feeling scared right now, but I’m safe, and home, and they got the guy. I haven’t hear anything about any friends being hurt yet, and I will continue to take no news as good news
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swampiee-deactivated20190524
MARVEL’S BLINK 05 ! FOR @littlemissclarice
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@toadlingscentral @littlemissclarice Your muses should discuss their mutual ‘adoration’ of Fabian 8)
if by “adoration” you mean hatred, and by “discuss” you mean “plot murder and the twelve ways that Clarice knows how to completely hide a body” than yes, yes they absolutely should
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Myth of a Child
They were poking at her through the cage. Laughing a little when she tries to move away from the things they sticked in the cage to touch her. She would move to one side only to be forced to the other. She sometimes would growl and hiss at them, showing her mouthful of fangs but it did nothing. So she returns to curling up and doing her best to ignore the pokes and sounds. She misses the forest ground under her instead of the metal base of the cage. Curled up under a tree would be better than in this cage. Why do these people chase her? They have been chasing her for so long. Now they have her. What are they going to do with her? Or will she always be in this cage? Something happens and the pokes stop. But the sounds increase. They grow so loud that she has to cover her pointed ears. Her eyes are closed tightly as there are more sounds that grew louder. This frightens her so she does not open her eyes, not even for a moment. Only when the sounds seem to finally stop does the small girl uncover her ears. She begins to sit up. But then she hears the order. The little girl had been out here for so long that she forgot much of her time before including some speech but she remembers the ones she heard most often still. ‘Do not’ were two words she heard plenty often. She stays very still and keeps her eyes close. She knows better not to go against those words. Never go against those words.
This was no place for a child, for a little girl, for a girl who looked as small as she is, so young and vulernable. Clark hates how she curls up, goes still, and he knows that she’s afraid of him. He doesn’t want that. But he can not let her see the bodies that he has left on the pavement. There is too much blood, and he will get her away from it before he addresses the reason why she doesn’t have to be afraid of him. He reaches into the cage, and his hands are gentle as they wrap around her. He lifts her out of the filth, gently, slowly, and into his arms properly. He casts a quick glance around, just to see if there’s anything else that might be her’s, but everything in the truck and cage seems far more likely to belong to the filthy humans who had been hurting her. At the very least, there’s nothing Clark would want a child to own. “It’s okay,” he tells her, craddling her against his chest as he summons his powers and takes them away from the carnage. “You’re safe now.” He takes them through a portal, and to a small cabin that he knows has been empty for years, and he’s been using for a couple of months whenever he needs to get away from things. Running his hands through her hair, he sits down on the couch. “You can look now, little one. You’re safe.” He hopes that she knows the words enough, knows that she can believe him, or will at least try. Because he can see that she is different, that she has features so different from humans, just like he is. If she would but look at him, Clark guesses she might know something about why she can trust him.
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Myth of a Child
Open starter- anyone can respond- lil Feral Megan au
They all read the stories. Every news article they could find. They have over a dozen of pictures printed up of the creature. They have saved video files of footage of the creature. They all dreamed of it. They all waited for the day to see it themselves. Which they did. They all can see it now. It is in the back of their truck, in a small cage. They had a few tarps covering it but the one end is left open. A look shows a small green figure with some filthy brown outfit on it. It is shaking as it keeps itself curled up into a tiny ball.
They don’t care about that though. What they care about was that now people will take them seriously. They weren’t some kids messing around and chasing after fairy tale monsters. No, people will see and take them seriously from now on. So when they stop at the gas station, they encouraged everyone to come and see their monster. The Creature of North Redwood Forest.
He was a son of Victor Creed, blood of En Sabah Nur, guardian of thePanoptichron, and he was a deadly being. And when he heard about some humans who thought they were brave enough, foolish enough, to capture a creature of the woods, to post photos online of the small being trapped in a cage, and declare themselves heroes, his blood boiled. He knew that what they called a creature was not that at all. No, this was a girl, a little, scared, child, being kept in a cage like some amusement for the humans that they could point and laugh at without worry. A mutant, caged, sold as a roadside attraction. Clark teleports into the space behind the gas station, and even from there, he can here the laughter and jeers coming from the trucks. He rolls his shoulders, summons his powers, and his hands glow with a bright pink energy. As he strides around the side of the building, the energy soldifies into two sharp long knife like objects. The crowd scrambling for cover, but the anger in his blood gives him power, and he encircles them all with walls of portals, that simply send them back here. His eyes eyes seem almost red, as he comes at them. Cutting at those who try to fight back, burying his knives in the chests of those who would raise a grun to him. They plead for mercy, and he considers it, for a flicker of a second, and then he sees the eyes of the girl in the cage, and he kills them all the same. The black pavement of the parking lot is covered in blood by the time he finishes. He strides up to the flatbed truck where they have moved the cage to better display it, and simply wraps his hands around the metal bars, and they shatter under pink light. “Do not look, little one.”
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littlemissclarice replied to your post: Sexual SUnday story suggestion: Malcolm gets a…
this is how I DIE
Malcolm: Well, this is working out great with the women, now how do I get men to agree to this too?
Malcolm: ….ohhhhhh!!!
Clarice: wait the women WANT to be here? Clarce:....... Clarice: are you SURE you’re Fabian’s son?
(Hippie Namor) Never trust the man, man. *wears groovy shades*
“Just go with the flow, dude.”
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Namor in Exiles #3 Preview
like for a violent starter
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spent all day at work dissociating, so hit me up with so angst and pain plots
Give me plot plots?
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Mortimer was not having a good time. Far from it. The MRD have been acting strange lately. More raids. More harsher treatment. Mortimer is actually terrified. After the first hit he had gone quiet and curled up in the corner of his cell. It did nothing for him at night but at least during the day they didn’t bother him, letting him recover. Then today he and the others are moved into a large holding cell. They are going to be transported. Mortimer has no idea where and he has no intention to ask. Mortimer only knows that with the way the guards are talking, he is not going to like it. Just as the beams go down, something happens. Mortimer draws back with the crowd. Then the crowd begins to move away from him. Mortimer is left standing alone, looking every which way, so afraid that he can’t move. Then there is a a girl before him. Pink with darker markings on her face. A fellow mutant. Her hand is held out to him. Without really thinking about it, Mortimer places his own in hers as she tells him she is hear to rescue him. Who is she? Mortimer has no idea. But if she can really get him out of here, then he’ll go. “O-okay,” he mumbles.
Clarice smile, gentle and soft, and she remembers the time when Mister Creed had come for her, when she’d been locked away in a holding cell much like this, and she’d been so scared. Scared enough that she hadn’t moved for freedom, as much as this man hadn’t either. He seems similar to versions of Toad that she’s encountered in other universes, but far more nervous than she’s familar with. She wraps her fingers around his hand, squeezing gently. Just as the back up guards come running around the corner to them, finally having been alerted to the problem with the prisoners, Clarice stretches out her hand. She holds the image of her desired place, as she pools the energy into a pink field in front of them. She steps into it and tugs Mortimer to follow her. They step out onto soft sand, into hot sun and a bright blue sky. Even as the portal collapses behind them, Clarice doesn’t let go of Mortimer’s fingers. She sighs, happy with a rescue mission gone well, pleased with herself for her action. “Much better place to spend some time, don’t you think?” Her fingers are tangled with his, and she doesn’t think of a reason to stop, not unless he makes that move. She looks at him, trying to place the differences in his face with the other persons she had encountered of his like, and wonders what happened in this universe to make him such of a mumbler (if he is indeed this universe’s version of Toad). “My name’s Clarice.”
“Yes and I had hoped those signs would be a deterrent so that I may swim in peace. Unfortunately you can read but chose to ignore the warnings.”
He slicks back midnight black hair as he ignores the mutant. It wouldn’t be his fault if she did die, and the weather was not that cold, another strong sea wind hit his bare skin and he knew that the girl was probably freezing. He rolled his eyes, and briefly considered returning to the water. The waves were bigger now that the storm that had threatened the whole day was finally coming in.
Namor heaved a sigh before picking up Clarice from the collar of her shirt much like a cat would a kitten and setting her upright. Looking her over Namor was wondering if she would contract hypothermia, he could withstand the cold water and cold air of the oncoming night but she would probably die.
A shame.
Surfacers even mutants were so fragile.
Still she had thought she was being noble by saving him, though he didn’t need rescue, and so it may have pushed him into asking, “If you wish for a hot drink there is a sea side tavern just down the shore. I myself want something a bit stronger. Do you wish to accompany me?”
He wouldn’t mind at all if she refused, he was used to drinking alone.
“Hey!” She jerks against his hold pulling her up, because urgh, so undignified, and really, she got that he was a royal and everything, but the only man who was allowed to manhandle her like that was Creed. She jerks away when she’s got her feet under her, glaring at him even as she shivers. The cold had seem inconsquential when she was worried about someone drowning, but now the adreniline was wearing off, and she could feel the ache as the storm rolled in off the office. She wraps her arms around herself, glaring at him in annoyance for his presumption in her ablity to swim. She’d barely been in the water for ten seconds, but it had been enough to get her soaked, and she would have been even more annoyed at him if she hadn’t quickly teleported them out of the water, and been forced to swim back to shore through that cold water. “That- That would probably be a good idea.”
X l Stormy Seas l @littlemissclarice
Namor had just been going for a swim. A mere splash through the waves near the beach, and all he wished for was some privacy and quiet to unwind. Mutant tensions on the surface had been monitored by his people but Namor had long since left the X-Men to their own devices preferring to keep his business within Atlantis.
Then he felt arms around him and his body being jerked through a portal. His sight so accustomed to darker depths was momentarily blinded by a bright pink light. Landing roughly on rocks he is dazed by the quickness of it all then the feeling of two smaller hands on his chest and cursing helps him focus.
“If you wished to touch my chest then merely ask next time.”
His voice is irritated from having his swim interrupted and he pushes her off of him to stand towering above her. She is drenched in water but he recognizes her from his time spent in the X-Men.
“By Neptune’s beard why would you drag me from the sea?”
She’d hadn’t even paused to consider who she was pulling from the water, she’d just seen the humanoid figure in the dark depths and leapt into action. Not waiting to think, because she’d seen all the signs posted along the beach, and she didn’t think that the dude hanging out in the water without seeming to come up for air had seen those signs either. It takes her a moment. Her hair is dripping into her eyes, she’s got to push it back, clear her eyes against the sun that back lights him. It’s not easy to make out his voice, but it’s the anger of his voice that really does it. “Namor?” The incredugility comes out in her voice, the sharp pitch of how she spits out the name. She stares at him, as she brushes the dribbles of water off of her face. Of course it’s him, it would have to be him after all. No one else would- “I didn’t even know it was you! All I see is some dude floating underwater when there’s a million signs about dangerous not swimming here cause of the undertow!”
spent all day at work dissociating, so hit me up with so angst and pain plots
“Stormy Seas”
meme - @theimperiusrex Clarice picks up a rock from the beach, and throws it out on to the waves. It had been a quiet day - the rally in the city early that had brought her here had gone remarkably well, as mutant rights moments did, with only a couple of bricks being thrown. She could smile over that, but it did mean that she was, rather bluntly, bored. It had to be a sign of how much running and fighting she’d done with the Exiles that she found a day without any attacks boring. She bent down to pick up another rock, and then paused. There was something in the water. A shape- Clarice swore. nbsp; She doesn’t even hesitate. She throws her hand out, forming a portal, leaping through it into the water next to the humanoid figure. Fighting the heavy waves, she wraps her arms around them, and summons all of the strength she has to hold onto him as she brings up a portal to take them back to the beach. They drop out of the water through the pink light, and onto the hard rocks. “Fuck! Come on buddy, you better be alive, and worth this.” She grabs at his chest, feeling for breath, for proof that he’s alive.
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My muse is feeling touch-starved.
Send one of the following touches for my muse’s reaction. Bonus points for a description/context of some kind to make it easier for your partner to respond!
❤ - gentle or loving touch (romantic or platonic!), such as face caressing, holding your muse, rubbing their back, petting their hair, hugging them tightly, etc
ღ - kisses of any kind (romantic or platonic) such as cheek kisses, hair kisses, mouth kisses, kiss to the hand/fingertips or eyelids, etc. feel free to specify a body part!
☕ - reassuring touch, such as holding their hand, gripping their shoulder, guiding them by the arm or by a hand on the small of their back, etc
❥ - rough, violent, or dominant touch, such as gripping the back of their neck, holding them down, shoving them into a wall, digging their nails into them, grabbing their jaw, etc
❣ - add this to any of the above to make it sexual.
¿ - write your own touches!
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