#and then i will gag and spit it out all over them and squawk at them about how i almost just died

[kaurwreck]

Have you ever thought of reading orv? It seems to be something right up your alley

I've heard of it, but I haven't considered reading it; my tastes in contemporary fiction are inane but immutably monopolized by a narrow selection of historical fantasy subgenres + self-published gothic romance novels/novellas that offend my sensibilities and outright violate my boundaries.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 45

Joyous Walpurgisnacht: Part III

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: are we weady?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Thor’s large hands drag along your shoulders as he tugs down the straps of your dress. Fear courses through your veins as your head pulses from impact. You blink, trying to see through the dark as his broad figure blocks out any light. You quiver, hands clumsily moving over the dirt, flailing as you throw them up against his stomach.

“St-op,” you choke out, head lolling as you try to shake off the vertigo, “ple-ease.”

“Shh, little maid, it’ll be over soon,” he coaxes as he traces the edge of your bodice, “isn’t that how it goes, eh? You do the dirty work with a smile on your face.” He grabs your chin, his hand cupping the lower half of your face, “give me a smile, little maid.”

You babble as your lashes flutter. Your eyes well with tears as you tell yourself it isn’t real. It can’t be. 

“Aw,” leans over you, “are you going to cry for me? How cute.”

“Please…” you wilt.

“Mm, yes, you can beg,” he snarls, “eh, little maid, if my brother won’t put you in your place, I’ll be more than happy to do his duty. As always,” he sits up again, gruffly shoving your head to the side. Your tears flow over as you quake with sobs.

You grasp at his shirt desperately, trying to shove him off, trying to wriggle free from between his thick thighs.

“You must remember where you belong,” he spits, “in the dirt.” He covers your face with his hand and pushes your head into the ground. You whimper and swing your arm out desperately.

He trails his finger down to your bodice again, jolting you as he yanks, the zipper popping as the fabric slackens. The dress droops down your torso and he pushes it to crumple around your waist. You murmur and cover yourself with your arms.

He hisses and grabs your wrists, once more pinning them beside your head. He bends over you, sliding down your body. He holds himself above you, nuzzling along your neck as you quake. He nips at your neck, pinching meanly as you cry out.

“Please, please, please,” you whisper, “please, why…”

“There once was a little maid,” he snarls and bites you again, “bid to work upon her knees,” his teeth tear at you, “but she would not obey…” his beard tickles along your chest and he sinks his teeth around the swell of your breast. 

You squeak and spasm at the pain. He only squeezes harder and harder, until you feel the flesh break. He unlatches from your flesh and growls, “and as her master would not remind her, it was up to his brother to discipline the errant maid.”

You choke on your sobs, nearly gagging with horror as he swirls his tongue around your nipple. He lets go of your wrists, one hand locking on your throat as the other creeps down your side. He lifts himself, moving his knees between your legs. He splays you wide as he pulls your skirt higher and higher.

You hear a screech. Is it you!? No, it can’t be, you can’t breathe. He squeezes until your head pounds. You beat on his shoulders weakly, heels bouncing off the ground. His hand grazes along your thigh and his fingers flick along the front of your panties.

Another horrid squawk, echoing all around. Then again, and again, and again. Like some distorted horn. There’s a flapping up in the branches and twigs snap in the grass. You close your eyes as you surrender. You can’t fight him. He’s too strong. 

You deserve this. You are just the upstart maid. Laufeyson could never want any more of you than this. It hardly matters that it isn’t him. It’s all you’re good for.

Thor’s fingers dip beneath the thin fabric and scratch between your folds. You whimper and cough. He presses against your entrance gruffly and your insides clench. He prods at you then suddenly, all once, he rips his hand away, his weight collapsing onto you.

He grunts as he’s shoved off of you. A tall shadow kicks his ribs, over and over, several times. Thor rolls onto his back, catches the foot aimed at his middle and wrenches the man off kilter. You hack and huff as suck in air through your burning throat.

You push yourself up on one elbow, watching as the bodies tangle in each other, their grunts and groans interspersed with the sounds of violence. The moonlight leaks in between the branches above and a shadow flits across, a wide wingspan soaring over you.

You look up as Fossegrim dives down and sweeps back up with a mighty squawk, ‘lady’.

You squint at the chaos. Loki’s black hair hangs down as he hurls a fist down at his brother. Suddenly, he’s knocked onto his back and Thor rolls over him, laying a punch into his stomach. Loki puffs and moans, throwing an elbow down helplessly. The blond lands another blow, a mulching crack curdling the air.

You bend your legs, getting your feet under you. Your blood flows hot and your body tingles. Your vision is doubled, further skewed by the dim. You search around as Fossegrim plunges again, snapping at Thor’s golden strands.

You stagger around, your eyes falling to a thick branch across the ground. You bend, nearly falling onto your face, and grip the rough bark. You hear the men fighting still. Growls and sneers and horrid thuds.

“Animal…” Loki bites out.

You turn, the branch dragging heavily in the dirt as you drag it. Thor sits back, just as he did over you. He raises an arm and you lift the branch. You swing it before he can do the same, putting all your weight into the effort. You spin as you bring it down on his back, letting go as it makes contact and slipping down to your knees.

You fall onto your hands, disoriented as blood clogs your nose. Thor’s shadow rises over you and you look up, blinking as the moon outlines his silhouette. Loki pants as he lays in the dirt.

“Thor…” He says, “don’t–”

“Enough, brother,” Thor stomps his stomach, making him wheeze. He steps over his brother as he faces you, “I didn’t know you liked to watch but I don’t mind an audience.”

Thor lumbers towards you, wiping his face as he snickers. He stands over you as you cower, slipping onto your ass as you raise a hand over you. He grunts and staggers, a pathetic squeak rising from his throat as he cups the front of his pants.

You see Loki’s fist unhook from between his brother’s legs as the large man falters and drops to his knees. You move out of the way as he plants his hand and heaves. You kick him, as hard as you can and he falls to his side.

“That is low, brother,” he rasps.

“Don’t speak to me… of low,” Loki stands unsteadily, “if you have any semblance of a brain, you will stand down.”

Thor laughs and tilts his face up, “why would I–”

Loki doesn’t wait for him to finish his taunt. He lifts his foot and brings it across Thor’s cheek, knocking him onto his shoulder. He kicks him again and again. As he goes for a fourth, you crawl to him and touch the leg of his stained pants.

“Please… no more,” you beg as you look over at Thor’s unmoving figure.

Loki puts his foot on the ground as he peers down at you. He turns and bends his knees, squatting before you as he pulls your dress straight, fixing the straps through the fabric hangs loose. He grips your shoulders as he watches you, his face shrouded in the darkness.

He scoops you up without a word. As he stands, Fossegrim flies down and lands on his shoulder. Still, Loki does not speak. He only carries you through the trees, his heartbeat thumping beneath his shallow breaths. You lean your head against him, the last of your strength whittled away.

He doesn’t take you towards the noise of the party. He keeps to the pathways and the trails, following the far edge of the stone wall and up around the front of the house, well away from the lights that shine on the festivities. He does not miss a step as he carries you through the front door and up the staircase, not stopping until there’s a closed door at his back.

This isn’t your room. You’ve never been here. It must be his. He lays you down on the bed as the bird flutters off his shoulder, landing on the high post of the bed. You look up at the blue splotch of feathers bobbing above you.

You feel your energy slake away as the adrenaline seeps out. You stare up at the ceiling as you sense his movement all around you. The open and closes of drawers and doors, the steady, unshakeable pacing of leather soles. 

Then at once, he’s standing over you, a trickle of dried blood from his brow to his chin. His cheek is swelling and discoloured and his hair mussed and dusted with dirt. He sits on the edge of the bed and dotes on you with a cool, stinging swap. You moan as your nose throbs, your entire skull thrumming at his touch.

He works methodically before he disappears again. Time ripples as if everything around you is submerged in water. He returns and slides open the window next to the bed. He shoos the bird and it leaves with a shrill squawk. He sighs and lifts you from the mattress.

Your head droops back over his arm as he carries you from the room. The descent has your head swirling and you close your eyes. You quiver as you smell the stench of dirt and grass on his stained clothing. You feel as if you’re being smothered again. You reach to touch the front of his shirt. He’s there, you’re okay. You clutch the fabric as he brings you out the front door into the cool night.

You open your eyes at the glare of light. There’s a black car waiting, a glowing sign mounted on top. A taxi. He eases you into the seat and buckles you in before rounding to the other side. The car shifts as he gets in and bids the driver to a hospital.

You slump against the door, lights gleaming in your vision. You watch the colours streak by, arms limp as you let the world spin around you. 

You feel a warmth on your hand and your arm is dragged across the seat. Your head lolls as you glance over at Loki. He clasps your hand tight, his jaw locked as he stares ahead.

“I’m okay,” you say groggily.

“We will make sure of it,” he says, squeezing your hand.

“And you too,” you reply. 

He looks at you, “me?”

“You’re hurt…” you murmur, “you…”

He hushes you, “it’s fine, we will see a doctor and sort it out after.”

You nod and let your eyes close. When you open them again, the taxi is still. You let Loki take over. He guides you from the car into the bright lights of the hospital. He sits you down in a plastic chair after you see a woman in blue scrubs. He pulls you against him, an arm draped over your shoulders.

“Ugh,” he leans his head back, “too much whiskey.”

You nestle into him, tired but wide awake. Your head splits and your nose pulses, but neither hurt as bad as your heart. A doctor can fix the damage Thor’s done, but can you heal what the wounds left by the man beside you?

The clock ticks on. You watch others come and go from the blindingly white room. Your name is called and Loki helps you to your feet. He walks you through the automatic doors and down the wide hallways. You enter a room and he lifts you to sit on the bed with the paper sheet.

He lets you go, biding his time as he browses the posters on the wall. You stare at your twiddling fingers as you wait. A doctor appears, he introduces himself as Dr. Ghent, and checks your nose. He doesn’t ask how it happened.

“Ow,” you hiss as he applies a plaster to your nose.

“It’s broken,” he says.

“Be gentle,” Loki crosses his arms as he approaches.

“Mm,” the doctor hums curtly, “if I didn’t recognise you, I might file a report with the PD.”

Loki frowns, “hiking accident, hardly worth the paper.”

The doctor doesn’t look convinced as he continues his work, a hard splint along the bridge of your nose. He takes you through a few tests with a light and listens to your heart. He rubs his forehead.

“Concussed,” he declares, “you will need to take it easy. Both of you appear to need it.”

You mutter and hug yourself. The doctor faces Loki and puts his hands on his hips, “your turn.”

“Pardon?” Loki squints, wincing as his left eye is nearly swollen shut.

“Let me stitch your brow, at least,” the doctor insists, “and I won’t mention the smell of rye reeking off of you.”

Loki sighs but lets the doctor tend to him. You watch, noticing how Loki’s hand shakes at his side. His knuckles are bruised and scraped. His tailored white attire is streaked in green and brown and red. He’s a mess. As much of one as you’ve ever witnessed.

You look down at yourself. Your dress is in a similar state, barely held up by the loose straps, the skirt shorn by the thorns and thickets, burrs caught in the mulched flowers. Your legs are scratched from your foray into the wilderness, your arms too.

“Might I suggest you don’t hike with a bottle of whiskey?” Dr. Ghent rebukes as he washes his hands.

“Oh, you will not see us again,” Loki promises as he approaches you, holding out a hand. “Come.”

You accept and let him help you down. He takes you from the room, striding down the halls but not too quick for you. As you get to the front doors, he stops and looks up at the moonlight.

“We will sleep at a hotel,” he says, “and in the morning, we are gone.”

[copias-thrall]

@makeupmonsters​

He came in by the open window again (and maybe that’s why you left it open, but: shh), hands scrabbling for purchase before he hefted his skinny, noodle body by increments into your bedroom. It took him what felt like 10min, during which you’d only continued painting your toenails.

After heaving himself in, he sits at the foot of your sill, panting.

“No, no,” he wheezes, “I’m all right. No need to get up.”

“K,” you say as you spread your toes, assessing the paint job.

“Bitch. I’m gonna dick you down so good.”

You turn to him. “I can see that”

He gives you the finger. 

There’s a glass of water on your night table, and you pass it over to him; Mary drinks it down in big, greedy gulps—1/3 of it spilling out the side of his mouth and dribbling down his neck to stain the collar of his tee. He hands it back to you, empty, as he wipes off his chin with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” he says.

You shrug. “You better be sweating it out over me soon.”

He smiles with too much teeth. “That can be arranged.”

Soon enough he’s on you—and you can only hope your toe polish is dry enough—with too much tongue and all of his weight pressing into you. He’d taken off his studded, denim vest—but his belts still jab into you, so you squirm out from under him and onto your side.

“Fuck,” he says as he slobbers onto the side of your cheek, “I can’t wait to feel you around me. I’m gonna get you all dirty.”

You’re pretty sure he means in a sexy way, but with his hygiene, he could also mean literal dirt and fleas. You try not to think about it, instead wiggling around so that you’re grinding your ass against his erection.

He sucks hard on your neck as he ruts into you. “Mmm, fuck yeah. Lemme feel that sweet ass, baby.”

His hand creeps under the hem of your shirt, splaying against your stomach before it inches closer, closer to the waistband of your sleep pants. A part of you can’t wait to feel his fingers on you and to have him drawing pleasure out of you … but a bigger part can’t help but remember the dark crescents under his nails and ringing his cuticles, the dirt embedded in the whorls of his fingertips. And—as much as you want his cock—you can’t help but remember the smell between his legs that had you gagging for an entirely different reason last time.

All too soon your brain can’t help but remind you of the rumors that you’ve heard—and Mary does nothing to dissuade—of what he gets up to in graveyards.

Suddenly you’re jumping off the bed, away from his touch; his hands are still positioned as if he were still holding you, and the bulge in his jeans is obscene. He looks up at you, startled.

“What? Did I hurt you?”

“I just um,” you stutter as you edge toward the door, “I just need a second.”

You see his brows furrow, his mouth almost forming a word, before you’re fumbling with your doorknob and hightailing it to the bathroom. Once there, you sit on the toilet seat with your head in your hands. The throb between your legs is insistent—but you can’t unknow your thoughts on Mary’s … grime. He’s only a little selfish as a lover—better than you’d initially given him credit for the first night you’d taken him home in a tipsy haze—so you really were looking forward to the dicking down he was going to give you.

But … you’re sober now and: gross.

If only he … . And just like that, you have an idea.

It takes longer than you expected—and honestly you’re half certain Mary probably got bored and left—but when you shimmy back into your room in nothing but your robe, Mary’s still sprawled on your bed, nails half done in the color you’d been using: jungle red.

He looks up at you with a soft Dafuq? you think is meant to convey concern.

You lower your voice to give it a “sexy” intonation. “I prepared something special for you. How ‘bout you strip and follow me, hmm?”

A vulpine smile cracks Mary’s face, and he’s all at once trying to scramble off the bed and take off his clothes as he stumbles behind you. You back into the bathroom—your hand toying with the tie at your waist—as Mary yanks off his ripped tee by the back collar and hops out of his jeans, his clothes now a treasure trail on the floor.

By the time you’ve backed yourself into the tiled wall—your robe undone and dangerously close to parting—Mary is just down to his holy, threadbare boxer briefs. He’s too fixated on the sliver of skin that you’re showing to really be too much aware of anything else in the bathroom. He leers at you—biting his plump lower lip—as his hands go for you.

Which is when—smile firmly fixed on your face—you give him a little shove. He wobbles unsteadily, a look of confusion on his face, and you give another. This time, his arms windmill out, and he grabs onto your shower curtain to right himself … but you’re already right there, giving a jab to his chest. Pulling half the curtain off it’s hooks with a plink plink plink, the back of Mary’s knees hit the lip of the tub, and he goes splashing into the hot, soapy water filling it.

A tidal wave sloshes over the side, splatting on the floor and bathmat, as Mary lets out an ungainly GAH before the receding oceans close back up over him. Even though you’re now fully exposed, you can’t help but cackle at Mary’s situation: he’s half sprawled in the tub, his legs sticking up and out, as his half-wet hair sticks to his face, soapy rivulets dripping down his cheeks. He’s eyes flash with murderous intent … but honestly he just looks like a wet, angry cat.

“What. The. Fuck,” he spits as his hands slip slide against the bottom of the tub for purchase.

You grab his scrawny ankles and chuck them into the bathwater, sock and all, even as he squawks in protest.

“Your dick is good, Goore—but you’re not sticking anything anywhere until I’m sure you’re squeaky clean of whatever the fuck it is you get into.”

“Fuck you, get off,” he bitches as he trashes about, water going everywhere.

You grab a loofa you’d had the forethought to soap up, and start scrubbing—behind his ears as well as his neck and shoulders.

“Fuck, all right—Jesus,” he whines as he squirms away from you. “Lemme fucking do it.” He yanks the loofa away from you, never breaking his glare at you as he begins to scrub himself down. At this point his hair is wet, limp against the sides of his skull and his forehead. The remnants of his makeup are the black ring around his eyes and the white cake sticking to his hairline.

“Don’t forget—” you start as you point to his face, and he snarls at you.

“Bitch, I’m getting to it. Fuck off.”

Settling onto the toilet seat, you draw your robe back together.

Mary’s eyes follow you. “Aw, c’mon!” he whines.

You put your bare foot up on the tub lip, curling your toes over it.

“Be a good boy and clean your ass, and I’ll take the robe off.”

Mary scowls at you and crosses his arms.

“You’re an awful lotta work for a casual lay.”

You shrug unaffectedly, even though your heart is thumping.

“Then go fuck someone else. I’m not stopping you.”

You put on an air of nonchalance that you don’t feel as you as Mary stare at each other. Finally, he lets out a huff and a “whatever,” before he’s peeling off his boxers. He throws them out of the tub, and they hit the wall with a splat before they slide down to the floor in a sloshy mound.

Mary cleans himself almost shyly, and you close your eyes as you rest your head against the side of your sink. There’s some splashing around, and then he says, almost quietly,

“Ok, I’m done.”

You open your eyes and look at him, pale and naked in the now-scummy water. He’s still glaring at you, but the intensity has dimmed somewhat as he crosses his arms in front of himself. Smiling, you untie your robe, letting it pool at your feet before you remember the puddle of water. Mary’s eyes laser onto your naked skin before you’re stepping into the water.

“Um—”

“Shh,” you say, putting a finger to his lips before flicking the drain lever open with your toe. You reach past his sitting form as your fumble to turn on the shower.

“What the f—” he sputters, but you’re pulling him up and drawing him into a kiss. As the spray sputters from cold to hot over you two, you reach down to grab at Mary’s ass, bringing him flush with you.

“Yeah, ok,” he mumbles into your mouth.

Twining your fingers into the wet mess of his flat hair, you say, “If we’re only going to get dirty again, I think we should stay here.” Your hand slides to wrap around his half-hard dick, and he moans, quickly reaching down to touch you. Even as the two of you pet at each other, your one hand reaches up to grab his jaw so that he meets your eyes.

“You may be dicking me, Goore—but I’m the one in charge. And next time I expect you to be clean, or I’ll peel those digits off before you get halfway through my window. Got it?”

He swallows hard—adam’s apple bobbing—before giving you a short, curt nod, his eyes blown wide.

“Good. Now, let’s get filthy.”

[the-water-nixie]

Fic: Bundle

I somehow managed to finish a (short) fic for the first time in years. 

Read on AO3.

Happy Birthday, Lan Xichen! 

It is not a grand revelation which brings Lan Xichen out of his self-imposed seclusion. His grief does not dry up overnight, nor does his guilt stop eating at him like flies on too-ripe fruit. All of those things remain, and he still continues to feel lessened and unworthy of his place, of his titles.

As it turns out, what brings Lan Xichen out of seclusion is a child.

It is still early when he hears heavy footfalls outside. He ignores them at first and stares blankly into his tea. He hasn’t been tasting it, not really, everything has been consumed perfunctorily and only because he promised Wangji he would look after himself—it is the very same promise he had procured from Wangji during his own seclusion, when he was being eaten by his own guilt and grief. He cannot ignore, however, the rapid-fire knocks against the door or the call of his own name. He sighs.

“Zewu-jun! I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to bother you. Lan Zhan said not to, but it’s an emergency.”

The word emergency sets him on his feet. Images of his own father refusing to leave his seclusion while the Cloud Recesses burned around him flash through Xichen’s mind. He opens the door to find Wei Wuxian about to knock a second time. The sheepish expression that paints his face is relieving; there is obviously no true emergency. As Xichen studies him before permitting his entrance, Wei Wuxian shifts around nervously on the porch and readjusts the bundle of blankets he has nestled in his arms. 

Xichen raises an eyebrow in question.

“Lan Zhan is away with the junior disciples and normally I would go with them, but I was away doing a thing with Jin Ling and I got back later than I was expecting and—anyway. I need a second pair of hands, you know? Because, it’s a bit complicated. I mean, more complicated than anything I’ve dealt with before. And with Lan Zhan gone, and the kids… Well, there is no one left here who likes me besides the baby Lan disciples. And I think their hands are probably too small to help.”

Wei Wuxian punctuates his spiel with a self-conscious laugh and rubs a finger over his nose. “Not that you, uh, like me. But I thought you might still help.”

His words break Xichen’s resolve to send him away to find help elsewhere. He wonders how Wangji would feel, knowing his husband considers himself so wholly disliked in the place where they make their home. He knows his brother, and he would likely pack up and leave the Cloud Recesses with his husband in tow. No ones wants that, least of all Xichen.

“I like you just fine, Wei-gongzi,” he says, and he finds nothing but truth in his statement. He steps to the side, allowing his brother-in-law entrance to his home.

Before he can close the door behind them, a golden Jin messenger butterfly flutters inside and up to Wei Wuxian. A lump lodges itself in Xichen’s throat. That is not something he had expected to see in the Cloud Recesses again, nor had he wanted to.

Wei Wuxian smiles and it looks like an apology. “Oh, there’s Jin Ling now,” he says. He  struggles with the bundle in his arms, looking from the butterfly to the bundle and back again. The butterfly is getting insistent, fluttering against Wei Wuxian’s face. “These stupid butterflies,” he mutters. “They’ll bash themselves into the side of your head until you acknowledge the damn things.” He looks down at the bundle again and then nods decisively. “Um, here.” And he leans forward and hands off the bundle to Xichen.

Xichen nearly drops it in shock. The blankets part and a tiny face pokes out. It coos up at him and blows a spit bubble. “Wei-gongzi! This is—This is a child.”

Wei Wuxian ignores his panic. “Ah, that Jin Ling. Always pretends to be so tough but he’s already checking on me to see if I got back all right. So much like Jiang Cheng. Is that a case of nature or nurture, do you think? Like say with Sizhui—he’s so polite and kind and thoughtful. Would he have always been that way, or did he turn out so great because he was raised by Lan Zhan? And you as well, Zewu-jun. He told me he spent a lot of time with you as a child.”

Wei Wuxian smiles at him.

“Wei-gongzi!”

“Hmm?”

Xichen lifts the baby minutely and widens his eyes. “This child?”

“Oh, right. She’s mine! I gave birth to her.” He laughs at his own joke but his laughter peters off quickly at Xichen’s narrowed eyes. “Aiya, you didn’t fall for that like Lan Zhan, huh? Fine, fine. Well, I kind of found her? We were interviewing the locals about a nearby haunting and she was living with a midwife there. Poor thing—both parents dead. Her father died before she was born and then her mother giving birth to her. The midwife was struggling, what with her own duties and children. And I thought, Lan Zhan loves babies. He should have as many babies as he wants, you know? So I said I would take her. Once I told the midwife my husband is Hanguang-jun she practically threw the baby at me. If I was even more shameless than I am I would namedrop Hanguang-jun far more often. People give me so much free stuff. Wine and food and little trinkets—”

“And babies?”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breathless laugh like it surprises him. “Ah, Zewu-jun. You and Lan Zhan are both so funny. Who knew Lans could be so funny?”

Xichen ignores him to focus on the problem at hand. In his hands. Currently. He should probably give it back to Wei Wuxian because it’s starting to wriggle and squawk at him. He knows nothing about babies. How is he meant to help? Even the smallest disciples with their tiny hands would be better than him. “What about a wet nurse? You can’t just bring her here without…”

“Oh, she can eat solid food. Also, milk. So, um, we have a goat now.” He looks sheepish again. “Apparently I am determined to populate the Cloud Recesses with all sorts of animals. Haha, but look, she has some itty little teeth.”

He pulls the child from the blanket swaddle and lifts her so she is facing Xichen. She stops her irritated squawks and stares at him, mouth open and big, dark eyes blinking slowly. And then she smiles. She is the most adorable thing Xichen has seen since he was presented with his own tiny brother. “Cute, right?” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan is going to melt into a sappy puddle of goo.”

Melting into a puddle a goo is exactly what Xichen feels as though he himself is doing. He reaches out to take the child again. Wei Wuxian had said he needed an extra pair of hands after all. “Let me. You must be tired from carrying her all this way.”

The smile Wei Wuxian gives him is pleased. He places the baby in Xichen’s arms and then wipes the drool from her mouth with one of the blankets. Inside her mouth Xichen can see that she does in fact have several tiny teeth. They bite into the fabric of the blanket and she grumbles. It almost sounds like a kitten’s growls. “Be careful with your fingers near her mouth. The midwife said she’s teething. She bites.”

“Oh dear,” Xichen says. Is it normal for babies to bite? Is there something wrong with this one?

“Aiya, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian says. He waves his hand in the air. “Her little teeth aren’t so sharp.” As if that clears everything up. “And as soon as Lan Zhan gets here, he will make her stop. They all just listen to what he says the first time he tells them.”

Xichen is amused and gratified by Wei Wuxian’s faith in Wangji’s abilities, but even Wangji has never dealt with so small a child. Babies probably don’t follow rules.

The baby grumbles and starts smacking one tiny fist against Xichen’s shoulder.

“Okay, you’re hungry again, I get it,” Wei Wuxian tells her. “No need to clobber your poor bobo. He’s only just met you, give him a better first impression.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head at the baby. He looks up at Xichen and sighs mournfully. “She eats all the time,” he says. “And barely ever sleeps. Barely ever.”

Then he plops himself down at the low table and begins removing a multitude of small dishes from the bag he has slung over his shoulder.

Bobo. Even Lan Sizhui had rarely called him by the name when he was small. But every time he had, Xichen had felt a spark of warmth in his chest. He had always wished Sizhui had been comfortable enough to continue with the title. But alas, once he had started training with the other disciples he had stopped calling Xichen bobo altogether.

This time he will insist on it, he decides, looking down at his new niece as she gags herself on the corner of her blanket. He pulls it from her mouth with a cringe and she squawks at him, her brow furrowed. “Sorry little one,” he says in a quiet voice. “You are going to hurt yourself.” She blows another spit bubble.

“What’s her name?”

Wei Wuxian continues to mix food in the dishes. “She doesn’t have one yet. The midwife gave her a milk name, but she said she didn’t feel right naming her when she knew she couldn’t actually raise her. I’ll let Lan Zhan do it. He’ll pick something good.” He holds up a small bamboo spoon with a smile. “Do you want to feed her? You don’t have to—she gets the whole room messy when she eats, so I can—”

“I will do it.” Xichen sits her up in his lap and reaches for the spoon.  

She does in fact get food everywhere. Maybe Xichen should care about the indignity of a sect leader with clumps of congee drying in his hair and spit and milk on his robes, but he can’t seem to stop smiling.

Wei Wuxian laughs as he cleans the food from the downy hair’s of the baby’s eyebrows. “Little one, you are a mess,” he says. Her eyes blink slowly up at them. “Thank the gods, she’s getting sleepy.”

She falls asleep in Xichen’s arms. He rocks her slowly, humming a song his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He runs a hand over her soft cheeks. He can’t recall when he last felt so content, so at peace. He almost wishes Wei Wuxian would leave her here, but he knows he will soon want to head back to the jingshi and await Wangji’s return. When Xichen looks up from the baby to ask him, he finds Wei Wuxian himself fast asleep, curled up by the table and snoring quietly.

~0~

The next time Xichen sees his niece, she is with Wangji.    

“I know you have met her already, and I am sorry for disrupting your seclusion, Xiongzhang. It felt right to introduce you formally, as she is your niece.”

Xichen smiles. “You’ve chosen a name then?”

“Mm.” Wangji runs his fingertips softly over the baby’s dark hair. “Lan Xing.”

“A good name. You must have been surprised to find her with Wei-gongzi when you returned home.”

The corners of Wangji’s mouth turn up; his eyes are soft and happy. It makes Xichen’s heart glad. He must remember to thank Wei Wuxian for this and many other things.

“Wei Ying is very good at surprises,” Wangji says. He leans forward and kisses the baby on the forehead. “Would you like to hold her?”

Xichen does. They sit in the quiet for awhile, watching as she snoozes in his arms.

“Your happiness is a balm to my soul, Wangji,” Xichen says as Wangji readies himself to take his leave. And for the first time in many years, Wangji reaches out and grasps Xichen’s hand.

“You will get there, Xiongzhang. I once thought I would never— It will be better.”

Xichen squeezes his brother’s hand and thinks perhaps.

~0~

A week later Wei Wuxian comes back to see Xichen with little Lan Xing is tow. His entire countenance screams desperation.

“Do you think you could maybe watch her? Just for an hour. Well, let’s say two or three hours. At least.” He holds the baby out towards Xichen. “If I don’t spend some alone time with Lan Zhan I’m going to kill myself.”

Xichen takes the baby. She giggles and immediately starts babbling and gnawing on her fist.

“Don’t tell Lan Zhan I said that. Gods, I should know better than to make that joke. It makes him so upset.” Wei Wuxian scrubs a hand over his face and forces a laugh. “Who knew orgasms were the only thing keeping me sane? Too bad I didn’t figure that out in my last life, right? Hahaha, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

Xichen decides he should probably save his poor brother-in-law from himself. “Wei-gongzi, it’s fine. Please go spend some time with Wangji. I will watch A-Xing.”

Wei Wuxian falls all over himself thanking him, then bows deeply and books it out of the door. “No running in Cloud Recesses.” Xichen calls after him in a teasing voice.

He props the baby up on his arm and walks her around the room. “And what should we get up to, little one?” he asks. He receives a gurgle in response.

What Xichen finds is that little A-Xing, more than anything, enjoys simply being spoken to, regardless of the subject matter. He goes through half a volume of poetry and recites hundreds of Lan Clan disciplines (the ones he finds most important, though he would never tell his uncle that he considers some rules more important than others). She is even happy when he threatens to add a new discipline to the wall in her honour (thou shalt not bite bobo).

When she finally falls asleep after a meal of mashed vegetables and rice, Xichen realizes he hasn’t had a single negative thought since Wei Wuxian brought her to him. He rests his eyes, her small, warm body against his chest, the two of them breathing in tandem.

Wangji comes to retrieve his daughter after several hours. The tips of his ears are flushed and there is an angry red mark under his jaw that looks vaguely mouth-shaped.

“Apologies, Xiongzhang,” he says. “Wei Ying should not have disrupted your seclusion. He won’t do it again.”

“Wangji, I—” He looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms. “I really don’t mind. I find it peaceful, having her here.”

Wangji watches him for a moment. “Do you want me to bring her more often?”

Xichen turns the idea over in his head, and finds it pleasing rather than stressful. “If it wouldn’t be any trouble for you. I don’t wish to keep her from you.”

“I have meetings every morning while Wei Ying teaches basic talismans to the novices. Would that be too often?”

Xichen feels a wide smile break across his face at the prospect of a daily visit. For the first time since he returned from Yunping, it doesn’t cause him even the slightest pain.

~0~

Five months go by like this, A-XIng being left by Wangji or Wei Wuxian every morning, a few hours that brighten all of Xichen’s days. She grows in front of his eyes, begins to scoot around the hanshi on her bottom and destroy anything he isn’t quick enough to remove from her ever-widening reach. Xichen holds her hands and helps her practise walking until his back aches from stooping over and he loves every minute of it.

One morning Wei Wuxian says, “She took her first steps without us holding her, right into Lan Zhan’s arms!” And Xichen feels pride, yes, but also disappointment. He wasn’t there to see. He should have been there to cheer her on. “And then,” he continues with a laugh, “she took off running right at Sizhui. We are all in so much trouble now!”

With a wish of good luck, Wei Wuxian leaves A-Xing in Xichen’s care. She is already struggling to get down from his arms.

A-Xing runs the length of the hanshi, back and forth, back and forth. And then she does it all over again. Xichen tires just watching her.

It must be a bit of a bore for her, just Xichen’s rooms instead of the world outside. She would probably much rather run in the forest or pester Wangji’s poor rabbits. Just as Xichen is contemplating taking her to the garden behind the hanshi, A-Xing bumps into the sword rack and falls on her behind.

Her lip pops out and begins to quiver—a sure sign of an impending meltdown. Xichen rushes over. “You’re fine, little one. All fine.”

“Bobo,” she says and then wails, lifting up her chubby little arms towards him.

Xichen scoops her up, staring into her watery eyes. “What did you say, Xingxing?”

A-Xing sniffles at him, her crying stopped, and then shoves her face under his chin to wipe her tears and snot on his neck.

She had said it though, there is no way he misheard. His niece had said his name. And if she had spoken a coherent word before that surely one of her fathers would have told him about it. Xichen turns to tell someone, anyone, that his baby niece just said her first word, but there is no one to tell. He is alone with A-Xing as he has been every day for months, preluded by months of no one but himself. It feels wrong, suddenly. He feels trapped, smothered, impotent. And he wants to bring the news to his brother himself. He wants to tell Wangji and Wei Wuxian. And Sizhui and Shufu and—

He kisses the top of A-Xing’s head and leaves the hanshi for the first time in more than a year.

As he walks through the Cloud Recesses he receives bows and smiles mixed with incredulous looks. He must appear half-crazed, thin and hollow in his plainest robes. He hadn’t even put his hair up properly—it is simply tied half back with a small ribbon, no guan to be seen. He hasn’t worn it out in public in such a way since he was still a child.

No one comments on his hair or his sudden appearance when he bursts into Wangji’s office and hurriedly closes the door on the stares he can feel at his back.

“Xichen?” Wangji stands from behind his desk.

Wei Wuxian is closer. He reaches Xichen first and looks his daughter over as if for an injury.

“She is fine,” Xichen says. “She took a little tumble, but she is unharmed. But she—she spoke.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Sometimes her noises sound like words, but nothing real yet.”

“No, she did this time. She said—” Xichen looks down at A-Xing. She has a fist full of his hair and is moments away from shoving it into her mouth. “Who am I, Xingxing?” He points to himself.

She grins and bites on his hair. Xichen tsks at her and pulls the hair from her grasp. Her brow furrows. “Bobo,” she whines, and makes another grab for his hair.

He lets her take it, barely noticing when she tugs too hard. He is too busy watching for Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s reactions.

They do not disappoint.

Wangji rushes over with a delighted smile on his face. Wei Wuxian claps his hands together. “I guess we know who your favourite is, ah, little one?”

Her favourite, Xichen thinks. At the back of his mind a voice that sounds like Shufu says, “do not be prideful.” Today, just today, Xichen decides he is going to ignore that voice. Today, for a moment, he will allow himself. Today as he is surrounded by his family. Today as his little brother smiles at him, full of what looks like relief, and leans a head against his shoulder. Today, as Xichen leans back against him.

“Bobo,” A-Xing says again, and she tries to shove her parents away.

Today he is A-Xing’s favourite.

[damfinofanfiction]

Chapter 5: Their Night Out

Goodness! I thought it was an easier chapter, but it turned into a longer one. I hope you like this!

It’s been a couple of days since Gail heard something concerning about Buster Keaton that she should never know. Gail was in her room which was meant to be for a maid. It was 11 am, she decided to get up, get dressed, and apply her dark makeup. She tried to stop thinking about Keaton, but she couldn't. Why would he betray the mother of his children, The same woman who he cast in “Our Hospitality”? Then, a thought occurred to her, what if Mayzie is lying? It is hard to believe that she would make up a fib about one of Hollywood's elite. Suddenly, her train of thought stopped when she heard knocking on a door.

“Come in,” Gail answered, brushing her hair.

Sally slowly opened the door, sending Gail two pieces of toast because she missed breakfast. She said to her housemate, “Bae it’s unlike me, but, I’m a bit worried, you aren't yourself since after we got home from the Venice café last Thursday.” She went in to sit on the edge of the bed, “What’s eating ya?”

Gail turned away from the mirror to look at her, “Sal, how much do you know Mayzie?”

Sally shook her head, “Nah, I don’t pay attention to the whole gang.”

“Do you think she would ever lie to anyone?”

She leaned on the bedpost, “I do think she might have lied about her age.”

She took a deep breath before saying, “At the party, she told me she went out with a famous actor.” Sally’s face brightens up in astonishment. Then Gail continued with “And he’s married.” Her brows, then furrowed, “What?”

“She also told me not to tell anyone.” She moved next to sally, “What do you think?”

“If she were lying, she would say he’s a bachelor.”

Gail looked down feeling disappointed, “Well, I hope that isn’t true.”

“It doesn’t matter Bae, this is Hollywood, people sleep around.”

She turned to sally, “You sleep around.”

“Yes, but not to married people!” Gail wanted to weep if it weren’t, for Sally’s presence and her freshly applied makeup, she finally took the toast and ate it “Did Mayzie tell you who it was?”

Gail responded while brushing off the crumbs from her lap, “Yes, but I cannot tell.”

“Then leave it as it is.”

Gail puts aside the half-eaten toast  and lies down, feeling aggravated, “I need to clear my head.” 

Sally lies to join Gail when she suggests, “How about we go out for the night?”

Gail was uncertain, but, she nonetheless responded with, “So long as I get you home at a reasonable time, I think it's a good plan.”

Sally suggested, “We can go dancing and then to a speakeasy”

Gail nodded in agreement, “When’ll that happen?” 

Sally responded with a blank expression, “Not if my aunt is occupied.” They realized that Lenore could get worried ill with both of them being out at night. 

Gail said to her, “If she falls busy, We’ll see if that time comes.” 

Sally held her hand, “It’s a deal.”

2 weeks later, Lenore was set to go to a friend’s house for a game of bridge, leaving the women free to go downtown. They went out of the house in their short evening dresses like flappers. Sally was dressed in red and wears her stockings rolled, unlike Gail, who left her stockings unrolled along with her black and white dress. They went by taxi for dinner and dancing. The nightclub they attended was not elite, but it was to their taste. They danced to jazz and the foxtrot. Before they exhaust themselves, they retreated to the Speakeasy by taxi.

After they are dropped off, Sally and Gail walked on the pavement until they reached the toy store. The blonde took out a tiny piece of paper from her clutch, “It’s got to be that address.” Gail detected the alley on the side of the store, “I see four trash cans lined up here”. Sally smiled, “Then this must be the Joint.” Located at the end of the alleyway, they climbed down the steps to get to the door. 

Gail clung to the rail in caution, “How secure is it?”

“The speakeasy changes passwords every week, thankfully I remained in contact with my ex Roger. I hope he’s kept out of jail.” Sally knocked on the door. A pair of eyes appeared from the peephole. “Password?”

 She replied, “Davis sent me.” 

It was opened by a man in overalls, who padded both of their bodies thoroughly to make sure neither of them had police badges.

 “Hey Jackass! Do you do this to all the patrons or just the women?” Sally squawked. 

“Quiet that’s my business!” The man yelled as he examined their clutch purses.  After inspection, he said, “You’re good to go,”

The friends were let into the room as Gail went curious when she noticed two passageways, then she was notified that one was to be discreet. They went through the main passageway to a chamber designed to look like a saloon. The Gin mill does not have a traditional clientele, as its patrons come from various races. The musician was Hispanic, while the bartender was Asian. Gail was intrigued at the diversity but remained cautious for rough drunks. They are only carousing men, hopefully not threatening. 

Sally walked to the serving area to order drinks while Gail went to find seats for them. She found a booth in an area that was somehow unoccupied except for an overweight man sitting in the back. Gail thought that guy looked very familiar, but she prefers to enjoy her evening. 

Gail raised her hand to get Sally’s attention. As she joins her on a booth, a server brought them complimentary potato chips and water. Though they were satisfied from dinner, Sally couldn’t help herself for a bite. 

Sally was elated when the drinks appeared on their table. She handled her glass saying, “Oh I miss you.” before downing her giggle water. However, Gail was nervous since she had never had real alcohol before. “How can I be careful?” Sally told her, “Drink slowly”.” As she took her first sip she tingled to the burning sensation in her mouth and then her throat. Her reaction caused her friend to laugh, which infuriated her. Sally then congratulated her, “Welcome to my world.” And after a moment, they clink their glasses together. 

Not long after, Sally nearly spits out her drink, whispered to Gail, “Bae, look behind you.” She reacted in surprise at the sight of Buster Keaton, who was shaking hands with the overweight fellow. 

Gail nearly slammed her face on the table when she said, “Of all the Gin mills in Los Angeles at this hour of the day, he has to go here.”

Confused, she said to her raven-haired friend, “I thought he was your favorite.”

“I did before I hear-,” Gail paused before she spilled the beans.

However, Sally was quick to figure out, “Oh shit. That was Buster?”

Gail covered her face rather than admitting, but eventually nodded her head.

Sally did not react as strongly as her friend did but, was still in disbelief, “That explains why you’re feeling down and out.”

Gail is so upset that she took a few sips from her drink.

Sally patted her shoulder, “It doesn't matter if that's a bunch of crap or not, don't let that get your goat, you're supposed to sit back and calm your nerves.” She gestures to Buster, “Let that Keaton fellow hang out with the fat guy.”

She raised her eyebrows as she finally identified the man, “Sal, that’s Roscoe Arbuckle!” 

Gail didn't recognize Arbuckle at first because he hasn't appeared on film for over 3 years. Before the scandal, he was a headliner in films under the nickname, “Fatty”, and he had previously worked in keystone comedies. Her first exposure to Buster was when he started his own film career working with him.

Sally went perplexed, “Huh, I forgot all about him.”

As Gail was touched upon Buster's appreciation for his friend during hard times, she concluded that perhaps something good existed in Keaton after all.

************

“How’s business treating you, pal?” Buster asked, sitting across his friend.

Arbuckle shrugged, “Better than last time. The Tuxedo Comedies had me directing another short. It’s a comedic take on John Ford’s The Iron Horse.”

Keaton lounged on his seat, “My guess is you would be working with good ol’ Al St. John.”

“You are correct Bus. Speaking of which, he asked me for a favor for you.”

Buster responded with a sure nod.

“You know that Rocket Train you used for Our hospitality, he wants to borrow the Locomotive for the short.”

Grinning, he replied, “Well, I got to use it anyway.” Later, joking, he said, "Next thing you want me to be in the movie as well?” 

They laughed at the thought, but Arbuckle would consider it. Soon, their drinks show up with Buster having told the server that both of them are for him as he is worried they would be spit on by the server.

Roscoe asked, “Enough about me, How did Seven Chances go?”

Buster tapped the table as he responded, “I've got it, I came up with the perfect gag to end the sequence.” 

Roscoe cheerfully said,  “Good for you, how will that go then?” 

Buster wiggled his finger, “Ah, You have to watch my film to find out.” 

He raised his glass slightly, “Also I would like to thank you again for including Doris in Seven Chances.” 

“No problem, chief.” 2 friends clinked their glasses together.

*****************

Gail was drinking water when she asked, “Are they still here?”

Sally looked behind and said “Yep.”

Seeing the waiter come back, Gail made a suggestion, “You know what, how about if I buy him and Mr. Arbuckle a drink?”

Sally smiled seeing her clever side, “Getting his attention? I like it” she chipped in, “Let me pay for one of them!” 

Soon after, the server brought Buster and Roscoe 2 smaller glasses of liquor. Before they had a chance to speak, the server informed them that the drinks were paid for by the ladies at the booth. Gail shyly waved as the Server pointed to her and Sally. 

Roscoe half-wittingly questioned him, “Which one of these dames you will be taking in?”

Buster was offended. “Stop that! You know very well my heart belongs to my wife!” 

Roscoe half-heartedly said, “Yeah, the one you cheated on after she kicked you out of the bedroom.” Buster hushed him, concerned that someone would hear. 

As Roscoe was apologizing to Buster, Gail recognized Buster’s body language, in a suspecting manner, perhaps Arbuckle knows something.

Within an hour, Sally had ordered another round and asked Gail to mingle with the patrons, but she preferred instead to observe the body language of a screen comedian and his rotund friend. By the time sally returned she felt intoxicated but not too drunk. Gail, who was now seated next to her, gave her chips to counteract the effects of the alcohol. 

After all that carousing, Roscoe stood up and put on his hat and coat, “I’d better go home. Doris won’t like it if I leave her alone too long.”

The friends exchanged parting words and Roscoe left to the same door that his protégé had entered an hour before. Gail frowned seeing this, thinking that the stone face will have to leave as well. 

Gail sighed, “And I wondered just how innocent Buster really is.”

Sally went, “Screw it, go talk to him.”

Gail was bewildered. She thought sure after the time she encountered the comedian in person, she is certain she will pass out again. She told sally “I don’t know, after what happened on the set-”

Sally patted her cheek, “Bae, you made it so far without blacking out, you’ll be fine.”

Gail feeling unsure, took one more sip to ease her nerves, got up from her table, and straighten her dress.

Sally also stood up to whisper to her friend, “If you do not find out anything about him, I can talk to that Mayzie girl.” Then she pats her in the back before sitting down, “Good luck.”

Gail got Keaton’s attention when she stood near him.

She waved and smiled when introducing herself, “Hi, my name is Gail Anders.” She was trying hard not to blush, “In case you didn’t remember me, I was on one of the brides in the chase sequence in Seven Chances.” 

Keaton nodded, “Oh of course. I want to thank you for the drinks.”

"You're welcome, It's all we can do.” she pointed to sally behind her, “She helped pay for them. Her name is Sally.” 

Gail had her hands on her back to hide her fidgeting fingers, “I want to tell you I’ve been a fan of your work. I even saw your films with Mr. Arbuckle.” 

He didn’t say anything, he was studying her looks. He only nodded at her to respond.

Behind her happy expression, she was seconds away from telling him that he was with Mayzie and asking if he is dating other women when Buster finally chirped out, “Didn’t you work at the Café on Venice Beach?”

 Her hands stopped fidgeting, “Yes, I used to be chorus girl with Sally. Why did you ask?”

“I was there once around last year.”

She went wide-eyed, “You’re, kidding? How did I not notice?”

Buster admitted, “I was on the very back. I was good at blending.” He also recalled, “I think it was that jump rope sequence.” Gail remembered that one. The chorus girls were jumping rope for the act. She was considered lucky to not have fallen out of the stage.

He praised her, “I thought you did very well.”

She blushed hearing this, “Thanks. I currently work at Mack Sennett’s studio.” Buster asked, “Have you played lead roles?” She replied “No I just work on background roles. Sometimes as a bathing beauty.” 

“I think you deserved to be in the movies”

Gail was blessed hearing that, “Thank you again. Gail continued, “Oh, and I love Sherlock Jr. It’s such a great show. I saw it four times. My boyfriend didn't think it was that funny. Though the effects are amazing.” 

Buster seemed thrilled to hear that considering it didn't make much money as his latest film The Navigator did. As Gail attempted to talk more about the effects, a clunk came from behind her.

Gail turned and saw that Sally drank up the alcohol left behind on the table, and tipped the glass. She turned back to the stone face and said “I think I have to get her home soon.”

 He asked, “Is she your sister?”

She shook her head, “No, I just live with her and her aunt.”

He went puzzled, “Why here?”

Her eyes trailed off, “I don’t have an idea. Sally told me she wanted to take advantage of the growing real estate.”

Buster was close to chuckling, “No, no, I meant where are your folks?”

She sat straight as she told him, “They are in Nevada. They were nervous about me moving to Los Angeles after the scandal. I did so anyway and then sally took me in from that cheap unpleasant place.” she went, “Regardless, I thought it was a nice thing of you to check on Mr. Arbuckle.”

“Roscoe? Thanks. I owe everything to him.”

Sally whispered in her ear, “Has she told about me.” Gail didn’t know that her friend was so close to her that she frightened her. Buster stood up from his chair to get ready to leave “How about I escort you fellers through the passageway?”

Gail nodded at his gesture, “Sure just let me leave a tip first.” 

With Sally seemingly drunk, Gail has her hold her friend to keep her in place while Keaton led them back to the entrance where they saw that the man in overalls is now napping.  

After they reached the door, Gail turned to Buster saying, “Will I ever see you again, Buster?”

“As long as you catch me on Seven Chances,” he said. Gail giggled at his reply.

Her soft statement was, “Maybe I'll audition for your next movie. Goodbye now.” Keaton watched as they departed the Speakeasy.

As they got out of the alleyway Sally asked, “Well, did you find out anything about Keaton?”

Gail was raising her hand to attract a cab, “I can’t do it. I don’t care anymore. I know he is a very trustworthy friend.”

Sally went, “Okay if he is a cheat. He needs to stop that before he goes to hell.”

Gail was happy to chat with her favorite screen comedian but when she mentioned her boyfriend to Keaton she suspected that she might have struck his nerve. It is not clear that he showed it, but it is possible.

Soon, their ride home shows up and got on the passenger seat. As Sally leaned on her friend she commented, “Oh and you aren't kidding about the accent. Some night out huh?”

Note: that the film that Roscoe was talking about. it was the Iron Mule (1925). There is even an uncredited appearance from Buster Himself! Try to watch it!

also Gail couldn't hear Roscoe and Buster. that part is supposed to be POV for both Buster and Gail.

[jubilantwriter]

Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

(First)  (Previous)  (Next)  (AO3)

Part 8 - Reflected like Sunlight Against the Waves

Summary:  Getting the human to do what needs to be done is harder than Daniel realizes.  But each part of the process takes steps.  And he’s willing to put forth the effort, so long as it gets him the results he needs, however long it takes.

// // // // //

It's not often that the sun comes out.  But it's very often that it disappears back behind the clouds without a single word.  Routine returns without another word.  And not another word is mentioned as they settle back into fish and silence and the ever lingering darkness that follows with the changing of the seasons.

Daniel finds that he doesn't enjoy the silence that much anymore.  But words are hard to coax out.  Hard to lure out when he's scrabbling for a purchase as the human stares at him blankly from where he resides.  He doesn't know too much about humans.  Doesn't really want to get too close to them.

(A lie and a half.)

But now he's starting to... feel a little concerned.�� No, not worried, of course not.  But he's a little concerned.  Because the sun, or what little of the sun he used to see, is dipping down below the horizon faster and faster.  There's a chill in the air that he can finally feel.  A warning.  He watches as the gulls around him begin to dwindle in number, their little eyes looking at him with a mild curiosity as he remains.  A whisper draws his attention, but he pays the sea no mind.  It's been awfully calm lately, strangely calm.  But he doesn't have time to question the sea and why it decides to whisper instead of yell.  There's more important things to consider.

For instance, if Daniel makes his seasonal trip to the warmer waters, where other humans are more likely to be easier meals, would the human here still be alive for him to feed when he returns?

Will the human remember to feed himself?

Will the human be able to care for himself?

Difficult, difficult questions that should not be questions.

On one hand, he could perhaps ask the selkie for a favor.  Her little human lover could be of help.  Maybe feed the human while he's away.  He can even suggest which winter fishes to feed the human in order to satisfy his nearly nonexistent palette.  And because she's a selkie, she's less than likely to show herself around the human.  

But... she's also a selkie.  A selkie who finds humans such curious creatures, despite her natural instinct suggesting she stay the fuck away from them.  No no, it seems more so that her friendly nature wins out every time, and that's what keeps her from completely leaving her lover behind.  Not only that, but her playful nature would make her endearing, which would make her convincing.  Maybe she'd even convince the human to crave life instead of death!  Awful, really.

No.  He cannot depend on the selkie for help.  She'd never leave him alone if he asked her lover to call her for help.  And the old fool would oblige, because of course he would.  Years and years of obsessing over eating the human managed to endear the siren to the old fisherman, when the old man should have felt fear instead.  Daniel groans and rubs at his face.  Humans make no sense.  They should be fearing him - a siren!  He's their natural predator.  But of course not.  He has one old fisherman that waves to him when he sits on his rock, and another human that practically begs for Daniel to eat him.  An involuntary shudder shakes his feathers, and he finds himself fluffing himself out to better keep himself warm.

The weather is growing colder.  And that means he has to leave soon.  Which means...

Which means he needs to convince the human to take care of himself while he's gone.

He stands up, wings spread wide as he dashes across the waves and beats his wings for added momentum.  Even as his feet touches the sand, he keeps up his pace and aims for the door.  Just as he's about to tackle the door with the full force of his body, the door opens.

Goddammit.

A loud grunt greets him as he and the human crash and tumble onto the ground.  Daniel squawks in shock as he pulls away from the tangle of limbs he finds himself in.  The human takes longer to sit up, groaning as he rubs his head and shoots a half-assed glare at Daniel.

"Really?"  Annoyed words leave the human as he continues to sit in place.  "You got tired of kicking my door in, so now you wanna start slamming into me instead?"

"I didn't know you were going to open the door!"  Daniel points at the empty bed and glares back.  "Normally, I have to struggle to get your ass up and about!  What made you suddenly decide to get up now?!"  

"Well, I heard you coming and thought, 'Gee, maybe I should just invite him in instead of letting him break my door,' and what do I get for trying to be polite?  An aching back and a puffed out siren."

Daniel grumbles as he tries to relax, pulling his wings back close to his body.  "I didn't ask you to open the door."

"Yeah, well, I shoulda realized that sirens don't have manners."

"I have manners!"

"In a manner of speaking."  The human ignores his outraged cry and stands up to stretch.  Looking around, the human tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly.  "What?  No fish?"

"No."  Daniel gets up and dusts himself off as he remembers why he came here in the first place.  "I can't keep feeding you like this.  You need to take care of yourself."

"Stellar idea."  The human turns on his heel and begins crawling back into his bed.  "I'm going to take care of myself by never waking up."

Irritation creeps through Daniel as he clears his throat.  It's not his favorite thing to do, but it's the only thing that works.  "You can't keep doing this-"  He hesitates for a moment, realizing he doesn't even know the human's name.  However, the gentle tone and higher pitch is enough to get the human to freeze in place.  "I wish you'd take care of yourself...  It makes me so sad seeing you like this."

"Dave..."  The human slowly turns to Daniel, tears in his eyes.  "Davey."  

Their eyes meet for a moment.  The smell of heartbreak grows stronger by the minute, and Daniel heaves a sigh through his nose as he drops the voice.  "He'd want you to take care of yourself."

"Y... no, why do you care?"

"I can't be around to feed you all the time."  He crosses his arms as the human sits on his bed.  The brunette's head droops as he focuses his gaze on the wooden floor.  "You need to start feeding yourself.  Or at least, attempt to care for yourself.  Maybe that will change your attitude enough to make me want to eat you."  

"I do want to get eaten."

"Then fucking eat.  Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?"

"No, absolutely not."  The human's face scrunches up as he thinks.  "Do sirens do that thing that birds do to feed their babies?  Davey told me once that they uhhh, digest food and then spit it back up into their kids' mouths."

"I can show you, it's quite easy actually-"

"Nononononono, absolutely NOT."  He stands up quickly and waves his hands in front of him.  "You already tried to shove worms into my mouth, I do NOT need bird spit up in my mouth instead!"

"It's actually more complex than that.  Look, it's easier if I just show you-"

"Hey, how about we start working on that 'feeding myself' thing, yeah?  Instead of you puking up your last meal to 'show me' or whatever."

"I was going to show you one of these days, since you insist on acting like a little chick."  Daniel smirks as the human gags.  "Little chicky food for the little chicky baby."

"Gross!"

"I'll be happy to resort to it if you insist on making me continue to feed you."

"I'd rather eat the worms, thanks."

"How about I get some right now, just so you have the chance?"

"No, keep your dirty worms to yourself."  As the human continues to cringe, Daniel takes a closer look around the one-roomed shack.  The fisherman uses a fishing pole or whatever to catch his meals.  He looks around and spies nothing of the sort.  Actually, the more he looks around, the more he realizes that the human simply has... nothing.  There's a bowl or two, sure, the roasting sticks, some logs of wood that the human must have dragged from somewhere, a single plate, a knife that's duller than his talons, and old, drying fish scales littering the floor.

There's nothing in here.  Nothing but a bed and a human and a sad excuse of a living space.  Even Daniel's cave looks more luxurious than this travesty!

"...How did you feed yourself before I came here?"

"Uhh."  The human looks around at his empty shack and shrugs.  "I traded most of my things away."

"...Why?"

"I didn't have a use for them anymore."  The brunette rubs his arm slowly, as if the reality of his home begins to dawn on him.  "I mean, I kept a few bare essentials.  But I was considering trading the bowls for something too before you came here.  I don't have money.  Everything I arrived with is gone to someone else.  And..."  He shrugs as he looks at Daniel.  "It's not like I had anything worth keeping."

(A painful thought tries to surface, but Daniel shoves it down.  Not here.  Not now.  He doesn't want to... relate.)

"So," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you have nothing to get you more food.  No tools, no money, nothing of worth."

The human hesitates.  "Well..."  He kneels beside his bed and carefully pulls out an object.

An... instrument?  Daniel's seen those before, on ships that would pass by in the warmer waters.  He's never seen one so up close before.  The human strokes the instrument gently, refusing to look up as he gazes at it almost wistfully.

The scent of rot almost... lightens as he sighs.

"This belonged to Davey.  It's the only thing I have left."

"Can you play it?"

"What?"  The human looks up in surprise as Daniel settles down in front of him.

"I said, can you play it?"

"I-"  He glances between the instrument and Daniel as the blonde focuses his attention on the instrument in front of him.  It looks to have... many strings on it.  He loses count after the tenth or so string.  But the body of the instrument reminds him of a drop of water, and that's enough to have him tilting his head in interest.

"Play it?"

"I don't uh, I don't know how."

"Unbelievable.  Fingers are wasted on you."

"You have fingers too!"

"Yes, with talons."  He flexes his hands out in front of the human to emphasize his point.  "I can't make music with my hands like you humans can.  Only with my voice."  A little bit of bitterness enters his voice as his wings slowly curl around his sides.  "My songs would be perfect with a bit of instrumental backing."

"You really care about your songs being perfect."

"Of course!"  He puffs his chest out proudly as he smirks at the human.  "It's how I lure desperate idiots like you to become my meals."

(And it's how he passes the time.  How he fills the emptiness all around him with something.  Fills the air with nonsensical noise so that he doesn't feel alone.  Drowns out the ocean's cries and the faint whispers from his memories.  It's all he has.  It's all he's ever had.)

"Well, you're not wrong."  The human idly plucks at the strings, plucking the siren's interest in turn.  "But I honestly don't know how to play this."

"Just do what you're doing.  It doesn't have to make sense."  Daniel just wants to hear something new for once.  A little nonsense doesn't hurt, after all.

"...Sure."

The human plucks at the strings, strums a bit, before returning to random plucking.  Musical notes jumble together in a strange pattern as the brunette gets a feel for the instrument.  It's nothing special.  It's nothing interesting.  But it's something relaxing.  Daniel sighs softly as he watches the human's fingers wander the many strings on the instrument, closing his eyes as he listens to the idle noise.

"...Davey used to play me songs all the time."

Daniel keeps his eyes closed as he nods along.  "Mmm."

"He'd always come up with new songs.  Most of the time, they were just silly tunes about whatever he saw that day.  Like the trees swaying in the wind.  Or the stars sparkling at night.  Sometimes, he'd make songs at our friend's behest.  Something like, 'Gwen isn't your mother, so stop asking her to fix your clothes for you'.  That one was always one of my favorites."

"Mmhm."  

"He loved the hell out of this thing.  Said it was the best gift I'd ever given him.  Well, second to best gift."  

Daniel opens his eyes wordlessly as he focuses on the human's sad smile.

"My very best gift to him was my love, or so he said."

"...What about you?"

"Hm?"  The human stops plucking at the strings to focus on Daniel.

"What did he give you in return for your gifts?"

"...His smiles.  His laughter."  The human's eyes grow watery, but not a single tear sheds as Daniel watches.  "I loved seeing him happy.  I'd do anything to see him shine brighter than the sun and the stars.  I thought that I wouldn't need anything else in the world.  Just him, and his sweet, bright smiles."  

They both look down at the instrument held tenderly in the human's hands.  Bright smiles and happy laughter are long gone now, Daniel thinks.  But the memories remain.  So maybe, not all is lost.  The instrument, despite how the loss of its owner still affects him, garners positive emotions from the human.  He smells less like rot, which is good.  But nothing else comes from him.  No sweet scent of happiness, no fragrant scent of wistfulness.  Nothing but rot, though the scent is a little weaker than usual.

So.  It's a start.

"Keep the instrument."

"What?"  The human looks up at him with shock.  Daniel rolls his eyes as he continues.

"Keep the instrument.  It obviously will give you something to do in this empty excuse of a shack."

"I guess but-"  The brunette looks around at the noticeable lack of food.  "I don't have anything else to trade."

"So then, what?  You're going to trade away your beloved's beloved instrument?"

The human hugs it closer to his chest.  "...I refuse."

"Good."  Daniel stands up with a grin and heads towards the door.  "At least you have some semblance of life in you.  That'll make you tastier to devour."

"But what about the food?"

"I'll just catch fish until you figure something out."  He shrugs as he pauses by the door, a thought returning to him as he studies the human still seated with the instrument.  "By the by, what the hell is your name?"

The human squints at him suspiciously.  "Why do you want to know?"

"To perfect my song, obviously."  He rolls his eyes.  "Makes it more personal, more intimate.  More believable.  I thought you wanted to drown in your delusions just a little bit more?  If I make my songs more palatable to you, then maybe you can finally experience the ounce of joy needed to make me consider eating you."

"My name-"  The human cuts himself off, frowning as he looks away from Daniel.  He considers a little bit too long as Daniel snaps from where he stands.

"Well?  What's your name?  Or do you not have one?"

"I have one," he says calmly, not looking at Daniel, "but I'd rather not give it to you."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't want you to grow attached."  The human glances at Daniel before returning his attention to the instrument.  "It'd be harder for you to eat me if you know my name, right?  I wouldn't be another nameless human you want to eat.  I'd be that guy you know, that guy who's name you'll say everyday like it's commonplace.  You'll get attached, and then you'll reconsider making good on your promise to eat me.  Better for us both if you don't know it."

He blinks.  Once.  Twice.  Dumbfounded, almost.  He didn’t think he’d be rejected being told a name.  His chest twists into knots as his fist trembles by his side.

Daniel swallows hard as he glares at the human's head.

"Fine."

(He's not disappointed.  He's not.)

The human flinches at his hard reply, but before he can get another word out, Daniel races out towards the sea.

He hears the ocean whisper, but he ignores it in favor of diving into the waves.  And for once, the ocean welcomes him with a pitying embrace.

Pathetic, he thinks, as he lets himself sink.  How truly pathetic.

[superspoonie24]

Suki’s Soft Spot

Suzuka!!!! OT3. OT3. OT3. They are tracking down some pirates and all is well and good until someone starts teasing Suki’s boyfriends. 2.5k of Suki being a BAMF.  💛

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291361

"Sokka! Watch out!" Suki shouted.

Sokka ducked the incoming fire blast and ran his sword through his opponent.

"Thanks." Sokka smiled before yelling "DUCK."

Suki hit the ground as Sokka chucked his boomerang at the incoming assailant.

"You two sure do talk a lot during combat," Zuko quipped.

Suki stuck out her tongue and Sokka replied "You love us."

Zuko didn't respond, but his blush said it all.

Suki rolled over to where Sokka was and stood up, her back against his. There were 3 enemies left, one for each of them. Zuko let out a roar of fire and scorched the bender in front of him. Sokka took off to fight the man with the giant club, leaving Suki alone with the girl with the sword.

The girl lunged towards Suki and she danced out of the way.

"You're not gonna hit me that easy." Suki furled open her fans and circled around her opponent.

"Good. I've been looking for a challenge."

She swung her sword at Suki's head and Suki blocked it with her armor plated forearm.

"Nice try."

The girl drew back and swiped at the legs. Suki jumped over the blade.

"Sad," Suki fake pouted. "I thought you were going to be a challenge."

The girl growled and charged Suki. Suki caught the sword with her fans and twisted it out of her hands. She tied her hands behind her back and tossed her to the ground.

Suki stopped to catch her breath, which was admittedly harder than normal. She watched in awe as Zuko helped Sokka take out the man with the club. They high fived each other and she couldn't help but smile at her boyfriends.

"Suki!" Sokka shouted. "You okay?"

"No problems here," she replied. "This one's bark is worse than her bite."

"Glad to hear it," Zuko answered as he picked up two of the benders by the collar.

"Come on. We gotta take these thugs back to town."

"Man, I wish Toph were here to just Earthbend them over there."

"I'm not sure that's how that works Sokka..."

"You have your way of Earth bending, and I have mine."

Sokka crossed his arms over his chest. Zuko didn't bother with a response.

"You coming Suki?" Zuko shouted over his shoulder.

"Right behind ya!"

Suki picked the girl up by the wrists and forced her to walk forward, not noticing the trail of blood behind her.

***

Suki enjoyed listening to the playful bickering between her boyfriends. She couldn't help the smile that came to her face.

"Ugh, do they ever shut up?" The girl with the sword complained.

"What did you say?" Suki looked down at her captive.

"Those two squawk louder than ostrich horses at meal time."

"Listen here," Suki growled into her ear. "You will not speak that way about my partners, got it?" Suki jabbed the point of her fan into her side.

"Oh, so you got a soft spot for morons?"

Suki reached up and pulled back the girls hair.

"Don't. Talk. About them."

"Silly, girl-" she coughed. "You, could get, anyone, you wanted. Yet you, settle, for idiotic trash."

Suki flipped the girl onto the ground. She placed her boot into the small of her back and pressed down, hard.

"Suki! What's going on back there?" Sokka exclaimed.

"Nothing." Suki smiled. "Just reminding her who's in charge."

"Do you need any help?" Zuko asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, I got it. Thank you though. We'll catch up with you."

Zuko and Sokka shrugged and continued on ahead, leaving Suki alone with the girl. Suki leaned down close next to her ear.

"Are you going to be quiet?" She sneered. "Or do I have to make you."

The girl didn't respond.

"Get up."

Suki pulled the girl up and pushed her forward. When she caught up with the guys however, there was a problem.

"Sokka! Zuko!" Suki exclaimed. She tried to run to them, but the girl tripped her. She stepped on her back as a different guy came in to untie her hands.

"Careful boys..." The girl looked down at Suki and grinned. "She's got a soft spot for tweedle dumb and tweedle idiot."

Suki growled but it turned into a yelp when the girl pressed her foot into the wound on her side.

"Guess ya didn't notice when I hit ya," she sneered. "Two busy doting on those two idiots and bragging about how I wasn't 'a challenge'."

Suki looked up at Sokka and Zuko, who had their hands and legs bound behind them.

"How did you..."

"It's called the long game, sweetheart." She leaned down and pulled back Suki's hair. "We let a few of us get caught, find your weak spots, then the rest of us swoop down and ambush you when you least expect it."

She let go of Suki's hair and pressed further into the gash on her side.

"Don't know why I expected anything more from a lovesick girl."

Suki bit back her pain, but she couldn't stop the panic that fled through her.

"What do you want with us?" Suki growled.

"Well at first we were just gonna leave you here while we escape..." She leaned down and stroked Suki's hair. "But once we realized that scar boy over there is actually the FireLord, well we couldn't pass up the ransom we could get for him."

Suki tried to get out from under her, but the pain in her side was too much.

"Of course we'll take you two as well. Can't have anyone going for help afterall..."

Suki grimaced as a man yanked on her arms and dragged her off the ground. He tied her wrists together, but left her legs free to walk.

"You won't get away with this." Suki sneered. "The Avatar will know something's up if we don't come back. He'll stop you for AAAAHH."

Suki doubled over in pain. The girl punched her in the side and knocked the last of her breath out of her.

"Oh shut up."

She stuck a rag in her mouth and the man behind her forced her up. Suki struggled to regain her breath.

"Don't hurt her." Zuko threatened. Sokka's face was twisted into a scowl.

"As long as everyone does what their told, then there won't be any problems."

She stepped in front of Suki and ran her fingers down her cheek. She cupped her chin, and smirked.

"Now mush. We need to get to the ship by sundown."

***

Zuko and Sokka were tossed onto the floor of the brig, arms and legs still bound. Suki was pushed in, then got her hands chained to the wall behind them, stretching her taught. Suki glared at she man pulling the chains higher. She couldn't stop from wincing in pain.

"That's enough." The girl, who apparently was the leader, shouted. "Let's leave the 3 lovebirds alone."

The door slammed behind them and left the three in the dwindling light.

Suki spit out her gag and looked to her boyfriends.

"I'm sorry guys," she whispered. "If I hadn't gotten so defensive, we wouldn't have split up, and they wouldn't have been able to ambush us."

Sokka and Zuko shared a look.

"Suki..." "It's not your fault." "None of us knew they were going to ambush." "And if you were with us," "we still wouldn't have been able to take them down." "It's not your fault." "Yea. Zuko would know. You can't trust pirates."

Zuko scowled at Sokka. Sokka smiled back.

"Thanks guys."

"Always." They replied in unison.

Suki pulled on the restraints and couldn't help but whimper in pain.

"Now where did that come from?" Sokka asked, leaning forward to try and get a closer look.

"She must have landed a blow when I caught her blade with my fan." Suki looked down at the growing stain on her uniform. "It's not that bad, really."

"Yes it is." Zuko interrupted. "We at least need to stop the bleeding."

Zuko lit a small flame and burned through the ropes around his arms and wrists. Then he untied Sokka and his own feet. The two made their way over to where Suki was restrained, stumbling as the boat started to rock.

"Guess we're going on another sea trip. Woohoo..." Sokka tried to laugh. Zuko ignored it and Suki tried to laugh, but it only hurt her more.

"We need to look at it. Can we take off the uniform?"

Suki winced in pain as she tried to speak. She nodded her head and muttered, "yes. Whatever you need."

Sokka untied her belt and lifted the armor over her head. Zuko opened the dress until Suki was just in her under clothes.

"This is gonna hurt," Zuko explained as he peeled off the fabric stuck to her skin. Suki shut her eyes but couldn't help squealing in pain.

"It's okay Suki. Just breath." Sokka placed his head against hers and helped her calm down.

"Sokka, tear off a long piece of the cleanest fabric you can find. We gotta stop the bleeding."

"On it."

Sokka kissed Suki's forhead and then tore off a long strip of dark green fabric.

"You know, for being, the Firelord," Suki mumbled. "They sure, don't pay, much attention, to you..."

Suki's head drooped forward and Zuko lifted it back up. He stared into her fading blue eyes.

"They know that you're the one to fear."

Suki smiled and rested her head on his. Zuko gently stroked her hair.

"Got it!" Sokka announced.

Zuko kissed Suki on the top of her head and moved down to her side.

"Sokka, is there any water down here?"

"Clean?"

"Preferably."

"Then no."

Zuko sighed and looked at the dried blood and dirt on Suki's side.

"Tear off another clean piece of fabric, smaller this time."

Sokka immediately ripped off a small square of fabric.

"This is gonna hurt. I'm sorry."

"I'm fine. Do what you need to."

Zuko wiped down the area around the wound and did his best to clean it. Suki bit her lip and whimpered in pain.

"Sokka, bring over the long piece. We gotta wrap it around her and stop the bleeding."

Sokka stood and gave Zuko an end of the long, clean piece of fabric. Suki groaned.

"It's okay Suki. We're almost done."

Zuko placed his warm hands on her left side and held the fabric to the open wound. Sokka slowly wrapped it around her body and Zuko pressed it tight into her side. They kept it up until the fabric ended. Sokka picked up the belt and tied it around her waist, keeping the wrapping in place.

"Thanks, guys..." Suki drawled.

Sokka and Zuko shared a look of concern.

"It's not the best..." "But it'll have to do."

"Well I think you did a tremendous job boys." The lead woman called as she strode into the cell. "You managed to clean up your girlfriend all by yourself."

She stepped into the cell and behind Suki. Sokka and Zuko prepared themselves for a fight.

"Ahaha," she warned. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." She pulled back on Suki's hair and dragged her hand down Suki's face and neck. "Not unless you want your precious girlfriend to suffer."

She closed her hand around Suki's throat, and Suki started to choke. She began pulling on her restraints and kicking her legs, threatening to undo all the work they did on her side.

"Don't." Sokka shouted. Both boys put their hands up in submission.

"We'll do what you want." Zuko spit.

"Just, don't hurt her."

The woman released Suki's neck and Suki began coughing, desperately trying to take a breath.

"Good." She smiled and walked towards them. "Sit, against the wall."

The boys moved quietly, not taking their eyes off Suki.

"This time we'll have to make sure you can't get out."

A man came in with heavy, iron, manacles. He fastened them tight around their wrists, and another set around their ankles.

"Now stay there until we reach shore." She walked over to Suki and played with her wrappings. "I sure do hope you're worth all this trouble, Firelord."

She punched Suki in the side and then walked out of the cell. All light disappeared as the door slammed shut, leaving the three lovers alone in utter darkness.

***

The boat slammed into something and Sokka shook awake. He noticed the small spot of drool he left on Zuko's shoulder and tried to wipe it off, when he realized his hands were still chained.

"Oh yea... We got kidnapped," he mumbled to himself.

"Zuko, wake up."

No response.

"Come on Zuko."

Again, nothing.

"Dang it." Sokka grumbled before he got an idea. He leaned over him and placed his lips onto Zuko's, giving him a slow, passionate kiss. Zuko started to reciprocate the kiss and Sokka slowly pulled back.

"Why'd you stop?" Zuko pouted.

"Because we're on a pirate ship in the middle of who knows where and we have more important things to worry about."

"Oh yea."

The boys looked over to Suki, who looked unconscious.

"shirt." Zuko muttered. "We have to check on her."

"I know Zuko, but we kinda can't right now."

Sokka gestured to the heavy chains and Zuko leaned his head against the wall. He was ready to shout when suddenly the door burst open.

"Katara!" Sokka shouted. "Get us out of here."

Katara rushed to the cell and unlocked the door.

"That's why I'm here," Katara quipped.

She smiled at her brother and unlocked his chains.

"Are you okay?" Katara asked Sokka and Zuko.

"We're fine," Zuko answered. "Suki needs you."

Katara turned around and scrambled over to where Suki was laying.

"Help me get her to Appa!" She shouted.

"Appa's here?" Sokka asked as he helped carry his girlfriend.

"How else do you think Aang Toph and I found you?" Katara snapped at her brother.

Sokka didn't respond. He and Zuko carried Suki to Appa, avoiding the flying rocks and fire outside.

"Aang! We got them! Let's go."

Katara knelt down at the back of Appa's saddle and Sokka and Zuko layed Suki down in front of her. Zuko held her head in his lap and Sokka held her limp hand. Katara's hands started to glow as she bent the healing water around them. Slowly, Suki started to groan and shift in pain. Sokka held her down as Katara continued to heal her.

"Aang! Toph!" Sokka shouted. "Let's go!"

The two hopped onto Appa and the group soon took off into the air.

"Will she be okay?" Zuko asked quietly.

"Please," Suki coughed. "Can't, get rid of me, that easily."

Sokka nearly cried as he and Zuko started laughing.

"Alright alright. Take it easy you three." Katara chastised, but deep down was relieved Suki woke up.

"Now Suki," Katara asked. "I need to know how you got yourself in this mess."

"Funny story," Suki winced as she tried to sit up. "It's because of those two."

"Of course it is..."

"Hey!" Sokka shouted.

"You know you love us," Zuko replied.

Suki blushed and simply answered with the truth.

"You bet your asses I do."

[thedeevirus]

Hello. hypothetical situation; if Edward had a change of heart and dove in after Oswald to save him, after he shoots him at the docks. After Edward pulled Oswald from the water, what do you think would be the first thing Edward / Oswald would say?

Was going to answer this as a standard ‘ask’ but then the creative juices started flowing ;) Hope you enjoy your hypothetical answer!

Added to NYGMOBBLEPOT FICLETS on AO3

****

‘You shot me!’

Ed ignored Oswald’s shocked spluttering. He grunted as he dragged Oswald from the water, his shoes sliding on the slippery surface of the pier. Even though his lungs and limbs were burning from the impromptu swim, he didn’t stop to rest as he frantically scanned his brain for the first aid knowledge catalogued within. Dead bodies were his specialty. Not the preamble.

‘Gunshot wound to the stomach’, Ed listed, ‘Don’t elevate the legs. Sitting position. Hard, continuous pressure to entry point. Check for position of wound’.

‘Y-y-you sh-sh-sho-‘ Oswald struggled to say through chattering teeth.

‘I heard you the first time!’ Ed said sharply, annoyed at the interruption to his train of thought.

The interruption was worsened when Oswald grabbed him by the throat. Ed gagged at the pressure as Oswald began to squeeze. How could someone who had just been shot and dumped in a river have so much strength left in them?! Then again, it was hardly Oswald’s first time.

‘Stop it!’ Ed choked desperately, ‘Trying to save your life! Trying to save your life!’

Realising from the murderous glint in Oswald’s reddened eyes that he had no intention of listening to Ed, Ed suddenly pressed the bullet wound hard with his knuckles. It wasn’t quite a punch but it was enough to make Oswald fall back, mouth and eyes gaping with pain.

Taking advantage of Oswald’s stunned state, Ed dragged him into a sitting position against a bollard. He picked up his coat from where he had dropped it before diving in after Oswald. Draping it around Oswald’s shoulders, Ed then balled up his significantly damper waistcoat. He shoved it into Oswald’s limp hands and clasped them around it. Oswald needed little persuasion to clench his white knuckled fingers into the material. Ed put it over the wound in Oswald’s abdomen, noting the position and the bright blood soaking through Oswald’s clothes. There was less blood than expected. Was that a good thing? Why couldn’t he think straight?!

‘Here’, Ed said loudly, pushing the jacket against the blood, ‘Better use for your hands right now. Hold that there and press hard’.

Oswald obeyed as Ed took his phone out of the coat pocket. As he hastily dialled ‘911’, he noticed the grey rain mingling with his sodden clothing and wondered if he should be feeling cold.

‘Ambulance please!’ he cried theatrically as dispatch answered, ‘Hurry! Mayor Cobblepot’s been shot! Pier 4, south side of the Narrows. Hurry! I-I think he’s going to die!’

Ed wiped at the water drops spattered on his glasses as he hung up. Placing the phone back in his coat, his fingers brushed against the gun. He disposed of it by hurling it savagely into the bay. He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the lump growing in it. He wondered if it was from inadvertently swallowing some water or from Oswald’s murder attempt. At least it had been useful during the phone call. Hopefully he had sounded panicked enough but it seemed his eyes were going to be watering for a while. That’s what he got for being a method actor.He turned his attention back to Oswald who was glaring at him. The pale eyes were bright and feverish beneath his limp, black hair.

‘Gonna kill you’, Oswald hissed through gritted teeth, a mixture of harbour water and drool hanging from his chin. Ed knew Oswald was wishing it was venom he could spit in Ed’s face.

‘Let’s put a pin in that for now shall we?’ Ed said officiously, adjusting his tie.

‘Why?’

‘”Why did I shoot you” or “why did I save you”?’ Ed asked, pacing in a small circle, ‘Because I think I just about covered the first thing before I pulled the trigger’.

Oswald held up two fingers indicating the second question.Ed halted. A sudden memory of he and Oswald waving at the crowds in the mayoral motorcade surfaced. ‘V for victory’. His head pounded as he shook it to dispel the image.

‘I don’t know’, he said, grabbing Oswald’s still aloft fingers and thrusting his hand back on top of the wound. Oswald gasped and moaned.‘But I do not feel bad about it!’ Ed continued, ‘You deserve this! Just because I don’t feel like killing you right this second does not mean we’re friends, okay?!’

Oswald rolled his eyes (Ed wasn’t sure if it was in a mocking way or due to the pain) but nodded.Ed noted Oswald’s hands slipping again and placed his own over them. They felt cold and limp as Ed pressed hard. Oswald gave a hoarse squawk of pain then clamped his jaw tightly shut.

‘Why did you have to ruin things?!’ Ed demanded, ‘Everything was in place and then you had to throw a wrench in the gears!’

Oswald tilted his head questioningly.

‘At the club!’ Ed said exasperatedly, ‘Why didn’t you just hand me over to Barbara and the others? Why’d you have to say that nonsense about ‘being ready’ and ‘not letting them hurt me’?!’

Oswald was trying to control his breathing and Ed saw him take a long, steady inhalation to answer.

‘Figured may…as well tell… the truth’.

‘Yeah right. You knew! You knew I wouldn’t be able to let it go! Just another plot isn’t it? To make me hesitate. Another scheme to save your own skin!’

‘If it…makes you…feel better’.

‘It doesn’t! Shooting you was supposed to make me feel better! Make things right!’

‘But it…didn’t’, Oswald said with relish despite his obvious exhaustion and pain.

‘Shut up. You should not be talking. You’re dying!’Ed gave an abrupt, shaky laugh. He cleared his throat again. The damn lump just would not go away!‘And I should feel great about that! I should have been on top of the world and instead I stood there, smoking gun in my hand and all I felt was…’

Oswald was watching him closely. Ed was begrudgingly impressed. He had assumed Oswald would have lost consciousness by now. He tried to stare Oswald down but found his eyes drifting to the wound instead. His stomach lurched at the sight of the blood coating his jacket. He could smell the all too familiar scent even over the stale water and salt in the air. Odd. He’d never felt squeamish before.

‘Just…tell me one thing’, he said, looking out over the harbour, ‘Did you mean what you said? Or-or thought you meant what you said? In the club?’

There was no answer. Ed scoffed.

‘Oh, so now you’re not talking? Very mature!’

He turned his head and saw Oswald’s eyes were closed.

‘Oswald?’

Still no response.

‘Oswald?!’

No response even with a shake.

‘Oswald!’

A louder voice with a harder shake got a response.

‘Said not….to talk’. Oswald said, the ghost of a smirk beneath his still closed eyes.

‘You are the most difficult, petty, infuriating person I’ve ever met in my life!’ Ed said angrily.

Oswald’s mocking laugh disintegrated into a series of coughs. A thin layer of blood coated his teeth as he smiled at Ed.

‘I…love…you…too’, he wheezed.

‘Stop saying that!’ Ed snapped, cheeks reddening.

He clicked his tongue as he heard sirens approaching. It had taken them long enough!

‘This conversation is not over’, he promised Oswald, standing up to wave the approaching ambulance down.

[just-horrible-things]

Part 1 / Scene 10

[Next]

Sweat and blood mingle on the bound prisoner's skin, slick and sticky. Ice water crashes over her and her head jerks up. The creak of the ropes is barely audible beneath her gasping breath and the dwindling patter of the falling water. Corded muscle shifts beneath her skin and metal rattles against metal as the chair shifts against the bolts that fasten it to the floor.

"Today," Malki sneers, "The whole division will see you weep. Vencore's iron grip will be shattered. Today you help me begin to get justice for the dead." General Emell Siegan spits blood, and bares her teeth in a savage mockery of a grin. Fire burns in her eyes. "Do your worst," she snarls. "Oh, I will." Malki claps her hands to signal her cronies. "I believe I have something of yours."

The door slides open, juddering only a little on its runners. A pair of masked revolutionists step through, dragging between them a limp form. The General's brows knit together in a deep frown.

The unmoving soldier is bound hand and foot. Her Vencore uniform is rumpled and streaked with grime. Silvery tape covers her mouth. Malki's goons toss her onto the concrete at their leader’s feet. She uses the toe of one boot to turn the soldier’s head to face General Siegan, then rests that blood-spattered boot casually between her shoulder blades.

Siegan's lips peel back from her teeth again. Her gaze is fixed on the soldier on the floor. The latter's eyelids flutter weakly. "I thought you had more honour than this," Siegan growls. "Honour?" Malki's laugh is a violent, cracking thing with no humour in it. "Has there ever been honour in war? A pretty lie for the oppressor to condemn the tactics of the underdog, that's all honour is." "You claim to be better than us." Siegan's hands are balled into fists despite the broken fingers. The cords bite deeply into her straining wrists. "How is this better?"

The soldier begins to stir beneath Malki's boot. She grinds her heel down, smirking at the small groan it elicits, and the way the General's glower darkens a shade further. "Why," she sneers, "Anyone would think Kasdy here were an innocent." Her voice is sickly-sweet on the nickname. "Murderers and slave drivers deserve to suffer for their sins. Her hands are as stained as any of ours. And you gave those orders, so you can watch her pay the price."

Malki lifts her foot from Kasandra's back, only to drive a savage kick into her ribs. Groaning, the soldier tries to roll away from the blow. "Rise and shine," Malki orders, "It's your turn to take the stage, my friend!" Bleary, dazed eyes stare up at her, blinking, then widen with dawning revelation. "I will see you all gutted," Siegan growls.

At Malki's word, her cronies toss a long rope over one of the girders above. The hefty hook on the end serves as a weight, and the throw is neat. The hook is lowered until Malki can catch it in one hand. Kasandra struggles wildly as Malki crouches over her, but all her thrashing fails to prevent Malki threading the hook through the bonds at her ankles. It locks closed with an ominous snick. For a second Kasandra is still. Then her writhing resumes as the revolutionists begin to haul on the rope and lift her from the floor. The tape over her mouth muffles her attempted protests.

General Siegan remains silent and still, eyes locked onto her subordinate. Kasandra's struggles get weaker as the blood runs to her head. Her breath is audible - short, quick huffs through her nose - in the silence as the rope is tied off. She swings gently, twisting back and forth on the end of the rope. Her eyes, wide and desperate, meet Siegan's. "Stay strong, soldier." Siegan's voice is low and warm and even. "I believe in you." Tears form in Kasandra's eyes, and she screws them shut tight. "Touching," Malki mocks.

Malki's combat knife is broad-bladed and heavy, with a long straight edge and a short stretch of wicked serrations close to the guard. She spins it in her hand, grinning at Siegan. Then she uses it to cut the uniform off Kasandra's body. The knife starts at the ankles, almost at the top of Malki's reach, and slices readily through the cloth. Metal kisses the skin, and dark blood stains the fabric before it is peeled away like the skin coming off an animal carcass under the knife of a savage hunter.

Kasandra twists and bucks, but achieves nothing besides knocking her head against Malki's knees. Malki's grin is fixed in place, mad and dangerous, as she slices down Kasandra's shin to the thigh, and then on to the waist. Muted grunts and moans of anger go unacknowledged. In places where the reinforced uniform resists the knife, the serrations are brought into play and make short work of the straps. The tip digs gouges into the flesh, drawing more urgent yelps from behind the tape gag.

By the time Kasandra's trousers are completely cut away - flung aside like rags - her skin glistens with sweat. Bright blood runs in rivulets across her exposed body. Without the belt to keep it in place, her shirt hangs down over her face. Malki slices her underclothes away with quick motions. Then she pulls the shirt away from Kasandra's body and cuts methodically from hem to neck, from neck to wrist and wrist to neck. Every time, the knife lingers at the throat, brushing across the skin. Kasandra is still when it does, and struggles again when the blade moves away.

Siegan's face is as dark with blood as Kasandra's. Malki gives Kasandra’s hip a shove to make her naked, bleeding body swing gently on the end of the rope. On the return arc, Malki slaps her bare rump and pulls her close against her body while holding eye contact with Siegan. "Enjoying the view, butcher? Or have you seen it all before?" The fury on the General's face could kill, but Malki's manic grin remains fixed. "Are you getting this, my lad?" she asks the youth who holds the camera. "Hold steady now. I'm going to make the big, bad General cry."

From a bag on the floor, Malki pulls out an object the size of a spread hand. One end is dark metal, bootlace-width and folded back on itself many times. The other is an unsightly block of exposed arctronics. "Do you know what this is?" Malki asks, showing the object to Siegan and then, holding it lower to the floor, to Kasandra. Kasandra's eyes go wide, and her chest heaves with her rapid breath. "I've taken apart one of those little stoves," Malki continues in a sharp-edged mockery of a conversational tone. "And this is the heating element."

"Don't you fucking dare," Siegan growls, breaking her silence, as Malki's fingers deftly turn a piece within the arctronics. The metal grows hot in seconds, passing through dull red to an ominous orange glow. Kasandra makes frantic, muffled squawks through the gag. Her eyes are wide and desperate and she shakes her head forcefully. Malki hooks a hand round the suspended woman's knee to stop her from spinning and swinging, and takes her time bringing the hot metal close to the skin. Kasandra squirms. Her eyes roll madly, then lock onto Siegan's.

When the element touches the skin  Kasandra howls. The sound is loud even with her mouth covered: a strangled, nasal scream. She thrashes, arching and twisting, back and forth. Malki holds her firmly, pressing the hot metal into the flesh until the scream peters out for want of air. 

General Siegan fights against the restraints that hold her. Blood trickles from a dozen reopened wounds and wells up around the ropes as she struggles against them. The bolts creak, but they hold firm.

Again and again, the makeshift branding iron is held sizzling against the skin. Kasandra's eyes roll back in her skull. Her tears are a flood. Malki is animated, eyes alight with a savage glint. She leans in close enough that the glow of the metal paints her face with orange highlights.

Siegan does not wail. She does not sob. Her furious scowl does not falter. The lines of anger are etched so deep into her face that they could be wounds themselves. She does not try to plead with her enemy. Her eyes do not soften. But tears spill down her cheeks, and Malki laughs - high and wild and cracking even in victory.

[Next]

[mitchmarnier]

You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to bc I know (and agree with) your ST3 feelings lol but I was going through your ST tag and got emo so,,,, 8. “Well…this is where I live.” for byeler? 🥺 ily btw

Byeler + #8: “Well… this is where I live.”

Author’s note: Logan! This got so long, I apologize lmao. Happy Stranger Things Day to Logan and Logan specifically. This plot has nothing to do with the prompt at all, but I hope you like it anyway! I needed to get my Mike feelings and dwellings OUT of my brain!

Warning: Vague notions of potentially suicidal thoughts (aka references to 1x06- the monster.)

Will didn’t need any sort of supernatural telepathy to know that something was off. He didn’t feel it like goosebumps on the back of his neck or a sudden shaking of his hands. It something deeper, an unsettled feeling in his stomach. A jumping, something just beyond what he was able to describe. Almost like being nervous but… nervous without a cause.

“What’s wrong?” El asked, sitting across from in cafeteria. Dustin, never far behind El these days, sat beside her with his face buried in a large bag of salt and vinegar chips. Despite the worry in his gut, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the thought of the disgusted face and fake gagging Lucas would dramatize at the sight. “You are being quiet today.”

“I’m always quiet.” Will said, slowing pulling the crusts off his tuna sandwich. Dustin pulled a disgusted look at the sandwich of choice, as though he wasn’t currently ripping the bag of chips open and licking at the salt directly from the inside.

El didn’t seem to so much as blink as she sat across the table from him. She was staring him down with unwavering intensity and Will knew what she was going to say before the words had a chance to leave her mouth. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Friends don’t lie.”

He chose to ignore that he and El were a little more than friends at this point. Since the… horrific events at the Starcourt Mall four months ago- the loss of Hopper- El had moved into the Byers House. After three weeks of sharing a bed, and sharing a bedroom since then, Will knew they had a connection that was much deeper than simply being friends. In the deepest, and most innocent of ways, El was his other half. Maybe friends didn’t lie, but Will couldn’t lie. Not to El.

“I just feel weird today.” Will said with half a shrug. “It’s not a big deal. It happens.”

El frowned, eye still narrowed. Will reached across the table and gripped her hand. Her expression softened, and she squeezed Will’s hand back even though he knew it wasn’t comfortable. Even over a year later, Will Byers still struggled to stay warm.

Lucas and Max loudly made their way over then, chattering (arguing? Sometimes it was hard to tell) and Will felt his heart sink when he realized that Mike wasn’t with them. El squeezed his hand once more before pulling away. Will thought maybe he saw her drop under the table towards Dustin, but well- Will wasn’t going to dwell on that. Everybody was entitled to their secrets, he knew all about that.

“Where’s Mike?” Will asked Max as she sat down beside him. Lucas, as predicted, had launched right into an argument with Dustin over the empty bag of chips. Max rolled her eyes at them, and immediately turned to grab fries of Dustin’s tray while he wasn’t paying attention.

“Dunno.” Max said through a mouthful. Will frowned and her could feel El watching them. “Asked to go the bathroom halfway through last period and never came back. Guess he took off.”

“Mike wouldn’t do that.” Will said loyally. Lucas and Dustin’s debate slowed to silence and El stared down at her hands. Max was looking at Will almost sadly. Because Mike had been doing stuff like that lately. 

“Well, where could he go?” Will asked heavily, leaning forward on his elbows. He rested his chin on his tightened fists. “It’s not like he’s going to go home in the middle of the day. If he’s not here, where would he go?”

Nobody had any answer for him, and the table was quiet for a moment before Dustin caught Max attempting to steal more fries from his tray and they quickly fell back into chaos. Will continued to shred the bread into tiny pieces and they tossed the baggie into the garbage as the bell rang for class.

“Hey, Will.” Dustin called after him. Will turned around and frowned. He’d thought he’d been trailing behind the rest of his friends but it seemed while he had been lost in his own thoughts, he’d walked a little faster than he’d thought. Dustin was walking towards him, El by his side. Her arm was definitely linked with Dustin’s, cheek against his shoulder in an all too familiar stance. Will raised his brow at her and El smiled shyly.

Not ready to talk about it. Will could understand that.

“What’s up?” Will asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dustin cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head with the hand that wasn’t currently in El’s grip. “I think I might know where Mike is.” Dustin said, voice low. Will took a step closer to hear him better. “I mostly pretend I.. don’t know he goes there. But before I tell you, there’s something else you need to know first.”

Will looked between Dustin and El, Dustin looking in dead in the face and El staring off slightly in the distance with an angry frown on her face. . “What is it?”

“It’s uhm.” Dustin swallowed roughly. “When you were… missing… something happened. With Mike.” Will felt his breath begin to pick up, and El’s gaze jerked up from the floor to look at him. “Lucas doesn’t know, either. Things were just really crazy, and by the time everything had calmed down, and you were back and El…” A pained expression came over Dustin face and he cleared his throat again, eyes dropping away from Will’s for the first time since he’d started speaking. “Mike didn’t want to bother you guys with it, and I didn’t think anything of it but. I don’t know if he ever got over it.”

Will glanced between Dustin and El again, willing himself to breathe normally. “What is it? Dustin, seriously, just tell me, just-”

“Mike and I ran into Troy at the top of the Quarry cliff.” Dustin spit out. “The same one the police were saying you fell off and drowned. El had made Troy piss himself in front of everybody at your service for upsetting Mike-” El gave a half smirk, and Dustin matched it-”and he was so pissed. He grabbed and he pulled a knife. He threatened to cut my baby teeth out if Mike didn’t jump.”

“Jump off the Quarry?” Will asked, voice feeling stuck in his chest. “That’s…”

“Psychotic?” Dustin said darkly. “Yeah. It is. I tried to beg him not to jump, but-”

“Wait, he jumped?” Will squawked, then looked around wildly. The cafeteria had completely emptied and Will shook his head. “He jumped off the Quarry? How is he even alive? This doesn’t make any sense-”

“I saved him.” El interrupted Will’s panicked rambling. “With my powers. I held above the water and brought him back up to the top. I saved him.”

Will held eye contact with El for a long time, matching pained expressions on their faces. The difference being, El was from memories and Will’s were from horrified images drawn up from his imagination.

“He didn’t so much jump as just…” Dustin pursed his lips. “He just walked up to the ledge and stepped off. One second he was there, and the next he was disappearing into thin air. And Troy was holding me back, I couldn’t get to him if I tried. I thought he was gone, man.”

Will’s stomach was fully in his throat now, hands shaking at his side. El reached out and took Will’s shaking hand with her free one, uniting the three of them in some sort of half circle.

“I saved him.” El repeated firmly. “I saved him. He’s okay.”

Will nodded and closed his eyes. Images flashed in his mind, getting back from the Upside Down to find out Mike had died while he was gone. He wasn’t sure he could imagine anything worse, having to go through everything that came after without him. Or maybe he never would have gotten back at all, without Mike.

“But he still goes there. I think.” Dustin said quietly. “He said something once, after the mall that made me think but I never knew how to bring it up. But if you’re looking for him, that’s where he might be.”

Will nodded and forced himself to return the smile El gave him as they walked out of the cafeteria. Will sighed. Looks like he wasn’t going to be making it to his afternoon classes, either.

He skidded to a stop near the top of the cliff, and he spotted Mike immediately. He was sitting up at the top, legs dangling over the edge. Will walked towards him, slowly to not startled Mike over the edge. There was no El here to catch him, and after Starcourt… she couldn’t even if she needed to.

“Go away Dustin.” Mike said. His voice was deeper than usual, thick with what Will knew must have been tears. Will’s heart clenched in his chest.

“It’s not Dustin, Mike.” Will said softly.

Mike flinched slightly and turned away from the edge, looking up at Will with big, wide eyes. “What are you doing here? Your mom is going to be so freaked when you find out you bailed out in the middle of the day.”

“And yours isn’t?” Will inquired, taking a seat next to Mike with his feet dangling off the edge of the world. “You know what I was thinking the whole way over here?” Will asked and Mike hummed in response, stubbornly not looking at him. “I was thinking that the worst thing I could imagine was if I came back from the Outside Down and you weren’t here.”

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. “Who told you? Dustin or El?”

“Both?” Will said with a forced laughed. “They’re sort of a package deal now, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Mike crinkled his brow, opened his mouth then shut it quickly.  “Why did you come here?” He asked. “You shouldn’t have come. I’m just. My sister calls it agonizing.” He said the last word in higher pitched, but almost cripplingly angry voice.

Will wanted to reach out to hold his hand, but couldn’t. Best friends since kindergarten or not, but Mike wasn’t El and Will couldn’t just hold his hand. “You guys are fighting again?”

“No.” Mike said shortly. “It’s not- this isn’t about anything, I just.” Mike shook his head. “Well.. this is where I live.”

Will frowned. “What?”

Mike squeezed his eyes shut and his bottom lip shook. Will’s hands twitched in his lap, desperate to give comfort he didn’t know how. “It’s like. I didn’t hit the water but I never really came up either. It’s so stupid that after everything we’ve been through, all the monsters and bullshit we’ve seen and been through- it’s the water coming up to greet me I dream about.”

Will through his judgment away as he tossed an arm around Mike’s shoulder. He squeezed Mike tightly and tried to ignore how his best friend shook beside him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Mike said. “I can’t believe I’m crying to you about this like a bitch. You’ve been through so much, all of you have, and I can’t even-”

“It’s not a race, Mike.” Will said softly. “We all went through stuff and we help each other. Okay? We can’t help you if keep it from us.”

“No, I just-“ Mike hands were shaking between his knees and Will rubbed at Mike’s back. “It’s like I went into the Upside Down at all, or like my dad died or my brother or I got kidnapped by Russian spies or-”

“Stop.” Will said sharply. Mike whipped to look at him, guilty. “You’re not any less of a victim then any of us.”

“I am though.” Mike said so quietly that Will almost didn’t hear it.

He grabbed Mike by the shoulders and tugged him to look at him. They sat nose to nose. “Don’t say that. You lead everybody to find me when I disappeared. You watched the girl you love disappear into thin air and spend an entire year being the only person who still thought she was alive.”

“I saw them pull your body from the water.” Mike said, eyes dancing over Will’s face. Will’s heart nearly exploded in his chest. “We all did. Lucas, Dustin, El.. We were all there and they found you. You were dead and I… I didn’t even know how I supposed to keep existing. What I was going to do next.”

Mike swallowed roughly and turned away, looking over the across the almost black water. “That mouthbreather Troy told me to jump and I looked down and I thought. Maybe you were dead. Or you weren’t and we’d never find you and that would be my fault. For chasing El away, for getting rid of the chance to find you.”

Will stared at Mike’s face, mouth half open.

“I don’t even remember jumping, Will.” Mike said in a broken voice. “I just remember thinking you were gonna die, and then the water was coming up to my face.”

Will let out a short, rough breath and grabbed Mike’s face. He kissed him quickly, so quickly that he pulled back before Mike even seemed to have reacted to what had happened.

“I’m right here.” Will said, tears in his eyes. “I’m here because you never gave up on finding me or helping me after you got me back. Okay? So this thoughts, wherever they come from, and whatever they are… we can past them but you have to talk to me. Or El. Or Nancy… somebody… Okay?”

Mike was staring at Will with a dazed expression.

“Okay?” Will pressed him again, squeezing Mike’s shoulders.

“Okay.” Mike breathed out, nodding once. He and Will held eye contact for a long moment before Mike’s nose crinkled up. “Wait. What were saying about Dustin and El?”

Will laughed.

[lizablee]

Choices (Linked Universe) pt 2

Characters derived from the Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ (@linkeduniverse)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Twilight didn’t need his wolf senses to find the right place.

Wind had left a clear track as he struggled to get help. It led to a plateau that sloped dramatically west to the sea, with a long rocky incline to the north and gentle hills leading to a bay in the south. The signs of a battle were clear. He found the remains of four Stalmoblins, a shattered sword and loose arrows. Wind’s shield, punctured by an arrow, was abandoned near the cliff’s edge next to a mangled tree, scarred by a hookshot. 

Twilight could smell blood washed into the sand.

The other heroes arrived at a run. Warrior and Sky hurried to join the wolf at the cliff, skidding through the wet, sandy earth. Time and Legend followed, moving carefully down the slope. The heroes stared down into the sea. The night was so dark that even their torchlight seemed to absorb into the air. Only flashes of lightning showed the shape of the ocean below.

“The fall isn’t that far,” Sky said hopefully. “I can’t see any rocks at the base of the cliff.”

“We can’t see anything at the base of the cliff.” Legend said bitterly. “Wind’s right. This is a recovery mission.”

The wolf snarled, running away into the night. Time shot Legend a look.

“Wind is in shock. He could see the base of the cliff no better than we can. There’s a chance Wild is alive down there, and we’re going to take it.” Time nodded to the cliff. “We can rappel down from these trees. The best swimmers among us will find him and pull him out.”

“What if he didn’t fall straight down? He could be anywhere.” Warrior pointed out..

“Maybe he used his paraglider,” Sky suggested. “If he was falling, it would make sense to try and glide as close to shore as possible. Some of us should go to the bay in the south and work our way back from there.”

Twilight emerged from the darkness, strapping clawshots to his forearms. “I’m a strong swimmer. I’ll go down the cliff.”

“I’ll stay here and cover you from above. More of these may still rise.” Time nudged the Stalmoblin remains with his boot.

Warrior nodded. “I will take the beach. Sky, you in?”

Sky shook his head. “No, let me dive down. I’m a strong swimmer too.” He handed Time his torch and set about strapping on his clawshots.

Warrior straightened his shoulders. “Guess it’s just you and me, Legend. Let’s go.” The pair took off without hesitation, torches bobbing away into the darkness.

Twilight and Sky wasted no time. The storm raged as they made their way down the cliffs, each abseiling down from a different twisted tree. The tree mangled by Wind’s hookshot was left untouched. Time sat at the edge of the cliff, watching the young heroes climb down and listening for the barest whisper of danger.

Twilight shot his clawshot into a tree trunk, abseiling down as far as the device could go before switching to a closer tree trunk. Sky took a swifter route, firing his clawshots diagonally across the cliff face and zig-zagging down, bounding rapidly down the sheer face. Twilight thought his movements were oddly captivating. Sky jumped without hesitation, as though he had no fear of falling. Twilight steeled himself, dropping faster down his chain, pushing himself away from the cliff with his feet until-

There was nothing beneath them. He was hanging. Twilight kicked, scrambling for the cliff face, but it was too late. He’d failed to look where he was going and had dropped below a hidden precipice. He looked up, but could only see the overhang he dangled from and the flickering sky. He looked down. There was nothing but breaking waves below. He started retracting the clawshot slowly. Tiny shards of rock rained down on him as the chain ground at the cliff’s edge. With a jerk, it caught in the rock. Twilight let out a curse.

Twilight looked to the north cliff face and could see Sky, who had run out of trees to jump between and was lowering himself into the swollen sea, staring into the waves, anxiously trying to spot a hint of blue.

He took a deep breath and examined his situation. What would the old man do? Probably watch where he was putting his feet in the first place and not end up dangling over a pitch black sea, with an overhang that meant there was no easy way up. He squinted at the overhang, trying to determine how deep it went. Maybe it was the darkness, but it almost seemed to go on forever…

Twilight gaped. It’s a cave mouth. Wild could be anywhere within, and in total darkness. He felt like throwing up. This is impossible.

Something sparked in the cave, a crackling blue and yellow light. Twilight gasped. It had to be him!

“Wild! We’re here!” he shouted. A screech echoed back to him. The light bloomed and crackled, zig-zagging in the darkness towards him. Twilight gasped, pulling his legs up in a crunch just in time to avoid a burst of electricity. “No way,” he breathed.

The yellow lizalfos darted rapidly back and forward across the sand, dancing foot to foot. It brandished a wicked looking boomerang. Twilight panted, swinging like a pendulum. Keeping his legs up had kept him just out of range of the blast, but he was as vulnerable as they came. He looked at his second clawshot. He could shoot it at the monster, but if he hit its horn he’d shock himself through the chain and fall into the water. Nothing would save him there. The lizalfos squawked impatiently, charging up for another strike. Twilight tried desperately to retract the chain, but it only crunched harder into the rock. 

“What’s happening?” shouted Sky, bobbing in the waves. The lizalfos perked up. Twilight hurriedly waved him off.

“Look at me, stupid lizard, not him!” he yelled, kicking his legs wildly. The lizard redirected its attention to him. He saw the signs and pulled his legs in tight.

The blast came so close to Twilight that felt his toes tingle. Sky cried out to him. There was no way he could have missed that burst of light. The lizalfos retreated into the cavern, sparking. Twilight could see the electricity in its horn reflecting off its boomerang. It raised the weapon, poising to throw it. Twilight saw his chance.

The weapon flashed through the air towards him. Twilight was prepared. He shot his spare Clawshot at the weapon, snatching it from the air. “YES!” He whooped, retracting the clawshot and hefting the weapon in victory. Now he was armed!

A ball of spit crashed into him, knocking him into a wild swing and sending the boomerang flying from his hand into the ocean. “Noooo,” he moaned. He flailed, trying to get the swing under control. The lizalfos crowed, swimming rapidly for the discarded weapon. As it entered the open water, it looked to the side and let out a squawk.

Sky was bobbing in the waves, holding his sword to the sky. Light seemed to bleed down the blade before bursting into a bright glow. Sky roared as he cleaved the weapon down into the water. Light scythed through the waves, blasting aside a brilliant sea spray. The slash carved into the lizalfos, splitting it from shoulder to tail. It went down in a bright burst of electricity, crackling as it sank into the deep water. 

Sky looked up at Twilight, his eyes desperate. “Did you see it?” he demanded.

“The lizalfos?” Twilight was confused. Sky shook his head as he struggled to sheathe his sword underwater.

“The shape, there was a shape!” he shouted. “Straight down! GO!”

Twilight understood. He disconnected the broken clawshot with a snap, dropping into the waves. The shock of the cold nearly drove the air from his lungs, but he fought it, swimming down hard. He flailed, feeling blindly for anything under the water. His wide open eyes burned from the salt.

It’s useless. I’m blind down here. He growled, biting back his terror. I can’t see like this.

The change came so naturally that he barely had to think. Suddenly the water was almost bright, every shape flowing with velvet soft light. He kicked his paws, trying to use his tail as a rudder. This body may be useless for diving, but these eyes were perfect.

He saw the body of the lizalfos, weakly sparking. He turned around and scanned the sea floor. A school of fish swam by. Just beneath them…

A blue tunic. Wild. Twilight let out a bark from his burning lungs. His breath bubbled into the waves. He was already swimming hard as his vision faded. His fingers brushed fabric, and he gripped tight, twisting upwards and kicking for the surface.

He broke through with a gasp, sucking in air. The waves crashed over him, driving him under. He wrapped his arms around his friend, clutching harder, kicking upward with all his strength. This time he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, pulling him to the surface. He burst through again, choking. Sky dragged the still form of Wild from his arms, pulling him towards the cave.

“What are you doing?!” Twilight choked. “We have to get him up to Time!”

Sky said nothing, his head bobbing above and below the waves as he struggled to bear Wild’s weight. Twilight swam after him, his movements clumsy.

“Why?” he begged. The ocean swelled, and a wave rushed through like a prayer, driving the three heroes onto the sand. Sky dragged Wild’s prone form as far back as he could before collapsing. Twilight crawled through the darkness, feeling for his friend’s face. His fingers brushed over Wild’s forehead, catching in a tangle of hair. He brushed it aside frantically, touching his cheeks. He’s cold.

No.

Sky sobbed somewhere in the dark. Twilight’s hands shook. He put his ear to Wild’s mouth. Nothing.

No!

“Come on, you idiot.” he muttered, fumbling in the dark for Wild’s hand. He pressed his first two fingers hard on Wild’s wrist.

There it was. A heartbeat.

“He’s alive,” he exclaimed, dizzy with relief. “Sky, help me turn him.” The pair flipped their friend to the side. Twilight pried open his mouth, and seawater bubbled out.

A few tense moments passed. Twilight felt like his heart might burst.

Suddenly, Wild convulsed, gagging. Sky and Twilight acted quickly, lifting him from the sand. He coughed harshly, seawater gushing from his lungs onto the sand. His body jerked as he choked up a last mouthful of water and sucked in a long, rattling breath. Sky murmured soothing words, rubbing Wild’s back as he drank oxygen into his starved lungs. Twilight held his friend until his coughing died down, then laid him on his side to catch his breath. He drew back, feeling numb. After a moment, he leaned in and touched the boy’s head.

“You with us?” he asked softly. After a moment, a weak nod gave him his answer. Twilight let out a breathy chuckle. “Welcome back.”

[angelofthequeers]

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

THERE IS FAN ART. @vitaliciouscreations drew Reine Nuit's head and I LOVE how it's just how I imagined her looking! Go and check it out and support this awesome artist!

Part 3 | Part 5

“So, wait, why exactly is her Lucky Charm so…weird?” Alya says from where she’s sitting cross-legged on her bed and finishing off the last of her homework, while Plagg stuffs himself with Camembert cheese nearby.

“Tikki’s the kwami of creation,” Plagg says. “Creation does weird shit. At least we’re pretty straightforward – wham, bam, take it down.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“And that’s why you weren’t picked to be Ladybug.” Plagg’s shit-eating grin makes Alya’s eye twitch, but she chooses to ignore it for the sake of her newfound superhero status. Who knows if annoying the tiny god creature will screw with her powers? “Ladybugs have to be quick on their feet and be able to make plans out of the weirdest circumstances. Adapt to the situation.”

“I’m quick on my feet!” Alya protests.

“They also have to be imaginative and creative,” Plagg says loudly. Alya rolls her eyes at him. “You’re impulsive and charge without thinking, even if you’ll get flattened for it. That’s why you got me. We protect the Ladybugs, so they can fix the crap that the akumas cause.”

“So, what, like brains and brawn?” Alya says. “Both equally as important for different reasons?”

“Exactly!” Plagg gulps down more cheese. “And we both know which one you are.”

“Alya?” There’s a knock on Alya’s door before she can strangle Plagg, powers be damned. Plagg dives out of sight just in time; Otis opens the door, then wrinkles his nose. “Phew! Since when d’you like that stuff?”

“…Acquired taste?” Alya says. She picks up a crumb of Camembert and pops it into her mouth, struggling not to gag and grimace at the disgusting taste that explodes across her tongue. “Mmm!”

Otis just blinks. “…Okay. Well, Nora’s plans got cancelled, so she’s staying home with you and the twins. Just thought I’d let you know. Your mother and I will be back later tonight.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Alya says. Otis shoots her one more suspicious look before retreating from her room, and Plagg emerges as soon as it’s safe.

“I expect compensation for that cheese,” he says, diving back into his stink nest as Alya coughs and spits out the gooey bit of cheese in her mouth.

“It was one crumb to cover for you in the future!” Alya says, downing half her water bottle in one go.

“Doesn’t matter. Camembert is sacred.”

Alya rolls her eyes. Then she grabs Plagg, ignoring his squawked protests, and stuffs him in her shirt pocket before scooping up her phone and heading out into the living room.

“I’m going for a walk,” she says. Nora, who’s stretching while Ella and Etta watch TV, just grunts, so Alya makes her escape before she’s roped into doing chores or helping Nora “practice” for her next match, aka fulfil her sisterly duties of being a punching bag. Once outside, she walks around to the next block over and then ducks into the first alley she finds.

“Why would you separate me and my beautiful cheese?” Plagg moans.

“Because I’m gonna take a bit of time to practice without having to fight for my life,” Alya says. “Plus, I don’t have to listen to you if you’re stuck in the ring. Plagg, claws out!”

The transformation once again washes over her with its cold green power. It’s just as thrilling as the first time turning into Reine Nuit, and she can’t help her giggle when she looks down at her black leather suit, the green bits almost glowing in the evening dimness. She spots a nearby building, takes a deep breath to psyche herself up, then takes a running start and tries to leap to the roof without the aid of her baton. No knowing when she’ll be left weaponless, right?

As it turns out, her super abilities also extend to strengthening her leg muscles, because she’s easily able to make half the jump, then bound off the brick to reach the top. She whoops and punches the air and spins on the spot giddily, shrieking, “I’m a superhero!”

A ringing sound suddenly emanates from her baton, and she looks down to see the green cat’s paw on the end of it flashing. With a frown, she presses the paw with her thumb, and she gasps when a small rectangular screen pops out, then flickers to life to reveal Ladybug’s face.

“Ladybug?” she exclaims. Ladybug waves.

“Hi! Uh…I was just testing out my yo-yo. I take it you’re out practicing with your powers as well?”

“You know it!” Reine Nuit says. “Wait, so our weapons are also phones? How cool is this?”

Ladybug grins. “Since we’re both out, maybe we should meet up and talk in person? How about the Eiffel Tower?”

“Sure thing! See you there!” Reine Nuit presses the cat paw to hang up, causing the screen to retract back into her baton, and then she starts to leap and vault her way in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. Just like last time, the wind whistles through her hair, making her ponytail stream out behind her in a brown bush, and she can’t help the laughter that escapes her as she flips off a building, extends her staff as far as it’ll go, then vaults herself through the air and uses her staff to catch in one of the gaps in the Tower’s interlacing metal structure.

“This is like a dream come true!” she whoops, bounding up the Tower with a combination of her enhanced abilities and her staff. When she finally flips herself onto the same platform at the top where she and her partner had fought Stoneheart, she realises that she’s not alone; Ladybug has gotten here first, watching her with a small grin.

“From the sounds of it, you’re having a lot of fun,” Ladybug comments when Reine Nuit stops next to her, panting.

“Are you kidding?” Reine Nuit says. “This is – like – oh my god, all my life I’ve wanted to be a superhero! And now not only do I learn that this stuff is real, but I actually get to be one!”

Ladybug laughs and sits down, crossing her legs neatly. Reine Nuit follows suit, hugging her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry I was late to Stoneheart the second time,” Ladybug says. “I…well, I nearly gave up. I didn’t purify the akuma, and everything was worse, and…I was convinced that whoever’s behind these earrings made a horrible mistake. I was going to give them to a friend, until I realised that I had to step up and do the right thing.”

“You nearly –?” Reine Nuit shakes her head. “Are you kidding? I’ve only fought with you twice and I can already tell you that I don’t want anyone else as a partner! The way you told Hawkmoth off like that? And how you talked to Paris? Oh my god, you’re, like, my idol.”

“Stop that!” Ladybug nudges Reine Nuit. “Don’t idolise me. We’re partners – we’re equals. I meant it when I said that we did it.”

“Well, that Lucky Charm just proves that you’re Ladybug,” Reine Nuit says. “I asked my kwami why you get weird stuff and he said that part of being Ladybug is being creative and imaginative and adaptable. If you weren’t any good as Ladybug, there’s no way you’d have made that whole plan in the stadium out of a wetsuit! Or up here with the parachute!”

“Really?” Ladybug tilts her head. Her blue eyes are dark in the evening light, and Reine Nuit once again finds herself questioning just how straight she really is. Not that she’s thought of herself as straight since she was ten and first heard of Majestia, to be fair. “My kwami never told me that.”

“Oh, mine was super rude about it,” Reine Nuit says. “He’s a bit of a douche. But apparently, I’m the brawn and you’re the brains. My power’s meant to work with yours to make sure that you pull your Lucky Charm off.”

“So, we balance each other out, then,” Ladybug says with a small smile. “That makes sense.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, gazing out at the sea of lights that is Paris at night. The sight is nearly as mesmerising as her partner’s Miraculous Ladybug, although she’s not sure anything could come close to that beauty.

“I think we should talk about our identities,” Ladybug says. “It’s bound to come up.”

“I know you said that we have to keep them a secret,” Reine Nuit says. “And as much as I’d love to know who my partner is, I agree. The more people know who you are, the more chance there is of villains finding out, so the more danger your friends and family are in.” God, if anything happened to her parents or her sisters – or her new best friend Marinette…

“Not just that,” Ladybug says. “We’re partners. I get the feeling that we’re gonna become pretty close, since we’ll be working together to take down this Hawkmoth. And if I know who you are, it’ll make it harder for me to put my feelings aside and focus on the job when you’re in danger. At least by seeing you like this, it’s easier to tell myself that you can take care of yourself.”

“That’s…actually a good point,” Reine Nuit admits. “I didn’t even think of that, but you’re totally right.”

“Of course I am,” Ladybug says with a mischievous little smile. She sobers and looks back out at Paris. “I still can’t believe someone thinks I’m the best one for this job. It feels like…”

“A dream?” Reine Nuit says.

“Yeah. A dream. I keep expecting to wake up and find that it’s the first day of school and I was just having a really vivid dream.”

“Mood,” Reine Nuit says. She hums when a thought occurs to her. “Should we – I dunno – patrol the city every so often or something?”

“Patrol?” Judging by the way her forehead creases, the thought probably hadn’t even crossed Ladybug’s mind. “What for? We’ll know when an akuma pops up.”

“Who says we have to fight just akumas?” Reine Nuit says. “We’re superheroes. Our job is to fight crime. We can totally practice our skills on normal bad guys.”

“Huh. That’s not a bad idea. We do need to make sure that we can hold our own against akumas. And it would let us develop a working relationship with the public and the police.”

Reine Nuit snorts. “I still say you shoulda let me go that one for what he said to you. Honestly, like he’s never made a mistake before, especially when he was new!”

“He was scared and facing something totally new,” Ladybug says. “Just let it slide, okay?”

“Fine. Only ‘cause it’s you. So…what nights should we patrol? Obviously not every night, since I’ve got schoolwork and all…”

“Same here,” Ladybug says. “Every second or third night?”

“Should we really be that predictable?”

“Only at first. Just until we find our feet. Then we can organise a more random schedule.”

“True.” Reine Nuit sighs and then jumps to her feet. “I should get going. I told my family I was just taking a walk. The last thing I need is for them to think I’ve been kidnapped or something.”

“Yeah, my mum will probably be up to check on me soon,” Ladybug says. She tosses her yo-yo out into the city until it latches onto something that Reine Nuit can’t see, then smiles and waves at Reine Nuit. “See you next time, partner.”

“Later, angel bug,” Reine Nuit blurts out. She can’t help it; against the blanket of Parisian lights, Ladybug really does look like a softly glowing angel. Ladybug blinks. “Uh – sorry, that was probably inappropriate.”

“I don’t mind it,” Ladybug says. The corner of her mouth turns up, and she says, “Bye, pretty kitty,” and swings off. Reine Nuit stares after her, transfixed, until she shakes her head to snap out of it.

“Right. Home.” She starts to leap down the Tower, praying that she can get home before Nora gets too worried and starts asking questions.

[ducktracy]

138. porky the rain-maker (1936)

release date: august 1st, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: joe dougherty (porky, porky’s father), tedd pierce (narrator), earle hodgins (salesman)

the first cartoon to have a narrator! tex in particular would play around with narrators, whether it be in his travelogues or to serve as important plot devices like in the village smithy. this is also the first cartoon where porky is considerably slimmed down—he’d fluctuate weight, especially contrasted with tashlin’s large interpretation for him, but especially with the addition of ub iwerks and eventually bob clampett in 1937, porky shifted onto a diet, tashlin the last one to slim him down after porky’s double trouble. here, porky and his farmer father are in the midst of a treacherous drought. porky spends their remaining money on a selection of pills rumored to bring on any weather event at will. however, trouble strikes when the farm animals accidentally eat the miracle pills instead.

tedd pierce fills us in as we open to a long, beautiful pan of a farm. an overlay of visible heatwaves paired with his commentary indicates that we’re in the midst of a severe drought. “valuable crops scorched by blistering heatwave! shortage of feed threatens farmers with ruin—their only hope is rain!” zoom in on an apple tree that wilts in an instant. “uh-oh, looks like there’ll be no shade—“ a chorus of hilariously dissonant voices join in, singing the classic “—under the old apple tree.” all of the crops suffer from the heat: apples shrivel up in seconds, corn stalks are stripped of their contents... we even hone in on some more predictable yet slightly rewarding puns, such as water boiling inside watermelons or eggplants cracking open and frying eggs on the ground.

porky and his father observe the drought solemnly, porky’s father (dougherty once more, only speaking in his natural voice, stutter and all) lamenting “worry, worry, worry.” a clamor from various farm animals calls over their attention, and they approach the barn to see what all the fuss is about.

as the narrator implied, there’s been a lack of feed thanks to the drought. no crops to sell, no money to make, no feed to buy. the animals are none too pleased, forming their own union and going on strike. haughty hens strut along, one carrying a sign reading “NO FEED — NO EGGS!”, the hen behind her matching with a simple “DITTO!”. a disgruntled horse is next, “NO FEED NO WORK” plastered on his side. a cow marches along with her nose in the air, her udders protected by a barrel that reads “CLOSED SHOP”—a very amusing gag that works both ways. of course, closed shop implies that she isn’t giving out any milk, but it’s also a labor union term. essentially, only those in the union can work at the shop/place of business. and, of course, only the cow can give the milk. how can you have milk if you don’t have any udders to milk? if you didn’t know tex liked gags, you do now.

despairingly, porky’s father reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sock, complete with a clasp at the top. he opens it, stuttering “here, my son. take our last dollar—“ he fishes in the sock for a dollar coin, “—and buy them animals some feed.” porky accepts the coin and heads on into town.

just as he’s about to stroll into the general store for some feed, a sharp voice catches his ear. in the middle of town proudly stands a merchant on his stage, selling a product to the congregation around him. the sign behind him tellingly reads DR. QUACK’S FAMOUS RAIN PILLS — $1.00. sure enough, dr. quack is ranting and raving: “now friends, i’m here today to advertise my famous rain pills!” earle hodgins does a wonderful job of the salesman, his lines full of energy and greedy passion. he lures his audience in, asking if they’re fed up with their dying crops thanks to this treacherous drought. he holds up his box of pills, assuring that they can bring instant rain. “each and every one of these capsules is guaranteed to make it rain where and when you want it!”

the cost? as the sign behind him advertises: a dollar. clever execution and timing as little porky pops his head up in the front row of the crowd at mere mention of the cost. to make the deal even sweeter, anyone who purchases a rain pill gets a free box of assorted pills with all the weather events you can think of. rain! snow! ice! lightning! thunder! tornadoes! earthquakes! fog! wind! you name it, it’s there in that measly little box! porky is absolutely enraptured, hoisting himself up to lean on the platform so he doesn’t miss a single beat. wonderful comedic timing as the salesman seamlessly pauses his long-winded rant just to shoo porky away, nudging him with his cane and instructing “don’t lean on the platform, son, you bother me.”

porky obeys, still taking in every word as the salesman blabbers “i’m going to pass out... these umbrellas!” (more fantastic timing and a great gag), distributing umbrellas to the crowd to showcase a demonstration. once everyone is armed with their umbrellas, dr. quack stuffs a rain pill in a little tube and spits it into the air. the pill is propelled into the air and explodes.

sure enough, the clouds grow heavy and dark, real rain showering upon every citizen in the square. porky is just beside himself as he sticks his hand out to feel the raindrops—“oh boy! real rain!” dr. quack eyes his audience, asking “now who’s gonna be first to buy one of these rain pills?” zero hesitation or remorse as porky fishes in his pocket and thrusts his father’s last earnings into the greedy hands of dr. quack, who hands him the fated pandora’s box. porky heads back to the farm, ready to knock the socks off his father.

porky’s father paces along, still muttering “worry, worry, worry” all the way. his face brightens up as he sees his loyal little boy marching towards him with the feed he so diligently went to the store to buy. feed in the shape of a box. with pills inside the box. rightfully so, porky’s father is furious. “PILLS!? i told ya to get FEED, not PILLS!” porky, unable to decipher why his father is so angry, ducks as his father tosses the useless box away.

the contents of the box scatter all across the farm. one of the picketing hens stumbles upon a spare pill, a lightning pill. mistaking it as feed, the hen happily gobbles down her food and grins contentedly at the audience. however, her delight is quickly put to a stop as volts of incomprehensible electricity jolt through her body and electrocute her. she flops to the ground, winded, and attempts to run for her life, squawking along the way. it’s too late—she turns into a literal lightning bolt as she tries to outrun from herself. the entire gag, from the contented grin to initial jolting reaction to turning into a lightning bolt in the midst of a frenzy would be reused in porky’s duck hunt, with daffy and an electric eel substituting the chicken and her lightning pill.

elsewhere, the picketing horse stumbles upon a fog pill and wastes no time ingesting it, too. a cloud of fog grows around his stomach, and in no time his surroundings are shrouded in mist. a horsefly (literally a horse with fly wings, which would serve as a minor plot point in a similar tex porky cartoon milk and money) comments into a microphone “altitude 10,000 feet. no visibility. ceiling: 0.” the gag is amusing, but slightly incomprehensible and lacks a smooth transition. enough to get the gist, though. meanwhile, a curious goose gobbles down both a thunder and wind pill, its body shuddering and shaking around as it regurgitates artificial wind from its body, blowing around aimlessly.

porky and his father observe in steely silence, his father glowering and sulking. helpful is porky, who finally pipes up with “there’s a pill there that’ll make real rain, pa.” porky’s father freezes. he whips his head around: “well why didn’t ya say so? where is it?” he crawls through the wooden fence and gets down on all fours, searching on his hands and knees for the fated miracle pill.

spotting a cyclone pill, porky reaches out to grab it. unfortunately for him, a chicken swoops in and swallows it before he can retrieve it. porky’s predictably peeved, glowering at the chicken, but his anger turns into awe as the chicken is whisked away into her own personal tornado. things finally settle down, and all that’s left is a nude chicken with a single tail feather. she glares at her feather, but it too turns into a mini cyclone and flies away. hilariously deadpan, she turns to the camera and gasps “well, imagine that.” not at all unlike an oswald short tex worked on in 1933, the zoo, a bear’s fur reduced to shreds thanks to a swarm of hungry moths. instead of screaming or overreacting, the bear also mildly states “well, imagine that.”

never mind the cyclone pill—porky spots another pill scattered on the ground, an earthquake pill. he reaches for it, and yet again another hungry chicken swallows the pill. this time an earthquake erupts in her body. amusing incongruity as the hen stalks away with her beak held high in the air, interrupted by frantic bursts of spasms and shakes. she clings to a tree for support, the entire landscape around her shaking. when the earthquake has finally paused, she ogles at the camera in disbelief.

porky and his father continue to search for the remaining pills, crawling on their hands and knees. porky finds something in the distance and trots over to it. sure enough, the fated rain pill is right in his reach! surely nothing can go wrong now, right?

wrong! the goose who had swallowed the thunder and wind pills is still aimlessly blowing around the farm uncontrollably. it knocks right into porky, tossing both of them to the ground. nevertheless, the goose is unscathed, seldom hesitating as it gobbles up the rain pill. porky ever so calmly and politely wrings the goose’s neck, calling it a varmint. he opens the goose’s beak and peers inside. no sign of the pill. frustrated, porky grabs the head of the goose and slams it on the ground, the goose settling back to normal as its head bounces back up. sweet, mild mannered porky!

his animal abuse may bring about some good after all. the goose, now shaken up, regurgitates the rain pill, sending it flying into the air. with a familiar snap, the pill explodes. could it be? yes! it could! the clouds darken and dump buckets of real, genuine, miraculous rain. all of the farm animals (and porky’s dad) crowd together, all sticking out their extremities just to feel the rain, reveling in it and soaking up every single last drop. apple trees grow back to size, corn stalks are nice and hearty again, all of the crops spouting 5x the amount of goods than what they used to. a gag that would be reused in many cartoons (especially and situationally in swooner crooner), a hen eagerly runs inside of her coop and lays an astounding mound of eggs, poking her head out of the coop and sighing in relief.

the joyous celebration continues, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. good times are here at last! nary a problem in sight, only one little caveat. just one teensy little issue that needs taking care of... the animals still have the pills inside them. the celebration is cut short as all the animals jolt, jitter, shudder, fly, you name it. even porky and his father feel the effects. the false sense of security is pulled off strongly and coyly. everyone poses defiantly at the camera, a happy cartoon close sting... and then silence except for an array of sound effects as the pills take their course. tex plays around with the iris out as the goose blows itself out of the iris and into the black void, where rain is still pouring down. the goose frantically pounds against the black wall, squawking frantically. the iris opens one last time as porky yanks the goose inside for good.

a very amusing and creative cartoon for sure. milk and money would follow a similar route—porky needs to help his father earn money for the farm, and hilarity ensues (and there’s also a horsefly involved.) i like that one a bit more, as i feel it’s a stronger cartoon. this one came off more as a showcase of gags than anything, not having too much plot, but it was still definitely there. some gags were certainly funnier than others, but this still remains as a relatively funny short. the ending is particularly amusing, with the coy “all’s well that ends well” poses of the gang and the orchestral swell, interrupted by the natural elements inside each animal. the first appearance of porky’s father, too, who would make a handful of appearances, even during the mel blanc era with porky’s poppa in 1938. not tex’s best cartoon, but certainly watchable and amusing. worth a potential watch!

link!

[thunderheadfred]

My OTP is Julian x Pirate Ship

My head spins, throbbing… and I realize Doctor Devorak is talking to himself.

“…following me, is that it? Wanted to take a swing at me for that silly little break-in? A round of fisticuffs? Seems rather foolish.”

I dare to peer up into his face. Deep-set eyes beneath twisted brows, a hawk-sharp nose and clever, sneering lips.  Maybe I’ve seen his face parodied one too many times, but the mask is too familiar.  I feel no revulsion, no fear. Devorak almost seems like a caricature of himself, like he’s playing his own part for laughs… and badly.

His one good eye returns my gaze, swiveling over me toe to tip, drinking me down. The room sways anew, and I shake my head. I can’t think…

Watching me, he audibly palms his stubble. “Hmm… Nothing quite so foolish as walking off the end of a dock in the middle of the night. Whilst wearing a silky little negligee. And carrying nothing but this…”

Grimacing, he drops a familiar pouch into my lap. My tarot deck slides unharmed from the warded leather, whispering with relief. The deck is bone dry, safe and sound, every card accounted for. All I can do is stare.

Devorak kneels in front me, spitting out a low, pained growl. All of his gangly joints pop and crack when he moves, like an old log being eaten by a fire. He grips my face in his hands, rattling me. Up close, I can see all the details, the truth... the cards re-opening my eyes. Cold water runs down his hands and onto my face. He’s freezing wet, shivering, pale. Blue and bloodless, his lips tremble.

He didn’t attack me at all… did he? How… how did I get here?

In my lap, the cards get rowdy. They whisper and jeer, begging for attention, but the more I try to listen, the less sense they make. I close my hand over the deck, shushing the chaos. Devorak is talking to me, barely audible over the din…

“Just answer the question, fortune-teller…” His voice goes flat, surrendering all his previous bluster. “What did you think you would find down there at the bottom of it all?”

His rough thumb twitches on my chin, grazing my lip. One voice rings out from the deck, one insistent, squawking cry…

“The cure.” I whisper.

Devorak flinches and steps away. He opens and closes his mouth, shakes his head, fails to breathe.

Some murderer, this. He’s a twig in a high wind, bracing to snap. Looking impossibly frail, the Doctor of Death wheezes, raising a bony hand to his throat. “What are you?”

“A shopkeep,” I say, suddenly exhausted.  “What are you?”

“I’m. I—I’m the man who killed the Count of Vesuvia. The villain himself, Doctor Dev—”

“No, Ilya…”

Yes, Ilya. The cards sing victoriously. I can almost hear them clapping. I shrug into it, letting them guide me. “You’re always were a bad actor.”

Bonelessly, the villainous Doctor Devorak sinks into the chair next to mine, his eyes glued to my face. Utterly transfixed, he shuffles and fumbles blindly for something beneath the table. Eventually he produces a mostly-empty bottle of amber spirits and two sturdy glasses. After another round of wide-eyed fumbling, he retrieves a soggy blunderbuss from the back of his trousers. He tips the water out of the barrel, then throws the weapon onto the table between us. The powder is damp, the gun temporarily useless. As far as threats go, it’s weak.

The cards whisper again, and I stifle a laugh. “Oh please. You’ve never killed anyone. At least not on purpose.”

His eyebrows slide up, up, up, and vanish beneath his dripping curls, kidnapped.

Hypnotized now, he takes up the bottle and loosens the cork one-handed, then pours out two equally generous drinks. He doesn’t wait, just clinks his glass to mine, cheering nothing in particular before drinking deep.

It must be rough stuff, because he gags and shudders head to foot. Wiping his mouth, coughing so hard his eyes water, he chokes out a disbelieving laugh. “Alright… alright… now let me try one.”

He nudges the other glass towards me, the barest hint of a grin sneaking back onto his face. “This isn’t your first time on a boat, is it?”

[xinghai]

Writing blurb for Misadventure May day 7 (1487 words)

Sybil sat on the desk of their inn room. The space was dark, with the curtains drawn and her cloak covering them for good measure. The only light came from the crack under the door. Her leg bounced up and down as she stared into space.

She knew she should sleep more, but she couldn’t. They’d been at the capital for a week now, with Reise gathering info by day and her by night. They’d come up short though. No one knew about the cause of the attack. No new attacks, no clues, and no Sam. She didn’t know what to do.

The click of the lock snapped her gaze back to the door, and she stood up as Reise walked in. “Anything new?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Not really. A farmer asked for my help, so I’ll be doing that tomorrow.”

Sybil frowned, opened her mouth, and then thought better of it. It wasn’t like they were getting anywhere right now. Nothing wrong with a little detour. “What do we need to do?”

“We-? Oh.” Reise put up his hands. “You don’t have to come. They just needed help with some missing sheep.”

“I don’t mind, and having help would hurt,” she said.

He thought it over for a moment and then smiled. After weeks of traveling with her, he knew that look in her eye. “Alright, if you’re sure. Their farm’s just outside the city. I’m supposed to be there in the morning.”

She nodded. “You better rest up then.”

Reise eyed her. She looked like death. Aside from the undeath thing. Her eyes were bloodshot and her clothes unchanged from the day before. “You look like you could use some rest too,” he commented.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll rest after we find something.”

Reise sighed. “Sybil, we don’t know how long that could be. You should sleep while you can.”

She shrugged. “I’ll try, but it isn’t that easy.”

He breathed a sigh and nodded. “I know.” He hung his jacket over the rickety wooden chair and put a hand on her shoulder. “I had a teacher once. They used to sing to my siblings and I when we were being rowdy. Never failed to make us fall asleep.” The corner of his mouth curved into a smile at the memory. “I can’t put the magic in it, but I can sing some of their songs if you’d like.”

Sybil looked at him curiously. As personable as he was, she realized that he’d never talked about his past. Then again, she hadn’t really asked. She sighed and laid on one of the beds. “Sure. Looks like we could both use it.”

He sat on the edge of her bed, smile in his eyes. “Yeah. Now let’s see if I can remember the words…”

———

Sybil let out a yawn. They’d woken up far too early, though she’d been able to catch a few winks of rest. “So what’s up with the sheep?” she asked. They were almost to the farm, which lay on the plains towards the outskirts of town. Small white shapes dotted the fields around them, and the skies were blue overhead.

“Sheep have been disappearing in broad daylight. The rancher hasn’t been able to find any trace of them.”

“And no sign of the thief?” Sybil asked.

Before Reise could reply, screams rang out from up ahead. The two exchanged a glance and ran towards the sound. What they found stopped then dead in their tracks. A colorful creature stood over a person. It tilted its head, tongue sticking out of its mouth, as it considered him. It was easily bigger than a horse, all scales and feathers. Sheep fled the scene, baaing in alarm.

“That… definitely doesn’t belong here,” Sybil said. She drew her blades and Reise followed suit. Hearing the scrape of metal, the creature turned towards them. It made a strange clicking noise and scuttled away into the field. Sybil launched herself over the fence and sprinted after it. Reise helped the rancher to their feet and then ran after them.

The creature moved surprisingly fast for its size, but it was no match for Sybil. She tackled it, and the two went rolling in a bundle of feathers, scales, and limbs. When they stopped, she had her daggers raised over its head.

Before she could strike, the creature lashed out with its sticky tongue, latching onto her cloak. Faster than the eye could see, it pulled the red cloth into its mouth. Sybil staggered back, hissing as the sunlight struck her. The creature spit the cloak onto the ground and scrambled away.

Reise stopped by her side. “Sybil, you alright?!”

She reached for her cloak, grimacing in disgust, and pulled it over her. “Got sunburned, but yeah, I’m right and dandy. Now let’s catch that-“ She looked at the field in front of them. There were sheep running about, but no sign of the creature.

“Where-?”

Sybil’s question was answered with the flapping of wings. They looked over, but there were only clear skies there. Wait, no. Clear skies and, she squinted, a bit of red crystal speeding off.

She pointed. “Reise, there! I’m going after it.”

It took him a moment, but he caught sight of the crystal. He put a hand on her arm. “Hold on, you’ll be in no condition to fight if you fly in broad daylight like this.”

“You got any better ideas?”

He nodded. “Marginally. Give me your hand and hold your hood.”

She looked at him to see if he was joking, but, seeing his serious face, she did as he asked. Still grumbling, she said, “I don’t see how- Whoa!”

They shot up into the sky, winds billowing around them. There was a pressure, yet also weightlessness, that spurred them forward. Reise grinned. “Told you I had a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Flying, though? You didn’t tell me you were a mage!” she yelled.

“I’m not!” he yelled back.

She didn’t have time to ask any more questions before they slammed into something. She grabbed hold of whatever the could find, and the creature squawked.

The three of them spiraled down towards the fields below. Both Reise and the creature were trying to get some upward momentum, but to little avail. Reise felt the sticky tongue wrap around him, and he yelped. He tried to swing his sword, but his arms were pressed tight against his body.

Sybil looked the creature in the eye and then at the crystal. It looked like the same crystals that the monsters who’d run wild had had. If it had some suggestion magic on it then maybe… “Reise, I’m going to try something!” she shouted.

“Um, please do!”

She gathered the strings of magic inside of her and pointed at the creature.“We don’t need to fight. Our enemy is the same.”

The crystal on the creature’s back glowed red, and the creature cocked its head at her. Its flapping slowed, and its tongue loosened from around Reese. He glanced down at the fast approaching ground and shouted,

“Sybil, we need to bail!”

Sybil looked at the creature, and said “Follow us.”

With that, she grabbed Reise’s hand. Their descent slowed immediately, billows of air pushing upwards against their forms. For a moment, the plains were still around them. Then, the creature spread its wings and flapped towards them. Reise began to dart back, but Sybil put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on.”

The creature loomed over them, mouth slightly agape. Reise squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for a bite or something. Instead, he felt something slimy and wet rub against them. Its breath stank of rot and wool. Reise was overcome with the urge to gag, but Sybil covered his mouth. The tongue retracted, and the creature let out a series of clicks. Sybil grimaced and said, “Well, that’s that I guess. Let’s check on that person down there.”

They alighted next to the still-frightened rancher, with the lizard-like creature following after. The rancher backed up, and Sybil put up a hand. “It’s alright, it won’t trouble you anymore.”

“Are-are you sure?” they asked.

“Positive.”

Reise gave Sybil a look of doubt, and she shrugged. Thank wasn’t like she’d brainwashed it, and it was intelligent enough to understand what she’d said. She figured it would be fine. The rancher looked relieved. They stepped forward, but seemed to think better of it and remained where they were. “Thank you so much. What are you going to do with it?”

Sybil eyed the creature. “Keep it, till we find where it came from. I’d wager that it has a couple clues for us.”

Reise made a face. “Sybil, do we really have to-“

She put a hand up. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we both need to visit the bathhouse. We stink.”

[overwatch-does-stuff]

Overwatch: Bastion Wakes Up in Australia

Just a little joke fic that I wrote some time ago. Writing Junkrat and Roadhog is very entertaining.

Junkrat was tired of walking. Period. He was tired of the sound of his footsteps. Tired of the sound of Roadhog's footsteps. Tired of that irritating clink and clack of that stupid chain hook that the brute carried. Tired, tired, tired, tired- "GaaAAH!" He cried out. "Enough! Just stop!"    And, like that, the trodding stopped. He turned around. Roadhog stood there, huffing in and out like the pig he was. "Let's sit down for a little, shall we?" said Junkrat. "Under this tree thing here."    Roadhog went over to a clear spot of ground than sat. Junkrat found a small rock near him. They sat in silence. "Water?"    It took Junkrat a second to process that Roadhog had said anything at all. "Yeah. Gimme."    Roadhog undid the canteen on his belt, opened it, then handed it over. Junkrat looked inside and started chugging it. He spit out some at the end. "Bleh. How many times have I told you to wash this thing? It tastes like. . . never mind, I don't want to say that out loud." He gagged.    Roadhog huffed and said nothing. He held out a hand. Junkrat handed the bottle back. More silence. "What are we going to do now?" Junkrat wondered out loud.    No response. "What we've got's. . . actually, what don't have a whole lot do we? What do we not have? Oh, right, no Junkertown, no gold, no shelter, no food, no nothing! Nothing nothing nothing! And whose fault is that?"    Roadhog looked intently. Junkrat paused. "YOURS! It's your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn't screwed it up!" He finally said, before looking down again.    He put his head in his hands. The only sound was that of Roadhog's big, loud breathing. It was getting raspier by the second. "Take a drink, you big lug!" Junkrat sat up. "Have some of that sparkle juice of yours."    Roadhog huffed, then reached behind. He pulled out a dirty tin can, shook it up a bit, then pressed it against his mask, inhaling deeply. Junkrat sighed. "Let's get moving again. Hopefully, we'll find a place by nightfall. If only someone weren't so slow."    Roadhog said nothing, then lifted himself of the ground. Junkrat jumped up.    And they walked. "Gorge. Ahead." "Oh, is that what you see?" Junkrat replied. "Great. A change in elevation. How wonderful. I'm already tired of walking and this has been flat the whole time!" Roadhog waited until he was finished. "Water." "We're out of water-! Wait, are you saying there might be water down there?" "River." "Oooooh, I see. Yes, let's go down and get some water."    The descent down the gorge side was steep. There were several drop offs and lots of rocks, large and small. It was a miracle Roadhog didn't start an avalanche. The river down at the bottom wasn't very deep, and it was a muddy brown. Trees and bushes, at least what remained of them, were rooted on the banks.    They reached the bottom of the gorge and pushed through the dead limbs of the trees. "This is great. Just great. Look at this sludge! It isn't fit to drink!"    Roadhog knelt down by the edge and started scooping the water up into his canteen. Then he began to fill multiple cans. "Ugh, whatever." Junkrat sat down and started helping with the task.    They filled for a little while, then sat in the the sort-of-shade of the mostly bare trees. Junkrat sighed. "Now we have to climb back out." He said, getting up.    Roadhog got up too. "I go first! That way, when you make the entire cliff collapse I'm not on the bottom. Then-" "Quiet." "What? Anyway, as I was-"    Roadhog clamped a hand over Junkrat's mouth. He mumbled and spat, but the hand stayed firmly clamped. He grew quiet.    On listening in, he found that he could hear something. Something like the sound of splashing. Something was coming up the river. Something big. "Hide?" Junkrat whispered. "Hide."    They ran for the nearest rock, one that was big enough for both of them to hide behind.    The splashing came nearer. Junkrat strained to look through the tangle of dead branches surrounding the river. Splash. Splash. Splash. "Shh, shh!" Junkrat whispered. Adrenaline coursed through him.    And through the bushes, they glimpsed a flash of metal. Then another, soon enough they could make out a head, and a body, and a- "Crikey-!"    Roadhog clamped his mouth shut again. ". . .is a basion. . ." Junkrat tried to mumble through his hand.    Roadhog let go. "A Bastion!" Junkrat whispered. "That's a Bastion! What are we going to do?!"    Roadhog pointed up the cliff side. There appeared to be a small path leading up. "No! It would see us. We'd be sitting ducks!" Junkrat put his hands on his ears. "QUIET."    The Bastion paused in its journey through the water. It looked over in the direction of their hiding place. Junkrat froze. Roadhog stopped breathing. The only sounds were that of the river.    After an eternity, the Bastion continued along its path, wading down the river. "Whew, that was close." Junkrat said. "Another sound and we would have been scrap. . ."    Roadhog tapped him and pointed up the hill, but Junkrat paid no mind. "Scrap. . ."    Roadhog visibly sighed. "I'VE GOT IT!" Junkrat cried.    Roadhog was about to clamp his mouth again, but he ducked. "I know how we can get back into Junkertown!"    Roadhog then facepalmed. "We could kill that Bastion! Imagine, we approach it, with a brilliant battle plan. We strike! We get it! Then, we put its head. . . on a stick, and march right up to Junkertown! We killed a Bastion. A whole Bastion. The Queen would have to let us in, to see the evidence, then, KABOOM! We stuff the head with explosives!" He exploded into maniacal laughter.    Junkrat then looked up at his partner. Roadhog's stare was empty devoid of any meaning. He grinned    They sneaked along the wall of the gorge, a little ways behind the war machine. Junkrat had his grenade launcher ready; Roadhog had his hook in hand. Junkrat was going to initiate the fight by launching a grenade over the Omnic, driving it their direction. Then, when it least expected, Roadhog would hook it to the side, into a nearby trap Junkrat had placed nearby. Hopefully, the steel trap was strong enough to prevent the Bastion from transforming.    Junkrat steadied himself to aim. The arch had to be just right. However, he couldn't help but be distracted by what the Omnic was doing. It casually waded down the river, but occasionally, it would pull off to the side, as if distracted by something. And. . . this Bastion was being oddly oblivious for being a war machine.    Suddenly, the Bastion stopped. Junkrat flinched back behind cover again. The Bastion let out a pattern of chirps, then held out its hand.    Branches on the far side of the river rustled. Out came a colorful Budgie. Junkrat didn't know those even existed anymore. The bird flew a circle, then landed on the hand of the Bastion. "Wha-"    The bird flapped and chirped. And the Bastion. . . petted its head? "I'll be buggered. . ." Junkrat muttered, lowering his launcher entirely.    Roadhog grunted in urgency. "That's not- that's not right." Junkrat continued. "What kind of robot-" "Shoot." Roadhog hissed.    The bird flapped around, then landed on the shoulder of the Omnic. The Bastion hummed a merry tune. Junkrat stepped backwards. "Maybe we should wait and see-"    As he stepped backwards, his foot hit a stray rock. He fell against the ground, and the grenade launcher clanged against the rocks. The bird squawked and flew away. The Bastion looked up, spooked, and began walking again. "Idiot." Roadhog kicked his side, then offered a hand to help him back up. "Uh- next time! We'll get it next time! Let's get closer to it."    They retrieved Junkrat's trap and made their way to the edge of the river, out of the rocks and into the brush. It was much harder to be quiet. Junkrat set the trap again. "Okay, this time, I'll make a bird call to draw it over to the trap and-" "Same plan." "No, we'll draw it over and we'll get a better look at it-" "Kill it." "No! This one's acting funny. Let's find out why-" Junkrat cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ca-CAW!"    The Bastion froze. Roadhog flinched. "IDIOT." He hissed. "Trust me, my bird calls are expert-"    The Bastion looked over. "Caw- ugh!"    Roadhog smacked him in the gut. The Bastion turned and began walking towards them. "Now, to lead it towards-"    Roadhog grabbed him as the Bastion came closer. Junkrat struggled against his grasp, shaking and twisting. Suddenly, the brute let go. Junkrat sprung forward and crashed through the brush.    He felt water flowing through his hands and sand on his face. Slowly, he lifted himself up. "Bwee?"    Junkrat flinched, than froze. The Bastion was right in front of him. It towered above him, and he looked up to meet its single, blue optic. "I don't want to die!" Junkrat immediately started crying. "Please don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want!"    The Bastion cocked its head. "I'm sorry for wanting to kill you! It was all a big misunderstanding. . ." Sobs choked his words.    The Bastion hesitated, and Junkrat grimaced. Then, it walked back to the other side of the river. Junkrat jumped up from his position and began backing into the bush. However, the Bastion came back, so he froze. It was holding something in its hand.    The Omnic came over and held its hand out, presenting a single, green, blade of grass. Junkrat hadn't seen anything this green in a long time. It gestured it towards him. "You want. . . me. . . to?" Junkrat slowly brought his hand out. In a quick swipe he grabbed the grass out of the Bastion's hand.    It hummed happily as Junkrat observed the plant. "Well, cheers." Junkrat said in bewilderment. He then looked back to the bushes. "Roadhog! Come on out, ya coward."    Rustling from the bushes. Then silence. The Bastion let out a warning chirp. "No, no. That's just my friend. Come on out!"    Slowly, from the bushes, came Roadhog. The Bastion stepped backwards at the sight. "This, is Roadhog. And I'm Junkrat. We're friends." Junkrat said slowly to the Omnic. "What. Are you. Doing." Roadhog said quietly. "See? Friends." Junkrat held out his words.    The Bastion stepped forwards again. "Now how about a handshake?" Junkrat came forward to meet it.    Slowly, he grabbed its hand. It buzzed quietly. Then he shook it up and down. "Friends. See? Good Bastion. That's a good Bastion."    The Bastion then looked over to Roadhog. It turned and came towards him, hand extended. "Yeah, that's it. Shake his hand." Junkrat followed, then stood beside Roadhog and whispered "shake its hand, ya lug."      Roadhog timidly held his hand forward. The Bastion grabbed it, repeating the same motion it had learned, shaking up and down. Roadhog quickly drew his hand back after. "Ah HA!" Junkrat shouted and pointed to the sky. "I have tamed the fearsome Bastion!" "Idiot." Roadhog hissed. "No, not idiot! This Bastion follows my commands!" Junkrat gestured. "Why, we could march right into Junkertown and blow away anyone that tries to stop us!"    The Bastion, a bit confused as to what was going on, started walking down the river again, away from whoever these two were. "No! Bad Bastion! Stay!" Junkrat shouted after it, and pointed at the ground.    The Bastion looked backwards. Junkrat ran to follow it. "Stay, ya stupid robot! You're going to follow me back to Junkertown! We're going to blow away the Queen!"    The Bastion turned back around again. "Yes! That's right! Follow me."    Slowly, the Omnic followed him back to where Roadhog was standing. Roadhog pulled Junkrat to the side. "Not a good idea." "Do you got a better one?"    After a couple seconds, Roadhog let go of him. "And we're off! The legendary duo- erm, trio," Junkrat added, looking at the Bastion, who chirped at the mention, "are off to kill the queen!"    Roadhog followed, rolling his eyes. This couldn't end well.