#anyway I’ve been wanting to do somethin with him and orange and blue for a while now and I’m just now feeling like I could do it

[redhotarsenic]

ACID PUNK PHANTASY

[thetriggeredhappy]

day 1 let’s fuckin’ go. everyone listen to butterflies by samsa

Day 1: Pursuit

“You seriously don’t have any better games than this?” Scout complained, looking back down at the board, doubtful. “Not even, like, a deck of cards? To play poker or somethin’?”

“Rather not play two-person poker, and I don’t like gambling anyways,” was Sniper’s reply, not glancing up from shuffling the cards.

“I mean, maybe Go Fish then, or Old Maid, or—or somethin’, not fuckin’… Trivial Pursuit.”

Sniper seemed to mull that over for a moment. “If you don’t want to play,” he started to say, hesitant, and Scout sputtered to cut him off before he could finish that thought.

“I, I mean, I didn’t say that,” he managed, still half-glaring down at the board. “Just, y’know.”

Sniper probably didn’t know, actually. Truthfully, Scout wasn’t much for… book smarts type games. Games that needed quick reflexes, talking quickly, theatrics, those he was a champion at besides his eternally bad luck, but facts and numbers and geography? Those he tended to sort of… fuck up beyond recognition. And he really, really didn’t want to look like a complete idiot in front of Sniper.

Kind of the worst case scenario, actually. But the worse worst case scenario was driving the guy away before even getting to hang out with him, here, the first time he’d ever agreed to one of Scout’s dozens of proposed hangouts.

Hell, he’d honestly gotten used to Sniper always saying no. ‘Nah’ and ‘Not this time’ and ‘Afraid not, sorry mate’ were three phrases Scout had heard at least three and four times a week for months, now. He’d started brushing right through it, stopped letting it hurt his feelings even, although he couldn’t help but get his hopes up, still. Invitations to team drinking nights and poker parties and carpooling with the guys to the movies or a bar or a casino, or more overt invitations to listen to new albums or go out to get fast food or to fairs or to concerts, he’d long since gotten used to those standard, polite rejections.

So he was surprised, then, when he’d delivered his offhanded invitation—“Hey, Snipes, all the other guys bailed on the rec room game night tonight, you wanna be there anyways?”—he hadn’t expected Sniper to hesitate for a few seconds before shrugging and saying sure.

Hell, he was halfway through his ‘yeah no problem no worries man’ before he even realized Sniper said yes, then it was fumbling the whole rest of the way.

Better to be an idiot friend than a distant acquaintance, maybe. That’s what he told himself.

A brief mumbled rundown of the rules went in one ear and out the other as he got preoccupied with looking over one of the cards, mind boggled by what the hell the letters and colors were supposed to mean. A short summary was nodded at vaguely, and apparently his poker face had been terrible all along, because Sniper shrugged and said that they could just play first to six questions right and tally up wins from there. Then they rolled a dice and Sniper, apparently, would go first.

“Alright, uh,” Scout said, squinting down at the little card. “What does a… he-leo-logist, study?”

Sniper thought about it for a second. “Er… the sun,” he replied.

“Yep,” Scout nodded, nudged a piece towards him. Sniper took it. “So, uh, you go again?”

“Yeah. Er… geography, this time,” Sniper mumbled, shuffling some pieces around in a way that probably made sense to people who actually knew how this board game worked.

“Sure. What’s… the country that has South America’s highest and lowest points?”

Another pause. “Bloody… Argentina, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Damn. Okay, next one,” Scout said, less concerned about the fact that Sniper was doing well and more worried at the fact that he was gonna do awful.

“Geography again,” Sniper determined.

“What natural… breakwater, is off the north… eastern, part of Australia?” he read, a little stilted, squinting at the letters, like that would help, for once. Silence, for a pause, then for longer. Scout breathed an internal sigh of relief, smiling a little. “C’mon, it’s your own fuckin’, uh… country, continent, thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s both,” Sniper said, and paused. “It… it’s not talking about the bloody, er… Solomon Islands, is it?”

“Great Barrier Reef,” Scout replied.

Sniper muttered a swear. “Overthought it,” he sighed, nudging the dice over to Scout, who rolled it. Sniper glanced at the number, moved the pieces, looked at a card. “Right. What craft uses a… kiln, and a kick wheel?”

Scout could’ve cried. “That’s, uh, pottery, sculpting,” he said, relieved.

A nod from Sniper, a piece scooped onto his side of the table, the dice rolled a few seconds later when he realized he was supposed to do that. “How many colors are in the rainbow?” he asked next.

Scout had to count off on his fingers for a second. “Uh, seven,” he said, and fist-pumped when Sniper nodded, scooping up another piece. “Even though it’s, uh, kinda bullishit. There should be six.”

Sniper’s eyebrows ticking up in confusion probably was a sign he should drop it, but instead he found himself spouting off.

“Because, uh, like, y’know, there’s—there’s the kinds of colors, right?” he said, backpedaling at his response of furrowed eyebrows. “Like, the basic ones, the, uh, primary colors, that’s red and yellow and blue, y’know? And then the other three, that you get from mixing those, like, uh, red and yellow is, uh… is orange, and then like, green, and purple, you combine ‘em, right?”

Sniper nodded slowly after a moment.

“But then you got, uh, fuckin’… indigo. In the, uh, in the list of colors, fuckin’, Roy G. Biv? Red orange yellow, green, blue indigo violet? And I know it’s, like, blue and dark blue, but I think that still sucks. If we’ve got indigo we’ve gotta have like, the other in- between guys. Know what I mean?”

“Don’t have much of an opinion on it, but, sounds like you’re making points,” Sniper said, and Scout shrugged, glanced down at the table, tapped his fingertips against his knees out of sight to try and let out some nervous energy. “Bloody, er… your turn, or mine?”

“Uh, mine,” Scout said, scrambling to roll the dice.

“Right. Sorry. Er…” Sniper read over the card. “Patron saint of Scotland?”

Scout swore under his breath, deflating a little, coming up blank. “Uh… hey, Demo!” he called, and heard a vague ‘aye’ from the kitchen. “Who’s the patron saint of Scotland?”

“My mum,” Demo called back, and Sniper snickered, at least, which softened the blow to Scout’s confidence considerably.

“Ah, fuck off,” Scout called back, and looked back at Sniper, smiling. “Saint Scrumpy, fuck, I dunno.”

“Saint Andrew, apparently,” Sniper shrugged, rolling the dice. “Sports question. The orange one.”

Scout tried to read the question before starting to say anything out loud, and found himself completely lost anyways. “Who was the first… Ch—Check-uh-slavarian… to win, the… Wimbleton…”

“No idea,” Sniper said outright, shaking his head at himself. “Don’t follow, er… what, the Olympics?”

“Tennis, I guess,” Scout shrugged, rolling the dice.

“Sports for you too. What did… bloody hell. What did second baseman Bill… Wambsganss, do all by himself in the, er… 1920 World Series game?”

“Oh, shit,” Scout laughed, “guy did, like, a triple play, and then hit into a double later that same game. That was the year some guy got hit in the head with a ball and fuckin’ died.”

Sniper was staring at him, clearly shocked.

“What?” Scout asked, rolling the dice. “I know baseball. And it was a whole thing.”

Sniper seemed to shrug it off, shaking his head. “What’s the Taj Mahal made of?”

“Fuckin’, I dunno, chocolate? What, that some kinda dessert? What’s that?” Scout scoffed, trying to play it off.

“It’s… it’s a place. Looks a bit like a castle? Like, er, like the Eiffel Tower, or Big Ben, tourist sort of thing?” Sniper tried, and Scout shrugged, and he shrugged back, rolling the dice. “Fair enough. One of the, er, Science ones. Green one.”

Scout looked at the card for a few seconds. “I… dunno how to say this word. Glue… glay… what’s that?”

Sniper leaned over, and Scout turned it towards him. “Glaucoma. Hits your eyes,” he said, and Scout nodded, and he took a piece, rolled again. “Brown one.”

“What are… catalogued, under the Dewey decimal system?” Scout asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Books, library books,” Sniper mumbled.

“Jesus, are you—where’s the mirrors, seriously? How are you doing that?” Scout asked, and Sniper huffed something like a laugh, taking the piece, rolling again. “No, no, seriously. How the hell do you know half of these?”

“Geography, blue,” he prompted.

“Alright, I swear to god.” Scout held the card close as he read it, first to himself, then out loud. “What national capital is heated by underground hot springs?”

Sniper, to his credit, paused for a moment before answering. “Iceland’s. Reykjavik, it’s called.”

“I swear to god.” Scout flipped over the card, read the answer. “Oh, what the fuck!”

“I’ve bloody been there!” Sniper defended.

“Nah, fuck off, hold on—“ Scout picked up another card, reading another question. “Where in a tree does photosynthesis happen?”

“Leaves.”

“How do you know that so fast!” Scout demanded.

“That’s just science class in school!”

“Fuckin’—who, fuckin’, rode on the raft with Huck Finn?” Scout asked next.

“The, er… runaway, Jim.”

“Oh, what!” Scout all but shouted.

“Scout, I read.”

“Nah, nah, you’re way too good at this game, either you’re like, cheating, or you on purpose picked this game because you’re, like, weirdly crazy good at it or something!”

Sniper’s expression went from amusement to that blankness again, and it only made Scout even more infuriated.

“I mean, seriously, did you pick this game on purpose because you just know all the cards? Did you just wanna do the game where you’d for sure win?” he demanded.

Sniper was fidgeting with his glasses, now, and to be honest, Scout wasn’t even particularly mad, just confused.

“I mean, shit, you’d think you just wanted too play this one so you could look smart and cool and shit like that,” he said. and saw the way Sniper shrank a little, and the lightbulb went off way too late.

A pause.

“Dude,” Scout said, fighting down a laugh.

Sniper mumbled something he didn’t quite hear, sinking in his chair.

“Alright, seriously, if you wanna look smarter than me, you really don’t gotta pull out the trivia questions. Pretty much any game works, you know that, right? I’ll make an idiot of myself playing, like… Uno,” Scout said. Sniper shrugged, still not looking him in the eye. “Okay. Here’s an idea. How about we play, uh… I dunno, Crazy Eights. And while we play I’m gonna keep grilling you on this random trivia shit because seriously, that’s totally nuts, man.”

Sniper hesitated for a few seconds before he finally nodded and straightened up, and in a way, they both won. Scout because he now at least knew he wasn’t the only one who was a total mess and way too worried about what other people thought, and Sniper because he could keep being impressive about random trivia knowledge. Apparently, he knew a bunch about geography and books and nature, and not a single thing about sports.

Scout accused him of trying to memorize the cards. Sniper laughed, properly, for the first time all night.

[plaidbooks]

I’m Okay

A/N: This was a concept I’ve had in my head for a little. I just...I really wanted a fluffy Carisi piece. Though, this is definitely more angst with a happy ending. I don’t know what it is about Carisi, but I always seem to write him into angsty things (though, I also just seem to write mostly angst with happy endings idk man).

Tags: domestic violence mention, rape mention, car crashes, blood mention

Words: 2k

You stood next to Carisi and Olivia as you all listened in on the interview Rollins and Fin were conducting on the latest scumbag you and Carisi had dragged in, Trevor Oaks. His wife—who you were hoping would be his soon ex—came in earlier in the day, crying, hand on her quickly blackening eye. Her husband had a temper, one that came out soon after the wedding. But now, he had crossed the line, taking his aggression out on her instead of just the wall or a vase. Though, it wasn’t until Amy Oaks had sat down with Lieutenant Benson that she realized with horror that this wasn’t the first time; that when he would get angry and force her to the bedroom, that even if she was his wife, that it was still rape.

You scrunched your nose up in disgust as Fin and Rollins grilled Trevor, trying to bring out that violent side of him that you all knew existed. But the man simply smirked, asking for his lawyer. Obviously frustrated, the detectives got up and left the interview room.

“He’ll make bail in no time,” Olivia muttered to the glass, glaring at the bastard. It was true; he was a trust-fund baby, riding on the millions made by his father.

“Want us to sit on Amy at the hotel?” Carisi asked. You and your partner were already charged with moving her from the precinct, where she was hidden in Liv’s office, to the hotel, well away from her husband until his trial. You really didn’t mind Carisi volunteering you both to watch her, either; in the months you’ve been working together, you had developed a crush on him. Spending more time stuck in a small, confined car, telling stories about your families, past cases from past departments, and embarrassing snippets of your childhoods was one of your favorite things to do. Something about the way Carisi’s bright blue eyes crinkled when he laughed at something you said warmed your whole being.

“Just for tonight; unis can take over in the morning,” Olivia replied, giving a small smile of thanks before dissolving back into the tired, professional demeanor she always carried at work.

You nodded and headed to your desk, grabbing your coat and things, Carisi right behind you.

“Hey, sorry for volunteering ya for this,” he said, but the smirk he had showed that he wasn’t really sorry. He knew you didn’t mind, not really—the job, the victims always came first. It’s one of the reasons you two worked so well together.

“Yeah, yeah. You can make it up to me by buying the first round of coffee,” you joked, grinning right back at him. He grabbed his jacket and keys, then followed you to Liv’s office. Making sure the coast was clear, you and Carisi were on either side of Amy Oaks as you led her from Liv’s office to Carisi’s squad car, tucking her behind the driver’s seat. You climbed in the front seat, and Carisi took the wheel. The sun was already setting in the city, casting the sky into beautiful pinks and oranges.

The hotel that Amy was assigned to was across the city, and the rush hour traffic from the end of the workday meant that the sky was dark before you made it halfway to the hotel.

“So, Trevor won’t be able to find me tonight?” Amy asked in a small voice, a sob threatening to break from her throat.

You turned in your seat to give her a reassuring smile. “He’s in jail for the night; the bail office is closed. Besides, Detective Carisi and I will be stationed right outside your room, just in case. You’re in good hands.”

She nodded slowly, relaxing her shoulders slightly. You turned back around, eyes catching Carisi’s as he chanced a glance over at you, a smile tugging the corner of his lips. Then his eyes were back on the road, and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“Ya know, [Y/N], there’s somethin’ I wanted to talk to ya about…” he started, trailing off. His voice sounded a little nervous, and you cocked your head, brow furrowed.

“What’s on your mind, Carisi—” you were cut off by an impact slamming into the side of the car, the loud, grinding sound of metal on metal filling the space around you. You felt the seatbelt tighten painfully against your chest, your head whipping to the side before everything went dark.

 ******************************

Carisi felt the impact on the passenger side, felt himself lose control of his car. It skidded down the street before it finally came to a stop, the horrible sound of metal scraping still fresh in his ears. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands death-gripping the wheel as instincts took over and he just held on. It took him a few moments to realize that the car had stopped. Suddenly fearing another impact, Carisi ripped his eyes open, trying to take in the scene in front of him, gauging what the hell was happening. The windshield was gone, in fragments on the hood and in his lap. Slowly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, staggering out of the seat. He looked to the SUV that had hit him, but the driver was long gone; the driver’s door was wide open. In the distance, he could hear sirens already.

Remembering his job, Carisi stumbled to the door behind his own, throwing it open. Amy was dazed, blood leaking from her temple and a split lip, but she was very much alive.

“What—what happened?” she mumbled, not quite lucid. She probably had a concussion, Carisi thought grimly, frowning. He pulled the pocket square from his jacket and put it in her hand. He then took her hand and guided it to where the blood was leaking from her head. Carisi vaguely noticed that the side of his own face felt sticky, but he could deal with that later.

“Hey, [Y/N], you okay?” he asked, looking at your still-seated form in the front seat. You didn’t respond and his stomach dropped. “[Y/N]?” He leaned over Amy’s body, careful not to touch her in case she was more injured than she seemed and rested a hand on your shoulder. He shook you gently, but still there was no response, your head lolling to the side. Carisi could feel his hands starting to shake as he pulled back out of the car, hurrying around to your side of the car on wobbly legs. But the SUV had made contact directly with your door, denting the metal inward. He knew it was futile but that didn’t stop him from gripping the twisted handle and pulling on it with all his might. Panic gripped him, making bile rise in his throat as he flung himself on the hood of the car, avoiding the sharp points of metal as best he could. He reached through the missing windshield, checking to see if you had a pulse, unable to even consider the fact that you may not. He let out a strangled sob as he found a faint heartbeat there, your breathing coming in rasps.

It took everything in him to not pull you out of the wreckage, to wait for the ambulance to get there. But he waited on the hood of the car until the paramedics dragged him away, sitting him on the back of an ambulance, checking the cut on his temple, the smaller cuts on his face from the glass. He had a mild concussion but was wholly unharmed. Amy was much the same; minor cuts and bruises, a concussion, and a transportation to the hospital to make sure there was nothing internally damaged. Rollins had been the first officer on the scene, but Carisi asked her to ride with Amy—he may have failed to protect her, but that didn’t mean SVU couldn’t pick up his slack.

So, he sat in silence as he watched the paramedics attempted to dislodge you from the driver’s side of the car. But the metal had pinned your legs, making it impossible to pull you from the wreckage. That’s when the jaws of life made an appearance, and they began cutting their way through the door. Carisi felt the hot trails his tears made down his cheeks as they left his eyes, but he couldn’t stop them, didn’t even try. He just clutched the shock blanket that the paramedics draped over him tighter. This was all his fault, anyways; he should’ve seen the SUV coming, should’ve been paying more attention. Guilt ripped through him as he watched with morbid fascination as the paramedics slowly made their way to you. It seemed like they were going so slow; he was starting to think that there was a chance you might not make it, that you may bleed out, that you may—

“Carisi, what happened?” Olivia’s voice cut through his thoughts. He jumped, not noticing his Lieutenant’s presence.

“I-I’m sorry, Lieu. I didn’t…the SUV came outta nowhere…I shoulda—”

“It’s not your fault, Carisi.” She took a deep breath, surveying the scene. Her eyes froze on the paramedics cutting through the door, but from this angle, she couldn’t make out who was in the front seat. “Where’s Amy Oaks? And [Y/L/N]?”

Carisi let out a shuddering breath. “Amy’s in the hospital—Rollins is with her. She’s shaken up but fine. [Y/N] is—is…” he trailed off, looking back at the wreckage. Olivia gave him one last look, patted his arm, then rushed over to the car. The paramedics had finally made it through the door and cut the seatbelt away from your limp body. Fresh tears spilled over Carisi’s face as he watched them gently, carefully, lift your lifeless body out of the passenger’s seat and onto a gurney, before loading you into an ambulance and driving away.

Olivia talked with some of the remaining paramedics before she rushed back over to Carisi. “Lieu, is she—is she…?”

“She’s alive Carisi; let’s go,” Liv ordered. He didn’t need to be told twice; he was up and following Olivia on weak legs to her car. She flipped on her lights and sped after the ambulance.

 *********************************

Carisi felt like a spirit walking the halls of the hospital. At first, he was in the waiting room lobby; you were in surgery when you had first arrived. You got a punctured lung from the car accident, not to mention all the various cuts and bruises. You were actually very lucky that that was all you walked away with. But still, Carisi didn’t think of it was lucky. You would’ve been luckier if he didn’t open his stupid mouth, if he didn’t offer to watch Amy Oaks that night—he ignored the fact that you both would’ve still given her a ride to the hotel.

After sitting idly for about 30 minutes, his Catholic guilt was eating him alive. So, instead of spending another moment alone with his thoughts, he went in search of a cathedral in the hospital, if they had one in this specific hospital. Turned out that they did have one; ground floor and tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the doctors, nurses, orderlies, patients, and families that roamed the halls.

Carisi had found the cathedral quickly enough and spent an hour in there, reciting every prayer he could remember to help you through this, to keep you alive. And to assuage at least some of his guilt. But it did little to help there. Instead, it was more of a private place to let some more tears shed, tears that he didn’t want to explain to his Lieutenant. He was pretty sure that she had written it off as simple guilt, and she was partly right. But only partly. The truth was that Carisi didn’t want to lose you; from the moment you had walked into the squad room, he had been 100% completely smitten by you. And now, he had put you in the hospital.

He made his way back to the waiting room lobby and plopped down next to Olivia, who have his knee a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be fine, Carisi,” she muttered. He simply nodded, willing himself to not start sobbing again.

He lost track of time before the doctor came out and announced that you would be fine, that you would make a full recovery. Carisi released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

 ******************************

Your eyes fluttered as you slowly opened them. You noticed instantly that you were in a hospital room; the white walls and sheets catching your eyes, the soft lighting showing that it was late in the evening, the soft hum of machinery filling the silence of the room. But there was another noise, too. Looking around you found the source quickly. Next to your bed was a visitor’s chair, Detective Carisi sitting in it, his top half bent over your bed. His head was nestled by your knees, one arm under his cheek, his other hand laying next to yours, his fingers barely brushing your skin. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly ajar with a thin line of drool in the corner of his mouth. The sound you had heard was his soft snores. Your heart melted at the sight, even if your stomach clenched at the numerous cuts on his face and arms, and the redness around his eyes. As much as you wanted to let him sleep, you knew that his back must be killing him from this position, and he was probably worried half to death.

“Sonny,” you called softly, lightly touching his hand with yours. His eyes flew open and he groaned as he sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you okay, Sonny?” you asked, smiling at his half-asleep look, his eyes still bleary. You noticed the bandage on his temple, but it was white, so the bleeding was stopped.

He blinked a couple times. “Me? Of course, I’m okay. Are you okay?” He rubbed at his eyes, trying to see straight.

You took mental stock of your body; you had a dull pain in your chest and a small headache, but mostly you just felt the drowsiness of the medication you were surely on. You thought back to what happened; the car ride to the hotel, making sure Amy Oaks was alright, the car crash— “Yeah…I’m fine. Amy?”

“She’s fine; Rollins and Fin are watching her,” he paused, brow furrowed, unable to meet your eyes. “[Y/N], I am so, so sorry about this. I shoulda—”

“Carisi,” you cut him off, raising your hand to stop him. “Unless you’re about to tell me that you intentionally got hit by that other car, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“But—”

“No buts,” your eyes softened as he finally looked at you. He looked so…sad, defeated. “Sonny, it’s not your fault. It’s called a car accident for a reason.”

He nodded. “I know, it’s just…I almost—” his voice started to break, tears in his eyes, making them brighter blue, “I almost lost you.”

Tears were now forming in your eyes, and you reached for his hand. He took yours, laying them on the bed, fingers interlacing. “I’m right here, Sonny. I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I—I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you today. [Y/N], I love you—I love you so much, and seeing the paramedics taking you out of the car—” his voice hitched and the tears really started to fall now.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I—I love you, too, Sonny. Come here.” You scooted over on the bed, as much as you could. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head. “Come here,” you said again, pulling the hand you were still holding.

He smiled softly before he carefully climbed into the bed next to you. You curled up next to him, burying your face in his chest and breathing in his familiar scent. Carisi wrapped his arms gently around you, pulling you protectively against him, placing soft kisses on the top of your head. He whispered how much he loved you until you fell asleep in his embrace.

[lu-undy]

Hi!❤️. Spy is a romantic. He always makes nice things for Sniper, and the dates he plans are amazing. Sniper wants to be romantic too, so, this time, he wants to surprise Spy with his own planned date. He'll take him camping and they'll watch the starry together. Convincing Spy to go camping was a little hard, but totally worth it, Spy completely loved that date.

Alright, a date in the forest it is! I hope you’ll like it!

“Non, Sniper, I cannot accept.”

“How can you not like it if you’ve never tried it?”

Spy got up from the shade of the van and walked further away, his more-than-friend on his heels.

“Let us be serious, Sniper. Do you see me in the middle of a forest with squeaky plastic green boots?”

The Australian sighed and let his shoulders sink. He put a hand on Spy’s back who had just lit a cigarette.

“Spook, please… You always take me to wonderful places I’ve never been before, luxurious hotels and restaurants, and there was the tailor too, that fancy hairdresser… I want to try and open yer horizons too. I-I’m sorry I’m not a fancy city man like you but-but I’m sure I can make it worth your time.”

Sniper saw the cloud of smoke float in the air like the steam of an old train. Thoughts were racing in Spy’s head.

“Please, Spy. It’s not all about dirt and wilderness. There are beautiful things outside of a city’s walls.”

The Frenchman turned to face the reason his heart was beating for and Sniper put his gloved hand on his cheek.

“Like you, right now, you’re in the middle of the desert and uh… Y-you… You’re just beautiful.” 

Spy raised his eyes to Sniper. His lagoon blue eyes shone so gently that he didn’t find it in his cold stone heart to refuse.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Oui. Let us go camping tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much!” The Australian squeezed the slim Frenchman between his arms.

“S-Sniper!”

“Ah, yeah, sorry, the suit, alroight, I’m sorry.” Sniper took a step back and wrapped his arms around his own self, lowering his head. He knew the Frenchman didn’t like anyone to touch his absurdly expensive attire.

“Sniper, look at me.”

The Australian shyly raised his eyes.

“I don’t like when other people touch my suit…” Spy added a smug smile, for good measure.

They had spent the night in Sniper’s campervan and when the sun rose up, the Frenchman found himself entangled in his lover’s limbs. His first reflex was to free himself certainly out of professional habit but then he realised that he liked that embrace more than he could admit. The warmth of his lover, the comfort of his soft body, the touch of his rough skin against Spy’s…

“Mornin’, Spook…”

“Oh, you woke up?”

“Felt you movin’ on me.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep. You may go back to your dreams if you will.” Spy took Sniper’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. He couldn’t see it but the Australian’s eyes snapped wide under the gentle touch.

“Not a chance. I’m likin’ this way too much…” The embrace tightened.

“So, when are we going to the jungle, Tarzan?” 

“Oi, I’m no Tarzan and I’m takin’ you to a forest, not a jungle.”

“I don’t see the shadow of a difference.”

“Between me and Tarzan or between a jungle and the forest?”

“Oui.”

“You’re a bloody mystery and a half.”

“It is indeed my job title.”

About an hour later, the van was crossing the empty golden, flat desert, on the thin strip of grey asphalt.

“Are we there yet?”

“Spook, not yet.”

A few seconds passed and the van's engine was roaring.

“And now, Bushman, are we there yet?”

“Do you see anythin’ that looks like a bloody forest?”

“Non, I can only see the dull, boring orange desert.”

“Well then that means we’re not there yet, roight?”

“How long is this journey, Bushman? Are we going to make it before you get baby kangaroos?”

“Oi! A bit of patience, Spook!”

The Frenchman sighed and let his head fall back on the headrest.

“Also, I can’t get babies on my own, this isn’t how it works.”

“Is this an invitation?” Spy smirked.

“Shut up!” Sniper nudged him with his elbow.

The journey took an extra hour before they could see the end of the orange and the beginning of the green. The Australian lifted his foot off the gas pedal and eventually parked somewhere that the Frenchman would describe as “the middle of nowhere”.

“Roight, this is it.”

“Ah, oui, merci Sniper, for this delightful ride to the middle of nowhere, forest edition.”

“Oh get out and cheer up, I’ll show you some nice stuff!” Sniper answered and cut the engine off.

“After you, Mister guide…”

They got off the van. 

“Uhm, I am not really dressed for this, Sniper.”

“Come ‘round. I can lend you some clothes.”

“Non merci.”

[No thanks.]

“You’d rather walk around in yer suit and nice shoes, then?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then c’mere.”

They walked to the van’s back and Sniper jumped in. He rummaged through his belongings and found an old flannel shirt and a pair of jeans as well as some white trainers.

“Here, wear this.”

“I do hope that you are kidding me, mon beau.”

[my handsome one]

“Nah, I’m not. It should be yer size more or less and it’s fine to get them a bit dirty, although you’ll see that we’re not gonna go through any survival things. This is just to show you that you can find as many beautiful things in nature as you can in a city.”

The Frenchman winced.

“Alroight, I can uh… I mean if it helps, I can… Ahem…” Sniper put a hand on the nape of his neck. 

Spy jumped in the van and got close to his lover. 

“Tell me, what is it?”

Sniper glanced over his lover’s shoulder and seeing the door shut, he lowered his head and whispered.

“I… I can remove yer suit for you and dress you up… I-if that helps I mean…”

“Oh I don’t know if that would help.” Spy smirked and put his index finger under Sniper’s chin to push it up until their eyes met. “On one hand, if you do remove my clothes, I might get carried away. Should you proceed anyway, I would find it most enjoyable.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“Oui.”

“Alroight…”

A few minutes later, both men were out in the green. Spy kept his gloves and balaclava on. He took his lover’s hand in his.

“Show me then, please.”

“Alroight, see those trees here, well, you gotta understand somethin’ about the way they work…”

It wasn’t a visit, it was a trek, an excursion, a hike across the green. The Australian unveiled the secrets of the forest, the local wildlife as well as the typical flora around this parts.

“Oh and what is it about the mosquitoes! it’s getting worse!”

“Ah that must mean one thing, Spook, we’re getting closer to some water. Oh, look here, on the ground.”

“What are those fluffy, uhm, mille-pattes?”

“Mill-what?”

“What do you call those insects with a lot of legs?”

“Ah, caterpillars. These are called caterpillars.”

“Why are they so fluffy? Can we touch them?”

Spy got his finger closer to them.

“No, no, don’t! They’ll sting you!”

The Australian took his lover’s hand away.

“And why do they walk in a line like this? They look like they’re queueing for something…”

“Haha, my poor city man, they’re blind, that’s why they follow the only one that has any idea where it’s going!”

“Oh… I see…”

“What do you think about’em?”

“They look actually quite pretty. And very organised.”

“Glad to hear you say it, they’re amazin’ these creatures, see? Blind but they know what they’re doing! Let’s continue.”

“Fine, I’ll follow you.”

The guided tour lasted the entire day and to Spy, it seemed that he had received an entire encyclopaedia of information about the place. Everything had been accounting for, every straw of grass included. The sun was now gently setting in the distance.

“Hungry, luv’?”

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just call me…?”

“Oh, uhm, sorry, that came out like that, I didn’t think about it, uh…”

“Don’t apologise, now I am quite hungry indeed…”

Spy winked at his lover and Sniper’s cheeks turned red instantly.

“R-roight, uhm, I-I’ll get the fire goin’ uh…”

“Sniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Let me light the fire, please.”

Sniper’s eyebrows jumped.

“You know how to do it?”

“May I try?”

“Alroight, go ahead. I’ll get to the van and arrange some stuff meanwhile.”

A few minutes later, the Australian exited his van again.

“Crikey, you did it! You lit a fire!”

Sniper jumped out of his van and leapt at his lover.

“Mon amour, non-oof!”

[My love]

The momentum of the Australian’s jump made them both tumble and fall on the grass. The Frenchman rolled his eyes.

“Oh now even my balaclava will be dirty…!”

“Yeah, but it’s protecting yer hair! Why are you always seeing the glass always half-empty?”

Spy smiled.

“I guess you are right.”

“Also, did you just call me-?”

“My love, oui, I did.”

“I… I love you.”

Sniper wrapped his arms around his lover and buried his head in his chest as he laid on top of him on the earthy ground of the forest.

“Sniper, y-you are crushing me…”

“Don’t care, I just love you.”

They enjoyed their sausages and marshmallows, sat on a tree log, Spy leaning his head on his lover’s shoulder. The sun had now fully set and the sole source of light on which they could rely was the dancing flames of the campfire that the Frenchman had made. 

“It’s cold now, mon amour.”

“It is. Climb up the van’s roof, I’ll be a minute.”

“The roof?”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s cold!”

“Trust me, Spook, please.”

“Fine. I have been so far so why not go all the way?"

A few minutes later, both men were on the van’s rooftop. Sniper had put the flames out and only the smoke floated in the air, evaporating through the darkness of the night. 

“Here, a duvet, we’ll be a bit warmer.”

The Australian sat next to his lover and threw the cover on their shoulders. Spy snuggled up against his taller man.

“Now look up, luv’. See those stars in the sky?”

“I see them in your eyes.”

Sniper looked down and saw the Frenchman’s eyes riveted on his, his wide black pupils reflecting the moonlight. 

“Oh, uh, they must look tiny on my eyes, uh, y-you better look at the sky to see them better, I think.”

“You are adorable.” Spy took Sniper’s arm in his and looked up. 

“See those stars shaped like a saucepan?”

“Oui.”

“That’s the Great Bear.”

“It doesn’t look like one, does it?” Spy tilted his head left and right, trying to see where on Earth anyone could see a bear up there.

“Nah, it’s true… And that one there, the upside down saucepan, that’s the Small Bear.”

“It doesn’t make any sense, Bushman. Who are these people who decided on that, their vision is terrible! Have they ever seen a bear in real life?!”

“Oi, don’t blame me, I have nothing to do with that, luv’! I’m just explaining it to ya.”

“I know, but still. They should have called it the saucepan and the upside down saucepan.”

“I agree with ya. Now there’s that one there, that’s the Dragon.”

“And unsurprisingly, it does not look like one.”

“Oh cause maybe you have seen a dragon in real life?”

“And what if I did.”

“Oh, shut up and c’mere…!”

They snuggled up closer to each other under their white fluffy blanket and  the dark one God had laid above their heads.

“So what about today? Did you like it?”

“Oui, I think I did. You know a lot of things about this… Nature business…”

“Well, yeah, I’ve lived most of my adult life outside and in me van, so I guess it makes sense.”

“I find this interesting.”

“Is that a way to say that you would like a second trip some time?”

“Maybe, Bushman. It all depends on one thing, you see.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“The way that you decide to spend this night with me.”

“Well, we’ve got the cover here and no one around for miles…”

The gaze they exchanged in the night sealed their decision and as the day had started with their limbs entangled, it ended the same way. 

[writingithink]

All The Skies Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 6,740 Summary: After accidentally bonding, the Doctor and Rose start their honeymoon.

Notes: This is for Day 1 of @timepetalsweek !!  I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'dancing'. It is a follow up to my fic, In Case You Don't Stay Forever. There's not really a 'plot' for you to feel lost in if you don't feel like reading that as well. Thank you so much @hey-there-juliet for betaing!! (& honestly, convincing me that I could totally make up this planet). I own nothing (aside from mistakes).

READ IT ON AO3!! --> a copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379095

“Here we are! Neghlyvryn!” the Doctor announced, opening the TARDIS doors with a flourish as he stepped outside and into a city square. Banners and streamers were everywhere. Crowds of people (well, aliens) were just starting to form. He couldn’t help a smug smirk - he’d gotten it right. Good.

“Blimey, it’s hot!” Rose exclaimed, having just stepped out behind him.

He turned to watch as she fanned herself, barely taking in the festive atmosphere.

“I told you it would be.”

“Yeah, and I dressed for summer, too, but here we are! How are you wearing your suit right now?!”

“Superior temperature regulation,” he explained as he gave her outfit a once over (and then a twice over). She looked great in anything, that was a given, but the pink tank top and tiny denim shorts she currently had on were particularly flattering (even if the amount of skin they revealed would likely distract him all day).

Rose’s discomfort and irritation were still the most prevalent emotions he could feel across their bond, but a bit of pleasure and happiness shot through. Still, she wasn’t smiling.

“Well lucky you. What’s the temperature right now, anyway?” she asked.

He squinted up at the sky and did a slow spin.

“About 27 degrees.”

“I’ve gotta change. Maybe see if the TARDIS has some sort of fancy clothes to keep me cool,” Rose decided, turning around.

“Roooose,” he whined, “it’s the morning! And it’s only going to get hotter. If we wait too long, it won’t be safe for you to play Jikltaii unless you decide to wear an enviro-suit!”

She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back around and crossing her arms. “And just how much hotter is it gonna get?”

“Errr, somewhere around 34 degrees, give or take. This is the Rhibelini Festival! It’s like their summer solstice, except it only happens once every fifteen years when their three suns align.”

Shoulda mentioned three suns when I was gettin’ ready, Rose grumbled over the bond as she finally walked up to him and took his hand. “Alright then, let’s get goin’. But we better get somethin’ to drink before we play this game of yours.”

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically, almost skipping as he led them away from the TARDIS. 

This would be their second full day as a bonded pair, and while he still hadn’t had time to properly research it, he had been able to meditate and construct some barriers that would actually be effective … on his end, at least. Since Rose had been asleep during his meditation, they hadn’t been able to work on hers (however her telepathy even worked to begin with). So while he still got plenty from her end, he was able to keep a majority of his less relevant trains of thought from bothering her (and while he could have tried to keep things more private, it didn’t exactly seem fair). Plus, he loved being bonded to Rose Tyler, accident or not.

“So, tell me about this Jiggle-Tie thing we’re gonna do,” Rose prompted as they entered the queue for a street cart, fanning herself with the bottom of her top.

For a moment his eyes zeroed in on her belly button before he made himself look away, focusing instead on the line of people - which was already long now, so he could hardly imagine what it would look like later in the day.

“Jikltaii,” the Doctor repeated, “with a ‘K’. It’s kind of like paintball, but with sling shots. And it’s kind of like capture the flag, but there’s three teams. You see, the Neghlyvits believe that their planet was created when the three sun goddesses reached a truce after fighting amongst each other for billions of years. Each sun’s name corresponds to a goddess; Rhiza, Beltof, and Iniya. Each goddess has a color. Red, or rhiz, for Rhiza. Then there’s orange, or belti, for Beltof and yellow, or iniv, for Iniya. Three teams, three colors of paint.”

“Sounds fun.”

The line was moving slowly, and Rose finally began to take in the surroundings with a hand over her eyes to keep the suns out. He dug through his pockets until he found a pair of her sunglasses, handing them to her and feeling a wave of gratitude across their connection.

I love you, he couldn’t help thinking.

It was getting a little embarrassing. By his count, he’d now told her this 26 times telepathically since she woke up (verbally only twice, so that would make it 28 times total).

I love you too.

At least she always said it back, projecting enough affection to dispel his embarrassment.

“So, what happens when you win at Jikkle-Tie?” she asked.

“Mmm, well, Neghlyvryn is an incredibly peaceful planet, and their culture obviously emphasizes compromise. This festival is called Rhibelini - an amalgamation of all three goddesses names - because this is the time when the goddesses renew their truce. So the team that wins a game of Jikltaii’s corresponding color determines what flavor of frip everyone eats at the end.”

“Frip?”

“It’s an ice cream-type treat,” he explained, swinging their hands together as the queue moved forward.

“That’s good. I’m definitely gonna need some, runnin’ around with a slingshot in this heat.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the general consensus.”

Eventually they reached the front and the Doctor ordered four waters, two kivries, and a couple poofs (each cut in half). He also got directions for the closest Jikltaii field.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Rose informed him as he handed her a kivy and a water before putting everything besides his own kivy into his trouser pocket.

“I just didn’t want to wait in line again. Imagine what it will be like once midday comes around?”

Ugh, fair.

“So this is like a soda, yeah?” she asked, after guzzling half the water bottle and then dumping the rest over her head. The Doctor couldn’t help but follow a few droplets as they trailed down her neck. Temperature was now not the only thing he needed to regulate.

“Yup. Very fizzy. Hey! Fizzy Kivy! It rhymes! Look at that!”

She laughed, her entire mental presence much brighter now that she’d cooled down a bit. They both opened their bottles before beginning to walk towards the field.

“Oh! ’S like- like lemon and somethin’ else …”

“Like lemon and cucumber,” he scowled, eying the bottle with disdain.

Rose took another sip. “Not so bad.”

“Blegh. Do you want mine, then?”

“Not right now,” she giggled before coughing and then sneezing after getting fizz up her nose.

And he knew she was fine, but the Doctor couldn’t keep himself from stopping and rubbing her back … just to make sure.

You’re sweet. 

See, it’s rumors like that that make Absorbaloffs from Clom think that they can do whatever they’d like, he couldn’t help but think. He immediately regretted it, as Rose began brooding about everything her mum had been through. Tea yesterday had gone quite poorly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand again and quickly getting them to the Jikltaii field.

Once they’d paid - credits! He loved credits. So much easier than keeping track of specific currencies, even if he still didn’t quite understand the ins and outs of money - the attendant, a native male with fiery orange hair and the pale blue and brown speckled skin typical of most Neghlyvits, immediately began to divide everyone into teams.

“Iniv team,” he told Rose before turning to the Doctor. “Belti team.”

“B-but I want to be on Rose’s team!” he complained.

“Nope. Everyone’s divided by colors. Your hair is kind of orange.”

“But we’re on our honeymoon!”

A burst of affection came through the bond, though it was hardly noticeable over how hilarious his bondmate thought he was being. She could really do with being a bit more interested in their romantic endeavors.

Sorry .

I forgive you, the Doctor projected.

“May you lovingly cover each other with paint,” the attendant drawled before handing them each their appropriately colored paint balls and sling shots.

“And I suppose they’re on Iniv team, then?” the Doctor queried, pointing at the two aliens next to them - both green, covered in scales, and having no hair to speak of.

“Yes.”

Figured. Maybe he should have dyed his hair before this. Or worn a wig. How was he supposed to know that teams were chosen this way?

Rose sent a mental image of how he would look as a blonde. Ew. Nope. Not even a wig. Next time Rose would have to dye her hair. He already knew she looked fantastic as a brunette, he’d seen pictures.

“It’ll be fine,” she consoled him as the attendant began a speech about the rules.

Apparently you weren’t out as soon as you were hit - you just took a two minute time out and at the end of the game they would figure out which team had the most paint on them if no one captured any flags.

“I want to be on your team,” the Doctor pouted.

“I think it’ll be more fun this way. Winner owes the other one a favor,” Rose smirked. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once, and he caught images of him painting her toenails, folding her laundry, cooking her dinner and a few that were decidedly X rated that she probably wouldn’t need to use a favor to cash in.

Good to know.

Still, he didn’t fancy folding her laundry.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he decided. They shook on it. “What happens if Rhiz team wins?”

“We’ll call that a tie. Each owe the other a favor.”

Before he could argue that, it was time for the teams to move out to their respective starting points. He could have continued over the bond, but his team mates were vying for his attention as they talked strategy. 

It was just as fun as he thought it would be (though being on Rose’s team would have made it more fun). In the first fifteen minutes of the game, he didn’t see his wife anywhere. For a moment the Doctor worried that she had been assigned to guard their flag - how boring - but she was broadcasting much too much enjoyment and general competitiveness for that to be the case. Then he saw her head peeking out from behind a paint-caked wooden partition.

He ducked down, carefully keeping cover until he was right next to the barrier before he quickly jumped over it, shooting her twice before he landed clumsily on the other side.

“Ooof!” She may have said it aloud, but he was the one who had just landed hard on his bum. Really need to figure out how to turn off that part of the bond. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Not as fragile as you lot. No bruised tailbone.”

“Good,” Rose said, crawling over to him and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Still, I’ll probably need to check it later.” 

If they weren’t telepathically connected, her meaning would have been made quite clear by the way she nipped his ear. 

“Oh,” he squeaked, looking around to see if anyone was watching them as she climbed onto his lap. Then she was snogging him, and the Doctor really didn’t care if they were spotted. She was so warm and soft and the way her mind was caressing his was one of the best things in the Universe, he was sure of it. He groaned, pulling her closer, wanting more of something, though he wasn’t sure what and-

Loads of something wet and sticky ran down his head.

“Gotcha,” Rose whispered before she sprang to her feet and ran off.

The Doctor sat there for a moment, slightly dazed, trying to manually redirect his blood flow. Honestly, what kind of tactician was he to have overlooked the fact that Rose Tyler plays dirty? Apparently the answer to that question was: the kind of tactician who really wants to snog Rose Tyler. He shook his head, got up and regained his bearings.

It’s on, now, you minx, he sent across their bond.

All he got for his trouble was the telepathic equivalent of laughter.

“Friendly fire?” Uriit, one of the women on his team, asked when they ran into each other near a ropes section of the field.

He looked down at his shirt to find it smeared with orange paint. 

“Something like that,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck and giving his ear a tug.

Throughout the rest of the game, the Doctor purposefully projected the most random things he could think of to Rose over the bond, hoping to distract her. Rambling lessons about tea cultivation, pocket dimensions, the War of the Eternals, different library cataloguing methods throughout time and space. Anything. The problem was, she wasn’t getting nearly as distracted by his thoughts as he seemed to always be by hers.

So he gave up that plan and set his sights on capturing the Iniv team flag as if the planet were at stake. This got him a five minute time out for attempting to mess with the sprinkler system.

In the end, team Rhiz did end up winning but no one caught any flags.

“Did you have fun?” Rose asked him as they sat at a picnic table eating their rhizit frip (berry-ish and minty, possibly the best frip flavor anyway, though they all sounded good to him).

“I would have had more fun if we were on the same team,” he sulked.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll wear a wig, yeah?”

He shrugged. While the thought of her in a wig intrigued him, it didn’t fix today’s Jikltaii mishap. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. You can only play Jikltaii on your honeymoon once, after all.

“Rubbish,” Rose told him, “and you know it. Mum’s busy plannin’ a wedding as we speak. We’ll have another honeymoon before ya know it.”

“Oh.” The Doctor sat up straighter, suddenly much more interested in his frip and the topic of wigs. “I didn’t think of that. How many honeymoons do you think we could have?”

“Depends how many times you wanna get married,” she smiled, tongue between her teeth. He was certain that if he snogged her he’d be able to taste her rhizit frip. It probably tasted much better that way.

Later.

“But we don’t have any frip on the TARDIS,” he informed her, moving to sit on her side of the bench.

“Could get some.”

He blinked.

“Didn’t you just tell me the other day about how time doesn’t pass in your pockets?”

She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his kivry from earlier, still cold and fizzy.

“I hadn’t thought you were paying attention,” he admitted.

“I just tune out the technical parts.”

Rose finished up her dessert as if this wasn’t important information. Maybe for her it wasn’t. She was Rose Tyler so of course she wouldn’t have to learn new things about herself.

“Sooo,” the Doctor began, leaning his back against the table and stretching his legs in front of him, “earlier, when I was telling you all of that stuff and you didn’t get distracted …?”

“Kinda like havin’ the telly on in the background.”

Well that wasn’t very flattering.

She rolled her eyes. “I pay attention to the important stuff. And the interestin’ bits. But you’ve gotta admit, it’s kinda like you were playin’ the history channel.”

Fair enough.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked, hopping up off the table and grabbing their frip containers to take to the rubbish bin.

“Well, first things first, we definitely need to change.”

“Both of us?” He frowned, furrowing his brow. What was wrong with his suit?

“Doctor, we’re covered in paint.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, taking her hand and leading them toward the exit. “That’ll be dealt with in a mo’.”

To leave the area, everyone had to go through a small blue outbuilding. The Doctor watched Rose look around and saw the moment she noticed all of the drains in the floor.

“Wait-”

Water sprayed down on them. It lasted only a minute, and then the doors on the other side slid open.

“Better?” he asked as they stepped outside.

“Well, ’s better than disinfectant. And so refreshing right now.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the suns. Yup, about 31 degrees. He looked down at his suit - paint free (and drying very quickly).

“I still wanna change,” Rose said. They were walking hand in hand back toward the main city square. The crowds were dense around them, full of locals and tourists alike. The Rhibelini Festival was an intergalactic traveler’s must see. At least, that’s how the magazine had described it.

“You read about this in a magazine? What happened to them being dull?”

The Doctor huffed. “There wasn’t anything else to read or do at the time. We were trying to infiltrate that shady corporation on Arelenia II and I was sat in their waiting room. Had to blend in. Everyone else was reading those magazines they leave all over the place. In fact-” He dug into his jacket pocket “- here it is!”

“Why’d you take it?” she asked, grabbing it before attempting to read the cover page and walk at the same time.

“Well, it boasted the 250 must-see places for the experienced intergalactic traveler - that’s me. And I hadn’t been to some of them. I wanted the list. Also, the Geri Corporation committed many major human rights violations, and made me wait for almost an hour, so … they owed me.” He put his arm around Rose and led her to the side of the street before stopping and taking back the magazine. Should have known better, really. Rose Tyler and her magazines.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re not dull. They’re full of interesting stuff, and short for when you don’t feel like readin’ a whole novel.”

“The ones you read are always about clothes and makeup and gossip.”

“Useful, useful, funny.”

She may have him there - but he wasn’t going to admit it verbally. Her smug telepathic presence was enough, ta. They started walking again, Rose finally taking the time to people-watch.

“Those outfits, are they for somethin’ specific?” she asked, nodding toward a group of native girls wearing the traditional festival clothes - bralettes and asymmetrical skirts in yellow, orange, or red.

“Nope,” he replied, turning her attention to another crowd that had a mix of natives and tourists, most of whom were wearing the same basic outfit. Even a few men wearing the traditional skirt (though cut differently).

“It’s called a high-low.”

“What?”

“The skirts the girls got on. High-low.” Rose let go of his hand and placed hers at her mid-thigh. “High,” and then dropped it past her knees, “low.”

“Why would I ever need to know that?” the Doctor asked, puzzled.

She simply rolled her eyes, took his hand, and dragged him towards a row of shops. He tried to ignore her unflattering thoughts about men and shopping and blokes in general, figuring that he really wasn’t a man or a bloke so she couldn’t be referring to him. He hoped so, at least.

“I like their outfits, think I’d like to get one,” Rose told him as she began peeking into the shop windows.

“Okay.” Much better than going back to the TARDIS. More … festival-y.

So he tagged along behind her as she entered a boutique, hanging back when she went up to the counter and examining a display of hair accessories.

“Hello, I was wonderin’ if you could help me find a, uhm, traditional festival outfit,” Rose asked the clerk. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at the racks of said apparel that were plainly visible.

Yeah and are YOU an expert at the sizing here?

Deciding that she really must know best, the Doctor quietly left her to it, exiting the shop and letting her know telepathically that he’d be just outside. Outside was much more entertaining anyway. Buskers had begun playing, and there were pop up stalls, and all sorts of things to look at and do.

Would be better once Rose came back, though.

Still, couldn’t hurt to get the lay of the land. Have something planned for once she finished. It ended up being over forty-five minutes before Rose told him she was leaving the boutique, and he was down the other end of the block! That right there was some decent range. Eventually they were going to have to properly test how far apart they could telepathically communicate, but that could wait. The Doctor ran down the street, weaving between groups of tourists, before skidding to a standstill.

She was absolutely stunning.

The festival set she’d chosen was yellow - of course, really - with a gold (or iniyama) sun clasp at the centre of her bralette, and two tiny red and orange suns on each side near her arms. The skirt had a whispy white under-layer visible in the low part with little gold starbursts dotted around it.

If the goddess Iniya was real, he was certain that she would look just like Rose at this moment.

“Oh, Doctor,” she flushed before placing a hand on his cheek, pulling him down and kissing him. Unfortunately, as soon as he tried to deepen the kiss she pulled back.

Later.

He was getting tired of that word.

“C’mon, there’s activities this way,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her up the street.

“Hold your horses,” she laughed. “I’m gettin’ kinda hungry. We should eat those sandwiches you got.”

“Oh! Right! The poofs!”

“Poofs? Really?”

“Yup!” he told her, popping the ‘P’. 

It didn’t take long to find a picnic table - they seemed to be everywhere - and settle in with their food and another bottle of water. He wondered if he’d gotten enough.

“Huh. ’S like a fruity cold cut,” Rose commented after swallowing her first bite.

“Reminds me of blackberries,” he agreed. Definitely a better flavor combination than the kivry. He shuddered at the memory. Could still kind of taste it, even after the frip.

They were quiet, quickly eating the poofs, and then off back toward the fun. The Doctor glanced behind him as he led her through the crowd and was thrilled to see her smiling. Her mental presence was bright and happy and really, this was so amazing and such a great day. He should probably marry Rose Tyler as often as possible, so that they could keep going on honeymoons.

She laughed. “Y’know our life is travelin’ around, right?”

“Oh, but this is different! This is romantic traveling. Newlywed traveling.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Don’t you want to keep marrying me?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the street and pulling her closer.

“Mmm might do. Still, honeymoons generally last ‘bout a week. And we’ve got another wedding comin’ up. So how ‘bout we see how it goes.”

He kissed her, and once again she didn’t allow their tongues to even get a tiny bit involved.

Later.

Worst. Word. Ever.

He tilted his head back and let out a groan before continuing on until they reached the games area.

“It’s almost like a carnival!” Rose exclaimed, wandering over toward a water shooting game where winners could potentially get some chintzy star jewelry. “Gonna win me a bracelet?” she asked with a cheeky smirk, cocking her hips to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“As you wish,” the Doctor said with a mock-bow, walking up to the booth and picking up a water gun.

The game was rigged. Should be illegal, that. Ended up having to play six times just to get one dinky plastic bracelet, and the rhizala (metallic red) paint was noticeably chipping. He handed it to Rose with a frown.

“I love it,” she told him, immediately putting it on.

And the strange thing was that he could tell that she meant it.

“But- but it’s so cheap and they wouldn’t let me pick it out myself, so I couldn’t get the gold one, and-”

“I love it ‘cause you got it for me. And I’m keepin’ it forever,” she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek.

Well. That was okay, then.

The next games stand they walked up to had a big banner atop it that said ‘Grizchootinki’ and appeared to be bobbing for apples, except the fruits were definitely not apples.

“How ‘bout I win you something?” Rose suggested, pointing at the stuffed toys hanging above the water barrel. She attempted to pull him toward the stand, but the Doctor would not budge.

“Why play that game when we could do this?” he blindly pointed to the stand across from it, then looked to see what it was.

Face painting.

Ehh …

She raised an eyebrow but still allowed him to take them over there, all the while not saying a word about how closed off he’d made their bond. Honestly, Rose had much more restraint than he did and he wasn’t sure how she did it. Still, he was grateful.

Or not. Once they got to the booth he noticed that his wife had a rather wicked gleam in her eye.

“Oh, you look wonderful!” the artist told Rose. “I have the perfect iniyama pattern for you. It will match your outfit so well!”

“Thanks,” she smiled, “but if you could do him first? He was super excited to come get his face done up.”

How had he gone so long without realizing that she was evil?

“Of course! Have a seat! We’ll have you looking more festive in no time. Definitely beltofana paint for you,” the artist said. Before he knew it the Doctor found himself seated, getting his face painted.

And it took ages.

“Alright, let’s see it,” he announced as soon as it was finished, pasting on a smile he really wasn’t feeling.

Oh, don’t be a baby.

Must have let the barriers slip while being tortured. Not surprising. (Also, it was incredibly hard to block the bond - it definitely did not want to be closed. Really had to get to that research).

You’re how old, now? Rose’s smile, at least, was genuine. And she wasn’t laughing (except in his head) so he must not look too ridiculous.

“No, wait until you’re both finished. It will be better if you see together.”

During his face painting, Rose and the artist had chatted. Once they found out that he and Rose were on their honeymoon, they got ideas. So he leaned against the booth and watched as she got her face painted. And it really did look lovely on her. But of course it did. Everything did. Weeeell, most things. To be fair, some things were designed to not look good on anybody - dinner lady uniforms came to mind. Even then, she was the best looking dinner lady of all of them. Though the rest were Krillitanes. Eh, still.

I love you, Rose’s telepathic voice rang in his head. 

And he’d been trying so hard all day to not keep saying it after this morning’s slightly insane overuse of the phrase, but now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever stopped saying it.

(Multiple marriage proposals may have had something to do with it).

I love you, too. So, so much.

Waiting to be able to touch her until her face was finished became incredibly difficult. But he managed. Barely.

(There was a brief moment where he sat on the ground next to her and rested his head against her hip, but he didn’t like the knowing look the artist gave him and decided to go back to leaning against the booth).

Then finally, finally she was done. 

The artist brought out a mirror from behind her booth and set it up for them to look. And as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, they had done a spectacular job. Both of their faces were decorated with intricate swirls and stars, the patterns somehow mirroring each other. The Doctor had a feeling that if he were to somehow overlay just the artwork, it would become one piece.

“This is so great!” Rose exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Now, the face paint is waterproof. It will fade naturally within the next week. If you need it removed before then, there is an alcohol solution that will speed up the process. I do sell it, if you need it.”

He was positive that he could easily make the solution himself on the TARDIS, but with Rose’s mental nudging he ended up buying some from the artist when he paid for the painting. He also left a very generous tip.

“Alright, so tell me,” she said out of seemingly nowhere as they walked away from the booth.

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want me to win you a stuffed, er, whale thingy.”

“It’s a star whale. They’re actually extinct. Funny thing about star whales-”

“Doctor.”

With a sigh he turned toward her, dropping her hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d be bobbing for choots.”

“And?”

“They taste like pears,” he informed her.

“So? I’d be the one bobbin’ for ‘em.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But?”

“Then you’d taste like choots.”

Rose burst out laughing, her amusement apparently so great that she could hardly remain upright. It really wasn’t that funny. She just laughed harder.

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself. Really, this is completely unnecessary. It’s almost suns-set! Ever watched three suns set at once? Rose! Stop laughing!”

She pulled herself together slowly, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I’m gonna bob for choots.” 

This obviously wasn’t up for debate, so bob for choots she did. And her game obviously wasn’t rigged like his had been. That or the game attendant with the wandering eyes was giving his wife preferential treatment. The Doctor glared at the adolescent until the boy looked properly terrified. And Rose had really only gotten enough choots to win a medium sized star whale, but the kid handed her the big one before sending them on their way.

“Ya didn’t have to go all ‘Oncoming Storm’ on ‘em,” she informed him while handing over the giant toy. Honestly, what was he supposed to do with this right now? He may have bigger-on-the-inside pockets, but they required the object to at least be pocket sized before going in.

“He was leering at my wife,” the Doctor muttered, trying to see if he could slowly squish the star whale into his jacket pocket, and failing.

Rose shook her head before swatting his hand away from his pocket. “Let’s just go back to the TARDIS and drop him off.”

“Him?”

“Don’t you think he looks like a boy?”

“I’m not sure star whales have genders.”

“Well, it’s your star whale, so whatever you want. Whatcha gonna name ‘em?”

“I … haven’t given it any thought. I’ll get back to you on it. We’ll have to be quick if we want to stop back at the TARDIS and catch the suns-set. Which I do. You’re going to want some sort of jumper or something anyway. It gets chilly once the suns go down,” he told her, finally managing to hold her hand and the stuffed animal at the same time.

It ended up being slow going. He could hardly see past the star whale, so Rose had to lead them and she was much more polite while walking in a crowd than he was. Also they had to walk. Couldn’t run with the star whale. Once they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor opened the door and chucked the stuffed animal into the console room.

“Aww poor star whale,” Rose pouted, as if the stuffed animal had feelings.

“Sammy is fine,” he assured her. “Now go fetch a coat, quick, or we’ll miss it.”

“Sammy the Star Whale?”

“Yes. Love me some alliteration. Now off you pop!”

Rose bit her lip, glanced in the TARDIS and then back to him. “It’d take ages for me to find something that looks good with this outfit. I don’t think we’ve got time.”

He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that she’d look good in anything. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference. She already knew he thought that, after all (not to mention it was now likely being repeated). It mattered to her, though, and she was right - the way she could dither around the wardrobe room, it would take ages.

“Alright, c’mon then,” he said, quickly grabbing his coat off a nearby strut and then her hand after locking the TARDIS. “I’ll keep you warm. Run!”

They sprinted through a few back alleys before he found a fire escape that didn’t look to be on the verge of collapse, and they ended up atop a grocers. The sky was already turning a deep orange as he fanned out his coat on the roof for them to sit on.

Rose cuddled into his side, lying her head on his shoulder as they settled in to watch the three suns set on Neghlyvryn. Orange slowly faded into pink and then purple, and six of the eight moons became visible.

“Can we hold hands and watch the sky together, forever?” he asked her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head,

“Forever is a long time to watch the sky, dontcha think?”

“Oh, but not just this sky. All of the skies.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Yeah,” he breathed into her hair.

“Well, that’s alright then,” Rose decided.

“Good.”

Then he realized that they were finally alone, that later had finally arrived. So he kissed her. And she tasted like choots, but it was okay. Well, it wasn’t okay, but he could get past it. Kind of.

Without much thought or planning the Doctor tipped them both over and he was on top of her, tongue exploring her mouth as if it was uncharted territory (and it kind of was, since he had never thought to actually map it the previous times they’d snogged). Rose moaned, pulled him impossibly closer, wrapped a leg around his hip, and he forgot all about mentally charting her mouth.

He was finally able to touch all of the tantalizing skin she’d had exposed all day, teasing him.

I love you, he projected across the bond and he didn’t care how often he told her. She needed to know.

I love you, too.

And maybe he needed to hear it. Just a bit.

He ran a hand up her back and felt her shiver �� and then shiver some more.

When he pulled back, Rose was gasping for breath and still shivering.

“Sorry, here,” he said, helping her to stand before picking his coat up off the ground and wrapping it around her before holding her close.

“Y’know you’re not exactly warm, right?”

Actually, he’d forgotten. But really, after snogging Rose Tyler he felt like he was on fire , so-

Oh. Right.

“C’mon, I know just the thing!” he told her with a grin, letting her go and then taking her hand to lead her back down from the roof. 

Soon enough they were back in the city square, where three gigantic bonfires had been lit, surrounded by many smaller fires. The entire area and surrounding blocks we covered in red, orange, and yellow paper lanterns in various star shapes. It was quite warm.

They made a beeline towards the closest big fire.

“This is more like it,” Rose smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder. “Is it just me, or is the fire … glittery?”

“Nope, not just you. They call it ‘bip powder’. It’s also what’s making it smell like incense right now, instead of your usual wood-burning-smell.”

“I like it. We should get some of that, too.”

“Could do. But when do we ever have fires?” He looked down at her, furrowing his brow.

“In the TARDIS library?” Rose reminded him, complete with telepathic images of his own ship.

“Ohhh the TARDIS wouldn’t want bip powder in her grates. It’s … messy … and- and … the smell reminds her of hippies. The TARDIS is not a fan. I was talking about fires outside of the TARDIS.”

Even as the words fell out of his gob, he knew that his bondmate wasn’t going to buy it. Of course not. And it wasn’t really lying, so much as saving face, but none of that could be accomplished with a permanent telepathic connection.

“Don’t need to be in your head to know you’re full of it,” Rose informed him with a light smack to his bottom. She was still smiling, though, and her mind felt calm and happy and warm next to his, so at least he hadn’t upset her.

I don’t think I want you touching my bum in public, he lightly scolded her telepathically.

Says the alien who spent most of the day trying to shove his tongue down my throat?

“I did not!” the Doctor exclaimed, offended.

“Whatever you say.” Rose rolled her eyes and then her attention was taken by the music starting up. It was whimsical and cheery, but with a steady drumbeat that could be felt through your feet. And all at once, everyone started dancing around the fires, the locals doing a specific number with some tourists trying to copy it while others just did their own thing.

She took both his hands and pulled him into the dance, quick to catch on to the different stomping patterns and waves of hands. He was happy to follow her lead. Happy to dance with her. Happy to make this day last as long as he possibly could. Against the background of the fire, Rose looked even more like a goddess.

Doesn’t have to end. We’re on our honeymoon.

Visions of hotel rooms and many things that distracted him from dancing, nearly causing him to trip, flashed across the bond.

“Right you are, Rose Tyler.”

This time he knew better than to interrupt the dancing, dragging her off to the next great idea. They didn’t stop dancing until they reached the furthest bonfire, having moved through the square in a winding line. The dance wasn’t over, would go well into the night, but Rose’s feet were beginning to tire after being on them all day.

So as much as he wanted to run to the nearest hotel, he didn’t. They walked slowly, and she drank the last of their water, listening to the music and watching the seemingly unending dance.

When they eventually found a hotel - the Doctor didn’t feel like stopping to ask for directions - the lobby was empty of other guests, only a lone receptionist sitting at the desk.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?”

“No, no reservation. We’d like to book a room.”

The receptionist blinked.

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no rooms available. We’ve been fully booked for the festival for years.”

“For years? Really? Suppose that makes sense. Do you know of anywhere else in the area-”

“Everyone’s been fully booked for years.”

The Doctor frowned, then had them check the database just in case he did have a reservation - sometimes time travel could get around these things, tiny circular paradox. But they didn’t. Not anywhere in the city.

“Would you like to book a room for the next festival?”

He was about to say no, but then Rose said, “We’d love to. Honeymoon suite, if you can.”

Once everything was settled, they were back on the streets, still hotel-room-less for the present.

“What good did that do us?” he asked. “We’ve a room, but not for 15 years.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a time machine, and apparently countless other honeymoons to go on. Can do the festival again, and next time we play Jikltaii I can wear a wig.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

“Still, what do we do now?”

“May not have a hotel room, but we still have the TARDIS.”

“But that’s not honeymoon-y. That’s- that’s where we live.”

“I think we can still manage to make it honeymoon-y,” Rose smirked, as a bunch of very graphic scenarios filtered into his mind.

They ran back to the TARDIS.

They didn’t make it past the console room.

They didn’t even really make it out of their clothes.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXII: Wendy City

As I sat outside with a few friends at the break of dawn, my mind kept returning to just last night. That scene couldn’t be shaken away and while those folks conversed with pudding cups and oranges in hand, I mulled over that lady’s words.

“Rhea? Is that you?” She asked.

“Rheain’t,” I should’ve replied with. Rather than such a statement as, “now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years.” God damn, could I have been any more ambiguous? Sure, it made sense to me at the time, but I probably gave my would-be bounty hunter the wrong impression.

Now that I thought of it, we were similar in stature and I suppose (although it was a bit of a stretch) that in the dark, my purple hair could have been mistaken for her blue. Still...the implications of being mistaken for such a person left me just a little unsettled.

Pensive, I fixed my gaze on the space between the four of us, then allowed a smile to form.

“Last night I ran into someone who mistook me for an old co-worker of mine,” I announced to the group.

My arms were crossed and I glanced around now and took note of the food in each person’s hand; Otis, with his thick red mittens which held a queen sized candy bar. Gloria, frail and heavy in perfume (who knows how she got hold of such a thing) shook her hands as she spooned pudding into her mouth. Bernard, whose brown and balding hair matched his brown leather clothing, all full of holes. He held an orange in his hand. All the while, my stomach growled.

“You had a job?” Bernard grunted in disbelief.

“Yes, I had a job. Why is that so hard to believe?” I protested. “In fact, it was a little over a couple years ago that I was laid off. Well, all of us were laid off. The company is no more. Just like that office building beside us. Whatever occupied it once doesn’t occupy it now.”

In some respects, good riddance. In others, good grief.

“What kind of job was it?” Gloria, now interested, set down her pudding cup and asked. Bless her frail heart.

Now what can I tell them to make it palatable?

“We were housekeepers, of sorts,” was the answer I came up with.

“What, like you cleaned houses?” Bernard again.

I put my elbow over my knee, palm on my forehead, and shook my head.

“We cleaned...messes. Going from place to place, each of us with our little jobs. Some of us were really good at getting rid of things, while others, it was more about tidying up or moving things around. Brooms, mops, sprays, vacuums, feather dusters. You name it. Everyone had their specialty.”

In truth, our organization never had a name. Those who knew of us outside of the organization would call us ‘janitors’. Then again, some of us did as well. That, or something like it. Custodians, waste disposal, cleaners, plumbers, renovators, whatever. To think that it all stemmed from a joke we all passed around about how we ‘cleaned up after others’ messes’. Then again, how many messes did we clean up and how many did we make?

“You know, back in the day there used to be a term for mafia hitmen. ‘Guy who paints houses’. Were you something like that?” Otis at last gave some input, and I wondered where he heard that bit of trivia. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

“No, nothing like that,” I chuckled. “Get that idea out of your head.”

Because it’s too close to the truth for comfort.

“Anyway, about this old co-worker of mine…” I began, but I was no storyteller; I could spend the rest of my bloody life reminiscing, but that didn’t mean I could give a recollection worth a damn. Yet I tried. Important or not, the need to tell these strangers I’ve shared light meals with tugged at me. “What you have to understand is that many of us shared a bond together. Despite the fact we’d always have our jobs at different places from one another and although sometimes we’d be asked to work as a group or paired together, more often than not, we were off doing our own thing. But we still got together, whether it be at taverns, or the…” headquarters. “Office.”

I paused. Not for effect. Not for feedback. But for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure what name to give this mystery co-worker.

“So if you think of us like a grade school classroom, this co-worker, let’s call her Rhonda. Rhonda…Civic. Yeah, that works. Anyway, Rhonda would’ve been the quiet kid in the back. She kept to herself, didn’t really interact with anyone, and had a few quirks. Some odd ways of speaking. Feeling. Others picked up on it, and of course, like a grade school, she’d get teased. Others would talk about her behind her back,” kinda what I’m doing now, except how else am I supposed to talk about someone who’s no longer around?

“I’ve had situations like that,” Bernard grunted as he gave his input. “I used to operate a forklift for a pet food company. Me an’ the boys would shoot the shit when the manager wasn’t watchin’. Most of us, ‘nyway. There was this youngish guy, flannel shirt and overalls. Same attire every day. Didn’t know how he got away wit’ it, but that’s what he wore. He moved bag after bag of dog food, but never once so much as said hi. Not a peep from the kid. We all thought it was weird. Anyway, he quit one day, we never found out why, and that was that. I didn’t even think much of him ‘til you mentioned somethin’.”

“Yeah, it was the same for me,” I replied, and I looked up at the clouds in the sky. “Funny that, I didn’t think much of her back when I worked for that company and now out of the blue someone mistook me for her and it was like, ‘oh yeah…’”

“What about you, Wendy? You’re always off on your own at night, going at it with your projects,” he countered.

“We all have our eccentricities,” I concurred. “I’m also not much for conversation, either, most of the time, but I still enjoy the company of others. If for nothing else than the spectacle.”

It was far too early in the morning, but how I wished to have a warm cup of tea or sake in my hands so I could take little sips as I spoke.

“I never thought anyone outside of the company ever knew her, be it an old friend or an old enemy,” I carried on, unsure if I had any conclusion to this or if it was just early morning rambling.

“What? You think she had enemies?” Otis spat and I could swear that bits of chocolate just flew right by me.

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. There wasn’t really anything I knew about her apart from I heard. Sure, I watched her a few times, but that didn’t tell me much. Whether she had friends or enemies, I could never tell. When I think back on it, I wish I did know. That I had tried to find out more. But it’s kind of that whole ‘you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone’ type of thing. Then again, here she is gone, and I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“Gone?” Gloria must have taken notice of my choice of words. For the record, I didn’t know what became of her. Not any more than I knew what became of the rest of the people I once associated with. Considering that I couldn’t go back to the headquarters (not that I had any desire to return), I had to assume they were all dead and that the place was no more. It made the most sense to me.

“Yeah. Terminated. It’s funny that way, how to them we were all replaceable and they had no problem exploiting us, but even that couldn’t save them.”

“Damn if I don’t know that,” Otis bemoaned. “I have a nephew, and my nephew has a friend who was working when a sign fell on him. Broke his leg. Next thing he knew, management fired him, worker’s comp didn’t cover for his injury, and when he tried to sue, the company’s lawyers blocked him. Then, I knew this other guy who did what he was supposed to. But he got paid scraps and the stress got to him, so one day he came to work all hopped up on coke and his boss fired him on the spot. All those days of doing what he was told and scraping by, and one day was all it took for it to come crashing down. He ended up killing himself some time after that,” after those last words came a sniffle. No tears, though. Maybe it was a runny nose.

I shook my head. Sympathy and grief was a difficult thing to muster given the life I had; countless moments of killing and watching others die. Those I worked with, laughed and shared drinks with, gone at any moment. It wasn’t a case of ‘kill or be killed’, but it was a life defined by the death of others, all the same. So what I felt when Otis relayed his tales of people he knew, all I could feel was hatred and disgust. If I knew their bosses, I would have killed them on the spot.

“You okay, Wendy?” Otis’ voice of concern broke through my thoughts. How I must have stared with that same pensive look I often did when lost in thought.

“It’s just not right, though, is it?” I glanced from person to person as I asked, my question rhetorical in nature. They all shook their heads and murmured, “no” or “not at all”.

Then Bernard waved his hand away and grumbled.

“Bah! Right, wrong, who gives a damn? I’m still alive,” he retorted, then turned to his back and laid himself down over sheets of newspaper.

That was a point I was willing to consider. To some, there was a profound difference between ‘alive’ and ‘survive’, but really, he was no less alive than someone with the privilege of a roof over their head and a bed to sleep in. Food in the pantry and some form of stability. Such things were all an illusion, anyway. People get busy, food goes bad. Bills pile up, costs increase, wage stays the same. To compensate, work extra hours, sleep less. Everything comes at a price few can afford and the compromises are seldom in one’s favor. Locked into a system in which the average person is always just on the verge of homelessness, yet the state of being homeless itself was punished.

Once I had asked Bernard, “if you were given a home, would you take it?” Based on that premise some other minds had, that people such as Bernard only lived that way because they wanted to. That it’s ‘on them’ or whatever. His response? Something like, “show me something that won’t be taken from me, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

That may have sounded like, “I’m here because I want to,” but at least to me, the difference couldn’t have been any more clear.

But enough rants. I stretched my arms out and yawned, then smiled a cheeky grin.

“Well, you know what they say, duty calls,” I announced as I got up. “Time for me to go digging for cash and get myself a bite to eat.”

That was how I went about most of my day: I’d get up, chat with a few folks around the docks, walk around the city ‘til I got a bit of cash, spend it on deep dish pizza and cheap beer (the staple of Chicago), then head back to the docks, bathe in the lake water, and resume my work in the office building. One of those days I’d have working lights, and then I could get to work on giving those folks a more comfortable place to sleep at night. Something like a home. Although it was unfortunate to think that in the eyes of the law, they’d still be considered homeless. Even the most idealistic of endeavors could result in a losing battle.

Whatever actions I might have to take in the future, I focused on the agenda for the day. It was during the day in which I was neither a rumor nor a killer. Daylight meant that I was just a person. Hell, at times a superhero; case in point, an old lady gave me a few bucks after I got her cat out of a tree (yes, as cliché as it was, such a thing happened quite often). Soon after that, I headed down to Cosmo Corner (a popular downtown tavern).

It was about noon now and my favorite bartender would be in soon: Wanda. Nice young lady, all covered in tattoos. At least a dozen on each arm, when I first met her I thought she was part of a crime ring or in a street gang, but nah. Apparently on the side, she liked to paint in her studio, but that was as hardcore as she got. Oh, well, being a bartender could be hardcore too. Not everyone can handle being a bartender.

Right now it was Stickbug (no, I don’t know why he was called that, but everyone called him that. Maybe that’s just his name). Fitness guru with a pencil thin mustache who was disastrous at mixing drinks. But amiable, I’d give him that. None of the conversations he’d strike up were ever ones I was interested in having, but he didn’t have a mean word to say about anyone. Maybe that was the problem: you had to have boundaries. You couldn’t show everyone the same level of sympathy.

“Say Wendy, have you heard of the fall of Constantinople?” Stickbug asked whilst he flung glass after glass in the air and began juggling them. Upon a quick glance, I noticed that there weren’t many people at the moment. Fine enough. I guess no one would give him dirty looks. As for me, I let my head fall onto the counter, the effects of my lack of sleep setting in.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied.

“D’ya wanna hear about it?” He continued to ask, and I already knew how insistent he could be with his topics.

“No,” I told him, to no avail.

“Okay, so we’ve got this city named Istanbul and…” he began, but it didn’t take long for my thoughts to drown out anything else he said.

Why couldn’t I have come in just a little bit later? No, it’s not bad. I could learn things if I listen, I’m just not in the mood to do so. I just want to eat and drink and...oh. Oh my. This must be what Rhea had to deal with all the time...wanting to order food, but never wanting to socialize. Not to mention how anxious she seemed to be in any situation that didn’t have to do with violence. Girl could kick ass but had trouble ordering a sandwich at a sub shop. Not to mention the general bodily discomfort she apparently dealt with.

‘I, and I cannot stressed this enough, am stressed’ I imagine she must have said at one point or another. Seemed to fit, anyway. That, or ‘I, and I cannot stress this enough, need a sweater’ or a blanket. Ugh. Why am I thinking of some weirdo who had such a minuscule presence in my life? Could it have to do with that woman last night? Yeah, probably. Well, a name’s a name. It could have been anyone named ‘Rhea’. Hell, the one I’m thinking of used a different name for each person she met, so I doubt anyone would know her by that name. Probably something else instead, like Sharpay D. Em.

Anyway, I ought to be thinking of more important things. Like the fact that the woman last night wanted to kill me. First of all, couldn’t she have waited? I was busy and I don’t really like being interrupted from my work. All I’m asking for is some fair warning and furthermore –

“...And that is why if you suspect you have a mouse in your home, you should leave a piece of cheese on the floor overnight,” Stickbug seemed to have concluded his little history lesson, except I must have missed many steps, because I wasn’t really sure how we got there.

“Wait, what?” I lifted my head and asked with a dull expression planted on my face.

“Want me to start all over?” He beamed, and I’m sure he could have talked all day and night if someone let him.

“How about later? Isn’t your shift over soon?” I reminded him with a slight sense of pride.

“Oh yeah! You’re right! So glad I got someone to remind me! Otherwise I’d be here all day!”

And nobody wants that. Hell, I don’t even think you’d want that.

“Before you go, I may as well order, seeing as I haven’t done that yet.”

“Oh no!” He gasped. “I hope you haven’t been hungry!”

Funny to think that his concern is real and not sarcasm.

“In fact, I am hungry right now,” I corrected him. “By the way, I’ll get my usual: pepperoni and spinach, large.”

“Right on!” I handed him the cash I had gotten from that old lady earlier. I still had some left over for sake, but I wanted to wait until Wanda got in.

I wonder what kind of food that woman from last night likes to eat. I feel like she’d eat chicken legs and large chunks of steaks. Just, a lot of steak. You know, why am I wondering such a thing? I’ve got better things to think about.

About five minutes later and a glass of water downed, Stickbug waved goodbye. In his place came Wanda with a bandanna over her head and covered in sweat which ran down her face.

“Intense painting session?” I asked.

She wiped her forehead and huffed.

“You know it. Were you waiting for me?”

“Heh,” I flashed her a smile. “It’s just not the same with Stickbug.” Really, how did that name come about? I think he said his name was Steven once, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.

“Is that so?” She asked, then went to the back to put her stuff away and get settled in. About the same time she came back out, the pizza arrived as well.

I took a heaping slice as layer upon layer of cheese and bits of spinach fell off of the pizza and back down onto the plate, unable to sustain itself on the thick cake of dough. Upon taking a large bite, my mouth was filled with the warm and gooey taste along with the combination of squishy spinach and savory pepperoni. One strong gulp later, and I was ready to take a drink. Next to me was my cup of sake, and when I looked up, Wanda winked.

“By the way, someone came in last night asking about any abandoned buildings,” Wanda mentioned as I sipped my cup of sake.

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, which came out more like a “mm-hmm.”

“Yeah. I just told her about the office building you’ve been hanging out in.”

I spat out my drink. Some might have gotten on her apron, but that was her problem, not mine.

“What did you do that for?! I don’t want people coming in and interrupting me while I’m working!”

Then I thought it over.

“Say, what did she look like?”

She put her finger on her chin and looked up.

“Hmm...big and muscular, brown poofy hair.”

Ugh. Yeah.

“Oh yeah. She came by and visited. Tried to kill me,” I replied, almost nonchalant about the whole ordeal, despite how much it had been on my mind.

“What? Are you serious?” She balked.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

“Yeah, but she wasn’t hard to deal with or anything.”

My main concern was why she was there at all. It’s not that I never expected anyone to come after me, especially when I all but deserted my job. But when no one came, I just expected that I was free and I could live out my life as I pleased.

“Jeez, did you kill her?” She accused. Rather baseless, too.

“No,” I scoffed. “I just sent her back home. Don’t know why she went after me, either.”

“Look, Wendy, I know you’ve killed people. Can’t really say I didn’t see something like this coming.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong: I get why, I just don’t get why, y’know?”

She shook her head.

“It’s like, she said there was a request for my death. She didn’t even know who I was, she mistook me for someone else. What I don’t get is why, rather, how such a request came about. Like, someone knows about me, but is sending people who don’t know about me to do the job.”

“Well, do you know what the request says?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then maybe whoever made it didn’t know who you were either, but noticed some things around the area.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It was all too possible I was overthinking things. But when it came to things like that, a fair deal of suspicion was necessary. “Whatever the case, if such a request like that is out there, then I doubt the person last night will be the only one.

“It’s kind of an open secret among the circle you talk to that you’re the one behind the murder of those cops. I don’t blame you, plenty of people around here don’t like the police and I really do wish you well, but most people don’t have the privilege to do what you do. Most people don’t have the ability to murder those they see as committing an injustice. Not only that, but most people don’t have confidantes that would be willing to keep their secret. You know why?”

Great. Just what I wanted while I was at the bar with some good food and drinks: a lecture.

“If you’re going to tell me because it’s illegal, I’m going to argue that it’s only illegal if you don’t have a badge and a uniform. Most serial killers are the ones who are hired by the state and demand your respect.”

Her face lowered and she turned from me.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not saying I disagree, just that the average person isn’t capable of doing such things, even if they wanted to. Even if they ignored the legality, it doesn’t matter. Just as you said, you’ve got got hordes willing to kill whoever they see fit without consequence, decked in highly-militarized outfits and weapons. Their numbers are too great, their power is too great, and if you even show the least bit resistance, they’ll throw in the rest of the military alongside them. So the best most of us can ask for is to avoid them as much as possible. But here you go, picking off anyone who rubs you the wrong way and not only do you manage to sneak on by and keep going, but it’s like you boast about it, too.”

“I don’t boast – I never said I enjoy it.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, sorry.”

“But you’re right: I am very fortunate. In the past, I’ve evaded my demise and have slaughtered entire armies that wished to pursue me. I’m not saying that to boast, though it is quite a feat, I admit. I’ve had a long life, a storied and bloody past, and I really wish I could stay out of trouble, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Old habits, I guess.”

“You’re not that old, are you? You don’t look much over thirty.”

I managed a chuckle.

“Would you believe me if I said I was well over five hundred years old?”

“Quit joking around.”

It’s not exactly wrong. I was born sometime early in the Sengoku period, but time travel sure does let you skip ahead a few years. There’s no way I could explain something like that, though.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a good skincare routine.”

That time, I was joking. There’s no way in hell that bathing in Lake Michigan would preserve your youth.

“Either way, I’m used to not sticking around places for very long. If things get too hot, I’ll leave town. So don’t worry about me,” I assured Wanda.

“I’d like it if it wouldn’t have to come to that,” she replied. “You’re a good customer, and make for good conversation.”

Well, I couldn’t say I wasn’t flattered, but hopefully she wouldn’t hold it against me if I did decide to ditch this place, reside elsewhere and try to lay low. Eventually I would have liked to settle down and be an old lady. Maybe knit sweaters in my spare time, or get a dog and a garden. Become the friendly old lady in the neighborhood that no one knows anything about.

None of that was likely. People like me weren’t meant to last long. As far as age went, I was already pushing it and as far as I knew, I really wasn’t much over thirty. It was just hard to tell where in my thirties, since my concept of time has been all screwed up.

I left the bar soon after. Despite my enjoyment of Wanda’s presence, my head just wasn’t as much in it as I thought it would be. So, still middle of the day, I returned to the docks, ready to get back to work.

I still don’t have the solution. Not enough power. Every time I think I’ve got a spark, it only lights one area. What I need is a lightning rod. Maybe I could stand one of my swords up to the roof to collect electricity. Or antennae. No. That still wouldn’t be enough, not without the right circuitry and places to send the electricity to. There’s more than one component and I can’t just do one without the other. If I’m lucky, there might be some generators downstairs I haven’t discovered. But even if I have to steal or build power generators, I want to give these places a semblance of a home. Some place to rest.

But even if I’m successful, it still wouldn’t be legal for them to reside there. What would I do, then? Fight off a whole force? Or would I run with the knowledge that I would be outnumbered? When I consider the eventual outcome, it was a futile effort and good intentions will only get me so far.

I shook my head as I entered the darkened building through an opening with a loose board. If that woman had been more attentive, she would have seen that not all of those boards were as well covered, and one of them actually served as a door.

Inside, an absence of light. I reached to my right and grabbed my helmet and katana which lay on top of a tall cabinet.

Upon placing the helmet on my head, I had a much clearer view of my surroundings. The infrared visor on my helmet allowed me to see in the dark, albeit some objects showed up blurry.

Outside, it was still light. Dusk wasn’t expected for another few hours. In other words, I had time. I could do my work in peace, take a little nap, not worry about anything. If no one was going to come after me until well after dark, then I could prepare.

So I did just that; I patrolled the area, climbed up each floor, checked out each room, then headed back down to the first floor. All around the first floor I searched for a hatch or a door, a flight of stairs, something that would lead to a basement. No such luck. It seemed that there were no passages, hidden or otherwise. No basement. No generators.

Maybe that’s what I’ll have to resort to. I’ll have to dig out a basement, fill it with concrete, get some generators built or setup...argh! Why is it so hard to get this going? I should just tell everyone, “sorry guys, I know I hate to make false promises, but looks like I just set my sights too high!”

I sunk down to the floor along a wall, right next to a door which would have led to someone’s office.

“Who am I kidding? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t leave before I get the chance to figure this out.”

I leaned my head over and soon felt the weight of the darkness creep up on me as it guided me to a gentle sleep.

When I awoke, I brought myself up to my feet and decided to climb up the many flight of stairs once more.

If I’m lucky, I’d like to at least get the elevator working. Something.

Short rests were all that were ever afforded to me. If I had gotten three hours or more, that was oversleep for me. With the way my body operated, perhaps adapted, I never worried myself with dreams. On the rare occasion where I had a dream, they were brief windows, photographs, still frames cascading down. Images of being beheaded. Of watching my head roll down into a river. Typical things like that. Such things weren’t memories, but just reminders of what should have been long ago.

Never mind. Several flights later, I saw the bits of collapsed roof on the floor. Above, the glow of the moon illuminated the floor. It was the only source of light I was afforded, save for the helmet.

So I see. It’s evening now.

“Damn, couldn’t she have found a different way in other than breaking down the roof? Now I’m going to have to repair that as well…”

If another came after me, I really hoped they wouldn’t drop down from the roof. That would make things too easy for me.

I’m going to consider that it’s still too early for something like that. Not that I have a watch or a phone, but I doubt it’s been night for very long. I just can’t imagine anyone attacking me until late into the night. Any time earlier and it would just be rude.

Just like the night before, I went down to where the top of the elevator was, along with the open panel in the wall. If I had to start somewhere, I figured I’d get done what I could. That was, if I could get anything done at all.

So as I crouched down and got to work, my helmet lifted as I did so. I struck a match and held it between my lips as I worked, plucking it out every now and then to help bind the wires together. There were two wires left with just a little bit of juice. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, then held the two wires together and rubbed them; as soon as there was a spark, I used the flame from the match to bind them together. Behind me, a couple rooms away, a light turned on.

Now let’s hope it stays on. Which reminds me: I need to get new light bulbs.

One day, if I ever got (or built) a generator and a basement to place it in, I would test the breaker board. It would be a beautiful sight if one day the whole building could light up. Even as it was, the light from the room remained and leaked out. I was impressed to see that it had stayed on.

Now if I flick the switch off, then on again, will it turn back on?

As I turned to work on the elevator, I was stopped in my place when I heard a thump in the distance. It could have been nothing. Those pipes were old, after all. The vents too.

But even if it was nothing, I had to check it out.

Down one flight of stairs, the sound of movement and creaks against the vents could be heard.

Could it be that I’ve got a guest?

That same sound continued in little spurts. Less noise, but still there. Unavoidable. I could tell, there was movement of some kind. Rat, pebble, raccoon, or a person. Further down the hallway, the sound grew closer, more pronounced. Little shimmies and brushes. Metallic clangs.

I stood in place as the sound seemed to be just above my head. I took off my helmet. No need for it.

“I know you’re up there,” I announced.

Silence. No more movement. Nothing.

Seconds went by. Still nothing.

Stillness passed through the air, and so I had no choice but to accept that I may have just been hearing the old building making noises.

I let out a heavy sigh. Defeat. So soon, too.

“Guess I was just hearing things. I’ll head back now.”

Still no sound of movement. How disappointing. I unsheathed my sword and flashed a toothy smile.

“...Just kidding,” I said before I plunged my katana into the vent and sliced the thing in half.

If there had been a person, or just a rat, surely they felt that.

As I did so, the noise of steel against steel, the grating being slashed apart couldn’t mask the undeniable sound of movement heading backward.

I held my katana up and dragged it against the ceiling as I walked toward the sound of someone retreating from within the vents.

Around the corner, I heard a drop, and the hard tap of a shoe against the floor.

So it was a person. And I missed. I really must be losing my touch.

As I approached, someone small and frail looking peeked out from the corner and threw a knife my way. I caught it between my fingertips and just as fast, threw it back. In a panic, the intruder let out a squeak and ducked back behind the corner, then picked up their knife and ran.

“Were you thinking you could kill me with that? Or were you planning on me blocking it, then running toward me with another knife, the thrown knife being a distraction?” My smile grew wider, almost a grin. It didn’t take much to know their strategy; too many times I’ve dealt with similar tactics. Smart, but amateurish.

Does this person really think they stand more of a chance than the person last night? Or are they just expecting to run around like this is some endurance test?

I wasn’t about to let them experience such a luxury. I ran after and watched as they almost got behind the door to an adjacent room, but before they could do so, I grabbed their wrist and held on tight. Once I pulled them forward, closer to me, it turned out the intruder was a young woman with wavy, green hair.

With my other hand, I raised my knife and readied myself to slice down against her arm.

She scowled, then with her free arm reached for my wrist to free herself. Before she could puncture me, I swung my blade down, at the same time let go of her wrist. Just in time, she jumped out of the way. I turned to make a quick slash, but she blocked it with her knife. Such a measly thing. All I had to do was push harder and it began to show little cracks.

She let go and jumped out of the way again.

“Nimble one, aren’t you?” I observed. Then she charged, but I moved out of the way. She tried to slash with her knife from the side, but I blocked it with my blade, then let go and kicked her to the floor.

Short on breath, she picked herself up. So far all of her efforts, while quick-witted, had been feeble at best.

“Let me ask you this: why do you want to kill me? Is there money involved?”

“I...I don’t want to kill you. That’s...that’s not why I came here,” she spoke, her voice rough, but high in pitch and she fixed her gaze on me as she tried to recover her breath.

“Then why?”

“I want to know who you are,” she answered.

That was such a ridiculous answer. But at least it was some kind of answer.

“I’m a serial killer,” I replied through my teeth. “I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. Sliced open, stabbed through the chest. Cut to ribbons. Does that answer your question?”

Her face turned to shock and she took a step back, but shook her head.

“No, I already knew that much from the request.”

“That again. The request to kill me, correct?”

She gave a nod.

“But I would rather not have to try. Not if you’re anything like who Sunny thought you were.”

“Sunny?”

“The one who tried to kill you last night and got herself beat real good. She thought you were –” I stopped her.

“Rhea?” I asked.

Another nod.

“What was so special about that name? There’s probably plenty of people in this city with that name.”

“Yes. And I looked up every single person with that name in Chicago. There were a lot more names than I thought, and not all of them were happy about receiving a phone call from a stranger.”

…

“Are you a dunce? Did you really?”

“Yes.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of someone actually doing that. I sunk down to the wall and sat.

“Sit,” I commanded. “And if you try anything funny, I will kill you.”

Wordless, she crouched down and sat against the wall across from me.

“So what does that name mean to you?” I questioned.

“Nothing. But it means plenty to a few of the people around me. Rhea Flection, they call her. Apparently she was both feared and admired. Some people want her dead, or revenge on her, others just seem to wish they could see her in action. My cousin and her wife were apparently one of her targets. Someone I admire apparently worked in the same company as her. Says that she died. Yet all these other people keep bringing her up.”

Damn. That name. So it really was the same one that I knew.

“Heh,” I leaned my head back. Absurd as it was, I not only stopped the fight, but also let my guard down. “I wonder if I’ll have my own fan club as well when I die.”

“I take it to mean that you’re not her?” She asked, something which I would have thought was obvious.

“You mean that socially awkward iceberg? No. I’m not her.”

“Iceberg?” She tilted her head, which made me wonder just how much she actually knew.

“You’d have to have been there.”

“So I take it you knew her?”

“Yes. We worked in the same company. But that’s ancient history. For the record, I’m Wendy Day. You?”

“Demetria. What kind of name is that, by the way?”

“I picked it out because I wanted an English sounding name, and it sounds like ‘windy day’. Not very clever, I know. I used to be called Mizue Soyokaze, but I threw that name away long ago, along with the rest of my younger self.”

“Cool. Lore. Can I sit next to you?” She asked, rather sudden, too.

“Go ahead. But I’ll remind you not to get any ideas.”

She got up and as she approached me, she looked away, ashamed or uneasy.

“I probably should have tried to kill you, seeing as I don’t want you to go around killing people, but I was more focused on getting some kind of answers,” she said as she sat down. Then turned away from me. I took it to mean she was shy.

“You don’t want me to go around killing people?” I scoffed. “I don’t want me to go around killing people. I’ve tried to put this life behind me, not get myself into trouble, but then I see others do things that I just can’t abide by.”

“Like what?” She asked, and her voice quivered. If only I had dragged out the battle, maybe she would have shown more bravery.

“Sexual abusers, for starters, but that should be obvious. Then there’s people like landlords and debt collectors who couldn’t care less if they let others die in the name of money. Greedy fucks all around. Still, I can’t catch everyone out there, only the ones that I see. Even then, I try not to let my blood boil, not let it get to me. I try to sit by, abide by the law, but then I witness a child running around with a toy gun with his best friend playing some kind of game, like cops and robbers. Then an actual cop comes and shoots the kid dead, a cruel irony. Said cop walks off, no remorse or recourse, all the while that kid just wanted to play and now their life ended. That I can’t abide by.”

“Wow,” she mouthed.

“But, in case you start thinking I’m some savior, acting only in the name of justice, let me remind you that I’m a murderer and violence is what I know. If anything, I find excuses to take lives, not unlike some of the people I so despise. It’s not even so much a craving or an addiction, but I don’t think this world will ever grow kind, and neither will I.”

“But why did you ever start?”

“Because,” I began. I had to pause, and I thought to myself, wait. Am I really going to go through my life story with a stranger I assumed wanted to kill me? Fuck it. I’m doing this. “I’m all too familiar with authority abusing their power. Back in my old life, when I was young and still had a family, there was a high ranking member of society who was found dead, a puncture wound through their chest. I was blamed for it, an unassuming girl who stayed home all the time and helped out with her family. But once I was accused, that same family disowned me, regardless of whether or not I had actually committed such a thing.”

“Did you?”

“No. But that didn’t matter, I was just a commoner, so my word didn’t mean much, and there was less proof that I didn’t than proof that I did, even if either way was inconclusive. Regardless, I was set to be executed; beheaded, actually. Two men with swords beside me, one in front. All against my throat. However, I managed to fight back and steal the two men’s swords, then cut them all down. After that, I hid out in an abandoned shack. Later on, I found out who the real killer had been and killed him myself. After, I fled. That didn’t stop me from being pursued, but I cut anyone down who dared to try.”

“That’s kinda badass,” she commented. I had to stop her right there.

“No, just bad. My life should have ended that day, as the person I am now was the person I was once accused of being. But no matter how many close calls I’ve had, I’m still here, like some kind of cockroach.”

“And your company?” She asked, and I knew where her real focus was.

“They picked me up a few years back, though in my mind it was centuries ago. They told me that they could offer me protection, be paid to take out those who would abuse their authority. By then, I knew it was only a matter of time, with whole armadas after me. So I accepted.”

“I see.”

“Do you know what we did in that company?” I pondered.

“I get the gist of it. It’s unpleasant, but I can’t just fault everyone when I don’t know them.”

“Huh. Interesting answer.”

I stared down at my blade, then sheathed it. It had been a while, but not unheard of, since I just...sat next to a would-be victim and heard them out. I kind of missed it, as often when it did happen, I would end up sparing said person and coming to a better understanding of them.

“Say, back when you worked there, did you know of someone named Remora?” She asked again.

Remora...Remora...does that ring any bells? No, I don’t think it does.

“No, sorry,” I replied.

“Uh...shivers a lot, always cold, doesn’t understand people well. Looks kind of like you, except not really. I mean, your guys’ faces and hair is totally different.”

“Oh, you mean Rhea,” I corrected, as there was no other person I could think of who was like that.

“No, no. Her name’s Remora. She says she knew of Rhea, but was never in the same place as her.”

Hmm...that was a curious thing, all right.

“Sorry, but I don’t think there was anyone named Remora, but you definitely described Rhea. One time, we were all at the bar, and she ordered a screwdriver. So I watched as she sat alone at a table and she pulled out an actual screwdriver. I watched her lick the screw driver, make a disgusted face, then looked around to make sure no one saw her. But I saw everything.”

“Is there a difference in taste?” Demetria asked, and I really had to wonder how someone so dense could exist.

“That’s not the point. The point is that she may have been this serious person who wanted to be left alone, but she was also just a total oddball. Even her attempts to be serious could be odd sometimes. Like one time, she tried to do this verbal takedown on a guy named Douglas Fir by listing out all his negative traits in alphabetical order.”

“I don’t think I could do that, but then again sometimes I wonder if I’m dyslexic,” she replied. Again, not the point.

“Whatever the case may be, I didn’t really think of her that much at the time, other than a few notable occurrences, but looking back, I kinda miss her. Then again, I miss most everyone in that company. Save the really shitty ones, but that’s neither here nor there. I know we were all eccentric amoral people, but it was like a community to me, and it felt like the closest thing I had to a home at the time.”

Really, I could reminisce for days.

“There was this other woman, Aurora B, and I suppose her, Rhea, and I could’ve been a ‘dream team’ except if put in a group, one of us would have killed the other two rather fast, thus negating the need for a group. Aurora because she wouldn’t be able to get us all to cooperate, Rhea because she prefers to work alone and would probably use her teammates as bait, and I’d probably notice something about the both of them that wouldn’t sit right with me and decide they’re both scum. Still, the idea is fun.”

“Wait, Aurora B? There’s an Aurora B in the arctic! She’s got a train and a band of thieves! I stabbed her and she robbed the restaurant I worked at!”

I blinked, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! There’s a version of her in this timeline and I bet she’s still just as rowdy! Oh, that must be fun!”

“What? Version of? This timeline?” She seemed confused.

“Yeah, like, you know, time travel and all that. Multiple universes, multiple versions of the same person.” I was surprised she knew about the company and yet didn’t know about that.

“I never considered that…” she muttered, then got up. “I think I’ll take off now. Thank you for that.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, I’ll just say that you were too strong for me and leave it at that.”

“Well if that’s all you needed, you should’ve just come by in the daytime. We could’ve had a nice chat over pizza.”

She waved goodbye, as if I wasn’t some dangerous force of nature, and I continued to sit and shake my head.

“I must be getting soft. First I injured someone rather than killed them, then I let the second person just walk away unscathed, and we had a nice little chat. I’m betting the third person who comes by I’ll end up buying them a drink.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the insanity of it all. My howls and laughter echoed through the almost empty building.

Once I calmed myself down, I stared up at the ceiling. How I wished I could fix up the place. Now I had to fix up the vents as well. There was always one more problem.

“What about you?” I addressed my last guest of the evening. “Have you come to kill me or just to chat?”

In one of the nearby rooms, a door opened up. Soon a figure approached me, a long rifle in hand.

“I’ll be quick. I just wanted to confirm that you were who I thought you were,” replied a low, icy voice.

“What, did you stalk her? Were you listening in on the whole thing?” Whoever said guest was, I would have at least liked a knock or something.

“No to the first one. Yes to the second.”

Direct. I liked that, at least.

“So what about the gun? I take it you’re the only person so far who even stands a chance against me.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Mm,” I mulled it over. “I see. So I take it you know who I am already, but that’s what bothers me. I don’t seem to know who you are.”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you ever saw me. I was never around at the same time she was. I couldn’t have been. For the most part, I was kept isolated from most everybody else. Not that I minded.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. So, why Remora?” I wondered. “You’ve got over a thousand different names, don’t you? Couldn’t you have started a new life with one of those?”

“It’s because...I met someone important to me the day I chose that name.”

I shrugged. “Who am I to judge? One time an old man decided to call me Trout. True story.”

It didn’t take much for me to figure out what was going on. Who I was talking to.

“So you’re an alternate version, huh?” I asked. Rhetorical, I know.

“Yes. I am younger than she was, but I went through similar things and took on missions all the same.”

“They used you like a back up, I take it. In case the main one died. Which is what happened. Doesn’t that disgust you?”

“It is what it is.”

Right. Such emotionless responses.

“In a way, though, it’s relieving. Knowing that there’s a version of her that’s still around and can experience freedom, like me.”

“I’m just a version of myself. I’m me. Not her.”

“But you do share several names and a background, yes?”

“She was irresponsible. She knew what her job was and she got tired of it, so she died. That’s all. She didn’t even have to, she just wanted to. Yet people won’t shut up about her when she was never worth the attention to begin with,” she growled, working up a rant. It seemed I actually struck something of a nerve.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about. Don’t talk about my friend that way,” I shot back.

“You two weren’t friends,” she scoffed. I wondered if that was the most mad she had been in a while.

“I just decided that we were. Seeing as she’s not alive to object, I think I can make that decision,” I gave a sly grin.

“That’s not how that works. Did you two even talk?”

I lifted up my index finger and closed my eyes.

“Once. Just once.”

“About what?”

“Some guy was bothering her and she was uncomfortable, that much I could tell. She also looked ready to break a bottle over his head, and I wasn’t really interested in a fight breaking out. I think I said something like, ‘is he bothering you, queen?’ Then pushed him aside. She looked confused, asked ‘queen?’ And I think I laughed and said not to worry about it. I remember she thanked me, and chattered her teeth while trying to sound out the words to do so. I told her not to mention it and offered to help her with anything if she ever came to me.”

“And?”

“Needless to say, she never came to me. I think when I told her that, she said something like, ‘thanks, I’ll think about it’ while turning her head from side to side, so she probably wasn’t ever going to consider it. But makes me wonder about what could’ve been. Like maybe it would’ve changed something.”

“It wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done. That’s just how she was,” she replied, all brisk and choppy.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still –”

“Shut up about her,” she snapped, although her voice didn’t even manage to raise all that much. I could just tell with her gestures. The shake of her fist. Everywhere shook, in fact, like it was more than just a shiver.

“It bothers you that much, huh? Is it the name, or just being reminded?” I really wasn’t trying to push any buttons. I didn’t even realize there were any buttons to push. But I guess that’s what I needed to expect, with there being differences and all.

“No. I’m not bothered. It’s just a name. Just someone who’s not around anymore. That’s just why I think people should shut up about it. That person’s gone. Gone. Poof.”

Real convincing.

“Is it because it feels like you’re constantly being compared to with another version of yourself? Or how people might see her as a superior version of you?”

I waited for a response. When I got none, I figured I hit the nail on the head.

“I’m me. Just me. I’m the only version of me there is,” she concluded. Less robotic, but still choppy. Almost downtrodden in her tone.

That’s fine as long as you believe that.

“What about that friend of yours? Demetria?”

“We’re not friends.”

“But she’s important to you, isn’t she?”

“In a way.”

“So you care about her, then?”

“No.”

“Were you worried I was going to kill her if she found me, so you followed behind?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Oh bother. It was fun at first, but now it’s like I was talking to a child.

“That whole aloof thing you got going isn’t a very good look for you,” I lectured.

“I’m not aloof.”

“Sure Jan,” I looked over and replied. “Look, I used to be like you, so I get it. I wanted to do everything on my own and I didn’t have much to share with others. But I’ve been blessed to have met a few good people here and there. I’ve survived due in part to the kindness of others.”

“Well…” She thought it over. “I don’t want to be aloof.”

“Bark like a dog, then,” I commanded.

To my surprise, she did just that: her best impression of a dog barking, anyway. I expected more of a Shiba Inu, but instead it came out as a yip, like a Chihuahua.

I cracked up; burst into laughter. Sides split and everything.

“Now you’re a woof,” I told her.

She growled, and I was inclined to say like a dog, as well.

“I hate you, you know that?” She whined.

“Aw, but I thought you loved puns,” I teased.

Changing the subject, she went back to a topic I thought would make her uncomfortable.

“By the way, do you even know what her last job was?”

Probably referring to the R-word.

“No. I was already here doing my own thing when it happened, so I never got to find out,” I explained.

“Well, if you ever want to know, I can give you Ves’ number.”

OK. Someone I don’t know about. Not useful at all.

“Why? Is she single?”

“Stop that. She’s got a cute wife.”

“Oh? Cute?” I should’ve told her I wasn’t really interested in either, as I knew she was the type to take everything seriously. “Like Demetria?”

“She’s cute too, yes.”

“So you admitted it,” I observed.

“Objectively speaking, anyway. Besides, that’s not the point – Ves was the one who killed her. She could fill you in better than I could.”

I see. She should’ve explained that sooner. I looked over and blinked.

“I don’t have a phone.”

She stared as well, then said, “oh.”

“Well, look: I’m working at this diner in the arctic for these people named Sunny and Ray. They thought I would be fun to work with, and not, well...me,” it seemed like Remora was just trying to proposition me with something, anything. I didn’t understand why. “So if you want to sometime, you could go up there. You’re probably more what they were looking for to begin with.”

I shook my head.

“No thanks. The cold’s your thing. I’m not really tied down to a motif. Besides, I’m a homeless old bat. How do you expect me to get up there?”

“I don’t know. You’re resourceful.”

True. I couldn’t deny that bit. Before I could answer, I started to cough. Like a tickle or a scratch at the back of my throat.

I leaned over and covered my mouth with my fist. Remora looked down.

“Are you sick?”

“Why do you care?” I smiled, even as I continued to cough.

“I don’t, but if you are, I don’t want to catch anything.”

As soon as she said that, the cough went away.

“Don’t worry. It’s not something you can catch.”

“What is it, then?”

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with meso – no, it’s not that. I don’t think so, anyway.

“Sometimes a cough is just a cough. I’m getting old, anyway. I might die any day now.”

“Somehow I doubt it. You’re like a cockroach.”

“Yeah, but even cockroaches aren’t immortal,” I reminded her.

There was a moment of silence. That moment grew. Nothing more was said. Nothing more that I could recall. I soon drifted off to sleep, the silence having consumed me. In spite of the intrusions, I think I got the deepest sleep I had in a while.

[alchemicalterror]

Self-implemented Parole

[ Below is a transcript of an RP between @askanarky​ and ol’ Jonny boy, involving Anarky’s breakout and aftermath. WIth special guest @riddlesandqueries​ and @echoandquery​

Trigger warnings: Adolescent Homelessness, swearing. ]

Fuck. Shit. God dammit. Fuck, Lonnie swears to himself, couldn’t stay hidden for two days, could he?

Here he is, leaning against the wall of the dentist’s-office-turned-failed-comedy-club-turned-pirate-radio-station-slash-hideout he’d been spending the day at. Beside him’s a wooden baseball bat, blood-red paint dripping down the business end, three posters, and an overfilled olive drab backpack absolutely covered in patches and safety pins. In his hands, a box of old clothes and records.

Bitterly, Lonnie wonders how much weight he’d lost. Six and a half months was a lot longer- or maybe shorter?- than he’d fully realized.

God, why’s he even humoring the old man? Ten bucks and he could already be gone. He’d find another shitty landlord to blackmail for an equally shitty studio apartment, and life’d go on like he never left.

...But then again, that wasn’t him. And plus, he owes Jon a lot and did kinda call him ‘dad,' and plus, he couldn’t feasibly cut him out entirely unless he left Gotham for good, and why would he do that, he’s got work to continue-

”Fuck.” Lonnie mutters under his breath, shifting his weight to his other leg.

"Fuck." Jon mutters, pulling his coat in tighter. He doesn't know jack shit about hijacked radio towers, and while his car is an unremarkable, beat-up old junker that he's had for years - it runs fine, there's no noises or weird smells, but the body has seen better days - why run into a headache with traffic, gas mileage, potentially being seen at an intersection with a recently escaped convict...?

'Course, nothing could hide how tall he is. And god damn it, it's April, it's supposed to be warm....

Jonathan mutters against the cold in vague irritation, gravitating towards the next set of charity drop-off boxes in vain hopes of actually tracking down the runt. Jesus, he should've asked for directions. At least he's in good shape.

"Me an' my motherfuckin' ide--" Pause. Squint, at someone who fits the stature in a beat up black hoodie, with a box.

"....Kid?"

The good thing about oversized hoodies is that, if you’re drowning in them enough, it can almost conceal how high you jump when something calls an epithet that can apply to you. Immediately, Lonnie crouches to quickly, but gently place his box down and grab his baseball bat in his place, then raises himself up into half of a batter’s stance at the source of the-

Wait. Tall man, absolutely orange hair, in a thrift-store jacket and blue jeans. Of fucking course.

”Jesus Christ,” he half-mouths. He lets his stance relax and his arms hang limply down in an exaggerated 'I-don’t-wanna-be-here' stance. “‘Ay.” Lonnie’s stage voice is remarkable, if a bit higher than his normal growl.

Jonathan grins, a bit, despite himself. Baseball bat? Good lad.

He lifts a hand in a wave, chuckling. "Nice to see you ain't without means, boy." Jon murmurs, nodding at the weapon. "Half kickin' myself I didn't get directions when abouts I could, I been walking around back alleys all afternoon."

"Legs could use a break, and I saw a beaten-down dive up the block some, folks don't glance at your face even when you're ordering in places like that. You wanna coffee or somethin' before we ship out?"

“....” Lonnie turns away for half a second, letting a puff of air escape his clenched teeth. “Hey, you said you didn’t need them.”

Hypocritical, coming from him. He’s at least trying to be a little friendly, through the obvious voice crack and the constantly-correcting tone. “...Fine, I guess? I mean, I’ve got what...” He backs away and unzips the front pocket of the backpack on the ground. A cheap leather wallet spills out (along with six separate embroidered circle-As in various shades of crimson.) He unfolds it and squints between the pockets, “....twelve...? Dollars on me? That’s enough for, like, a sandwich.”

"Come off it kid, I got paid yesterday, you ain't gotta spend what little you got on a sandwich. Save it, s'good to have bus money." And with that Jon turns, and waves Lonnie follow him. Tall as he is, he's long ago adopted a sort of ambling gait to make it easier for other people to keep up with his long stride.

The diner is, as estimated, utterly apathetic to the arrival of both Jonathan and Lonnie, save for the motions of seating them both. No odd looks are given to Lonnie's box of things, nor -- if he brought it along -- his bat. He was half-heartedly offered the opportunity to drop it in the umbrella rack, if he wanted to.

Jon takes a booth with a high back, and turns his attention toward the menu.

Lonnie, in fact, does put his baseball bat in the umbrella rack (only in Gotham,) and swings himself up onto the booth, squishing himself into the corner and placing his box under the table. His backpack’s placed right beside him.

He’s already small- especially compared to Jonathan- but he seems determined to make himself even smaller. Lonnie hunches over the table and scrutinizes the menu with one exposed eye, rapping his free hand on the table. Jonathan receives the occasional upwards glance from him.

Coffee. And a sandwich. Jon picks both, mentally placing his order, and sets the menu down.

"...After we order, I got some things to ask, arright?" He murmurs, keeping his voice low; the staff might not care, but patrons could. Best keep mumbly.

"Dinner's on me whatever you got to say, upfront. Ain't contingent on you givin' me answers you think I'm gonna wanna hear."

(The waitress does drift by, uninterested and unimpressed, to take their orders.)

Watching the waitress approach means Lonnie didn’t have the space to answer Jon in full; Instead, he flashes a thumbs up his way.

BLT, cherry Coke. Lonnie deserved something sweet, he thought. His menu comes down after Jon’s, and he doesn’t fully turn to place his order. He does, however, have the common sense for manners; “I’d like an egg BLT and a cherry Coke, please.”

"And I'd like a tuna sub and a black coffee, please, miss. Thank you kindly."

Their orders are noted down, and she drifts on to her next engagement - and Jon leans on the table, looking Lonnie over. Where to start. "....You got a place to stay?"

“I’ll get one.” Lonnie murmurs, implying that the answer’s actually no. “Old landlord probably won’t let me back in, not like I was actually paying for my old apartment anyway...” He murmurs as he passes the saltshaker between his hands. "...Right." Jonathan says, nodding slowly. "...If you need a place to crash a li'l while while you work him over, y'know - I got a guest room. Ain't got much more than a bed and a couple boxes and a desk, but it's dry an' the door locks." "...And like, if puttin' out on your own for a place don't work, I don't mind if you stay, right?" .... Hm. The saltshaker rests in his left hand.

“...You’re serious? C’mon, your job’s probably already batter-fried as is, if anyone finds out-”

Lonnie doesn’t trail off, per se, more than he just lets his throat close a little. “...Really? You really don’t-“

He’d be an absolute idiot to decline, but there had to be some kind of catch - ? - but Jon’s not that much of a jerkass.... "Kid, much as I'm sure you could find someone whose arm you could twist for a place, it don't sit right with me to just leave you in an alley to do that. I got the room, and - well, Arkham can just deal." Jonathan’s tone is flat.

"What they don't know ain't gonna hurt my career." Lonnie puts a fist to his rapidly-splitting mouth and exhales sharply. “‘Guess that is true,” he answers, then shakes two fingers at Jon. 

“...Shit, thanks, I guess? I didn’t... really expect you to show real concern, holy shit...” "What, you think it was just for appearances?"  Jon chuckles, genial. "Naw, son, I try to actually care 'bout the folks I work with, didn't get into this business on accounta I don't care about people."

"Look, after Dinner I'll help you carry shit, since I left the car at home." “Okay.” Lonnie doesn’t particularly feel like pushing it any more, so he doesn’t. 

“...How’d I not notice this place before?” He asks, mostly to himself. Or maybe he had, and he’d forgotten about it. Was it even worth forgetting?  Ech, everything was so overwhelming. As their food and coffee comes around, Jonathan turns his attention to the rogue chat, securing something, before starting to eat. Tuna melts are truly the mac and cheese of the sandwich world, and hard to get wrong.

[ Dr_J_C ] - Hey, Eddie, you on. [ E?Nygma ] - Yes? [ Dr_J_C ]  - You got a cab company you trust to keep their yaps shut [ E?Nygma ] - My henchwomen. [ Dr_J_C ]  - ...Think they'd be willing to come pick up me and a runaway? Wound up cross town and the kid's got luggage [ E?Nygma ] - Only one way to find out, really.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Ladies? ] [ DM  E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] You need something, Ed? ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Yes, if you have the time tonight. Dr Crane is asking me about securing private transit that doesn't talk too much, if you catch my drift. Since you're both the pair I trust most on the matter, I thought I'd ask if you'd be willing to go fetch him and cart him wherever he needs to go. He's not in a stabbing mood, so it shouldn't be risky. ] [ DM  E&Q to E?Nygma: [Q] Not in a stabbing mood? Color me surprised.. but sure thing, Boss! [E] Dr. Crane requires transit? We aren’t busy, so we’ll be glad to pick him up, when needed. Anything that’s said will stay in the car, don’t you worry. ] [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: Peachy. Make him buy you dinner, huh? I'll forward the address: you know what to do if he starts giving you trouble, and where to send the bill. Thanks so much. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Good news, Jonny, they'll do it. Have an address? [ Dr_J_C ]  - Yeah, hangon.... Down town, Eighth and Tuppence. The shitty diner.

[ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: : Eighth and Tuppence, the "shitty diner", as he put it. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - I told them to make you buy them dinner. 

[ Dr_J_C ]  -  Yeah, sure, doesn't have to be from here. We just got our food, so - give it an hour? [ DM: E?Nygma to E&Q: He's asked for you to come in an hour, so you have time to get ready. ]

[ E?Nygma ] - Done and done, don't leave them waiting.

Before eating, Lonnie removes the top slice of bread from each sandwich half and salts the (perfectly over-medium) egg on top, then slides the salt to the other side of the table. He almost chokes on his first bite. God, he missed real food. "...Arkham food, huh." Jonathan chuckles, humorlessly. "Shit, every time I've gotten outta there, pizza boxes have looked appetizing."

"Eddie's henches are gonna be givin' us a ride. They ain't snitches, and I fancy our chances in one'a their cars than on foot."

“...Tall punk one n’ a short one?” Lonnie clarifies through a mouthful of BLT. Gulp. “Nice.”

“...Spent his ketchup money on Walgreens eyeliner and a burger. Should probably get online and tell ‘im once I get home, huh.” He pauses, putting down his sandwich for a second. “I told you the ketchup thing, right?”

Jonathan grins, lifting his coffee in a weird sort of salute. "Sure did. Bet you made with Eddie, right? Eyeliner and a bite's a good cause, then. He chomps down half his sandwich before turning his attention properly to coffee.

"...Good-ish news, the Asylum is pretty sure I didn't help you break out." "So they prob'ly ain't gonna assume I came got you, neither."

“Thank god,” Lonnie comments. “Like, not just ‘cuz your job’s still safe, that’s great, but god, I didn’t spend three weeks figuring out like, 80 million people’s schedules for a friend in a high place to get the stick, it’s my damn credit.” He pauses for a sip of soda. “...Is that the right metaphor? Doesn’t matter. ‘S.... nice y’aint in that deep shit.”

Another pause. “Jesus Christ, I just said ‘y’ain’t’ in complete earnest, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Lonnie laughs, leaning his head back and pulling down one eyelid. Jonathan barks a cheerful laugh, and even that is ignored by the utter apathy that is a back-street diner in Gotham. He shakes his head until it trickles down to a snicker and, grinning, drains the rest of his coffee before his attention returns to the perfectly adequate tuna melt.

"Naww, they had me doin' damage control, after talkin' to me a bit and nosing some at my notes. Shit, I didn't know a damn thing about your plans, and it showed, son, so oughta be fine."

"New's being shitty about it anyways, though, m'sorry about that." “I~’m aware,” Lonnie chimes rather sardonically, waiting to swallow this time. “Eh, GCN’s a bunch of corporatist bullcrap anyway. They don’t think I’m a real dude, I know they aren’t a real news station, cancels out.” It really doesn’t cancel out, but the shrug indicates either he’s actually fine or he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it.

Jonathan slowly nods, and makes a mental tick to get a tee-shirt made inviting people to physically fight him if they want to call Lonnie a girl. That's a dadly thing to do, right?

"...So,” Jon starts, slowly, “Y'all called me dad."

Groan. “Uh, I’m sorry?” Lonnie shrugs to accompany the nonapology— not like it was worth applogizing for. “Slip of the tongue, like callin’ a teacher ‘mom,’ y’know?”

He sucks the rest of his Coke down and sets the tall plastic glass back on the table. Jon laughs, sitting back himself and uncrossing his arms. "Dunno where all I said I was upset about it, son." His grin is lazy and easy, and he just shrugs.

"Y'all see me as a father figure?" ... Does he? ... “I mean— you’re what, two and a half times my age n I’ve seen more of you  in the, what, three-ish months since you took my case than anyone else, not to mention you’re like...” Lonnie cycles through various expressions as he speaks, apparently directing his explanation at his fingernails. (Note the lack of a solid answer.)��

He doesn’t mention what Jon’s like. Soon, he throws his forehead into one hand, rubbing his temples.

“I mean—- no, but also not no?” "...So, solid maybe." Jon suggests, wiping crumbs off his hands with a chuckle. "Right, well that ain't somethin' you gotta come up with an answer to today, son. Right now, priority's makin' sure you don't get picked up by the cops two days after a breakout."

"And,” he adds, “Not leavin' you to find a half-comfortable Alley to try an' make a sleeping spot from."

“Mmh,” Lonnie affirms through his last bite of BLT (emphasis on the L.) “In my defense, I spent like... the first third’a my sophomore year doin’ that, I’ve got practice.” He jokes, sending finger-guns Jon’s way. “But yeah, let’s leave that for later, ‘kay?”

"Sounds good." Jonathan pulls out his wallet, leafing through it and leaving the bill in cash, with a generous tip. No, the bill hasn't actually arrived yet, but he's pretty good at math. Something about being a Chemist, maybe. 

"Ed's girls oughta be here in a nother couple minutes, so - you wanna hit the washroom or anything 'fore we head outside?"

[eternal-ahsoka]

Star Wars x Newsies

Chapter One: Santa Fe (Prologue)

Anakin always awoke long before either of Tatooine’s suns had risen, but this morning felt special. From his rooftop pile of pillows - the closest thing he or Owen had to a home - he could see dawn on the horizon, the thin line of yellow and orange slowly changing the sands from their nighttime hue of brown to a morning gold. He rarely thought his desert planet a beauty, but at this moment, it seemed to be giving him a rare gift. It was all his, too, for Mos Espa was still asleep, and so was Owen.

“Wake up, Owen!” He shook his half-brother by the shoulder, perhaps with a little more force than he should’ve. He was just ... strangely excited.

Owen grumbled. “Five more minutes,” he pleaded.

“We gotta get movin’ if we’s gonna sell enough papes to pay for dinner,” Anakin began to button up his blue linen shirt - the one he was convinced matched his eyes and helped him charm female customers.

“Just once,” Owen mused, “I’d like to hear somethin’ nice from the person tryin’ to wake me up. Somethin’ like ‘Hey, Owen, you’s won the lottery! You’s gonna be rich!’ or just ‘Today we’ll take the day off, old pal.’”

Anakin smiled, but his insides churned as he watched Owen lift himself up onto his crutch. His leg had been injured five years before in a traffic accident; some crazy speeder driver had been going too fast down a Mos Espa road. Ever since, he’d tried to make life easier for Owen, but it seemed an impossible feat. Life in the outer rim was hard enough, but as a poor, fatherless, hungry newsie - you could forget it.

“Hey, hey - you wanna hear somethin’ nice? I’ll tell ya somethin’ nice!” He thought for a moment. “Is a story okay?”

Owen nodded, fervently.

“Okay. Far, far away from Tatooine - far beyond the Outer Rim, for that matter - lies a planet named Santa Fe.”

“Santa Fe?” Owen snorted. “What a stupid name.”

“Oh, like Tatooine’s the best name ya ever heard,” Anakin scoffed. “Let me finish. In Santa Fe, there ain’t a single grain of sand - not one. It’s clean, and green, and pretty, and they went and made a city out of clay.”

“Sounds like Mos Espa, just green.”

“That’s the important part, Owen. And the minute that ya get there, folks’ll walk right up and say: ‘Welcome home, son, welcome home to Santa Fe!’” He threw up his arms and shouted into the morning breeze. “Plantin’ crops! Splittin’ rails! Swappin’ tales around the fire, ‘cept for Sunday when ya lie around all day! Soon your friends are more like family, and they’s beggin’ you to stay! Ain’t that neat? Livin’ sweet. In Santa Fe.”

“Where’d ya hear about this planet anyway?” Owen wondered. “How d’ya know it’s not a myth?”

“Cause I know it ain’t. It has to be real.”

“Kinda like your angels of Iego thing, huh?”

“No, this is real, Owen. I- I know it is.” He paused, looking down on the rooftops and streets of Mos Espa. “I can’t live here forever. I’ve got to get out. One day.”

“But everyone on Tatooine wants to come to Mos Espa!”

Anakin laughed. “Everyone on Tatooine, maybe. But there’s an entire galaxy out there that neither of us has ever seen! Planets made of ice, and water, and trees...”

“How do you know about trees?”

“That paper’s gotta come from somewhere, Owen!”

They both laughed.

Anakin began to climb down the ladder, into the city. The day had almost begun, and his excitement only grew. Owen could see it in Anakin, vibrantly buzzing in his big, blue eyes.

“You keep your small life in a big city,” he said. “Give me a big life ... in a small town.”

[queenie-writes-shit]

Then He Kissed Me (Reggie Kray/Reader)

word count: 1.9k rating: T inspiration: then he kissed me by the crystals

“Mr. Kray,” you mused from behind the bar counter as Reggie Kray walked into the bar. You were all dolled up with your nails freshly painted an almost tacky orange. It matched the tights you had decided to wear with your skirt, but nobody could see them anyhow.

“Ms. (Y/N),” he greeted. “All right?” Reginald asked as he took a seat at his usual corner on the bar. You reached behind you and got a glass down, eyeing him out of the corner of your vision.

“Quite well, today. It's been slow. Only two guys got pissed until they couldn't tell their thumb from their arse.” Your laugh always caught Reggie’s attention; it was infectious. “What'll you be ‘avin today, Mr. Kray? Scotch neat or on the rocks?” With the weather outside, you were sure that he would be having the amber drink on ice, but he surprised you by replying with a “Neat will be just right, darl’.” Your head slowly nodded as you set the glass down, grabbing his favorite scotch and pouring it into the glass and setting it down in front of him.

“No Ron with you today, hm?” Reggie shook his head, tilting his head back and getting a good amount of the alcohol down.

“No. He's off doing his work. I swear, if we hadn't come from the same mother, I'd give him a proper fight myself.” He harrumphed and looked up at you, leaned over with your hands on the counter, watching him with a raised eyebrow. When he set his glass back down, you filled it up without him even needing to ask. You knew his patterns all too well.

“It's a little early for you to be drinkin’ like you normally do, innit?” The glare he shot at you with his blue eyes had you silenced, your hazel eyes narrowed as you suppressed your thoughts. If he was drinking and in a bad mood, it was best you didn't test him. Even though he claimed that he liked the way you didn't respond like every other woman to him, there were days where he just needed silence. “Right, well, I'm going to switch on the juke and do some writing while I wait for you to finish your drink.” A soft “Mh,” was all that Reggie responded with.

You walked to the other side of the bar and started the tracks up, feeling in the mood for a little bit of The Rolling Stones. Reggie didn't seem to mind, grabbing one of the newspapers as you sat down, getting out a journal and continuing on with your story. Your hand moved slightly as you scribbled down a part of the story about being on a plane crashing with your main characters on it. You allowed yourself to feel the panic the characters felt. It helped you write better, write real reactions. After a few minutes had passed, you looked up. The next song was starting, and yet your sole patron didn't ask for more. Of course, he wasn't even a patron… He was your boss, for all intents and purposes. The purple hue of the sunset spilled into the bar, and you looked down at the glass. Empty.

“You coulda spoken up instead of just staring at me with dead mince pies,” you grumbled as you got up and poured more into his glass. He nodded and you sat back down. You still felt his gaze on your face. You let a few more seconds pass before you looked up again, watching the intense look on Reggie’s face. Under his scrutinizing stare you began to flush, your neck growing hot. It was no lie that Reginald was sought after by a lot of women for good reason; he was one of the best looking men in the East End, even if he was rumored to be dangerous. He shifted and sat back in his chair, reaching into his coat to get a cigarette and lighter out. He lit the stick before you could really even catch it.

You took your journal back out as the song switched to something by Marvin Gaye, but you could never remember the title. As soon as the journal was on the counter, Reggie took out the tobacco from between his lips and cleared his throat. “(Y/N), love, why don't you rattle and’ hum over ‘ere for a second?” You stood from the stool obediently and walked over to Reggie, placing your hands on your hips.

“Yes, Mr. Kray?” You spoke, wondering what he wanted. “You look like you've been trying to figure out somethin’.” It was more of a statement than it was a question or request. You turned your head a bit.

“I… was jus’ wondering why you were staring at me,” you replied truthfully. He laughed at that.

“The expressions you made while writing had me interested in what you were doing. You looked scared, and yet for half of a sec you would be fine. And then back to being terrified. You'd think I was ‘oldin’ a gun to yer head like that.” Your cheeks instantly grew red, and you let out a quieter laugh.

“Oh. That.” Reggie nodded. “It's easier to write if I can slip into the shoes of whoever I'm writing. Y'know?” You smoothed back your hair, the ends still holding the hairspray you had put in it that morning.

“It was just peculiar,” Reggie told you. He paused to take a drag of his cigarette, holding in between his large index finger and thumb. “D'ya want a puff?” As he spoke, smoke spilled from his mouth. You shrugged and reached your hand out to take it from his fingers, ignoring the spark of their skin touching. As you wrapped your lips around the foot, Reggie’s eyes were immediately on your pursed lips, enjoying the look. As soon as your lips were on the stick, you took it back out and exhaled the smoke from your still pursed lips, the cigarette being set on the ashtray. The music was the only thing filling the air for a second before you meekly thanked him.

“Come ‘round here and come sit with me.” The command had you confused. You always stayed behind the counter. Then again, most of the time, other people needed your attention as well. You complied and walked around the bar until you were on the main floor, about to sit down when he spread his legs and patted one thigh. “Don't be afraid, love. I won't bite.” Ever so hesitantly did you comply, awkwardly perching on his right leg. You tried to keep your weight off of him, pulling your skirt down with one hand. Reggie had other plans. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, enjoying the look of surprise written across your features.

“There we are, princess.” You snorted softly. You had heard Reggie use the term to just about everyone but you. You supposed that it would have come anyway. “Comfortable?”

“If your definition of it is hangin’ onto a man for unknown reasons, then yes. Quite.” A grin cracked Reggie’s face, his large lips spreading in an adorable smile.

“Don't be like that. It's just more convenient. You get to sit an’ still talk to me.” You slowly moved your hand to grasp at his jacket for more stability, the music changing in the background. “Well, what is it that you'd like to talk about, Mr. Kray?” You teased softly.

“How about your book, Ms. (Y/N)?” He replied with the playful tone, humoring the pretty thing on his lap. You were different. You actually thought about things.

“A couple whose life has changed due to a bad aeroplane crash. I've just begun writin' it. After my last book… Well, didn't make me much money. No bad reviews, it's just that, y'know, all the telleys are distracting people from the book industry.” The whole time that you talked in such an animated fashion, Reggie couldn't help but chuckle. The way your eyes moved attracted him. You stopped suddenly when you realized he was giving you the look again. You weren't pulling any faces. “Is there something on my face, Reginald?”

“Yeh,” Reggie uttered lowly, raising a hand to your jaw. You were sure nothing was, but he placed his warm thumb against your lower lip, swiping the side against the slightly chapped lip. He kept his thumb there, making you grow warm. “Reggie?” You asked in a quieter voice. You could hear The Crystals in the background. Reggie held your head where it was firmly, biting his lip as you stared up at him. The simple action had you breathing a little less, something tight in your belly as he stared down at you.

“You know, darling, I can have my way with anyone I want.”

“So I've heard,” you responded with just a touch of confusion.

“I'd like to ask you instead of forcing it.” You quirked an eyebrow up with a thick swallow. You hoped he wasn't asking for sex, even if he was attractive. “Ask for what, Mr. Kray?” Reggie’s smirk that followed had your chest give out.

“It'd be fine if I kissed you, yeah?” You stammered at the question. You didn't say no. As soon as you started to utter the beginning of a yes, his lips found yours. The song playing around them was too ironic.

And then he kissed me.

His lips moved off and on your lips, nipping lightly as you kissed back just as hard, pressing your body closer to his so you wouldn't fall. His lips were breathtaking to touch. It sent your brain aflame. It made you drunk. You had never enjoyed a quick kiss quite that much before.

He kissed me in a way that I've never been kissed before.

Reggie let out a grunt of enjoyment, and you went to grab his thin white shirt instead, tilting your head as his tongue pushed against your bottom lip. He tasted like alcohol and his cigarette, with just a hint of toothpaste. It wasn't entirely bad. You had had worse kisses. When he groaned softly you had to pull back, not wanting to take it too far.

He kissed me in a way that I want to be kissed forevermore.

You stood up when you could, cheeks flushed with red and lips kiss-bruised with color. He was in a similar state, though slightly more collected and covering up his inner thigh with his arm. “I should…” You looked over to the window, seeing someone walking closer to the building. “Get back to tha job.” You cleared your throat a little more and walked around the counter again, smoothing your skirt. You could still feel his large hand on the small of your back, your skin warm.

The door jingled as one of his men walked in.

“I suppose I should go round u’ my brother.” Reggie gave another glance to you. “Take it easy, beautiful.”

You licked the last of his saliva off of your lower lip. “Have a good one, Mr. Kray.”

[porkchop-ao3]

By The Fire: RDR2

So here I go again, dipping my toe into a new fandom! Well, not really dipping a toe, more like falling in face first. I’ve been talking on here a bit about how I’ve been playing Red Dead Redemption 2 and you know it was just a matter of time before a fic appeared. Ngl, this blog is likely going to become all about this now... Sorry folks :’)

Anyway, this fic is Arthur Morgan x Female Reader and it’s NSFW, some nice, fluffy smut to warm me up to writing for this fandom coz this probably ain’t gonna be my last fic haha. Rockstar Games literally owns me at this point, between GTAV and RDR2 I’m certain they are designing games to specifically fuck me up. 

I hope you like this fic featuring reader and Arthur spending some alone time in the wilderness in a tent! Whoever reads this, whether it’s someone who already follows me or someone new, enjoy!

-

The crackle of the fire, the heat of it against my skin, the sweet, smokey scent of the wood burning, it all felt like home. I loved being out in the open like this, in the wild, with only the occasional rider passing on the nearby trail to disturb the sounds of the wilderness. My eyes had softened a while ago as I stared into the rippling, sparkling flames, I was in a trance; mind blank. Around me I listened to crickets purring, the rustle of critters in the bushes, the gentle wind through the trees. It was peaceful out here, it was nice to spend some time away from camp, here little could break me out of my trance. Not even when I heard movement behind me, fidgeting, the slide of fabric and the crunch of dry earth as Arthur moved.

We'd set up camp here a little while ago and he'd been napping in our little tent. It was really only big enough for one person, but we managed when we huddled up together; something neither of us minded one bit. We'd been hunting, it'd been a good day for it with the clear sky and low winds. The horses were nearby, heads bowed as they slept too, we'd worked them hard that day. Our hunting trip had gained us two whitetail bucks and a few rabbits; we were yet to take them back to camp, deciding we would rest for awhile as the sun set before heading back. Pearson wouldn't need the meat until the morning anyway.

Something touched my shoulder and I jumped, my heart squeezing and thumping as I turned with a gasp. It was just Arthur.

“I'm sorry, didn't mean to spook ya’,” he chuckled as he scooted closer, sitting down beside me in front of the fire as he put his hat on. “Was getting a little chilly in there.”

“I thought you were asleep,” I smiled softly at him, reaching around him and rubbing at his upper arms to warm him up quicker, he held his hands out near the flames.

“I was, for a little while. Realised you hadn't joined me yet and couldn't get back to sleep. What'chu doing out here?” He asked me, his voice as low, rumbling and quiet as it always was when we were alone together. I let go of him, letting my hands drift gently down his side and across his back as I did.

“I jus’ don't feel too tired,” I told him. “Thought I'd let you have the tent without cramming in next to you.”

“You know I don't exactly mind that,” he chuckled, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking up at me from the campfire. “You wanna head back to camp?”

“Not yet,” I answered quickly, meeting his gaze. “I'm not quite ready to face Miss Grimshaw after this morning.”

“I don't blame you, she can be a little scathing at times, but she means well,” Arthur chuckled, rubbing at his jaw, I could hear the scratch of his stubble.

“I don't always think she means well. Sometimes I think she just likes raising her voice and terrorising us girls. We all do our bit, Arthur, you can see that, right? But the minute someone sits down to read a book, or… or do somethin’ fun, she's there, calling us idle. Ya’ know I saw her strike Mary-Beth the other day?”

“She did, huh?” he frowned a little.

“Since then I've been avoiding her like the plague. I can take a hit but I'd rather it not be from the matriarch of our own community. S'morning she started yelling at me about sleeping in, only shut up when I told her I'd been up all night with Swanson, stopping him from hurling all over the good hides.”

“I'd take no notice. Just keep doing what you're doing, you'll be fine,” He gave my knee a pat then rose to his feet with a grunt. “'scuse me a minute.”

I watched as he headed off towards the treeline to relieve himself. He disappeared from sight for a few moments before coming back, he was still fastening up his pants as he strolled back to the fire. I smirked at him and leaned back on my hands. He caught my eye and smirked back.

“What's that look for?” He asked in amusement. I shook my head.

“Nothin’. Just thinking about how long it's been since I saw those pants come off and stay off,” I teased. He laughed quietly, cheeks darkening just a little. I never would've guessed how easy it was to make Arthur Morgan blush.

“The move to Clemens Point's sure kept us all busy, huh?”

“Sure has. Course, all of John's bullshit last time we had a little fun on camp doesn't help, I thought we were quiet but I guess he's got ears like a… well, I don't know. Somethin’ with exceptionally good hearing,” I laughed, pursing my lips as I looked up at him. John had only just stop teasing Arthur and I about keeping him awake all night, shaking Arthur's bed to pieces. Neither of us had been bold enough to try anything again since.

“I don't know about that,” Arthur shook his head slowly, running his thumb across his bottom lip. With his head tilted down, I couldn't see his eyes; obscured by the brim of his hat.

“About what?”

“'bout us being all that quiet,” he stepped around the fire and sat back down just inside the tent. I cocked a brow at him even though he wasn't looking. “Well, I was. You, though…”

I scoffed. “I was quiet, I know I was ‘cause I was conscious of it the entire time,” I said, a little too defensively.

“Well, not when you was…” he trailed off. I let out a puff of breath and crawled over to him on my knees, grabbing his chin and lifting his head to meet his eyes.

“Not when I was what?” I tilted my head and held onto his shoulder with my other hand, looking down at him. Something warm and inviting slipped into his eyes and he licked his lips.

“You yelled my name like you was searching for me when you were finishing, I liked the sound of it too much to put my hand over your mouth.”

My instinct was to shove his shoulder and give him a bit of a scolding, on account of my prudish upbringing. But living with a bunch of outlaws had done all of that out of me and instead I let the heat in my lower belly lead the way and I lowered my voice so he'd be the only one to hear even if someone was sitting right next to us.

“You wanna hear it again?”

A low sound rumbled in his chest and his eyes dropped down to my waist where his big hands settled, wrapping around me, making me feel small and protected in the best of ways.

“That'd be nice,” his tone, light and airy and cheerful, made me smile and I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. I pinched the brim of his hat between my thumb and forefinger, delicately lifting it from his head and placing it down on the ground. He kept his eyes trained on mine the entire time, lips set in a playful yet subtle smile.

Arthur had let his hair grow out. It came right down to his shoulders, parted and swept over to one side; I'd teased him about it once or twice, telling him he needed a good trip to the barbers. But running my fingers through it and hearing the way it made him hum had me hoping that he'd keep it that way, at least for a while.

Keeping my fingers nestled between the soft, honey-brown strands, I kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and quick to react, moving with mine and parting easily. Arthur kissed deeply, he was a man who let his actions speak for themselves and he poured everything into those kisses of his. Each and every time felt special, even chaste pecks on the cheek before leaving for a job, he'd linger there, pressing firmly and closing his eyes, making me feel as though none of the others were there to see. His kisses were just for me no matter who was watching.

I pulled back to breathe, breath stolen and difficult to get back when I caught the look in his eyes. So blue and rich, catching a bright orange reflection from the fire behind me, it made me wish I was a painter so I could capture it on canvas. Arthur was beautiful. And he was looking at me like I was too.

“I'm serious, Arthur. I will let you have me, right here, if you want me.”

“Oh, I want you,” he nodded, saying it like it was obvious. He pulled me closer, pressing me down into his lap until I felt his growing hardness between my legs. I shuddered, tilting my head back and looking up at the sky, it was getting real dark, the stars appearing bright above us. I was sure the rest of the camp would be wondering about us, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Arthur took the chance to kiss my exposed neck, planting a row of three down the center of it before tilting to the side and burying his face, inhaling, groaning softly just for my ears. His hands slid firmly up my sides as he pulled back, they moved over my breasts before finally reaching the top button of my blouse, then he hesitated.

“May I?” Ever the gentleman.

“You may,” I answered sweetly, all proper and with a little grin on my face. I looked down to watch his thick fingers work the delicate buttons and thought about how cute he was. I wouldn't have minded if he wanted to rip the damn thing off of me, but his patience and his effort endeared him to me.

He finally got the last button open after tugging my shirt out from my work jeans, pulling it open to expose my camisole. I often wore skirts and petticoats around camp like the other girls, but all that fabric was cumbersome when trying to hunt. Speaking of layers of fabric, Arthur sighed when he saw my camisole, thin white cotton and a little low cut with the top few buttons left undone.

“All these layers,” he muttered playfully, sliding my blouse off my shoulders before untucking my camisole. “‘s like they're trying to keep me away from you,” he looked up at me with burning arousal in his eyes.

I bit my lip and glanced behind me, eyes scanning the surrounding area. Nobody had passed by for ages, but it didn't stop me from leaning back and reaching up to release the flaps of the tent behind us. At this, Arthur scooted backwards further inside, pulling me with him. The light from the fire bled through the fabric of the tent, dousing both of us in a warm glow. I grasped the hem of my camisole and lifted it over my head, my bare breasts were close to eye level for Arthur and he didn't hide his eager viewing of them, a gravelly moan of appreciation leaving him.

“My god, aren't you beautiful?” He rumbled, hands covering me, squeezing softly, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened.

I sighed and arched into him, my own hands going for his shirt and unbuttoning it much faster than he had managed with mine; smaller hands made for more delicate work. Arthur let go of me only long enough for me to remove his suspenders and slide off his shirt. I ran my hands down his bare chest, enjoying the feeling of fine hair over hot skin, all clinging to firm muscle. He was so unbelievably handsome, his body strong and fit from his work, he didn't seem to realise it though as he stared up at me like he was waiting. Couldn't he see I was appreciating the view?

“Not quite as easy on the eyes as you,” I replied to him, running my tongue along my bottom lip and rolling my hips against his erection, hearing him gasp.

“I ain't nothing special, you could'a gone for any one of the yong’ns, Lenny, Charles… 'stead you went for me,” he whispered, letting his eyes roam my body and my face as he leaned back on his hands, taking a moment to admire me.

“That's right, I went for you. Know why?” I purred, trailing my hand down his torso, watching his belly tense as I unintentionally tickled him. Arthur stared at me expectantly. “'cause I'm sweet on you, not anyone else. You made me fall in love with you so easy, with all your quiet charm and your gentle calmness when you're strolling around camp like y’ do. You're a handsome man, Arthur, not only that; a good one.”

“You know me better than that,” he muttered, a look of mild disapproval appearing on his face.

“You're a good man,” I repeated, not shifting. I couldn't understand why he was so against me saying that. “I could argue that 'till the cows come home. But somethin’ tells me you'd rather take care of this first,” I rocked my hips and he exhaled, eyes closing momentarily.

“You'd be right,” he groaned, eyes flashing open as he took my hips in his hands and flipped me over. Our blanket was thin but it was soft and protected my bare skin from the earth as he laid me down on it, leaning over me. His hand undid my belt buckle and then my jeans, tugging them open before slipping inside.

I sighed softly as his fingers stroked through my folds, making me buck. Arthur chuckled, watching my face carefully as he found my clit and rolled it under his middle finger slowly. He was always so gentle, so attentive to my reactions, so thorough and generous. He was the first man I'd laid with who paid so much attention to my pleasure.

His fingers moved down, two pressing into my opening. He smiled and hummed quietly. “Already nice 'n’ wet for me.”

“You make it so easy,” I teased, stroking my hand up his thick bicep, squeezing along the way. He pushed deeper, stroking that sweet spot inside me. He was firm with it, just as I needed. I rolled my head back and gasped, hips tilting, encouraging him. He continued like that for a while, playing me like a fiddle, like he knew so well how to. Before I could get too lost in the sensation, he removed his fingers; lifting them up to his mouth to get a taste of me.

My face heated and I swallowed hard, I always felt this strange mix of nervousness and arousal whenever he did that, but he always seemed to enjoy himself. With a pleased sound that resembled a growl, Arthur hooked his fingers in my jeans and pulled them down my legs along with my underwear, quickly realising he'd jumped the gun and pausing to remove my boots before undressing me completely. Once I was naked he leaned down to my body, pressing kisses to my breasts, the hollow beneath my rib cage, my navel. He seemed upset when moving further down had his butt poking out of the tent; there just wasn't enough room.

“We ought'a treat ourselves to a night in a hotel at some point,” he said, kneeling between my legs as he parted them, hands caressing my thighs. “I wanna do everything to you.”

“Mm, Arthur,” I breathed, sitting up so I could reach the bulge in his pants. I stroked him through the thick denim, running my fingers along his length and feeling the outline of the head; his breath hitched when I touched him there. I unbuttoned his jeans, pushing my hand inside and wrapping my fingers around him, my strokes were dry and awkward in the confines of his clothes but he still rocked into them with a deep groan.

He pushed his pants down to his thighs, exposing his cock fully before stroking my hair. I tilted my head down and licked my palm as daintily as I could before touching him again. In our position, his cock was too low for me to reach with my mouth so instead I kept my kisses confined to his torso, peppering his chest and abs with them as my slick hand worked him.

“That's nice…” he whispered, hips finding a gentle rhythm with my hand. “I really needed this,” he admitted.

“Me too,” I agreed, my lips ghosting over his nipple before my tongue poked out to flick it. Arthur groaned and stilled my hand, easing me off of him and pushing me to my back. He was breathing heavily now and he pulled off his boots and kicked his legs free of his pants with a sense of urgency. He descended upon me, holding his weight above me but our bodies were flush. He kissed me, his tongue dancing into my mouth as his hips ground down, his cock sliding between my legs against my slick core. We moaned into each other and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pinning him to me.

Arthur pulled back just enough to look into my eyes and with a careful motion of his hips, he entered me. Our breaths escaped us and it was almost like a sigh of relief as he filled me up.

“God, I love you,” he sighed, kissing my temple a number of times.

“Mmm, say that again.”

“I love you. I really do.”

“I love you too, Arthur,” my voice wavered as he pulled back and thrust back in, grunting into my ear. He pressed his face into my neck, kissing me and huffing heavy breaths there as he thrust, soon finding a rhythm and a pace that had me clinging to him. He was so close, pressed so firm against my chest I felt every breath, every moan vibrate through me, his hand cupped the back of my head, protecting it from the hard ground. He surrounded me in every way, filling all of my senses.

My every inhale overwhelmed me with his scent; fresh clean sweat. Smoke and fire. A hint of something metallic – probably blood from when he'd effortlessly hoisted a buck over his shoulder – and the distant smell of soap from his last bath. He smelled very much like the man I knew him to be. Hard working. Strong. Gentle.

My ears, my right one so close to his mouth, heard every sharp exhale, all of his grunts of exertion and groans of pleasure. The wet smack of his lips as he kissed me now and then right below my ear. The slap of his skin against mine as he moved quicker, chasing both of our releases.

His shoulder was close to my face and I kissed him there, tasting saltiness on my lips from perspiration. I decided to all out lick him, not caring how improper that might be; his resulting growl of indulgence told me he didn't either.

My eyes traced the curve of his spine, the contours of his muscles, each scratch and dent of every scar that mottled his back. My hands traced them too, feeling the transition from smooth to rough as they passed wounds from the past. All of my senses. Everything completely filled with him. I tracked my short nails lightly over his back and he moaned, moving to press his forehead against mine.

His proximity meant his body rubbed my clit with every thrust, it all felt so wet and hot and sensitive between my legs and Arthur was working me close. I realised I'd scratched him a little too hard and would've apologised if he didn't seem so damn pleased about it, rolling his head up to the heavens and howling in pleasure.

“That's my girl, leave your mark,” he praised.

It wouldn't be the first time I'd done so. I remembered before the camp knew about us, overhearing Arthur being ribbed by some of the guys when he'd been shirtless, washing O'Driscoll blood from himself. They thought he'd been seeing escorts. He'd simply chuckled, not trying to deny it if only to protect my honour; that was probably about the time I realised how hard I'd fallen for him.

“Oh, I'm close!” I sang out, fingers pressing into the muscle of his back, nails leaving crescents. Arthur growled in satisfaction, upping his pace just a touch more. I cried out and tossed my head back; would've cracked my skull probably, if his hand wasn't there.

“Come on, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he said, his face hovering inches from mine so those alluring blue eyes were all I could see, hardened with a tinge of lustful devilishness when they were usually so soft when directed at me. I was teetering, the crest of my climax creeping up and stealing my coherent thought.

“Oh god, Arthur!” I yelled, vision going white as my pleasure peaked, throbbing, pulsating, making me pant and wail in a way I definitely couldn't get away with at the camp.

“Jesus, that's it. That's my good girl,” he was speaking through clenched teeth, rough slams of his hips turning jerky, losing rhythm. With a strangled cry of pleasure, he pulled out of me, continuing the motion of his hips to grind his cock against the space just above my pussy. He came over my belly with a release of tension, jaw going lax and his throat letting slip glorious, indulgent sounds.

Sometimes, at the height of it all, I wished he'd finish inside me. He never did though, always keeping his head about him when I simply couldn't. We did not need any surprises, and anyway; feeling hot, wet stripes being spilled across my belly gave me a thrill all of its own.

I cupped Arthur's face, stroking moist strands of hair from his eyes. Those eyes, they'd stared up to the heavens as he came, now they were coming back to me. His breath puffed over my lips and I kissed the corner of his mouth, wanting more than anything to give him a proper kiss but knowing he needed to catch his breath more than I did. He'd been doing all the work, after all.

He exhaled loudly, rolling over to one side and landing next to me with a thump that probably smarted a little, given the hardness of the ground. He didn't complain though, draping his hand over my front, momentarily forgetting what he'd just put there. He cursed, sitting up and looking around for something to clean his outstretched, cum-smeared hand. I giggled and he looked at me with an amused smirk.

“You laughin’ at me?”

I sat up and pulled a clean handkerchief out of the pocket of my jeans and pressed it into his dirty palm. “I'm not laughing at you, I just think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” This both surprised and amused him. I leaned back, folding my arms behind my head.

“Yeah, cute,” I grinned. Arthur cleaned up his hand, then did the same to my front before leaning over me.

“I suppose you think grizzly bears are cute, too.”

“Sometimes,” I shrugged, my eyes on him as he came closer. He pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pressing his lips to mine in a languid, tender kiss. When he broke it he sighed softly, looking down at my mouth with lingering desire.

“We should probably get back to camp, get some proper rest,” he said, though he didn't sound all too enthusiastic. He had a point though, our bedding was a lot more comfortable there, and there'd probably be some food left in Pearson's bubbling cauldron. As much as I'd have loved to stay out there alone with Arthur, my stomach had other ideas, and I could've done with a good night's sleep.

“You're right,” I agreed begrudgingly.

I sat up and stretched before redressing – plucking Arthur's hat up and placing it on my own head – feeling thoroughly relaxed and loose in the afterglow. Arthur joined me in dressing and I watched with a hint of sadness to see that body of his covered up again. Oh well, I thought, he looked just as good in those fitted jeans and the shirt with the top buttons left open. He fastened up his suspenders then crawled out of the tent, reaching in to help me up once he was out. I helped him take down our little campsite and we packed our things on our horses. Before we left, Arthur glanced around, turning in a circle with a puzzled frown on his face. I smirked.

Arthur looked up at me, not registering a single thing out of place before asking; “You seen my hat?”

It took three seconds of silence for him to finally realise and with an amused shake of his head and a sigh he snatched the thing off my head.

“And Dutch reckons you ain't cut out for robbin',” he playfully scolded, reaching to give my ass a pat as I turned with a laugh, heading for my horse.

“Dutch reckons a lot of things,” I said as I climbed onto my horse.

“He's gonna reckon we've abandoned him if we don't get back, go on. Lead the way,” Arthur mounted his own horse and followed along behind me.

“I'd challenge you to a race but I know you'd only be embarrassed when I beat you.”

“I'm sure you'd love to try,” he laughed, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “But you're forgetting about that deer on your horse, you don't wanna lose that.”

“Oh, sure. It's about the deer.” I made a show of rolling my eyes as I turned my back on him again. “It’s okay. Maybe next time, unless you think of another excuse.”

“Oh, behave yourself, woman.”

[pinktatertots99]

id love to see your original writing :D

jkhdsfkjhfkjsf oh god. alright i’ll give y’all what a pilot for one of my works would be: apartment 134

________________

scene: (a large array of two story white houses line down a road. a young girl with long white hair that reaches her waist, poofy short sleeved yellow dressed with pastel colored blue and purple dots, matching short yellow boots is walking down the crosswalk. big black eyes that are covered half by her bowl cut bangs look rather neutral faced as she carries a plastic grocery bag to a building with numbers “134″ on it.)

scene:(stepping up the three steps bella opens the door and slams it shut, causing the 1 to fall down and leave the numbers as “34″)

bella:(hand on the door staring at it, closes her eyes and sighs.)

???:”welcome home bella.”

bella:(screams loudly, jumping causing the bag to fall to the floor and oranges popping out. catching her breath she slowly looks to the oranges and growls) “ya bloody fuckwits ya nearly gave me a heart attack!”

(three japanese characters, a tall girl with long black hair in a pink and black polka dotted tie keeping her hair in a ponytail. a boy with short black hair and a green beanie cap, and another girl that looks like the first girl who is smaller all stare at her with almost soulless eyes in their matching black tank tops, baggy pants and hard boots. in order their kelly, andy, and casey.)

kelly:”we.”

andy:”do.”

casey:”apologize.”

all three:”bella.”

(all three bow in unisom as bella rolls her eyes.)

bella:”just…uuugh just help me with the bleedin oranges we ain’t got much time!”

(all three go picking them up and heading for the kitchen. kelly slices them, andy peels some, casey unfolds some slices, and bella is squeezing juice out of one them as the door slams open.)

???:”we’re baaaaaack!!!”

(coming out of the front door is a short haired young brunette’d blue eyed man with in a white tank top, denim shorts and black work boots. this is brett; and a short blond haired brown eyed man with a yellow tank top with a black horizonel stripe on it, black pants and brown shoes and a black barret with two red hearts on it; this is buzz)

bella:”oh for fucks sakes where the hell you’ve been?!”

brett:”treating ourselves duh.”

buzz:”aaaand gettin numbers~.”

bella:”which one actually got numbers?”

both:”me.”

bella:”which one got numbers by a man?”

brett:”me!”

buzz:”oh fuck you bell’s.”

bella:”bleck, find someone inta that first ya wanka.”

(buzz blushes as brett laughs while bella leaves the kitchen)

bella:”fuckin ‘ell i forgot somethin! (rushes up the many stares that leads to the door closest to the set) you two help the trip-ets we got our landlord comin today!”

both:”why didn’t you tell us earlier!?” (neither get a reply as bella slams the door).

(in her plain room she walks back and fourth nervously, after the third time a female demon appears. eyes blue with the left one being lighter. short choppy brown hair. a tattered light green tank top and dark blue tattered skirt, red high heels and matching red belt and red collar with yellow studs accessorize on her as she levitates in the air watching with a smirk.)

tak:”hiiiii blue beeells~.”

bella:”can it. did any of the delivery imps come by?”

tak:”awww your not fun with lingering things out.”

bella:”tak i swear ta-”

tak:”anyone honestly. but no not yet.”

(once she said that a tiny chubby and purple imp popped to the two in a small puff of smoke.)

imp:”ahem. here for a…bella blair borislav brunhilde.”

bella:”yeah yeah big guy what did he say?”

imp:”gee nice meeting you too. anyways, “to the newest heir of hell’s thrown. i, beezlebub satan, have decided…to stay longer on my thrown until my death or retirement. thank you you will still be on hold till future notice.” “

(once the imp finished it exploded in dust and tiny slowly falling pieces. bella stared wide eyed with a bit of blood blown on her face as tak took the tiny spleen wrapping it around her finger)

tak:”poor things, once their messanger job is done they just pop like cute little balloons~. wonder if i can make jewlery outta these?” (as she talks bella fumes more and more angry.)

bella:”OH FUCKING BOLLOCKS!!!!”

(the entire house shakes outside. inside it also shakes as brett and buzz have plates of orange slices on platters.)

brett:”…didn’t get into hell?”

buzz:”didn’t get into hell.”

brett:”well on the brightside we might be if we don’t finish this.”

(both go back to the kitchen as bella slams the door open, wiping her face with a towel as tak follows her still floating)

tak:”daawww c’mon bell’s your so gwumpy.”

bella:”for all me years and all the bleedin souls i had-ta find i expected BETTA from that stinkin rula!!”

tak:”least ya can do whatever you want, and do whoever you want~.”

bella:”this is why i regret eva summonin ya ya mistake.”

casey:”bella.”

(both look to find casey with a scroll.)

casey:”this came in the mail for you.”

bella:”oh for fuck sakes. (snatches it and opens it) …oh bloody satan.”

tak:”wha?”

bella:”it’s cursed.”

tak:”how could you tell?”

bella:”that depen’s is the ghost ninja an ol’ fling of your’s?”

(all the residents looked to find a see through ghost ninja staring at them, withdrawing a katana and rushing to the closest brett. using the platter as a shield he quickly moves to slice it’s head in two)

brett:”hah!”

ninja:(forms into two)

brett:”oh…”

(both go to attack, only for casey to withdraw two nine milimeter guns to shoot them. causing an increase only to shoot more till the whole room is filled with them with the small group huddled at the stair case.)

bella:”alright, any other bright ideas!?”

buzz:”hmmmmmmmm-”

(all rush up the stairs with kelly taking buzz by the collar as the ninja ghosts chase them to bella’s room. once all in bella puts salt infront of the door from her pockets. brett rushes to the window and pours some that’s right next to it. soon they all sit catching their breaths.)

bella:”that…was rhetorical…ya dumb blonde.”

buzz:”wwell what do we do?!”

bella:”it’s a curse from the bloody map.”

brett:”can’t you burn it?!”

bella:”it’s chain mail dumbarse! ya can’t burn chainmail!”

tak:”soooo what do we do? can i fuck em to afterlife?”

bella:”mean, be a good distraction cause i’m shit at japanese. (squinting her eyes to read) something something solider something something souls-”

andy:”(reading the scroll) this scroll contains the unsatisfied souls of ninety nine royal ninja solders. they will attack and increase with each critical hit till all of them come out. the only way to take care of this is to take out three solders. the solder with the golden bracelet, the luitennet’s green tied ponytail, and the lead general’s red earring.”

bella:”…and this is why i have three of ya. (pulls out a handle only for a sword’s blade to magically come out) ready ya lot?”

buzz:”(pulls a small knife from his boot) born ready baby!”

buzz:(catches a nine revolver from casey as she busy’s arming herself with a sniper rival)”man, i’m still not good at this guys!”

tak:”(her hands slowly turn into red sharp claws) keep by me sugar, i’ve been needing this for a hella long time~.”

bella:”rememba, gold bracelet, green tie, red earring. (opens the door as they all run out screaming)”

(swiftly brett keeps some ghosts from hitting him, using his small knife as a sword. looking around he spots a ninja with a golden bracelet.) brett:”over there!”

casey:(shoots him down with a sniper rifle, a decrease of 33 ghosts happens as kelly and andy busy protecting her with their own blades fighting off the other ghosts)

(continuing the battle tak sighs as her darker blue eye turns a shade of black with a red iris. her fangs growing out as her wings, horn and tail show themselves.) tak:”oh this is JUST what i needed~!” (taking off her heals she quickly took off the heel on both to show knives attatched. putting them back on she proceeds quickly slashing and slicing the other ghosts till she notices a ninja with a green hair tie.) “oh THERE you are pretty boy~!” (rushes away from them as she tackles him, a decrease ensues leaving only 33 left) “boooo, was hopin he’d stay longer~.”

bella:(slices more ninja’s that only come back as she snarls)”bloody things, first landowna, then satan, now ya is this supposed ta ruin my day!?” (quickly she notices one with a red earring closer to buzz) “OI VIRGIN SHOOT THE ONE NEXT TO YA!”

buzz:”first of all RUDE! second i can’t shoot!”

bella:”JUST PRETEND IT’S ME THEN!”

buzz:”but i like you!!!”

bella:”pretend it’s some bloody arse ya hate!”

buzz:(musters up an angry look as he aims the gun)”I WANTED TO GO WITH MOM YOU SELFISH DICK!” (shoots the gun at the final one, desimating all the ghosts as all of them sigh of relief)

(before anything can be said three of the apparations appear before the group as they regroup, bowing to them. in response the trip-ets bow, bella, brett and tak following with buzz forcefully bowing thanks to bella as the three go back into the scroll, magically tying it up.)

buzz:”so…we have to give that…to someone else now right?”

bella:”usually but this is a pretty hefty one. we can keep these kind for emergencies.”

buzz:”like?”

brett:”a relative?”

buzz:”oh…i call dibs!”

(the doorbell rung, all of them besides the trip-ets looked horrified as they noticed the disrepair of the slashed and bullet ridden house. quickly they all scrammed grabbing a dented platter and placing orange slices, orange juice and yogurt with oranges in it on it.)

bella(opens the door with a forced smile holding the platter):”hhey hi yes hello mista tree!”

(infront was a wealthy and weighted man with a bright blue tux with an orange undershirt and green tie, his hair balding only leaving a flip of orange hair on it and a full orange mustache as he glared down with orange brown eyes)

mr. tree:”bout time you lolly-gagging apricots! (takes a orange slice and eats it with the peal on) now you know the deal i have to see the- SWEET CORAL CARROTS! (he sees the damage inside)”

bella:”…ehehe uhm…riight well i mean we can fix this just uh-”

mr. tree:”YOU KIDS AND YOUR REBEL ROUHSING I’M KICKING YOU OUT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!”

(all looked horrified except the trip-et’s who looked neutral. tak hummed and groaned as she became visible to him, floating closely to him as her eye’s turned a lustful pink color.)

tak:”you don’t wanna do that~.”

mr. tree:”I-…don’t…want to do that.”

tak:”you wanna do your wife instead~.”

mr. tree:”i…wanna do my wife…instead.”

tak:”good boy~. now have this~.” (smooching his head mister tree was put in more of a dream-like hypnosis daze.)

mr tree:”misses tree…your wearing an orange one piece…made of actual oranges? …god i’m hungry~.”

tak:(flicks his head into a portal and slamming the door shut)”that should lead him back home….i think.”

bella:”long as we get this shit cleaned up before next inspection.”

buzz:”awww noooow? we just got done taking on an army!”

bella:”yeah well i didn’t get to rule hell today so no one’s gonna be bloody happy! now pick up a broom and get sweepin ya trigger happy nut case.”

(they all groan save for the trip-ets as they all moved to clean. expanding out of the house the 1 from earlier magically turns back up.)

[changingourdestiny]

Coronation Part 7: Love’s a Gambit

Summary:

In a burst of Light, Marcia - now free from any corruption - lands the finishing blow to the Primeval. While the rest of the Vanguard return to the Tower, Fireteam Paralight and the Drifter, with an unconscious Marcia, regroup at the Derelict.

Previous Part: Here

Epilogue: Here

“I DIDN’T THINK THIS THROUGH!!!”

Rae desperately held onto her Dawnblade, which was buried deep into one of the spaces between the Chimera Primeval’s shell, as it spun and whipped around furiously in an attempt to shake her off. “Oh no…” Rae felt her Super fade as the blade disappeared and she fell off the Primeval, “Oh no, no, no, no!” As she fell, Rae suddenly felt herself being caught by someone before being teleported back down to the ground. Ikora had glided up to her and then blinked the both of them back down to safety. “Thank me later.” Ikora set Rae on the ground before attacking the Primeval with her shotgun, the Invective. “Guys, the seal!” Blaze exclaimed. “Yeah, we know! We’re fighting as fast as we can.” Rae called back as she went to town on the Primeval with her auto-rifle.

“No! Look!”

Rae glanced up at the ceiling of the Dreadnaught and her eyes went wide. The seal was retreating backwards and disappearing completely in some patches. “The seal…it’s disappearing?” Drifter muttered as he stared at it. “Drifter, watch your six!” Blaze exclaimed. Drifter spun around to see the Primeval about to fire right at him.

*Whoosh!!!*

A gold blur when darting past Drifter and alongside the Primeval, carving a golden line along it and making it roar in pain. “Oi, ugly!” A familiar voice yelled out. Everyone, Primeval included looked up to where the gold blur had soared into the air and was hovering above the Primeval. Eyes glowing gold and white, golden wings stretched wide with beautiful white markings and matching horns, markings no longer a mix of purple and sickly teal green but a beautiful bright gold. There, no longer corrupted and flying high in her now purified Starlight form, was Marcia Wyverk – Starlight of Tribe Claw. “No way…” Rae gasped. Marcia smirked at the Primeval as she spun her scythe a few times before dive bombing the Primeval, zipping around it as she landed blow after blow with her scythe. The Primeval fired a blast of Taken energy at Marcia, but she sliced through it – using the scythe’s ability to negate any Darkness that came her way. “Take this, you ascendant dolt!” Marcia yelled as she swung her scythe down heavily, causing a blade of golden Light to go soaring right into the Primeval’s mouth. Golden cracks appeared across the Primeval before it exploded into pieces. Marcia was breathing heavily as she gently glided back down to the ground before her Starlight form disappeared. She looked over her shoulder at Drifter and gave him a weak smile and a thumbs up…before collapsing to the ground. Drifter, breaking out of his shocked stupor, sprinted over to the unconscious Hunter and checked her over. She was alive and breathing, just passed-out from exhaustion. “Is she okay?!” Rae asked, sprinting over to the two rogues with the rest of Paralight and the Vanguard not far behind. “Yeah. She’s just tired. Thankfully…” Drifter muttered the last part. “Uh, guys?” Cayde spoke up as he spotted more Taken flooding into the hull breach. Rae turned to Blaze, “I’ll take Marcia. You take Drifter and we’ll regroup at the Derelict.” Rae then turned to her fellow Vanguard, “I’ll meet you guys back at the Tower once we make sure Marcia’s alright.” The group sprinted towards their own jumpships and soared away from the Dreadnaught as fast as they could.

———————————————————————

Carrying Marcia bridal-style, Rae felt her feet land on the solid floor of the Derelict. She had only ever been in the Derelict’s ready room when Blaze managed to drag her into a round of Gambit every once in a while but had never actually seen the rest of the ship. She knew Blaze had been inside while helping Drifter with ‘business’, as he’d put it. Knowing him, it was probably something that would get him in serious trouble with the Vanguard. Rae looked down at the unconscious Marcia in her arms and noticed something. Her arm markings, which was originally a dull periwinkle that turned into the sickly dark teal that was similar to the colour of the Taken were now a bright periwinkle. It confirmed Rae’s suspicions; Marcia was no longer corrupted at all. Her Light had completely returned. But how? One moment she was on the verge of becoming Taken, the next she was in a completely purified Starlight form. What caused the sudden change?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Drifter, Adam and Blaze arriving behind her. “Geez. Glad I was ridin’ with Blaze.” Drifter chuckled, “You fly like it was the end of the universe or somethin’.”

“I told you that you fly too fast!” Ghost piped up as he appeared beside his Guardian. “Yeah, yeah.” Rae rolled her eyes playfully as she gently pushed Ghost down, causing him to disappear. “Anyway, follow me. Marcia can stay in my room.” Drifter motioned for the group to follow him as he walked down a catwalk to the left. As they walked down the dark corridors of the Derelict, Rae shivered as she felt an icy-cold draft blow past her. “The hell? Why’s it so-?” Rae cut herself off as they turned a corner and arrived in a large room full of snow and ice crystals. “…cold.” Rae finished as she stared wide-eyed at the snow filled room before turning to Drifter, “How…when did…do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” Drifter shrugged with a smirk, “C’mon. Room’s right ahead!” Drifter lead the small Fireteam to what seemed like a small shipping container with a light illuminating the inside. “You…sleep in the snow?” Adam asked in disbelief as they trudged through the snow.

“Trust me, brother. I’ve slept in worse.” Drifter replied simply.

“Again, do I wanna know?” Rae asked.

“Again, probably not.”

They arrived inside the container. It had some boxes and miscellaneous items – one box having what seemed like a Vex arm sticking out – littered about with what seemed like a work table with a couple of guns and some papers strewn about and a banner hung above it with the Gambit symbol on it. Opposite the table was a table with a blue and orange sleeping bag on it and a red pillow lying on it. Drifter sauntered up to the sleeping bag, opened it up and placed the pillow inside it. “I got ‘er.” Drifter took carefully took Marcia from Rae’s arms and laid her inside the sleeping bag, zipping her up in it. “There we go. Give ‘er some rest and she’ll be back to action in no time.” Drifter sighed, Rae hearing a tad of relief in his voice. “Hey, Adam.” Blaze grinned, motioning to the snow with her head, “Snowball fight?”

“Considering I still need to get you back for that New Year’s video,” Adam smirked, “You’re on!” The two Guardians ran off into the snow and began pelting each other with snowballs. “Ah, guys! Wait, you don’t know if- I dunno if it’s actually sno- ugh, they’re gone.” Rae sighed in defeat. “Ah, don’t worry about ‘em.” Drifter chuckled, “Marcia’s pelted me with plenty o’ them snowballs and I’m fine, ain’t I?”

“Do you want me to answer honestly or…?” Rae smirked. “Oh, ha ha.” Drifter rolled his eyes sarcastically, ”Are the rest of the Vanguard as funny as you?”

“Cayde? Yes – funnier even. Ikora? She’s more into witty comebacks to the jokes Cayde and I make. Zavala? Well…not so much.”

“Figured.”

Drifter plopped down on a nearby box with a sigh as she glanced at the sleeping Marcia, “I swear, one of these days, that woman’s gonna give me a heart attack. Seems like avoiding death by a hair’s length is a common thing for her.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Rae chuckled slightly as she recalled their adventure on the Moon. Rae glanced between him and Marcia, “So…what is the relationship between you too?”

“What’cha mean?”

“Well, from what Blaze tells me, you aren’t really one for getting close to people. However, it seems like you care an awful lot about Marcia. And from what I’ve seen, she cares a lot about you too.” Drifter let out a heavy exhale as he stared down at his feet, thinking about how to word his thoughts, “Well…when you’ve been out in the wilds as long as I have, you learn that gettin’ too close to people will only get ya hurt in the end. However…there are some people that, no matter how ya try, just seem to stick with ya. Here’s the thing about Marcia. She’s tough. Granted, most of you Guardians are. But not like she is. She’s been to hell ‘n’ back and has stared death in the face who knows how many times. Hell, from what she tells me, she’s stared death in the face even before she was revived. The fact that she’s gone through all of that and has still managed to keep herself and her Ghost intact…well, that’s beyond me. But if there’s one or two things I’ve learned about that kid, it’s that she’s loyal and honest. Secretive, maybe. But ‘ey, you gotta be to survive. Even so, you can trust ‘er to tell ya the truth when it matters. When I first met ‘er, I figured those things were gonna get ‘er killed at some point. Yet here she is. Even if we went our separate ways once or twice, she always had my back. Even if she knew there was a high chance she’d get herself killed, she still stuck with me. Dunno why. Maybe she liked the danger. Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she was just as nuts as I was. Maybe all of ‘em. Either way, it got to a point where…I’ll be honest here, I began to miss havin’ ‘er by me when we would be split. When she showed up at your first Gambit, I immediately knew it was ‘er. I only knew one person that could fight how she did. And I gotta admit, I was relieved seein’ ‘er there. After findin’ out what the Red Legion did to a lotta Guardians…well I immediately assumed the worst. I was kickin’ myself ‘cause I kept tellin’ myself I’d only wind up getting’ hurt if I kept carin’ about ‘er and there I was hurtin’. And I felt the same way again seein’ ‘er practically dyin’ there on the Dreadnaught…with nothin’ I could do to save ‘er. Yet both times, she managed to prove me wrong. I guess…well, I guess since I just can’t seem to shake ‘er, might as well face facts, right?” Drifter lifted his gaze from the ground and faced Rae, “You wanna know what’s my relationship with Marcia? Well…I love ‘er. And while it ain’t sayin’ much comin’ from me, it’s the straight and honest truth.”

Rae gave an understanding smile, “I had a feeling. Seeing the dynamic you two have, it reminded me a lot of myself and Cayde. Well, if Cayde and I were ten-times crazier.”

“Heh. True that. Seems like nothin’s able to separate you two, eh? Crazy Cabal overlord shows up, you manage to find and save ‘im on a Vex-infested planet. Ex-Awoken prince and his undead Fallen posse beat ‘em up, you manage to bring ‘im and his Ghost back to life. I don’t know that guy as well as you do – personally, knew enough to know I didn’t like ‘im all that much – but a lotta people would kill for what you have.” Drifter chuckled.

“I’ll be honest,” Rae began, “I’m surprised you’re telling me this. I figured the last person you’d open up to is a Vanguard. Then again, you could be lying for all I know, but…something tells me you’re not.”

“Well, you’re right. About both of those things actually.” Drifter shrugged, “But Marcia trusts you and your little crew. If she trusts ya, then I trust ya. Even if ya are a snitch.” Rae went to say something but was interrupted by a snowball hitting her in the side of her head. “Oops!” Rae heard Blaze exclaim, “Rae, uh…Adam did it!”

“Oh no, you’re not pinning this on me!” Adam argued. As the two Guardians bickered, Rae glanced at Drifter, “Wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”

“Hmm…never thought I’d team up with a Vanguard…” Drifter feigned thought but shrugged, “Eh. First time for everything, right?” Blaze and Adam continued to argue until Blaze heard the sound of two pairs of footsteps running through the snow. She turned to see Rae and Drifter charging at them with snowballs in hand. “We’re invading!” Rae yelled with a smirk as she lobbed a snowball at Blaze. “Make a mess!” Drifter finished as he aimed for Adam. “Oh geez, run!!” Blaze laughed in a mix of joy and terror as she and Adam dodged the incoming snow barrage as they retaliated with snowballs of their own. Little did they know that as their snowball fight raged on, a certain Hunter had woken up and was watching from the edge of the container. She smiled and chuckled to herself before returning to the sleeping bag, still tired from the last few days’ craziness.

To Be Continued…

[nom-the-skel]

[vore] Redbunny is a Good Snack, chapter 10

Mean pred, soft safe vore

[chapter 1][chapter 9][on AO3]

“Look what I got!”

Sans just wanted to go back to sleep, to ignore the fact that he was huddled in the corner of a cage. The fact that Papyrus was there too—and what’s more, injured—just made it worse. Blueberry and Papyrus were apparently talking now, and they’d teamed up to badger Carrots into rinsing him off before breakfast, but that just left him wet and miserable and still not entirely rid of Carrots’ orange magic residue.

He could tell Papyrus was worried that Sans had barely eaten. His brother had given him his sweater back and only grumbled, not scolded him, when he didn’t put it on properly but just curled up with it to try and nap. All he wanted to do was sleep; it was the only escape from his situation.

“Chili was right,” Blue continued, piercingly loud. “You can’t just leave them in the cage all the time! They need exercise.”

“Chili needs to rest after you bit him,” Carrots argued, disdainfully.

Sans reluctantly lifted his skull. Blueberry was clutching a book with a picture of a rabbit on the cover. Papyrus was strategically restraining his indignation at being thought weak.

“Maybe, but I bet he’d like to explore the house!” Blueberry said, “It’s fine so long as he takes it easy, right?”

Carrots looked toward the cage. “Are you gonna take it easy, Chili?”

Papyrus rolled his eyes. “If I must.”

“And Cherry really does need exercise!” Blueberry added. “Look at him. He barely moves!”

“I must agree with you on that,” said Papyrus, a predictable betrayal.

Sans groaned. Maybe he should be pleased at the prospect of not being in a small enclosed space for once, not to mention the opportunity to look for potential escape routes, but it wasn’t worth being conscious.

“See?” Blueberry put his hands on his hips. “He’s miserable in there. Bunnies need exercise and stimulation.” He raised the book and pointed at something on the page. “He isn’t eating. He might even die if you don’t care for him properly!”

“All right, fine. But I bet he just hides under the couch and naps.”

Sans again found himself pressed against the floor as Carrots turned his soul blue—then falling upward, his fingers hitting the metal bars on the way out of the cage, until Carrots caught him.

“Remember, Cherry. Even if you escape, you’ll just find out that the monsters out there aren’t as friendly as us, and by the time you regret it you’ll already be dust. I don’t care if you hide, but you better come out when I call you, or else.” Carrots gave him a warning squeeze.

Sans nodded meekly. “You got it.” Maybe it would be easier to pretend he was somewhere else without the bars of the cage around him.

“And don’t get yourself dirty,” Blueberry added. “Papy probably won’t go to the trouble of washing you off before he eats you.”

“Right,” Sans agreed, making a mental note to pick up as much dirt as he could find.

“Okay then.” Carrots lowered him near the floor and then dropped him.

Fortunately the carpet was soft and he was only dazed for a moment. He looked up at the foxes from this unfamiliar vantage point, glanced at his brother, who had climbed out of the cage and was standing on the table next to it, then made a dash for under the couch. Nobody tried to stop him, but his soul was pounding by the time he reached the center, as far as possible from any fox that tried to reach in after him.

It wasn’t terribly comfortable, he realized. The cage at least had some reasonably soft bedding; the bare carpet was a slight step down. He sat and waited, too anxious that Carrots might decide he wanted Sans to stay within sight after all to seriously consider napping.

“What’d I tell ya?” Carrots said. “Right under the couch. If he doesn’t come out—”

“It’s okay! I can pick up the couch! If we have to,” said Blueberry. “Chili? You don’t want to hide? Come help me in the kitchen!”

Blueberry’s voice grew distant, and Sans heard the sound of Carrots flopping himself onto the couch above him. He flinched, even though it was unlikely the couch would collapse at this exact moment after surviving the same treatment countless times. After Carrots had been silent for a while, he was finally able to relax. Before he fell asleep, he took a closer look at his surroundings. There was dust—the innocuous kind, not dead monsters—on the floor, where even Blueberry apparently didn’t bother cleaning often. A few candy wrappers and a solitary coin were accompanied by some less identifiable odds and ends. The coin was so large that if they’d been back home, Sans might have tried to use it to buy his freedom, but here it was probably only worth 1G. Even if he had any use for it, it was far too big to fit in his pocket. The candy wrappers were no help. The rest of it was stray bits of plastic that had probably been parts of larger, more useful objects at some point, a few bent pieces of metal, and a paper clip. Sans lay down in the dust to sleep until Carrots called him back.

***

“Boss. You awake?”

“Yes. I can’t believe you just walked up to Carrots when he called you.”

Sans rolled his eyes, hoping it was dark enough that Papyrus wouldn’t see the gesture. He’d voluntarily climbed back into the cage when Blueberry had asked, himself. “Never mind that. I got somethin’.”

“What is it?”

“Shh, we don’t wanna risk wakin’ up the foxes.” Sans pulled up the sweater and dislodged the paper clip from inside his rib cage. He was lucky Carrots hadn’t forced him to undress, or it would have been noticed. “Can you help me get close to the door?”

Of course the cage was kept locked when the rabbits weren’t wanted, or Edge would have escaped on his first day. It was far from a given that Sans would be able to pick the lock, and it made it significantly harder that the door was on the top of the cage. Papyrus was still injured, even if he was hiding it, but he managed to help prop Sans up so that the weaker skeleton could hang onto the bars while working on the lock.

Sans was stiff and exhausted by the time the lock popped open with a satisfying click. He was afraid to believe he’d actually succeeded until he pushed up on the door and it moved freely.

“Come on up, Boss,” he said, not letting the door fall back into place for fear that it would re-lock itself.

Papyrus climbed over him and pushed the door all the way open, and Sans let himself fall back into the cage.

“What are you doing?” Papyrus hissed. “I’m not going without you!”

“Course not, Boss. I just couldn’t hang on any longer.”

Papyrus had to come back down and haul Sans out of the cage, but at last they both hopped down from the table. It involved some acrobatics on Papyrus’s part to not only reach but turn a doorknob, but they made their way to the machine in the basement.

“Can you get us home from here?” Papyrus glared up at the machine, and although most monsters wouldn’t have been able to tell, Sans could detect the note of uncertainty in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ve got a plan.” Sans clambered his way onto the control panel. He knew how the machine was supposed to work, and he’d been thinking all evening about what he was going to do. The interface was about what he expected, thank the stars. He set about implementing his plan. The portal made a noise, and if Carrots could hear it from his room, he didn’t want to risk summoning the fox until he was ready to leave.

“Can you operate it?” Papyrus called up, impatient.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem! I gotta do somethin’ to stop Carrots from comin’ after us again. Just take a few minutes.”

“Hurry up!”

Sans muttered to himself. Papyrus could show a little more gratitude, or at least patience, since he was covering their tracks. He finished what he was doing and then looked down at Papyrus. “I’m gonna open it now. Go on through the moment it’s open, and I’ll be right behind ya.”

“Understood.”

Sans activated the portal home, and when he turned to make sure Papyrus had gone through, he saw only his tail and leg vanishing into the energy vortex. Satisfied, he hopped down to follow. He stumbled on the landing, but kept his feet. The portal would close in only a few seconds, and he absolutely couldn’t let himself be trapped on this side.

The pop of a teleport, almost indistinguishable under the fizz of the portal, was an extremely unwelcome sound. Sans didn’t stop to make sure of what he’d heard, but leapt for the glowing gateway.

A familiar hand snatched him out of the air before he reached it. As it drew him back and upward, the portal shrunk and popped out of existence. The hum of the machine fell and vanished as it powered down.

“No!” Sans struggled wildly for a moment, then went limp in the fox’s grasp. There was no point. It was over.

“How’d you get down here, bunny? Where’s Chili?” Carrots asked, his tone deliberately casual.

Sans didn’t answer.

“You opened a portal, didn’t you? Clever bunny,” the fox snorted sarcastically. “I bet Chili got through, didn’t he? You’ve put me to a lot of trouble recapturing him.”

Sans hung from his hand, staring at the floor.

“You didn’t think I’d let him go, did you? I have to get back my bro’s pet.”

“You can’t.” Sans lifted his skull to grin darkly up at him.

“Sure I can, same as I did the first time.”

Sans laughed. “Maybe, but you’re gonna start from scratch.”

“What do you mean?” Carrots lifted him to eye level, glaring.

Sans shrugged. The fox would figure it out pretty soon anyway. “Memory’s wiped. You’ll hafta reprogram it from the ground up.”

Carrots bristled. “Don’t tell me you—!” He smoothed his ears with one hand, letting Sans dangle from the other. “That’s unfortunate. For you. You’re really stuck here now, aren’t ya?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Serves you right.”

Carrots lifted Sans above his skull, and as heartbreaking as it was to face this again when he had been so close to being finished with it forever, Sans didn’t really care. He was used to it, being teased with the view of Carrots’ wide-open mouth, the rush as he was dropped in—

Carrots caught the bunny with his teeth, and Sans squeaked in terror. One hard bite would be more than enough to dust him. But the fox was satisfied with his fear, and only held him in place, poking at him a little with his tongue before finally pulling him inside, letting his teeth scrape against bone, just short of painful, so Sans felt like it ought to hurt even when it didn’t. After that the embrace of the soft wet magic was almost soothing.

[cuthie]

Omru: Talk Talk Talk

Dripping.

  Vul’dun was a hot desert often frequented by raging sandstorms. The heat could be downright oppressive and water a scarce resource. So when Omru came to, the sound of dripping water was almost alien to his large vulpine ears. Slowly he brought his hands to his eyes, wiping the crud sleep had gathered along his lashes.

Drip, drip-drip, drip.

  Om groaned as he sat up, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Beneath him was a thin blanket atop a smooth stone. The air was relatively warm and along the walls were torches being held by small earthen sconces. He was inside a cave, that much was certain, though not one he was familiar with. In the corner was a very small shallow pool, and what was interesting was that water seemed to drip down only above the puddle and nowhere else. Near the water was an odd red metal object, drilled into the stone itself. The drill had a flickering blue light that seemed to match the rhythm of the dripping droplets.

Blink blink blink, drip drip drip.

  Light flickered at the opposite end of the cave as a hooded figure passed before a torch, revealing an exit Om hadn’t initially seen. A trick of the stone, it only looked to be a solid room, the far cavern wall blending into what looked like a stone hallway. This hooded figure began to sing in the most off key croaking sounds Omru had ever heard.

“Oh wella wella wella woop, tell me mo’, tell me mo’, how much dough did he spend?”

  Omru snarled his muzzle, “If you’re gonna kill me, then kill me quickly. I can’t bare this kinda torture a moment longer.” The hooded figure stepped into the torchlight, revealing himself to be an odd furless bipedal creature.. Like a troll but not quite, Vulperine in size,and ugly as sin.

“Ey, I been nurturin’ yous back ta life with these songs. Fuggin kids today don’t appreciate nothin, I tell ya. Anyways, welcome back to tha land of tha livin’. We diden getta meet proper last time, on account of yous was seducin’ rocks with them pipes. I’m jelly, ta tell ya true. At’s a gift, kid, but damn if I ain’t all befuddled tryin ta figure out what that’s gotta do wit’ shamanism. And I’m sure you gots questions too, so let’s have a nice chat. Whaddaya say? Tha name’s Pazaz. Pazaz Nunya Bidniz, proud member of the Earthen Ring and.. Kindy sorta semi ashamed member of the notorious Horde. Heh.”

  Omru’s big bright orange eyes blinked in mild disbelief. He wasn’t really up and up on his history, but Horde sounded like a familiar word. What really struck his interest was this green ball of hot air’s funky way of talking. Of course, trading tales and exchanging information was a way of life out in the desert, often a profitable one. Still, this guy had saved his life, so Om wasn’t withholding. “Omru. I kind of remember you. I’ll be honest, waking up, I kind of thought I had just dreamt you into creation. Sooo, what happened and where are we?”

“Omru what? No last name?”

“Nah. Having more than one name just sounds complicated. I’ve heard of a few, though.”

  Paz shrugged, “Cool. Okay, so, I came here ta Sargeras’s butthole on a super secret mission. Recruitin good guys to fix the world’s problems. Ain’t secret no mo’s, is it? Aha! Along the way, I saw that a buncha you fox folks was all chained up and/or enslaved. Slavery is uh.. We had it back in Kezan, former island paradise of my peoples the Goblins. I had a few myself, but I done learnt the errors of my ways, yeah? So I went about settin yous all free. Ain’t that sweet’a me? You remember that bit, for sure. I smashed them shackles right offa yous, then ya summoned an elemental to smash them slavers into snake dust. You passed out, ya babysitter picked ya up, and I lead you and about a dozen more Vulpera out ta safety. The Horde’s got the rest of your friends.. Or family or whatever. I kept you, though. Even built up these lil digs. I ain’t the best healer, but it got the job done. Your turn, tell me about the rock monster you employed.”

  Omru’s eyes darted from corner to corner in the room as he absorbed the story. Sargeras? Probably a religious figure. Goblins. That sounded familiar, right? He had heard of them before. Probably. He scratched at the back of his neck, his shoulders feeling stiff as he did. In response, he hopped up off the ‘table’ and stretched out. For a moment he just patted himself down, checking that all of his parts were there, then curled his tail to his arm for inspection. Everything seemed fine. Better than when he was chained up for sure. Hm. “So. You saved me, thanks, I owe you. Rock monster, huh? Yeah, she came in handy. I’ll be honest, not too sure how it all works. Just something I found a few months ago. Not Rocky, but the totem on the rawhide. That was my second time using it, glad it worked. Now, you said you kept me here instead of leaving me with the rest at the Horde camp. Why?”

  Pazaz picked at his nose with his pinky finger, then flicked the booger towards a wall to let it stick. “Found it. That don’t sound right.”

  Omru cringed. Ugh, what a dirty little bastard. He took a second to shake the image from his head, “Well, that’s the truth. I find lots of things. Not all of them summon stone guardians though. That’s why it’s my most prized possession.”

Paz exhaled, “So you don’t know nothin ‘bout shamanism?”

“I know it’s a thing that a couple troll tribes do to talk to ghosts, trees and bugs.”

Paz rolled his eyes, “That ain’t right, ya numb skull. Ghosts? Sure. Trees? Nah-uh. Bugs? No way. The elements kid. We commune with the whole flippin’ world.”  Shaking his head, he pointed towards the red metal machine dug into the stone near the pool, “That’s my water totem. I’m a shammy extree-fuggin-ordinaire. And that’s why you’re with me instead of the goof troop back in the sand bunker. Horde is uh.. Horde is good people sometimes, but bad people to they’s enemies. I diden want’cha involved with them until I talked to yous first. The Earthen Ring, remember I told ya I work for’em? They’re all shaman. They all got different ways of talkin to the elements, maybe even some of them sing, heh. Me, personally? I write contracts, with a small exception for my favorite breath of fresh air. Anyways, yeah, I’m kinda hopin to recruit yous. You got talent, kid. Not just singin, which was great. Like, dream big, you could make it as an entertainer. But communin’ with the earth the way ya did? It was casual, natural even, right? Folks don’t just pick up a totem and use it. Magic don’t work that way, the elements don’t work that way. So the way I sees it? You got shamanism in ya blood. Or mayhap ya just an elemental bard or some shit and you’s singin is all magickal and whatnot. I dunno, but I think with a couple of years learnin from the Earthen Ring, yous could help repair the planet. Maybe. Shamanism is hard as fel. Anyways, Azeroth needs all the repairs she can get. Whether you know this or not, this bitch is about to flip on it’s back and flat out die. Dead. D.E.D. Dead. You unnastand the words what’re comin outta my mouth?”

  Omru folded his arms over his chest as he stared at the metal totem. It was nothing like his own mystical treasure. His was a small wooden vulpine carving attached to rawhide. This thing was ten to twenty times bigger, metal and blinking. Weird. Shamanism wasn’t a foreign concept, he had seen a shaman or two. Some of the Vulpera even. Honestly though? He had no idea where he would even start with such an offer, but, he did owe this guy. “Uh. I’m getting like every other word. Cultural differences and all that. You want me to be a shaman and meet your friends? That’s- Not in the stars, my friend. Sorry, I just don’t see myself putting on religious garb and becoming best friends with the clouds. I can help in other ways, though. I mean, I owe you my life. Oh and where are we? You didn’t say. Not many sources of water out here.”

  Paz grinned, his sharpened goblin teeth akin to a baby shark’s, do doo do doo do doo, “Shame. It ain’t for everyone, and for all I know, yous got lucky with the necklace. Anyways, far as where we is? We’re only a hop skip anna jump from where I snuck into the Slitherfucks nest to save yous. The pool comes from ocean water, my friend. I got it flowin through the ground, donatin it’s salts to the earth. This shit is clean as a night elf’s moonwell. It’s purity yous can taste. I oughtta bottle it up and write that on tha label, yeah?”

Omru’s eyes widened further, “You can do that?”

“Kid, stick with me and you’ll see that ain’t much ole Paz can’t do.”

“Okay, how? I’m listening, I’m curious to learn.”

  Paz interlocked his fingers together, pushing his hands out until the bones made a light popping noise, “Alright, first one’s free, aha.” Grinning, he walked over to a small leather backpack, taking just a minute to open it and rummage about to eventually pull out a glowing golden scroll, “This here is a contract. They ain’t always so pretty, but I like ta get all fancy. You can’t read it, don’t ask, but I’ll give yous tha jist of it. I made peace witta Water Elemental over in Stranglethorn once upon a when. The Elements, you see, can grant folks boons. Make us all magickal an shit. The mo betta ya elemental friend is, the stronger you get an all that. But they always ask for somethin’ in turn. Some folks take it by force. We call them fat heads and punch’em in tha junk. Anyways, sometimes the elementals want somethin specific, sometimes it’s just a code to follow or a pledged oath. This contract was written up, enchanted and I got that there totem to really help me harness her watery goodness. Like, I could mend some minor flesh wounds wit just a little stream nearby or somethin’. But out here in the desert, I needed to pull out the totem to get a good source flowin. It won’t last forever, but trust me, that’s powerful magic to make that lil puddle. Speakin’ of powerful totems, iffens you ain’t intressed’ in shammin it up in the maelstrom, how bouts you offer me that thing around ya neck and we’ll call us square”

  At the mention of his own totem, Omru pinched the wooden figurine between two furry fingers, “Oh. You, uh, don’t have enough of your own?”

  Paz changed to a more sombering expression, “I can’t just eyeball a totem an know it’s history. I dunno where ya found this thing, but if that elemental is bound to it, that ain’t right. What is you doin for her? Nothin cause ya don’t speak tha lingo. She’s a prisoner, bud. Just like you was.”

  Om slipped the little strap of rawhide over his head, momentarily getting it caught on a large fuzzy ear. “I didn’t know that, sorry. Just.. found a magic item and put it on. Can’t blame a guy for his love of loot, right?” Sighing, he handed the necklace over. He hadn’t had the thing for too long, but twice now that elemental had saved his bacon.

  With no flash or incantation, Paz simply twirled the totem between his fingertips, summoning the earth elemental to his side. The rocky creature was large enough to almost fill the entire little nook, ducking it’s head and forcing the fox boy to take a few steps back. “Heya girl. You’re a good egg, okay? Ya diden hafta save this boy, but ya did. Want me to see yins free?”

  Omru watched as the elemental moved about slowly, as if fidgeting. He couldn’t hear a damn thing, but apparently Paz did.

“Is that so? Yo, Omen, did you find this necklace on somebody’s dead corpse?”

Om’s eyes widened, “What, no! And it’s Omru.”

“Chill, I’m just makin sure tha owner ain’t died. This lady right here belongs to someone named Keyi. Ring any bells?”

Om nodded once, “Yeah, I know a Keyi. She’s a bit of an odd bird.”

  “Good, take me to her when you’re back on ya feet, kay? We’ll get these two reunited.” Paz extended four little greeny wigglying fingers towards the Elemental, who in turn extended a few floating pebbles from what might be a limb? Hands were touched, for the briefest moment, before the elemental was taken back to her home plane.

  Omru just watched the whole scenario, fascinated. “Uh.. Yeah, I can think of a few spots she might be. We don’t exactly have permanent addresses, ya know?”

  Paz shoved his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, I heard that about yous all. Kindy like the Tauren that ways. Oh and you’ll get a kick outta this. Ole gal thought you -was- Keyi. Says all you Vulpera look the same to her. Plus she thought ya singin’ was perty. Cute, huh?”

  Omru smiled at that. It wasn’t the first time he had accidentally wooed someone through song, likely wouldn’t be the last. Heh. “Cute.”

--

[big4girl]

Bonfires and Bridges

Hello, all you lovely Fourevers out there! I tried my hand at some extreme crossover fanfic so don't judge it too hard, okay?

RotBTD Crossover Fanfic with Tangled the series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure characters as well.

****

Cassandra snapped the reins as she drove the caravan down the dirt path. Hiccup and Astrid on Toothless next to her, Merida riding Angus on her other side, Rapunzel and Jack chatted on the roof, and Eugene, Lance, and Hookfoot were inside doing who knows what.

It was an odd arrangement, no doubt about it, and Cassandra had been skeptical when Rapunzel invited all these extra people along on their excursion. But after getting to know them all a little better, Cassandra realized she actually liked the band of misfits they had become and all the people apart of it.

"Hey, Cassie!"

Cassandra frowned. Well, almost all of them.

"It's Cassandra," she snapped.

Jack grinned. "I know, it's called a nickname,"

"For your information, the last person who called me that ended up being a revenge seeking maniac." She replied, snapping the reins.

Rapunzel dropped her head down next to Jack's. "It's okay, Cass, Jack's just messing around,"

"Yeah," Hiccup said, pulling Toothless up next to the driver's seat. "You'll have to get used to it eventually,"

Cassandra grunted in response.

"Don't cha worry about it, lass. He annoys the livin day lights outta me, too," Merida added on Cassandra's other side.

"I agree with, Merida," Astrid said from behind Hiccup. "Jack's extremely annoying."

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed.

The group laughed and Cassandra cracked a smile, casting a glance up at the treeline.

The sun set a little below it, casting the sky in a mixture of orange and blue.

"All right, this should be a good spot to make camp," She stopped the horses, Maximus and Fidella complying happily. "Rapunzel, Merida, you're on firewood, Jack, Hiccup, water." She threw the boys a canteen.

"What? You realize I can make water right?" Jack asked.

"No, you can make ice. And I'm pretty sure nobody wants to have their tongues stuck to the canteen." Cassandra snapped.

Astrid laughed, making Cassandra smirk and Jack frown.

"Fine," he retorted, stalking off into the woods with Hiccup.

"Lance, Eugene, Hookfoot, fishing duty. Astrid and I will set up the rest."

****Rapunzel + Merida****

Rapunzel skipped a ways ahead of Merida who struggled to keep up with the princess.

"What's yer hurry?" Merida asked.

"No hurry!" Rapunzel replied. "Just enjoying the journey."

"We're just going ta get firewood. Not sure I would classify that as a 'journey',"

Merida sighed softly, staring at Rapunzel. She was everything a princess should be. Petite, graceful, beautiful; annoyingly so. Merida knew from her own experience that she could sing and dance and she a wonderful artist.

When she first met her, Merida was sure Rapunzel would only be interested in flowers and rainbows; what kind of person wore a pink dress and put flower in their hair?

“I should bring my paints and easel out here.” Rapunzel mused. "You'll remind me, won't you Pascal?” The chameleon merely croaked in response.

Merida frowned. That was another thing; she could speak to the reptile like she was talking to a person. Out of all the princesses Merida had the 'pleasure' to make acquaintance with, Rapunzel was certainly the most interesting.

Merida adjusted her bow on her back and fiddled with the belts of her quiver as they walked. "We're supposed to be getting firewood, ya know."

"Yeah, I know, but we've got plenty of time for that later." She stopped at an apple tree. "I wonder if we're low on apples."

Merida eyed the ripe fruits hanging in the tree. "Couldn't hurt. I could use a snack anyway."

Merida, clad in a pair of pants under a knee-length skirt and boots, started scaling the tree to retrieve the fruit.

Rapunzel, barefoot and in a long skirt, followed closely behind.

Merida looked down at her. "I didn't know ya could climb, too,"

Rapunzel smiled. "There's a lot you don't know about me,"

The two settled themselves on a sturdy branch and picked a couple of apples, biting into them.

"How are we going ta get these back along with the firewood?" Merida asked.

Rapunzel put a finger to her chin, humming in thought when her eyes settled on Merida's quiver.

She smiled. "Mind taking out your arrows?"

****Hiccup + Jack****

"I haven't been on a walk in the forest since I lost my leg," Hiccup said. "I didn't realize I missed it until now,"

Jack walked next to him, staff balanced on his shoulder and feet leaving a trail of frost in his wake like breadcrumbs. "I've never walked in the forest. Too calm for my taste."

Hiccup smiled at his friend. "I think you'd come to appreciate a little calm sometimes after jetting from place to place all the time,"

Jack shrugged. "I spent most of my first years as Jack Frost by myself. Now that I have some company, I try to spend all my time with them. Who knows when you all will stop believing in me."

Hiccup stopped abruptly. "Jack," He started. "We won't ever stop believing in you. You're our friend and we've known you since we were kids, we won't let you go that easily."

Jack smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know, but...what happens when you're gone?"

Hiccup put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Then our descendants will carry on our belief and you won't ever have to be alone again."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up Hiccup, but I'm sort of immortal and you can't guarantee what the future will hold." Jack replied.

Hiccup frowned then smiled. "Ah! The river."

Hiccup unscrewed the cap of the canteen and dipped it in the water.

Jack smirked, swinging his staff off his shoulder and tapping the surface of the water, freezing it.

"Jack!" Hiccup yelled making the frost spirit laugh. "Jack we need to get this water back to camp un-frozen!"

Jack just laughed again and winked at him. "Cassie said I couldn't make the water, she didn't say I couldn't do anything to it!"

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but he was grinning anyway. "You're a pain in the neck,"

"Only in your neck, Haddock. And sometimes Merida's."

It was Hiccup's turn to laugh this time. The mood switched 180° from what it was on the walk to the river.

****Eugene, Lance, & Hookfoot***

"Lance we're supposed to be fishing! Not swimming!" Euguene yelled to his friend as Lance waded into the water.

"That's what I'm doing! Don't you remember when we caught these things with our bare hands?" Lance replied.

"Of course I do, but now we have fishing pools to save ourselves a bad hair day."

Lance ignored Eugene and rolled up his sleeves, eyes searching the water for the perfect opportunity to make his move.

Hookfoot's jaw dropped as Lance pulled a fish from the water swiftly.

"Swift as a coursing river! With all the force of a great typhoon! With all the strength of a raging fire! Mysterious as the dark side of the moooooon!" Lance sang.

Eugene rolled his eyes. "Lance, I happen to know you are none of those things. Now get out of the water!"

****Astrid + Cassandra****

Cass and Astrid rolled up fallen tree trunks for the group to sit on and pulled the caravan, toothless, and the horses (who were tied to a nearby tree) in a circle.

"So, you're a viking," Cassandra said, dropping herself down onto a log.

"And you're a lady-in-waiting," Astrid replied. "What about me being a viking?"

"Well, I've just heard a lot of stuff about you guys and not a lot of it is exactly good."

Astrid frowned. "Berkians aren't exactly like other Vikings if you hadn't noticed."

"I know, I'm just curious about the life style. I always envied the way you guys lived. Sometimes I wondered if my parents were Vikings because of how much I enjoy similar things. Fighting, tough love, things like that."

"Well, I guess that is one thing." Astrid said. "We're not the most lovable bunch, but we get along with most, but wars have been started over silly things in past years. I like to think we've matured a bit since our dragon fighting days."

Cassandra was about to say something else when she was interrupted by Rapunzel's cheery cry of "We're back!"

"Hey, guys," Astrid said.

Merida and Rapunzel ambled out of the woods, arms full of wood, Merida's quiver full of apples, and Rapunzel's pockets filled with strawberries.

"Stop for some snacks?" Cassandra teased, eyeing the pocket fruit.

Rapunzel laughed. "The apples: yes, but the strawberries were a split second decision."

Merida nodded, dropping the wood and taking her apple from her mouth. "Should be appreciative. Ya have somethin' ta go with the fish now,"

"Jack froze the water!" Hiccup exclaimed as he ran out of the woods, covering the canteen so that Jack couldn't freeze it any further.

"Frost, if I wanted frozen water I wouldn't have sent you to the river!" Cassandra yelled, finger pointed at Jack's nose.

Jack laughed. "Sorry, Cassie -"

"No, you're not,"

"But I couldn't make the water so."

Cassandra threw her hands in the air. "I give up with this one."

"The triumphant returns!" Lance called, three fish hanging from each of his hands, Eugene and Hookfoot trailing behind him with upset looks on their faces.

"Dread Pirate Roberts here ruined our catch," Hookfoot complained.

"Yeah, turns out fishing with your bare hands scares the fish a bit," Eugene added, tossing down his pole.

"At least we have some fish," Astrid said. "And Rapunzel and Merida brought back some apples and strawberries."

"Ooh, that sounds good," Lance said, discarding the fish and reaching for a strawberry in Rapunzel's pocket until she turned away. "Hey!"

"Fish fingers!" Rapunzel said. "You have to go back to the river and wash them!"

****All****

Merida stoked the fire as she roasted the fish over it, Rapunzel set the fruits in a bowl, and the others sat quietly around the fire, listening to the sounds of the night.

Cassandra observed everyone as she lounged on a log.

Astrid and Hiccup cuddled up across from her, Lance and Hookfoot sat lazily next to her, Eugene kissed Rapunzel's forehead as she sat down next to him, Jack laid on top of a log on her other side, his eyes closed, and Merida stared into the fire, the ambers lighting up her blue eyes.

[bashfulmusician]

Here is the first chapter for a Jacksepticeye ego fanfic that @cillpiines and I will be writing together! We’re both incredibly excited to be making it, and we hope that you guys enjoy what we create!

In deciding to write a story together, we’ve chosen to try a different method of collaboration: we will be in a sort of Fic War (the original idea for this type of story was made by @autisticvoltronld, whose post I shared here) In this story, we will each have the opportunity to write and mold its events as we see fit - respecting the other’s developments, of course. The catch: we are each writing in a different genre.

I have chosen to write with an action/adventure type of style. Meanwhile, my friend will write the second chapter as a fluffy coffee shop au. Once she writes her part, I will proceed to write a third chapter filled with excitement and drama. She will follow this with another adorably cute section. Thus will be how our story is jointly written.

The result? An action-packed tale filled with intermittent periods of gentle story-telling.

As I mentioned, we are both incredibly excited to be making something like this together - especially to be trying something so adventurous as this! We hope that you enjoy what we create!

Chapter One: “Jackieboy Man”

"-and that led the scientists to believe that gravity is, indeed, a lie made by the government. And now for the weather. Jim?” John sighed and turned towards the window. Outside, a thick rainfall drenched the glass, the street lamps a mere orange blur through the waterfall. The thunderstorm had been continuous through the day - even now still raining at five pm.

“Hey, John! Wanna order a pizza tonight?” Marvin, John’s roommate, hollered from the kitchen. “I’d cook somethin’, but I don’t feel like it.” John couldn’t help but grin. Marvin was honest - sometimes too honest.

“Why don’t you just conjure some food, Harry Potter?” John snickered as Marvin scoffed. “That’s Mr. Potter to you! And you know I can’t conjure yet, I’m still just working with potions!” “Fine... But seriously, what do you want to eat?” “Hmm...pizza?”

“Sure,” John pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and punched in the number – memorized at this point in his college career. “Breaking news!” Before he could dial, the television caught his attention.

“A bank in the downtown area is currently being robbed. The suspect, AntiSeptic, has been holding the tellers hostage inside. The police are unable to enter the building due to the villain’s barricade across the doors and windows. We’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”

John paused, eyes frozen to the screen. “Hey, why don’t I just go pick something up?” Marvin leaned on the doorframe, blue ink scrawled across his hands and arms in hastily written notes. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s been raining all day and that storm’s still goin’.”

John was already wearing his coat by the time Marvin finished. “I won’t melt, a little water never hurt anyone. Besides, it’ll probably take them forever to get here through the storm.” His roommate nodded. “Alright…just be careful. I’m not payin’ your half of the rent when you die!” John laughed, “Ok, got it.”

John left the apartment with a small smile. As soon as the door shut, however, a determined look entered his eyes.

He dashed to the stairwell, not wanting to risk the front desk worker seeing him. He took the stairs two at a time, ripping off his jacket and sweatpants to reveal a red body suit. He snatched a blue cape and mask from under the first step and placed his leftover clothes in its place. His eyes glowed a brilliant blue as he floated a few feet in the air.

‘Let’s dance, Anti.’

“Nobody move, I mean it!” The man was entirely clothed in black, his green eyes venomous. A bank teller cautiously peered around the corner of her desk, “Sir? C..Can we at least talk it out?” “SHUT UP!!!” The woman yelped as green lightning shot towards her, just barely missing it as she ducked back.

“You aren’t talkin’ until I say! Now, I want someone to tell me the code to the safe ‘fore I find it out the hard way, got it?!” He threw another ball of energy at the floor nearby, the tiles exploding within green flames.

Just then, the ceiling crashed just beside the villain. “Sorry, didn’t mean to crash the party!” AntiSeptic snarled and narrowed his eyes. “Y’ weren’t invited, Jackieboy.” He spat out the hero’s name like a curse, spitting in his direction.

“Jackieboy Man, we’re saved!” The villain growled and threw a burst of energy at the hero, who merely stepped out of the way. “Come on, that was weak!” “I’ll show you WEAK-!” AntiSeptic shot upwards through the hole in the ceiling, a trail of green energy marking his ascent. Jackieboy laughed and followed him.

“Y’ got a lotta nerve showin’ up here – actin’ all tough and sh*t!” “Well you’ve got a lot of nerve to try and rob innocent people!” Green lightning shot from the villain’s hands aimed for Jackieboy’s head. The hero swept out of the way and shot his own blue energy at the other. Anti dodged the attack and met it with his own.

Jackieboy landed on the bank’s roof and grinned mockingly at the other. “Come on, Anti, is that all ya’ got?” The villain grit his teeth, flying towards the other with a fist raised. “Not even close, kid!” Jackaboy narrowly missed the blow and brought up his own fist. Anti grunted as it met his jaw.

He quickly recovered and his eyes became black with rage. “Oh, you idiot boy…” Green electricity danced around his feet and he hovered in the air. Jackaboy stepped back and summoned more blue energy into his fists. Too late – the villain threw lightning out towards the hero in a relentless onslaught.

Jackieboy ducked, twisted, and leapt to avoid the attack. One bolt grazed his shoulder and he hissed with pain, his red suit marred with a dark burn. He returned the onslaught with his own – blue lightning just barely missing the dodging villain.

Finally, the attack ended and both hero and villain were left panting and soaked on the rooftop.

“Y’ done yet, Jackaboy?” The hero laughed softly. “Not even close.” He mustered his strength and threw a blue streak at the villain, who yelped as it brushed his arm. He brought a hand up to clutch his arm and scowled at the hero, eyes black save for their acidic irises.

“This ain’t over, kid!” With a flash of viridescent lightning, the villain dashed away. Jackieboy watched him leave until he was certain that he was gone, and then glanced down at the crowd of police and newscast.

The people cheered as he landed in front of the building, easily punched through the still-blocked door, and smiled. “Jackieboy! Jackieboy!” News anchors approached him from all directions, wanting to be the first to interview the superhero. He chuckled and grabbed a nearby microphone.

“Jackieboy, what’s it like to defeat AntiSeptic again? Do you think he’ll be back?” “Will you go after him?” “What’s the situation like inside?” “How does it feel?” “Were you injured?”

The hero smiled and met the crowd with excited blue eyes. “While I’d love to answer all your questions, I’ll have to cut it short due to the weather. Anti is back at his hideout, no doubt nursing his ego.” The crowd laughed. “I’ll be alright, I’m not hurt too badly! I’ve definitely had worse injuries in my life. No one was hurt that I know of, and I’ll be sure to meet Anti the next time he tries to mess with my town!” The hero handed the microphone back to the news anchor and flew away, the cheers of the people following him.

An hour later, John knocked on the door to his apartment. Marvin flung the door open, eyes wide with worry. “John! Where the heck were you? I thought you were just going down the street to that one pizza place!”

John shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Marv. They were closed. I had to take the bus downtown. But hey, I brought your favorite!” He set the box on the kitchen table and opened it.

“Pineapple?” Marvin punched the other good-naturedly, not noticing the grimace on John’s face. “Thanks! Hey, we have some Coke in the fridge, I threw a can in there for ya’!” “Thanks.” John made his way to the fridge and took the soda.

“Hey, I wish I could hang out, but I think I’m gonna head to bed. I have a class early in the morning.” “Alright, see ya’ later!” Marvin grinned and handed him a plate of pizza, taking a slice for himself with his other hand.

John went to the bedroom, shut the door, and let the fake smile fade. He set the plate down on his end table and changed into a tank top and shorts. He sat on the bed and looked over the burn on his arm. ‘I’ve definitely had worse, but I might get it looked at anyway.’ He sighed again, wrapping the injury in a cloth bandage.

His phone was exploding with news coverage of the event, notifications appearing from every social media outlet that he had. John hesitated before clicking on the latest article, relief flooding him after he read the first few lines: “No fatalities and only minor injuries were present with some of the victims.” He set his phone down and got under the covers, falling asleep to the soft sound of the rain outside.

AN: Well, that’s the first chapter. I know that you guys will like cillpiines’ addition, she’s AWESOME at writing! :D