, truth to be told, if Gibbs had nothing to hide, why just not show them. End of story. Gibbs bit his cheek. He knew Ten could be very pushing towards his goal, so he obliged. Playing another video, your body was attached to some system, and clearly Mr. Gibbs was experimenting on you.

-Sir, - Xiaojun spoke, - have you been experimenting on a human being, that you were supposed to keep safe and teach our ways?

Gibbs grit his teeth. He hated this.

-You have no proof!? – he nearly shouted.

-This is enough proof to be showed in a court, - Ten said. – if you tell us now, we might ask for a gentler punishment for you.

Gibbs stayed quiet. An hour later all of his camera footage, since the day you were brought to his home, was taken by police task forces, Xiaojun and Ten collecting evidence of experimenting, as well as trying to get more info as to where you might have gone.

24h later, Detective Ten and a search party had looked at any possible place you could have gone. Unfortunately, it was pointless, nothing had been found. You had showed up in a couple of DYVLONY citizen cameras which are mainly located on the corners of small shops and businesses, but after that it’s like you vanished.

Ten had proposed the GYPE beach to be searched, but lack of money and resources, stopped that idea from happening. He was biting his knuckles now, 24 hours had passed, and still nothing? Ten felt responsible, since he was the one who helped to give all then girls home to live in.

-It’s my fault, - Ten said, - if I would have known!

-Listen, no, don’t do that, he is a public figure, we didn’t know, - Dejun tapped Ten’s shoulder. – but we can find her, or try, like we are doing right now.

-I know, - he sighed, it had been a long day. All Ten wanted to do was go home to his wife and sink between her soft thighs.

-Go home, Ten, we’ll continue tomorrow.

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways. Ten had a feeling that when the morning comes, they will not be able to find the girl, and they will have to let her go.

*Morning after, 36 hours into the search*

-We have lost her, - an officer spoke.

Ten grabbed his hair in frustration. Xiaojun was banging his head against the search board. He sighed.

-We do have one option, - he said in a low voice. Ten looked up.

-What do you mean? – Ten asked.

-You know, - Xiaojun whispered.

-No, - Ten said, - I… I don’t think it’s a good idea.

-I know, but what choice do we have, he might be the only chance we got!

Deep down Ten knew, that Xiao was right, but that was a step he was not ready to take.

*48 hours search/// Lost case, file missing*

-I wish this was a road trip, - Ten spoke. Xiao was driving.

-I know, - he said, - if we would be able to get him to find her for us, that would be perfect. But I have heard many things, and I don’t think that’s how it will go.

-You are right, - once stopped, they both stepped out of the vehicle, Ten putting on a police vest, arming himself with guns that contained silver bullets and were made from silver too. Xiao made sure his silver bracelets are visible as well as a gun, that was secured around his hips.

-Ok, let’s do this, - Dejun took number 2 portfolio with him, to be presented, if needed.

Knocking on the door later on, no one answered. Ten proposed they would go around his house, search for him there. Since it was outskirts of town, there was no one around, but the beautiful nature that surrounded the place.

Taking a turn to go deeper into the back garden, Ten followed Xiao. There he was. Standing by a violet chrysanthemum, hands behind his back, head focused on the flowers, but eyes closed, listening.

-Excuse me, sir, - Ten started, - no one opened the door, so we came to look for you.

The person didn’t turn around, just chuckled.

-Sir, we were wondering… if you would… - Xiao didn’t finish the sentence, when the person turned around. His eyes were red, lips paler than normally, his fangs showing.

-Ah, you were wondering… - he laughed in their faces.

Ten loaded his gun, pointing it directly at the predator. Liu Yangyang, an immortal being, that has the ability to be reborn again, was the ultimate killer if he wanted to be. The best huntsman there was. His thirst is the only thing that keeps him out here, if he would make it to town, all of them would be dead.

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

-We have a missing persons case, - Ten said, - we cannot find her and… - he didn’t finish, Yangyang looked hooked.

-It’s “her”? – he asked.

Ten looked confused.

-What is the matter? What does that do with anything…? – Ten arched a brow. Xiao felt saliva in his throat being stuck, he had a feeling this would not go well.

Ten was pressed against a column in Yangyang’s garden, by the neck within seconds.

-Why do you look for “her”? – Yangyang licked his fangs.

-I can show you why, - Xiao came closer, - she beat up one of our community members.

Liar.

-No, no, - Yangyang whispered. – you search for her because she is not guilty.

He let go of Ten, who fell to the ground coughing. The file that was in Xiao’s hands was snatched away, Yangyang’s eyes widening in seeing photos.

-So, will you help us? – Ten asked, Yangyang tsked.

-I will, - he said, Xiaojun and Ten looked at each other almost saying “this was easier than we thought”, until, - but when I find her, SHE IS MINE.

-What? No, we cannot, - Xiao was speechless, Yangyang had him by his neck.

-No, no, you listen, - Yangyang spoke, - you came for help, I am helping, and in return, you are willing to give me this “human” to feast on, I do not think it is that bad. You have your missing persons case closed, and I will have a plaything.

Yangyang bit his lip, closing his eyes, when some blood dripped down his lips, licking it up, his face lit up.

-I can almost taste her.

If it wasn’t for Xiao carrying a blood sample, they would think Yangyang is mental. Xiao took out the small ampoule with your blood and handed it over to the predator.

-You’ve done your research, - Yangyang said, - I am impressed. So what’s it gonna be? You both dying here or me having the girl, you choose.

Ten looked at Xiao once again. Understanding that there is nothing else nor a better option, nor they were willing to die, they both nodded.

-Excellent, - Yangyang smiled, walking away back to his starting point by the flowers.

When he heard them both leave, Yangyang went inside his home, sat down on his bed. The blood sample ampule was burning his palm. He again licked his lips, took of his long robe and shirt, made himself more comfortable on the bed. Opening the sample carefully he opened his mouth to stuck out his tongue. A simple drop of blood touched his tastebuds.

Yangyang breathed in and out slowly. Ampoule was closed and put aside and Yangyang felt a hot fire burn him throughout his body cells. A taste he tried first time, and a taste he would never forget. Yours.

His member twitched in his trousers, Yangyangs fangs dropped down even further, it would only happen if he was to attack someone, or during a high pleasure moment, such as this. His hand reached inside his pants, stroking his cock with eyes closed, he was already picturing you in front of him. Building up his own orgasm, since he was now in a hurry to find you, Yangyang used his super speed, jacking himself off, shots of cum was now painted on his stomach and hand, dripping down his thighs. Fuck.

“I don’t have time for this”, he thought to himself and went to have a quick shower and dress up.

Not knowing how to dress yet, Yangyang put on a simple clothing to blend in with the DYVLONY, the only thing hard to mask was his fangs. He used makeup to cover his face, he redness around his eyes and his lips that would change to different tones depending on the situation.

The more blood he craved the redder his lips became.

He was using transport. How odd for him. His own car felt strange, since he would rarely leave his house, all he needed was there. Driving to town was simple, fast, he sped through the traffic, leaving his car near the High court. The senses overwhelmed him when he stepped out of the vehicle.

He smelled her. You. It seemed like you had just gone past a couple of minutes ago. Yangyangs ability to track and trace someone was based on their belongings and blood, then he would picture where the person had gone.

Fast as a lightening, he was inside the court and out, nobody noticing that he even was there. He went to a house, smelling you on the way. Sneaking inside the house he was searching, then he heard a noise.

-Who the fuck are you?! – someone shouted, and he turned around. A girl greeted him with a pan in her hands. – answer me or I’ll use this!

Yangyang started to laugh. He pushed the girl against the closest door frame, his nose bumping against her neck, breathing in the scent. His fangs scraped the skin.

-Don’t hurt me, - she whispered, Yangyang looked at her, - I am pregnant.

Yangyang stepped back, feeling a barrel of a gun pressed against his skull.

-What are you doing here? – Ten asked, Yangyang turned around.

-Hello there, Detective, - Yangyang started, - the blood sample you gave me, led me to her.

-They are the same species, - Ten said back, - of course there is something similar, but she is not her. This is my wife, - Ten pointed at his S/O, - we would appreciate if you would leave now.

Yangyang nodded and with that he was gone.

Street after a street, and Yangyang felt your essence again. This time it was clear that it was you. A dying neighborhood. You might have tried to hide here, and then he felt a familiar sweet scent. DYVLONY perfume, and he knows only one person who has worn the same one for many, many years.

So, he knew, he had to do what he does best in a situation like this. Kill everyone.

He dressed up as a student, round glasses on his eyes, hair brushed back, even a couple of books in his hands to make it more believable. He felt it being harder to conceal his red eyes, he knew it meant that he would soon hibernate. A couple of streets away, he walked through a massive warehouse, it was empty, he walked further inside, till he reached a room by the far exit of the building. “EXIT” was burning bright red, so they were opened.

Yangyang opened the door and stepped through. Walking down the stairs, he heard voices, he was getting closer to his main goal.

The most popular brothel on DYVLONY was here. Hidden under the massive warehouse, it was filled with people having fun in each other’s company, having a laugh, a drink, and some fun on the way.

Yangyang reached the receptionist.

-No under eighteens’ here, - she announced, Yangyang pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

-I am eighteen, - he said, - just turned! I got ID if you want.

He really played well this character. Cute boy, no one would ever notice.

-Very well then, how can I help you? – the receptionist asked.

-I want to have some fun, - Yangyang said. – but I would like something different, something fresh, you know like… something extraordinary… I can pay for it…

He smiled without his teeth. His fangs were *this close* to poking out and snapping her neck, if she wouldn’t give him what he desired. He presented a card together with his ID.

-I don’t know what you are after, - the receptionist said, a knock on the door behind her made Yangyang squint his eyes. Another girl walked through.

-The evening auction is about to start, we don’t take no new customers at this time, - she announced.

-It’s a pity, but you won’t have a choice, - Yangyang sped around the table, knocking both ladies out, walking through the door. To everybody else he just looked like a schoolboy who probably came to lose his virginity, but to Yangyang everyone else was just a bag of bones, and he would have great fun soon.

A lady spoke.

-We have a special offer, - she smiled, there behind her back on a post, were seven women, and Yangyang recognized you immediately. – but only for the owner of the biggest dick.

It looked like everyone was near to fishing out their cocks, and Yangyang sighed. Then the DYVLONY lady walked towards you, it was clear to Yangyang that you were on some kind of sedative, your pupils were too dilated to be on normal sex drugs, not unless they still been using the ones who have been forbidden since dark ages.

-This is the tightest pussy we can offer, but only for the one and only, - Yangyang licked his lips.

-How do we know? – Yangyang shouted from the far back. – how do we know she is the tightest?

A man next to him snorted “how would you know what that means, boy”, and Yangyang held it in.

-Do you have the biggest dick to test that? – DYVLONY lady nearly laughed in his face. Your relaxed form on the stage opened your legs wider, your pussy on display, for everyone to see. Man whistled and some groaned seeing your parted legs and the treasure between them.

-No, - Yangyang said, - but I have the biggest fangs out of you all.

Before anyone could react, Yangyang ran down every isle, snapping necks of all the horny motherfuckers who eyed your cunt. The ladies shrieked, running away as fast as they could. Yangyang was on the stage, taking your almost limp, naked body in his arms. From afar a knocking sound seemed to be getting closer.

Another door from the side opened and a lady with a walking stick walked out.

-Liu Yangyang, - she shouted. – You have no right to be here and do this!

The DYVLONY lady was in her 80s, walking stick helping her up, her face angry. Two bodyguards were with her, both looking ready to fight.

-You don’t have a right to steal people from the streets and sell into prostitution either, but here we are, - he said matter-of-factly.

-You are banned from this house, - she said, - many, many centuries ago you were, and now again you strike to displease me, if it wasn’t for my fourth-generation ancestor carrying a baby, I might not have been here, because you killed them all! Your bloodlust and addiction got the worst of you, and you killed innocent men and women, Liu Yangyang, you have no right to judge or touch any of us!

-I am not sorry, nor have I ever been, but this here, - he looked down on you, - is mine. If you wish call the police and ask, add killing these bastards and I will sit in the prison, until I am reborn again, and do this again if I have to.

He carried you towards the exit, not looking back at the anger filled brothel owner. She was fuming. Once out and away from the brothel, Yangyang stripped of his student shirt and put it around you, to cover at least your naked butt. All of the sudden your hand touched his cheek.

-Fuck me, - you lazily spoke, drool forming on the corners of your mouth, it was the drugs talking, and you slapped his face, taking Yangyang by surprise, - fuck the living shit out of me, my pussy hurts daddy, do it all to me…

Your voice broke into a moan like breaths, moaning heavy against his face. You leaned closer to him, your tongue out first to taste his lips.

-I am your cum slut, use me as you want, - you groaned again.

-Nope, not yet, - Yangyang said walking towards his car. – once you are out of that shit, we’ll have a talk.

Bed creaked under your movements, as Yangyang tried to press your body back down on the bed. You were fisting the bed sheets, moaning, sweat forming on your forehead, nipples pressed through the clothing Yangyang provided you with.

Once in a while, he cleaned your forehead with a damp towel, the fever was going down, the drugs slowly, and I mean slowly leaving your system. Yangyang’s trousers tight as ever, watching you be in despair of your feelings, then he noticed your wet crotch. Your juices flowing in copious amounts, wetting the trousers on the way.

He then tied up your hands to the bed post, and removed the damp garment, lifting your ass up and putting a towel underneath.

-As much as I love a sight like this, - Yangyang sighed, looking at your entrance, - I am not an idiot nor a…- and then it hit him. Your smell, which he tried to ignore, suppressing it down to zero, in couple of seconds went up to thousand. His fangs plopped down, and animalistic growl left his lips. His eyes changed color and his lips became darker.

His lips attacked your cunt, tongue diving straight in your core, thirst taking over his mind. Slurping up your juices like mad man, Yangyang was lost, his tongue movements coaxing a scream from you. Grabbing onto your legs and pushing you towards him, he was drowning in your sex, his teeth scraping your skin, a bit of blood pouring, while he licked you up.

A pained expression left your mouth. You opened your eyes, your eye pupils becoming normal with every thrust of Yangyangs tongue, and probably because all the blood that had flowed down to your belly was leaving your system, where his fangs had bit you.

Then you felt it.

Your fear.

Where were you?

How did you get here?

What happened?

Did you manage to run away from that monster?

Tear escaped your eyes and instead of a moan leaving your lips, it was a sniffle of fear and shame and not understanding the situation you were in. The drugs were wearing off.

Yangyang heard this and looked up at you. Your teary eyes stared back at him, he looked down. Seeing your wounds from his fangs, he stepped away quickly.

-I’m sorry, this was not meant to happen, - he got on his knees, - I’m sorry, I’m sorry, - kept leaving his mouth, his own eyes shading his tears away. You saw his red eyes and cowered back closer to the bed post you were still attached to.

You cried. Whimpers leaving your mouth while you looked at him. Yangyang tried to shush you a bit, as he moved closer.

-I won’t hurt you, I promise, that was an accident, - he explained, - let me untie you first, ok?

You nodded. When he did untie you as promised, you kicked him in the chest and tried to run. Your wobbly legs didn’t let you get far, you were scooped up in Yangyangs’ arms again anyway.

-Shhh, - he tried, - I will explain, give me a chance.

He held you by your waist as you sat on his bed, you directly on top of him, sat in his lap. You were trembling.

-Police was looking for you, - he started, you relaxed a little bit, - when you ran, you must have ben exhausted, because someone had found you. An owner of a brothel had found you and you were drugged. I am sorry for touching you like that, I didn’t mean to. Not while you were on drugs.

-Drugs? – you re-asked.

-Yes, drugs that make you ache for pleasure of sex, makes you uncontrollable, your desires or sexual references on display.

-How do you know?

-Well…

*Long, long time ago*

-Ladies and gentlemen, - a female spoke, she was wearing a see-through night gown that was down to her ankles. – today, we introduce you to a beast. Beast of pleasure!

The curtain that concealed the make-shift stage was pulled down, revealing a naked Yangyang, his cock standing proud against his stomach, tip of his penis embellished with a piercing of a pearl.

-Ladies, since the night is all about you, he is yours, only for a dozen dyvo (DYVLONY currency).

She then walked over to Yangyang, pressing a cup to his lips, making him drink the liquid, his fangs were out, but he was clueless to what was happening to him. When the first woman approached him and sank down on his cock, starting a rhythm. Once he realized his purpose was fucking whoever was on top of him, Yangyang used his superspeed to get them off. Once orgasmed, completely fucked out from the act, the woman was helped down, she would not be able to walk straight or walk in general.

Yangyangs cock then would be cleaned down, and then the next one would take place. Since his metabolism burned faster, the more he used his strength, the more drugs he was provided with in the alcoholic drink that was handed to him near enough after a couple of hours.

The body count kept on growing, and as the night moved on, Yangyang felt burn in his chest. It was getting harder to breath, all he could focus on was the wet cunts and squelching noises, that at once started to ring loudly in his ears. Then he started to vibrate, and suddenly, his body exploded, killing the lady who was on top of him. Blood spluttering everywhere it was a sight that was hard to forget.

Exactly thirteen hours after the incident, in the mountains a group of men were enjoying a drink, while they lit up a firepit, ashes were still burning hot when a poof happened. In the middle of the ashes was a naked young man, shivering. The men helped him up, giving him a spare clothing, Yangyangs eyes burned red, fangs showing, as he sunk his teeth in the first victim after his rebirth. He killed them all, until he realized what had happened before, his memories flooding his mind.

When he walked through the makeshift door in the brothel, ladies who recognized him tried to run, the men however were ready to kick his guts. A young maiden stood at the end, Yangyang knew she was the performer who gave him those drugs that killed him. On his way, Yangyang teared limbs of DYVLONY coming for him, snapped necks of women and men, ripping throats out till he reached the lady.

-How are you here? – she asked, Yangyang didn’t respond but his teeth painfully sunk in her neck, she kept on kicking and punching him, screaming, - I have a child!

Yangyang stopped.

-I have a child in me!!! – she screamed, and Yangyang let go of her. She dropped to the floor, - now you have done it! You have had your revenge! You are not welcome here, leave and never come back! I therefore announce you to be banned from this place forever!

Yangyang stood back, turning around, seeing his victims, all of them dead in front of his eyes. He ran as fast as he could, but he ended up in the place he was reborn. The firepit only consisting of ashes. He touched them and cried.

What had they done to him?

Years later, Yangyang had built a home there, the firepit was near enough an altar for him to reborn into again, if/when he dies. A secret room on the ground floor, a room of rebirth.

-They would have used you while you couldn’t anymore, - Yangyang spoke softly, you nodded, - come on.

He then led you to the bathroom, helping you strip from the shirt, since your lower half was naked, starting a tap for the bathtub, helping you in. You still felt the effect from the drugs, in between your legs, your juices still pooling your lower lips.

-When does this stop? – you asked.

-Should be a couple more hours maybe, - Yangyang himself had used a drug on a lover of his before. He was so horny that he needed to dick down someone, later it turned to forty-six-hour sex with no breaks, constantly pounding his partner, who wasn’t able to speak, just drool in the covers.

He had not used that ever again.

-I… - you started, - I am a fugitive, I escaped from… my guardian.

-I know, - he said, - I also know you were not guilty of whatever crime you committed.

You nodded, bathtub was now full, and Yangyang helped you clean up, at that moment it felt like he was your boyfriend.

-Who are you? – you softly asked since he seemed to be opened to a conversation.

-I have classed myself as a vampire.

-A vampire? – you re-asked and he nodded. – then the red eyes make sense, - you let out a giggle, - and the lips.

You looked at him and Yangyang stared back at you. He swallowed and you looked away. His fangs were visible, but it didn’t scare you, also, you were naked, but you felt no shame. You had been examined before, when you first got on this planet, when they took you lab, did some tests, gave you a vaccine and a chip, all that time you had no clothing, till they gave you a onesie to wear.

Nakedness didn’t feel like anything anymore. It didn’t give you the blush to your face either, and you felt a rush coming to you. Memories flooded your brain, nothing significant, just a few things with hooded eyes, something that you must have said.

“Cum slut”, you went shades of tomato straight away. What the fuck?!

-Are you ok, - Yangyang asked, - you just went all…

-Uhm, - you turned the other way, facing the wall.

Who did you say this to? You were closing your eyes to remember. The boyish jawline, the glasses, ruffled hair, your hand on his cheek, you looked back at Yangyang.

Shit.

That was him.

-What is it?

You hid your face with your palms.

-I remember, - you said, and Yangyang looked confused, but your hidden face caught up with his mind.

-Ah, I see, - he laughed, - so, you don’t want me to fuck you that bad huh?

You didn’t look up either. This was embarrassing, on today’s episode of how fucked up is this, that’s fucked up, that’s exactly what it felt like. Yangyangs laugh rang through the bathroom.

-I’m sorry, - he said, - I know it’s not funny, but your reaction is just too cute.

You looked back at him.

-Cute? – you asked, Yangyang stood up taking a towel, you got up and he wrapped you in it, helping you out of the tub, walking you back to the room. He didn’t let you sit down on the bed, he just made sure you sat on the chair, dried yourself of, while he took of covers from the bed, put new ones on. It felt almost homey. – What are you going to do to me?

Your voice small, when asking this. Yangyang stopped what he was doing. Detective Ten and Magistrate Xiao probably thought that you would be sucking his dick about now, but Yangyang wasn’t sure himself anymore. The situation was scary, even for him. He would love to pound you into the mattress, of course, no question about it, but that would have to wait for now.

-I thought when I find you, I will play with you, bite you, drink from you, have sex with you, and all that over again…

-So… why don’t you? – your voice quiet. Yangyang stared you down and walked over. When eye-level with you, he smiled, his fangs showing, he licked them while you stared at him. Your eyes wide. Yangyang waited for a different reaction.

-I don’t know, - he finally said. – you still could be having effect from sedative, not unless you want to be my cum slut.

With that he cracked up, and you hid your face, leaning down, pressing your face against your knees.

-I cannot believe I said that, - you still hid, - I am not like that.

-And how exactly are you?

Yangyang was next to you again, his super speed not scaring you at all. He was on his knees listening to what you were about to say. Reaching to cup your face in his hands, he made sure you made eye contact. You bit your lip and tried to look somewhere else. He let out a breath.

-I am, well, - you started, and then there it was, your lips on his. Yangyang didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop, if what he led you on even more, grabbing onto your towel. Kiss was gentle and the type you would want to have with your future partner.

For some unknown reason, it felt right in all of the wrong ways. He was an alien, more so- a vampire alien, but you were an alien too. There was no rights or wrongs in a situation like this. The kiss got more heated when Yangyang pulled apart your towel, baring your body to him. He drank in the sight of you.

-I want to make all of this mine, - he stated, pulling you up on your feet, he pushed you towards his bed. Touching your hair, your waist, your hips, butt cheeks, hoisting your leg up to his hips, - inch by inch, mine and no one else’s.

-I’m yours, - you nodded and gave into his hot mouth again. His kisses and touches seemed to be everywhere, he pushed you onto the bed, lips traveling down to your breasts, sucking on a nipple, and then on the other one, he looked up at you.

-Can I bite you? – he asked, you watched him and nodded, you were up to this. To being his. He chose a spot just above your breasts, kissed the spot, and then slowly let his fangs sink in, piercing the skin, earning a yelp from you. Once bitten, he licked up the wound, that healed immediately, and returned to pleasing you again. His hands traveled between your legs, touching the soft skin, the shortly cut pubic hair, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering the slick with his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean.

Then his mouth was on yours, his body making way to your parted legs. You felt the bulge of his trousers rubbing directly at your clit and moaned in satisfaction, your hand reached for him through his pants.

-Take them off, - you said, - take it all off.

Once naked, he was on top of you again, but you spun him around. He was lying on his back and you were hovering above him. You kissed down his chest, his lean stomach, your hand grabbing his cock, slowly palming him. Yangyang touched your hair, moving it to the side so he could see your face. Licking the tip of his dick, you swirled your tongue around it, your hand pulling the skin, the wetness of your mouth coating his member, so your hand could slide up and down.

-So… gentle… - he whispered, his hands reached for you as he sat up, turning your bum towards his face, he pushed your legs apart and positioned himself between them, your aching pussy over his face. You didn’t stop pleasuring him though, your mouth still sucking and hollowing your cheeks, as much as you could before choking, since you haven’t done that much before. Yangyangs’ hands held your hips and legs strongly, pushing you down on his face. You moaned out, letting go of his cock when you felt his tongue between your pussy lips. Sucking one into his mouth and then another, then licking you up and down, near your asshole, then sucking your clitoris. You returned to your own job, licking the underside of his cock, the thick veins, down to his balls, sucking on them, while your fist moved up and down.

Your orgasm was approaching, and you tried to move from Yangyangs grasp.

-I don’t want to come, - you stated, and he let go. You turned around, kissing him again. You were about to turn around, when he spoke.

-I want to see you as I claim you.

Hot kisses returned to your skin, and you were pushed on your back, your hand guiding his member through your folds, to your entrance, as he filled you up slowly. The stretch was a bit painful, your walls fluttering around him, to accommodate his length, you had to wait a bit longer. Yangyang kissed your chest, not moving till you would give him a green light. As soon as you nodded, he pulled out just a bit and gave a short thrust, just to do that again, your legs went around his body, tangled up, while your toes curled from the pleasure.

Short thrusts were his game, short and fast, but your pulsing cunt sucking him in from time to time stopped his movements. He gave you a look.

-What is this? – he asked jokingly, - what do you need, baby…

The nickname he gave you put a smile to your lips.

-Deeper, - were the only word.

-Your wish is my command, - he kissed you once more, and you were rewarded with a rich, deep thrust up to your cervix. Yangyang pulled out and did the same again. – let’s make it more exciting, shall we?

You nodded.

You weren’t prepared.

His super strength and speed, had you taken aback, then you felt what it meant – to be pounded into the mattress, an orgasm reached you and you cried out, never had you had an orgasm from vaginal sex only, but somehow this was different. Your senses overwhelmed, Yangyang’s movements not slowing down, your core clenching down on him, while he was nipping on your earlobe, biting it to draw blood.

The next thing you knew, you were up against the wall, hoisted to his waist, as he entered you again, this time, he was moving in humanly speed, lazily filling you over and over again. Your head against the wall, your moans filling the room, he was vocal as well, besides the grunts and groans, and silent words like “this pussy is mine”, he had dangerously “tasty” moans, at some point his hips went stuttering, and his voice got a bit raspy, as he came, giving you couple more strong thrusts, his sperm coating your walls, and dripping down your legs, he had much of it to give you.

You were on the bed again, your legs spread wide, and Yanyangs tongue diving in your mound again. His hot lips sucked on your clit, turning you into a frenzy of moans, his hand pressed down a bit on your womanhood and you reached your high, his lips not leaving your entrance before he had licked every drop up.

Your breathing was heavy, as you came down from your second orgasm, and Yangyang plopped next to you. Then he felt a pang in his heart. The ache unbearable.

-Oh no, - he moaned out, you got up to help him.

-What’s the matter?

He couldn’t speak, his breath coming out short, sharpened, his skin boiling, he squeezed out last words.

-Wait… for… me…

The unexpected happened. In front of your eyes, his body boiled up and exploded, covering you red from head to toe. Your scream leaving your mouth, eyes widening in shock. You got of the bed and onto the ground, tears in your eyes.

Your cries the only thing to leave your lips.

Somehow you ended up falling asleep hugging your knees, not being able to stand up and do anything from the experience. What felt like a day later, you heard rustling from somewhere. Your eyes widened. Who was in the house?

The door creaked open, a figure walked in, approaching you on the ground, covered in dust, while you were still filthy from the blood.

-Waited long? – you finally looked up. To your surprise Yangyang was staring back at you.

-Oh my… - you reached for him, hugging his body, crying again.

-I told you to wait, didn’t I? – you nodded into his shoulder.

-Let’s get cleaned up, yeah? – he pulled you both up, - don’t worry, babe, it won’t happen for at least twenty more years now.

You could only nod.

Maybe you were meant to escape a monster only to be in the arms of a predator, some people are just meant for unintentional coincidences. Universe has its own way of sorting things out, and maybe this was it. His universe became yours.

#wayv yangyang #wayv smut #wayv yangyang smut #wayv fanfic #nct wayv #nct yangyang #nct yangyang smut #yangyangsmut #liu yangyang #nct smut #nct fics #nct fan fic #nct imagine #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wayv yang yang #smut #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic

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phantaloon-books · 4 years

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(some) Riordanverse characters (bc I never read TKC) and which Hogwarts House I think they would be in

Warning: this is a long one

Nico: the dude is definitely Gryffindor without a doubt. Like Sorting isn't about some traits and some characteristics, it's about core personality. He may have gone through some of the roughest stuff when he was 10-12, and he was resentful and bitter, but he was brave and bold af throughout everything he did. From learning about his powers, to using them relentlessly despite knowing how exhausted he is afterwards, to his willingness to do whatever is necessary to do what has to be done, because it has to be done. You can't change my mind that he's Gryffindor lol.

Grover: Do I even need to explain why he's Gryffindor? He's a satyr, and even if we're shown strong satyrs, they're not really supposed to be brave fighters. Yet he is one of the strongest, bravest nature spirits we've ever encountered in the Riordanverse, and one of the bravest in general. Like he's so passionate about doing what is good, he's a hero, and the only thing he doesn't match with common Gryffindors is that he's humble and as far from arrogant as could be possible, but it doesn't take his courage away.

Hazel: She's Gryffindor, and core personality-wise, she and Nico are very much alike. They don't ever think about themselves, like Hazel really always does what has to be done, no matter the cost, I mean she literally died preventing Gaea to rise the first time, and she freed Thanatos while believing he would take her back to the Underworld. She's brave af, and she has one of the most strong willpower we've seen in the Riordanverse. She's a passionate hero, and she's the closest thing to a real knight in shining armor.

Lester: I'm gonna place him in Gryffindor because I don't think he fits in in the other houses lmao. That said, as Apollo he's very shitty, but as Lester, he's one of the most courageous people. He's grown so much, he's so willing to actually do stuff now, and sacrifice everything to do what's right, including his life, even if he doesn't know he's gonna survive. Hell, he really went most of TTT with an incredibly painful wound that nearly turned him undead, and he cared more for the future of Camp Jupiter than his own life. Additionally, he's a bit arrogant and cocky, but he truly means well, I love Lester so much.

Clarisse: Look look, all I have to say is that no one could have pulled off less than half the stuff Clarisse has done, she's so Gryffindor it hurts. She's reckless and impulsive, but she's driven by her passion to do good, even if she's the daughter of war, and was bullied by her own father. She's daring, she's bold and she is the hero. She's also arrogant and thinks she can solve everything by herself, something characteristic more of the canon Gryffindors in the books, rather than what the fans have shaped. In fact, she's very much like Gryffindors in the books, who are actually very rude to other houses and think they're the best. Still, at heart, she's in this house.

Alex: I'm in a huge dilemma about where to put them, but I reckon they'd fit pretty fine in Gryffindor. Not only are they daring and courageous, they're proud of who they are, but not in a too full of themselves kind of way, rather in a 'I am who I am, and if you can't accept me, fuck off' kind of way. They can get carried away rather easily though, and very arrogant, thinking they don't need anyone else, when they do in fact need some company. They are one of the kindest and at the same time most ambitious characters we've met, but they are brave beyond understanding in a very personal way, thus, Gryffindor.

Percy: I think it's fair to say he'd be Hufflepuff, because loyalty is literally his fucking fatal flaw, and he is the kindest sweetheart to all those who deserve it, he goes out of his way to help those who need help, whether that be mortals, halfbloods, gods, magical creatures or even his own enemies. He's too good for this world, and even if he's grown a bit bitter, he always looks to fight justly for what is right, and never loses faith in others. That, and the fact that he turned down immortality so that the olympians were more inclusive of minor gods, and their children were treated better. He's just a lovely soul, he's like 80% Hufflepuff so that's enough for me. All that and he's stubborn as hell.

Jason: Hufflepuff. Just, undoubtedly Hufflepuff. Like he seems to be this cold and self centered hero with a superiority complex (bc of all the son of Jupiter stuff) but he's the softest guy there is. Not only is he hardworking, open minded and kind, he appreciates justice but he doesn't seek for revenge or anything, he makes sure people are treated fairly and wants everyone to be accepted. Proof of that is how he continued Percy's job of including more gods, and made sure Nico felt comfortable with who he was. He truly has a heart of gold. (He deserved better btw)

Meg: God I can't decide between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but I think I'll go with the former. She's so strong, my baby, she's faced so much wrong, but she's still so kind and understanding of others, especially those who deserve kindness. She puts up such a hard facade, but she's so patient and warm and inclusive. She's brave and strong (as strong as the big three kids, if not stronger), but she's also so loyal to her beliefs despite how she was forced someone else's beliefs for years, so I'll keep her in Hufflepuff. Also, she's stubborn af, and she can be lazy, so that settles it.

Will: I KNOW some people will say Will could be in other houses that are not Hufflepuff, BUT I won't have it any other way. Will is literally the warmest person ever. He is kind and sympathetic and enthusiastic and patient and inclusive. Like Helga Hufflepuff would take one look at him and lose her shit screaming "mine". He's the guy who saw the son of Hades so many people were scared of and immediately grabbed his hand and transfered him some warmth and didn't let him go ahead and get himself killed. He's also the one who everyone loves and likes, so much that Clarisse gets along with him and he can calm her down. He's the ideal Hufflepuff, you can't change my mind.

Magnus: I mean, what else can you expect from the son of the god of summer? He's literally a guy who heals others with warmth. He's also the guy who spent years on the street with the most difficult situations, and accepts every single person the way they are. He's inclusive af, and tolerant of everything. He's the guy who's closest include a deaf elf, a Muslim valkyrie, and a black dwarf, and he's dating a genderfluid person. Yes he's brave, and he's kinda smart, and he's ambitious, BUT none of those qualities overpower his Hufflepuff nature.

Piper: Kinda debated whether Gryffindor or Ravenclaw fits more, but in the end I went with Ravenclaw. Even though she isn't a fighter, she's very very brave, yet her bravery isn't compared to her wits. Like others in the PJOverse, she wins her fights by outsmarting her opponents, but unlike others that's one of her strongest traits. She's witty and creative and a little on the negative side, she really struggled to work in a group rather than by herself. On another note, she's able to keep calm in crazy situations and come up with the craziest most unthinkable solutions (I'm talking borderline ridiculous) that always somehow work. She's not booksmart, but she knows so much about everything, and she's lifesmart you know?

Reyna: Why are some of these so hard? Deeply debating whether she'd be Ravenclaw or Slytherin. In the end I'd go more for Ravenclaw though. Reyna's smart as hell, she's strong and sharp, and she always sees the best way out of a situation. She's witty and observant, being able to keep her cool in battle and lead others in the best direction. She's always looking to grow, and she prefers to do things on her own, but she's a great leader. She has some Slytherin qualities, and she's not learning as learning oriented as others, but she's definitely Ravenclaw.

Sam: Let's face it, Sam has the only active neurons in all of MCGA, she's definitely Ravenclaw. I'm gonna be honest though, I've only read MCGA once, so I can't remember much of their personalities, but Sam is witty and clever, pretty much the only one who can come up with competent plans, while the others rely mostly on luck and whatever plan they can cook up in 5 seconds. She's loyal and true to who she is, and she's extremely courageous and proud of who she is, but her sharpness is what she stands out for me, which is why I put her in Ravenclaw.

Annabeth: I know the obvious option is Ravenclaw, but I genuinely think she's also Slytherin. Yes she is booksmart and wise like Ravenclaw, but her personality matches Slytherins' ambitious, cunning and resourceful nature. She's smart as fuck, but she's calculative, she always finds a way to end up winning, and while she does so by outsmarting her opponents, she wouldn't need to outsmart them if she weren't so competitive. I feel like there's this 40/60 odds on Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw, but it's that small difference that counts. Plus her leadership skills are so powerful that people don't ask, they just know she's the boss.

(Also just picture the sweet and loyal Hufflepuff boy with the strong and cunning Slytherin girl, like it should be as opposite as it is with Poseidon and Athena, but they're so cute)

Leo: Idk what you can expect that's not Slytherin. This boy is the embodiment of ambition and determination. Reminder that not all Slytherins are bad btw (I'm slytherin myself), but like he's life smart and cunning, and he can analyze situations faster than anyone else. He's charismatic and talented, and there's no one to stop him from triumphing. I don't have much to say, I just know he'd be in Slytherin.

Rachel: She's kinda a difficult one, and I struggle between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and tbh I'm still not sure. But I think I'd place her in Slytherin, because even if she's brave af (especially since she was a mortal fighting in a war out of her power), her main trait is her determination. When she's set on something, she gets it done. You can't tell her she can't do something, because she will find a way to do it. She's kind, and she's only a mortal, but she still has incredible power unlike any other. I don't think I can really name it, but I think she'd be put on Slytherin with much difficulty from the Sorting Hat.

Luke: Where else could Luke possibly go? On the meaner side Slytherins have created themselves, Luke would be part of those misled by who preceded them, by those who want to take advantage of their mistreatment (bc let's face it, Slytherins are mistreated by both students and Hogwarts staff), and turn them cold and bitter. Luke is ambitious and manipulative, being manipulated himself, and it comes easily because of his natural charisma and talent. He's very freaking determined and cunning too. He'd fit right into Slytherin, but he'd be viewed as one of the rotten lot.

Thalia: I don't have much to say about this, but Thalia is the girl whose fatal flaw is their desire for power (or smth along those lines), just like most Slytherins. She's ambitious, she's smart, she's truly talented, she stands out between the rest, and she knows it, and she actually kinda likes it.

(Also I put Annabeth, Thalia and Luke in the same house because they're all kinda similar, even if their beliefs and postures are different.

Frank: Ngl I'm having more difficulty with Frank than anyone else. I'm kinda torn between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I literally can't choose. He'd fit perfectly in any of them lmao, I just can't decide where he'd go. You decide this one yourself.

Please keep in mind, this is my personal opinion and my take on the characters, and not all of you will agree, and that's fine! You can let me know what you think (kindly please, don't come at me), and if you want to, send me an ask on a character you want me to do the same as these (as long as it's not TKC, I'M SORRY I haven't read those) go ahead, don't be shy!

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mytwilightimagines13 · 3 years

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Life (Part Seven)

Masterlist Pet Masterlist Rules

Headcanon requests: Open Imagine requests: Closed Taglist: Open

Taglist: @aro-is-gay-af @vamp-army @raindancer2004 @like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @kpopgirlbtssvt @avyannadawn @alexavolturisblog @alecvolturiswifeforever @imaginetwilight2704 @develin13 @wallwriterstuff @volturiwolf

Everything was a blur. Bella was pregnant and seemed to fulfill a nine month pregnancy in just a month. Everyone was worried for Bella's health and ontop of that where the wolves whom where hostile against the Cullens. Maeve was mostly anmoyed by the fact that Bella brought herself and possible the coven in danger by keeping the fetus. Once the Volturi found out they would surely be on their way and rhat would mean the death of the Cullens. Carlisle walked into the livingroom with a cup filled woth human blood for Bella. Maeve held her breath trying very hard not to take the cup from Bella. Due the patrolling of the wolves around the house, none of the Cullens had been abke to hunt in a week making the burning in their throats grow fiercer by every minute. "Carlisle we need to hunt. Especially when Bella's baby is due." Maeve said. "You can't. The pack will rip you apart!" Jacob, Bella's werewolf friend, said. "Ans what if we bring Emmett with us? He will protect us." Esme said as her own thirst was growing too. "Maybe if Jacob can distract the wolves for a while? Long enough for us to get to Canada." Maeve suggested. Jacob sighed. "Very well then. I can try." And so Carlisle, Esme, Emmett and Maeve where running thriugh the forest to Canada. Maeve's throat was burning by the thought of the blood soothing her burning throat. A howl was heard and Maeve pushed herself to go even faster bit was tackled by a wolf. Maeve glared and tried to get him of but to no avail. The wolf tried biting Maeve het neck but was thrown off by Emmett. Maeve quickly got up and jumped over the creak crossing the border. The wolves growled at them but didn't jump knowing that they couldn't chase the four vampires anymore. Maeve quickly tackled down a grizzly bear and sunk her teeth into it's neck while the thick nectar soothed the burning pain in her throat. Maeve growled slightly as the bear was drained way to quick. Maeve dropped it and attacked another bear which seemed to be injured, but Maeve's thrist was still burning fiercly so there was no second thought spared before she sunk her teeth into this bear. Maeve feasted on as many animals as she could before they had to return again, but this time they took another route, hoping to avoid the werewolves. Once they reached their home the saw the werewolves attacking Edward, Jasper and Alice. Maeve growled and started atatcking Paul whom was about to rip Jasper's head off. Paul growled at Maeve and got ready to attack. "Bring it on." Maeve hissed at him. Paul growled even louder and started to attack but got pushed away by Emmett. Maeve tackled down another wolf until Jacob ran out of the house and the other wolves stopped attacking. "Jacob imprinted on Renesmee. The others can not hurt her. It is their most absolute law." Edward explained ad Sam growled slightly and took off, followed by the others from his pack. Maeve sighed in relief and got up. Everyone got inside to meet Renesmee. At first Maeve wasn't very thrilled to meet the child but in just a days time Renesmee had Maeve wrapped around her little finger. And finally after three days Bella's heart stopped beating, letting everyonw in tje house know that Bella was now one of them. A vampire. Bella and Edward went hunting while Jacob and Rosalie where arguing who would give Renesmee her bottle. Maeve rolled her eyes and continued reading her book letting them argue. Thankfully, Bella and Edward soon returned so that Maeve no longer had to listen to the bickering of Jacob and Rosalie. "Welcome home." Esme said towards Bella. Rosalie hands Bella Renesmee and imediately you can see the mother feelings Bella has for Renesmee while Renesmee shows Bella her gift. Maeve smiled at the scene. And then things went down as Bella found out that Jacob imprinted on Renesmee and nicknamed her Nessie. Maeve didn't really bother by going outside as she couldn't care less what would happen to Jacob. Renesmee was growing alot and everyone was gettong worried about her fate. What if she would grow quickly and die? Everyone had that thought in

mind the whole time but made sure Renesmee had everything she would need. Even Maeve. "Again auntie Maeve." Renesmee said. Maeve chuckled and held out her closed hand. "Lay your hand over it and think about a flower." Maeve said. Renesmee closed her eyes and thought. Maeve opened her eye and a beautifull pink and blue flower grew from the palm of her hand. Maeve grabbed it from her hand and tucked it behind Renesmee's ear. "Renesmee. Want to learn how to play the piano?" Edward asks. Renesmee smiles and runs to her father while Bella is pacing through the livingroom. "Irina didn't even stopped by. She just ran away." Bella said. "She is family. She'll come around." Carlisle said while placing his arm around Esme. However this happy little momenr was soon disturbed by Alice. Alice had a vision and dropped a vase wirh flowers. Jasper soon stood next to her. "They are coming here." Was all she said. Edward frowned. "Irina thinks Renesmee is an immortal child." "What's an immortal child?" Bella asked. The whole family nade their way into the small library as Carlisle showed her. "Immortal children where very beautifull. So enchanting. To be near them was to love them. But their development was frozen at the age they where turned. They couldn't be taught or restrained. A single child could destroy an entire village. Humans beard about the devishstation, stories spread. The Volturi was forced to intervene. Since the children coukdn't protect our secret, they had to he destroyed. Their creators grew very attached and fought to protect them. Long established covens where thorn apart, countless humans where slaughtered. Traditions, friends, even families, lost." Carlisle explained. "So the Denali's mother made an immortal child?" Bella asked. "Yes. And she paid the price." Was all Carlisle said, his tone sad. "Well Renesmee is nothing like those children. She was born, not bitten. She grows every single day." Bella replied. "So can't you just explain that to the Volturi?" Jacob asked feeling worried for his imprint. "Aro has enough proof in Irina's thoughts." Edward said. "So we fight." Was all Jacob said. "Their offensive weapons are too powerfull. No one can stand against Jane" Jasper interrupted. "Alec's even worse." Alice said. "Well then we convince them." Bella said. Maeve chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, like that will work. Aro needs a good reason to get Edward and Alice to join him. And even more if he finds out I am staying with you. He will want to fight, or trade. But convincing him will most likely not work." Maeve explained. "Maeve is right. They are coming to kill us, not to talk." Emmett said. "Indeed. They won't listen to us." Edward spoke. "But maybe others can convince him. Carlisle, you have friends all around the world." Edward continued. "I won't ask them to fight." Carlisle said. "Not fight. Witness. If enough people knew the truth, maybe we could convince the Volturi to listen." Edward explained. Esme placed her hand ontop of Carlisle arm. "We can ask this of our friends." she said convincing Carlisle. And so the witnesses where gathered. And as more vampires came onto the land, the more werewolves changed, their nature compelling them to join the pack. Eventually twenty-one vampires came to witness, including Vladimir and Stefan from the Romanian coven, but still no sign from Jasper and Alice whom had left the day the Cullens went out to look for witnesses.

#alec volturi #twilight #volturi

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365days365movies · 3 years

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Historical July II: Spartacus (1960) - Part 2

Well, since this is Historical July...let’s talk history.

The year is 73 BC! A group of up and coming gladiators are plotting their escape from a ludus, or gladiatorial school. At the time, gladiators were often slaves, forcefully brought into service and trained to become a skilled fighter in the arena. Sometimes, these were captives taken during a skirmish, and other times they were simply rebellious or otherwise notable slaves.

However, one of these gladiators is a bit different. Some say that he’s simply a former slave from the region of Thrace. Others say that he was once a mercenary, who had grown up a slave and eventually become a Roman soldier, only to desert them and return to slavery. Either way, this Thracian man was known as Spartacus. And he was unsatisfied with his position in life.

The owner of the school is one Lentulus Batiatus, a man otherwise little known to history. He owned the ludus, located in Capua, just north of the great city of Naples. He presided over the school and its captives, and was likely there when the rebellion began. About 70 gladiators, Spartacus included, grabbed kitchen utensils and fought their way out of the school, grabbing weapons and armor along the way. Pro-tip for you ludus owvers out there: don’t let the trained fighters use fucking knives, and LOCK UP YOUR SHIT.

Now free, they rampaged throughout Capua, plundering as they went along and bringing more slaves into their growing force. Spartacus led, alongside Gallic slaves Crixus and Oenomaus, and thus began the Third Servile War. And yes, I SAID THIRD. Understand this: there are many rules of human history, immortal and immutable. And one of those rules is:

Slavery. Fucking. Sucks.

Yeah, it’s a staple of history that slavery is an immoral, reprehensible, and shameful practice...that fuckin’ EVERYBODY has done at some point in history. Yeah, some of the most talked about form of the institution is the American enslavement of African and Black Americans (which I’ll get to...eventually), but every major civilization has been built on the backs of slaves. And that’s not even saying that slavery is purely a thing of the past...but I digress. Back to the Servile Wars.

Yeah, one of the multiple slave rebellions throughout history, the Servile Wars were a series of slave rebellions against the Roman Republic, taking place from 135 to 71 BC. There were three of these, with the last taking place in Italy, and led by Spartacus and his posse. After their raids, they camped on top of Mount Vesuvius. Yeah. THAT Mount Vesuvius.

Meanwhile, in Rome, they’re kinda freaking out. See, their armies are, like...GONE. Rome LOVED it some war, and they were fighting two separate ones at the exact same time! Tey didn’t really take this one that seriously, and lemme tell ya...they may have wanted to. They had one of their battalions COMPLETELY fucked by Spartacus and his boys, and they JUST. KEPT. WINNING. Spartacus was a great leader and tactician, and they used the resources they had very effectively throughout. However, soon enough, Rome started to take them a little more seriously.

Enter Marcus Licinius Crassus. Yup, he’s real too. As is Glabrus, but his fate...we’ll get to his fate. Crassus was the richest man in Rome, and he volunteered to end the rebellion with eight legions under his command. Which is a loooooot. He was a cruel general, and a terrifying taskmaster, and in 71 DC, he got his troops to surround Spartacus and his army. And how did it go? Well, I won’t spoil the film, because it’s actually surprisingly accurate! Yeah! Missing some details, but it’s not a bad job. However...the ending of this film is technically not true, as far as we know. Additionally, there’s no proof that Varinia existed, and there’s also one very specific sequence that probably never happened...and it’s the most iconic scene of the movie. But we’ll get to that. For now, let’s rejoin our people, as they’re presented with one specific problem:

Part One is right here!

Recap (2/2)

The idyllic peace is broken by the arrival of Cilician pirate envoy Tigrantes Levantus (Herbert Lom), who makes a deal with Spartacus to procure the ships for their transit and escape from Italy. Learning now that Rome is sending battalions against the army, he doesn’t have much faith in the army. However, the Romans are underestimating the slave army, and really aren’t taking the whole thing seriously. Definitely a good tactical move, there.

Spartacus agrees, and sends his troops to take out the camp, which is not surrounded by stockades, and therefore unprotected. It’s a rousing success, and the entire garrison is caught completely FUCKED! Glabrus is caught and humiliated by Spartacus, to allows him to go back to Rome and tell them that their only demands are freedom to leave the country. Goddamn, they seriously SPANK the dude.

And then...intermission. Oh. I, uh...I did not time these two parts well, huh? Well, whatever. Movie’s over halfway done at this point. Plus, gives me some time to appreciate the score. It’s composed by Alex North, who’s best known for A Streetcar Named Desire, and for my next movie this month. It’s bumping, honestly, especially during the intermission! Honestly, Imma give this music a 9/10 now, just to save the suspense.

Oh, we’re back. OK, Glabrus delivers the message to the Senate, noting their plan. Crassus also vaguely recognizes the name Spartacus, but can’t recall why. Hell, Glabrus doesn’t recognize him at all, which just shows how little the elite care at all about slaves and gladiators. He notes that they weren’t prepared for an ambush at night, or at all, because after all...they’re only slaves. Glabrus’ dumbass actions cause him to be banished from Rome entirely, and by his sponsor, Crassus! Disgraced in turn by the death of six divisions of the army (like I said, SPANKED), Crassus resigns from the Senate in shame. Humiliated by Glabrus, Spartacus, and Gracchus in a scathing rebuke, Crassus leaves to plot further from the shadows. Damn.

Meanwhile, things couldn’t be going better for Spartacus, as Varinia’s pregnant, and the army’s growing and successful. And here I am, waiting for the shoe to completely fucking DROP. ‘Cause let’s face it: when it drops, it’s gonna drop fuckin’ HARD. But for now, all shoes are...levitating? Worn? What are shoes before they’re dropped, anyway?

The Senate’s now stressed out. Rome’s stretched thin by two wars, pirates have cut off their grain supply, the people are starving, and THEN there’s fuckin’ Spartacus! After confirming that nobody Gaius as the leader of the garrison (replacing Glabrus), they decide on intercepting the rebellion at the city of Metapontum. But it’s too late, as the Rebellion appears to have taken out the city, its nobles, and the intercepting Roman Legion army, because Spartacus can’t fucking LOSE right now! I smell a end-of-second-act conflict coming on, though. Those suspicions of mine mount, as that nobody Gaius is approached by Crassus in a Roman bathhouse, who tries to woo him like the Emperor wooed Anakin.

However, Gracchus...actually, hold up a sec, I just realized something. Is Star Wars basically just Rome? Seriously, The Republic is led by a Senate, until giving way to an Empire ruled by an Emperor. It’s...IT’S FUCKING ROME HOW DID I NEVER REALIZE THIS

...AH, Gracchus, right. Gaius and Crassus go to Gracchus, who’s also in the bathhouse, and Crassus easily convinces him to relinquish command of the Roman army. Makes sense, as Spartacus is too powerful, Gaius is a newbie nobody, and Crassus is a decorated and celebrated general. Gaius gladly relinquishes command, and the victorious Crassus leaves.

However, it won’t matter much. Gracchus has actually been working WITH the pirates, and bribed them with money to safely take Spartacus and the slave army out of Italy. And Gaius...Gaius don’t like that shit. He’s from nobility, and is an honorable man who dislikes the tactics of bribery. I mean, Gaius might be a nobody, but he’s not completely without influence. Looks like Anakin’s about to betray the Republic.

Meanwhile, Spartacus is greeted by Tigrantes, who reveals that the Cilicians decided to take the fuck off, abandoning Spartacus and his army entirely. But why? Crassus. With a counter-bribe of his own, Crassus convinced the pirates to take the fuck off, leaving the rebellion behind as two Roman generals approach from the coast. That forces the rebellion to march away from the sea, and against Rome and Crassus’ army. Which is...an absolutely brilliant play, goddamn.

Now absolutely fucked, Spartacus decides to make a speech of his own. Meanwhile, in Rome, Crassus is given emergency power due to the crisis. And also meanwhile, I have to try SUPER HARD not to make fuckin’ Star Wars parallels, holy shit. Anyway, while Crassus ensures Rome that he’ll catch and kill Spartacus, Spartacus tells his own countrypeople that they march to Rome, likely towards death. And they go with him, because Spartacus rules.

As the armies march, this is a great time to point out that Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier are fucking FANTASTIC in this movie. I mean, no surprise that two of the greatest actors that ever lived acted greatly here, but they are seriously stellar. And hell, there’s still an hour left, but I kinda wanna give this a 9/10 already!

Crassus, hellbent to get Spartacus’ ass (and the ass of his legend), even outmaneuvers Spartacus by changing up battle plans at the last second, and by forcing the other two generals at the coast to do the same. Dude is a BRILLIANT TACTICIAN, and it really shows. But he’s not...perfect.

See, just then, Batiatus shows up, summoned by Crassus to give a description of Spartacus. To his absolute shock, he realizes exactly who Spartacus was, but doesn’t even slightly remember what he looked like. Like a proper dick. But ALSO like a proper dick, Batiatus decides to barter the information of Spartacus’ appearance for the role of salesman for the survivors from the battle. Crassus agrees, but at the cost of Batiatus’ freedom for the moment.

Spartacus looks over his people, as they set up camp for the night in preparation for the coming battle. Nervous about this, and nervous to leave his wife and child (oh, they got married, by the way), he says goodbye, and prays that his child will be free one day. Also, I gotta say, I admire Spartacus’ vulnerability here. I mean, yeah, there’s some simp energy here, but I fucking ship it. His genuine emotions really speak to how much he loves Varinia. It’s sweet.

But enough of that romantic folderol. It’s time for war, as the two armies meet on the battlefield. The Roman army shows off their famous formations, while the Rebellion is in a solid block. And something tells me that this is going to go...very badly. On the bright side, though, this sequence shows off some fantastic cinematography and direction. There's a lot more movie left, but I’m giving direction by Kubrick and cinematography by Russell Metty a 9/10, for fucking sure.

The Rebellion’s not ENTIRELY unprepared, though, as they use flaming barricades steamrollers (YES REALLY) to fend off the army. It’s...well, it’s literally fucking lit. And I will see myself out.

Well, not yet, because the battle’s raging. And yeah, it’s a battle. And HOLY SHIT, it’s bloodier than you’d think! Spartacus just, like, CHOPS OFF A DUDE’S ARM, at blink-and-you’ll-miss speed. By the end, the field is stained with blood of Romans and slaves, but definitely mostly the rebels. It’s a massacre, and an absolute disaster for Spartacus and the Rebellion.

The survivors, Spartacus and Antoninus included, are rounded up and chained, to be returned into slavery. Their lives will be spared of crucifixion and death...but only if Spartacus’ body is found, or if he gives himself up to the Romans. And if you know anything about this movie...well...

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Epic. And absolutely one of the most famous scenes in film history. And funny thing here, I always thought this was the end of the film. But not quite. With this act, all of the survivors have doomed themselves to crucifixion (which FUCKS over Batiatus). All, of course, but Varinia, who has given birth to their son. Crassus orders her and the child to come with him. He also kicks Batiatus out of camp, to be flogged on the way out.

He also sees the still alive Antoninus, and quickly condemns him to crucixion. As he stands with Spartacus, Crassus suspiciously holds their crucifixions until last. And in case you’re wondering if the rebels get out of this somehow...they don’t. And we see their crucifixions, which stretch down the entire road to Rome.

In Rome, Gracchus and Batiatus meet once again, with a newly whipped Batiatus having learned humility and dignity from his affair. Both are still hellbent on revenge against the arrogant Crassus, and plot to take Varinia away from him. Just then, that nobody Gaius shows up at Gracchus’ place, but no longer as his protege. Instead, he’s joined the side of Crassus, and has come to take Gracchus to meet with Crassus. Crassus has now taken full control on the Republic, and exiles Gracchus from the city, after he’s spoken to his followers that may turn against the state, and against Crassus. Gracchus is forced to submit, and Crassus notes that the slaves remaining alive at the end of the road will be pit against each other...as gladiators. Oh boy.

Back at his place, Varinia is primped and preened as Crassus’ new consort, slave, and prisoner. God, it’s creepy as fuck. What’s made even worse is that he’s now pining over Varinia, asking for her mutual love. Y’know, almost like she isn’t his literal property, or like he didn’t kill her husband, OR like he didn’t LITERALLY JUST threaten her and Spartacus’ child with death. Idiot. Still, Crassus doesn’t get overly abusive, and he’s mostly patient with Varinia. He instead asks what kind of man Spartacus was. She tells him truthfully, and THAT is what riles Crassus up so. Not understanding why she would love a low-born slave, murderer, and thief, he confronts her on it. And that’s when she CORRECTLY notes that he’s actually afraid of Spartacus, and only wants Varinia because he had her. Dude has a sloppy seconds fetish. OK then.

Waiting to die, Antoninus and Spartacus wonder if they could’ve won. But of course, it no longer matters. The rebellion is dead, and the war is lost. Spartacus also believes that Varinia and his child are dead as well, and it’s also then that they realize that they’re the only two slaves left of the entire rebellion. Damn.

As they wonder if they fear death, Crassus shows up to greet the two of them. He’s now realized who Spartacus is, and confronts him as such. This marks the first time the two speak to each other. Or, it would, if Spartacus was speaking. When he doesn’t reply, a frustrated Crassus slaps him, only to be spat on. Absolutely ENRAGED now, Crassus decides to make them fight NOW, with the winner set to be crucified.

Despite promising a public fight, as Gaius points out, Crassus insists upon it happening now. And so, they fight, with Antoninus determined not to let Spartacus be crucified. And this fight is tense as hell...until Spartacus kills Antoninus to spare him. They declare their love for each other, as a father and son love each other. And Antoninus dies. Holy shit, man. This fucking blows.

Crassus, savoring his victory, then gloats about the fact that Varinia is alive, and his slave. Which is definitely the smart thing to say to him right now. But Spartacus is done, and is led off to be crucified. Crassus orders his body burned, and for no one to know who he was. Because after all...he’s still afraid of Spartacus. More so even than Gaius. But why Gaius? Dude’s a nobody! Who the hell is Gaius Julius Caesar and there it is. Fuck me.

But Crassus hasn’t won yet. With Batiatus’ help, Varinia is smuggled away from Crassus, and the two head to Aquitania for safe harbor. Varinia is officially freed by Gracchus, who remains behind after paying Batiatus for his services. Varinia, grateful and tearful, kisses Gracchus goodbye. And Gracchus...Gracchus grabs a knife. I don’t like where that’s headed.

Batiatus and Varinia leave the city, and are briefly apprehended by guards. But, of course, crucified outside of the city is Spartacus, who’s still alive. The husband and wife see each other one last time, and she presents their son to him, teling him that he is free, as Spartacus had wanted. Varinia will tell their son of Spartacus, and pledges that he will die soon, so that he no longer suffers. And they leave, as Spartacus watches on, doomed to a horrible death.

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And that’s it. That tragic ending is THE ending. Holy fucking shit, this movie is goddamn stellar. Real talk, it’s definitely getting in the ‘90s score wise. Like...let’s see here...

Cast and Acting: 10/10. Yeah, really, this is a perfect cast.

Plot and Writing: 8/10. This was fine, but not perfect.

Directing and Cinematography: 9/10, unsurprisingly.

Production and Art Design: 10/10, also unsurprisingly.

Music and Editing: 9/10, as promised. Goddamn.

Yeah, that’s a 92%. Because this film was absolutely stellar.

A bit long, though. Still, I’ll elaborate on my feeling in an epilogue/review. Buuuuuuut, just in case you’re wondering, or if I don’t get that post out in time...here’s the next one coming down the pike. And if I guess correctly...I think that nobody Gaius is coming back in a big way for this one.

Next time: Cleopatra (1963), dir. Joseph Mankiewicz

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currentfandomkick · 3 years

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Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

#maribat #marinette did not sign up for this #part 10 #updated at last #my writing #long post #my writings #bio!dad bruce

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Alias Anticipated Modern Superhero Storytelling

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J.J. Abrams’ spy drama Alias, which turns 20 this week, was a lot of things: high-octane action-adventure series, twentysomethings relationship drama, occasional National Treasure homage. It was also, surprisingly, a spiritual predecessor to today’s hyper-saturated superhero movie and TV universes: A preternaturally gifted fighter, Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner) inhabits comic-book-esque alter egos to infiltrate secret missions related to ancient artifacts and promised immortality, all while ensuring that her nearest and dearest don’t know how many times she’s saved the world—or which side she’s really on.

Like the series’ MacGuffin-generating Nostradamus figure Milo Rambaldi, Alias has proven to be somewhat prophetic itself about what makes for the kinds of superhero stories that land today. With some 20th-anniversary hindsight, let’s look back at what made Sydney’s story so super and what lessons Abrams’ ridiculous(ly fun) series can still impart to the current crop of superhero sagas.

The Secret Identity as Kiss of Death

The highest priority that spies and superheroes share is that they cannot get made—that is, have their identity as a larger-than-life individual linked to their “normal” selves. They must always keep their personal and professional personas separate, lest they risk losing the people who know both sides of them. Alias establishes this difficult lesson in the first half hour of the pilot, when Sydney reveals her true work (she thinks SD-6 is just a covert branch of the CIA) to doctor fiancé Danny, only for him to blab about it later and get bloodily taken out in their bathtub. It’s the first time that SD-6 treats its sweet protégée harshly, making clear the consequences of her actions should she open up to anyone else in her life. And then she defects to the CIA, which will be a death sentence for her if SD-6 ever finds out.

Yet beyond the specter of grisly assassination, what the series really digs into is Syd’s growing ethical dilemma about being a double agent where it concerns the actually good people at SD-6, primarily her longtime partner Dixon (Carl Lumbly) and sweetly awkward Q stand-in Marshall (Kevin Weisman). It would be too easy if the series were only about her getting long-game revenge on SD-6 director Arvin Sloane (Ron Rifkin); the real conflict comes from Sydney lying to Dixon’s face on every stakeout, knowing that he still thinks he’s working for the good guys and she can’t ruin that fantasy for him without potentially turning him into collateral damage.

Similarly, the moments in which Sydney’s two (or three) lives begin to collide have other heartbreaking consequences: While the scene in which her best friend Will (Bradley Cooper cast as the friendzoned buddy, amazing) gets kidnapped and sees Syd saving him, is one of the decade’s best laugh-out-loud moments, it also leads to Will going into the Witness Protection Program. His life ends, in a sense, because Sydney couldn’t keep everything compartmentalized. And we haven’t even gotten to the awful fate that befalls her best friend Francie (Merrin Dungey)…

What Alias Predicted: The beating heart (or arc reactor) of many a superhero story is this tension between selves—which means that the big reveal of a secret identity has to be carefully timed and deliberately presented. It’s as emotional as Peter Parker’s (Tobey Maguire) mask getting ripped away when he saves the subway car of people in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2, as big as Spider-Man: Far From Home doxxing that Peter Parker (Tom Holland) in a commentary on fake news, or as pure and simple as Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) outing himself as Iron Man in the very first installment of the MCU. You cannot unring that bell, so it better be a memorable moment.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Rev the secret identity stakes back up! Captain America: Civil War ably took on the game-changing Marvel Comics arc of the same name by having heroes collectively unmask, and movies like Spider-Man: Far From Home are still playing out those ramifications. But mostly we see the dangerous ramifications of heroes doxxing themselves, without really digging into the strain for heroes to constantly have to lie about the things that truly matter to them.

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Campy Disguises and Clever Aliases

If you’ve watched Alias or were even vaguely aware of it, no doubt the first thing you envision is Sydney in black leather and bright red hair, a.k.a. her iconic look from the pilot. Her non-SD-6-sanctioned, under-the-radar disguise (impersonating Will’s sister) displays her ingenuity and establishes the series’ brand: attention-grabbing hair paired with increasingly ridiculous outfits, from chain mail waitress ensembles to rubber dresses. She’s played punks, rich bimbos, alluring businesswomen, escorts, and all manner of female personas upon which her marks would project their assumptions—all of which belied her true strength and cunning.

Even when future episodes riffed on the color wheel with teal, magenta, purple, and good old-fashioned blonde wigs, it was still within a clear spectrum established on that pivotal mission, when she channels a silly girl who cares more about the color of her hair than her safety, only to pin her torturer with the same chair to which she’s bound.

What Alias Predicted: I would hazard a guess that Natasha Romanoff’s first appearance in 2012’s The Avengers—a seemingly helpless redhead tied to a chair, about to be nastily interrogated—was a nod toward Sydney’s triumphant pilot mission. What’s more, despite the first ten years of the MCU leaning toward sleek costumes, later phases (like WandaVision‘s cheeky Halloween callbacks) have realized that they can embrace the bold colors and campy designs of the comic-book source material.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Better to lean into the bold colors and campy designs of the comic-book source material than to go for more sleek and cool. WandaVision did this, albeit cheekily and using the excuse of Halloween, but the nod toward Scarlet Witch’s original outfit was well received. Because any superhero can look cool in leather, but only the standouts can rock color.

Rambaldi Artifacts, Immortality, and Clones

While replicating the romantic dramas of Felicity, Abrams was also playing with early iterations of his signature “puzzle box” narrative style: The pilot has Sydney chasing after the mysterious Mueller device, which turns out to be… a floating red ball… which bursts into water the moment she tries to remove it. That head-scratcher of a device is only one of many inventions belonging to Milo Rambaldi, a fictional Renaissance-era philosopher whose sketches and writings all pointed toward the ultimate endgame: immortality. You know, just normal spy thriller things.

The series saw Sydney and co. chasing after all manner of Rambaldi MacGuffins, from a clock to a kaleidoscope to a music box to flowers that either demonstrated proof of eternal life (by never wilting) or amped up human aggression. Through all of this, it becomes clear that Sloane helped found SD-6 in order to collect all of Rambaldi’s artifacts and capture immortality for himself—even and especially at the cost of people like his daughter, Sydney’s half-sister Nadia Santos (Mía Maestro).

Before we get more into Rambaldi’s prophecies about the sisters, we can’t forget the parallel fever dream of the series: clones! Or, rather, secret agents genetically modified to look like anyone—which means everyone is a suspect. This constant paranoia quickly got out of hand on the series, but its first reveal was perfect TV drama: There’s not an Alias fan who doesn’t remember “Francie doesn’t like coffee ice cream” and the complete devastation that followed—the knock-down, drag-out fight that destroyed Sydney’s apartment just as badly as Danny’s death, but also Sydney’s heartbreak upon realizing that her best friend was already long dead.

What Alias Predicted: The Infinity Stones themselves are less interesting than in various superheroes’ personal connections to them: Loki (Tom Hiddleston) tempted by the tesseract in Thor: Ragnarok; Star Lord (Chris Pratt) and the Guardians of the Galaxy channeling their friendship to withstand the effects of the Power Stone; Wanda Maximoff’s (Elizabeth Olsen) stages of grief as she copes with trying to keep the memory of Vision (Paul Bettany) alive even without the Mind Stone. In short: grounding the most out-there plotlines in the personal ensures they will always land.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Ground the most bonkers of plotlines in the personal, and they’ll always land.

The Chosen One and the Passenger

This is when the Rambaldi business started getting less National Treasure levels of charming and more outright weird. Turns out the team wasn’t just recovering a treasure trove of artifacts, but also Rambaldi’s prophetic writings—including the mysterious “Page 47,” which featured a drawing of a woman known as the Chosen One… who bears quite the resemblance to Sydney herself. That would be easy enough to dismiss as a strange doppelgänger coincidence, but then comes the reveal of “Project Christmas”: When Syd discovers that she didn’t just stumble into the spy life on her own, but was actually trained as a sleeper agent from childhood, it only amplifies her fears that she has no true agency over her life.

Further Rambaldi writings center Sydney and Nadia into predestined roles as the Chosen One and the Passenger: supposed foes who are fated to clash, with one dying. Nadia getting injected with “Rambaldi fluid” in order to tap directly into the long-dead man’s consciousness (contained within another artifact known as the Sphere of Life) only earns her some nasty apocalyptic visions. But despite their genuine friendship that comes from bonding over their fucked-up childhoods, Sydney and Nadia are forced into that preordained confrontation when the latter is injected with a compound that reduces her to a mindless killing machine… all while a giant red ball is hovering over a city in Russia, because why not. Even after Nadia dies, and is brought back to life, then dies again, with her ghost haunting Sloane as he finally attains immortality, she remains a presence on the series.

There are certainly echoes to Black Widow and how it handles Natasha and adoptive sister Yelena’s (Florence Pugh) strained reconciliation after the older sister got out of the Red Room while the younger was still caught in its web. Their bickering banter about vests and poses, their differing memories of their false childhood, and their respective feelings of abandonment are what elevated Black Widow’s standalone outing—and made it even more tragic, on multiple levels, that this was the only time we would see the two of them in a movie together.

What Alias Predicted: Sister stories are gold! The Rambaldi storylines would mean nothing if they didn’t hinge on a tragically preordained confrontation, just as the MCU’s Red Room depiction seemed overdone until it was presented within the context of multiple generations’ differing experiences with its bloody legacy.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: More stories about sisters! With Nat dead not long after she and Yelena had just started to bond again, it’s vital that Yelena’s future MCU appearances show her still grappling with the little time they got together.

After all, the best superhero stories are the ones that can feel just as fresh now as they did 20 years ago.

Alias is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

The post How Alias Anticipated Modern Superhero Storytelling appeared first on Den of Geek.

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writtenbyvenus · 4 years

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What We Do In The Shadows

( Warning, this is in RP format, but has been edited and proof read for grammar/flow. A change between writers with both characters is symbolized by italics. )

Chapter 2: Entering The Wolf’s Den

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they have too much baggage they carry.

Alfred could tell he offended his baby bat. From his body language to ‘Don’t wait up’, his vampire was not pleased with being forced alone and having to wait. It seemed that the vampire had a lot of pride, they were prideful creatures after all. Being told by the wolf ‘Hang by yourself then’ must have hurt his ego, as he reached out to hang out with Ivan in the first place. Smelling the man’s disdain, once he got back into his room, he hoped that Ivan would knock on his door again. But when he didn’t he did pout. Perhaps he was too harsh on his crush. Rethinking his actions, he did wish Ivan would have knocked on his door. He would welcome the man in and enjoyed some light cuddling while he watched dragons breath fire on people. However, it seemed to be that the man was too offended by the idea. Watching the show, he got bored as he wished Ivan was next to him. Thinking for a moment, he came up with an idea to tempt Ivan into his apartment. Standing up, he didn’t bother to pause the show as he went into his room. Grabbing his pencil and sketch pad, he decided to let Ivan see his secret hobby: drawing. His love of anime and cartoons inspired him to take up drawing as a hobby. But he was very embarrassed about it, and would rarely show people his artwork. Even if it was great and matched up well with popular artists on social media, his own anxiety made it a hidden talent. He’d let very few people see his drawings, for him it was about the fun of it. He didn’t need validation for it, it was his hobby. He’d color, sketch, and draw, just for himself. Sitting back on the sofa, he decided to use a more cutesy-anime style. Drawing him and Ivan, he gave Ivan little bunny ears, and wolf ears on himself. Nicknames like ‘bunny’ and ‘ kitten’ were ones he saved for people he found cute.

It was ironic since it was the prey of wolves. He did want to eat up a cute bunny or kitten, but more in a playful manner. Ivan’s foreign accent made him think of a hot blonde he’d see at a ski resort. With the cutesy image of him and the bunny, he made sure to draw him smirking and showing off his canine teeth. Ivan didn’t look scared in the art, only giving the cocky smirk he usually gave Ivan. It was only their heads and torsos, and on the top, he wrote ‘After your sister’s leave, wanna get something to eat?’. It was Alfred’s peace offering. Getting up, he walked to Ivan’s apartment door. Instead of knocking, he simply slipped the art under his door. Ivan would come across it once he was around the area. He didn’t want to disturb the blood-sucking bunny current if he truly had plans. Going back to his room, he continued on his Game of Thrones binge, praying that the vampire would come by later. In terms of a ‘meal’, it could be anything the man wanted. They could go hunting together, Ivan finding some unsuspecting human, and Alfred a lonely deer. Or, more orthodox, actually somewhere to snack. Or just stay in his house and cook something homemade. Whatever the man had a thirst for, blood or food.

Over in his own apartment, Ivan put a sponge to his red-stained mugs, putting his strength into getting the crusted blood left to the bottom. When he turned his heel to load his dishwasher something white caught his eye. He set his dishes in the rack before scanning the floor before his door. Stepping away from the sink, he approached the mysterious note and turned his head to look down upon it. Recognizing the resemblance of his face, his cheeks flushed with red. He bent down and snatched up the paper into his hands. His heart nearly lurched from his chest and onto the freshly spotless floor. He'd have to deal with the recycled blood burning his face for a few more minutes before getting over the gesture. The strange conversation and insight earlier blended oddly with the feeling he had now. Mostly charmed, but slightly uneasy. He found it bold, not unwelcomed, but surprising from Alfred. His finger traced over the leaded indentations as he took a seat at his breakfast nook. It was beyond flattering, a style he hasn't seen before, but charming. He thought of it slightly egotistical to be set next to the man who drew it, but grateful for it. It made it easier on his eyes. Bunny ears. That was a new one for him. Bat wings were a popular addition for scriptures and etchings. He wasn't used to seeing some draw him in a kindly way. Most depictions of him resonated with evil tellings and horrifying accounts of his figure hunched over a decaying body. Town folk never were pleased when he would make an appearance in their streets. It's why moving was a must for him, he needed supplies like everyone else. Curiosity struck him as he wondered how much moving Alfred must have been up to. Being ageless caused too much suspicion. 'My, Avgustin, you don't look a day over twenty-five' were the last words he heard before leaving his old home behind. Sometimes he wishes to grow old.

The little question scribbled down beside the art was one he had to consider thoroughly. One that made his heart stop. He rattled his fingers across the surface of the table and reread the words. 'your sisters' it didn't make any sense to him, he swore up and down that he didn't whisper a word of his relations. Sighing and sliding the paper away from him, he sat quietly to calm his nerves and lay his head down on the table. He did plan on inviting his sisters over and that included sharing his haul of blood, but now all he wanted to do was head next door and talk to Alfred. The warmth clung to him like it usually did, an unbearable heat holding to his face. It would only embarrass him further to give in so easily. He pressed his face into the cool wood and closed his eyes for a moment before leaving it behind. Nothing would give him closure, he wanted to be next to Alfred and that would be the only way to get the werewolf out of his thoughts. Groaning, he began finishing up the rest of his dishes. After flicking on his dishwasher, he took the art and walked it back to his room. He was trying to wait out the lingering warmth to his face and most of it faded, but not all of it would give him that peace. Before he finally left his apartment, he messaged his sibling group that he wouldn't be home. There wasn't much his poor sisters could do if something were to go wrong, but he just didn't want them asking him to death about where he went. Hesitantly, he knocked on Alfred's door and waited. His heart didn't stop racing, he didn't find himself nervous around werewolves very often, but Alfred had that effect on him.

It was good for Alfred’s ego that he wasn’t there to witness Ivan’s reaction to the note. Seeing blushing, flattered Ivan would cause the wolf to grin, and show off his canines in the glory of knowing he charmed the vampire. It would be in Ivan’s best interest to let Alfred enjoy it if he enjoyed the ‘bunny’ persona, as Alfred would happily go with it. A cute nickname for a cute boy, not to mention, Alfred understood the niceness of not being referred to something scary. Alfred was like Ivan in that way, no one knew better than him what it was like to be personified into a godless beast, with nothing charming and cute about it. Being compared to something as harmless and pretty as a bunny was probably emotionally soothing, which was part of the reason Alfred did it. A bunny is adorable, warm, and cozy, the last thing that goes to someone’s head is fear over the animal. Ivan could be Alfred’s harmless, sweet bunny if he wanted too. Even if Alfred drew himself to be a wolf, he was still a childlike puppy in many ways, even with the slight bloodlust that he had. Minus that, he was a silly, carefree man. But the transformation did take some part of his personality and make it more intense. Alfred was lost in his marathon when he could smell Ivan walking down the hallway.

Sniffing the air, a smile popped out when he could smell the nervousness on him. Has the note made him nervous? He wasn’t sure if it was ’I’m nervous about how excited I am to see him...’ or ’I’m just scared of him’ anxiety, he couldn’t smell that. Only that the man was dealing with some emotions due to the note. He wondered if the part about his sister’s had made Ivan worried. In all honesty, it was just a bold guess on who was coming over. Alfred was aware that Ivan had siblings or at least relatives, he could smell other vampires around, and two females had a similar scent to him. He concluded that someone was either related to him, and a female. Sister’s were the most logical answer, but cousins, aunts, and other distant relatives were all possible. Alfred’s lucky guess had helped his case. Standing up, he walked to the door, offering Ivan a gentle smile as he raised a brow. “Did your plans cancel? That sucks. But, you’re welcome to come in, babe. I got a spot on the sofa for you.” He stepped back to let Ivan inside his house, the first time he’s ever done that. Inviting a vampire into your home? The biggest no-no in the world, but here was Alfred not caring, per usual. He was going to bring up how they’d dined tonight, either traditional or unorthodox, but he’d give Ivan a moment to settle in before speaking of murder and hunting. He was a gentleman after all! Sitting down on the couch, he leaned back and patted the seat next to him.

Being a man who admired his dignity more than his enjoyment, Ivan had already become irritated with his own decision. He was visiting a friend, he didn't understand why he had to make it stand out so much for himself. There wasn't any loss to giving in to spend time with someone you enjoy, but he couldn't help but consider how overly friendly the drawing was. Trying not to overthink it, he mimicked the grooves he felt and pressed them into the palm of his hand. He adored the small act, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Alfred was a suitable match against him. The fact that he actually found himself pining after the chummy little wolfman was alarming at times. He was risking many aspects of his life by even accepting the invitation to come over. If he ever got closer to Alfred, it wouldn't be logical. With the outgoing personality Alfred shined out constantly, he was sure that he couldn't be a lone wolf. There were others. He smelt them when he walked down the street or by chance in the meat section of the corner store. Werewolves, vampires, they all hid in plain sight, but it wasn't right for him to assume that all of their kind knew each other. Much like dogs though, he knew that werewolves must greet each other. Alfred had to have at least, he guaranteed himself that. It confused him to be welcomed in with that case, it scared him almost. He didn't understand why Alfred trusted him so much when he knew what he was. Unfortunately, a vampire's sense of smell isn't as powerful as a dog's thus he wasn't able to detect other bodies in the apartment. His nose was just used to Alfred passing by and in his baskets of clothes.

He wrote off the name babe quickly, trying to blame it on habit. "My plans didn't cancel. You were just acting particularly lonely so I thought I would give in and offer you some company." Teasing, he calmed down significantly at the sight of Alfred smiling patiently. Elated by the idea of finally setting foot into Alfred's humble abode with the help of some keywords, he beamed and eased his head through the doorway. He's never seen beyond the door so it was a new experience for him. It wasn't much different than his habitat, the layout was a given, but he didn't catch any deers hanging from the ceiling so it was a bonus. Ivan liked to keep his living area tidy along with his kitchen, but once someone hits his room, that's when everything starts falling apart. Never does he bother to make his bed or take out his clothes from the basket to hang them up. His nightstand, though barely a foot wide, somehow holds a lamp, three different alarm clocks, and always a few dirty dishes. A part of him wanted to head through Alfred's apartment and check out his bedroom. "When were you going to tell me that you knew how to draw?" He paced over to the sofa and took a seat away from Alfred, a cushion between the two of them so he had some space.

Alfred was pleased to have Ivan enter his house. The bunny entering the wolves den, almost. Stretching out his legs, he rested one of his arms on the headrest, eyes lingering to his shows. Ivan's excuse was cute, he didn’t even cover up with a lie about them canceling. He canceled on them for him. What about that, it added to Alfred’s ego. His eyes were careful not to linger too long, but every few moments, they’d turn to Ivan’s body as he found a quick way to verbally eat him up. “Well, thanks for giving the company. And I don’t really like talking about it since I get shy... It’s kind of a personal thing. I just draw things for myself, and no one else.” It truly was a personal hobby, but he would draw more for Ivan again if it made the man come around often. It worked the first time, so why not again? He wouldn’t mind after all. He smirked when someone was murdered on the screen. Alfred’s house proved to be on average with a clean to messy ratio. He wasn’t the cleanest guy, but he wasn’t the stereotypical dirty, living off of paper plates type of dude either. He knew how to mop, take out the trash, and vacuum, but sometimes would get lazy with dishes and let it pile up.

His habit of being sexually open also gave him a reason to keep his apartment good looking. Showing a cute boy or girl a disgusting, dirty apartment would be embarrassing. His room was surprisingly not that bad, his only problem with being lazy and letting clean clothes stay in a pile and not putting them away. He’d also never make his bed, but he’d always throw away garbage in fear of getting ants in his room. He was proud of a fox fur blanket that he had, he’d love to show Ivan. It was during a couple of days in wolf form, he hunted down several silver foxes. They are known for being used heavily in the fur trade, and lucky enough, he was able to find some living in the wild nearby. It took a few days of stalking, but he was able to hunt down enough for the blanket. Another older werewolf knew how to skin fur and make coats and blankets, and helped him with the process. It was special to him, proving his strength and hunting skills. It was also soft and luxurious; usually, he had to lie to people and say it was a gift or passed down in his family. There wasn’t much pride in saying someone gave it to him. But with Ivan, he could open up and tell how he got something worth thousands of dollars in his hands; he worked for it. The warm fur was perfect during cold winter nights in upstate New York. “I’m so lucky to have a nice friend like you. I owe you a warm meal after this...” He teased, patting Ivan’s leg before putting it back in his own lap, eyeing the TV.

"You being shy? That's a first. With the way you draw, I thought you would boast about it." Ivan was trying to compliment his host, something small, but not enough to curse himself with. In both ways, Alfred's ego was something he had to handle with caution. Cheer on the man too much and he'll be putting up with cocky smirks up until the time he had to leave. Say something a little too cruel and the bubbly wolf will turn into a babbling mess. Simply acknowledging that fact to Alfred would tear him up one way or another, Ivan knew it and planned to keep things nice and light. "You somehow captured your narcissism on a single piece of paper, it's really impressive." He made sure to sound disingenuous, eyes taking note of Alfred's position. As time went on, the show became less interesting to him. Any shock value or plot development was drowned out by the way the werewolf's face lit up. The small dust of color that humans held in their cheeks was pumping across Alfred's face. He could feel the warmth radiating off the other body. If he buried his face into Alfred's shoulder, he could get a little taste. He didn't plan on chomping down hard, just a small nip. All he needed was a drop of blood to satisfy his burning curiosity. Alfred was too smart, the vampire knew that he'd be shoved away if he even kissed his neck.

There was pride in tackling down a difficult opponent, he understood that. He had grown immune to feeling too miserable about killing some creature or human off. Animals weren't inherently evil, but humans could be. He's witnessed hundreds and hundreds of years of solid proof of how villainous a single human can be. It gave him some peace to think that he was killing off someone who deserved it, but the consequences of his actions stabbed into his thoughts when a moment was too quiet. They were all just people like him and his sisters, but he couldn't help the survival of the fittest. It was inevitable that he would kill again, he knew that his blood bank job wouldn't last forever. Eventually, he'd have to relocate again, find new prey and discover more immortals. Alfred, for now, was a dash in his timeline, but he hoped to extend it. He wanted to stay a little longer and enjoy his time with the werewolf. The thought of dining outweighed heavily on his mind, but one he was certain that what he was nearly drooling over wasn't what Alfred was implying. He could lurch over and sink his fangs into the nape of his dear friend's neck and sample the blood. "I'm lucky to have a good friend like you too... and, as friends, I'm sure you don't mind me asking how old are you- how old you really are." Returning the physical contact, he reached over and pinched at Alfred's cheek. It slightly broke his heart to be called a friend, but it was what they were and he'd rather be on Alfred's good side than be against him.

“I’m glad you like my art.” He commented, rolling his eyes as he slightly blushed from the words. He was embarrassed by the skill but loved it still. He had plans of doodling Ivan later if he had the time. Perhaps even slipping it under his door again. But it was the best of Ivan’s interest to not kiss or go near Alfred’s neck. While he did adore the vampire; he wasn’t born yesterday. Far from it, and it would win a physical push or any other action that showed dominance. The wolf inside him was an Alpha, no doubt. There would be no neck biting, kisses, or smooches unless Ivan wanted a bite back in his neck. But Alfred did accept the pinch, finding it cute that the man was finally getting to the point. After all the time they’ve been neighbors, now he wants to know some real information? He’d play, as long as Ivan played back. “My age? Well, I like to tell people I’m twenty-three. Most people buy it. I was really born in 1941 though, so I guess I look young for my age! Ha! What about you?” He turned, his eyes smiling along with his lips. Raising a brow, he looked at Ivan up and down, checking out the man. He picked up details from his encounters with Ivan and compared to it how other vampires acted. “What are you? Four? Five? Six hundred? Oh wait- Are you post or pre Catherine The Great?” He teased, knowing basic Russian history. His adulthood was during the height of the Cold War, so he knew a lot about Russia.

He was about to make a joke about if Ivan was post or pre ‘Commie-Russia’, but he didn’t want the man huffing and puffing out of his house. Ivan appeared to be the type that might be highly offended by a stereotypical ‘commie’ joke, so he wasn’t going to play his cards. He had the bunny in his den, no need to ruin it. Taking a chance, he decided to lay his head on Ivan’s outer leg. Adjusting his body, he laid on his sides as his eyes stayed on the screen, but his head was resting on top of Ivan’s thigh. He wanted a way to feel Ivan without touching her per se. His messy, blond hair was screaming to be touched, Alfred’s cheek pressing against his leg. He tried to act relaxed as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Man, sometimes I feel old but I bet you feel ancient when anyone speaks to you, huh?” He joked, appearing not to be startled by the conversation. He wondered, was Ivan’s skin soft? Could he blush? Was his fat soft? If he squeezed him, would it feel like a stone? Or skin? He never got close enough to a vampire to touch them intimately, the only times he’s had his physical contact with vampires was in wolf form, killing them in his bite. Not a great comparison to what he wanted to do to Ivan.

Ivan was thrilled to receive a blush, it always warmed his ever slow and cold heart. It made the involuntary expression even more rewarding when regarding that Alfred was a perilous creature just as he was. He felt a bit guilty for not having anything ready to give back when he came over. Drawing wasn't much of a passion for him, he was more into crafts. He could knit something for Alfred, but he wasn't sure if that would be too bold. With how high strung he wound himself up to be, he figured that the werewolf didn't fall far from the feeling around him. Anything made to comfort was suspicious as if to butter the other up. He had to be careful not to cross any lines and set alarms off in Alfred's head. Even if he wanted to drag the relationship further along and at least get to hug on Alfred without being awkward or stepping over bounds, he knew he had to be slow. It was a precaution for himself and Alfred. Hearing the werewolf's real age was a good step, not too big but not too small of a step. "Ah, so you're... in your seventies? My, I guess you really have aged well. Twenty-three does fit you more than an old man who's lived through a world war." It was better to congratulate Alfred than to compare himself to him. To be given a seemingly honest answer was a bit of a surprise to him in the first place. There were a dozen more questions he wanted to ask about the American. He's never found a werewolf civil enough to sit down and talk to; he wanted to know everything about the culture and the process. He wasn't clear on whether or not Alfred was joking or not, grimacing either way. "Do I really come off as that young? Young enough to be post Catherine the Great... That's nice to know." The home he knew wasn't quite developed enough to secure the capital and allow a ruler. "I was there before they even had tsars."

He held his tongue when Alfred cozied up onto his leg, a faint smile to his lips as his hand twitched. "I prefer the term antique... even if being born in 1174 does make me more of a relic." Propping his head upon the armrest, he inched his fingers along his thigh towards Alfred's head. He could abuse the trust, grab the werewolf, and snap his mouth around his waiting neck, but he had better control over his intrusive ideas. "How do people become... werewolves? Is it by a bite from a werewolf or maybe something more ritualistic? I assume they don't consent to it, right?" Asking along, he slowly combed his fingers through Alfred's hair. Later on, he'd have to scrub himself down to get rid of the scent before his family meets him pinching their nose. "Or should I not ask that? It might be too personal." His smile calmed as he teased the other by scratching at the area behind his ear. "I'm sure you don't mind though."

He was happy to feel Ivan’s fingers play with his neck and hair. Ivan not rejecting his touches, but accepting them was all he wanted. Yawning, he closed his eyes as he let his body relax around the man. He was even getting used to the smell, the overly sweetness not bothering him much anymore. “Wow... You are antique... I feel young compared to you, and I can remember Vietnam, Korea, the Middle East, and the Cold War.” Fighting for freedom and America was close to his heart. “My father fought in world war 2, and I entered Vietnam.” Coming back from service due to some injuries was how it happened; one day, camping with his comrades celebrating a return from service, they were attacked by a wolf. Alfred was the only one who survived, getting a deep cut on his chest. He put a silver bullet in the chest of the wolf, making it pay for taking his friend’s lives, but in the end, it’s curse never stopped. “You get bit or scratch. I got scratched, really hard. Most people die when they get bit or scratched, but I survived. I killed the wolf who attacked me and my friends. One silver bullet. That’s all it took...” Alfred whispered, his leg twitching when his ear was scratched. “How did you become a vampire...? It’s your turn to tell....” He asked, wanting to know every detail. “Did it hurt?” He asked, wondering if the transformation caused pain. It did for Alfred, becoming human to a werewolf the first time. The pain he wished he could forget. He turned his head up, looking up at Ivan with big eyes. Curious eyes that wanted the truth, not games. He pushed his body up, so more of his back and head was laying across Ivan’s lap, not just his thigh. Like a true puppy, he wanted to take all the attention and show his dominance. Laying on Ivan, and getting a pet was truly dog-like at this point. But the man could be more of a puppy than a wolf, he just had to be in the right mood. A great, calm, playful mood.

There was no heat coming off Ivan’s body, the only source of warmth was Alfred. He couldn’t feel any heat over his clothes, he guessed if it put his hands on bare skin, Ivan would be chilly. He wondered if vampires feel hard or still have a softness to them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just curious. Vampires, are you guys stone? Or is your fat soft? Do you guys blush?” He asked, attempting to seem innocent. Blinking a few times, his innocent expression turned into a cocky grin. “If I grabbed your ass, would you move in my hand and turn red? Or? Would it be like grabbing a rock?” He asked, knowing he’d get an eye roll from Ivan, but he didn’t care. He needed to know the answers to his weird questions. His brain wondered a lot of things about Ivan and vampires overall. While he assumed that Ivan wouldn’t let him touch him with a ten-foot pole, he still is curious if the occasional thought is accurate.

"I guess you really earned your dog tags that day." Ivan offered lightly, laughing quietly at the puppy-like mannerisms of a grown man visible unwinding over his lap. Turning into a werewolf sounded just as much of a travesty as being a vampire to him. He didn't have to imagine what waking up in a new body was like, but he didn't think that he could ever really fully understand what Alfred went through either. How he earned his status as a vampire was a shorter story, but he'd spare Alfred the details. There wasn't much special about the day when he first laid eyes on the tall lanky figure barrelling toward him, but the pain was still distinct and stabbing. If he hadn't been at death's doorstep that day, he would have put up a better fight, but being at his age back then was a time for letting the earth take you. His body was preserved in the age he died and awakened. His eldest sister landed at twenty-nine and his youngest encased himself with health by being eternally twenty. They could age at will, but never make themselves younger. In that aspect, he considers himself lucky, but being a vampire wasn't his fondest thing. The moment was still fresh on his mind, how vulnerable he was, and how he let the same fate happen to his sisters. It was embarrassing to retell his inevitable cowardice. Since then, he's become more agile and stronger, but that was mostly due to his transformation. "There's a serum that comes out only from certain fangs, but you can feel it course all over your body when they stab into your neck... It hurts about as much as someone sticking two needles into you- you don't like those, do you? That's fine." He continued to tease Alfred over the blunt lie, refusing to call him out on it. It was hard for him to give that up. "I couldn't turn you into a vampire though, I'd only end up sucking your blood because I don't have the stuff to inject you with."

The science behind being a vampire wasn't widely available, but he tried to pass on the information he learned over the years as best he could. "The original vampires are the only ones who carry the serum to turn others into vampires... I'm not sure how they came about- no one does, but them." He separated and wiggled his fingers through more sections of Alfred's hair as he explained, grinning at the way his leg jerked like a dog. It was precious to his heart. "Every millennium or so, they show their face from their tomb and bite a few more unsuspecting victims. That's what I and my sisters have gathered from different vampires at least." The facts were hazy and never written down in fear of discovery. His thoughts trailed off as he enjoyed the heat coming off Alfred when he stretched across his lap. The inquiry seemed wholesome enough at first and he didn't mind answering it until Alfred had to make it dirty. "Oh, I don't know. If I slapped you in the face, would it be soft? Would you be blushing?" He snapped sarcastically, squishing Alfred's cheeks together in turn. "We're not gargoyles! Our skin is just the same as human flesh... So, yes... I guess if you were to grab my ass, it would turn red and move, but I'm not about to give you an example." Patting his face before returning to play with his hair, Ivan furrowed his brows. He grew up in a different time, getting those sorts of comments wasn't something he was used to. "Why are you curious about that sort of thing anyway? What makes you think I'll answer any questions after that?" Frustrated, he went back to scratching behind Alfred's ear to calm himself and the warmth sprouting over him. "Make it up to me by telling me how the moon affects you.

Alfred was shocked to learn the truth about vampires. He was told that all vampires had venom that had the potential to kill. Finding out that only a few did make him relieved, vampires aren’t as dangerous as he was told before. Seeing that even other vampires were unsure how they got the venom explained why his own kind was misinformed. Not to mention, vampires never made it clear about that little fact, nor would Alfred see why they would. Most vampires would rather seem scary and dangerous, having a poison inside them looming over someone’s head. “So? If you bite someone, you don’t have any venom? You’d inject nothing? That’s crazy, everyone thinks all vampires have something in their teeth.” This didn’t mean vampires were harmless, he knew that the creatures had superhuman strength and skill just like him. If a vampire wanted a werewolf dead, it was completely possible. Alfred was biased, and always thought he had the upper hand against vampires. In his personal, werewolf opinion, they were faster and stronger than vampires. But it came to pride than anything else, Alfred would never let his kind down. Even if he thought being a werewolf was more of a curse at times, he would show honor and stand up for himself and his other pack members. They weren’t human anymore, but they were still living beings. “Werewolves, we are different I guess. In wolf form, I think our saliva and body fluids when entering someone else’s skin, can turn them. I think of it as an illness... You get exposed, you’re one of us. With bites, it’s easy to see why it gets into someone’s bloodstream. I’m less sure about scratches though, how it turns us into werewolves. I’m gonna guess there’s just something in our claws that carries the virus.”

Alfred was no scientist, and there wasn’t exactly anyone out there experimenting and explaining the biology of werewolves. He couldn’t hold back his laugh when Ivan pinched his cheeks and got annoyed with his question. He deserved all the cheek squishes! “I just wanted to make sure my wet dreams were scientifically actual, that’s all.” He teased, closing his eyes when Ivan scratched the back of his ear. “Mm....” He lightly groaned, his leg twitching slightly. “Ugh. I hate full moons, man. It doesn’t make us mindless or crazy; we just are forced into wolf form as long as the moon is out. So usually, we have to stay outside. It isn’t too bad in the summer and spring, but when it’s cold out it's kind of annoying to have to find shelter. Nowadays, I go over to my friend Allen’s house during full moons. He has basically a farm and tons of areas that we can just... chill and wait out the full moon. It’s why I left the city, it’s one thing to find somewhere to hide during the countryside, another thing we’re everyone’s running around.” Alfred viewed it as more of an inconvenience if anything. Having to plan his life around one night was annoying! Making sure he had no work, no one visiting, no one expecting him, and if anyone needed to contact him, he was M.I.A for about twelve hours. Alfred got over being horrified about his werewolf status, so more just bothered. “It’s just irritating to have to plan around full moons. But it’s just one day of the month a least....” He took a deep breath, deciding to ask Ivan a question. “Vampires, do you guys like....? Do you guys have a preference when it comes to blood? Like, do certain races taste different? Or is there a difference between boys and girls?”

"I may not be able to turn you, but I can still drain every ounce of blood out of you and leave you as a husk." He didn't like being underestimated. While he found Alfred semi charming, it was made clear to him that the werewolf was still a threat. It was only right for him to assure that he was the same, someone who shouldn't be tampered with. He didn't plan on devouring the sweet neighbor, but he's considered it. The man might just be naive enough to feel safe around a vampire. He didn't even feel comfortable around a vampire he barely knew. It came down to territory between him and a member of his kind. If there were too many vampires in the area, then suspicion rises. Too many bodies are dropping and someone isn't getting enough to drink. He's never personally killed a vampire, but he fought a great few years ago. Times have changed, most vampires have mellowed out and found alternatives to slaughtering a cognitive being. While Ivan has cooked up some solutions to give him the nutrients he needs in a blood-soaked diet, he finds the rich frothy taste of real blood to be too tantalizing. It's been a few months since he's actually stalked and killed someone; he's proud of himself for it. If his tracks are uncovered at the blood bank, he may have to come back to that lifestyle. Living life as a murderer was less glamorous than living life as a hunter. Hearing Alfred say that he could only turn people when in wolf form was a relief. He thought that at least he wasn't stumbling around accidentally making people immortal. "So you can only turn people into werewolves when you're a wolf?... I've never heard about the claws part, that's new to me." It wasn't known to him whether or not he would become a werewolf too if he was bitten, but it was most definitely a concern to him now. A werepire? A vampwolf? Whatever it was, it was conjured up disturbingly in his head. He'd keep his distance from now on if that was the case.

Rolling his eyes at the wet dreams comment, he stopped rubbing his hands through Alfred's hair. "Are all werewolves this dense and vulgar? Or is it just you?" He'd roll the big puppy off his lap if he wasn't going to end up on the floor. Angering a werewolf was something he found surprisingly easy so he kept calm and tried not to seem too upset with Alfred. He liked the company; he didn't want to lose it. "Only during full moons? So you're essentially powerless up until then." Werewolves weren't too strong if they couldn't change at will. He felt significantly less threatened by Alfred's habit of showing his teeth. It was more of a parlor trick to him now, a small way to tease him. He thought of himself as lucky to have his powers with him all the time. It meant that he could tease and frighten Alfred all he wanted until the full moon popped out. He smiled to himself, gently rubbing a thumb to the American's open neck. "We do have preferences actually. The flavor really only varies with the blood type. My least favorite type is B-negative... it's a little bitter. Ah, but my favorite blood type of all has to be O-positive... thankfully, the most common." Shutting his eyes, he leaned back onto the headrest. It was always funny to him when someone walked into the clinic asking for a blood test to be done on them when he could just tell them then and there what they were. To remain undetected, he had to take a blood sample and let the customer wait out the process. He's seen a handful of mythical beasts walk through the blood bank doors while undercover, but those were the only creatures he couldn't seem to smell around. "Usually I can sniff out someone's blood type as they stand- but I can't detect your type on you. Your... werewolf musk has been blocking me." Furrowing his brows with sorrow, he twirled a piece of Alfred's hair between his fingers. "It's made me nothing but curious to find out yours- mere curiosity, trust me. I don't bite."

Alfred wasn’t scared of the warning of getting his blood drained, as Ivan didn’t scare him. The vampire could puff out his chest and appear more frightening than he is, but Alfred stayed unfazed. He was too prideful to let a vampire put any terror into him. He scoffed when Ivan said that he was only powerful during a full moon. “Ha! Who said that I can only turn during a full moon? I said I’m forced to turn during the full moon, I can turn anytime I want the rest of the month. I could turn right now. It rips my clothes off, so I would rather not give an example.” Ivan shouldn’t feel any more relief in it, Alfred had his power all year round. “Don’t think I could turn you, though. I think our... virus is immune to you guys. Vampires aren’t alive, so it just... dies on you. We just end up killing you with our strength and fighting powers.” He explained, never hearing of a vampire and werewolf crossbred. He didn’t think it was possible, but who knew. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying getting his hair played with. A smirk crept up his face when he was accused of being vulgar. “I’m just a vulgar guy, that’s all. I say what I think.” That was true as well, Alfred didn’t have much of a filter, especially around other immortals. He was a man who laughed and cried easily, who displayed all the emotions he had in his heart. It was just who he was, and he didn’t want to change anytime soon. He offered a cute act of nuzzling his cheek on Ivan’s thigh, wanting his attention again. Getting his hair played with was a major comfort. His body would relax, and calm down when someone’s fingers ran through his dirty blond locks. There was something about Ivan that offered him comfort, even if he was a vampire. His disgustingly sweet scent wasn’t bothering him anymore, and his soft voice was more soothing by the moment.

He smirks again when he hears about the blood type. “Oh? Then you’d love me. I’m O-positive.” He confessed, not scared since he knew Ivan wouldn’t bite him. If Ivan was going to drain him of his blood, he would have done it by now. Ivan didn’t need to cuddle up with him on his sofa to do it. “I’m glad my werewolf musk blocks it. Protects us from being victims of hungry, thirsty vampires like you. I’m not shocked at all that you work at a blood bank. I’m just surprised that you haven't noticed that you are stealing all the blood. How do you steal it anyway? Don’t they have protocols and stuff for this?” He questioned, always wondering how Ivan did it. He was either extremely talented, or the office was just stupid and lazy with their security. Who knew a man could get away with stealing countless pints of blood, but it was better than him going into town and murdering men in cold blood. “I’ll be honest... if you need some victims, I got a list of every sex offender, pedophile, and creep in town. Some people escape justice. So if you are hungry.... just tell me. I’ll get you a meal.” He had a sneaky grin, loving the idea of Ivan doing his dirty work. Instead of hunting these sickos in wolf form, his blood-sucking bunny could find a use for them.

It shut Ivan's small victory down when he heard about the ability. The possibility of seeing wolves walk around during the day skyrocketed and he wasn't sure where his emotions landed on the issue. Everything about having the upper hand over someone was comforting to him, but he felt as if it wasn't that overwhelming. Alfred was harmless and most of his worries about werewolves came from prejudice. The only rivalry between the two creatures was one he welcomed. He had fun flirting with and teasing Alfred, but he didn't want to risk being too attached. If something were to come up that jeopardized his facade, then he'd have to book it out of New York with his sisters not far behind. Knowing Alfred's own immortality, he was sure the situation would be the same for him. He'd end up miserable if he grew even fonder of the man only to disappear the next day. Anyone else, he didn't care to shatter their heart, but the cute playful furball was just too hopeless. "You talk like a child telling me about how strong their favorite superhero is when you describe your own species." He humored, rolling his eyes at the nonchalant bragging. There wasn't much that annoyed him about Alfred, the man was pleasant to be around, but he had his own honor to attend to. Being a blood seeker wasn't glamorous by all means, but he had to defend what was a part of him. The relief felt from immunity still didn't suffice against the show off's insistence. Every step of the conversation was an act for him to prove that he could stand up against a werewolf; the worn-out joke tired him. He wanted to feel comfortable around Alfred, but nothing felt genuine as if he was waiting for something specific to come out. It reminded him of a patient puppy. Most stereotypes held about the bouncing, yapping few. Like dogs, they roll onto their back and practically beg to be pet, loved on at the very least.

Giving in before the manchild started whining, he scrubbed his fingers along Alfred's scalp and through his strands. His eyes lit up at the confession, a big grin attached to his face. "Oh really? It's the most common blood type... but the most special to me. The rarity of it is only measured by my own longing for it." He wormed the corners of his mouth slowly down to mask his eagerness to jump on Alfred and dine out. "It's a very sweet taste- you should let me lap up any cuts you have in the future. I'll come over in a heartbeat and suck your wounds dry." The talk of blood left him parched, he distracted himself by fluffing up Alfred's hair. He wasn't entirely sure how his blood stash was known by the mutt, but he wasn't about to question it. His trust was growing high enough that he didn't care. "Most people don't know a pint from a pint and a half... it's a little dangerous for the donors, but I do sneak out an extra snack for myself when I think someone's gullible- so, I'm technically not stealing from the blood bank because they still get their pint of blood... I just drain another pint for myself. " He assured, hoping Alfred wouldn't rat him out. It would slip his mind often that the man was a cop. The only reason staff picked up on his master plan was the high rate of lightheaded donors coming out of his section. Now and then, they sent someone to check the equipment he was using, but nothing came of it. He's slowed on the packs he takes home to cool down the heat trailing behind his tail. "I might take you up on that offer someday, but my hands haven't been this clean of blood in a while... Unless you're in dire need of my assistance then I can help mark off some names for you- at a price, of course." Leaning down, he placed a chaste kiss to Alfred's forehead and gently brushed back the hair in his way. "Come over to the blood bank and I'll give you a donut if you behave... then maybe we can go track down some pedophiles and rip them apart together."

Alfred didn’t have too many plans for leaving the town soon. He only had lived there for a few years, and he knew he could get away with his non-aging status for a while. People usually only would start to talk about how young he looked. Alfred would just lie and credit on genetics. ’My parents look super young too. ‘Our whole family doesn’t age.’ he’d lie, and it worked. He looked young and was young to everyone else, so no one questioned his age. He guessed he could last until he was in his mid-thirties before people thought it was just downright weird that he hadn't aged. It was why he attempted to stay out of the spotlight. Keep to himself a few groups of friends. It was hard, he was an extrovert. He is a popular personality, everyone would know who he was and wanted to be around him. But that changed when his mortality did, and unless he wanted to become a scientific experiment for the government, he had to keep a low profile. But he always came out at night, hitting clubs and finding relief in intimacy. If he couldn’t be surrounded by dozens of friends, he’d surround himself with pretty girls and boys, even if it was just one night. A sucker for love, it was even more troubling knowing he couldn’t get into a relationship with anyone. That was the hardest about this life, knowing he’ll always be alone. Almost everyone in his pack was male and straight. How come there were only a few queer werewolves? He was aware that he should branch out to new immortals, but it was difficult since his pack was so tight. There was a sense of betrayal being around other werewolf packs, it was frowned down. Your pack was your family, case closed. You suffered with them.

[ Here is the link to my Ao3, thank you if you read it <3 ]

#rusame #amerus #aph russia #aph america #fanfic #I've just decided to keep it in its OG format #but i still edit for flow #yeee everyone have a good night

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ill-will-editions · 4 years

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THE FUNERAL OF SALVATORE RICCIARDI: Celebrating a friend and comrade, while taking over public space again

WU MING

A final farewell to Salvo, to the songs of Su, communists of the capital! "This rebellious city, never tamed by ruins and bombings…"

Of all the measures taken during this emergency, the ban on funeral services is among the most dehumanizing.

In the name of what idea of "life" have these measures been taken? In the prevailing rhetoric of these past few weeks, life has been reduced almost entirely to the survival of the body, to the detriment of any other dimension of it. In this there is a very strong thanatophobic connotation (from the Greek Thanatos, or death), a morbid fear of dying.

Thanatophobia has permeated our society for decades. Already in 1975, the historian Philippe Ariès, in his landmark History of Death in the West, noted that death, in capitalist societies, had been "domesticated", bureaucratized, partly deritualized and separated as much as possible from the living, in order to "spare [...] society the disturbance and too strong emotion" of dying, and maintain the idea that life "is always happy, or at least must always look like it”.

To this end, he continues, it was strategic "to shift the site where we die. We no longer die at home, among family members, we die at the hospital, alone [...] because it has become inconvenient to die at home". Society, he said, must "realize as little as possible that death has occurred". This is why many rituals related to dying are now considered embarrassing and in a phase of disuse.

Even before the state of emergency we are experiencing, the rituality of dying had been reduced to a minimum. That is why we have always been so impressed by the manifestations of its re-emergence. Think of the worldwide success of a film like The Barbarian Invasions by Denys Arcand.

Forty-five years ago, Ariès wrote: "no one has the strength or patience to wait for weeks for a moment [death, Editor's note] that has lost its meaning". And what does the 2003 Canadian film depict if not a group of people waiting for weeks - in a context of conviviality and re-emerging secular rituality - the passing of a friend?

Eight years ago we undertook, together with many others, to set up an environment of conviviality and secular rituality around a dear friend and companion, Stefano Tassinari, in the weeks leading up to his death and in the ceremonies that followed. Much of our questioning on this subject dates back to that time.

If the rituality linked to dying was already reduced to a minimum, the ban on attending the funeral of a loved one had finally annihilated it.

Back on March 25th we shared a beautiful letter from a parish priest from Reggio, Don Paolo Tondelli, who was dismayed at the scenes he had to witness:

"And so I find myself standing in front of the cemetery, with three children of a widowed mother who died alone at the hospital because the present situation does not allow for the assistance of the sick. They cannot enter the cemetery, the measures adopted do not allow it. So they cry: they couldn't say goodbye to their mother when she gave up living, they can't say goodbye to her even now while she is being buried. We stop at the cemetery gate, in the street, I am bitter and angry inside, I have a strong thought: even a dog is not taken to the grave like this. I think we have exaggerated for a moment in applying the rules in this way, we are witnessing a dehumanization of essential moments in the life of every person; as a Christian, as a citizen I cannot remain silent [...] I say to myself: we are trying to defend life, but we are running the risk of not conserving the mystery that is so closely linked to it".

This "mystery" is not the exclusive prerogative of the Christian faith nor of those possessing a religious sensibility, since it does not necessarily coincide with the belief in the immortal soul or anything else, but something that we all ask ourselves, when we ask, 'what does it mean to live?' 'What distinguishes living from merely moving on or simply not dying?

That said, those who are believers and observers have experienced the suspension of ritual ceremonies - including funeral masses - as an attack on their form of life. It is no coincidence that among the examples of clandestine organization that we have heard about these days, there is the catacombal continuation of Christian public life.

We have direct evidence that in many parishes the faithful continued to attend mass, despite the signs on the doors saying they were suspended. One finds the "hard core" of the parishioners in the refectory of the convent, or in the rectory, or in the sacristy and in some cases in the church. Twenty, thirty people, summoned by word of mouth. In particular last Thursday, for the Missa in coena Domini.

The same can be said of funerals. In this case as well we have direct testimonies of priests who officiated small rites, with close family members, without publicity.

In the past few days, we have identified three types of disobedience to some of the stupidest and most inhumane features of the lock-down.

Individual disobedience

The individual gesture is often invisible but occasionally it is showy, as in the case of that runner on the deserted beach of Pescara, hunted by security guards for no reason that has any epidemiological basis. The video went viral, and had the effect of demonstrating the absurdity of certain rules and their obtuse application.

Continuing to run was, objectively and in its outcome, a very effective performance, an action of resistance and "conflictual theatre". Continuing to run distinguishes qualitatively that episode from the many others which offer "only" further evidence of repression. As Luigi Chiarella "Yamunin" wrote, the video brings to mind,

"a passage from Crowds and Power by Elias Canetti on grasping, which is indeed a gesture of the hand but also and above all is 'the decisive act of power where it manifests itself in the most evident way, from the most remote times, among animals and among men'. Later, he adds - and here comes the part pertinent to the episode of the runner - that 'there is nevertheless a second powerful gesture, certainly no less essential even if not so radiant. Sometimes one forgets, under the grandiose impression aroused by grasping, the existence of a parallel and almost equally important action: not letting oneself be grasped". The video [...] reminded me how powerful and liberating it is not to let yourself be caught. Then I don't forget that if you run away you do it to come back with new weapons, but in the meantime you must not let yourself be grabbed."

Clandestine group disobedience

These are the practices of the parishioners who organize themselves to go to mass on the sly, of the family members of a dearly departed person who agree with the parish priest to officiate a funeral rite... but also of the groups who continue in one way or another to hold meetings, of the bands who continue to rehearse, and of the parents who organize themselves together with a teacher to retrieve their children's school books. It's an episode that happened in a city in Emilia, which we recounted a few days ago.

In order to retrieve the books from a first grade school that had been left at school for the last month, a teacher came to the school, took the books out hidden in a shopping cart, and entrusted them to two parents who live near a baker and a convenience store respectively, so that the other parents could go and pick them up with the "cover" of buying groceries, avoiding possible fines. The books were given to the individual parents by lowering them with a rope from a small balcony and stuffed into shopping bags or between loaves of bread, as if they were hand grenades for the Resistance. In this way those children will at least be able to follow the program on the book with the teacher in tele-education, and the parents will be able to have support for the inevitable homeschooling.

After a phase of shock in which unconditional obedience and mutual guilt prevailed, sectors of civil society - and even "interzone" between institutions and civil society - are reorganizing themselves "in hiding". In this reorganization it is implicit that certain restrictions are considered incongruous, irrational, indiscriminately punitive.

Furthermore: at the beginning of the emergency, parental chats were, in general, among the worst hotbeds of panic, culture of suspicion, toxic voice messages, calls for denunciation. The fact that now some of them are also being used to circumvent delusional prohibitions - why shouldn't a teacher be able to retrieve the textbooks left in the classroom? why should a dad or a mom have to resort to subterfuge, self-certification, etc. to retrieve those books? - is yet another proof that the "mood" has changed.

Provocative group disobedience

The performance of the trio from Rimini - a man and two women - who had sex in public places and put the videos online, accompanied with insults hurled at the police, is part of this rarefied case history.

The police have since held a grudge against the case, as exemplified by their official social channels.

The only thing missing from this catalog of disobedience is, of course...

Claimed group disobedience

Here we have in mind visible, and no longer merely clandestine collective disobedience.

For a moment we feared that the fascists would be the first to bring it into play. Forza Nuova attempted to leverage the dismay of believers in the prospect of an Easter “behind closed doors,” and without the Via Crucis. However, when leaflets circulated calling for a procession to St. Peter's Basilica tomorrow (Sunday 4.12), accompanied by mottos such as "In hoc signo vinces" and "Rome will not know an Easter without Christ", they were dismayed to find that it wasn't the Fascists who were behind them. Instead, it was our comrades and friends from Radio Onda Rossa and the Roman liberatory movement who, this morning, in S. Lorenzo, greeted Salvatore Ricciardi with what in effect became the first political demonstration in the streets since the beginning of the emergency.

Salvatore Ricciardi, 80 years old, was a pillar of the Roman antagonist left. A former political prisoner, for many years he was involved in fights inside prisons and against prison conditions. He did so in a number of books and countless broadcasts on Radio Onda Rossa, which yesterday dedicated a moving four-hour live special to him. He continued to do so until even a few days ago, on his blog Contromaelstrom, writing about imprisonment and coronavirus.

Headlines about this morning's events can already be read in the mainstream press. A precise chronicle, accompanied by some valuable remarks, can be heard in this phone call from an editor of Radio Onda Rossa [here]. Among other things, our comrade points out: "here there are rows of people standing in front of the butchers shop for days and days, yet we cannot even bid farewell to the dead? [...] We're in the open air, while in Rome there's not even a requirement to wear a mask and yet many people had masks, and there were only a few people anyway"...Yet the police still threatened to use a water cannon to disperse a funeral ritual. The part of the district where the seditious gathering took place was closed and those present were detained by police.

During this emergency, we’ve seen so many surreal scenes - today, to offer just one example, a helicopter took to the sky, wasting palates of public money, in pursuit of a single citizen walking on a Sicilian beach - and even still, this morning's apex had not yet been reached.

For our part, we say kudos and solidarity to those who run, and are out running great risks to claim their right to live together - in public space that they have always crossed with their bodies and filled with their lives - out of pain and mourning for the loss of Salvo, but also out of happiness for having had him as a friend and companion.

"Because the bodies will return to occupy the streets. Because without the bodies there is no Liberation."

That's what we were writing yesterday, taking up the “Song of el-'Aqila Camp”. We reaffirm our belief that it will happen. And the government fears it too: is it by chance that just today Minister Lamorgese warned against "hotbeds of extremist speech"?

In her telephone interview, the Radio Onda Rossa editor says that the current situation, in essence, could last a year and a half. Those in power would like it to be a year and a half without the possibility of protest. They are prepared to use health regulations to prevent collective protests and struggles. Managing the recession with sub iudice civil rights is ideal for those in power.

It is right to disobey absurd rules

We should point out once again that, whilst keeping a population under house arrest, while prohibiting funerals, and de jure or de facto preventing anyone from taking a breath of fresh air - which is almost a unique phenomenon in the West, since only Spain follows us on this - and while shaming individual conduct like jogging, going out "for no reason", or shopping "too many times"...while this whole little spectacle is going on, Italy remains the European country with the highest COVID-19 mortality rate. Good peace of mind for those who spoke of an "Italian model" to be imitated by other countries.

Who is responsible for such a debacle? It is not a hard question to answer: it was the people who did not establish a medical cordon around Alzano and Nembro in time, because the owner asked them not to; it was those who spread infection in hospitals through an impressive series of negligent decisions; those who turned RSAs and nursing homes into places of mass coronavirus death; and lastly, those who, while all this was happening, diverted public attention toward nonsense and harmless behavior, while pointing the finger at scapegoats. This was blameworthy, even criminal behavior.

Everywhere in the world the coronavirus emergency has presented a golden opportunity to restrict the spaces of freedom, settle accounts with unwelcome social movements, profit from the behavior to which the population is forced, and restructure to the detriment of the weakest.

Italy adds to all this its standard surfeit of irrational ravings. The exceptionality of our "model" of emergency management lies in its complete overturning of scientific logic. For it is one thing to impose - for good (Sweden) or for bad (another country at random) - physical distancing as a necessary measure to reduce the possibility of contagion; it is quite another to lock the population in their homes and prevent them from leaving except for reasons verified by police authorities. The jump from one to the other imposed itself alongside the idea - also unfounded - that one is safe from the virus while "indoors", whereas "outdoors" one is in danger.

Everything we know about this virus tells us exactly the opposite, namely that the chances of contracting it in the open air are lower, and if you keep your distance even almost zero, compared to indoors. On the basis of this self-evidence, the vast majority of countries affected by the pandemic not only did not consider it necessary to prevent people from going out into the open air generally, as they did in France, but in some cases even advised against it.

In Italy, this radius is, at best, two hundred meters from home, but there are municipalities and regions that have reduced it to zero meters. For those who live in the city, such a radius is easily equivalent to half a block of asphalt roads, which are much more crowded than in the open space outside the city, if it could be reached. For those who live in the countryside, however, or in sparsely populated areas, a radius of two hundred meters is equally absurd, since the probability of meeting someone and having to approach them is infinitely lower than in an urban center.

Not only that: we have seen that very few countries have introduced the obligation to justify their presence outdoors by authorizations, certificates, and receipts, even calculating the distance from home using Google Maps. This is also an important step: it means putting citizens at the mercy of law enforcement agencies.

We have recorded cases of hypertensive people, with a medical prescription recommending daily exercise for health reasons, fined €500; or people fined because they were walking with their pregnant partner, to whom the doctor had recommended walking. The list of abuses and idiocies would be long, and one may consult our website for further examples.

Legal uncertainty, the arbitrariness of police forces, the illogical limitation of behavior that presents no danger to anyone, are all essential elements of the police state.

Having to respect an illogical, irrational norm is the exercise of obedience and submission par excellence.

It will never be "too soon" to rebel against such obligations.

It must be done, before it’s too late.

Translated by Ill Will Editions

#Italy #COVID19 #defiance #coronavirus #state of exception

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captain-aralias · 5 years

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Vampirism for fun and profit

We learned some good stuff about vampires from ‘Wayward Son’. Here’s a list, because like @sharkmartini says - it could come in useful. (To fic writers, I assume; not vampires who are new to vampirism.)

Big ticket items are obviously to do with ageing and the effects of vampire bites. I will also add in - the vampire thrall, which is a significant new ability we didn’t know about.

Ageing and immortality:

Lots of this obviously has to be taken with a pinch of salt, as it comes from Lamb who is not a reliable source. I assume it is the truth - but given that we have no proof, it could easily be ignored or disproved in fic or later books.

It’s strongly implied that vampires are immortal unless killed. Also, they either have very slow ageing or don’t age.

Lamb implies repeatedly that he’s around 300 years old (when vampire society was very different), asks Baz how old he is “really”, and the NowNext vampires specifically want vampirism because it stops them ageing.

"I pre-date choice. ... All my people understood was war and hunger, and demons who came in the dark." (Chapter 52)

Does vampirism stop ageing immediately? @krisrix theorises that it’s to do with drinking human blood, rather than animal blood, which makes sense to me. However, we might also hypothosise that since Lamb’s brother killed his parents before he went for Lamb, it’s possible he was much younger than the 34 he claims to appear to be when he was turned and has now aged to around 34.

There’s plenty still to play with here - Baz isn’t very good at asking questions about his condition, and did not get information about what loopholes exist.

Lamb also claims that you can’t stop being a vampire, but presumably he has never tried:

"You won't feel so close to them, the Normals, once you've outlived your ties to mortality ... There's no unbecoming, Baz. There's no sidestepping your true identity. All the rabbits in the world won't change you back. They'll just leave you thirsty." (Chapter 52)

The Turn and other effects of vampire bites:

I was willing to challenge this one when we just had ‘Carry On’, although it’s presented as pure fact that Baz’s fangs will turn someone into a vampire. But of course he literally does not know. (Which is all the proof you should need that everything is up for grabs, unless Baz has experienced himself. And even then, we might be able to write it off later because he’s so isolated and doesn’t know how to be a vampire.)

Again - none of this is provable as once again nobody thinks to get any evidence for Lamb’s claims or Shepard’s hearsay. (Why not look up that guy who got bitten? Isn’t this relevant to your life, Baz?) However it seems likely that not all bites result in someone becoming a vampire.

"Oh I doubt he Turned him," Shepard says, smothering his chips in ketchup. "Vampires hate to Turn people. They either take a sip and let you go - or drain you dry"

Lamb says the same thing:

"So you don't Turn people?" "Rarely. Most of don't want the chaos and competition. Almost no one wants the responsibility." (Chapter 52)

However, it’s worth noting here again that when he talks about his brother he states that his brother didn’t want a “comrade”; he was “thirsty”. So it seems like if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can definitely Turn someone accidentally.

If, however, you do know what you’re doing, you don’t have to kill or Turn. Again - we primarily hear from the vampire’s POV, but Lamb strongly and repeatedly implies that people like being bitten.

"No need to leave a corpse when you can leave a satisfied customer, you know?" (Chapter 44)

"Because I didn't enjoy being bitten." "Then someone was doing it wrong." (Chapter 52)

You could argue that this is supported by the sight of the Normal (?) girl Baz sees at the party, who does seem to be having a good time.

"A Very beautiful woman - a girl my age - stumbles past me, laughing. There's blood streaked down her neck" (Chapter 44)

Not entirely sure whether the guy who gets bitten later in the chapter is enjoying it, though, so ... again, room to play with whatever.

"The man's neck goes limp. His head droops back, his hat falls off. His eyes immediately glaze over. I've seen that face on a deer before." (Chapter 44)

Turn is always capitalised, btw.

Different kinds of blood:

Shephard notes that Baz looks greyer than the rest of the vampires:

Not as drained and ghostly. If this is what a vampire is supposed to look like, then maybe Baz is a vampire with an iron deficiency." (Chapter 53)

Lamb probably confirms that Baz’s colour and the kind of blood he drinks are related:

"No wonder you're so pale. You're malnourished."(Chapter 50)

The NextBlood vampires are probably all really new vampires (like - the last 10 years), but they don’t look like Baz. They look incredibly healthy and are almost certainly surviving on human blood they get from somewhere. They don’t drink blood; they transfuse.

"They don't even drink, Baz - they transfuse. They won't touch anything that hasn't been tested frozen, and stored. I've heard they've started pasteurising.” (Chapter 50).

We also learned (and we learned this for sure) that you can fang-up or fang-down at will. (Chapter 50)

The smell of Simon:

Last time on ‘Baz doesn’t want to eat his friends but he also does’, he told Simon he smelt like bacon and cinamon buns (CO, Chapter 71) - although he might have been being metaphorical. (I tend to think not, but could be convinced.) Later, at the leaver’s ball, he says Simon’s smell has changed - and now he smells like “something sweet and brown. No more green fire and brimstone.” (CO, Epilogue)

This time we get a new description, although it tallies with the CO Epilogue.

Simon smells like the kitchen after you pop popcorn and melt butter. There's a singe to it, with a round, yellow, fatty feeling that sticks to the roof of your mouth. Bunce is sharper and sweeter - vinegar and treacle. (Chapter 14)

And when Simon is shot:

Simon's blood smells like brown butter. (Chapter 60)

Baz tries to block this out with Altoids, which he must buy specially from some sort of posh-person shop because I’ve never seen them on sale.

They're very good for blocking out blood smells. Especially the spearmint flavour." (Chapter 55)

The thrall and other vampire abilities:

There’s not much to say about this, but I thought it came out of nowhere. And I know the gang had lots of worry about but no one was like, holy shit - vampires can do that??

Lamb did something to me. Hypnotized me or something. (Chapter 55)

In this particular case Shepard appears to those around him to be napping. (Is that all the thrall can do? We have no information.) It doesn’t feel good once it wears off.

I'm still a little hungover from my vampire thrall. (Chapter 50)

The other abilities are all confirmation of, or build on, things we learned in ‘Carry On’.

Advanced hearing: Lamb and Baz are both able to hear Simon’s heartbeat. (Chapter 52)

All senses are particularly advanced at night (which I think might be knew. We know they don’t like sunlight, but this seems to be more than that. Like - senses get better.) Although I treat this as the least trustworthy piece of information Lamb gives us as it’s just before the betrayal. (Chapter 54)

Vampires move in a particularly stealthy way that is very noticeable:

Vampires aren't especially beautiful (though some are). That's a myth, I think - vampire beauty. What they are is especially rich. And especially ... liquid. They move like oil, like shadows. Like cats. (Chapter 44)

General speed, strength, feeling like a brick wall if you punch them, faster healing (to go with not getting sick in CO).

I know that I heal faster than other people. (More proof that I'm nota person.) But I've never really tested my limits. No one's ever emptied a shotgun into my chest or kicked me in the gut with steel-toed cowboy boots...

The worst I've been injured before this was when the numpties took me. I think my leg healed right away even then - but it healed wrong because I was stuck in that coffin.

Before that, there were fights with Simon. A few black eyes over the years, a split lip. I healed fast from those injuries, but so did he. I think Simon's magic used to heal him, even when he couldn't cast the spells to heal himself. (Chapter 37)

Vampire weaknesses:

I don’t think much is new here, but as Baz remarks at the end, we certainly do know a lot about how to kill vampires. Some methods include: fire, beheading, being possessed by a demon and then getting a vampire to bite you, staking.

The vampire impaled on my axe handle has already started to wither. Like it was the magic in his heart holding him together. I pull back the stake, and he falls - a man-shaped pile of blood and boots and ashes. (Chapter 22)

Methods that don’t work include: gunshot and potentially most other weapons, although I can’t tell whether the Ren Fayre weapons are just terrible. (I assumed they were, and that this was hilarious.)

There’s a bit more information about crosses as well. I thought Doctor Wellbelove had given Simon a specific vampire talisman, but apparently literally any cross will do, bonus points for silver. (Simon’s is gold.)

There are at least three people wearing crosses sitting near me. One of them must be silver; my nose won't stop running. (Chapter 9)

This makes me think that maybe what happened was that Simon said ‘my roommate’s a vampire, help!’ and Agatha’s dad was like, I don’t think so, Simon, but OK here you go - here’s a cross that will protect you from the, ahem, “vampire”. It was supposed to be a placebo, but since no one knows anything about vampires, Simon got back to school and Baz was like ‘argh, wtf is this??”

(N.B. It makes no sense to me that the cross thing is real, btw. Not all crosses are blessed, which means they’re just shapes. Why would vampires be repelled by a shape?)

Vampires get sunburnt. And go black, rather than red. (Chapter 16) Baz thinks it might not heal, but it does, just more slowly.

Baz, at least, can get drunk. Lamb implies that other vampires don’t - is this because Baz is a weirdo vampire, or because he just isn’t a big drinker? I assume the latter, but could be convinced of the former.

History and society:

There’s a lot of stuff about the Las Vegas vampires, which I’m not recording because there’s lots of it and I’m mostly interested in this stuff for Baz-related fic and I’m assuming he will never go back to Vegas.

Are things like vampires being ‘tight lipped’ and vampires being ‘over the top’ specific to Las Vegas or the species? I assume it’s cultural and specific to the Vegas vampires.

Some famous UK vampire killings:

"I remember hearing, back in the fifties, that there wasn't a single one of us left in the UK - that Old Man Pitch had driven us out, like St Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland." (Chapter 44)

And of course Beatrix Potter apparently murdered every vampire in Lancashire.

You can apparently get a medal for slaying vampires. (Chapter 23) And all the shit the Mage did pales in comparison with him chatting to vampires. It doesn’t even seem to matter what he asked them to do for him (i.e. murder someone) - it’s literally just talking to them. (Chapter 37) The World of Mages is fucked up.

Baz doing other vampire stuff:

"Pork is the worst, sometimes I have to leave the Watford dining hall on days they served bacon" (Chapter 50)

Baz has also read Ann Rice and once ate his own dog. (Chapter 22)

That’s all I got!

According to the Kindle copy I have, the word ‘vampire’ (including vampires, but not vampirism) is mentioned 302 times in ‘Wayward Son’ compared to only 162 times in ‘Carry On’.

If you spot anything I missed, have other theories about vampires, or just want to talk about how Baz is a vampire, please let me know.

#wayward son spoilers #wayward son #carry on

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 5: The Return of Mysterio

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

We finish off our coverage of Mysterio’s history by bringing us up to date. We will also be covering more MJ centric events as we set up for AMJ #1.

Welcome to the 2010s!

Beck’s Back Baby!

Marvel truly brought the original Mysterio back in early 2010 as part of the overarching ‘Gauntlet’ event running through Brand New Day. However, later retcons from the ‘Spider-Men’ mini-series revealed he’d actually been back even earlier than that. He simply opted to concentrate his efforts on Earth 1610/the Ultimate Universe.

Because I do not want to go through the agony of refreshing my memory of BND or Slott’s run I shall instead simply take note of one significant event Mysterio participated in during the latter.

In the ‘Ends of the Earth’ arc (ASM #682-687) Mysterio was knowingly complicit in Doc Ock’s scheme to seemingly fix global warming. In reality it was the dying doctor’s goal to mass murder half the planet so that he’d be immortalized in the minds of the survivors as worse than Hitler.

Long story short, Otto planned to use space tech to manipulate the sun’s rays and direct them at whatever areas of the Earth he chose. In effect he could heat up or cool down whatever areas of the planet he wished.

It all kicked off in ASM #682 when Otto used his weapon to target half the world and heat it up. Known areas affected included New York City, Illinois, Rio De Janeiro and Ontario. The art depicts animals suffering or dying along with masses of people enduring severe pain and with some passing out; presumably from serious heat stroke.

Ock claimed this was merely a demonstration of what the real life effects of global warming would be. His intent was merely to shock people into accepting his solution of using this same technology to resolve the climate crisis. However, even if he were sincere (which he absolutely wasn’t) he still would’ve caused a lot of unnecessary harm to up to 3.5 billion people and many more animals and wildlife.

Sure, this is all Ock’s scheme and none of the Sinister Six seemed to know his true intent. But his initial demonstration was still sadistic and harmful even if no one died (which is frankly contrived and ridiculous). Mysterio still went along with it, and as ASM #684-685 proved it was for purely selfish reasons. As payment for ending global warming Otto wanted to have the Sinister Six’s criminal records expunged and $2 billion paid to each of them.

Granted later (for equally selfish reasons) Beck switched sides. But that still demonstrates what a bad person he ultimately was.

The thing to bear in mind is that this was all highly public. EVERYONE on Earth knew about this and MJ was depicted on panel as a witness among the billions of onlookers. So she knows Mysterio only helped save the world out of selfishness and was willing to harm billions of people out of similar selfishness.

Invasion>Attention>Reconciliation?

One last time skip brings us to the home stretch; Nick Spencer’s run on ASM.

In the first issue of Spencer’s run we learn that Mysterio has fabricated a highly believable alien invasion (chiefly utilizing practical effects) at the heart of town.

Daredevil, the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy are among the heroes who’ve assembled to deal with the crisis. Beck’s effects are so convincing that he has all of them fooled and thus unable to resolve the situation. That’s pretty impressive when you consider that between them they’ve got immense intelligence, scanning technology and hyper senses.

This is yet further proof of just how skilful a trickster Mysterio is.

Peter defeats Beck but almost dies in the attempt.

Prompted by his experiences that night and by Mysterio’s own words, Peter sought out MJ.

Upon finding her he relayed (without specifying details) how he almost died earlier and how this put things into perspective for him. The end result of their talk is that he and MJ finally reconcile.

In the last instalment I spoke about how Peter clearly keeps MJ abreast of most of his super heroics; or at least did when they were married.

Let’s bear that in mind as we consider this specific situation

After years of separation and false starts at reconciliation, the magic has finally been rekindled between them.

It happened the very same night as, and in direct response to, an event involving Mysterio.

An event we already know Peter mentioned to MJ without specifying details.

An event that involved a deliberately public staging of an alien invasion at the heart of Manhattan! An invasion that involved the Avengers no less! And one of whom (Iron Man) MJ worked for until very recently.

Whether that night or soon thereafter it is extremely likely Mary Jane would’ve learned that Mysterio was behind the event in question.

Peter would’ve told her. It beguiles beliefs that he would’ve done otherwise. In the seminal ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’ storyline Peter was completely missing for two weeks, buried alive by Kraven the Hunter. Within hours of crawling out of the ground Peter reunited with Mary Jane and the dialogue clearly conveys that he informed her what happened off-panel.

Furthermore, in the one shot ‘Soul of the Hunter’ Peter deals with some of the aftermath from ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’. Specifically he believes he has seen Kraven the Hunter’s ghost. After this encounter Peter’s told MJ what happened, further proving my point. However, his dialogue also implies he regularly confides in her or feels obliged to be honest with her.

Additionally, as discussed last time, off-panel he obviously must’ve told MJ that he confirmed Mysterio’s death.

For the sake of argument though let’s say Peter didn’t elaborate. That being the case, then Mary Jane would’ve likely asked for a little more information.

Peter’s nearly died countless times before and during their separation. But on this specific occasion he was prompted to seek her out. Why? What was so special about this time?

Let’s remember MJ has studied psychology and worked as an actress, both of which entail a healthy dose of inquisitiveness.*

She also has a knack for getting in Peter’s head. This fact was stated and demonstrated as far back as Spec #85 (if not earlier).

Another example of this skill can be found in the ‘Soul of the Hunter’ one shot. In this story MJ recognizes Peter’s guilt and trauma over what Kraven did to him and the hunter’s consequent suicide.

In her younger days MJ also had a curiosity regarding Peter after she initially learned he was Spider-Man. In Untold Tales of Spider-Man #16 displayed this acutely, depicting MJ even following Spidey on one of his adventures.

More poignantly let’s put ourselves in MJ’s shoes for the moment.

The love of your life just randomly showed up at your home, proclaimed they nearly died and now wants to get back together after years apart.

Wouldn’t you want some more details? Wouldn’t scepticism or basic curiosity or concern lead you to discover more?

But let’s severely stretch the suspensions of disbelief. Let’s say that at no point did she nor Peter talk about what led to their reconciliation. Even accepting that, surely Mary Jane would’ve heard about Mysterio’s involvement.

Super powered people are hot news in general. Peter for example was able to reliably make money from selling Spider-Man photos for years. In Mysterio’s case, he was one of the few costumed criminals who actively designed his look and schemes to be attention grabbing. It was pivotal to his plan back in ASM #13 and his entire life has been built around a desire to put on a show and be centre stage.

More importantly, the sheer scale of his crime and the number of heroes involved in combatting it (which included ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’) would’ve been serious news. It would’ve been covered by pretty much any news service Mary Jane cared to consult. That’s not even mentioning just general conversation occurring around MJ during her daily routine.

Basically osmosis would ensure MJ learned of Mysterio’s involvement.

That’d be especially true considering he is a villain she, her lover, her friends and her family have had direct dealings with. If it were Moses Magnum she’d have still found out about it. But to say she would’ve remained in the dark when it was specifically one of Peter’s enemies is ridiculous.

Within MJ’s memory Mysterio isn’t a villain who’d simply be lost in the sea of freaks and weirdos Peter combats. He’d stand out even among them due to various factors:

His duels with Spidey. Spider-Man has battled a lot of costumed villains but when you look at his history he doesn’t actually fight all that many repeatedly. The ones that he does amount to just over two-dozen. It basically amounts to most (but not all) of the villains introduced in the first 50 issues plus several few others, most notably Venom, Carnage, Hobgoblin and Jackal.

His bizarre appearance. Mysterio designed it specifically to be attention grabbing and even amongst Spidey’s regular rogues it’s the most baffling. He wears a fishbowl for a head!

His involvement acts of public terror. These include his TV message from ASM #66 and ‘Ends of the Earth’. The latter was probably the single most global scheme any of Peter’s villains have ever participated in and a highly publicised affair. In fact all six of the villains involved in that would realistically stand out in most anybody’s mind!

The regularity of his fights with Spidey. Mysterio isn’t the Big Wheel or the Hypno-Hustler. He’s one of just over two-dozen foes Peter regularly tangles with.

His personally targeting MJ and her loved ones. MJ was abducted by Mysterio (remember she didn’t know it was actually Berkhart) and lived a fake life as a result. One of MJ’s mother figures had her death faked by Mysterio, which broke the heart of her beloved Aunt Anna. The love of her life was framed by Mysterio early in his career and had his sense of sanity and confidence attacked by him, not to mention his workplace (see FNSM #12). If you wish to count it, Mysterio also faked the death of her ex-boyfriend and long time friend Harry Osborn.

His actions violent actions in ‘Guardian Devil’. Even if one argues MJ only knew what she heard on the news the extreme level of violence Mysterio engaged in was unusual for one of Peter’s foes. The Goblins or the symbiotes might do stuff like that, but most of Peter’s other foes aren’t nearly as bloody as Mysterio was in that story. In fact Mysterio himself hadn’t been prior to that so this would’ve been a surprise. As such this would very likely stick in MJ’s mind on some level.

His suicide. Arguably above anything else he’d done, Beck’s suicide would’ve made him stand out amongst Peter’s foes. Few of Peter’s major enemies have seemingly definitively died and only 3 could be said to have done so by taking their own lives. Considering how Mary Jane isn’t going to be forgetting Kraven in a hurry someone intentionally copying him is inevitably going to stick out to her.

All of which is to say that MJ isn’t going to lose track of who Beck is. She isn’t going to treat him as simply another costumed creep in a city chock full of them.

He might not stick out in her mind in the same ways (or to the same degree) as some of Peter’s other foes. But he’d definitely be among the foes that would stand out to her.

Heading for Hollywood

The fallout of Mysterio’s ‘invasion’ was chronicled in a back-up story in ASM v5 #1, wherein he stands trial. This further proves how serious and public his crime was. But it’s relevance lies in how it contextualizes Beck’s actions going into AMJ.

Mysterio is represented by lawyer Janice Lincoln (secretly a super villainess herself) who tries to get him a lighter sentence on the grounds of insanity.

Abruptly though, everyone (sans Beck) seemingly die as the courtroom is transformed into a nightmarish sight. Mysterio is then confronted by a powerful and demonic figure (eventually referred to as Kindred).

Their consequent conversation heavily implies that following his suicide in ‘Guardian Devil’ Mysterio went to Hell, was recruited by Kindred and resurrected to fulfil a mission on his behalf (the specifics aren’t clarified).

This mission is part of a larger campaign against Spider-Man, whose secret identity both Kindred and Beck are aware of. In fact Beck’s staged alien invasion was intended to dispense with the collected heroes on Kindred’s behalf.

Kindred gave Mysterio one more chance and Beck suddenly found himself back in the courtroom as though nothing had happened.

Convinced of his insanity he was sent to the Ravencroft institute for insane super villains, which is where we find him next in ASM v5 #24-25.

In these issues, we discover that Beck has manipulated his psychiatrist (Dr. Winhorst) into believing he is in fact Mysterio. At the same time Beck has readopted his guise and Dr. Rinehart. As Rinehart, Beck further manipulated Winhorst (dressed as Mysterio) into having a therapy session and nearly revealing Kindred’s real identity. This prompted Kindred to appear and murder Winhorst.

As Rinehart, Beck gave a statement to the police regarding ‘Mysterio’s’ death. This confirmed that the authorities had found a body and at least at that point in time believed it to be the real Mysterio. Since Beck has faked people’s deaths before (including his own) it is entirely plausible that he had the means to fool their methods of verifying the identity of the body. This would be the case even if the authorities used Marvel universe pseudoscience.

However the story never confirms if Mysterio’s death became public knowledge, the police may well have been keeping it quiet as they investigate further.

These are factors to bear in mind when we go forward.

Kindred catches up to Beck and reveals he is fully aware of the attempted deception. He chastises Beck for failing to fulfil his mission for him. Kindred admits though that had Beck done as he was asked he’d have been returned to Hell.

Instead of punishing him though Kindred instead produces a film script Beck wrote. He suggests that in his remaining time alive Beck fulfil his life’s dream and make the film a reality. His rationale for this is that Beck’s goals align with his.

Specifically that in giving Beck what he wants it will somehow deny something to someone else Kindred has a vendetta against. This leaves Beck confused.

In this same issue the new Electro takes an acquaintance of Mary Jane’s hostage and threatens to kill her on social media. Using her acting skills to deceive and distract Electro, Mary Jane manages to rescue her ‘friend’. Her social media performance is lauded and swiftly followed by her old agent contacting her and offering her a role in a new movie by a new writer/director, one who asked for her by name. This is of course Mysterio.

In ASM v5 #29 we see MJ rehearsing the script with Peter, as I mentioned earlier in this essay series. Something else to take note of though is that MJ and Peter mutually praise the script.

Anyway, as the issue proceeds Peter is divided about MJ’s departure. He wants her to be happy and pursue her career but also doesn’t want to lose her (again). Unfortunately Spider-Man business crops up causing him to miss her departure for L.A. There are no hard feelings and the couple are committed to maintaining a temporarily long-distance relationship. Nevertheless, this saddens Peter as we learn he was hoping to propose to Mary Jane.

I bring this issue up because it is not only directly continued in AMJ #1 but it provides potentially important context for our analysis of Beck moving forward.

Beck is making this movie for himself. However, he is fully aware his dangerous demonic overlord wants him to and has a vendetta against Spider-Man; whom Beck also knows is Peter Parker.

Kindred claimed that by allowing Beck to make his movie he’d be denying someone something they want. It is extremely likely that this ‘someone’ is Peter and the ‘something’ being denied is Mary Jane. This is evidenced by Kindred’s portrayal up to this point coupled with the sadness MJ’s departure caused to Peter.

What is a little more debatable is if Mysterio personally wanted MJ in his movie or if he requested her presence on Kindred’s orders. There is no on panel evidence of the latter and Mysterio’s confusion in ASM v5 #25 implies he doesn’t understand how making the movie will help Kindred.

On the other hand Beck is not unintelligent so if he knows Pete is Spidey and that Kindred is targeting him then it’s unlikely he couldn’t deduce Kindred’s meaning. After all, its unlikely that Beck wouldn’t do a little homework and found out the man who famously took photos of Spider-Man also had a long romance with the actress/supermodel Mary Jane Watson.

Furthermore there seems to be little rationale as to why Beck would want Mary Jane in his movie other than due to her connection to Spider-Man. Her acting credits are small and wouldn’t be all that impressive in his eyes. This supports the idea that MJ’s inclusion in the movie was due to Kindred not Beck. Or perhaps her involvement was something Beck wanted but that was due to her connection with Spidey, making her a pawn in his scheme.

Regardless, Mysterio likely knows MJ’s involvement plays heavily into what Kindred wants, even if he hypothetically doesn’t know exactly how. This makes his insistence upon using her unethical and his lack of honesty dangerous to her and her loved ones.

That just about brings us up to speed on Mysterio. Now we’re ready to truly get into the meat of the matter starting with Amazing Mary Jane #1.

*It could be argued this is the rationale behind making her a journalist in other continuities such as the Ultimate Universe or the Gamerverse.

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Master Post

#Amazing Mary Jane #Mysterio #Quentin Beck #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Leah Williams #spider-man #peter parker #Brand New Day #Dan Slott #Doctor Octopus #otto octavi #nick spencer #Avengers #Guardians of the Galaxy #Sinister Six

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chibipika · 5 years

Note

please talk about chapter 22

You just had to go and pick the chapter I’ve already rambled the most at length about, didn’t you?

…but I’m sure I can find more to talk about. ;P

So, for starters, the scene where Jade first sees rebels get shot by Team Rocket was actually one of the very first scenes rewritten for Revision 11! It was actually done so early that it’s in my “Revision 10.5” document , which means it was written back in 2010, when I thought Revision 11 would just be an upgrade of 10 (ahahaha… ha… ha). Back then I was still making edits in the existing document, as opposed to starting over from scratch. The reason this scene was singled out, of course, is that the old version of that scene was one of my least favorite in the entire fic, so much so that I listed it in the top 10 most embarrassing scenes in the fic (see #5: ow the edge).

…God, where do I even start with it. The forced, unnecessary swearing. The melodrama. The purple prose. The fact that Jade is just standing there relaying everything to us without doing anything.

I’d post the 2010 version but it’s honestly almost identical to the final 2017 publication. I had a very clear idea of how I wanted to fix it. The only thing it was missing was the names of the rebels, as they didn’t get named until I wrote Chapter 10 in 2015 (and the purpose of naming them was largely to make chapter 22 feel less impersonal. I hope it worked.)

So, let’s see, what else… I think I’ve already said everything there is to say about the Razors thing, including having multiple posts immortalizing the day I came up with it. I’m pretty sure Razors’s final words were one of the very first details I nailed down in that scene. Probably the hardest part was actually drawing it. I spent aaaaages doodling Chibi’s expression in the final panel on basically every scrap of paper around me. It had to be perfect.

I think my favorite part of Chapter 22 was actually the part where Jade sees Astrid and totally completely shuts down. That was a bit that I was really excited to add since–like most things regarding the torture in the old version–Jade was not nearly as affected as she should have been. I know it’s only like, a sentence long, but the moment where Astrid freezes up upon seeing how terrified Jade is… I love that bit so much:

“And for just a second she actually stopped, staring at me wide-eyed with an expression I couldn’t place. It was only for an instant—then her gaze hardened and she advanced toward us once more.”

…I mean, let’s just stop and pick apart that entire night from Starr’s point of view, shall we? She’s been assigned to lead a mission to exterminate the rebel team. She’s already under heavy suspicion when one of the few links to the rebel team escaped from under her watch, and despite knowing that she had nothing to do with it, she also knows that no one else is going to believe that for a second, especially since there’s already proof that this rebel has ties to Ajia, the source of all her problems last year. She already has to wear a permanent reminder of that.

So she knows that she absolutely 100% can’t screw this up or there will be a full-scale investigation. And she’s desperately trying to come up with some way, any way to get out of murdering her best friend. (She was actually considering sending in Raichu ahead of time to cause a stir–he wouldn’t have questioned it–but then Stalker tripped the alarm before the mission could get very far.)

And then she sees Jade outside the stadium, and gets hit in the face with two cubic tons of relief and guilt and frustration (so impossibly glad to see Jade alive but also so unbelievably frustrated to see her here, why is Jade always here) and also she’s still surrounded by her teammates and she can’t let any of them see her break character. So she does the only thing she knows how and reverts back to the script of terrorizing Jade, not really knowing what she even plans to do this time, just knowing that she has to do something.

And then there’s that moment. When Jade screams at her to get away, looking absolutely bloody terrified, and she has to look at that and realize, “I did this” and feel like the scum of the earth. That’s the first moment that she almost slips, every voice in her head screaming to grab Jade and run away.

…And it’s the realization that Jade almost certainly hates her guts and wants absolutely nothing to do with her, and that she’s already in too deep and can’t change that, can’t make up for it… that manages to snap her out of it and put her back into Rocket mode. But by that point the Absol experiment has already dragged Jade off, and Starr does not remotely have the drive to chase after them.

She finishes the mission in a daze, loses count of how many rebels her squad kills, doesn’t sleep that night, and then spends the next morning half-delirious, unable to think about anything other than making sure that she never has to go through this again.

#antialiasis #LC #writing #starr #pokemon fanfiction #director's commentary meme #why did I stay up until 1am writing commentary for a chapter that already had a commentary #this is a very me-ish thing to do isn't it #hope you enjoyed it ;D

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scrapbookofsketches-blog · 5 years

Text

I am blood hungry. Hear me hide.

This is a one shot about the sides being vampires and Virgil finding himself alone and afraid of hurting others.

Warnings for thinking about death (mentioned like twice but not described in detail), blood (of animals not humans), and purposeful isolation.

Eventual Prinxiety mah dudes.

Virgil had been a vampire for exactly seven hundred and forty two days, about two years. He spent the first year and a half alone in a camp in the woods hiding, far from civilization. The abandoned camp that still had heat and running water for some reason.

He often wondered who was paying the electric bill those days.

After quickly finding out how useless real food was to keeping him functional shape, he eventually went out to kill wild animals. Rabbits were a meal. Bears were a handful of feasts.

He vowed to never in his life harm a human for their blood. He hadn't wanted to become a vampire, someone's impulsive and stupid actions caused it. He would never put that on someone else.

He was also very unstable the first few months. He was afraid he'd lose control. Virgil could use a lot of colorful descriptors for himself, even to this day. Killer will never be one of them.

Away he hid for one and a half years. He has a weird mix of very vivid memories to huge gaps that stretched on for weeks or a couple months. He remembers sitting on the floor of the cabin putting blood into jars. He killed something big, probably a deer, and the blood was threatening to go bad after a bit. He stuck the jars into the snow so they would keep. He didn't know if that was how you kept blood, but that was the best think he could think of. Freezing things were supposed to keep them from going bad, right?

Virgil stared at the jars wondering if this is how he was going to live out the rest of eternity. He knew nothing about being a vampire.

Childishly, he wondered if maybe it was a myth that he would live forever. The burning in the light thing wasn't entirely true. He could go outside in the sunlight for a bit. It just hurt like a bitch.

Sitting alone some nights, he secretly hoped he was right; he hoped something would grant him death from this imitation of living. He could feel himself going mad from solitude sometimes.

It was days like that where he wondered where the other vampires were. There was at least one out there, roaming, turning innocent people, killing others. Virgil had almost dry after all. If he hadn't got away when he did he would have been sucked dry he was sure.

One night, when the moon was reaching the end of it's journey across the sky, Virgil heard a light humming. He dismissed it as it faded away, ‘a bird’ he thought, but it came back in a matter of minutes. Closer and closer louder and louder until Virgil couldn't deny the existence of a potential human nearing his cabin.

What if the owners had come back. Around three in the morning? Unlikely but possible nonetheless.

Virgil couldn't bear to give this place up and be without a home again. Plus, a human would probably have some questions about the jars of blood in their fridge.

So Virgil grabbed a frying pan.

Agonizingly slowly he opened the big oak door that lead to the ground of the cabin. Instantly a smell hit him that scared him so much he loved the door shut again.

It wasn't a human smell. It didn't make him hungry. And it was strong. Like the smell of clean laundry shoved up to your nose.

Virgil didn't know if he liked it or not.

“Hello?” A soft voice. With so much care it made Virgil want to curl up and take a nap in this stranger's arms.

Which left of his rational mind rang the alarm bells.

Virgil had to come out. They saw him.

Virgil crept out of his house, frying pan at the ready. He tried to say something along the lines of 'Don’t come any closer’ but no sound came out of his mouth. Apparently not using your voice box for a while did that.

Another wonderful thing rushed through his mind at that moment. If this person wanted to take him down, he could not scream, not that anyone would hear him anyway. He was in the middle of nowhere for a reason, but his plans to never be discovered may backfire spectacularly at any instant.

His breath quickened. He was going to die at the hands of this stranger. Probably because he was a vampire. He hadn't even done anything! He tried to protect everyone and look where it lead him. At the mercy of this honey sweet man with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Blue eyes was saying something. “Hey. It's alright, I promise. I'm not gonna hurt you. Do you think you could breathe for me?”

Oh. Virgil wasn't breathing anymore. He was also shaking so hard he couldn't properly hold the pan above his head anymore.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Virgil was standing in front of the only safe haven he'd ever known in front of a person who made it not so safe anymore. He couldn't go inside and hide. He couldn't attack because he was too weak (in every sense of the word). He was stuck gasping for air and shaking in front of this man who was not human. He could not be human.

After a while, the man convinced him to come with him. Looking back, Virgil knew why he went with him so willingly. He charmed him into trusting him.

Blue eyes, who he found out was named Patton, took him through the woods to a clearing about an hour's walk from his cabin. When Patton ushered him into a grey car and they began to drive away from, Virgil somehow knew he would never see his old home ever again.

They drove for a very long time. Virgil distinctly remembers falling asleep and waking up sometime during the day.

It was light out. He had every reason to panic like he did.

After silently freezing out and trying to shift with the shadows of passing trees and stray buildings, he was made aware of the fact that the light did not hurt him like it should have. Patton, noticing his distress and confusion, chirped, “Don’t worry. The windows are ray-proof. The sun won't hurt you in here.”

Which lead to a prompt part two of his freak-out because this stranger knew he was a vampire. Later, he found out that all vampires smelt differently than humans to other vampires. But that car ride was agony.

Patton could have taken him anywhere he pleased. Maybe sent him to be killed for being what he was. Despite Virgil not wanting to be immortal, he didn't want to die quite yet. In human years, he was only twenty three.

Whenever he think back to when he got to what he now considers his home, he will admit he can not remember a thing.

“No wonder,” Logan said one day Virgil brought it up. “Patton had you so under the influence of his charm, I'm surprised you remember anything from that day.”

Patton put in quickly, “He was scared! If I just let him do whatever he would have run away and something bad would have happened! I had no choice.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Logan rolled his eyes. Logan didn't believe in charm. He thought it was a violation to a person's freedom of choice, which was true. But Virgil never got around to resenting Patton for charming him that day. It was too true that he never would have followed him if left to his own devices. He wouldn't have had any of the amazing experiences or people that came with his new home.

And he certainly would have gone insane. It took him three weeks to properly talk to anyone in the household as it was.

There were three people that Virgil met in the span of his first week at that house. Not including Patton, who he met already.

There was Logan, the sort of head of the house. He dealt with the taxes and most responsibilities, and kept everyone in check. He was the most reliable and where Virgil learned most about vampires after he got comfortable. Logan had strict routines that he followed to the minute for many things, but not all. For instance, he always gets up and eats breakfast at 8:00, but he leaves a stretch of forty five minutes or so to make conversation or take some time for himself before he tends to his daily duties. Logan had tried to plan his entire life out to the second, but such strict routines were “a combination of stress and boredom that Lo just couldn't handle!” As Patton so eloquently put it.

And then there was Roman. He showed up the day after Virgil arrived, smelling a lot more like a human than Logan and Patton had. He wasn't a human and he hadn't smelled like blood. He never said what he did on the nights he went out, but everyone knew. At first, Virgil absolutely despised Roman. He was full of himself and was often wreckless, jumping from delusion to delusion like a Disney character with an ensured happy ending. But Roman's quick wit and snappy comebacks engaged Virgil after a while. It was nice to have someone to have non-serious and silly conversations once in awhile. Patton was fun, but talked about real issues too often while Logan wasn't fun. He was an infinitely interesting person to engage with when you want an intellectual conversation, but not the laughing, silly type.

Roman provided an exciting break from the world. When he was with him, Virgil could forget why they were all alone on a back road, miles and miles away from another person. Why they weren't outside taking a nice stroll in the warm daylight. Why they had preserved blood in their fridge and freezer alike.

Just as Virgil was starting to get the hang of this whole 'vampire living with other vampires’ thing, Dee stepped in. Dee was quiet as he was loud; big as he was small. Dee could hide in the smallest of spaces, tower over the tallest of men. Dee scared Virgil. And yet he was drawn to him every time he came around.

So was Roman.

Logan said that Dee affected humans the most with his tricky powers, but he also affected young vampires. Newly turned.

“You and Roman are naturally weaker vampires than, say, Patton or me. We have had much more to develop our abilities and counter powers against vampires like Dee,” Logan stated when Virgil asked about his state. Virgil asked Logan a lot of questions. He has yet to fail to answer with the utmost confidence and sincerity.

Virgil hated the way Dee made him feel. Enticed but cowardly, wanted but hated. Confused.

“Why does he come here? Why do you want him here?”

Logan sighed and put down his pen from his current calculation of some sort. “Dee…” he chose his words carefully. “Dee is not a safe one to be around, as you have experienced. He does not control his powers even though they have grown too large to let run lose like he does. Dee does this because he enjoys the effect he has on people. He basks in the power he oozes. As you can probably imagine, he is a menace in neighborhoods. So, a long time ago, Patton and I struck a deal when he was at his weakest. He can reside here whenever he wishes so long as he stays out of human affairs. It gave Dee a safe place (something he hadn't thought to have until he was in dire need of one) and food if he so desires it. He has avoided humans for twenty years now.”

Virgil didn't like it, but as he found himself doing more and more these days, he put the humans above his comfort.

After living with Patton, Logan, and Roman (and glimpses of Dee) for a year, Virgil began to believe that he might enjoy eternity with these people. Not Dee of course. But the others.

He smiled so much more these days.

It was a strange thing to live with other people. Even as a human, Virgil booked it from his family at seventeen and had been on his own ever since. An apartment here. A park bench there. Virgil found that it wasn't so weird to live with other people now. In fact, he much preferred it to living alone. Go figure.

It was these thoughts, his life story, that ran through his head like a record while he lay on the floor with Roman, both plastered.

“Hey, Roman?”

Roman stared at the ceiling for a moment before he processed Virgil's words. “Yeah?”

“How long have you been a vampire?” Virgil was surprised that he hadn't asked him before.

Roman rubbed his face. “No clue. Not super long, like five years? I don't count that stuff. It's sort of sad.”

“Oh.” Virgil paused, then, “Do you like being a vampire?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Roman looked angry. Or hurt. Whatever he was feeling didn't seem to directed at Virgil however.

Virgil knew a defensive person when he saw one, though. “You don't have to tell me.” Sigh. “But I kinda want to talk about with someone. Can I just say something dumb quick?”

Roman reached around on the floor for a discarded bottle of wine. He half sat up, took a swig straight from the bottom and fell back onto the ground. “Hit me.”

Virgil, for the first time, wanted to talk about being a vampire. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or… No. It was definitely the alcohol. Liquid courage and all that.

“Well, I've been a vampire for seven hundred and forty two days. And I wish I wasn't a vampire a lot. It wasn't my choice or anything, someone just planned to suck my dry and I got away before I died. And I used to really regret not just letting him finish the job.”

Roman shot up and whispered a quick “No!” then held his head, groaning.

“Not anymore, dumbass. Living alone for a year just sucked.”

“Oh.” Roman sunk back down to the floor.

“Anyway, when Patton found me and brought me here I realised that being a vampire wasn't all the suffering I made it out to be. I still wish I was human sometimes, but what the hell. Life’s pretty good for now. I've got less complaints than I did before, you know?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah. I miss quite a bit about being a human.”He paused, obviously looking for a prompt. Sarcastically Virgil replied “What do you miss about being a human, Roman?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” He said grinning, but it slowly slipped into a pressed line. “I miss being around people all the time. I used to be around people for my job, my hobby, my home life. My world revolved around people. Removing myself from that was the hardest thing, I think. Except… no. That was the hardest.”

“What do you mean, 'except’? Except what?” Virgil prodded a little. Roman didn't open up often and Virgil was pretty sure that this alcohol was the thing that was going to help him with that.

“It's so stupid. You'll laugh.”

“I promise nothing. Now tell me!”

Roman made an offended face to go along with his squeaking. “What? No! You have to promise not to laugh or I'm not telling.”

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

“Okay.” Roman exaggeratedly breathed in and out. “I miss seeing myself in mirrors.” Virgil burst into the cutest giggles. “Oh my god. You are really the most egotistical person I've ever met.”

Roman huffed and crossed his arms. “You promised.”

“I lied.” Virgil said. “Really though. You really miss that the most?”

“Look. You know I'm very concerned with my appearance. I used to wear beautiful makeup and do my hair for hours!” “Why don't I find that hard to believe?”

“Shut it. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal to you because you don't really love the way you look, but I liked it. I liked to transform myself into something that people loved to see. And I can't do that anymore.” Roman sighed. “I don't even remember what my face looks like anymore.”

Virgil sat up and gestured for Roman to do the same.

“What are you-?”

“Shh. Just listen to me. Okay.” Virgil touched a freckle on the side of his nose. “You have a freckle right there. A very cute one, at that. And another one right here.” He tapped a point on his cheek. “And you have very clear skin. I know you use moisturizer because it's so soft.” He caressed his jawline. “And you have a beautiful jawline. It could cut silver.” He brought up his other hand and gently pulled Roman's face to gaze into his eyes. “And you have the most interesting eyes. They look hazel now, but I swear yesterday they were blueish-grey. And they have little gold flecks in them.” Virgil leaned in closer. Into those hazel eyes had the key to so much more than a self-absorbed joker. They had a nervous wonder that dared to leap into the unknown every day despite every consequence that could follow them. They were reckless and bold and afraid all at the same time.

Virgil leaned in a little more. And Roman leaned a little too. Then they were touching lips. Like two middle school girls having their first kiss. Awkward and quick. But it was more than either of them ever dreamed it would be.

"I think I'm in love you." "I think I love you too."

What? Something with a fluffy ending? It's true. I'm back with the fluff. I'm not continuing this, but tell me what you think! Y'all like vampires or nah?

Tag list: General-> @kameraishere @punsterterry @jemthebookworm @sympathetic-deceit-trash @moist-astronaut

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #vampire au #patton sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #evil deceit #sry about that #tw deceit

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ren-c-leyn · 5 years

Text

One Day....

Well, @thependragonwritersguild , I looked at your unconventional challenge, and honestly don’t have a clue what prompts you all wanted to fit together; not because none of the fit together, but because so many of them fit together perfectly in my (possibly strange) mind. So, instead of guessing, I combined these prompts ( 4735, 4765, 4766, 4820, 4842) into this no-so-short short story.

This is a heavy angst piece as it is my interpretation of what the life of an immortal would be like. It talks about deaths, about battles, about alcohol, grief, and includes a self-inflicted wound, among other things. Tread lightly.

I’m not sure which was worse. The lies she told before, or the truth that followed. If I had known what secrets had been hidden, I never would have dug for them. I never would have searched for the history of the hero that had been by my side since the beginning of my journey. I didn’t know, though. I couldn’t have dreamed of knowing the weight of the burden on her shoulders. So, I dug, and I confronted her at the gates of the abandoned fortress she called home.

The melancholy etched in the dark brown curves and lines of her face did nothing the stem the words. One after another, I spat out all of the lies I had caught her in. No one in Snow Well had heard her name, she didn’t buy her unicorn mount from the exotic animal trader, we didn’t get the quest to save the king’s daughter, which meant he saw her of his own volition that stormy night; and no one at the guild would answer my questions as to who she really was or from whence she came.

At the end of my ranting and raving, my evidences and questions, a soft sigh slipped from her lips. She tossed her dark curls back and forth before waving me forward, deeper into the depths of her home. When I didn’t move, she turned her back on me and delved further in herself. I listened to her light footsteps echo on the dull, grey cobblestones for a moment before chasing after. I couldn’t let her slip away before she answered for all of the lies she had told me, her partner, her friend....

Through the elaborate maze of rooms and halls she led me until we stood inside a room I didn’t recognize. There were books everywhere, each with a sketch of a person on the cover. Elves, dwarves, humans, halflings, nympths, faries, centaurs, even a dragon. All of the faces were so detailed and realistic, I felt as though they were actually watching me pass them by.

She slumped down into one of the plush chairs in front of a cold, silent hearth, waving me into the other one. I took my seat and stared right into those dark eyes. It was still hard to look into them for too long. Her gaze was just as piercing as it was when she saved me from certain death years before.

“Do you know where we are right now, Jack?” “In your fortress?” “In my memories,” she replied eyes sweeping over the books. “Those were all people I knew, people I fought with, people I fought for, people I loved and treasured. All of them died long before you were born....”

I stared at her, processing the madness she was speaking. Before I was born? She looked younger than I was... just as young as she had been that day. I shook my head. A crafty move, trying to change the subject and confuse me, but I would not be distracted so easily.

“Who are you, Summer? Who are you really?”

“I don’t know. Very few people remember my name. And I’m not one of them. I never thought to write down my own name, to commit my history to pages. Maybe I knew that I didn’t want to remember before I was even old enough to realize that immortality was a curse, not a blessing.”

I snorted at the idea, sure she was lying through her teeth.

“Immortality is impossible, a mere fable.”

She answered by drawing her blade. I did not so much as have time to blink before her blade was in her heart. A scream had escaped my throat as I rushed over to her. Her hand stopped me, pushing me back toward my chair. I was silenced by my own horror as she twisted the blade around in a circle, forcing the blood up her throat and out her lips, before she ripped it free of her body. Dark crimson seeped through her pale tunic, creating and ever growing red circle.

For a long time, the only things that broke the silence was the echoes of my erratic breathing, the dripping sword, and her own slow breaths. I kept expecting her eyes to glaze over, her body to slump, her breathing to stop, but it never happened. Instead, she wiped her blade clean and sheathed it before dabbing at the hole in her chest with the same cloth. Less than five minutes after the wound had been inflicted, it was gone. Only the blood stains remained as proof she had ever been wounded.

“Immortality should be impossible, Jack, but it isn’t. Now, if you will allow me, I will tell you the truth the best my cloudy memory can recall.”

I only nodded, unable to speak.

“I was born mortal, like anyone else, in Snow Well. It wasn’t a town back then, just a farm. I don’t remember much about it, really. I can’t even call my parent’s faces to mind. I do recall being bored of it, though. I didn’t want to tend animals, I wanted to be an adventurer. So, I left home and did my best. I would have died if some real adventurers didn’t save me, though. They were the founders of the guild, and the ones that trained me. Only, my sparing partner and I didn’t see eye to eye. We’d goad and torment each other every chance we got, until we were sent out on quests together. The thrill and the danger eventually got us to bond.

One day, though, he was hurt so I set out to find herbs for him. I stumbled into an old, sacred place. I recall there being a tree with white leaves and black flowers, but nothing else really sticks out in my mind. The herbs I needed were growing there, so I picked them. The guardian of the place appeared and scolded me. I don’t know why I did it. I regretted it before, during, and after it all happened, but laughed and blew him off. Told him he was full of hot air and went to leave, but not before the roots of the tree grabbed me.

‘Perhaps time will tech you to respect my sorrows and the burden I carry. Return in five hundred years with a plant to replace the one you have stolen from this sanctuary, and then I will break your curse. Until then, you will walk this world alone.’”

She sighed, dabbing some of the congealing blood off of her tunic. A bitter smile crossed her face.

“I can’t quite remember what happened after that, but I remember my partner being ecstatic for me. Said I’d never have to be scared again. I thought he was right at the time. Death could no longer threaten me, no matter what kind of quest I was on. That became the problem, though. I had married my partner and watched him age. I had married my partner and watched him age. When we had the twins, the horror of my curse finally set in. They wouldn’t live five hundred years, my husband wouldn’t live five hundred years.

One by one, the other guild members died, until there were only four of us from the original founders left, and two of them were elves. Then, the horrid day came when old age claimed my lover. I put him in the ground, an old man, while I still looked as young as I had been when we were wed. My children had families of their own, and the days showed on their faces. Gods, when I buried my children I didn’t know where to turn. Then my grandchildren, and then their children. It never stopped. One generation was born, and another stepped into their graves.”

There was a pause before she took a deep breath, nodding to herself as she lowered the cloth onto her lap.

“Five-hundred years of suffering passed by even slower than it should have. I dug up an herb plant from my garden and searched for the guardian, hoping to put an end to my suffering. It took me another fifty long years to find him again, and then I was informed that because I came too late, I would have to wait another ten-thousand years.”

She gripped the little rag in her hands so tight I thought it was going to tear. She wrung it back and forth as she continued talking.

“Ten-thousand more because I had missed the day that stars aligned and he would have been strong enough to undo what had been done.... I laughed and wept, throwing the plant at his feet and stumbled back to my cottage. I turned to the bottle to numb the pain. It did nothing to ease the suffering, though. One of the elves came after a while, wearing his own age on his face. I don’t remember exactly what he said to me, but he made me realize that I could still do something for this world. I could make this world so much brighter. And so much darker. I decided to make it brighter for the heirs of my bloodline, to give my descendants’ children a good place to live.”

“You do a good job of that, Summer.”

“Do I? I haven’t really been sure of that for a long time. So many dangers left for them to face. No matter how many bandits and monsters I cut down, there’s always more... always so many more. I’ve been at this so long, I’m not even sure I’m human anymore. I feel like a ball of pain and an old war machine.”

“Pain is the most human thing there is.”

“Is that so? Well then,” she smiled, “I guess I’m the most human of anyone in the entire world.”

With that, she drug herself out of the chair and showed me all of the books she had written about all of the people she had known. She introduced me to her family, to her comrades, to the idiots she had saved before me, and even showed me the one she was working on for me when I died. I wished I hadn’t looked, but I did. The words inside tore me apart. It was a complex mix of our history, my personality, every little quirk and habit she had noticed, and things I was prone to blurt out on a whim. It talked about my skills, my favorite things, even the silly little songs I came up with at random. So much beauty and sorrow was already in those pages, and I wasn’t even dead yet....

I left that night with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart. I wished I could tell her it would be okay, that I wasn’t going to leave her, but the wall of books spoke the truth. I would die one day, and in a few hundred years, she’d be the only person left to remember the things I did and the person that I was. One day, she’d probably show my story to some other unlucky soul that realized there was more to her that what met the eye. One day....

#My writing #fiction #fantasy #angst #short story #immortal #a sad story #a story by Ren

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lolcat76 · 6 years

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Perdu

your-otp-prompts

Your OTP is dead and both of them live together happily in the afterlife…. until they find out Person A is due to be reincarnated. Person B refuses to spend the rest of existence without them and asks to be reincarnated too. They then spend their new mortal lives trying to find each other again.

@okaynextcrisis just a THOUGHT in case either of you are BORED and/or NOT ENTIRELY FILLED WITH ANGSTY FEELS“I think you were right,” Bill said as he sat on the side of the bed next to her. “The Gods – or God – they exist.”

Laura sighed and stretched, one long leg creeping out from the covers to tease his thigh with her toes. He always woke before she did, long before they’d found themselves in this cabin, where the days were always sunny and the nights were just cool enough that she needed to curl into him to stay warm. Back when she’d fall asleep without him, and wake up with him breathing ambrosia, or worse, Joe’s rot-gut on her neck. Even in the throes of his worst hangover, he was still awake before she was, breathing a night of regrets into her skin as he tried to keep the chill of mortality from creeping any further into her bones.

Then, he woke her with reports and updates. Now, he woke her with random thoughts. Was your hair always this red, or is it just the sun here? Are there fish in that lake? Is it against the rules to find out? There’s a constellation of freckles that looks just like Virgon on your chest. When I was a kid, we had a dog that kicked in its sleep, but damn, woman, nothing like you.

Non-sequiturs and random thoughts, but never theological debates, and she was too warm, too comfortable and too naked to engage in any sort of deep conversation. “Hmmm...I would have thought the cabin and the pantry that’s always stocked with food was enough to tip you off on that score.”

“I had a pretty good idea,” he agreed.

She liked his ideas, especially here, especially now, where there was no concern of infection or exhaustion or dropping dead while he rambled about gardening. She had some damn good ideas as well. Laura wiggled a little closer to him, her arms escaping the comforter to wrap around his waist. “If you want further proof, come back to bed, and I’ll shout them, or him, or whomever, down again just for you.”

He didn’t pull away – he never pulled away from her, not once, not since that first handshake after the end of the worlds – but he didn’t come any closer. This was apparently a serious conversation. Laura tucked the duvet under her shoulders. “Bill? What brought this on?”

“We had some guests this morning.”

Guests? They didn’t have guests. That was the trade-off – sacrifice for the good of humanity, die of cancer, and walk around naked if she so chose in her little cabin in the afterlife. She’d held up her end of the bargain, so why the frak were they suddenly worrying about guests?

Gods, if it was Ellen Tigh, she’d give up her immortal soul here and now.

“Maybe guests is the wrong word,” Bill sighed. “Landlords? And I guess our rent is due?”

“Bill, you know you’re awful at metaphors. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He shrugged, the grin her teasing brought to his lips not quite reaching his eyes. “All this has happened before, and all this is happening again.”

He was even worse at quoting Scripture than he was at metaphors. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, I’ve been told I’m going back to Earth.”

***

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. She was not spending the rest of eternity alone in a cabin. She was not giving up Bill, not just when she’d gotten used to his snoring and was finally able to live with him without wanting to smack him every time he asked her why she didn’t just wash her dish rather than leaving it in the sink.

No. She might not have been the most devout follower of the Gods, but she was devout enough. And sure, she thought Baltar’s sermons were 97% bullshit, but she’d believed in the other 3%, so why the hell were the nebulous Almighties showing up now and ruining her happily ever?

No. She wasn’t losing Bill again. Not now, not ever.

Laura kicked off the covers and dug through the rumpled bedclothes at her feet to find the t-shirt she’d tossed aside last night. No, she muttered as she tugged the shirt over her head, no, not this time. She pushed him out of the way and strode into the living room of their cabin, ready to do battle with…with what, exactly?

They didn’t have a phone, and even if they did the cabin didn’t have a phone book. She couldn’t just look up Gods Comma The in the Yellow Pages, punch in a phone number and insist that whatever holy beings were in charge of their interior design report for the full Roslin interrogation. She didn’t even have a damn airlock here.

She might have been the more faithful, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t shove a deity or two out an airlock if it meant keeping Bill with her.

But deities were nowhere to be found, and she was left standing in one of Bill’s old t-shirts and bare legs, trying to choke back tears at the realization that if this was going to happen, there was nothing – nothing – she could do to stop it.

“Laura?’ Bill asked. So hesitant. He hadn’t been timid around her since she was dying of cancer. He wrapped his arm around her waist, so gentle that she could almost feel him slipping away.

There was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing, except this. She twined her fingers with his, squeezing so tightly that she was almost certain she’d broken a bone. Hers or his, she couldn’t tell, and didn’t particularly care.

“You’re not leaving me again. I don’t care what they said, I’m holding on to you and I’m never letting go. If they want you, they have to take both of us.”

***

It was her little ritual to mark the day her life fell apart with a strong drink in a shitty bar. Counterintuitive, but she had a sick appreciation for life’s little ironies. A shitty bar was where Rick told her he wasn’t going to leave his wife, and a strong drink was what led her to wrap her car around a telephone pole.

If she’d been as good a drunk then as she was now, she could have made it home, her car, her criminal record, and her unborn child intact. But, shit happened, and she was perfectly happy to revisit her past mistakes every year on this day. Maybe this time would be the time she’d finally get drunk enough to really wreck her car and never wake up. Practice makes perfect.

“All this has happened before,” she muttered, before throwing back another shot of tequila.

“All this will happen again.”

Laura looked up, her vision more than a little blurry. Most of the regulars at Joe’s knew to steer clear of her, if not by her attitude, then by the sharp tongue of the bartender who usually lectured her about being self-destructive, then dumped her in a cab. Rich coming from a man who was well past retirement age, but still pouring shots and cleaning up vomit. All this will happen again, she’d heard Jack say every Friday and Saturday night, when she’d been perched on her barstool. She’d never heard someone say it so…hopefully. As if all of this happening again was a good thing.

Maybe for him it was. This guy was new, and by the looks of his white starched uniform, not someone she wanted to know. Damn San Diego anyway. She should have moved back to New York or headed north to Los Angeles. Any city where she could hide among the freaks and dregs, instead of fighting for a spot at the bar with sailors and college students.

He looked a little long in the tooth to be a sailor, white uniform notwithstanding. He looked too old to be in a bar like this, and if she hadn’t just knocked back her fifth shot of tequila – Your last shot, young lady – she might have thought she was too old to be there as well.

“What do you know about what’s going to happen again?” She wobbled on her barstool, and she would have fallen off if he hadn’t grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans and jerked her upright. She yanked his hands from her jeans and slapped them on the bar. “I didn’t ask for a hero.”

“I didn’t volunteer.” He smiled at her. Warm, his smile. Warm, his voice, too low and rough to be safe. Warmer still, his hands curling into hers.

They fit, his callused fingers twined against her own. Laura hadn’t held hands with a man since the accident that had broken 17 bones in her body, including four in her hand, but damn if his grip didn’t fit perfectly in hers.

Jagged edges looking for a match. If she were less drunk, she’d be pleased. If she were more drunk, she’d fuck him on the spot. She was just drunk enough to know that whatever this was, it was a bad idea. “I’m going home.” She slapped a couple of bills on the bar and pushed herself off the stool.

“That’s only two bucks,” Jack yelled after her as she weaved past Chads and Brads and Tyffinies and sailors, but Jack knew she’d be back. She’d make it right with him tomorrow, or the next day. Tonight, she needed to get the hell out of this bar.

She swayed on the street, punching in her password for Lyft again and again before giving up and muttering fuck it, I’ll walk. Laura made it halfway down the block before the night caught up with her, and she ducked into a storefront to throw up a night’s worth of booze and fish tacos.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

“As far as birthdays go, I’m guessing you’ve had better.”

Yes, just what she needed, the creep in the Navy uniform following her home. “If you touch me, I’ll fucking rip out our balls and feed them to the rats.”

He shrugged. “In San Francisco, I’d be worried, but this is San Diego. There are no rats.”

Not with four legs, anyway. “Whatever you think is going to happen, I can assure you it won’t.”

He brushed her hair back, then offered her a bottle of water. She swished it in her mouth, then spat the remnants of $60 worth of dinner and drowned sorrows into the gutter.

“Thanks,” she said, and held out the bottle.

He grimaced “Keep it.”

“Well, I’m going home now.” She stumbled down the street and would have taken a header in the middle of Friday night traffic if he hadn’t caught her again.

“Do you mind?”

“Matter of fact, I do. You might be intent on killing yourself, but I don’t want to see it.” His hands were still on her waist, still holding her more or less upright.

“I’m not trying to kill myself,” she said, unsure whether she was trying to convince him, or herself.

“I’m glad,” he said, “because I’ve seen you die once, Laura Roslin, and I don’t want to see it again.”

Who the fuck is Laura Roslin, she wanted to ask, and she would have if those five shots of tequila hadn’t chosen that moment to knock her ass right out.

***

The first thing she thought when she woke was that she desperately needed to brush her teeth. The second thing was that she probably owed Jack an apology, and definitely a tip. The third thing was who the hell was in bed with her?

She was still dressed, more or less. Shirt, underwear, socks, but her jeans were gone. Cracking her eyes to survey her surroundings, she was relieved to see that she was in her own bedroom, and her jeans were folded nightly on her desk.

Small mercies, but it didn’t explain how she’d gotten into her own bed, or who was breathing on her neck.

She’d had awkward mornings after before; she could survive this one. Wake him up, send him home, pretend that nothing happened for another 364 days.

Only problem was, he was already awake.

He was always awake before her, waiting for her to open her eyes and smile at him before he got out of the rack and started his day. “I love waking up to you,” he said, every morning.

Dammit, Jack, she’d settle up her tab but she wasn’t giving him a tip if whatever he’d given her last night led to hallucinations like this.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Nothing better than bringing up bodily functions to chase a man from her bed.

“Okay. Go.” He rolled onto his side and burrowed his face into his pillow, breathing into her 800-thredcount pillowcases just as easily as he’d breathed into her neck.

Is this all there is, Bill?

“You don’t have to be here when I get back,” she said.

Is this all there is?

“You said you wouldn’t let go.”

“No, I didn’t.” Yes, I did. Didn’t I? She didn’t remember saying it, but it felt real.

“Go to the bathroom. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Hair a little too processed, crow’s feet a little too prominent. She was too old for this, for waking up to a stranger in her bed. Even her robe, soft cotton instead of satin, was an old lady’s robe.

Is this all there is? A late night and too much to drink?

It was all that she had to offer. She tugged the belt of her robe a little too tight around her waist and ventured out of her bathroom, only to find her bed empty. Thank god, she sighed, breathing in a moment’s relief.

Until she heard pots and pans clanging in her kitchen. Why wouldn’t he just leave? She didn’t need to have breakfast with a stranger.

Saul will be here right after Jaffee brings breakfast, he said.

“Are you telling me you don’t want me to be here when breakfast is served?”

He pulled her closer, whispering the word no over and over again into her skin, brushing his lips against the ribs that had become too prominent in the last few weeks. “I want you to eat. If I could make you breakfast in bed, I would.”

Laura shook her head, trying to clear it from the fog of too much tequila and too much…whatever this was. She didn’t know any Saul. She didn’t even know this man’s name, or why he was here.

He was cooking her breakfast. Nobody had cooked her breakfast since college. He was making a mess of her kitchen, dipping low-calorie, high-fiber bread into an egg wash. He looked up and caught her eye, grinning at her as he dropped two slices of bread into a frying pan. “The French call it pain perdu, lost bread.” He gently laid a slice into her skillet. “Lost. How sad is that?””

“Lost bread.” Laura hummed. “It has a certain romance to it. Lost in what, I wonder?

“Do you really want to know?”

“No,” she admitted. She pulled plates out of her cabinets and folded napkins, waiting for breakfast to be ready. “I think I prefer things to be found, not lost.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he muttered as he slid the French toast on her plate.

For the first time in she didn’t know how long, she thought God just might be listening.

#lolcat fic #spaceparents fic #Bill Adama #Laura Roslin #spaceparents #bsg #battlestar galactica

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