Monthly Writing Challenges

The morning started that same way it started most mornings on the Moby Dick, half the crew was sleeping off what they had drank the night before, the other half were trying to get a jump on whatever tasks were assigned to them before the daily chaos on the ship started threatened to interfere with the tasks. 

It was precisely then that two of the lookouts in the top crowsnest spotted something on the horizon.

“Oh shit, what’s the Navy doing just sprouting up now?” the first watchman said, spotting the familiar outline of one of their ships on the horizon. 

“You got to be joking,” the other guy on watch said, sitting next to him. “We just fought off three of their ships last week. Again so soon?” 

The first guy let out a tired sigh. “That’s what I’m saying, usually they wait another month before trying to take us again.” 

“Maybe they’ll decide to just move on when they see its us?” the second guy said. 

“You talking like that is why you’ve been up here for the last month,” the first guy said as he brought his binoculars back up to his face and got another look at the Navy ship, now not exactly on the horizon anymore. “But based on the way they are pointed, I’d say that ship is coming directly at us.” 

“Ah, fuck,” the second guy cursed as he turned around and leant over the side of the crow’s nest. He yelled down to the men on the deck below them, notifying all of them of the ship coming up. 

Marco picked his head up at hearing that there was a Marine ship on the horizon, letting out a small curse as he spread his flames out into wings and flew up to the top of the main mast. 

“What do we have?” he asked the two watchmen. 

The first guy pointed at the Marine ship now quickly approaching them. Marco took the binoculars from him and held them up to his face, trying to see which Marines exactly were coming to them. 

It only took a couple more minutes before the Haki signature came across loud and clear. 

Monkey D. Garp.  That man had a very distinct Haki signature. Marco didn’t even need to catch a visual sighting of the Marine to know that it was him. 

Damn. 

What was Garp doing coming to them like this? It had been nearly a year since they had had any sort of run in with the vice admiral, yet it appeared that today he was seeking them out. 

Why? 

The Main Moby hadn’t even been to any ports in months, not since they took Ace on board. 

Marco had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut that this was something to do with Ace. From all of the little stories Ace has told so far though, he hadn’t mentioned anything about the Vice Admiral though, had he? 

Even though the Navy warship was still a ways away from the Moby, it didn’t stop Garp from jumping over and landing on the top deck of the Moby Dick. Instantly, everyone on board was on guard, drawing weapons and getting into fighting positions. Marco jumped down from the crow’s nest, coming to stand in front of the Marine. 

The world lit up, and sped back to real time as V's eyes deactivated. As the town lit up, the raffen ran left, looking for cover, and V prepped a grenade, lobbing it at their heels. Grainy red filled their vision again as they short circuited the three strongest, the quickhack latching onto their systems in seconds. One began tracing the hack, while the others crouched behind various cars and blockades.

A second grenade dropped two of them, their red glow fading, and one last electric jolt followed before V darted across the gap, rolling behind the other side of a blockade. A second later, the furthest raffen popped up, sending a spray of gunfire across the street.

'Too little, too late, fuckers,' V thought, catching the nomad with a quickhack. Three down, four to go.

The raffen on the other side of the blockade stood, raising a heavy rifle, and V took the opportunity to slide a neurotoxin-coated knife between his ribs. He grunted, dropping the gun, and V rolled to the side to avoid it before sprinting forward.

"There!" One shouted, standing. Panam's cover fire downed him.

The last two had ducked into the road-side bar, and both rounded on V at their allies' shouts. Red bled around them again as V rebooted both their optics, shooting one in the chest and kicking the other's gun to the floor. Panam rounded the corner and finished the disarmed woman, and V spun, vision lighting up again to ensure they were alone.

In a younger year, the dry heat would've been broken by crickets or frogs, but the town around them was silent save the buzzing of the newly restored electricity and the drip of blood. Panam rifled through the pockets of the mohawked woman, retrieving her keys, and made for her car.

V began collecting the fallen guns.

"Should get a recording when you down Hellman's AV." Johnny materialized in a haze of glitches.

"Yeah?" Their pockets yielded little but ammo and some spare parts.

"You'd have all those suits shitting themselves silly."

"Maybe I will." Suddenly, V tilted their head up. The air had shifted, wind blowing in a new direction and bringing with it the smell of rain. They finished grabbing the parts and did a final sweep, jogging for the car.

The passenger side door was barely shut when it began to pour. Sheets of rain battered down on the truck as Panam pulled away from the gas station, rippling down the windshield and pattering on the roof. Behind the forest of windmills, the clouds flashed, once, twice, streaks of lightning splitting the rain.

The sky lit up, horizon to horizon, a wall of blinding white. For a second, the truck lit up, throwing Panam's profile and tight curls into sharp relief. Then the roar of the thunder struck, almost physically rolling through the car. The radio cut to static for a second, the windows rattling. Panam reached up and popped the roof.

They sped through the California desert, Johnny smoking scentlessly in the backseat, radio on low occasionally dropping back into static. Panam was going on about Nash and revenge, but V was more interested in the warm rain slanting through the popped roof and playing over their arms.

"Let's go run the goods first, huh? Deal with traitorboy after. We got the truck, finish biz while the night's young. 'Sides, this storm's lookin bad."

Panam cast them a look. "Are you even listening?"

Johnny chuckled in the back seat. "She got you there."

"Of course. Revenge, betrayal, revenge," V smiled winningly, "We've all been there. It's practically on the way."

Panam rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. V checked out of the phone call, focus back on the rain-clouded sky beyond the windows.

She felt Johnny materialize behind her. "You know, you can roll the window down." The note of amusement in his voice did little to phase V.

"What, looking to get me wet?" Johnny huffed and disappeared. The low hum of the motor blended well with the drumming rain, and soon water cascaded into the car, pooling at their feet and dripping out the sides. Panam made an annoyed sound but made no move to stop V as they stuck their head out, watching the desert pass by.

\\

And Groot could've stuck his branches into the water and grown pretty flowers . . .

Groot stuck his head into the water.

"How many times do I have to tell you; don't drink fountain water, you idiot! That's disgusting." Rocket, never far from his friend except when he was, appeared predictably beside her.

"Yeah, put your feet in it and grow some sea grass. God, Groot." She sighed, theatrically.

"What are you trying to do here, anyway?" Rocket was doing that thing where he tried to pretend not to care but he secretly cared a lot. What a tsundere.

"I wanted to make a waterfallllllll," she whined, "And little pools and plants and a brook and trees and dappled sunlightttttt."

"There isn't even sunlight here, there's no star." Rocket pointed out.

"I read it, in a book. The sunlight dapples when you have trees." She stomped her foot, and flowers sprouted up around it. "And look how dusty and terrible the ground is. One erosion and the entire place will fall apart! In a landslide! And we'll all die!"

"I am Groot."

"Exactly!" She gasped and stomped her foot, turning to Rocket. "YOU can help me! Make a river!"

Rocket groaned, pretending to be put upon (she hoped).

"Pleeeeeeee-"

"I am Groot-"

"-eeeeeeeee-"

"Okay, alright, I'll do it! But only 'cause you need more fresh water!" He pointed an accusing finger at Groot.

They both cheered.

------

Eve was lucky she was no longer doing the project, because it turned out adding a river to a skull floating through space was kind of difficult.

Which was bullshit.

Rocket seemed to actually be enjoying the project, Groot faithfully at his side, and had recruited the help of Cosmo the space Laika. Drax kept dropping by to "help" (argue with Rocket) followed by an excited Mantis and a watchful Nebula. Eve was convincing her to draw different Earth plants, and while doing so, unstealthily playing different Earth music. It was no surprise she'd hated Peter's music, of course, because he only had stupid old music, but she had a broad and updated repertoire that would surely bring her over to the dark side.

Unfortunately it was looking like she liked classical music.

Peter, of course, was off smooching his girlfriend like some sort of disgusting loser.

She was already planning what projects to masterfully manipulate her friends into doing next. She wanted to have seasons, and lights that made heat, and snow, and butterflies, and birds, and some cats. . .

One of the things she missed most from Earth was birds. You never really saw them, except you did, constantly, and it was only when you didn't that you realized they were gone. There were always crows everywhere, and raptors and hawks of various kinds, and little house sparrows everywhere, and they made so much noise, especially in the morning. Ships, when their engines were off, could be dead silent. The air didn't hiss through any vents. The wiring was good enough not to buzz. The lights never whined, there were no fridges to hum, air conditioning never activated. Clocks didn't tick. There were no birds, and no bugs, and usually no other animals. When the ship was crowded enough, you could hear everyone else breathing, but that was muffled into nothingness in just a few walls. Her main hobby had been wiring more and more speakers into her walls, to play her pilfered CDs or her mp4.

Knowhere, of course, didn't have that issue. Not only were there people up 24/7, but the walls were thin and shitty, and let lots of noise through. No matter where you went, you could constantly hear talking and laughing and yelling, and usually some music. And NOTHING ELSE. It was better than silence, but GOD was it annoying!

However, with the completion of this project, there would be water noises. And after that, there would be birds. Or frogs. Croaaaaak.

------

Knowhere had much cleaner drinking water. New pipes had been laid after the discovery of some lead ones had freaked Eve out, they had constructed a singular, very short water tower, there were new filtration systems, they were chemically treating it . . .

They also had gradually cleaner air. Large fans pulled air through filters; sections of colony space were sealed in huge domes, made of glass panes, which looked like bug's eyes; they had begun dampening the mining areas and the transport drones to keep dust from floating everywhere . . .

They were even composting. They were collecting food scraps and then putting them in a pile in the dirt. Like hippies!

And they had NO RIVER. Eve wasn't one to complain, really (she was). But all that was coming of her sole hope and dream was that one, deary waterfall. And it didn't even have a small pond below it! It fell into a tank and then was cycled back up on the same system she'd made. The water had cleared up a bit, she would give them that, but it had mostly just settled at the bottom of the tank. Where there was a layer of black grit. It probably wasn't even clean enough to go swimming.

------

Drax was making fun of her again. Apparently, all of the renovation projects were actually for the river. The clean water meant that the water in the stream wouldn't poison the plants (or people). The air filters meant that the waterfall wouldn't instantly get polluted by pulling smog out of the air. The composting (which was not done on colony planets, usually) was making "nutrient rich" and "healthy" soil (could soil even be healthy?) which apparently wouldn't turn to dust the second you looked at it wrong.

Mantis was talking excitedly about alien tomatoes.

They were all following Rocket, Groot, and Nebula, who were excitedly (in their own ways) leading them through some back alleys into a construction zone that had been fenced off for like forever. Peter and Gamora were, again, snogging in the back.

Then Groot raised the last flap, and Eve beheld a wonder! Beautiful beyond compare, azure blue surrounded by black cascades, stunning, magestic . . .

\\ (2)

"Wow."

Rocket, who had turned to see their responses, threw his hands up in the air. "Wow?! C'mon! You know how long I spent on this? And a 'wow' is all I get?"

Peter laughed, pushing his way to the front of the group. "It's awesome, buddy. Really. Could do with a little mood lighting, but . . ."

"I am Groot!"

Rocket snarled. Loki, watching them amusedly, twirled her fingers. Green seidur swirled around his fingers, and the fluorescents backlighting her faded into darkness. It spread outwards, dimming headlights, bar signs, and probably other stuff. Then they dipped a finger in a nearby puddle, and wrote "MAIYIR" on the stone.

Around the lake, hanging from curved poles or the cliff face, little wrought iron lanterns appeared. They filled the clearing with a warm glow, light reflected off the rippling water and the spray glittered. It was very pretty.

Peter and Gamora were whispering together like losers.

Eve made eye contact with Rocket, and the raccoon grinned toothily. He leapt at Peter's face while Eve rushed at Gamora. Peter, very uncoordinatedly, immediately fell into the water. Groot snatched Rocket out of the air before the drops could land on his fur. Gamora, unfortunately, was somewhat competent, and Eve could not push her into the water. She smiled down at her, and then, while Eve fruitlessly pushed, pretended to slip and fall backwards.

Peter shouted in alarm and attempted to catch her. Unfortunately, his coordination had not magically improved, and he slipped on some algae or something, and only managed to get knocked back into the water below her. What a skill issue.

Rocket cackled from his perch on Groot, and Mantis laughed, hitting Drax's arm. "She fell into the water, and when he tried to catch her, he fell again!"

"Yes," Drax agreed, "He is very clumsy." He addressed Loki, "Is your brother here? I would like to see him again. He is a true man."

Loki made a disgusted face. "Not you too!"

Eve giggled and crouched down, huddling over a lantern. The shadows from the bars wavered and danced over the water, which ripped from where Gamora, Nebula, Groot, and Peter were splashing and throwing each other. The flames let off a soft heat, and she rested her cool fingers against the metal, soaking it in.

A swirl of magic behind her announced Loki's presence. They leaned over her, sheltering her in the shadow of his cloak. A gentle hand ran over her hair. "Happy Solstice, darling."

She smiled and leaned back into her, and together they watched the lantern slowly burn away.

\\ (1)

@monthlywritingchallenges

Steve didn’t know when they had gone from stargazing to making out in the grass, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

There was heat in every kiss and every touch. Steve felt Bucky’s teeth nip at his lower lip and he held back a low moan.

He suddenly needed to touch all of Bucky’s skin. As he slid his hands up Bucky’s shirt, caressing warm smooth muscle, he crawled down Bucky’s body.

He unbuttoned Bucky’s pants and pulled his cock out, licking his lips in anticipation. His own personal midnight picnic.

Bucky gasped as Steve swallowed down his cock.

~~~~~~~~

Day 15 of @monthlywritingchallenges Firefly July: midnight picnic

Whenever night fell, she would draw the curtains until the darkness in her room became absolute. She dressed her entire body, covering every inch of skin except for her eyes. For this she used a burqa she had bought in a distant Eastern country. Had the kind merchant who sold it to her—after the customary bargaining—known the true purpose of her purchase, he would almost certainly have accused her of blasphemy and lust. But she cared little for the moral implications of what she did, and every single night, without exception, she surrendered herself to her absent body.

The bed, fitted with a water mattress, had been chosen specifically for the sensation of weightlessness that water could imitate. Weightlessness. Bodilessness. For could one truly possess a body without feeling its crushing weight?

Sometimes she dreamed of outer space. Perhaps, in the vacuum beyond gravity's grasp, she could exist in a state of perpetual sexual ecstasy—a life that was itself an orgasm, severed from the confines of her own skin.

Those fantasies prepared her. She slipped a hand beneath the layers of clothing until she reached the warmth of her vagina—the only trace of her flesh that did not fill her with revulsion. Her cold fingers parted her womanhood until they found its essence, that exquisitely sensitive point.

In the darkness, her eyes wide open, she masturbated to her hatred of the body—her own as much as everyone else's. She stretched her thoughts of bodilessness to their furthest limits. She imagined endless ways of erasing flesh, and the more grotesque those fantasies became, the greater the pleasure gathering inside her.

She was not a masochist in the conventional sense. She did not long to have pain inflicted upon her body as part of some erotic game. That would still require her to inhabit herself—to feel, to perceive, to acknowledge her own physical existence.

She wanted not to exist in the physical world at all, but rather as some fleeting erotic impulse that rises, reaches its peak, and then quietly dissolves, fulfilled.

To her, that was what true feminism meant.

But tonight her ritual was interrupted by the foolish little insect.

Moved by a sense of kinship, she made an unprecedented decision.

She left the curtains open.

The moonless night was dark enough anyway.

She lay down and surrendered herself to her sexuality. The moment her fingers began to move, the creature started to glow.

With quiet astonishment, the girl realized that the plain-looking insect was, in fact, a firefly.

The first firefly she had ever seen.

As a child she had listened to her grandmother's stories about those strange, fairy-tale creatures, yet she had never once seen one with her own eyes. The awakening of her curiosity, however, did not entirely distract her from the pleasure she sought. She continued her exploration of absence.

She noticed that her arousal seemed to grow in perfect step with the intensity of the firefly's light. Her clitoris became increasingly tense, deliciously tender, while the tiny creature illuminated more and more of the room.

Soon, its glow reached her own body.

She could make out its outline beneath the heavy layers of fabric, and for the first time she felt none of the revulsion she had always expected. The familiar spasm of nausea did not rise in her stomach.

She wanted to undress.

Trying not to interrupt the rhythm of her masturbation, she peeled away every layer until she was left wearing only her underwear. Propped upright in bed, her gaze drifting between the dazzling light of the firefly and the shape of her own body, she reached an orgasm unlike any she had ever experienced.

Her body trembled with waves of pleasure. She threw back her head and allowed the ecstasy—and the light—to fill every part of her being.

The firefly stopped glowing.

She got up and walked toward the windowsill, wondering what had happened. Crouching until she was level with the tiny insect, she could have sworn that it looked at her with quiet satisfaction before taking flight into some unknown corner of the dark room.