#between a man and a lil girl dressed like a full grown women I think only the man should be wearing that fuking bizarre dress

[aalt-ctrl-del]

republicans: "We must protect the children and ban the drags shows! The children are the world, they are being endangered by grown men in makeup and sparkles."

childrens pageant: 👀👀👀👀👀👀

ᶦᵐᵐᵃ ᵍᵘⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ʰᵒⁿᵉˢᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ˢˡᶦᶜᵉ. ᵏᶦᵈˢ ᵖᵃᵍᵉᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ˢᵏᶦⁿ ᶜʳᵃʷˡ

[andrina-the-amazingsupergenius]

When in Blackpool, the Las Vegas of England || Rowdy and Randy

Summary: Andrina gets the best idea for a joke she’s ever had. 

@n0ttinghamshad0w

ANDRINA   Andrina was in Blackpool, bitches!    How did she get here? She didn’t know. It was one of those Andy-spirals that started off as a joke, then turned into a dare, then turned into a promise, then turned into a swear. She’d just been closing up shoppe in Whosits and Whatsits, checking on their stash. She’d just put on some music– Highway to Hell by AC/DC. She just pretended to play air guitar, just fell into Rob’s arms, just made out with him a little on top of Attina’s desk, when the words road trip fell out of her lips.    Wouldn’t it be so funny? she’d said. And maybe Rob said something about there being a couple of buyers who might be interested in Cruella’s finest. And couldn’t they be there, and back again, before anyone knew it?    And no she wasn’t drunk, when she started the trip, coasting along in the Whosits van.     And she wasn’t drunk when they got to Blackpool either, after midnight, and found the downtown alive and throbbing, bleeding light like a wound.    And she wasn’t drunk when she had sex with Rob in the loo of an old arcade, after completely kicking his arse at Pacman, his hair in one of her hands, her raffle tickets in the other.    She was, actually, just polishing off a cocktail when they started playing Blackjack. She was, maybe, getting a little tipsy, and a little handsy, as she watched Rob count cards and get away with it.    By the time they left, it was 3 in the morning and they were a few hundred quid richer. Andrina’s fingers were caressing the nape of Rob’s neck and she was thinking about fucking him again.   That’s when the sweet voice of Freddie Mercury caught her pinball eyes. She turned her head to the sweet rock music of Don’t Stop Me Now, and out of nowhere, Andy started laughing.    “Hey, you know what would be so funny?” Andy said, sliding her hand down Rob’s spine. She sipped at the vanilla milkshake she’d just bought cheap outta a McDonalds, and her eyes glinted when she met Rob’s own. “If we got married here.”  

ROB   This was the closest he’d been to home in ‘bout two years now.   ‘Course they weren’t even that close, mind you. ‘Course Rob wasn’t supposed to be thinkin’ of Nottingham as home. ‘Course Rob was supposed to have left Swynlake soon as the Davis job was over, find Tuck and Martin and Jo once again.    Funny how plans change.   Here he was now, pockets full of money he’d won and he’d whispered in Andrina’s ear that maybe they should consider a career in gamblin’ instead — she’d make a mad good poker pro, if he had to guess. Briefly, he entertained travelin’ the world, goin’ to casinos in Monaco and Las Vegas, places glitzier and more glamorous than lil’ Blackpool — his head spinnin’ with possibilities, with thoughts of suave suits and sparkly dresses and then Andrina spoke.   He let out a laugh. That was the furthest thing from what he was thinkin’ right now really and so amused was he that he near scooped her up and planted a kiss right on her mouth.   “Imagine the two of us gettin’ married at all,” he said, leanin’ over to take a sip of her milkshake. And ‘cuz it was a dumb joke by Andrina, he went along with it, of course, ‘cuz that’s what the two of ‘em did. It was sorta like a game. Well it was really a game — sometimes against one another, sometimes on the same team. The only rule, really, was that they had fun. And Rob did like havin’ fun.    “Here’s how it’ll go,” he said with a grin. “I’ll knock the rings off a vacationin’ couples hand — a rich one, mind you, only the best for my betrothed. And you’ll sweet talk a dress from a shop clerk who’s sweet on you, not even a dress maybe just a veil or somethin’. And we’d have to get married by that bloke over there — “ Rob pointed at the Freddie Mercury impersonator. “‘Cuz it’s not real love unless it’s sung by Freddie, you know.” 

  ANDRINA She loved this game.    Andrina actually loved a lot of things. She once thought that wasn’t the case-- that she was sort of a heartless monster (lol) and the love gene had skipped her. But since she’d started stealing things, Andrina realized that her love gene was just different. Maybe she didn’t have one or two hobbies-- maybe she had a whole bucket-full, and that was okay. Maybe she didn’t want to go on dates or get a boyfriend and maybe she really was going to be Wine Aunt. But that wasn’t failure. She wasn’t heartless.   Andrina loved nights that ended in a completely different place than they began. She loved the chaos of her room, its pieces always spread out like she was a magpie with her nest in constant creation. She hated working the counter at Whosits, but she loved sorting through the boxes of donations. She loved playing dress-up; she loved sex in public places; she loved getting in the Andrina-Zone between the hours of midnight and 4 in the morning, where the world was quiet and it zeroed in to whatever weirdo project she was working on. Those hours were Andrina at her most exhilarated, creative, blissed out. She stumbled into bed exhausted and happy as if she’d had the best sex in her life, though Andrina would tell you it was always better than sex.   She didn’t understand the thrill her sisters got from crushing on this or that person or the dreams they had about husbands, wives, kids-- even empires. But she knew what it meant to love. She didn’t think she loved Rob, but she loved the type of life he gave her. She loved that he never pushed her into stupid boxes. She loved every night like this one.   It was between the hours of midnight and 4. The Andrina-Zone. Her favourite hours.    So maybe that’s what made that particular, stupid box appeal on that night. Because it wasn’t just a box, it was a story. Rob told it so well, Andrina’s heart was suddenly pounding, she wanted to know more.    “Ooooo, the height of romance-- why, I do declare, Mr. Gardner, if I won’t just marry you right on the spot.” Andrina affected her voice into the buttery accent of a Hollywood movie star. She cooed. “I want a rock as big as the moon, Mr. Gardner! Will you steal me the moon?” She batted her eyelashes at him.    She giggled but then her eyes flashed and she was Andrina again. “I dare you. Hey, whoever gets back to the chapel first wins a prize!” 

  ROB   The game was on.   Rob tugged Andrina’s hand to his lips, pressing a fresh milkshake sticky kiss to the back of her hand, and then dropped it, giving a two-fingered salute as he backed away.   “Prize to be determined by winner — starting now!”   And off he dashed.   Sometimes, if he really wanted to get thinkin’ about things, Rob realized he was turnin’ 30 this year, which never seemed like an age he’d even get to, really. He figured he’d be caught by then, figured that like many of the blokes he’d grown up with, he’d be lost to drugs or to the cops ‘cuz of somethin’ else. But he was lucky — he was lucky and hey, he dinnit know the makeup of his DNA, but he looked enough like everyone else to get by. And he was very good at what he did and so here he was, almost 30, older than he thought he’d ever turn and still just as wild as he was at 18.   Well, he was more careful now. Dinnit draw attention to himself. Dinnit get into fights.   Instead, he slipped into crowded casinos and bars and he looked for couples sloshed outta their minds. Rings were tricky little buggers. Try a wrong hand, with someone whose ring was just tight enough, and you were easily caught. Rob waited a lil by the bar, orderin’ a drink and keepin’ an eye out for easy marks.   For the bloke — he spotted an older fella, sittin’ with a girl who had to be at least half his age. On his left hand, a wedding band. Rob kept his eye trained on this fella, ‘cuz he knew at one point this man’d slip his ring into his pocket, feelin’ too guilty about flirting with the pretty young bird with the reminder of a wife at home.   This happened quicker than Rob anticipated, which dinnit make him feel at all bad, as he brushed past and slipped his hand in the man’s jacket pocket and secured the gold ring.    It was more varied with stealin’ a women’s ring. He could check the loo, see if anyone forget their ring as they washed their hands. He could hope that there was a gal who had a similar mindset as that old bloke. But really, the  best bet in a place like this was to find a bird who was too skinny, too jittery, wearing fancy clothes and with pristine skin — someone drunk enough to say yes to a dance and not notice if in grabbin’ her hand, Rob slipped off her ring.   He spotted a bird like that, and just his luck, it was someone at a Hen party — not the bride, but another gal and everyone at Hen parties, ‘specially Hen parties thrown by rich women, wanted to dance with fit scrappy blokes. The girl in question was blonde and had massive fake tits and plump fake lips and before Rob asked her to dance, he heard her talking loudly to her friends about sendin’ back her meals last night at dinner and how she had to fire her last chauffeur for takin’ time off to see his newborn baby.   So yeah, he dinnit feel bad as he snagged the large diamond off her ring finger. She was so distracted by the fact he was whisperin’ some dumb sexy thing into her ear that she barely noticed.    Rings secured, Rob bolted back out into the night, racing to the chapel as fast as he could.    He saw Andrina right across from him, ‘bout the same distance away, and then grit his teeth and ran the remaining distance.

  ANDRINA Andrina loved games, but she loved winning more. So as Rob pulled away, she was already laughing, her victory a bright spark in each eye. They hadn’t established any rules, which meant that Andrina could cheat if she wanted. And duh, she wanted. Cheating never cheapened a victory; it sweetened it, reminding Andrina that she was clever, and she loved being clever.    And without Rob around to curb the worst of her impulses, she’d give into them.    So Andrina didn’t bother to race off into the city, to find some shoppe with its lights still on. She knew how this worked. She’d seen movies and TV and stuff (wasn’t life just like movies and TV and stuff?) Andrina slurped at her milkshake and strided toward the very chapel they were supposed to meet at.   She walked right in and up to the desk. “Hey, do you guys do, like, bridal veils and dress rentals and stuff?” she asked the man working at the counter.   The man started at the desk, looking up from his phone. His eyes were bloodshot. Ooooooh he was high as fuck. “And by stuff, I also mean weed, you have any of that too?”   “Wh--”   “I’m kidding! Kind of. I am if you are,” Andrina flashed a smile and leaned over the desk, showing off her cleavage.    “We...are a wedding chapel,” the man stated very slowly. He licked his lips. “We do have uh, tuxes and dresses available with some of our packages, listed here in the brochure…”   “Here’s the thing,” Andrina said and she leaned in even closer. “I sort of have a bet with a friend. Can I like, just borrow it?”    “Uh.”   “I’ll give you the rest of my milkshake,” Andrina sang, giving it a shake. She tilted her head and grinned. “And I won’t tell your manager you groped me.”   The man’s jaw went slack.    Ten and a half minutes later, Andrina was outside, dressed in a cheap wedding dress, with a joint between her teeth for good measure. “I WIN!” she shouted toward Rob. “By all means, take your time! Maybe I’ll just marry my new friend, Earl!” 

  ROB   “Ah, fuck,” said Rob, but he smiled and sprinted the last bit of the way. Reachin’ into his pocket, he pulled out the ring, and as he reached Andrina, he more or less crash landed onto one knee, holdin’ out that big, obnoxious rock that he’d swiped.    “Andrina Genieve Triton,” said Rob, voice all serious, as he held out the ring. “Will you do me the honor of marryin’ me?”   This was a grand game — a grand joke, yeah? Imagine scrappy Robin Hunt from Nottingham ever getin’ married. ‘Course it would be somewhere like this busted wedding chapel in Blackpool, with rings he stole. When he’d thought of marriage in the past, it seemed like somethin’ impossible: Rob was not a man who wore stuffy suits in a proper church and said bullshit lines in front of a priest. That’s what most girls wanted — maybe not a church, but a country club. Maybe not a priest, but a speech from their fathers, a best man and all that bullshit.    Andrina dinnit though. Andrina had a bloody joint in her mouth now and the wedding dress she wore looked like a Halloween costume with its gaudy jewels and plunging neckline. She looked like the best goddamn thing he’d seen in his life.   “Well whaddya say?” said Rob, still on one knee. 

  ANDRINA: The ring was gorgeous. Also, really ugly. It was both these things at the same time, and Andrina’s eyes widened at the sight of it, before she burst into laughter.    Of all the ridiculous things that Andrina had ever done in her whole life-- this was the most ridiculous. A spontaneous trip to Blackpool! Gambling, sex in the bathroom, milkshakes, Earl, a costume wedding dress! And now she was looking at some kind of Kardashian mistake of a ring-- she had no idea if any of those stones were real, because they were the kind of thing that looked so shiny and over-the-top you had to second-guess, but also maybe it was real, and Rob held in his hand more money than any of them had ever had in their bank accounts combined (and that was saying something for Andrina, Daddy’s Little Princess).    And here he was, offering it to her.    And was he serious?   Suddenly, Andrina didn’t know. Suddenly, she was looking down at the only boy who had never asked her to be anything that she wasn’t, and he was wearing that smile of his-- one that looked like he was always hiding the best part of an inside joke.    She wanted to kiss that mouth. Andrina wondered if that meant she was in love with him. She wondered it, and nothing moved inside of her. No big firework moment--  but none of the cold, clammy fear either, that had always taken her by the neck and never let her go.    She could marry this person and she didn’t think it would change anything, besides the fact that she’d have this massive, ugly ring to wave in people’s faces. Also, she could call herself Mrs. Gardner in an affected posh accent, which was always fun.    Mrs. Andrina Gardner. Or Mrs. Andrina Hunt, or whatever.    “I think I dared you first, that’s what I say,” Andrina declared. She grinned. She yanked up Rob by his collar, took the cigar out of her mouth, and planted a kiss on his lips, dirty and greedy and still tasting a little bit like milkshake.    When it broke, she stuck the cigar in Rob’s mouth, took the ring, and slid it on her hand. She fanned it in front of her face. “I’ll do it if you’ll do it,” she said. And that was definitely a yes in Andrina-speak. 

  ROB   Hell, they’d come this far and Rob wasn’t about to back out now.    Did he want to get married?   He dinnit know. Getting married was somethin’ he’d just never thought about. When Andrina kissed him though, hard and fast and sticky, he had the quick little thought that if somethin’ ever happened — if he couldn’t kiss her anymore — he’d be missin’ something more than just her lips. Not to say he wanted her to be the only person he kissed from here on out (or vice verse), but just that if he couldn’t kiss her well, then —   Look, this was all some complicated stuff to be thinkin’ about when he was supposed to be havin’ the happiest day of his life, yeah?   He didn’t answer her directly. Cigar still in his mouth, he grabbed her and lifted her up bridal style and spun around a little, before marching right into the chapel.   “Oi!” he said to the greasy-lookin’ bloke at the counter. “We’re here to get married! Where do we do that at?”   Determined not to put Andrina down till the moment they were in front of whatever sorta makeshift aisle they had in this horrendous lookin’ building. The greasy bloke grabbed some forms and led them through a door, down to a room dressed up in pink gawdy hearts and flowers and floatin’ lil naked babies.   He plopped Andrina down then and extended his arm to her.   “Ready?” he asked. There was still a teasin’ look in his eye, of course, but it was coupled with just a bit of seriousness. ‘Cuz here they were, here he was with Andrina wearin’ some trashy rental gown and ring he’d nicked at a nightclub, lookin’ at him like he was a prize she just won at a carnival. He looked at her and he felt… well happy.    Ahem. He turned away, shouting at greasy fellow.   “Can we get a wedding march here? Or something dancey? I wanna do this proper, mate. Only the best for the love of my life.”   

ANDRINA: Rob lifted her up and Andrina squealed, instantly kicking her feet as if she was trying to escape. Rob’s grip was firm though. He had her locked in his arms. Locked down, some might say-- hardy har har, marriage is an oppressive institution that people still willingly entered despite a shitton of sexist comments and attitudes!!!!!!!    But Andrina could escape if she wanted. Elbow Rob in the face and give the bugger a nosebleed and call the whole thing off. She’d even laugh it off and make it impossible for Rob to get mad at her. She knew how to play her cuteness as a shield like that.   But she didn’t want to escape.    She kind of wanted to get married. Why not? It wasn’t permanent. No matter what anyone said, marriage was a checkbox, and Andrina could check it off tonight, and erase it tomorrow.    But she wanted to say, at least once, she’d been married. In Blackpool. On a whim. To the love of her life-- or maybe not-- but certainly to a lad she liked more than she’d ever liked any boy. So she struggled only to make this more fun, and if she was playing a part, she was playing damsel, for once. God knows she’d never play that part again.    And then it was time, and she clicked down onto her boot heels and flipped her hair. She pretended to sniff snootily and tugged down at her sweater as though she was adjusting some kind of fancy bodice. Then she weaved her arm through Rob’s and waited for the music.    The wedding march sounded and Andrina turned to Rob with her Serious (™) face on.    “Race you down the aisle,” she said, Seriously.   And then she darted down the aisle, yelping as she felt the veil stuck in her hair give way a little. She reached up to secure it, and nearly tripped over the cheap dress. Rob caught her, and then they were laughing again, spinning the rest of the way, to the intolling organs and a bored looking for-hire officiant at the other end.    When they arrived, she was out of breath, but grinning. She flashed her ring at the officiant. “Pretty, innit?”   “Beautiful,” deadpanned the very bored bloke. She wondered if this place paid more than McDonalds or Starbucks. Hmm, back-up options for a career… “Ahem. We are gathered here today--”   “Wait! Rob, play my dad for a second. You gotta give me away.” She said and elbowed him in the side. 

  ROB   “Right, o’course,” said Rob without a moment’s hesitation. He darted back down to the end of the aisle. The rent-a-preacher stared at the both of them. Rob extended his arm out to Andrina and did his very best JEFF Triton impression.   “You look beautiful, darling,” he said, making his voice deeper which wasn’t necessarily how JEFF sounded, but it sounded vaguely what Rob imagined fathers to sound like. “I’m so happy that you’ve found someone for you.”   He didn’t know what fathers said to daughters on their wedding days, but he imagined it went something like that.   Puffing out his chest, he stomped down the aisle as the music played again. The bored pastor, preacher, random official person sighed.   “Are you ready now?” he asked.   Rob saluted, still pretending to be JEFF, and then took his place as Rob. He clasped his hands together like a groom in a movie, even though he was wearing a Dead Kennedys t-shirt and some old worn jeans, he pretended he was in some fancy tuxedo.    “Ahem. So, like I said we are gathered here today to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony...did you wanna do your own vows or just do the ‘for better or worse’ bit?”   “Nah I can do my own,” said Rob. He wasn’t about to say some church bullshit. He cleared his throat as the pastor bloke man person went about all the other    “Andrina,” said Rob, clearing his throat. “You’re absolutely batshit and I say that as someone who’s too hard to handle for literally every person in the world I've met before. You’re sexy and fun, but you’re also my partner in crime.” A smirk here, ‘cuz that was literal eyooo.    “And you know, “ Rob continued, a little more sincere now if you knew what to listen for, but you’d have to really know what to listen for in Rob’s voice. “I don’t think there’s been many girls in my life I’ve wanted to never stop kissin’ but I never wanna stop kissin’ you. I promise I’ll always be down to do something as wild as gettin’ married in this chapel and I promise we’ll never be bored. Or maybe we will be, but we’ll find somethin’. I love you — “    It slipped out and he couldn’t stop now, so he just grinned as he talked hopin’ she’d also find it like a joke (or hopin’, maybe that she didn’t).    “And I’d steal a million pounds for you and you know it, babe.”    “Lovely,” said the pastor, then turning to Andrina.   

ANDRINA: It was a joke as they waltzed down the aisle the second time, Andrina taking long, serious strides, trying to remain smooth-faced.   It was a joke as Robbie jumped to the front, smoothed a hand down his front, clasped his hands together.   It was a joke as Andrina climbed up to meet him, lifting her chin before sticking out a tongue for a split second before the officiant finished his cliche, scripted speech.   It was a joke as Robbie started his vows.   But it wasn’t a joke for long.   Andrina couldn’t trace where the slippage happened. But Rob’s smirk faded at some point and suddenly she was noticing the color of his eyes, which she’d never noticed before. She was not the type to note shit like that. That was for Tiny and Dell, even Lana to a point. Andrina only cared about how smart a boy was. If she was in the mood, she’d pick a stupid lad to get her off, finding the most embarrassing, neanderthal dirty talk a strange turn on-- like watching shitty porn on purpose. Other times, she picked someone a little wittier, who could keep up with her jabs-- good not just for the fuck, but for the foreplay.   Rob was obviously the latter. She loved his mouth, kissed it plenty of times, felt it on her neck, her breasts, between her legs. She liked when he talked and when he didn’t-- when he chuckled, when he smirked, when he sucked on a lolly she nicked for him from the market.    But now she was looking in his eyes and her stomach fluttered. Butterflies, for the first time, here on her wedding day.   She could blame the wedding for them. Blame her veil and the fake stained glass behind Rob and the big rock on her finger. It was all just an illusion. She didn’t really feel… she didn’t actually…   But maybe she did.   And suddenly there was a before and an after. There was a split in Andrina’s roads. She saw it clearly, her life behind her-- a life of seven sisters, never enough space, and always drama she was obligated to participate in. She’d leave Blackpool and return to it. The idea crushed her. She was suffocating right here, right now, which is usually how she felt when a boy, any boy, looked her dead in the eye like this and told her that they liked her-- except Rob was doing that right now and all she wanted to do was fling her arms around his neck and beg him to steal her away next.    Don’t make her go back to that fucking town, to all those sisters, to her shitty apartment and the dinners she had to show up to like reporting for the army, to her dead-end job, to Attina’s depression. Please, dear god, no.    Her marriage was a getaway car. Rob was driving. Andrina was calling shotgun and hopping the fuck in.    “I think vows are overrated,” she said. “But I promise that you are the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.” And she looked to the officiant. “Okay, say the thing.”   “Oh-- that’s all--?”   “Yeah. Chop chop buddy!” Andrina said with a hand wave. “This is the happiest day of my life, helloooooo!”    “Er--right. I now pronounce you--”   Andrina flung her arms around Rob’s neck and kissed him before he could finish. 

  ROB   Rob kissed Andrina back, picking her up a little and swingin’ her around. And ‘cuz why do this if he didn’t do this the right way, he picked up Andrina’s legs and carried her in his arms, like they were somethin’ out of a movie or somethin’.   Ha. Rob Hunt from Nottingham Orphanage never thought he’d be worthy of a movie. Not that this shitty chapel and these stolen rings and this rent-a-pastor were worthy of a movie. They were all shams, hacks, more reflective of Rob, really. But Andrina — Andrina was a real thing, better than any dumb movie endin’ because she had a wicked smile and sometimes in the morning her breath smelled and sometimes in the night she kicked, but she was smart and she never stopped, ever, and the mask Rob wore always somehow disppeared with her.    Also she was sexy as fuck.   He spun Andrina around a little, givin’ a bit of a woop, the gave her a proper snog. It was sticky and messy, the sort kiss that horny teenagers in the back of a car kissed. And what of it? He couldn’t wait to go back to the van and shag his wife.   “Hey, uh, sorry but you’ve got to sign these forms and stuff,” said the rent-a-preacher, holding up some papers. “It’s real quick, I promise. Sorry shoulda done it before but — “ “Yeah,  yeah, just bring it here,” said Rob, dropping Andrina down and grabbing the pen to quickly sign because, okay, the primary thing on his mind right now was sex.

  ANDRINA: Andrina was also thinking about a car-shag-- a back-of-a-van shag, actually, was more accurate. Her thighs were already trembling, desire as hot as the rest of her blood. If she stepped back from herself, she’d maybe realize it was the adrenaline from what might have been some kind of mental breakdown or dissociative episode. Because, her! Andrina! A wife!   Honesty, this was her most brilliant joke yet. Wait until she told her sisters.    (This thought instantly led to a short-circuit, and the Nyan Cat Video played on repeat.)   First though, right. Paperwork. This was another chance for Andrina to rewind this whole insane episode and decide she wasn’t going to be a wife after all. But Rob grabbed for the pen without hesitating, and fuck if she was going to prove to be a coward in the last ten seconds of the biggest Andrina-prank ever concocted.    Plus, she got bragging rights, she supposed, being the first sister to ever marry.    That was kind of a fucked up thing to think.    But it’s true, went the little voice in her head. As Andrina signed her name with a flourish, something very pleased inside her stretched itself out and started purring. A smile slid across her face. No one thought it’d be you, Andrina. Yeah, maybe this is a mental breakdown. Or maybe you finally found out who you’re supposed to be.   “Should I take your name?” Andrina said as she straightened up. She wiggled her veil off so she could plop it on Rob’s head instead, stepping forward to adjust it carefully. “Andrina Gardner. But that isn’t even your real name right? Well, that’s kind of hot. A fake-new last name. Or maybe you can take my last name-- it can be your new fake name. Or like, fake-real name. Rob Triton.” Her eyes moved from the veil down to his own. She smiled. It was her softest smile of the whole night. “What do you think?”   ROB   Rob had no attachment to his name. He slipped on and off his name like it was a scarf of some sort. Sometimes he forgot Robert Gardner wasn’t a real person; sometimes he forgot Robin Hunt was one. Sometimes, he forgot that once he went by Oliver and also that was his legal middle name.   “Well, you can’t marry Robert Gardner ‘cuz he ennit real,” said Rob, cheerfully, tossing the veil over his shoulder. The rent-a-pastor looked massively confused, but Rob paid him no mind. It’s not like this bloke was gonna do a deep investigation into Robert Gardner. That name was so common, Rob had chosen it for a reason.    Sometimes Robert Gardner felt more real to him than Robin Hunt. Robin Hunt was a name chosen by a system, a name written on paperwork and run through computers. A name he’d shed because the baggage of being Robin Hunt was too heavy for him to carry.    A name he sometimes felt guilty about leaving behind.   But he needed to pick up new ones. He had to keep evolving. Stay still and he’d die.   He looked at Andrina now, his mouth cocking up into a smile.    “But I can marry Andrina Triton. I’ve never had a real name of my own, so I might as well take yours, yeah? I don’t need to be Robert or Robin. Just Rob. Time to reinvent myself — “   He took the paper and signed Rob Triton  with a flourish.   “There we go — who’d thought you’d make a new, honest man outta me, eh?” 

  ANDRINA Andrina stared down at Rob Triton and felt something. That something didn’t have any name that she knew. It tickled, and if she thought about it too much, she suspected it might feel a little bit like heartburn.    Here’s what she did know: that something made her want to take this piece of paper with Rob Triton written on it, tear it up into pieces, shove it into her mouth, and eat it.    That’s how much she loved seeing it written out like that, the idea of not belonging to Rob at all-- but him belonging to her.   Instead of giving into her weirdo, paper-cannibalistic desire, she swept up the paper, folded it neatly and then reached under her dress, hiking the whole thing up. She hadn’t taken off her jeans, see. So she could just slip the paper in the back pocket. She let the dress back down and then slipped her arm through Rob’s own.    “Okay Mr. Triton. I think we need to consummate our marriage,” she winked at him.    The officiant grimaced.    “Chill out, we won’t do it here,” Andrina said and giggled. “We have a very on-brand sex van. Let’s make the most of it. Maestro, play the wedding march!”   “We don’t really do that on the way down the aisle…”   “Nevermind!” Andrina exclaimed and she tugged Rob down anyway-- and together they skipped their way back out into the early hours of a Blackpool morning.

[starisartblog]

The Light of the Storm: A Miss Fortune x Lux Fanfic

I don’t have an AO3 account so here’s a story I’ve been on and off writing about how Lux and Miss Fortune met and fell in love. I generally tried to stay lore compliant??? but there’s also a lot of creative liberty largely due to the fact that I roleplayed Miss Fortune for about 2 years. Basically don’t @ me about what’s canon and what’s not. This will be multichapter but idk how long it will be.

Chapter One: Unfamiliar Territory and a Pirate’s Honor

The first signs of land on the horizon brought much relief to the deckhands aboard The Lightforger. While surrounded by a vast empty sea, one would think that they were suspended in time, but in reality the voyage had only lasted a few weeks. The expertise of their charters and navigators were the only thing that stood between them and mindlessly drudging across the sea to their destination.

Luxanna Crownguard shuts the cover of an old tome at the call of sighted land. She, like many others, suffered with consequential boredom that came with long voyages and this had possibly been her longest trip to date. Despite biding some of her time with studies of old tomes and sparring with Kahina, she felt trapped. It had also reminded her of the seclusion imposed by her family in her younger years. Pushing that rather sour memory back, she tucks the tome under her arm and skips up the stairs to the main deck where several of her comrades look on curiously.

Arches of land slowly reveal themselves from the horizon, their bases shrouded in mist from water falling from great heights. Soon a landmass is in full view, the vague shapes of vessels perch themselves on the cliff sides while numerous banners flap freely in the wind. Lux had only heard stories of this place from older superiors and veterans. An anarchical land that would make anyone in the royal court of Demacia faint.

This was the city known as Bilgewater.

According to some of the stories she heard, Bilgewater hadn’t always been this way. A long time ago several ships had accidentally crashed into the Serpent Isles largely due to the fact that it had been apparently uncharted. After a minor clash with the natives of the Isles, the foreigners agreed to claim a small piece of land for the building of lighthouses to avoid further casualties. It served as a convenient rest stop at first but then expanded to a convenient trade port to cut down travel time between countries.

For a while it had been very prosperous, but soon the mysterious Black Mist had strengthened and attacked the port city frequently. Deciding that the resources expended to maintain its safety against the seemingly indomitable threat were a waste, many abandoned the port town. Those who remained consistently fought off the Black Mist and claimed Bilgewater for its own. Unfortunately the lack of a stable government turned Bilgewater into a lawless land of brigands and pirates.

Knowing full well of their relationships, The Lightforger had been stripped of its Demacian flag along with any symbol of its origin and dressed as a common tradeship. Those aboard had been dressed accordingly to keep up the charade. Lux figures that a Demacian vessel landing in Bilgewater was probably the equivalent of painting a large target on their back. On top of that, diverting attention from themselves was a crucial part of this mission.

The vessel had finally passed through the first arch of Bilgewater by nightfall. The clash of cold water from above and the warm night envelops The Lightforger with mist, making for almost an ethereal passing into the city. Peering from her cabin window, Lux gathers her things while determined to sneak glances of newfound territory.

Needless to say, she was completely awestruck.

Oil lit lamps decorate every odd end of the city, giving it a warm glow in contrast to the night. Scaffolds of wooden walkways and bridges connect the separated pieces of land giving Bilgewater’s heart a completely labyrinthian look. Vessels of old had been fused with old stone architecture to create taverns, shops and living spaces. She recognizes old Noxian warships, Freldjordian longboats, Shuriman vessels and even old Demacian galleons that had been repurposed as such.

Carved in wood and stone along many cliffsides and buildings had been a myriad of sea creatures, decorated with old bones and fangs. Lux notices two recurring creatures. One a frog-like monster with endless rows of teeth and a fanged creature with seemingly endless tentacles stretching from all parts of it body. Had it been the visages of their gods? She finds the prospect simply fascinating…

Clearly distracted, the girl would jump at the feeling of cold metal at the back of her neck. With a yelp, she turns around to the freckled and grinning face of her companion.

“Only you would get excited over a pirate town, Lux.” Kahina waves the hilt of her sword in a teasing manner. Lux waves a hand dismissively at her, a slight tint of red to her cheeks betrays any stoic stature she tries to play off.

“This is our first time visiting Bilgewater. I couldn’t help myself.” The blonde retorts. “You must admit the architecture is impressive and unique! The description from any book I’ve read simply doesn’t do this place any justice.”

“Sure, sure.” Kahina yawns finally sheathing her sword. “Just don’t let it get to your head. Remember that we’re still walking into a den of wolves. They’re more likely to shove a blade in your stomach if it meant more gold in their pockets.”

Lux frowns. “Deception lies in many forms, but it’s all still deception.”

The Lightforger finally settles in an available dock, occupied by a small crowd of men and women idling around the deck space. With their belongings strapped to their backs and sides, several of the Radiant Ones stand ready on the main deck. Kahina nudges Lux once more, putting a hand on her shoulder and whispering into her ear.

“I just heard that apparently the reason we’re here is that someone owes Aharon a favor.”

“I thought you said people here are more likely to doublecross you.” Lux whispers back. “An old drinking buddy perhaps?”

“Something of the sort.”

A voice comes from behind the two. Aharon lowers his hood and motions them off the deck. “I’m taking a small group to meet up with our primary collaborator--and by small I mean just us three. The rest will assume their stations with their help.” He then motions to the small group that had come to greet them.

An older man steps forward, his cane thudding against the dock with every step. He studies the three for a moment, though once settling his gaze on Aharon he simply smiles.

“Trust ya had smooth sailin’ lad?” The old man nudges Aharon with his cane.

“Uneventful.” Aharon brushes his robe. “I was looking forward to stepping off the ship the moment I set foot on it.”

He and I share that sentiment… Lux thinks to herself.

“Well we can hold business talk fer th’ mornin’ if yer too tired. Sure th’ Captain won’t mind terribly. We can accomodate yer lil’ posse easy--”

“Time is of the essence, Rafen.” Aharon states plainly. “If nothing else I want to pass on our recent findings…” His serious tone doesn’t falter in the slightest despite how casual the other is. The old man called Rafen laughs and shrugs.

“Aye aye aye. Good to know I have the right man. Captain told me you were a no-nonsense Demacian.” Aharon finally lets himself smile and adjusts his glasses.

“We have a reputation to uphold as no-nonsense Demacians.”

“As we be holdin’ the reputation of no-good scoundrels.” Rafen raps his cane against the floor several times and those with him stand to attention. “Alright help ‘em unload and such. An’ be careful with their stuff will ya? I’m sure most of what they own be more valuable than yer own lives.” The old man turns back to them.

“Captain’s in the workshop tonight. Follow close an’ keep yer blades closer.”

Despite the winding and confusing passages, Rafen navigates the small group with ease. He had grown with this city and thus knows of every street and turn. Lux finds it all impressive, but can’t help but wonder about something else. Men and women lurk in the alleyways as we pass, but seem to slink further in as Rafen passes. Had it been from fear? Rafen certainly didn’t look like a man that Aharon would associate himself with. Not to mention that the old man spoke of a Captain. His Captain. There had been someone that even he answered to? It was quite a mystery.

The workshop Rafen had spoken of sits at the base of a spire, hollowed out many years ago and an old ship had been attached to the side with a sign reading “FORTUNE’S FAVOR” hanging at the front. A small twisting flight of stairs brings them upwards and they are soon greeted by a gentle orange glow, the hissing of steam and the ringing of metal.

The room itself is a humble space to fit a forge among other smithing tools and stations. Pinned along the walls are various swords, daggers and firearms created with a style reminiscent of Bilgewater’s aesthetic. A lone person sits in the middle striking a slab of glowing metal against an anvil. They’re clothed head to toe with protective gear only further adding to the mystery of Aharon’s client.

Rafen makes sure the other is aware of his presence, then walks over to exchange a few words rendered unintelligible by the roar of the forge. Their work is put at a halt, dunking the glowing metal into a nearby container of water and creating a massive cloud of steam. As the steam dissipates, the person seemed to have removed their gear.

Hiding beneath the mask is the face of a dark skinned woman with fire red hair strung up into a ponytail. The woman rises from her seat to reveal a well built frame, defined with muscle and decorated with old scars. Colorful tattoos cover every inch of her body depicting sea creatures, ships and green tentacles that encroach from her back. Slick with sweat, the forge’s light makes the woman look like a glistening goddess and her eyes are a cool blue to balance such a fiery radiance. The woman glances over her three new guests and once it settles on Lux, the blonde instinctively holds in a breath.

“Captain Fortune.” Aharon steps forward to extend a hand. Lux lets out a quiet exhale as words were finally exchanged. “It’s been a while.”

The woman named Fortune steps forward as well, accepting his hand with a strong shake. Aharon even winces at the forcefulness of her grip and she can’t help but grin. “Aye. Was wonderin’ when I was gonna see yer mug again, Aharon Dawnscribe.” The man puts his hand to his chest and gestures to the other two. “I’d like for you to meet two of my companions--”

“Kahina Radiabourne.” Kahina gives a respectful salute.

Fortune’s gaze was once again on Lux. Realizing that the Captain was looking for a name, she flinches. Despite such a playful demeanor, the woman gives off a commanding presence that forces Lux to look to the ground.

“L-Luxanna Crowng-guard, ma’am.” Lux squeaks out, red hot with embarrassment. Gods above she could feel Kahina’s smile behind her.

“A blueblood? Interestin’.” Fortune cants her head to the side, tilting her chin up with a single finger. “Ah come now, level eyes with me lass. No need to cast down such a bright an’ pretty face..”

Gods above! Gods above! My heart is going to burst…! Lux cries in her mind.

“Captain.” Aharon clears his throat. “If you're quite done, then we'll get on with business. I've already expressed to Rafen the urgency--”

“Aye aye aye.” She winks to Lux and pulls her hand away. “But not here. Voices carry an’ snoopin’ ears are all too willin’ to listen.”

They're led to the other side of the forge through a door and presumably into the ship attached at the side. The noises above them are prominent, yet muffled and Lux concludes them to be just above a lively bar. Given the mass of crates and items compacted in the room and the noise above, they would be free to discuss anything without being overheard. Rafen guards the door they just entered through while Fortune says something to another man who promptly leaves the storage area. Two men return with small bowls of stew, several small loaves of bread and drinks.

“It’s a seafood stew. Bilgewater classic.” Fortune explains while being given her own share and promptly dipping her loaf into the bowl. “Fish is our specialty, but we can’t grow anythin’ else worthwhile here. So we really do benefit by those still willin’ to trade.” As Lux samples the stew, she realizes what the woman means. Shuriman spices season the broth and accompanying the fish are hardy potatoes and carrots from Noxus. Finally the loaf of bread served with the stew is all too familiar: it was made from Demacian wheat.

“Yer wheat is the absolute best for soft bread like this.” The Captain smiles and chews on broth-soaked bread, speaking again after swallowing. “What’s this all about then? Must be pretty damn urgent for ya to see me in person.”

“If I may be blunt.” Aharon appears a tad unnerved once Fortune’s gaze is upon him. “We suspect that Bilgewater is at risk of total Noxian occupation.”

Her playful air vanishes just by her posture straightening and her brows narrowing. For now her food is set to the side.

“Surely ya didn't cross the seas to tell me somethin’ I already knew.”

“Of course not. I have intel confirming some...concerning circumstances towards our claim. Given that you're a rather adamant advocate against Noxian expansion, you're of the few I can trust with this information.” As if to take off some unforeseen force of stress, he redirects his attention. “Miss Crownguard, if you would.”

The moment she feels the Captain’s gaze again, she hesitates. Lux has encountered many a general and sergeant, but never has a simple gaze made her feel completely disarmed. Captain Fortune was well worthy of her title.

“Let's hear what you have to say, Crownguard.”

“Uhm. I-I have done a fair share of espionage within Noxian borders.” Her heart feels like it's creeping up her throat again. “A recent assignment has had me follow a trend of trade containing armor and weaponry being sent from Noxus to the occupied city of Bel’zhun. We thought it to be standard upkeep for the soldiers to retain their control in Shurima. We’ve then noticed a large fraction of such resources travel to the east before being sent from the port city of Mudtown.”

“Aye. A good ship gets you from Mudtown to Bilgewater in a week’s time.” Fortune seems quick to piece it together.

“Then you fully understand the severity of the situation.” Aharon takes back control of the conversation. “It's only a matter of time before shipping over mere swords becomes sending a fleet of soldiers to your coasts.”

“They be hard pressed to take over the entire island. The Kraken Priestess an’ her god wouldn’t take that lyin’ down either.”

“You've heard the horrors of the Noxian invasion of Ionia.” Aharon says bluntly. “They stripped acres of magic from their lands. I wouldn’t put it past them to employ similar tactics here if it meant killing a supposed god.”

It goes without saying that occupying the island would also inch Noxian territory closer to Demacia for an effective pincer. In short, both nations are properly threatened by this.

“Yer stretchin’ this favor I owe ya real thin.” Fortune seems frustrated, taking another bite of bread and a spoonful of stew.

“I don't intend to waste a pirate’s honor on something frivolous. Brash as you may be, you're a reliable ally. I figure preventing such an invasion while this city rebuilds to be enough incentive to having your full cooperation.” There's a moment of painful silence, then Fortune begins to laugh and the tension in the room eases up a bit.

“Bloody seven hells! Can't really argue against that can I?” She waves a hand dismissively and downs the rest of her stew. “Fine. Ya have my cooperation, but we'll continue this tomorrow. A sea voyage takes a lot out of ya when ya ain't used to it.” She rises from her seat, holding her drink in her hand.

“Hold on Fortune.” Kahina stops the woman. “I have one question for you.”

“That's Captain Fortune.”

“Right. Captain Fortune, what’s your connection to Aharon? I've never even heard of you until today.” Fortune has to think on it for a moment. Had she forgotten as well?

“A few years ago Aharon here let me in Demacian borders to catch a runaway bounty. I mentioned owin’ ‘im fer it, that's all. What? Did ya think I was a--”

“Thank you for your hospitalities, Captain Fortune. I'm sure we'll all make ourselves quite at home.” Aharon was utterly embarrassed, squeezing past the guard to the stairs. Lux can’t help but chuckle at it all. She couldn't really imagine him being with someone like her anyway….

Not that there was anything wrong with the Captain! Lux was sure she was a wonderful woman...!

...Gods why was she arguing with herself over this?

“...He doesn’t even know where to… Eh. Whatever. I’ve a few things to take care of,” Fortune takes one step up the stairs with the guard standing to the side. “I’m leavin’ the rest to you Rafen.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” The old man gives a respective nod before she disappears up the steps. “I left Yale ova there t’accommodate th’ rest o’ yer lil’ group. Long as yer here, ya have full protection o’th Syrens. Courtesy o’th Captain of course. I’ll be sure t’find Aharon an’ let ‘im know.”

“Thank you, Rafen.” Lux bows to him, with Kahina following suit.

“Ahh it’s no problem. I reckon we’re all friends now, aye?” The old man gives the two a crooked grin before he and Yale leads them to their rooms.

The rooms themselves were quaint and surprisingly well kept. Despite being just above the ground floor, the noise from below was as muffled as the storeroom. Lux and Kahina set down their belongings but don’t bother to do much after that. Exhaustion slowly creeps up on them and they crawl into their beds.

“Hrm.” Kahina stares at the ceiling. “Think we can really trust this Captain?”

“If Aharon trusts her, then I see no reason to be wary.” She answers honestly, expecting Kahina to be wary like this. “Especially since she's against Noxus’s regime. That has to count for something doesn't it?” Kahina merely shrugs.

“She could turn sides real easy. Remember what I said?” Lux gives the other woman a stern look who sighs in response.  “Well… I guess at least just play it safe.”

“I know.”

A brief silence.

“Even so...that Captain is drop dead gorgeous isn't she?”

“Kahina!”

“Don't play dumb. You were completely distracted once she took of that smithing mask!”

Lux bites her lower lip. Damn her.

“Goodnight. Maybe she'll show up in your dreams.” Kahina grins triumphantly and pulls the blanket over her.

Lux gives a defeated huff and throws the blankets over her own head. The voyage had indeed taken more out of her than expected. It wasn’t long until she drifts off to sleep...