Call and Response

Welp. Despite not having watched a Marvel movie in years, have a random Marvel fanfic that just kind of spilled out of me for no reason over the last couple of days, lol.

It's also a very different vibe from my usual writing for some reason. I dunno, if I'm being honest I feel a bit weird about it, like it's way more purple than I usually write.

Anyway, it was inspired (in part) by a little little section of the poem "Hydrophobia" by Sam Sax.

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Alexander Pierce sat staring at the laptop sitting on his desk. Next to him, an analyst stood with a clipboard, watching nervously at the way his boss's jaw clenched over and over again in frustration. On the screen, a video feed showed a cell holding the Winter Soldier and yet another team of medics and agents who had been sent in to subdue him, bleeding out on the floor.

Lucerna the Bright

Oculis Vedentis, Lady Claraspex, the Mirror-Eyed

Light LEAKS through the CRACKS. THE HIGHER I RISE THE MORE I SEE.

T̶̜̰͊̋͗͝ḧ̷͙̘̪̹̖̼͙͔̺̪̐̀͋̅͆͑́̍̊̄̋̈́ȩ̷͚̙̱̮͕̺̱̯̬͎͉̣͋̑̽͒̏͒̂̏̊̏͘͝ ̸̛̥̼͙͋͂̇̎̍͗͒͌̈́̽͊̕Ģ̴̛͎͓̭̭̩̟͉͎̜͚̓̐͒́͒͆̀̓͘͘͜l̴͖͈͈̻̥̳̬̻̭̊͒̀̅͑͜ó̷̢̯͚̲͖̩͑̾͋̌̀̆̀̌̈́̀͗͠͝r̷̢̥̻͚͙̰̟͉̺̙͖̒̈́̑̄͛͐͋̔̿̽̚̕͝y̸̧͓̳͍̭͖͙͍̞̟͕̥͖͈̙͛̊̿̆͂͆ ̷̗̠͖̜͈̄̈̋̔̋̈́͗̓̕p̷̧̢͙̯̠̞̟͋͆̅͒͂͐͒̔̕͜ȍ̶̩͂͗́́̄ǘ̸͚̻͐̋́̆͛̊̇͝͝r̵̼̪̅͂͌̽͛̀͜ŝ̷̖͈͙͓̜̟͈͔̳̯̩̣̔̈̌̈̚ͅ ̶̧̧̧̙̩͖̰̜̦̲̙̲̘̈̈́̽̑͒̌̉͑̀͐̄͘̕͝͝f̶̨͈̼̫͒̇̔ȏ̵̪̰́̏́̕͝r̷̡̧̛̼̼̞̞͇̼̗̮͍̊̈́͑̌͐͗̓̊̑̓̔ͅţ̴̘̯̩͚̭̘̣̥̄̓͒́͛͆̈͐͂̚͠͝h̶̟̠̟͕̮̟͙͖͈̪̰̠̔͐̔̓͗̋ͅ ̴̧̛̭̙̜̭͖͖̯̫͙̜̉͑̐̏̓̉̚̕͝t̵̡̧̧̛͈̦̝̯̞̯̻̳̓̅̋̊̍͝ḣ̷̡͍̖̗̬̝̤̞̐͗͛͋r̴̡̬̘͕̘͍̭̥̪̙̬̲͔̔͌͋̈́͒̓̀͘͜͠ͅơ̸̤̠̐̇͛̐̔̓̋̒̔̄͊̇̚͠u̵̯̫̐g̷̗͍̦͚̀̽͝h̴̞̳̮̦͚̺̙̱̝̑̎̒̆̂̀̊̀̽͜ͅͅ ̷̼͚͉̦̫̉̿̓̒͆͒̕t̵̤̙̪̜̥̣̠̽̏͐͗̀̈́̇̔͋̉̐̏̊͝͝ḥ̸̖͈̯͓̖̭͈̥̮͍̰̻̙̊̋́̈́̑̉̄̔̊̈́͊̔͘͠͠ȅ̸̛̛͚̄́̀͊̑̿̕͠͠ ̶͕̤͉̤̃͑̂̈͋͌̀͑̈͑͜͠ḑ̸̢̱̙̟͓̮͇̦̯̠̜̌̓͑o̵̡̦̼̾̾́̐̀̕o̷̧̭̲̱̦͔̠̗̣̞̼̤͖̞͑͋͋̀̏͊̕̕͠͠ȑ̵̭̗͙̬̝̗̺͙̓̋̂͑̿̍͗͝ŝ̶̡̼̯͉ ̴͕̤̬͔͉̫̒͑̃̑̀͊͜͝î̴̛̮̩̼͈̤̭̙͙̙̙̙̲̝̜́̊̌̈́̔͝n̵̤̮̖̣̂̑̐͘ ̷̡̣̯̬̦̺̲͕͈̺͉̩͎͚̪̀̈́̿̈́͛̀̇̈́̀̌̈́m̴̨̡͈̬̝̼̞̖̘͇͇͓̥̮͂̇̈̃͜y̶̟͉̻̠͔̪̪̲͈͎͈͍͓̺̝̅͂̒̔͠ ̸̭͎̝̙̙̗͈͚̦̟͇́͒͒̇̌͜ͅͅe̶̗̰̤͔̓͌̂̉̀y̸̡̾͛̒́͛͒̚ḛ̸̡̧̢̧͎͚̟͇̳̟̙͙̉̾s̴̨̗͈̦̰̮̼̱͉̰̥̳͍̍̓̔̀̏̒͛̽̈̎̈́̽́͘͜

Here, this is my Secret Histories character.

This post brought to you by the extremely cool Magnus Archives picrew by wxrringtxn: https://picrew.me/en/secret_image_maker/TUpt5gokcYbd7w1d

Willing Sacrifice - Mason x Evelynn

Her heartbeat. It was quiet, it was uneven, it was stuttering, but it was there. The sound of it was the last thread holding Mason's sanity in place.

He was standing in front of the closed door of the operating theater, deep in the heart of the medical wing of the Agency's Wayhaven facility. Forehead pressed against the harsh steel door, he closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow breaths; with each inhale, he counted the beats of the fluttering heart, muted but audible through the door.

I’m obsessed with Gilded Shadows so I wrote a small thing. Too big to be microfiction, so I guess it’s millifiction. And I don’t want to title it.

Anyway Caissa, you only have yourself to blame for this.

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The man walked away, but not before giving me a leering last look that made me want a shower. “Gross, boring, asshole.” The words hissed out between my teeth as I offered the man one last smile before he looked away. Sometimes it was necessary to go to such lengths to maintain the appearance of civility around these people. 

I hate these parties. I avoided them as much as possible. But schmoozing was occasionally necessary, so here we were. At least I’d gotten better at it since the engagement party. Barely.

I felt Caissa’s presence behind me before his hand on my back and his voice low in my ear. “Not very creative. I much preferred ‘insipid troglodyte’.” I could hear the mirth in his voice as his arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I hope you’re not losing the edge off your sharp tongue.”

Oh, so my dear husband thought it was a good idea to tease me while my patience was down to a thread, did he? So be it.

I turned in his arms, wearing a smile that was just wicked enough that I caught the arch of his brows before I tugged him closer to whisper into his ear. “If my tongue isn’t sharp enough to entertain you, then maybe it’s soft enough to please you in other ways.”

I could feel the shudder roll through his body, and then the tension that followed as he tried to suppress any visible reaction to the feeling of my tongue darting out to catch that spot just below his ear, the one I knew was particularly sensitive. He froze. I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing entirely, in fact. It was the perfect opportunity to avoid retaliation; I pressed a kiss to his cheek, stepped out of his arms, and chirped, “Enjoy the rest of the party, darling!” before escaping across the room to the refreshments table.

I had this funny feeling that we were going to excuse ourselves and retire for the night some time soon. Call it theakinesis, I guess. 

Mira x Adam: Arguments

When Adam first met the detective, he'd been convinced that her teasing was simply a means of undermining his authority. Slowly, as he came to know her, he began to think that this was her way of expressing interest, like a school-yard crush. Then, with dawning guilt, he slowly understood that it was more a defense mechanism; a way for her to show her feelings without opening herself to the rejection they both knew he'd provide in return.

But while each of these assumptions was true, in their own way, none of them were complete in their understanding of why she liked to needle and annoy him so. He came to this realization only once his last shred of willpower had been spent, once he finally gave into his feelings.

He thought she'd stop, or lessen the habit, now that he'd offered his heart to her in place of the expected rejection, now that their feelings were beyond that of a crush, now that they'd grown comfortable enough with each other that petty squabbling over authority was unnecessary. But while it was less defensive, less petty, less defiant, it was not less often. If anything, she did it more. Baffling.

Wayhaven Detective Mira Adler

Mira Adler is:

Mira on:

I almost feel bad that Adam has to endure her. Almost. But we all know he loves it (and her).

Mira x Claus - Making Up For Lost Time

"Terrible idea." It was the third time he'd said it - sixth, if one counted synonyms. But it was true. He didn't like this idea. The tension in his body was visible in the way his shoulders were pulled up around his ears, and in the way he squinted irritably down the hall, paranoid that someone would come wandering in this direction and ruin everything.

"Oh, stop whining," Mira chirped, grey eyes flashing in his direction for just a moment before she returned her attention to the lock she was currently picking. "You didn't get what you came for last time, and it was obviously worth getting shot over. We should get it."

Claus checked the hall again, and spared a glance down at the thief crouched in front of the door. He wished she would hurry up. Not just because of the possibility that someone might see them huddled by the door, obviously up to no good, but because the red party dress she was wearing had a slit up the side, and the way it was draped over her leg - or more accurately not, since it left the long expanse of her thigh perfectly visible - was distracting enough that he wasn't keeping watch down the hallway quite as much as he would like.

Claus has a bad time.

The hallways deep within the castle were silent. The occasional even set of footsteps passed, rhythmic and regular, but otherwise all was quiet. There was a gala being held in the ballroom, several floors above, but with several layers of heavy granite between, not even the slightest vibration or music or rumble of voices reached this dark silence.

At least, not until a cute, drunken blonde woman in a red party dress came stumbling down the hall, giggling to herself. The sound of her heels on the floor clicked with a wobbling irregularity that suggested she was ready to fall over at any moment, even before she came into view, clinging to the cold stone wall for balance.

“H-Hello?” she called out, only to dissolve into another fit of giggles at the way her voice echoed through the halls. “HellooOOOooooOOOOOO!” 

A young man dressed in a utilitarian uniform rounded a corner and looked her critically up and down. “You’re not supposed to be down here.”

A Fairy Tale Ending

The warehouse door slammed open so hard that it broke a hinge and cracked the wall behind it. And if that weren't enough to get Mason's attention, the sound of Felix wailing, "HELP!" certainly did - it sent him scrambling to his feet, cursing softly at the way his eardrums rang with the volume.

He made it to the front entrance in a matter of seconds, skidding to a stop in front of Adam and Felix, who were still just coming inside. He didn't have to ask what was wrong - Mira's limp body in Adam's arms was more than enough explanation.

She wasn't dead. He could hear her heartbeat and the even pace of her breathing. In fact, she didn't even seem to be in distress. He might have guessed that she was just sleeping, if it wasn't for the pronounced, skipping thuds of Adam's heartbeat announcing his anguish at her state. Well, that, and even melodramatic Felix wasn't going to shout for help if he knew she was just napping.

"She won't wake," Adam said, his voice tight. Even though he was speaking to Mason, his gaze never left Mira's face. "The Faeries..." Mason heard Adam's heartbeat thud painfully again, "... did something to her."

Forgotten For A Reason

It was too much. The memories were ringing so loudly in his ears that he had to fight the temptation to press his hands over them, knowing that it wouldn't help. He could taste blood in his mouth; an acrid, coppery tang that wasn't at all like the flavour he thought he knew. An ache echoed in his sinuses, the sort of pulsing pain that came from inhaling the disinfectant fumes.

And the rage. Oh god he shook with it. He was not a man unaccustomed to anger, but the impotence made it feel new. It wasn't a fire; helplessness choked it before it could burn. He was powerless against it.

Whatever it was.

Royal Alchemist: Sublimis

I’ve been obsessed with this game lately, so here, have a fic about f!Alexis and Aurelius. It’s a detailed head-canon account of what happens during the mission to visit Duke Gronos, sometime after Week 50. 

Also some spoilers, I guess? I don’t really explicitly mention any big twists from the main plot, but obviously there are vague references to earlier events in the game, especially since Duke Gronos’ mission is very late in the game.

Warning, it gets a bit spicy (aka NSFW) because apparently I can’t help myself.

Also I wrote most of this while sleep-deprived so... I hope it’s coherent, lol.

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Creak.

My eyelids flutter against the pillow as I’m pulled from sleep by the sound. It could be the natural groaning of a manor house like this - especially one by the sea. But as I have suffered a remarkable number assassination attempts of late, I do not feel much inclined towards assuming such sounds are the harmless groaning of timber in the salty air. I murmur what I hope is a convincingly sleep-addled sound and snuggle deeper into my blankets, pulling them up around my chin to hide the telltale petals on my neck.

Wood magic flows out of me, seeking the presence of intruders, and I find one immediately, only steps from my bed. I don’t move, don’t change the deep, even rate of my breaths. One of my eyes cracks open. My vision swims with sleep, but see all I need; the glint of steel rising up over my prone body. The room is still and silent, but it no longer feels like peace. Now, it feels like the calm before a storm, and I mean for the storm to catch my assassin by surprise. I give no indication that anything has changed - the first they know of my defense is the wind that lashes out of me, throwing my assailant hard against the opposite wall. He gives a cry of surprise, but the sound is cut short with a crack as he hits the brickwork and falls silent.

Photographs

Content Warning: this fic includes references to past sexual assault.

Evelynn sighed, rubbing at her temples against the seed of a headache that was beginning to form there. She'd been staring at her computer screen for too long - which was, honestly, saying a lot for someone with her hobbies.

A warm hand slid across her shoulders to clasp the back of her neck, strong fingers massaging away some of the tension that was gathering there. A low, sultry voice whispered into her ear, "Need a break?"

Evelynn could fee the blush spreading over her cheeks - from his tone, she knew exactly what kind of break Mason was suggesting while he hovered behind her, trying to gently urge her from her office chair. "Ugh. I wish, but I really need to finish these forms and--"

"Morning, angel."

Breathing Truth

Empty burning panic pressure relief release I just need to breathe oh god please....

Penelope jerked, throwing off her blankets in a moment of disoriented fright. She might have made a sound, but it was swallowed by the deep, gasping breaths she took as she sat halfway up in her bed, having tossed the duvet completely onto the floor. The air felt good on her skin. Tilting her head back, she let her eyes slip shut as her breathing - though she continued to fill her lungs to bursting with each breath - began to slow.

A Surprise That Is Actually Surprising, Part 2

"I could really get used to doing my homework like this every night."

A soft chuckle sounded behind her. She could feel his chest rumbling against her back, the motion more clear than the sound itself had been. Penelope and Cove were sitting on the luxuriously queen-sized bed in Cove's hotel room; Penelope was overjoyed at the prospect of being able to sleep in a proper bed, rather than on the tiny single foam "mattress" that came standard in the dorm rooms on campus. Cove was seated with his back against the headboard, cushioned by the half-dozen pillows that every hotel bed seems to have. Penelope was seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, her legs propped up in front of her to serve as a makeshift desk. Cove had his arms looped loosely around her waist and his cheek was rested lazily against the top of her head. She'd actually thought he might have fallen asleep like that, had he not responded to her little joke. She had one of her textbooks pressed against her thighs as a writing surface, and was putting the finishing touches on a math assignment.

A Surprise That Is Actually Surprising

Our Life fic, post Step 3, shortly after Penelope heads off to attend UC Berkeley.

The crab skittered across the sandy bottom of the pool, leaving swirling water visible only in the way the sunlight filtered through the otherwise still water.

Penelope crouched over the tidal pool, trying not to cast a shadow over the little creature, lest she startle it into hiding under the rock again. Grinning, she snapped a couple of photos with her ancient camera; sure, her phone had a better camera on it than this old thing - not exactly shocking, given that she'd had this since she was 12 - but she wasn't about to risk dropping her expensive new phone into the water, so this was a fair compromise.

"Pen? I thought you were already finished."

Like Clockwork: Revelation

It was grossly unfair, Vivienne thought, to have to watch Evelynn’s bright smile and hear her easy laughter throughout the entire evening. She was not, as a rule, a jealous woman, but it seemed that she was made jealous by being so unable to act upon her own desires. Or perhaps jealousy wasn’t quite the right term for what she felt - it wasn’t truly that she was jealous of the fact that the light of her life was shining so brightly for others. No, she just resented the fact that, in the act of witnessing those dazzling smiles, the other guests forced Vivienne to contain herself and the affection that she wished to shower upon the object of her growing feelings. Though... perhaps resentment wasn’t the right term either and... Ah. She should hardly be surprised, she decided, that thoughts of Evelynn could steal the words from a poet and author.

As the evening wore on, Vivienne withdrew into the library, avoiding the crowds and laughter. She was a socialite of standing and grace, but even so, she found it tiring to play the hostess, and it was only moreso when she had to put so much effort into holding herself back from touching one particular guest too often. The guests would be fine for a few minutes without the lady of the house - she needed a few minutes to recover her willpower so that she might face Evelynn again without feeling overcome by the urge to kiss those smiling lips.

“Are you alright?”