#ah the process of slapping my hand on the tablet for long enough that something eventually happens LOL

[chopshajen]

Happy to post my piece for the @namingofcatszine! I had the honor of drawing Macavity >:D (ft. Demeter)

From concept to execution this piece was a real challenge for me but so, so fun! Macavity is such an intriguing, arresting character with so many different interpretations - I primarily drew inspiration from his 2016 Broadway revival design. I really hope I conveyed his mystery >:3

I’m sooo grateful for getting the chance to participate ❤️ This was my first ever zine and I had such a wonderful experience working alongside so many talented artists, writers, and creators. Peach did a fantastic job coordinating, shoutout to them!

(FYI: when I entered the zine I was using drygrasses as my signature but have since started using chopshajen as my primary art handle, which is why I’m posting it here)

[anothertimdrakestan]

Set In Stone - Choose Your Own Love Story Prologue (Tim Drake or Bart Allen x Reader)

Words: 2k

~ AH!!! Welcome to my newest multi chapter fic! Except there’s a twist! It’s up to you dear reader. I’ll be writing two different stories about each path, like a choose your own adventure, except you choose how your love story progresses to the eventual end! There will be a private masterlist specifically for this series where you can choose the way your personal love story unfolds. Just know that the future is never cemented, meaning you can always go back and try again! Think of this as the prologue to the actual event, but your first decision drops tomorrow, meet Bart or dig deeper into Tim? Hope you enjoy! ~

Seeing teenage heroes was really something else. They were your age, and they weren’t grumpy and old like the Justice League. “Okay well this is fun and all but I wanna hang with people my age!” you groaned following J'onn down the never ending corridors of the Watchtower. “You know your powers are not fit for the type of missions the Young Justice team attempt, you are arguably weaker than the regular human” he reminded you. That was rude. “Am not! I’m an asset! I can’t get hit cuz I know where they’re gonna swing so who cares if I have a mental breakdown every once and while!” J'onn knew you weren’t wrong, you taking a hit was a rare occurrence, but the Justice League refused to risk you even taking one hit, you’d protected thousands by scanning the infinite number of different possible futures. 

“Everything you need is here” you replied “I knew you were gonna say that, like I literally knew it” you also knew you had to prod J'onn just for about two more minutes until you met Nightwing. “Oh my god Nightwing fancy seeing you here!” you grinned at J'onn who now understood your goal. “Hello, I didn’t know the YJ team had a new member?” Dick glanced at J'onn who shrugged. “Do not blame me Nightwing, Flash found her and the team agreed she stays with us” you rolled your eyes before starting with Dick Grayson, but he didn’t know you knew that yet. 

“Hi! Y/N, no last name. Flash found me when he ran into the future and I was totally feeling the mode because I got these powers [ you tapped your head as Dick smirked ] and I can like see different parts of future when I’m super focussed, so like short time is kinda easy but far away and hard and I don’t remember anything from my past. I’m like a future only kinda girl.” you sighed, hoping you’d made sense. Dick’s eyes lit up. “So you don’t have a family, and they’re just keeping you here?” you nodded, crossing your arms to try to look more emotionally secure. 

“Dibs” and something sparked in your head, this was a new future. It hurt. You sunk to the ground clutching your head as a new future bounced around your consciousness. Trying to shake out of it you realized you’d been carried to a med bay, Dick and J'onn stood above you looking concerned. Pushing them off you as you got up you explained “sometimes people make big decisions that change the future, I’m guessing you calling ‘dibs’ on me changed something, but I’m a little too tired to check if that’s okay, also what does dibs even mean?” and Dick smiled, “you’ll have to come find out!” and against J'onn’s protests he pulled you towards the Zeta Tubes. 

Flash zipped in front of you and Dick. “No.” and Dick waved him off. “I’m taking her to the manor, get her to meet the family maybe I’ll get a sister if Bruce is in a mood” he waggled an eyebrow at Flash who was focussed now on you knowing he couldn’t get in Dick’s way. “I know you don’t know him yet but if Jason Todd asks you to do anything that seems dangerous say no. And watch out for Damian’s swords. I guess just look for Tim Drake, he’s a good one” and he patted you on the shoulder. “Go feel the mode kid”  and you face palmed. “Flash you mean crash the mode oh god don’t even try to be cool” you groaned. “You totally have to meet Bart” Dick mumbled before he cleared you for zeta tube access. 

You appeared in what can only be described as a man cave. There was a giant computer where a tiny boy sat covered in leather typing. There was a teenager looking about your age punching dummies while another boy was shooting literally guns at the dummies. “Welcome to the batcave!” Dick announced loud enough for the three boys heads to turn. The smallest boy stopped typing and stalked over to you. “A little young for you Grayson, stolen her from the baby justice team?” you knew this was Damian Wayne, and you couldn’t contain yourself.

“OH MY GOD BATMAN HI!” you screeched pulling him into your chest. “You’re totally crash like so cool but you’re so little right now! Last time I saw you, you were like super tall but you totally got moded or something - oh I wasn’t supposed to say that don’t worry!” Dick nudged you “this is Robin, Batman, Bruce Wayne, is in his office” and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Right, no spoilers” and Damian stood still, processing his own future. “Moving on, Tim and Jason!” the two older boys had come down to get a closer look.

“Hood, Drake, this is totally cool!” you exclaimed, shaking their hands. “Why is he Red Hood and I’m Drake? Not Red Robin?” Tim looked puzzled. Best not ruin his life like that, this was one of the few things you planned on changing. “Because I know you’re Tim Drake! So does the world, Drake is a good LAST NAME right? Red Robin is totally crash for a hero name!” and Tim looked a little confused, but brushed it off. “What the demon said, she new?” and you shook your head, explaining your story again.

“20 bucks says adoption papers” “50 says she gets a room” “75 on a new animal persona” the boys started screaming bets as soon as they heard the “family trauma emotional instability” part. “Why can’t she be in Young Justice? Or the Outsiders? She’s still a teenager” Tim looked confused. “I dunno man, she’s been with the JL for a while because she’s apparently delicate which is bullshit” Dick explained and you strongly agreed. “None of you could even land a hit on me” you puffed out your chest. “Care to defend that claim?” Damian unsheathed a sword. “No! J'onn sai-” you cut Dick off. “Absolutely ”.

Now you were dodging and ducking Damian’s advances. You’d swung a couple punches but it means undoing some focus which allows Damian to get his own shots in, so you mostly stayed on defense, letting him get frustrated and tired. “I think you’ll get better with practice baby Batman” you teased him. Next was Jason, bullets were hard to avoid because you didn’t have lightning fast reflexes, although that would be nice. But Jason wasn’t as calculated as Damian so you could play a little dirtier. Knocking his guns out of his hands you let up, “this is boring I’m done” you raised from the ground where you and Jason had tumbled down on. 

“So you really have powers. Your moves are all the most probable choice mathematically, you can’t be running the numbers in your head that quick!” Tim was toying with a tablet, shocked at your prediction abilities. “That’s right Boy Wonder, that was fun but I’m feeling kinda diz-” and then you realized you’d overworked yourself a little bit, and it all faded to black. 

You woke up to fully aged Batman. “Oh god no I’m back. How am I back! Damian you were just a kid like ten minutes ago! How long have I been out?” you began to throw blankets off yourself, blankets? You were in a bed in someone’s room. “Calm down, Y/N, Y/N! It’s okay!” and the Older-Damian just enveloped you in a hug. You couldn’t remember the last hug you’d had. Literally couldn’t remember. And it was a welcomed comfort. Pulling away you got a closer look, and it wasn’t Damian Wayne, but Bruce. 

“Bruce right? Current Batman?” you whispered, trying to wrap your mind around what had just happened. “That’s me, I see you’ve met my son, at multiple ages too” his eyes were smiling but his mouth wasn’t, it showed concern. “Yes, I did, I’m sorry for being a nuisance, it’s a pleasure to meet you but clearly I’m a bit moded so I should head back to the tower” you explain beginning to get up. “Actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you feel alright? [ you nodded, your powers were still a little too weak to peek ahead at what he was going to say ] Well, as you can see, I’ve got a couple of children, and you haven’t even met all of them. And I take them under my protection and I train them, and it seems to me you want training. Now you’re not ready for field work but you can start with me and my team, and maybe do a couple visits with the Young Justice team when Tim heads over. I think I can help you, and give you a family, would that be something you want?” 

A family, you had one of those. And you knew the word brought you warmth, that had to be a good thing. “I think I’d like that a lot, but I’m kinda already with the Justice League ya know? Their personal magic 8 ball.” and Bruce shook his head. “They won’t be a problem for me, you’ll fit right in with my family” and you felt a smile spread over your face. “Then it’s a deal!” and you stuck out a hand, Bruce clasped it, pulling you in for another hug. 

“We’ll talk later about what this means logistically, but there’s someone really excited you’re here.” and Tim Drake came bursting through the door, holding cookies. “Welcome to the team Y/N! You don’t know Alfred yet but he made these! I’m so glad you’re here!” he was beaming with excitement. And blushing? “Hi Tim, I’m glad to be here!” you chirped. Bruce mumbled something about paperwork and left the room as Tim continued. “This is totally cool, if you want I can call Bart I think he’d totally want to meet you! Or, you and I could hangout just the two of us!” there was that blush again. “Yeah! Can I just sit and think for a minute before I catch up with you?” this was a decision you wanted to read into, it felt important. 

Tim left, and you sat back into the plush bed, diving into the future. And it was something you hadn’t seen you. There were two futures, still fuzzy from the infinite decisions to be made securing the future, but it was clear enough to see that it was your wedding day. Down one path you saw a beautiful wedding with someone you haven’t met yet, and you looked beyond happy. You heard yourself whisper “if only Tim were here to see this” wiping a tear away in the arms of your lover. Recoiling back you knew this future wouldn’t do, not at Tim’s expense. So you went towards the other. Same set up, but this time it was Tim that you were marrying, but the same tear slid down your cheek “if only Bart could be here” you recognized the name. Bart, the guy you’re supposed to be meeting. 

And you were stuck in the middle no matter what. Like yin and yang you couldn’t find a future where you didn’t end up in the arms of one at the other’s grave. Or worse, in the futures where you tried to pick them over yourself both lost their lives saving you. So how you do pick? Who gets to be your future and who has to perish to secure it?

“Y/N you ready yet?” Tim called from down stairs. It was years out, but you knew every decision you made from now on was one step closer to the loss of a hero. And there was nothing you could do about it. 

First Decision:

Get To Know Tim Drake First

Meet Bart Allen

 ~ I really hope you’re excited to make your own fic! The masterlist with the choices goes up with the actual start tomorrow! I can’t wait!!! ~

[sicprowl]

The Fell-Star P2.3

The Fell-Star Series

Previous     AO3

{Ashe's Log} //FORMAT - TEXT// {DATE: ERA2 Ethereal Moon, 1184}

....................................................................

//LOCATION: KITCHEN//

……………………………………………………….

                                 LOG2

Subject

Girl

The Alien stands at 164cm - or about 5’5”

Weight???

Name unknown

Biology yet to be explored - see Mercedes

Light green hair with matching eyes (they glow?? How??  Why?)

Found on an Empire ship inside a strange egg orb

sample being looked at by Annette - note: don’t forget to visit later

Has a strange connection with the Prince’s Lance

Possibly knows what they are? Creators?  Original owners?

Takes very long baths

Likes kissing   Mute??

……………………………………………………….

”Why’d you cross that last one out?”

Ashe looked like he was about to have a heart attack when Sylvain appeared over his shoulder.  He watched the shorter boy fumble with his tablet, nearly dropping it before the red head caught it.

“A-Ah!   Sylvain!”  He reached up for his device - but the communications officer merely held it higher, reading over the data with a curious quirk of his brow.  Ashe frowned, “Can I have my notes back please?"

Sylvain grunted and began swiping through screens.  “Wow.  You’re really taking this research thing seriously.”

“Of course I am!”  The shorter boy managed to snatch his tablet back and held it close to his chest.

“This is probably the biggest discovery in history!”

“Mmhmm…”

Ashe narrowed his eyes at him, disbelief clear on his face.  “How can you not be excited about this?  It’s an alien!  There’s an alien on our ship!"

“Oh, I care.”  Sylvain shrugged as he glanced elsewhere.

The conversation wasn’t appealing to him anymore, more focused on the array of food set out on the counter top of their small kitchen.  Some of it were from instant packets - disgusting alternatives to real food (cheap too).  Others were various dried meats, rice, beans, and generally things that wouldn’t go bad when stored properly on the ship.  Their group had always preferred real food over the process stuff - maybe it was a Faerghus thing?

“I care about there being another pretty girl onboard~”

Ashe balked, “Sylvain!”

He gave Ashe a cheeky grin and slung an arm over his shoulders.  The communications officer ignored how the freckle-kissed boy tensed up, knowing he was a little too polite to brush him away like the others.   “Look.  Things have gotten real tense around here lately - you can’t blame a guy for getting a little excited, can you?"

“T-That’s not-!!  She isn’t-!!!”  Ashe turned pink while the grip on his tablet went white, “You can’t be serious!!”

Sylvain ignored the boy’s sputtering attempts at reprimanding him in favor of tapping the device’s screen, “Don’t forget to add ‘green fingernails’."

He blinked, “Huh?”

“ ’Green fingernails.’ ”  Sylvain repeated, using his forefinger to write it down.  It came out sloppy and bigger then the other notes on the list, but the red head was satisfied to be of help.  “She’s got these layered, green colored nails.  I guess it is a small thing to notice.”

Ashe looked up at him, brow furrowed and questioning.  The older male shrugged again, not really wanting to go into detail about how he always noticed those kinds of things when it came to girls.  They liked it when you complimented their looks so of course Sylvain would zero in on anything with color or make-up.  Hair was a bit harder; the slightest change was considered new to some girls and it could get a little frustrating.

“Just look at her hands the next chance you get - you’ll see what I mean.”

Sylvain abandoned the confused boy for Ingrid who was busy putting out as much food as she could fit on their dinky, stainless steel counter.  Plopping onto a stool, Sylvain looked over the array of food and whistled.   “Nice buffet you got going there.”

Ingrid shot him a dirty look when he spun one of the plates, watching the grey sludge wiggle suspiciously like jello.  “Don’t you have some place else to be?”

He gave her a noncommittal grunt, eyes trained on a tray of Sweet Bun Trio only for Ingrid to slap his hand away the moment he reached for one.  “Hey…”

“Those aren’t for you,” Ingrid huffed, ever immune to his pout and charming good looks.

Sylvain crossed his legs and slouched against the counter, eyes now trained on the entrance to the kitchen. “Where is the lady of the hour?  I thought she was done with the bath?”

Ingrid paused, eyes suspicious as to how the red head knew their guest was done with using the bathroom.  She almost questioned it, almost.  But she doubted Sylvain would tell her the truth anyways.  She’ll just have to keep an eye on him for now.

“Mercedes and Annette are helping her get some clothes,” she continued to place out more food before taking a step back with a nod.  It seemed like a good variety, so surely there was something here for the alien girl to eat.  “She can’t walk around in His Highness’ cloak all day."

A grin creeped onto his face as his hand reached for a sweet bun, “I’m sure His Highness would disagree~.”

She slapped him away, “No one asked for your opinion, Sylvain.”

It was at this moment the door to the kitchen slid open to reveal Annette and Mercedes, both standing on either side of their strange guest and talking to her despite the alien seemingly not listening.  Sylvain sat up and blinked, his gaze sliding over her new outfit with apprehension. A black top and shorts, both with boob and stomach window.  A corset to hold up her large chest, a bulky accessory of a falling star laying nicely in the center.  He looked down and noted the knee high boots and lace stockings.

“Are you sure you don’t want my opinion?” Sylvain gawked - wondering just what in the seven layers of icy hell she had on.  And why was she wearing the coat like that?  Did she rip holes in the sleeves??  No, this was too much.  He had to say something.  The red head sat up, giving the outfit an incredulous wave.  “I’m not exactly a fashionista but-"

“Look here, Sylvain!!”  Whoa. Annette was not having it today.  “Girls are built differently then men, okay?!  While you guys can share shirts and pants because your planks, us women have curves of all shapes and sizes and it makes shopping really, REALLY hard!”

The communications expert gave a nervous laugh and raised his hands, “I surrender!  Please, have mercy!”

Annette fumed, having been ready to defend the horrible outfit with her life.   It’s not their fault the poor girl was curvy in all the right places!   They had so much trouble finding the right sizes that the alien had almost slipped out of sight after they spent thirty minutes looking for pants.  It also didn’t help that they were all tired from storming that ship, and the adrenaline of finding an alien was keeping them all from getting any sleep.

Sylvain let her cool off before asking another question, unable to keep his curiosity in check as he stared at the green haired girl.  “So, whose stockings are those~?”

To his surprise, it was Ingrid that blushed - her gaze suddenly focused on organizing a plate of cut vegetables.  Suddenly, he was seeing his childhood friend in a new light.

“The boots are mine,” Annette pointed out.  “So is the tie.  The pants and coat are Ingrids and the tops belong to Mercedes.”

Sylvain’s eyes were suddenly on the alien’s chest, grin growing wide at how much perkier it looked with that tight corset on.  Ingrid smacked him upside the head before he could formulate a snarky comment, effectively rattling his brain enough to make him see the error of his ways.

“Anyways,” the blond clapped her hands together while her voice held the same tone she had when flying the ship.  “Let’s get started!”

“O-Oh, wait!”   Ashe fiddled with his tablet a moment before rushing to Ingrid’s side.   He held up the device and a tiny red light appeared on the back as it started to record.  “This is the starship Blue Lion with Officers Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, Mercedes and Ashe.  Log input number three - subject - Food.”

“All right, Ashe.”  Ingrid made sure the alien was watching as she gestured towards the freckle faced boy.  She then looked to the other two girls.  “Mercedes, Annette,  are you ready?"

“Yes!” Annette grinned, taking the alien’s arm and tugging her towards the counter next to Sylvain.  The girl paused, as if suddenly remembering something.  “O-Oh!  Here you go, Ingrid."

Sylvain raised a brow when Ingrid nodded back, only to repeat the scientist’s name again.  He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something here…

Once they got the alien situated next to Sylvain, Mercedes and Annette quickly gathered around for a closer look.  They all waited, watching the mint haired girl stare back with a neutral look.  Mercedes touched the woman’s back, causing the alien to turn and look at her gentle expression.

“It’s okay,” Mercedes encouraged.  “You can have anything you like.”

The communications rested his chin on his hand, watching the display with mild curiosity as the green eyed woman continued on with her blank stare.  If he was going to be honest, her face was a bit creepy.  There was never a clear expression there and whatever face she did make was sometimes so subtle that it was impossible to read.  Sylvain couldn’t help but be reminded of a porcelain doll the more he stared.  Her face was both sharp and smooth; beautiful and pearly under the certain lighting, yet also gave off an eerie feeling of the unnatural.

Green eyes suddenly looked back at him, startling him out of his thoughts with giant, grassy green orbs.  Sylvain swallowed, wondering if she was going to kiss him like she’d done to Dimitri.  That wouldn’t be so bad. Her lips looked pretty soft too.  Probably still moist and warm from her long lounge in the tub.  He bet they tasted good too - something exotic and sweet~.

Sylvain felt disappointed when she looked away to look over the buffet, now finding the grey jello stuff more interesting then him.  He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, wondering why he even bothered coming here if she was just going to ignore him.  Why did any of them bother?  It’s not like she was trying to communicate with them.  Just what were they even getting out of this?

He was pulled out of his thoughts again when Ashe gasped.  The young engineer moved in closer with his camera and kept his eyes trained on the alien girl’s fingers as she palmed a lemon.  There against the bright contrast of yellow, just as Sylvain said, were the alien’s green fingernails.  They weren’t smooth and rounded like human nails.  More so they were layered like worn seashells, ridged and almost sharp looking as they faded from dark jade to lime, like soft watercolors.

Sylvain grinned when the younger male suddenly looked at him with excitement, pointing to her nails and nodding as if they were sharing an inside joke.  He snorted,  I guess seeing Ashe act like this is kind of worth it…

But their smiles were short lived when the alien placed the fruit back down to stare at them once again - silent, blank, creepy.

Mercedes looked at the others with worry, “What do we do?  She doesn’t even look interested in the food.”

Annette hummed, “Do we have anything else she might like?”

“Everything else we have has to be cooked,” Ingrid turned towards one of the tall, steel panels lining the wall.  She laid her palm flat against the surface and watched as the grey panel slowly turn translucent.  On the other side of the glass were shelves hidden behind a cold mist and ice that bordered the edges in tiny fractals.  Each of these shelves was some of their more expensive kitchen items - frozen meats, drinks, emergency supplies, and even alcohol - all stored away for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, suicide missions.

A blue circle of light formed around Ingrid’s palm as the glass collected the data from her hand-print.   Just a split second later, a series of charts and numbers scrolled down the glass, making the blonde gasp and try to hide it with her body.  “D-Don’t look!!”

Sylvain’s eyes lit up with interest when he stood from his seat.  “Was that your weight?!  You eat way more then that!!”

“Sylvain!”  Ingrid stepped away from the panel when cool air hissed out around the edges. Thankfully her health charts were gone so she didn’t have to hide all that anymore (who’s bright idea was it to take that setting off private?).  The pilot pulled open the panel, cold mist puffing against her cheeks as she grabbed a packet of ground beef and a herring.

“Okay, which one of these-!!“ Ingrid jumped in surprise when the alien girl was suddenly at her side, her eyes wide and staring hard at the frozen fish.  “O-Oh!  Do you want this?” The woman was practically drooling when she snatched the fish out of poor Ingrid’s hands.  Ashe suddenly yelled at her to wait, but the alien had already chomped down on the fish’s middle before dropping the frozen creature in shock.   Mouth gaping and hands up as if she’d been burned, the woman looked around at them in confusion.  Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh while Ingrid hurriedly picked the herring up.

“L-Let’s thaw it out first and then you can eat it, okay?”

But the alien showed no signs of understanding, merely held her hands to her mouth to touch her wiggling pink tongue.

“At least we know she likes fish,” Annette giggled along with Ingrid who placed the herring in a device above the stove.  The blonde input a few numbers before starting the defroster and looking to the rest of the crew.  Her eyes landed on the medical expert with a curious look.

“Do you think we should cook it, Mercedes?”

“Oh,” the other woman frowned thoughtfully, “Well…Ingrid, it seemed she was ready to eat it whether it was cooked or not.”

“Good point, Mercedes."

“Okay,” Sylvain’s face screwed up as annoyance bubbled up in his chest.  “What are you guys doing??  Why are you repeating each other’s names???"

Ingrid quickly rounded on him, “Just butt out, Sylvain.”

“Yeah, Sylvain!”  Annette added with a huff, “Butt out!”

The red head looked between them with wide eyes and wondered if he was in some bizarre nightmare.  “S-Stop that!!”

Sylvain was thankful when the defroster finished with a ding, a puff of mist spilling out once it’s door popped open.  They waited as the cloud evaporated before them, revealing the same fish they’d put inside, except no longer frozen.  It’s scales shimmered beneath the device’s tiny spotlight like it was freshly caught from the lakes of Faerghus; a sight that didn’t go unnoticed by their alien friend as she sidled close.  Ingrid grabbed the animal by the tail and held it up with a thoughtful frown.

“So…should I just give it to her?”  The blonde looked around for an answer, “It just feels weird not to cook it.”

Annette shifted in place, finger on her chin as she ran through different case scenarios.  “Well…  We could avoid her getting sick if we do cook it.   So I guess there wouldn’t be any harm.”

“Good,” Ingrid looked relieved.  She wasn’t sure she could stomach watching someone eat a fish raw.  Then she looked at the herring and bit her lower lip.  “I don’t think I’ve ever cooked fish before…”

“Oh!  I can do it,”  Ashe lowered his tablet slightly, but made sure to keep it trained on the alien.  “My dad used to own a restaurant. I helped out a lot around the kitchen, even as a little kid.”

Mercedes blinked in surprise, “I didn’t know that about you!”

The boy blushed, “It’s nothing really.  I just have a little bit of experience, that's all.”

Ashe frowned as he looked at his tablet, wondering what to with it until Sylvain held out his hand.  “I’ll take it.  Can’t stop recording now, right?  For science or whatever?”

“Oh!  Thank you, Sylvain!”

The red head twitched, deciding not to comment on the emphasis on names again.  He adjusted the device until he had everyone in view before giving them a wave.  “Say extraterrestrial!”

“Can you please take this seriously?”  Ingrid huffed as Ashe grabbed an apron and a pan from one of the cabinets.

“I am being serious, Ingrid.” Sylvain gave her a cheeky grin, his camera hand following the alien girl as she walked around his childhood friend with eyes trained on the hanging fish.  “I’m making sure our viewers catch every captivating detail.”

“Well, you sure aren’t-AHHH!!!”

Everyone in the kitchen jumped in surprise, Ashe’s pan and spatula falling to the floor with a clatter, Mercedes and Annette gasping, and Sylvain jumping out of his seat as he caught it all on camera.  The alien had surged forward at the hanging fish, her mouth latching onto the creature’s gills with rows of sharp teeth.  Her head jerked back, making Ingrid recoil and drop it to cover her mouth in horror.  The mint haired girl grabbed the bottom of the fish and pulled hard, severing it’s head with the fervor of a wild beast before she swallowed it whole.

“Oh my!”

Ingrid covered her mouth and hid behind Mercedes, “I think I’m going to be sick…”

Soon the girl was tearing into the rest of the fish, her tiny, prickly teeth tearing at it’s scales for a brief moment before she reared her head back.  Ingrid choked back her nausea as they saw the alien’s throat bob as something seemed to move forward to grab a hold of her meal and pull it down.

“A-Are you getting this!?”  Ashe gasped while his eyes grew wide in wonder.

“Yeah,” Sylvain swallowed.  “Unfortunately…”

“This is amazing!  I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Sylvain glanced over at the gushing boy and wished he could be as happy about this as him.  Because this was just gross.

So very, very gross. ~~~ ♫ when you're down by the sea and an eel bites your knee that's a moray! ♫ ~~~

[neen-writes]

Lady in the Garden -- Chapter 3

Series: Fairy Tail/Doctor Who

Characters: Gajeel/Levy

Genre: Adventure/Angst

Summary: She was a falling star; an angel speaking in stardust dialects.  She was madness and wonder, and she asked him to come with her.

Note: Chapter three!  I initially thought I might make each adventure their owner chapter, but I decided to split this one in two.  I’m not as concerned with making the chapters for this story so long, as the whole thing is gonna be a kinda collection of stories, if it works how I planned it.  So here is the first part of their next adventure!  Also, I am not a historian.  This is why this story is taking me so long and if anyone is wondering, I am 100% basing the setting of this chapter on a mix of scenery from Skyrim and the Witcher, just so I had something to reference.  The third Witcher game, according to my searches, takes place around 1272.  The stories will be far more enjoyable if no one gets hung up on my historic shortcomings...  ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy the next installment, it didn’t quite turn out how I wanted but the next part should be fun to work with!

Ch. 1  Ch. 2

“So where did you say you wanted to go, Mr. Redfox?”  Levy called out over the humming and lurching of her ship.

Gajeel took several moments to answer, trying desperately not to hurl all over the grated floor in front of him.  “P-prove this damn thing is a time machine,” he swallowed heavily and took a deep breath,  “Take me back ten years.  Where you found me.”  

Levy puffed her cheeks, “All of time and space and you pick a decade in your own home town.”  With one hand she spun a dial, and with the other she flipped a lever, “But if you insist.”

The lurching changed distinctly, but was no less terrible on the man’s gut.  A loud wail came from the center console, and he watched the blue-haired woman tilt her head.  As before, the heavy boom signified the arrival and a thankful end to the nauseating shaking.  Levy bounded to the other side of the console, and took a moveable screen in her hands.  “This isn’t...  My dear, I get a new face and you still can’t be bothered to just take me where I want to go?”  The Tardis was silent, of course.  No answer was provided to her, as it never was.  There always seemed to be a good reason for the places her ship took them, but it would be nice to always just go where she requested.

“Well Gajeel, funny story.”

“The hell is funny about this?” the man barked back at her, just barely pulling himself to his feet again.  He hunched over the railing with a groan, calming his stomach with more deep breaths.

“Well, actually, nothing.  Strange how often that’s said when the following story is not funny.  Usually means something’s gone wrong,” Levy rambled, taking a glance at the screen in front of her before bounding around the console towards the doors.  “We haven’t landed in Magnolia.”

Gajeel grumbled and turned his burgundy eyes to the woman, “Then where--”

“We also haven’t gone back 10 years,” She stopped in front of the doors and turned back to him with smile, “Woops?  She does that sometimes. I still promise adventure, don't you fret. I'm sure there's… something worthwhile.”

“Woman…” he growled.  Gajeel finally found his balance and stood without the help of the railing, facing her fully.  “Where are we?”

“When,” she corrected.  “Sometime in the thirteenth century, abouts.  She still a little fuzzy on the coordinates.  Earth, at least.  Solid ground,” she quipped, and with both hands behind her back, she unlatched the doors and flung them open.

The man’s gaze flew upwards from her to the golden-lit scenery beyond her.  His mouth hung open slightly as he stepped forward, moving past her, and stepping carefully outside.  He tested the ground first, and when sure he wasn’t going to fall through some illusion, proceeded out into the clearing.  The earth was plush with fresh grass and moss, and pines towered over them, allowing yellow evening light to trickle through.  The breeze moved sweet, crisp air past him, and the trees sung in response.

Levy came up next to him and inhaled deeply. “Ah, fresh air,” she commented, looking to her stunned companion.  A smile lit up her face at his expression of wonder, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.  It really never got old for her.  “Well, what d’you think?”

“It’s real,” he breathed.

“Well of course it is!  What do you think I am, an illusionist?” Levy pouted, her previous mirth completely deflated by his continued lack of faith.  “I showed you space. And yet, you still doubt me. Tsk tsk, Metal Man.”

“I doubt you because you can’t drive,” Gajeel shot back, quietly disappointed that he hadn’t been taken where he hoped.  Still, this wasn’t a total loss.  The man had to admit that he was, definitely, impressed.  He watched the indignant protest rise in her, and he lifted his hand.  “Fine fine, lead the way, Shrimp.”

“I’m leaving you here. I told you I would if you called me that,” Levy shot back, popping a finger into her mouth and then holding it up into the air.  After a moment, she spun on the balls of her feet and declared, “This way.”

Gajeel squinted in a ‘how the hell do you figure’ manner, before shoving his hands into his pockets and following after her.  Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he noticed a worn road, cutting through the foliage.

Levy quickly glanced both ways, noticing movement and a thinning of the trees in the distance: signs of civilization.  “She doesn’t always go where I want but she always brings me places I need to be.  So here begs the question, why are we needed here?”

Gajeel tilted his head, “Needed?”

“To fix things, I fix things.  Most times.  And my Tardis brings me to places that need fixing.”  She glanced back to him, “The universe is a big place and time is a strange thing.  Sometimes things run amok.  Things come to be where they shouldn’t.”  She could tell he was taking a moment to process what she was telling him.

“But we’re in the past and these things have already happened.  Can’t ya just leave them alone?” Gajeel asked, trying to pace himself next to her.

Levy laughed lightly, shaking her head, and turned her golden eyes onto him, “When I crashed into your hut, what did you do?”

Gajeel was caught off guard by the question and stopped midstep for just a second, “You know what I did.”

The Time Lady sighed, stopping with him and pivoting to face him.  Gajeel felt his breath catch in his throat as the light caught her waves of hair first, then her eyes, but it was a split moment before she started speaking again and he was snapped out of it, “Yes but, it was a choice.  Meaning you had options.  Yes?  What was your other choice?  To not come out at all?  To let someone else handle it?  Then where would we be.  What would our timelines have been?”  She tilted her head, hair shifting with her.  “Think, there is a world full of events where you and I never meet,” she offered a lopsided smile, feigning pity, “Tragic though that is.”  

Gajeel crinkled his nose, following along with what she was saying, but not necessarily her train of thought and where she was going with it.

Levy smiled at his alert expression, glad she had found one that could keep up.  “Now imagine every moment, in every day, is like that.  Every decision spinning a web of possible timelines,” While speaking she had lifted her hands, palms towards him, and spread them slowly apart.  “Now, smack that web up and roll it into a ball,” She slapped her hands together, and started to walk again, clasping her hands behind her back.  “Despite the painfully inaccurate name, timelines are neither linear nor, concrete.”

He blinked, hopping a little to keep following her and curled a skeptical lip while furrowing his brow, “I’ll bite; how could you know that, if you only ever see what you do?”

She laughed, almost bitterly, “Wrong.”  Gajeel pulled his head back a little, surprised by the quick answer.  “I see every possibility, everything past and present and what might be.  It’s a mess of everything at once and makes it terribly difficult to focus on the present when you can feel the literal turn of the universe.”  Her gaze was fixed forward, staring into the distance.

For once, Gajeel had nothing to say back to her, but wished she would look at him so he didn’t feel so, disconnected all of the sudden.  After everything that had happened, he was inclined to believe her, but it was still difficult to wrap his head around.  He felt he was beginning to understand what this sort of travel was supposed to be like, but she… she was still a nebulous concept.

After a long moment, Levy spoke up again, “Which is why I prefer to let is all muddle up as much as possible so I can enjoy just a little surprise in my life.  So let’s figure out why we’re here, hmm?”  She flashed a smile at the half-stunned man, finally making eye contact again, and forged forward.

The trees continued to thin, showing their passage into what looked like some kind of settlement.  Further down, the roadway opened up, lined with stone and wood homes.  To their left, a large plot of land dotted with stone tablets: a cemetery.  Levy stopped, and Gajeel didn’t notice until he was a few paces in front of her.  Handfuls of flowers were placed at the bases of several, but it was the statue in the middle that stopped her.  She knew it wasn’t, the shape and size weren't quite right, but still, the angelic figure gave her pause.  To be sure, she pulled out the silvered pen and pointed it.  The tip lit blue, screeched, and with a flourish she flicked it and brought it up in front of her face, deliberately keeping it in the line of sight between her and the figure.  She released her breath and placed the pen back into her coat pocket.  

Gajeel came up next to her, glancing at the statue and then back to her.  “Uh, what’s that about?”

Levy shook her head abruptly, slowly took her yes off the statue and responded, “Playing it safe.”  She knew he wanted more than that, but she kept walking.  There was no reason to expose him to that part of the universe just yet.  Ideally, ever.  

Gajeel peered searchingly into the small cemetery, but couldn’t see anything that looked out of the ordinary to him.  Still not entirely convinced that the woman wasn’t completely insane, he huffed and trudged after her.  

Chickens darted across their paths, avoiding them, and as each person caught sight of them they looked about ready to do the same.  Conversations fizzled out, and people slowly gravitated away from them.  He briefly met gazes with a woman who watched them with an intensity he couldn’t characterize, be it apprehension or utter disdain, with her hand clasped tightly to a pendant around her neck.  The reactions weren’t lost on Gajeel, and he glanced to Levy but she didn’t seem remotely bothered by it.  Rather, she seemed perfectly comfortable with it.  I doubt it’s the first time, he thought.  

“Do ya have a plan or are we just gonna walk around and scare people?” Gajeel asked finally.

“Innkeep,” Levy replied quickly, her eyes searching each building for something specific.

“Come again?”

Levy rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.  “Oh Metal Man, keep up.  Innkeepers are the heart, and the ears.  Any year.  Innkeepers here, bartenders in the present.  Same thing minus the on site drunk rooms.  Need something answered, or even need what the mumblings are, ask at the nearest inn,” she explained, her gaze finally fixing on a sign in the shape of a rearing horse that swung from hinges over an entryway.  “Ah-ha, here.”

Gajeel lifted his brows and wanted to ask about her total nonchalance, or obliviousness, to everyone’s apparent opinion of their presence.  She strolled up the wooden steps and went to push open the heavy door. As though being snapped back to attention, he quickly moved forward and slapped his palm against the door, just over her head.  The Time Lady shot him a perplexed look as he pushed open the door for her, motioning his head for her to move forward.  “What?” he grumbled, unsure why the gesture would be a surprise to her.

She hummed to herself, looking like a thought had just crossed her mind, but she had already filed it away.  Levy proceeded into the strangely quiet hall, full with people crowded at tables with hot meals and frothing mugs.  In the back corner was the counter--to which people went to and fro with their orders--that she was looking for.

Just like outside, as she casually strode forward, attention slowly fixed upon her and her tall companion,  Now in an enclosed space, Gajeel found himself prickling with awareness to the situation, and without realizing, he quickened his pace just enough to remain close behind the small woman, unbothered though she may be by it all.  

Not to her surprise, as soon as the innkeeper noticed them, she immediately furrowed a brow and barked out an indecipherable word.  The sudden movement of a straw-haired man in leather armor gave her an idea of what was said, and she smirked slightly.  By the time she and Gajeel had approached the counter, what noise there was in the hall had died down to whispers, and the armored man was in between them and the counter.  His hand rested conspicuously atop the pommel of a sheathed sword.  

“Evening,” Levy greeted casually. Her complete disregard for the obvious tone of the situation was surprising to Gajeel.

“What’s your business?” the man replied gruffly, his eyes scanning up and down Levy and then lingering on Gajeel, sizing him up.  

“Food, ideally,” she chirped.  “We’ve come a long way and my dear companion needs a hefty supply to maintain his height,” she had to stifle a laugh at the barely audible growl that rumbled from him, “Might we partake?  I ensure you I can pay.”

“Don’t appreciate strangers around here. Ain't seen folk that look like you two neither.  Where’re your papers?” The guard demanded, while the innkeeper watched on apprehensively, arms crossed.

With the confrontational tone, Gajeel inched a little closer to Levy and tensed, narrowing his eyes at the man.  The shift wasn't missed by the astute woman, and she lifted her hand up to stay him. From the corner of her eye, she gave him a knowing look to try and calm him, before focusing back on the guard. She reached into her coat and dug around a little before pulling out a small leather, folded object, akin to a wallet. Levy held it up in front of her and flipped it open to reveal a paper inside.

The guard stared at it a moment, before his brows rose in surprise. “That’s the Baron’s seal, that is.” His hand dropped quickly from his sword and he eased backwards just slightly. “Forgive the disrespect,” he added with heavy sincerity.  Gajeel leaned forward over Levy, trying to get a look at what she could have shown the guard. Briefly, Levy glanced at it herself, giving him a glimpse. Interestingly, he saw exactly what the guard and innkeeper saw.

From behind him the innkeep leaned to the side and peered around him, mirroring his expression when she noticed the seal as well. “Well I'll be damned. Weren’t expectin’ no men… or a Lady from the Baron’s keep. But all considered it’s about damn time he gave a rat’s arse about his people.” The woman, whose hair was pulled back into a frizzy braid, leaned forward on her elbows over the counter.

“All considered?” Levy probed, before perking a little as though forgetting something, “How rude. You know my name, this rugged beastie here is Gajeel, my escort for travel.” She felt his intense gaze boring into her, but she deliberately avoided looking at him. Still, amusement wrinkled the corners of her eyes. “The Baron told me briefly what I'm to investigate but why don't you fill me in miss…?”

“Trea. The muscle is Warner,” the woman replied. The inn itself started to return to its initial volume, having witnessed the diffusing of the tension as Warner stepped fully aside and leaned back against the counter. “Flashy dress for a scout but the hell I know from our corner of the world,” Trea shrugged, “just glad he finally decided do somethin’ about the stupors.”

Levy nodded, “How much worse has it gotten?” It was clear to Gajeel that she knew exactly what to say, and that she had done this before.  It sounded effortless, calm, and it worked.

“Worse,” Warner replied gruffly.

“People’re dropping like flies.  Just three nights past we found another possessed with the fits, just in the middle of the road like the others,” Trea added.

“Sure they ain’t just coming down with the plague or some shit?” Gajeel finally found his voice and, much to Levy’s dismay, it was about as insensitive as she had hoped he wouldn’t be.

Trea shot him a harsh look, brown eyes narrowed.  “We ain’t stupid, wouldn’t have sent so many letters for help for an imbalance of the humors,” she replied bitterly, “Every person has been accounted for as being entirely healthy not hours before.  They’re always found outside, at night, in tremors speakin’ nonsense.  After the fits subside they’re just… empty.  Not coughin, wheezin, or feverish.  They just lie in their beds until they pass of the hunger or thirst.  The people’re fearin’ a curse.”

Levy nodded knowingly, tucking her paper back into her coat. “Looks like we’ve got work to do.  Might you have a room for us for a few nights?  In exchange for the Baron’s interest and generosity?”

Warner looked to the innkeep, who looked at them thoughtfully for a moment.  Finally her gaze settled on Gajeel and she jabbed a finger at him, “Long as you keep him quiet.  I know his kind and I don’t like the look of him.  Nothin’ but trouble.”

Gajeel prickled and moved forward, before a tiny finger shot up in front of his mouth and rested daintily against his lips, stopping him in his tracks.  He looked down incredulously to the tiny woman, and couldn’t help but be surprised she could reach high enough to shush him, which in itself was enough to get her the desired outcome.  

“Of course.  I’m well-versed in his handling, I assure you,” Levy replied brightly, feeling him take her hand in his and pushing it down away from him before releasing her.  

“Then it’s settled. Come to me when you’re ready and I’ll show you which is yours,” she reached under the counter and produced a brass key, handing it over to Levy.

“Thank you.  We’ll do our best to be on our way as soon as possible,” the Time Lady smiled reassuringly to the woman.  

“Hush.  Have a seat at a table and I’ll bring you somethin’.  The Baron may be slow to care about his people but he always sends compensation when it’s due.”  And with that Trea turned, disappearing into a doorway in the back through which savory scents had been wafting since they entered.

“Ya gonna explain how you knew what to show them to let us stay?” Gajeel asked, staring down at the roasted chicken in front of him, unsure if he trusted it enough yet.  Even if Levy had already dug into hers.

The Time Lady tilted her head a little, before humming, “You mean this?” with her free hand, she pulled out the paper she had shown earlier and held it up.  

Gajeel scowled, leaning forward slightly, “This some kind of joke?  It’s blank.” It was the same leather holder, the same sized card, but now there was nothing on it.  It was just a simple piece of paper.  

She laughed, marveling at the things that never got old, no matter how many times she had done this song and dance.  “Psychic paper.  Shows the viewer what I need them to see.  You saw the Baron’s seal because that was what would get us in here.  I have nothing I need to show you, so you see nothing.”  She turned her eyes to his untouched plate and pursed her lips a little.  “Just eat it, you won’t die.  Everyone else seems fine enough.  Wash it down with the ale.  You can have mine too, I don’t care for the taste.”

He frowned at her, glancing around the room, before finally caving and picking up the mug.  He lifted his brows after taking a sip and hummed, It ain’t bad.  Here’s hoping it doesn’t kill me.  But if there’s one way to go…  he thought.  “So.  Is this what you do?  Pick up weird rumors and figure them out?”

Levy knit her brow a little, sitting up straighter.  “What an unfortunate oversimplification.  How little you must think of me.”

“I hardly know you.” Gajeel shot back, “You gotta work for the praise, Shrimp.”

She shifted with a heavy intake of breath, closing her eyes for just a moment to center her patience.  He showed no signs of leaving the nickname behind, which meant she might as well start to adjust to it.  I used to be tall.  When she opened her eyes again, she glanced around the room.  “So.  As simple you think it might be, we do need to figure out what’s killing people,” she said, taking another bite of her meal.  “We’re part of it now, and we’re stuck until we figure it out.

“And how do we do that?”

Levy smirked, twirling their key around her finger.  “We shack up here until the screaming starts.”

[ernmark]

Can I please have a vixen Peter sequel

Can I just say?

I love that we’re well into the seventh part of this particular series, and all this time the unwritten part is always referred to as the “Vixen Peter Sequel”.

I actually thought of a plot point at work a little while back, and I mentioned it to a coworker. To which she goes “oh, you’re writing this story now? What is it called?”

“Uh….” And honestly, I have no idea. Because all this time, I’ve always been calling it “Vixen Peter”.

Gonna need to come up with a better title before it goes up on AO3…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

I’ve had some pretty bad hangovers, but they’ve been nothing like this. I squint against the light that hits my eyes, but it doesn’t hurt like it usually does. My vision is swimming– usually that stops by the time I pass out– and I usually don’t get as nauseous as I am right now.

The ceiling over my head is too close, all neutral tones painted over riveted alloy plates. 

This isn’t any bar I’ve ever been to, and it isn’t my apartment or my office. And I… I distinctly remember drinking at home. A bottle of bottom-shelf rotgut I had stashed under the sink. And sure, it tasted kind of funny, but that comes with the territory of “bottom-shelf rotgut I had stashed under the sink”.

But it wasn’t just that, was it?

I try to sit up, and my vision sloshes again. My thoughts are slow, but I can rub enough brain cells together to draw a conclusion: I’ve been drugged. 

I’m too busy trying to figure out which way is up to notice the other person sharing the cramped berth with me until he speaks. “Oh, good. You’re awake. I was starting to worry.”

Peter.

I whirl to face him, and it feels like the inside of my head decided to keep spinning without me. I think I’m gonna throw up, but I manage a glare. “Where– where the hell am I?”

He looks down at a tablet in his hand. “We are… passing through the Solar asteroid belt at the moment, from the looks of things.”

“The as–” Oh god. I’m on a spaceship. “How the hell did I get here?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Peter admits. “You’re heavier than you look, Juno, but I can be quite resourceful when I need to be.” 

It’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one, but it tells me enough. “You kidnapped me.” Which means… “You drugged and kidnapped me.” 

“I rescued you,” he says, like this whole goddamn thing is just a matter of semantics. “I take it you’ve never read A Tale of Two Cities?”

“What?” 

He waves me off. “Never mind, it’s ancient literature. These journeys get rather dull if you don’t bring reading material.”

Right now I have half a mind to slug him, but I’m pretty sure I’d miss. “We’re getting off the topic that you drugged and kidnapped me.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he says– no, whines. He abducted me, and he’s got the nerve to whine about it. “The police were closing in. If I waited much longer, they would have caught you. I wasn’t about to let you rot in prison.” 

“Are you serious?” I’m practically shrieking. “Fleeing the planet just makes me look guilty!”

“But you are guilty,” he points out.

“That was entrapment and you know it.”

“That’s what I said, but the officers didn’t seem to care. In fact, they didn’t seem particularly interested in whether you were actually involved at all.” He sniffs indignantly. “I can see why you quit the force. You’re in better company without them.”

“I didn’t quit,” I mutter under my breath, but my mind is elsewhere, and I’m still too foggy to multitask. “If you actually wanted to help me, you wouldn’t have drugged me to do it.” 

“You were fairly clear about not wanting to see me again. I didn’t think you’d actually listen if I tried to reason with you. You might have turned yourself in, just to spite me.”

I huff. “Come on. Like I’m that petty.” I am, and I know it. And judging by the look Peter gives me, so does he. “Why do you give a damn what happens to me, anyway? I’m nothing but your fall guy, aren’t I? That’s all I ever was to you.”

His expression softens. “Oh, Juno…” And he reaches for me.

And that’s the last straw, more than the drugging or the kidnapping or the fact that he fucking dragged me into this mess in the first place. There’s plenty of time to be pissed about that later. But after all of that, he still thinks he can just bat those pretty eyes at me and I’ll be putty in his hands again? How goddamn pathetic does he think I am?

I slap his hand away before he can touch me. “Don’t even start. I’ve had enough of your lies.”

“Alright.” He sits back, putting more distance between the two of us. “Then turn me in, if you don’t trust me.” 

I glare, but my head is still too foggy to process it. “What?”

“Turn me in if you don’t trust me.” He’s completely calm and composed. “There’s a marshal on this ship with the authority and equipment to detain me. It isn’t as though there’s anywhere for me to run. I’m at your mercy, Juno. Do with me what you like.”

I swallow. There are a few dozen things I’d like to do to Peter, and handing him over to the authorities is pretty low on that list. I’m pretty sure Peter knows that.

Lacking a snappy comeback, I drag himself out of the berth and stomp away. Peter doesn’t try to follow me.

I wander the public halls of the ship, feeling lost on more than a few levels. This is all actually kind of new to me, beyond the drugged-and-kidnapped bit. I’ve  never been on a spaceship before. I mean, I’ve considered buying a ticket and leaving Mars for good, but I could never quite justify it in my head. Where would I go? Why would it be any better out there than in Hyperion City?

Technically now I have the chance to find out. It’s either that or go back and spend the rest of my life in prison over a grudge and a misunderstanding. It might not be all that bad, going out into the great big world and seeing it all firsthand. Maybe Peter might be able to recommend a few good places to start–

“Not going to happen,” I say aloud, and immediately I get shushed by the occupant of a nearby berth with its hatch still open. Frustrated, I keep moving. 

Peter’s a criminal. The last thing I need is to get even more involved with the likes of him. Shady morals aside, that’s a fast track to getting stabbed in the back.

But Peter tried to plead my case to the police, didn’t he? Why the hell would he risk talking to the cops when they’re actively investigating him? Or did he do that at all? Did he make it all up? And if he did, how did he know about how much the cops hate me? It’s not the kind of thing I ever told him myself, after all. 

Dammit, I want to trust Peter. More than anything. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

I keep walking.

It’s hard to keep track of the exact layout of the ship, but I try anyway. Most of its mass is taken up by passenger berths, some of them large enough to accommodate couples, like the one I woke up in, while others are only meant for a single occupant. They’re not big– long enough to lay down in, tall enough to sit up, and not much more than that. There are larger, more luxurious suites cordoned off to one side of the ship (the back, maybe? It’s hard to be sure), kept separate from the other spaces by a little public area that’s probably meant to resemble a park. At least, it’s painted green and there are a few potted ficuses scattered around. The park is mostly there to let passengers stretch their legs; most of the several-day trip is meant to be spent sleeping or reading or watching the in-flight entertainment.

Which would be fine if I wasn’t trying to avoid my bunkmate. 

I can only make so many laps around the ship before I take a wrong turn and wind up in front of the berth I woke up in. Peter’s still inside, reading something off a tablet and sprawled across the small space in a pose that shouldn’t be nearly so sexy. 

He looks up with a bright-eyed smile that has quite literally brought me to my knees. 

“Ah, Juno,” he says warmly. “Did you enjoy your walk?” He glances over my shoulder. “I see that the marshal hasn’t come for me yet.”

“Not yet they haven’t,” I mutter under my breath. 

But Peter just beams at me. “I take it you aren’t planning to turn me in, then?”

“Maybe I’m still making up my mind.” 

Peter’s smile turns indulgent. “Come now. You won’t be stuck on this spaceship forever, Juno. Once we dock on Europa, you’re free to go anywhere you like. To the Outer Rim, back to Mars– or perhaps somewhere else entirely.”

I keep my mouth clamped shut. Nevermind that I was just thinking the same thing. It’s not going to happen. 

It doesn’t help things in the slightest when Peter puts down the tablet and comes crawling toward me on hands and knees in the narrow berth. It paints a picture that I really, really didn’t need in my head.

“We could go together, you and I. We can sell the loot and live a life of thrills and decadence across the galaxy, always running, never looking back. We could have quite a time together, Juno. Who knows what kind of trouble we could cause?”

I almost bite through my lip trying to remind myself that I’m not interested. Because it does sound like an adventure. Like everything I could possibly want. Only I’m not supposed to want something like that with someone like him. 

“I should turn you in.”

“And yet you haven’t.”

No, I haven’t. And I already know I’m not going to.

I turn around and walk away.

It’s been hours.

My comms isn’t good for much right about now, but at least the clock still works. Unfortunately, all it’s showing is how very slow time can move. 

I won’t go back to the berth– not when Peter’s still in there– so instead I walk laps around the ship. Just endless walking, round and round and round.

No wonder I never hear much about space travel. It’s really boring. 

When my legs get tired and my feet hurt, I slump down in the park and checks my comms again.

Six hours down. Just… sixty-two left to go.

Goddammit.

A shape steps between me and the nearest shrubbery. “Have you been enjoying your new exercise routine?” Peter asks.

Not this again. “Go away.” 

Peter just crouches beside me. “You can’t keep avoiding me forever, you know.”

“Doesn’t have to be forever. We’ll be docking in a few days. I can hold out that long.”

“Can you?” He sounds concerned. “The body needs sleep, Juno. And the flight attendants aren’t about to let you nap out here.” 

‘The body needs sleep’? Sounds like a challenge. “Watch me.”

“Then take the berth now. I’ll wait out here if you want; you can lock it from the inside. All I ask is that you talk to me.” 

I’m about to point out that we’re talking right now, but that might just invite more of a conversation. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“You–” He stops himself abruptly. When he continues, his voice is lower. “No, you don’t.” 

It’s about goddamn time he figured that out. “You lied to me, you used me, you drugged me, you kidnapped me, you let me think–” I clamp my mouth shut before I say something I’d regret. He let me think he could love me. “There is absolutely no reason why I should want you in my life.” 

I throw myself off the bench and stumble to my feet. My legs feel like jelly and I stagger, but I keep marching because I can’t take this anymore. I’ve just had too much. It needs to stop now.

“Then what do you want, Juno?” Peter calls after me.

“I should–”

“I’m not asking you what you should do or think or feel. I’m asking you what you want.” 

I don’t turn to face him. I can’t, because he’ll see it in my eyes.

I want to be his. I don’t care if that means being his muscle or his fall guy or his side piece or whatever. I want him, and I hate myself for it.

“I…” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’d really like to lay down right now.” 

“Alright, Juno.” His voice is soft. “I hope you sleep well.” 

I don’t need help finding the berth– not after all the times I’ve rerouted my pacing to avoid it. After all that marching, it feels amazing just to lie down. 

I pull the hatch door shut after me. There’s a lock on the inside, just like he said. I can lock him out and avoid him for the rest of this trip.

I leave the door ajar.  

I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved when I wake up alone.