#i think its funny that food service jobs are so used to people quitting so fast that the application and interview process is streamlined

[shadyhouse]

applied to chipotle and i have an interview tomorrow !

[trigunsbbygirl]

If you’re open for requests could I get a part 2 to Nai being isekaid onto Earth? Maybe when he starts to adapt and get used to the concept? Thank you and feel free to ignore if your requests are closed!

I've seen so many drawings of Knives working fast food on twt and its so fucking funny I love it so much. he would evaporate if he worked in my city during tourist season. but anyways, always down to talk about reverse isekai. hope you enjoy it!!

•it doesn't take long for Knives to get used to how things work on Earth. in fact, he finds a few similarities on Earth and Gunsmoke: you go to school, graduate, get a job, pay bills, buy groceries and so on.

•it's the way the corporate world, government and social media works that he has a bit of a harder time understanding? Knives gets it, he understands the concept and how greed consumes but he's still baffled by it all.

•I won't get into much politics or the saddening things that are happening around the world, but every once in a while, when watching the news, Knives will turn to you and just say 'I am considering returning to my old ways.' and you just hum in agreement.

•he also has a hard time adjusting to being around so many people almost all the time now. even though he stays inside your home most of the time he can still hear people talking, cars driving by and airplanes. it takes him a while to get used to all the noise.

•Knives only really goes shopping with you out of curiosity. he wants to see all the things that are on Earth even if he says he doesn't care. (overtime he starts going with you to make sure you're safe and that he can protect you.)

•I think he'd quite like farmers markets though. it may be busy but he can push through it for the fresh food.

•this man has zero online presence. the only account he would ever have is a youtube account if you and Vash (mainly Vash) managed to convince him to make one to post his music. other than that, he refuses to make accounts for Twitter or Instagram. he sees no point in it.

•Knives doesn't use a diary, but he does write what he did that day on the calendar app. his notes are very blunt too, 'went to zoo. interesting animals.' 'went grocery shopping. boring.' 'celebrated their birthday.. was fun.'

•he also doesn't text much and when he does the messages are short and straight to the point. "what do you want for dinner?" "when are you coming back home?" "we are out of x, pick some up on your way home." and he leaves you on read a lot too.

•also uses proper punctuation and dots the ends of his sentences. he rarely uses abbreviations and slang. the first time Knives used lol you acted like it was the biggest thing ever and he just replied 'stop freaking out.' then promptly left you on read.

•now let's say Knives somehow gets an ID, ssn and all that stuff. like the universe said go help pay bills and gifted him those stuff or smth.

•I've been seeing Twitter talk about Knives working at McDonald's in a modern au and yeah that's funny, but this is a reverse isekai and Knives is still dealing with his kill all humans mentality. if he worked customer service or at a restaurant he may genuinely say fuck the military consequences and consider mass genocide after one too many bad encounters. plus Knives would just be like 'why would I serve an inferior being?'

•but I could see him working at a small local book store or library. it's quiet, not too busy and Knives gets to easily learn about new books or books he may never have ended up hearing about. not much really happens, but one day more people than usual come in to buy a certain book. Knives mentions it to you and you have to explain how a Trigun fan account recommended 'This is How You Lose the Time War.' he has to take a second to take the information in.(I'm so sorry I just had to add this in nsvsjwhks- iykyk-)

•he still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that people enjoy Trigun. Knives tries not to think about it a lot, it weirds him out. the fact that a lot of people know about his past, trauma, and apparently, future makes him feel a little queasy and gross. he knows there's nothing he could've done and though no one knows he's actually there, it's still really invasive to him.

•anyways, if Knives learned how to drive, he would be very responsible. the only time he'd break any laws is speeding 10 mph above the speed limit on the highway, but everyone does that so he just joined in.

•whenever someone near him is driving like an asshole he sits there with a death glare. he's there thinking, 'I could ruin your car with my blades. I won't, but I could.' (he wishes he could but he knows many cars have a dashcam and that would cause bigger problems than just legal ones.)

•if it weren't for him living at your place, Knives would have little to no decorations in his home. maybe a few plants and coasters on the tables and books that he likes on a bookshelf, but that's kinda it. he might frame some of his paintings and hang them up. (I can see him with hanging vine plants)

•he gets into gardening a little, maybe hydroponics. Knives doesn't really want a big garden, but he'd like to grow a few vegetables and herbs.

•Knives still doesn't sleep, but over time he will join you for bed and cuddle you as you fall asleep. though after a while, Knives will get out of bed to do his own things. it takes a while for him to get into the idea of just sleeping, but he starts to indulge himself as he realizes how comforting it is to lay with you and rest.

•he starts to surprise you with romantic dinners, like he'll have candles lit up, a slow melody playing in the background. afterwards Knives will draw a bath for you and if you want him to, he'd gladly join you. either way, he's helping you wash up, telling you to just rest after the day you've had. it's the least he could since he can't work.

•overall he does end up adjusting quite well, it just takes him a long time to accept that he does have to live among humans and that the goal he's been working towards for years is practically undoable now. and it takes even longer to start indulging himself in other hobbies and his emotions that start to grow. (although I think his view on humans won't exactly change. but he acknowledges that there are people who are fighting for the greater good.)

[taxevasiontactics]

The Godmother's Godchild [1] - Hello, World

Synopsis: After you receive news that Aunt Marian has passed away following the worst shift in your life, you decide that you are too overworked, too stressed, and too tired to deal with grief while handling your job. You escape to the cottage that she left for you to try and recuperate. The town it's in is so small you nearly miss it on the map - the perfect place, so long as you don't get into any trouble.

Warning: Minor Character Death (mention)

You have to admit. Even from the vantage point of her kitschy kitchen tile floor, Aunt Marian had impeccable taste in décor.

You remember walking into a fancy lawyer’s office in a haze; barely awake, fresh out of a double shift at the hospital, still reeling from the fact that even the kindest and most magical people (godmother, both ways) can pass away from old age. Aunt Marian wasn’t stingy about her secrets in life. Told you who she was, what she did with the funny bottles and sparkles, and proudly mentored you into university. Medical Alchemy Practitioner. A doctor.

It feels like just yesterday she was checking in on you after an absolute knockout rush. Ragging on at your work, like always, because she just can’t leave well enough alone when there’s room for improvement – and there is always room for improvement.

You call that “maroon”? Come on, now. I have another trick for you, roll up your sleeves and start the boiler again.

Don’t even start, she knows that’s as red as these ingredients will let you get.  You don’t have the luxury she gets with her garden.

And that’s where the trick comes in. Someday, you’ll have to figure this out on your own without good ingredients or good odds. Quit being a donkey and let’s get to work.

It was sudden – poof, into thin air, and she was gone. She’d left an old house perched on some coastal cliff in the middle of nowhere and all its contents to you in her will. “Do with it what you want”, the lawyer rattled off from the magically and legally binding paper. “Sell it, live in it, use it how you please. It’s yours, little branch. Do what makes you happy.”

Even as you grieved, the rest of your life kept weighing on your back. The house was on your mind every time you came home exhausted. You wanted out. You wanted a break. Most of all, you wanted to make sure that the place was something Aunt Marian would’ve been proud of before you started looking for buyers. You went away, leaving an uncertain “return to work” date on HR’s desk.

“Eugh…”

So, here you are, sifting through the contents of Aunt Marian’s unemptied fridge and cursing to yourself that you didn’t think to put a fume mask on. You again wish you talked with her more often, maybe then you wouldn’t have to dig so much weird stuff out from the dark recesses. Like goblin cheese, wedged between an old pack of pepperoni slices and a perfectly organized shelf of reagents. Who the hell buys goblin cheese these days? ---

It takes a while to haul all the spoiled food out, but you’ve got it done and stuffed into a nearly overfilled bin. The town has a garbage collection service; thank goodness for that, you don’t think you could’ve fit all of that in your truck bed without something noxious bursting. You still feel bad for the stretched, plastic bin.

“Thank you for carrying my Aunt’s incredibly stinky and overdue burden,” you tell it with a pat on its lid. “You’re a very good trash bin.”

“Miao,” says the trash bin in return.

“Yes, miao to you too.”

You pause only when you realize that you can’t talk to inanimate objects. Even if you did suddenly develop the ability – which is very difficult, Aunt Marian told you once, so apologizing to things you knock over is like speaking in reverse Spanish to someone from the Arctic - you’re fairly certain that a trash bin would not meow.

You investigate the bin further to find a scrappy tabby rubbing its face against the angular sides. No collar. Small chip out of the ear. Funny bend in its tail.

“Poor thing, you must be a stray…”

“Miao.”

You kneel, reach out, and tuck a knuckle under its chin. It seems to appreciate the act, leaning into your finger as you rub its rough jaw from below. You know you should probably be getting back to work on cleaning out the kitchen, considering the sun is starting to get low and you have yet to cook dinner for yourself, but a small break with a cute thing like this is no foul. You came out here to try and get on with your grief (as far as you can anyways) with a break from constant work. This is de-stressing. Yes, you are feeling so very relaxed right now.

The cat takes this moment to jump onto your back from the perfect vantage point, rip open a trash bag from the overflowing bin, and make off with some unknown prize of infinite spoilage. You watch it go, slack jawed, in disbelief that you were suckered by a cat of all things.

“Wha- hey!”

Still, you really can’t let the cat eat an unknown, probably spoiled object in good conscience. You run after it with a graceful takeoff, like a flipper-less duck off of a maple syrup lake that bounces twice off its surface before achieving lift, in quickly fleeting hopes of wrenching the expired substance away.

The chase makes you thankful for every marathon day you ever worked. Your quarry drags you through bushes, runs circles off the road, and leads you so far away that you don’t even know where the cottage is at this point; but you keep chasing. You are a human. You are an endurance predator. You will outlast this cat. You will get this cat! You will get the smelly thing out of its mouth! You will watch it run right back onto the road in front of a speeding vespa, stopping stock still in front of its tires!

You are a human with (what you like to think is) a healthy amount of self-preservation, but you also have an entire degree in the art of ‘saving things’. Your eyes bulge out of your head as you run into the road too, desperately waving at the driver to try and get him to stop. You can see his entire body jerk back, face as white as a sheet, and heels digging into the ground when you throw yourself towards the animal.

“Wait- WAIT! HOLD ON! CAT! CAT ON THE ROAD! STOP!”

“YEAOUGH-!”

Brakes squeal. Dust flies. Your stomach hits and grinds against dirt when you land and snatch the cat by its scruff. You feel the front tire bump against your side. When it doesn’t roll over you and squash ribs four through six from lateral to lateral, you risk taking a sigh of relief as you get up. The driver sees what you dove for as you stand. In an instant, the color returns to his face with a tint of red. His foot jerkily flicks his bike rest into place as he yanks his helmet off.

“Hey, hey! What’s the big idea, eh?! You crazy?!” His voice is strained, shouting, and rolling his R’s the more worked up he gets. He rounds the two-wheeled motor to get right in your face – and, boy, what a presence he is. “You tryna get the both of us killed?!”

His volume is intimidating enough by virtue of volume alone, but that isn’t what catches you. What really catches you is that he’s big. Not big in the sense that he looms over you, you mostly see eye to eye. No, the man is wide, two tree trunks for legs solidly supporting a rounded stomach, leading up to a broad chest and arms to match. The guy looks like he could huck the idling vehicle without breaking a sweat – and with modest accuracy, too. He’s radiating heat while his hands flicker back and forth, chewing you out for your ill-advised attempt at meeting God. His round face is scrunched up and getting more frustrated by the minute. The combover’s doing a poor job of hiding his temper, vein starting to pop on his forehead. You note that his nose is slightly crooked above a slightly bushy mustache when he leans in, like it healed incorrectly.

“Are you listening?!”

You snap back into focus, analysis cut short. Shouting is one thing, him waving his hand in your face is another. You used to hate it when people did that. It got you riled up once upon a time, ready to yell back. Instead, you hold up the creature that started it all as an explanation, dripping plastic bag full of goop still hanging from its mouth.

“I was cleaning, found this cat by the bin, and it tried to run off with” -you pull the packaging from its mouth to emphasize the grossness. It rips slightly, treating you both to the sight and smell of expired pickled egg- “something that it probably shouldn’t eat. It might have made it sick.”

His face twists from anger to disgust and disappointment. Wait, is that a white tank top over a black shirt? What? That’s a terrible choice. “That doesn’t mean you have to jump in front of a bike for it.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting it to run into the road. I was focused on chasing it, not minding someone speeding.”

“There isn’t even any signage posted, fast is the only speed limit-”

“Wait, better one for you, actually. Why didn’t you look out for people crossing the long, straight road?”

“Why didn’t you look out for someone coming down the- look, I don’t have time for this!” He throws his hands into the air, yanking the helmet onto his head again. “I’m gonna be late. Have fun with your cat, or whatever it is you were doing. Don’t jump in front of things for stupid reasons!”

With that, he jumps back on his vespa with a murmured line or two in a language you don’t understand (but have a fairly good idea on the meaning) before speeding off again. You scowl after him. The only thing you can think to do is stick your tongue out after his retreating figure.

“What a shame. I don’t even have his name to insult,” you tell the cat. It says nothing in return. You set it back on the ground and make a very disapproving shake of the head at it. “Very clever, cat. Don’t dig in the trash anymore, alright? I’m not going to chase after you next time. It’s your own fault if you eat something gross and get sick.”

“Miao.” It is entirely unflummoxed to be manhandled and divested of its dinner.

“…Alright. Good talk.”

“Miao.”

It trots off up the road, tail curled up high above itself. You assume it’s going home and follow suit, turning the other way with a running list on how to protect your trash from future would-be thieves.

---

You realize that you never had time to get anything to cook by the time you finish cleaning the kitchen. The sun is low, meaning the town’s grocer is probably closed by now. You are out of luck, out of time, and left with a growling stomach empty from a day of physical labor. It’s left you with a craving for a box of cheap pizza and cheaper beer to wash it down from years of helping friends move in college. You get up, suddenly, the thought sticking in your head hopefully.

Even somewhere like this nowheresville has to have a pizza delivery place somewhere. Capitalism can’t fail you on this front.

Your efforts are rewarded after a quick location search. No Pizza Hut, no Dominos, but a place called Peppino’s Pizza (standard American-Italian branding name and slogan “The best-a pizza in-a  town-a!”, at least the mascot character is cute) blessedly delivers this late into the night. No online ordering form, but one measly phone call is a concession you can make for hot n’ ready, carb-and-fat goodness.

The call is pleasant enough, too. A kind voice by the name of “Gustavo” (they’re really putting emphasis on Italian here) takes your order, promising a delivery time of thirty minutes or less – or it’s free! You gather up the paper payment, making sure to include the tip. You’ve done your time in graveyard jobs, it’s only right to pay it forward to the next generation.

As promised, within thirty minutes, you get a knock at the front door.

“Hi, thanks for-“

“Delivery from Peppino’s-“

You come face to face with the exact same guy from earlier, still wearing the stupid t-shirt-tank-top getup. In a moment of brilliant association, you realize you probably should have put two and two together earlier. Vespa, accent, “I’m late”, the faint smell of pizza as he took off.

He suddenly looks very uncomfortable on the other side of the doorway with one shoe digging into the ground. You can only assume he’s doing a very strenuous mental routine remembering your earlier interaction.

“So that means you’re, ah…” He clears his throat, finding the doorframe very inviting to stare at. “You’re the one who took over Mama Marian’s place. Are you also a uh… miracle worker?”

You tilt your head. “I wouldn’t call it working miracles. I don’t think I’m even allowed to practice medicine here. I’m not taking over either, I’m just here for a little while.”

“A-ha, so it is, so it is…”

You both continue to stand there awkwardly for a good few seconds. A cricket chirps somewhere in the distance. The man clears his throat again, stiffly holding out your order.

“Thanks.” You take it, exchanging the goods for a wad of bills. “Plus tip. Look, about earlier-“

“It’s fine! It’s very fine,” he says, clearly not fine and itching to get off of your doorstep thanks to the mortification of trying to pretend it never happened at all. “We get off on the wrong foot, we leave it at that. I’m very sorry for yelling at you. Very sorry.”

You feel whiplash comparing the current situation with the last. What happened between then and now? He was spitting mad earlier, now he’s acting like you’ll bite his head off! Aunt Marian can’t have built that bad of a reputation here. You inwardly groan, set the pizza aside, and follow the step he takes in retreat.

“Agreed.” You hold out your hand. He flinches back. “We can make it up by starting from the top.”

“The top?”

“Introductions.”

You start. Your name and title, even if he’d already figured out the latter. He takes you up on the fresh start, shaking hands with a sweaty palm.

“Peppino.”

Oh, so he’s the owner of the pizza place.

“Peppino Spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti.” Your constrained laugh must be showing if he’s already frowning. “Your last name is Spaghetti.”

“Yes, my last name is Spaghetti, ha ha ha. Laugh it up.”

“Wait.” You turn back towards the box, pointing to the cutesy, cherubic mascot printed in red. You don’t know if it’s the delirium that comes with hunger, but the hilarity is multiplied tenfold knowing that this isn’t some half-assed attempt at ‘authenticity’. “That means that’s you on the pizza box? Peppino Spaghetti, that’s you!”

He turns away, olive branch deftly dropped onto the ground. “Ok, I’m wasting my time here. Good night!”

“Wait! I’m sorry!” You try to control the sniggering, to little avail. It’s already loose. “Really!”

Peppino doesn’t listen, muttering to himself again (something something, culo?) as he jams his helmet back on and speeds back into the night. By the time you muster something better to say than ‘sorry’, he’s already a small, halogen-yellow dot on the road.

You sigh. Oh well. You head back inside, intent on enjoying your dinner while it’s still hot. If you wanted to piss him off, then you did a fine job of it. You could always try apologizing later. You have a feeling it won’t be the last time you see him, anyways.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

so uh. hey. first time actually writing and posting fanfic anywhere. fair warning, i do intend for this to be kind of a slow burn. it's fun to write for a character that has little to no canonical personality because i get to do mostly anything i want, dohoho. also a challenge to see how long i can go without explicitly needing to describe the reader in any capacity. enjoy, either way.

[purplesurveys]

1590

What color are your eyes? They’re dark brown.

Is anyone you work with currently on maternity leave or vacation? Yeah, this girl I work with for the same client but is from a different agency. Come to think of it she’s been out since around May or June.

Favorite boy’s name? I’ve taken a liking to the names Liam, Noah, Jacob, and Seth.

Baked macaroni and cheese or regular? Ooh, I love me some good baked mac.

What’s the first thing you learned how to draw? It had to have been either a stick figure or a house.

Name one of your friends’ children: None of my friends have kids, but I’m already ready to be the best aunt lol.

What was the name of your 5th grade teacher? Her name is Victoria. I remember her coming off as intimidating since she’s a little older than the rest of the other teachers in the level, but is actually quite nice (and funny) if you get to know her better. I wonder how she’s doing; I hope she’s been healthy.

Sterling silver or titanium? Uhhhh don’t really have a preference on this one.

How many hours do you work in a day? It can range anywhere from 8 to like 15 on a bad day.

Have you ever been to a casino? I’ve been in one, but I only walked past the different slots(?) and roulettes since I had been a few days shy of turning 18 at the time. Now that I’m 24 I think I would still steer clear since I don’t want to fall into that trap.

Who wrote the last book you read? No clue.

What’s the middle name of your bestfriend? Not sharing that.

What’s your favorite food? These days, it’s fried chicken and waffles.

How far away do you live from the closest aquarium? An hour and a half away.

Favorite girls name? Mia, Charlotte, Elizabeth. Wyatt and Elliott are also growing on me.

Name one of your candle scents: I like scents that are supposed to remind you of the sea.

What’s the name of your favorite restaurant? This local Korean restaurant that’s a 15 minute drive away. Owner’s Korean, so every single meal is as Korean as it gets. My only wish is that they start serving miyeokguk since I’m sure many people go there for birthday feasts and such.

Are you in a relationship? If so, how long? I haven’t been in a relationship in like two years, and am not interested in getting in one any time soon.

Who in your family has a birthday in January? My dad, on the last day of the month.

When was the last time you lost power? How long was it out and the cause? September. There was a typhoon at the time so our area and the neighboring cities lost electricity then; it was out for pretty much the entire afternoon, which was a big inconvenience since I had work that day and data wasn’t doing its job very well.

Do you know any twins? I know my sister had a couple of classmates who were sets of twins.

What’s your favorite flower? Peonies. Pick 3 random colors: Olive, pastel pink, purple.

Would you ever dye your hair that color? My hair is already purple; I’ve also been meaning to dye my hair olive someday. I’m not a fan of pink hair on me, though; too bright for my liking.

Do you own any underwear that color? Just in pink.

Can this be used as a last name? Everyone in this country has Hispanic surnames so if you encounter people with colors as their last name, they are most likely expatriates lol.

What’s your favorite country song? Not a fan of country.

Do you drink alcohol? Yeah, largely in social settings. I try to cut back on drinking on my own as I don’t want to form a habit.

Do you use any food delivery services such as UberEats, DoorDash, etc? Yeah, I get Grab like 1-2 times a week.

What color is your mailbox? We don’t have one.

What age did you lose your virginity? I was 18.

Dogs or cats? Dogs.

Do you know anyone who’s been to prison? I do. What’s one thing on your shopping list? I wanna restock on Bibimmyeon noodles so bad. The first time I bought it I only got one pack in case I ended up not liking it, but it was SO good and my tastebuds have been looking for it ever since lol.

Freeze tag or musical chairs? Musical chairs, because I was good at it.

Where did you go on your last vacation? Batangas. Have you ever been stuck in the mud? I don’t think I have.

What was the last thing you took a picture of? My ticket to Seonho’s fanmeet! I can’t believe I’m seeing him :’) He was my first post-breakup fixation, so my relationship with him holds so a lot more meaning and significance than my other fandoms. Start-Up gave me something to sink my teeth into during my major depression days; from there I started watching 2 Days 1 Night too and Seonho had always been my favorite. I’m really excited and I’m gonna have to try not cry when I see him lol

Name someone you work with: Bea. How far away is the closest Walmart? Idk...978937438483433 miles maybe.

Chick-fil-A, Taco Bell or McDonald’s? McDonald’s only because it’s the most accessible. Taco Bell is GREAT but we only have like 4 branches and all of them are too far for me to be willing to travel. No Chick-Fil-As here and besides, I’ve heard they’re quite problematic too? I think it’s anti-LGBT sentiments, if I remember correctly.

Did you ever get an allowance as a child? It was starting in high school. I had packed food throughout grade school.

What food do you see the most of at baby showers? I’ve never even been to one.

Do you know the capital of your state? We don’t have states but yeah I know the capital of what our equivalent is.

Have you ever rode on a motorcycle? Just a scooter, never a motorcycle.

When’s the last time you ate any type of sweet? Yesterday when I had these Milo bites that tasted a lot like Maltesers.

Pizza rolls or bagel bites? PIZZA ROLLS

What kind of flooring is in the room you’re in? Concrete.

Is the internet connection good where you live at? Yeah. I’m at the rooftop and I am right in front of our giant wifi antenna lol so I’d be pretty shocked if the connection is bad here. Do you need to do laundry? Nope.

What’s your favorite scent? The sea, bakeries, and freshly-brewed coffee.

Have you ever lived in a hotel before? Nope.

What kind of pets does your grandmother have? My paternal grandma has like 5 dogs; she has always been a huge dog lover; and actually, Kimi was a gift from her. She was always so amazed that Kimi outlived the rest of his family and lived for as long as he did :)

Do you follow any type of trials? Like...subscription trials? I have no ongoing ones.

What’s the last show you really got into that you have to wait for the next season of? The only ongoing series I enjoy is The Crown. Otherwise, I’m not a fan of following shows that are currently on air because I haaaaaate waiting.

SpongeBob or Patrick? Spongebob. Patrick is hilarious but his stupidity can annoy me at times hahaha.

When’s the last time you saw fireworks? During the now-trauma-inducing PR event I handled last June. The event I lost so much sleep for, lost a part of myself for, and the event that forced me to put my grief for Kimi aside. Fuck that client forever.

Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Not as it happened, but I have seen hundreds of accident aftermaths.

Do you own a pair of fuzzy socks? No.

What kind of ice cream is your favorite? Those that have hard chocolate shells YUM

Have you ever been skinny dipping? Nooooo, not a fan of the idea. I could never do that, even around close friends.

Sprinkles or frosting? Frosting.

Do you like mushrooms? Love them. I had the most amazing mushroom soup at our company Christmas party last Friday and this question just made me crave it all over again.

How many tattoos do you have? Zero. Do you own any type of hand sanitizers? Yeah I have a BT21 one hahaha.

Have you ever worked in a grocery store? I haven’t.

What’s your Subway order? I never order Subway. I don’t dislike it, but it’s just never been a go-to choice.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? An hour ago.

Do you know how to roller skate? I mean I can’t do tricks, but I can keep my balance and glide. I used to own a pair as a kid and would practice nonstop around the house.

Can you read sheet music? No.

How old is your youngest sibling? 19.

Do you have an Amazon account? No.

What day is payday? I’d rather not share that.

What’s one food your family has at Thanksgiving? At what?

Do you like painting? I love looking at paintings, but I rarely do it myself. When I do, it’s through paint by number kits; I’ve never actually crafted a portrait on my own.

Have you ever been swimming with dolphins? I haven’t. I’d rather watch them from a distance.

What’s your favorite snack food? Mozzarella sticks.

You’re watching Law & Order, is it the regular or SVU? I’ve never been into that. Not a big fan of crime series in general, actually.

What were you doing last time it snowed? I’ve never seen snow.

Do you have to sleep with a fan on? Only during the summer. I can usually go through nights with the fan turned off as long as the aircon is on.

Chapstick or lip gloss? I don’t use either.

When was the last time you took a shower? This morning before I headed to the mall to pick up my ticket.

Do you know how to play basketball? No, I’ve never understood the more specific rules; and am even more awful at the court in the handful of times I was forced to play basketball.

Name one thing you put on a salad: I just like spicy tuna salad; and that has lettuce, tuna sashimi, spicy mayo, and sometimes panko. Do you own anything that’s your favorite color? Yeah my wallet is pink.

What’s the last thing you ordered from a Mexican restaurant? Nachos and grilled chicken.

Do you carry a purse or a backpack? I always use shoulder bags.

What kind of soda is your favorite? I don’t enjoy soda but in the times I’m too shy to decline, I just go for Sprite.

Have you ever cut yourself shaving? Sure, but for the most part I shave carefully and very gingerly because seeing blood come out of me makes my entire body turn into jelly lol 

Penguins or pandas? That’s so tough! But I think I’ll go with pandas heheh.

Do you like your in-laws? I love the one in-law I have (cousin-in-law) and wish I can hang out with her more! That’s probably more possible now that my cousin and she are engaged; should make that a goal this 2023 :)

What do you usually do for Christmas? We usually hop around our relatives and their houses so we can celebrate Christmas with them. Within our immediate family, we open gifts on the 24th.

Have you ever used any type of Aromatherapy? Yeah, we have an essential oil diffuser that I’d use from time to time.

Toe socks or ankle socks? Ankle.

Who’s your favorite Pokémon character? Ho-Oh.

What’s the temperature range in your area? 27ºC to 5,000,000ºC.

Does your trash need to be taken out? Not anymore; we take it out every evening and I think that’s been done already.

Nachos or chips and salsa? Nachos; the more customizable the better.

What’s the name of your pets? Cooper and Agi.

Have you been around anyone that creeped you out? I guess, but thankfully it’s always just been people I encounter in passing.

What’s your Chick-fil-A order? I’ve never had Chick-Fil-A.

Regular or pink lemonade? Regular, I guess. I’m not familiar with pink lemonade and idk what it’s in it.

Do you know anyone who’s lost their house in a natural disaster? No, but living in a typhoon-prone country there is usually always someone I know - relatives, friends - who have had to deal with major flooding and damages to their furniture after a typhoon.

What’s your favorite candy? Gummy candies.

Chinese or Japanese cuisine? Japanese. Chinese culture is so deeply ingrained in ours that their cuisine might as well be considered pseudo-Filipino at this point hahaha, and I’d rather explore other cuisines.

Colored pencils or sharpies? It depends what I’m using them for.

Do you own a pair of Crocs? Nah but I’m badly considering getting a pair just for the Jibbitz.

Have you ever been to DisneyWorld? Nope.

Does anyone in your family have a birthday in February? Yes, one of my uncles (mom’s brother).

How long does it take for your phone to fully charge? 45 minutes to an hour.

What color is your hairbrush? Purple.

Is there any movies out that you want to see? No.

Do you know how to run a cash register? I don’t.

Chicken or beef noodles? Uh, pork belly hahaha. What year did you get your drivers license? 2016.

Do you have any piercings? I do but I haven’t put earrings on them in years. Amazingly enough neither has closed up this entire time.

What kind of makeup do you wear? In the times I have to put my PR personality on for events and (begrudgingly) put on makeup, I head towards my sister’s foundation, eyeshadow, concealer, and highlighter; and if I have enough energy for it, eyeliner.

What’s your Taco Bell order? I just get one of their burritos. Idk what they call it.

Do you wear any type of shimmer spray or glitter? No.

Have you ever lived in a trailer/doublewide? Nopes.

What’s your boyfriends/girlfriends middle name? I don’t have one.

Are you into anime? Mm, not really. I watched Pokemon and Slam Dunk as a kid but that’s it. As an adult, the only anime thing I’ve watched and enjoyed is Kimi no Na wa.

Pizza or nacho lunchables? Idk what Lunchables are.

Have you ever been to a strip club? I’ve never been but that’s long been on my bucket list to experience entering one even just once haha.

Do you know how to play any instruments? Nope.

Have you ever been inside of a courtroom? Not the smaller ones. I’ve been to the House of Representatives though - once, for a journalism assignment.

What kind of restaurants do you eat at while you’re on vacation? We definitely try the local cuisines/delicacies. Places like McDonald’s and other fast food options are a big no-no in our family when we’re traveling.

Did you ever participate in any pageants when you were younger? No, and I’m glad my family never put me in them.

What kind of cheese is your favorite? Mozzarella, burrata, and feta.

Does your phone have any cracks or scuffs? MIRACULOUSLY enough it doesn’t. It’s been 10 months and it looks the same as the day I bought it.

Have you ever had a professional massage? Just once. But I didn’t like how you have to strip down to your underwear; it made me really uncomfortable so I haven’t booked another appointment since then. Masseuse was amazing at her job though.

Which would you rather have, twins or triplets? Oof, just one kid at a time please.

Do you drink energy drinks? No, I’m scared of them and their possible effects on my body lol.

Can you swim? I mean, I honestly don’t think I’d last long if I found myself in like a shipwreck and had to tread for hours on end. But if by ‘swimming’ you meant if I knew strokes, then yeah I know a number of them. I took swimming classes as a child and also had PE classes where swimming was mandatory.

Make the perfect taco salad: I don’t eat taco salads.

Have you ever lived with friends or a roommate? Never have.

Who in your family has a birthday in March? Two of my cousins and my late maternal grandpa.

What kind of pasta do you like? Spaghetti and fettuccine.

Do you know how to play volleyball? Sure. It’s a lot easier to understand than basketball, for sure.

How much decorating do you do around the holidays? Not much. We just put a tree up and have that decorated as fuck with a million trinkets and that’s it.

Have you ever been on a cruise? I have.

At what age did you learn how to tie your shoes? I was around 5 and had to learn since we had an ‘exam’ on it in kindergarten. Basically you had to demonstrate that you know how to tie your own shoelaces.

Oreos or chocolate chip cookies? Chocolate chip cookies. Oreo biscuits themselves taste too manufactured for me and I prefer it incorporated in other sweets, like cheesecake and ice cream.

What did you dress up for Halloween as a child? I didn’t go trick or treating all that much and the one notable costume I remember putting on was Tinkerbell.

Can you count to ten in Spanish? Yes, thanks to all the hours spent watching Dora.

Name a character from your favorite TV show: Gus Fring, absolute badass of a man.

Do you like going to arcades? They’re okay, but they aren’t my main idea for a fun time with friends as for the most part I find them pretty crowded. I also feel too old for them sometimes lol.

What was the last personal care item you bought from the store? A razor.

Airplanes or helicopters? Airplanes. 

Have you ever been camping for more than a week? Nopes.

What kind of meat do you like the most? Pork belly.

Do you actually stop and pet dogs you actually see? Stray dogs, yes. I feel that they need so much more of the world’s kindness. But if it’s a pet dog, I typically would just say hi from a distance; I’ll only pet if the owner goes first and gives me a go-signal to do so, and if the dog does not look stressed.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? No. What’s the craziest thing you’ve found at a hotel before? In Singapore our room had switches that would draw the curtains open and close. It was such a simple piece of technology that I’m sure first-world countries have anyway, but as someone from the Philippines I was so amazed haha.

How far is the closest Target? Refer to my answer for Wal-Mart.

Snakes or spiders? Snakes.

What’s your Panera Bread order? What?

Do you have any cool keychains? My Tata ones :)

How old is your oldest living grandparent? My maternal grandma turned 76 yesterday.

Do you watch movies? Yes, but not nearly as often as I used to.

Who in your family has a birthday in April? Me and my brother.

Have you ever had your nails done professionally? I don’t think so.

What color Christmas tree do you use? Green.

What’s your go to dipping sauces? Spicy mayo, mayo + ketchup, soy sauce, sesame oil, gochujang sauce.

Do you know how to properly pack a U-Haul truck? No...I’m not sure I know what that is, either.

What was your least favorite math? Calculus and trig were so pointless and useless to me. I HAAATED taking those classes in senior year knowing I was headed towards a journalism course lol.

Have you ever been published in a magazine? Possibly.

What color is your snow gloves? I don’t own a pair of those.

How old were you when you last went to the dentist? 24. I went a few times a couple of months ago to get my teeth cleaned, get x-rays done, and have a wisdom tooth pulled out. Do you own a printer? We don’t. My family just doesn’t print that often enough to get a printer altogether.

What’s your Applebees order? I’ve never eaten at the one Applebees branch that we have in the country.

Do you bring home seashells from the beach? I would never do that.

What kind of video games do you play? I don’t really play video games. My skillset is largely limited to phone app games, hahaha.

Is anyone in your family in law enforcement? No. I remember one of my uncles (dad’s brother) enrolling at I think it was a police academy??? but nothing came out of that I believe and he ended up just switching career fields.

How long ago was the last funeral you attended? The last wake I attended was Nacho’s in 2019. I’ve never been to a funeral.

What color is the blanket on your bed? Pink.

Where did you get your name from? First name was from my dad; my second name was picked by my mom.

Do you wear lipstick? Nope.

What’s a fruit you dislike? Mangoes.

What kind of donuts do you like? Ones with a chocolate glaze.

Do you know how to braid hair? I never learned how to.

What’s one accessory you wear? I don’t really. I always have a black hairtie on my wrist but I know that barely counts lol.

How many hoodies/jackets do you own? Less than ten, I know that much.

What was the last name of the road you lived on? Wow, I’m not sharing that.

What brand of chocolate do you prefer? Reese’s.

Nike or Adidas? Nikeeeeeeeeee. I might be handling Adidas at work but I’ll always be a Nike girl.

What will your future wedding colors be? Do I even know if I’ll be getting a wedding? Do you have a phone mount in your car? No. I really need one though considering I use Waze every time I drive, even during the times I know where I’m going.

Make the perfect omelet: Cheese, tomatoes, bell peppers, few bits of jalapeño. Sometimes ketchup.

What’s the name of the air freshener closest to you? There isn’t one near me.

[redsightstories]

Project G

            I’m a big fan of newspapers. I know they’re obsolete and outdated, that most people get their news from the radio or even television nowadays, but I quite like the feel of a newspaper in my hands. I guess I’m old fashion that way, a lot of people would say that, and I guess it would be pretty accurate. But I think something a lot of people discount is the privacy of having a big piece of paper in front of your face that newspapers can afford you. You don’t even have to be reading it, just hold it up and it’s like you disappear in plain sight. No need to do anything silly either, like cutting a hole in it to look out of. That just makes you look ridiculous, and usually, just listening to conversation is enough anyway. And, of course, you can read the news from it, which was the whole point of the thing in the first place.

            A truly undervalued piece of medium in this modern age. I had my face in one even now, as I sat at a small diner and enjoyed a cup of coffee. One sugar, one crème. Nothing wrong with a little sweetness in your life, that’s what I always say, and that should carry over into your food as well. The headline of the oh so often forgotten paper was screaming about some politician I didn’t give a rat’s ass about, so I skipped over it and went deeper, looking at some of the smaller articles. The pork ban was still in effect, which did sour my mood a little. The paper said it was an illness similar to mad cow disease, but for, of course, pigs.

Maybe it was even true. I had seen one of them once, wandering the streets, just right there in the middle of town. Somehow, it had escaped from a slaughterhouse or something similar, wherever pigs were kept. That wasn’t important, what was important the animal itself. It had looked awful. Stumbling and frothing at the mouth, it moved like it had no sense of self-preservation at all, walking directly into the path of traffic and right up to people, who shrank away from it immediately. As I stared at it, with its strange clammy skin and white foam dribbling from its mouth, an animal control van rounded the corner, going much too fast for what seemed strictly necessary. Perhaps they were worried about rabies, which didn’t seem out of the question for this poor thing. But as they captured it, using long poles and nets, I got a good look at it before it was taken away. As wild as it may seem, I could have sworn that from the center of its forehead grew a giant third eye, right there, yellow and rolling. Then it was gone, but I knew what I saw.

So, while I love my newspapers, I know that you can’t always trust what you read, what you hear, what you see from the media. But just because you can’t always believe it, doesn’t mean you can’t learn from it. So I shook off those memories, so different from this quiet midnight diner, and went back to reading my paper. I took a small sip of my coffee as a piece about world news grabbed my eye, and I began to read it. According to it, the number of disappearance all over the world had been skyrocketing recently, leaving experts baffled. This was funny, in a macabre sort of way. You see, I knew of a disappearance myself, so in a way, I had made the news. It was a mother, seemingly vanishing off the face of the earth, and I had been hired to find her.

The waitress approached me from the other side of the counter, holding a pot of coffee.

“Refill sir?” She smiled, that sort of bland, tired smile that all service workers seemed to have. She was a nice woman, pretty, but much too young for me. Besides, no one liked to be bothered while on the job with that sort of thing, especially in the middle of the night, especially by middle-aged men, who for whatever reason couldn’t seem to let go of the old styles of media.

“No, thank you.” I said, and she nodded before going back to standing behind the register and got busy looking bored. The entire establishment only had a scant few patrons, including myself, so there wasn’t much for her to do. It was dark out, and this was one of the few places still open this late into the night, but even with that fact there were very few people in the place. I took a discrete look around, getting a feel for the other individuals who found themselves here at this odd time. There was the waitress, of course, a single cook in the kitchen, myself, an elderly man sitting alone in a booth, and finally, a young couple, sitting at the other end of the counter, talking to one another in low tones. A very slow night indeed. A glance out the window confirmed that the street was as deserted as this place was. Good, it should make my job tonight a little bit easier. I went back to reading my paper, but my mind wasn’t focused on it. I was thinking about what had led me to being out here in the first place, watching others to see if they were watching me.

I had been sitting in my small, cramped office, where the light was dim and the tiny window behind me did little to break the gloom. Perhaps the fact that I had shuttered it didn’t help, but I liked my privacy. I had been working on some paperwork, cursing how bad I was with numbers, when there had been a knock at the door.

“It’s open.” I had said, barely even looking up from my work. The door creaked open and peering through the stuffy room I thought for a moment that perhaps it had opened on its own, as there was nobody there. But then I looked down and saw him. He was a young boy, couldn’t have been older than ten, holding a piggy bank and trying to hide how nervous he clearly was. He took a deep breath, clutching the small object to his chest. It was white, with green clovers printed all over it. Perhaps he thought it would bring him some luck. The boy walked over to my desk, him and his brightly colored toy looking very out of place in my dark and dingy office. He stopped right in front of me, his face barely clearing the top of my desk.

“You’re a detective, right?” He asked quietly, struggling to make eye contact.

“That’s what it says on my door. But listen kid, I’m not gonna find your missing tricycle for you.” I said, perhaps a bit gruffer than I meant to. I hated paperwork.

“No, it’s not that.” He said quickly. “It’s, well, it’s my mom. She’s been missing for a couple of days, and I was hoping you could find her for me.” He uncorked his piggybank and dumped the contents onto my desk. Various coins went rolling amongst a few crumpled one-dollar bills. It couldn’t have been more than ten dollars at most. I sighed.

“What did you say your name was kid?”

“Seth.”             “Listen Seth, where’s your dad?” He frowned at that, still struggling to look me in the eyes.

“He’s with the police. He said that they have the best chance of finding her, but when I lost my red scooter, they wouldn’t even listen to me when I tried to tell them.” I suppressed the urge to smile. I liked this kid, he had drive, went to the second option when the first didn’t work out. But still, I couldn’t just take every sob story that came through my doors. I had mouths to feed. Mainly, mine.

But then I looked at the kid again, and I saw that despite the fact that he had been putting on a brave face, he was on the verge of tears. In this kid’s eyes, I was his last hope of finding his mother. I didn’t know how to tell him that she had probably run of with some other man or got tired of the domestic life or something like that. It wasn’t romantic and was in fact always disappointing to find, but I knew from experience that’s what it ended up being about ninety percent of the time. Still, with his big misty eyes staring at me, I just couldn’t bring myself to be the person who broke that hard truth to him.

My old partner, she would have told me that I was being a big softy again, that this kind of thing was why I was operating out of a one room office. But she wasn’t here, so with a weary sigh I reached across the desk and took the meager payment. The kid lit up as I did so, and I couldn’t help but give him a small smile, before quickly hiding it behind a scowl. No need to let this whole thing get out of hand, I still had somewhat of a reputation to uphold.

“Alright, tell me what you know.”

What he knew, it turned out, was not very much. He knew his mom worked for a company called “Looking Forward” which was, as far as I could gather, was a charity organization for abused women. Very noble. He couldn’t tell me what she actually did though, just that it had something to do with numbers. I guess that’s what I get for trying to get information from a probably eight-year-old. I wanted to talk to his father about it, get some more information than what meager amount Seth was able to give me, but the kid insisted I didn’t bother him, to the point that when I argued with him about it, I was worried he was gonna have a nervous breakdown right there and then. Finally, when I simply asked why, he just got real nervous looking and insisted that his father was a very busy man and that he wouldn’t want to be bothered by something like this.

This was clearly bullshit, and I considered asking about it further, but even just that simple question was clearly a no go, so I let it go for now. Besides, I’ve taken cases with less to work with anyway, and I was never one to shy away from a challenge. But that did mean I was mostly flying blind. I was able to gather that his mother’s name was Ruth Levi, which Seth told me, and she worked for accounting at the charity. I had the Yellow Pages to thank for that information, which is where you should always start when you are trying to find anything about anyone. It really was as easy as looking up “Looking Forward” in them, but then again, it wasn’t like anyone was trying to hide them from me, this was public information. Even better, when following this trail another name grabbed my eye, a woman who also worked accounting, same last name, same company. One would have to assume that they were relatives, and that seemed the most logical place to follow next. So I called her, on a payphone of course.

“Excuse me, is this Hannah?” I asked.

“Yeah, whatcha want?” The voice on the other end was rough but feminine, and the tone made it clear that she was not interested in being sold anything.

“I’m calling about Ruth Levi. I understand you two are related.” No need to make it complicated.

“What, is something wrong with her? I haven’t seen her in a couple days, sure, but that’s my sister for you, always going AWOL at the most random of times.” My eyes widened in shock, but I made sure to not make any noise. She didn’t know that Ruth had gone missing. That meant that not only did Seth not tell her, the police didn’t ask her any questions either. Following that, that meant that most likely the only people that knew about her disappearance were me, Seth, and his father, as they definitely would have asked a close relative about her. Thus, the only conclusion I could draw was that Seth had lied to me about his dad working with the police. But why? Why would he lie to me about that, what was he keeping from me? I had only just started this case and already I was finding holes, things weren’t making sense.

“Hello?” Hannah’s voice on the other end sounded impatient, but in fairness I had been standing there in silence for at least thirty seconds, processing all of this. The silence was becoming noticeable, but I was unsure of what to tell her. I had to make up my mind quickly.

“Um, no, nothing is wrong. I’m just calling from work; she was supposed to help me with some papers.” I lied quickly. On the other end of the line, a dismissive noise.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You might want to just go and do the work yourself.” Her voice lowered, just a bit. “I really do wish she would stop doing stuff like this. It worries me every time.” Another pause, this time from her, before she seemed to suddenly remember that she was talking to a stranger. “Oh uh, never mind, didn’t mean to get all personal with you.”

“It’s alright. Thank you, have a good night.” I said.

“You too.” She responded, then hung up, leaving me alone in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the wind blowing outside the glass phone booth. A short conversation, but very enlightening indeed. I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me. I headed home, intent on getting some rest. Then, me and Seth were going to have a little talk.

The next day, I went to the address of one Ruth Levi, where I had a feeling I would find a certain young boy. The home was a modest one-story affair, but with a well-kept front yard that had a few small children’s toys scattered around. There was no car in the driveway. I knocked on the well worn door, and I heard a scuffling noise coming from inside. A moment later, the door cracked open, and I saw a small face peeking out at me through it.

“You lied to me.” I said simply. Child or not, I didn’t appreciate being led on like that. For a moment, there was nothing, and I had a feeling that he was seriously considering closing the door on me and just hoping that I went away. But then he pushed it open, revealing a messy hallway and a little boy wearing a shirt with a movie monster on it and an old pair of jeans. He stared down at the ground, refusing to look at my face. Instead, he gestured for me to come inside, which I did. He closed the door behind me, and I glanced around, taking in the house. It was well lived in, to say the least. The hallway was honestly the worst part, with most of the mess being concentrated in it in the form of various coats and jackets being scattered around. The connecting living room and small kitchen, in comparison, were fairly tidy. Light streamed through several large windows in said rooms, giving the whole place a warm feeling. Satisfied, I looked back to the boy, who still hadn’t looked at me once.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered to the floor, almost inaudibly. I raised an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you tell me your dad didn’t contact the police? Why does it seem like no one else knows about your mother? Why are you home, right now, when you should be in school? What are you keeping from me?” I wasn’t yelling, exactly, but my voice had gotten much harsher. His voice on the other hand trembled as he gave his answer, he was trying very hard to hold back tears.

“I-I didn’t want them to take me away.” He sniffled. Another moment of silence. In the distance, I heard a dog barking. I sighed, and gestured for him to come with me. He followed in silence, tears streaming down his face, as we went and sat at the worn kitchen table, sunlight covering us both in its golden rays from the window. For a long moment, I didn’t say anything.

“Where’s your dad kid?” I said, my voice just a little bit softer.

His finger traced the grooves in the old wood of the table as he looked at it. “I don’t know. I never knew him; it’s just been me and mom forever.” He sounded a little bit better now that my tone was calmer, but he was still threatening to burst into tears at any moment. “Sometimes Aunty will look after me when mom has to go away, but it’s pretty much just me and her.”

“Kid…” I started, and it was pretty obvious what I was thinking.

“Please.” He whispered pleadingly, looking up at me for the first time. “Please, just find my mom. Don’t make me go to an orphanage. I know she’s still out there. She’s gone away like this before, but she’s always come back, but it’s been days this time and she didn’t say anything and-” His voice broke here, and he didn’t say anything else.

Another long moment of silence. I looked around, at the dishes piling up in the sink, the dirty clothes, the child in front of me that should be in school.

“Does your aunt live near here?” I finally asked. He looked at me with surprise.

“Uh, yeah, not to far away, just a couple of streets away.” He said.

“And why didn’t you go to her earlier?” I asked.

“I uh, well normally mom drops me off there, and I don’t know it seemed like I would be bothering her and yeah.” He looked at me lamely. All I could do was shake my head. Children. I never really understood them. His mother was missing, and he didn’t want to bother his aunt about it.

“Go, stay with her.” He looked at me, and I knew what he was going to say. He was going to beg me not to tell her, because he was scared that he would be sent away. I have no clue where he got that idea, most likely he would go to live with his aunt if he really was parentless, and I told him this. He seemed surprised at this, and after a bit more talking, he agreed to go over there and tell her that his mom had gone missing again, and that he needed to stay with her. He agreed. I told him that I would go and check out her work, tonight, but that he had to tell his aunt everything. He agreed again. And that was that.

I gave the house a look through with the boy’s permission, seeing if there was anything I could find that may be conducive to the case, but found only standard living affairs, nothing that may hint on where his mother went. So then it was time for me to go, and there I was standing at the threshold of the house, looking back at the kitchen, at the little boy that was sitting alone at a table as he got ready to go to his aunts, and I felt like I needed to say something. It felt wrong to just leave him there like that.

“I’ll find her.” I promised. I normally didn’t make promises like that, they were too easy to break, but I had to say something, anything. He looked at me, with just a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear. And then I was gone, out the door and down the street, leaving him alone in that empty house. I don’t know if that was the right thing to do. I still don’t. Maybe I should have just gotten the police involved. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe it was pride, because I wanted to be the one to solve the case. Maybe I just had a bad feeling about it. I don’t know. But I did it, and that is how I ended up here, sitting at a late-night diner, drinking my coffee and biding my time, looking at the other customers to make sure they weren’t looking at me. Finally, when the clock on the wall read eleven, I stood up, folding my newspaper and tucking it under my arm. I left payment for the drink, cash, with a small tip. And then I was gone, out the door and into the cold night. There was one other place I wanted to check, the place that was perhaps as important to Ruth as her own home. Her place of work.

The streets were quiet, of course. Who in their right mind would be out at this hour? I didn’t want to say that this was a bad part of town, it wasen’t, but you can never be too careful, so why take the risk? But some things had to be done under the cover of night, and besides, I had protection. The revolver on my belt under my coat was a comforting weight, reassuring me that I wasen’t defenseless. “The Seventh Shot”, I had named it. My partner- ex-partner- had told me that was a bad name, that it only had six chambers. I told her that was the point. She just shook her head in exasperation at me. Bad name or not, I really hoped I didn’t have to use it tonight. That always made things messy, but it was always good to have some insurance.

I looked up at the moonless sky, wondering if she was doing alright. My partner, that is. When she had quit, she had been in a pretty bad way, and I had figured the best thing to do was let her be, so that she could figure things out. But that had been a long time ago, too long. I wondered if I should call her after this, check up on her. Maybe. But that was for another time. I kept walking while thinking, my destination close in mind and at hand. It was darker than usual, with it being a new moon, but there were a couple of streetlights scattered around, and a few stars shown down from high above. One in particular seemed to shine much brighter than the rest, hanging in the sky directly in front of me, seeming to be directly where I was walking too.

The North Star, I think. I don’t know for sure, I’m no astronomer. Did it always shine this bright?  I was so caught up in these thoughts that I almost didn’t realize that I had arrived at my destination. A small, squat building that lay at the end of the street, with the surprisingly bright star hovering directly over it. Big words on the windows confirmed that this was “Better Tomorrows” and that I was at the right place. There was a smaller section of building off to the side where the women who were taking refuge there actually slept, but that wasen’t what I was interested in. Rather, it was the office area, which made up the front of the building.

I felt a little offput by breaking into a place like this, where so many vulnerable innocents were staying, but I had to shake that off. I was doing this for a good cause, and besides, there was no reason that I should encounter any of the residents anyway, I wasen’t going anywhere near where the women slept. The office section was shut and the lights were off, making it clear that it was not currently open for business. I stared at the door for a moment, thinking about the best way to get in. I didn’t want to stay out on the street for too long, a man standing in front of a woman’s shelter in the middle of the night is a really bad look.

I reached out and grabbed the door handle, only mildly surprised to find it unlocked. One would be surprised at how often people forget to lock up after work, but I would hope that a shelter would do a better job at security. I may need to send an anonymous letter about that later. But for now, I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and slipped in, gently pulling the door shut behind me as I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket, shining it around the reception area. It cast a small circle of luminescence on chairs, tables, and a large desk, all of them empty and silent.

The air felt oppressive around me, in that way that all places that you aren’t supposed to be do. It was as if the room itself was glaring at you, telling you to leave, that you were not welcome here. But it wasen’t as if I could just come in during the day and take a poke around. That would raise far too many questions that I didn’t have answers to, and then it would turn into a big thing, and I really didn’t want to deal with all of that. Not yet anyway, not before I had done some looking around myself first.

So I worked my way to a door at the back of the room, taking it slow and making sure to not shine my flashlight out the shuttered windows. I opened the door, the light causing dark shadows to stretch far away from me, giving everything a cave-like quality to it. Looking around I saw that the room was composed of several small cubicles, each separated by low barriers between each one. Jackpot.

Stepping through the door, I checked the outer walls of the small offices, relieved to see that they had small name cards on each one of their rough off-white exteriors. There were only six, but that would cut down the amount of rummaging I would have to do substantially. I worked my down the hallway going left to right to check, with the third one being the winner. The words “Ruth Levi” was written on it in small brass letters, indicating that this was the place I was looking for. I entered the cramped space, surrounded by dark shapes that, during the day, would just be standard office equipment, but by night, in the dark, could be anything.

I dared not turn on any sort of light though, for fear of drawing too much attention, so I had to make do. Her desk was clean, with only a few scattered papers about the financial state of the shelter, which after a quick once-over assured that it seemed to be doing alright. As I looked around the desk, though, for a moment my gaze hovered on a small, framed photograph that rested in the corner of the desk. The picture inside showed a young boy, who I recognized as Seth, with an older woman with a similar face and hair, who I figured must be Ruth. She was holding him in her arms as they both smiled at the camera, blissfully unaware of the current situation that they were in. It disheartened me, in a way, the fact that this small happy family could be torn apart so easily. Things like this was why I had gone into this line of work in the first place.

But then the moment passed, and I tore my gaze away from the photo. I had limited time, I couldn’t waste it staring at pictures, no matter how sweet they may be. That being said, I wasen’t exactly sure what I was looking for. Some sort of hint, a message from a disgruntled ex-lover or coworker, maybe even something to suggest she was unhappy with her current state of affairs, but all I found were office supplies and clearly labeled files on the shelter and how it was being run. I pulled open the small filing cabinet, sifting through its contents, but it was all very self-explanatory work.

That is, until, at the very back of the bottom most drawer, I found a small, unlabeled folder. It grabbed my attention, with everything else being so clearly marked it was strange that this one was blank. I opened it, finding inside several papers and a handwritten note. I took that out and put it on the desk, reading it by the light of my flashlight.

Dear son. It read, the handwriting clear but a little scratchy, as though it had been written in haste. If you are reading this, then I fear that something terrible has happened to me. I-

I heard a noise, muffled, maybe not even there. I quickly swung my flashlight around the room, It’s beam illuminating empty cubicles and silent chairs. I scanned again, but there was still nothing. I was alone. But still, I felt unease in the pit of my stomach. I needed to hurry this up. Licking my lips, mouth suddenly dry, I went back to reading, trying to process it faster.

I want you to know that I love you, and no matter what, that will always be true. But I think that I might be working with some very bad people, and they might know that I know about them. I am going to be taking the evidence to the police tonight, but in the meantime I am writing this note in case something happens between then and now. I pray that it doesn’t. I’m going to ask my sister to deliver it to you, and if I don’t come home soon, I want you to stay with her. Don’t forget, there is ground beef in the fridge, you either need to have aunty cook it for you or put it back in the freezer. DO NOT try to cook it yourself.

Alright, I love you honey. See you soon. Love, Mom.

That was all that was written. Clearly, it had not been delivered as promised, and I had no illusions to think the reason as to why was innocuous. Something had caught up to her, but what? Was the shelter performing some sort of illegal activity? That was what the note seemed to be implying, if not outright stating. Perhaps tax fraud, or drug peddling, or even human trafficking. A grim thought, but if it was bad enough that they were willing to make anyone who was on their trail “disappear” then they must really not want to get caught. I turned my attention to the one other note that was in the folder, which was actually several papers stapled together. There was a post-it note attached to the corner of said packet, which simply read “Found on bosses’ desk”. The paper was simply titled “Project G.” With no date, name, or location attached to it. Intrigued, I began to read.

The Project is proceeding accordingly. That being said, there are certain variables that we have not accounted for, such as the reaction that there has been to various animals/wildlife, as well as certain volatile individuals who have been able to interact with the Project in ways we were not expecting. Despite this, We believe that if everything proceeds accordingly, we should have at least a forty percent saturation by-

A sudden noise made me quickly look up from the paper. That one was definitely real. I stuffed the contents of the folder back into it and stood up, holding it in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Running my flashlight around the room again, this time I caught movement as someone or something quickly ducked down behind one of the low walls, trying to avoid my light. Shit. This wasen’t just some random office worker pulling a late night, this person was actively trying to avoid being seen. My hand crept toward The Seventh Shot, but I stopped myself. I was the intruder; I was the one who shouldn’t be here. It may just be some terrified cleaning lady who thought I was a robber. Besides, there was an entire building of sleeping women who were already in a bad part of their lives right next door, I didn’t want to scare them or, god forbid, accidently hit one. Instead, I cleared my throat and called out. “Hello? Who’s there? I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just… I’m grabbing some papers for a friend.” Only a partial lie. But it seemed to work, as I saw someone slowly coming up from behind the wall, but I only caught a quick glimpse of them before I felt something hit the back of my head, hard.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

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

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[satanfemme]

👀 Please elaborate on the killjoys cafeteria au!! :)

[ID a screenshot of an anonymous message saying “I would like to hear about the cafeteria au!” End ID]

ok and some people replied to my post with interest too, so :3

basically au where they’d all work in a cafeteria, and idk where it’d be exactly, but maybe a small mall cafeteria or on a college campus? but also location doesn’t matter much either way, just that they’re all working there

and basically there’s a main cafeteria space where most of the killjoys r employed, including a full kitchen and salad bar, and then there’s also a Subway(tm) across the hall under the same management. and ofc all of them have “real” names rather than killjoy names in this au, but I haven’t figured that all out yet and so just for simplicity anyways I’ll be referring to them with their canon names. here’s a quick run down of my current job assignments for them:

main cafeteria space:

the director - retail manager (ie: in charge of both the subway and also the main cafeteria, but she isn’t always on location cause she’ll be out doing meetings and such with the even-higher-ups) korse - cafeteria manager, usually in his back office or running around from place to place - u know - managing things.

jet - head chef / supervisor for back of the house dr. d - sous chef / works the line vinyl - line cook

poison - supervisor for front of the house volume, newsagogo, and hot chimp - all cashiers ghoul - unofficially in charge of the salad bar- works at the salad bar vaya - also works the salad bar

adjacent Subway(tm):

kobra - subway manager val - works front of the house and hates it vamos - works front of the house and loves it

the girl - still in high school so she only works part time, but when she’s there she’s working with vamos and val! the cat - the girl’s service animal. it isn’t allowed near the food behind the counter or in the back (only storage back there anyway), but it’s usually nearby

miscellaneous: 

show pony - janitor / handyperson cherri - manages the finances part time (manages finances elsewhere on-location during the rest of his time) neonfuck - a temp who kinda just works wherever they’re needed (usually dishwashing/janitorial work, but cooking too sometimes!) mad gear - customer ❤️ (unemployed)

and here’s some thoughts on the characters and their relationships that I have so far!:

volume sometimes leaves his cash register to hover around vinyl as he works in the kitchen (and flirts). vinyl sometimes leaves the kitchen to lean on volume’s register desk, pretending to buy something for way too long (and flirts). its cute but their supervisors, poison and jet, both hate it.

kobra hates his job. he wanted to work in the main cafeteria which is so much cooler, but poison was working there first so he wasn’t allowed. he’s been here for so long waiting for poison to quit that now he’s the subway manager and this fills him with unending angst. val hates his job too, for no particular reason other than he’s val and this is customer service. on the other hand, the girl isn’t there half the time (high school!!!) and vamos doesn’t take it that seriously (rightfully.... it’s literally just a subway lol), so val and kobra’s vibes tend to overrun the place and honestly walking in there is so hostile emotionally hfjghfgdfhgfd. the plus to this tho is mean customers DO get yelled at by val and/or kobra who r just aching for an excuse to let off their disgruntled steam.

sometimes kobra makes val go mop the seating area to cool off

sometimes vamos goes to use the restroom “for just a minute!!!” but then just visits vaya for like half an hour or more. one time ghoul had vamos start helping out at the salad bar too (and they all had fun lol)

ghoul and vaya are Best friends and they run the Perfect salad bar. all the good vibes r localized there

show pony loves their job cause they really just go from place to place and get to talk to everybody! sometimes they “slack off” a little bit but they’re always done on time anyway so no one really minds

poison and jet have a secret relationship outside of work. no one knows except for kobra who sometimes has to deal with one of his coworkers being in his house in the morning, which is certainly an emotion. one time vaya started a rumor that poison and jet were a thing but everyone was just kinda like “lol that’s be so funny” about it so it passed over.

ok I think thats all I have for now?? thx for reading <3

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Gilgamesh's Bizarre McDonalds Adventure

A short story about Gilgamesh's first experience at McDonalds. A great adventure ensues!!!

It was a blistering hot day within the city; golden rays of sunlight beaming overhead. As Gilgamesh made his way through the bustling masses of humans surrounding his resplendent visage, he caught sight of a rather mundane building, with sparkling golden arches attached to it. Although its architecture was bland- if not entirely disappointing for the king-he appreciated their logo.

"Hoh, what an amusing use of gold that is!" Perching his Gucci brand sunglasses on the bridge of his perfectly-shaped nose, curiosity danced a merry jig within his heart. He would check out this location, poste-haste!

Seas of passers-by split in two, as they gazed in awe at the fashionable king of heroes, mouths agape with wonder. As Gilgamesh soaked within the ecstasy of receiving such arduous attention, he trooped inside of the local McDonalds. He was a man on a mission. As he gazed upon the glowing boards, and begrudgingly joined the queue; he formulated an order within his mind.

'Although one such as I should have no need to wait, I shall exercise patience for now.' Gilgamesh was much more patient than some would perceive him to be. Although he possessed disdain for the laws of the mongrels, he would sometimes abide to them.

Finally. The queue had ever-so-rightfully dispersed, finally giving him the chance to make an order! As Gilgamesh glided towards the counter, his gleaming red orbs widened with horror. Bright orange hair, golden eyes, and a worn-out expression...

Standing right before him was none other than his master, Gudako.

"Hello, how may I collect your order- HOLY SHIT!" Ruby red eyes gazed into amber ones; confusion etched upon both of their faces. "G-GILGAMESH?! WHY ARE YOU AT MCDONALDS?!"

"Heh, you've asked a good question, mongrel," Plonking his arm upon Gudako's worktop, he leans forward; eyes gleaming. "It was nothing but a mere coincidence! Places as inferior as these don't usually garner my attention, but..."

"...You liked the golden arches of the logo, didn't you?" Gudako couldn't help but crack a grin at that.

"You know your king well." It took all of Gudako's strength to stop herself from bursting out into laughter from that.

Lowering her cap so that Gilgamesh couldn't catch her befuddled expression, she sighs. "But to think we'd meet when I'm on shift! That's a funny coincidence."

"If only I had known sooner. I would've taken great pleasure in extorting my connection with you to obtain an endless supply of nuggets!" Realization dawned upon Gilgamesh, as he snapped his fingers. "On that note. I shan't dally any further. Bring me two units of 20-piece chicken nuggets, Gudako!"

"Understood." It took Gudako a monumental amount of effort to stop herself from laughing at the sheer absurdity of this situation. On average, she found him to be utterly frightening; but during times such as these, he was quite fun to be around.

"That'll be USD $10-" A massive golden bar smashed against the counter, as the surrounding customers' eyes popped out of their sockets. "...I only asked for $10..." No matter how many times Gudako tried to pass the gold bar back, Gilgamesh vehemently refused. "B-but, Gilgamesh...W-we can't melt gold at McDonalds, you know..."

"And why should I care? This gold bar is for nobody but you. Take that as payment for providing me with such ample entertainment." Gilgamesh deviously winked as he left the counter, leaving an array of gobsmacked staff and customers behind. "Despite being in such a drab location; today's customer service was well beyond my expectations!!" As he went to collect his order- as fellow staff yelled and cheered as they crowded around the gold- Gudako desperately desired to be swallowed up by the ground.

'W-what the hell...' Gilgamesh really did march to the beat of his own drum sometimes...

|o|

Confidentially cradling two boxes of nuggets within his arms, Gilgamesh was about to make his way towards his seat; until a small figure bashed against his leg.

'Of all the godforsaken things to happen-' Gilgamesh was fully prepared to eviscerate the being who would dare to collide with his leg. However, he rescinded once he caught sight of what it was.

"M-my chicken nuggets...." It was none other than a small child, their nuggets splayed across the floor. "My poor nuggets..." As the child began to burst into tears, Gilgamesh crouched besides them.

"Mongrel." Gilgamesh commanded their attention instantly, as they spun to face him. "You should employ the utmost of caution when traipsing around places such as these." Feeling ashamed, the kid was about to burst into tears again, until Gilgamesh softly placed a hand on their shoulders; his expression warm. "Shh, there's no need to cry."

"B-but sire, my nuggets...They're the highlight of my day..."

"Hoh, is that so?" As the kid nodded their head, the king cackled with laughter. "You possess rather fine tastebuds, young one. Well then, shall I pay you with some nuggets in reparation?" The kid's eyes leapt with joy, as Gilgamesh passed him an entire box of nuggets. "Now, be off."

The kid happily yelled 'thank you!' as they waved and ran back to their table. Although Gilgamesh was a little pained to be passing with his nuggets, he didn't mind lending the child a hand.

However, he wouldn't have to mourn his nuggets for long! Not too soon after, another staff member passed him a new 20 pack of nuggets. "Here you go. The boy's parent wanted to give you a peace offering or something-" Before the staff could finish speaking, Gilgamesh randomly thrust a $10 dollar bill into their hand. "W-whoa, what's this?"

"Your tip. Take it."

It looked like he'd still get to eat 40 nuggets, after all.

|o|

As he finally located an empty table situated by the window, a set of very familiar figures assaulted his vision. A bespectacled purple-haired girl, a man decked in a cursed Hawaiian T-shirt, another character with spiky white hair; and a radiant, red-haired woman were all seated together, sharing a vast array of fast food.

"Oho, look who the cat decided to drag in here today!" Gilgamesh all but exclaimed, as he smirked at the unlucky bundle of servants.

"...I could say the exact same thing." Archer sighed, as he shifted as far away from Gilgamesh as possible, as Mash dropped her fries into her milkshake in shock- Boudicca almost choking on her burger.

"G-geh, Gilgamesh? What the hell are you doing here?!" Lancer Cu's face contorted with displeasure. "Of all the fucking people to appear..."

"And why should I satisfy you with an answer, mongrel?" Gilgamesh's response elicited nothing but sighs. "Let me hazard a guess- that faker over there is the reason why you're all gathered here today."

"That's just like you, to ask us for an answer; without providing one of your own. How classy of you." Archer was practically radiating with sarcasm. Before the two of them could start an argument, Mash cut in.

"Yes, we decided to give Gudako a surprise visit today!" Mash all but beamed. "I'm glad to see senpai working so hard at her job." As her and Boudica openly explained their motives to the king, Archer sighed.

At this rate, he'd never be rid of Gilgamesh.

TO BE CONTINUED....(lmao its only a parody fic)

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 1]

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood

words: 3.8k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 00:43

“The king! The king is dead!”

As soon as the declaration is shouted, there’s a growl of pain, then the unceremonious thump as a body hits the ground.

All around, flames lick at the stone walls, set the sky ablaze. The inky hue of the night is abruptly ruined by a brilliant orange, the smell of burning wood and bodies drifting along with the night’s breeze. The clamoring of swords crashing against each other rings throughout the air, seemingly traveling for miles. Horrified screams and blood-thirsty growls make for a gruesome, twisted melody, one that imprints itself on the brain and promises itself its unholy stay.

Heavy pants, cloudy eyes, a desire for murder.

This is what keeps Prince Shouto pressing forward.

Flanked by two guards, the three scramble through the narrow halls – the hidden passageways hidden behind the castle walls. A mere torch is their only source of light, a pitiful flame compared to the hellstorm raging through the city’s streets. Their movements are rushed, silent; there’s no time to be discussing the finer details of the invasion when the only thing playing on their minds it escaping. Gods be damned if more royal blood be spilt on the stone, seeping through and leaving a burgundy scar.

Despite the silence cloaking them, Shouto grits his teeth, the urge to turn back and fight ever present and growing. That’s his kingdom who’s suffering, hundreds of innocent people dying, suffering. And for what? Power? Wealth? If it were up to him, he’d go back and slaughter those intruding the lands, planting their flags and proclaiming their victory.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Please, my prince, we must keep moving,” the guard in front throws over his shoulder, as if sensing Shouto’s inner turmoil. “We have to get you away immediately.”

Funny how this works, how simple guards think they can control their prince, a member of the royal family. He could easily rip them a new one, put them in their place and insist they stand their ground, but he knows they’re right. There are too many enemies, even by Shouto’s standards. Even if he stayed around and fought, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be slain right there on the spot.

Up ahead, a rickety wooden door comes into view, a heavy bolt holding it shut. The metal creaks as the frontmost guard slides it loose and opens the door. Heavy smoke hangs in the air, slowly spreading towards the surrounding woods and farmlands. Shouto’s heart clenches at the sight, at the putrid odor of death, the sounds of petrified screams. Closing his eyes, he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart, the anger boiling in his blood twinging the outlines of his vision red.

He’s a complete and utter fool for abandoning those who need him most.

Still, he allows the guards to lead him to an awaiting horse, a brilliant beast the color of ivory. Swinging up and onto the saddle with graceful ease, his cloak flutters behind him.

“Go! Now!” the guard with the torch bellows, eyes latching onto a group of enemy soldiers scaling a wall. “Get out of here!”

“You’ll be killed, dammit!” Shouto proclaims, his anger finally boiling over. “I refuse to have anybody else shed their blood!”

“You’re the prince, your highness,” the guard shoots back, both he and the other one drawing their swords. “There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.”

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Shouto hisses, “I can stay and fight.”

“No! You must go!” Before Shouto is given a chance to say anything in return, the guard strikes the horses rear. Letting out a shrill whinny, the horse rears up, landing back down heavily and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Cursing under his breath, Shouto watches over his shoulder as the two guards confront the enemy soldiers. They soon disappear from sight, leaving only the smoldering haze and raging fires encompassing the silhouette of Shouto’s childhood home. As the castle and surrounding city grow smaller and smaller with each impounding trollop of the horse, he can’t tear his eyes away, even long after it disappears from the horizon.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 10:14

Easy does it now, easy does it… Don’t get too close… And… Gotcha!

Snatching his hand away, Zenitsu quickly stashes the pigskin coin purse underneath his cloak. Heh, suckers, the lot of them. Most of them couldn’t tell the difference between their right hand and a horse’s ass, much less when someone steals their coinage. Briskly turning on his heel, he walks away, whistling casually.

It’s so easy.

On the market streets of the town, a large sea of people roam from stall to stall, buying smoked meats, freshly baked breads, the farmers’ latest pickings. It’s a jolly scene, the constant chatter of patrons and high-pitched yelps of young boys trying to direct potential customers to their father’s stalls. Zenitsu grew up on these streets, raised right alongside other peasant boys with no home or family to call their own. Perhaps it’s a sad story, one meant for lonely nights and listening ears, but it’s Zenitsu’s lineage. It’s what made him into what he is today, a thief with deft fingers and a pair of legs that could challenge a horse in a race.

An easy smile comes to his face. He’s long since grown used to the smell of piss and sweat clinging to the cobbled street, the hollow-eyed children staring long after the people carrying baskets and sacks of food. Everything is so horribly imperfect, but this is home. Hell, although he’s making his living in a dishonest way, it’s enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his tummy. And maybe, if he saves up enough coin, roll around in a bed of hay with a large breasted whore.

Sidestepping the crowd, he makes way towards the local tavern (Ye Olde Wife, can you believe that?), breakfast and busty barmaids on the mind. If possible, the patrons inside the tavern are nearly as loud as the ones outside. Kicking the door shut, Zenitsu heads for his usual spot at the bar, sliding onto the wobbly stool and shucking his hood down. Ale and body odor permeate his nose, the smell foul yet welcoming. Nothing is more greeting than sweaty men and alcohol.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the owner’s crackly voice says.  A stout old man with wild hair and a bushy mustache, he’s about as rough as they come, but to Zenitsu, he’s probably the closest thing to family that he’s ever had.

“Oh, come on, Gramps,” Zenitsu says, tapping the bar top with his fingertips. “You love seeing me, eh? I bring you plenty of service-“

“You flirt with the girls in here more than you order anything,” Gramps spits. Even so, he starts to step away, already heading to the kitchen to fetch Zenitsu something to eat. “Ungrateful bastard – it’s a wonder you’re not a father yet.”

“Yet!” Zenitsu calls after him. “Don’t jinx me, Gramps!” Easing back, he turns around, resting his elbows on top of the bar. Now that he’s closer to the kitchens, the smell of succulent meat turning on a spit makes his mouth water and his stomach growl. Gods, he is hungry. While he could easily steal something from the stalls lining the market street, he normally comes to Gramps’ tavern for a proper meal. And yeah, maybe he ogles the barmaids while he’s at it, but it’s merely a dinner and a show for him.

“Oh, shit,” some random man sitting at a nearby table says. “You mean you haven’t heard about the capital?” Along with him sits another man – they’re most likely miners, if their builds and dirty fingernails say anything. Knocking back his cup, the other merely shakes his head. “Them bastards from the north – Nialliv – they stormed it. Took Dinton Keep as their own.”

Now, it’s usually polite to not listen in on others’ conversations, but this is Zenitsu here. For as long as he can remember, his sense of hearing is astronomically better than the average human’s, and it’s actually quite a useful tool when it comes to his particular jobs. But this… The capital city being taken over? How come he hasn’t heard anything before?

“You’re telling me that Dinton Keep isn’t ours? Watch the shite spilling from your mouth,” the other man grumbles.

“Aye, it’s true. Took in the wee hours of this morning, I tell you. Apparently, the king is dead.”

At that, Zenitsu stiffens. The king? Dead?

“Fuck,” the companion curses. “And they haven’t said anything yet?”

The first one shakes his meaty head. “Only a few know, I guess. The messengers probably all got their throats slit. Gods bless their souls. It’d be a miracle if we’re all not dead by the end of the month.”

“How many are dead?”

“Hundreds, I take it. Mostly guards and members of the royal court, probably. No point in killing civilians if you don’t want to clean up the mess.”

“And the prince?”

“Disappeared. Haven’t heard if they found his body or not.”

“Oi,” Gramps barks, slamming a plate down on the bar before Zenitsu.

With a jolt, Zenitsu yelps. Whipping back around, he flashes Gramps with wide eyes. “Gramps,” he whisper-yells, “is it true?”

Cocking a bushy brow, Gramps leans forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Is what true?”

“That the king is dead,” Zenitsu says, slowly. He can hardly believe the words are coming out of his own mouth.

Pointing a thick finger at him, Gramps flashes him a warning look. “It’s not your damn business spreading the news around. People are gonna be in a panic when it goes public.”

Zenitsu pales. “No way…”

“I had a carrier pigeon come in this morning,” Gramps continues, voice tight. “Unless they kick them bastards out of Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp can kiss its ass goodbye.”

Glancing down at the steaming meat and eggs in front of him, Zenitsu’s body immediately says that his appetite is gone.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Roman Sea, off the coast of Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 12:39

“Captain! Land clear up ahead!”

“Well, what the fuck you waiting for? This ship isn’t going to dock itself!” you screech.

The sky above is a limitless blue, not a hint of a cloud in the sky. The sun itself seems in a good mood, as does the waters. Your ship heads towards your homeland gracefully, the waves slapping against the sides in a hello, welcome back. As much as you love sailing and exploring new lands, home forever beckons for you, calls you back with welcoming arms. There’s nothing as relieving as setting foot on familiar land.

Although you’re young, you’re powerful. Already a captain of your own crew, the proud owner of The Pearl Lady, you’re meant to go places and the gods are surely smiling down at you. Granted, the overexposure of sun and salt water may have left your skin permanently freckled and mind scrambled, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a force to be trifled with, and all be damned if they dare challenge you.

Hands settled on the wooden railing, you watch as the rest of your crew scrambles to prepare for docking, lowering the sails and readying the anchor. The coast of Ainanomyrp glimmers under the afternoon sun, truly a sight to behold, but something feels… off. Normally, other boats come to and from the mouth of inland, the capital city of Endeavor being a major port. However, there’s not another boat on the water, not even the small dingeys for fishing.

Your ship glides in smoothly, coming to a gradual stop by an open dock. Your crew pushes the anchor overboard, the salty water giving a final splash as your boat jolts to a stop. Hell, even the docks are unnaturally silent, not even a single ship hand or merchant in sight. All other vessels are docked, their decks bare of any people. Your crew shifts uneasily, clearly noticing the strange lack of other human beings.

“Uh, Captain?” the quartermaster asks you, hand instinctively landing on the butt of his pistol as he glances around, “Should we lift anchor and sail to another port?”

“Like hell we are,” you grunt, narrowing your eyes. Something’s coming. You can feel it.

Stepping away from the railing, you saunter down to the main deck, heading to the side where your crew set the bridge down. The clunk of wood striking wood echoes into the air; instead of it being a relieving sound – a sign that you’re truly home – it’s ominous. It’s only a matter of time before disaster hits.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” you tell your crew, “Something isn’t right.”

“Halt!” an unknown voice calls. Straining your neck forward, you catch sight of a small patrol of guards in dark gray armor clamber down the cobblestone steps leading from the streets to docks. While it’s somewhat of a relief to see actual human beings, you’re immediately on edge, body stiffening. Those are not the given uniforms of Ainamorypan soldiers.

“Fuck,” you grumble, biting the inside of your cheek.

Metal clanking against wooden boards fills the tense atmosphere as the patrol comes up to your ship. The group stands ramrod-straight, faces stoic, eyes sharp. The leader steps forward, neck craning as he looks up at you. “Who goes there?” he barks.

Clicking your tongue, you lean over the side of the ship, elbows resting on the weathered wood. “A bunch of merchants returning home. Everybody’s got to make a living somehow, eh? Now, if you’d kindly fuck off, I’d like to step on some actual dirt for once.”

The guard sneers, expression turning ugly as he flashes yellow teeth. “All incoming and outgoing ships are to be registered. And, as far as I’m concerned, your shitty dingey isn’t on the list.” With a metallic snap of his fingers, one of his followers hands him a clipboard and a hunk of charcoal. “Ship name, captain’s name, date of arrival and planned dismissal.”

At that, you bark out an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? When was this instilled?”

“Just this morning, actually,” the guard snips. “Since I’m feeling merciful, I’ll let you off with a warning just this once. Follow these orders or we’ll have no other option than to imprison you.”

Prison? Seriously? Just who did this dickhead think he’s talking to?

Scoffing, you draw yourself to a full stand, placing your hands on your hips. You could easily pull out your pistol and try to shoot one of the damned guards, but lead balls aren’t going to do much against a full suit of armor. “And I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off.”

The same guard who gave the leader the clipboard and charcoal steps close and leans in, whispering something into the leader’s ear. The leader spares you a single glance, his eyebrow cocking in interest. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the patrol storm the ship, drawing their blades. Your crew readies their own blades and brandishes their pistols, murmuring unsure words.

“Captain (l/n) of The Pearl Lady,” the lead guard says, scribbling it onto his parchment. “Such a pleasure to meet a wanted criminal.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Dinton Keep’s dungeons, Ainamoryp, 492, May 3rd, 13:00

“Oi, oi! Keep your grubby hands off of me!” you bark, shoving yourself against the guards holding you by the biceps.

“Shut your damn trap, you filthy pirate,” the guard on your right seethes, his putrid breath clogging your nostrils. “Thinking you can just waltz right into Endeavor? What are you, an idiot?”

“Far as I was concerned, Endeavor used to be leagues more friendly than this horse shit.”

“I told you to shut up,” the guard barks. Lifting a hand, he cracks up alongside the back of your skull, leaving a thrumming ache. The other guard merely stays silent as he shoves you into the other’s arms, fishing a set of keys from his side and opening the door to a cell. “Fucking rot for all I care,” the guard spits, pushing you into the dingy space.

You sputter as you crash onto the jagged rock, your palms scraping against the surface. You hiss in pain as the guards slam the gate shut and lock it. The one who mocked you takes off with a bark of laughter as the other simply follows behind. “Bloody bastards,” you grunt as they disappear from sight. “I oughta wring their necks and hang them from the bow.”

“Are you alright?” a new voice speaks.

With a screech, you fling yourself to the side, your hip screaming in pain as a sharp rock digs into the flesh. You instinctively reach for your sword, only to be left blubbering curse after curse after remembering that the guards confiscated all of your weapons. Perched on the windowsill sits a boy no older than you, head topped with messy green curls and a face adorned with a sea of freckles.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” the stranger proclaims, waving his hands frantically before him. Hopping down from the wall, he holds his hands in front of him, much like he’s encountering a vicious wild beast. Which isn’t totally wrong, but still.

“Bullshit you didn’t! I’ll kick your ass, mate!” Scrambling onto your feet, your press your back against the cold stone wall, bloody hand clutching your bruised hip.

“I swear it! It’s just… Well…. Look, your hands are bleeding,” the stranger says, turning his hands so his palms are facing upwards. “Let me treat them.”

Your face curls into a snarl. “And why would I do that?”

“I’m a healer,” he continues, stepping forward and snatching your wrist. You yelp at the sudden contact and try to rip your hand away, but his grip is strong. Now that he’s up close and personal, you can’t deny the fact that he’s tall and muscular, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and exposing the veins and scars riddling his forearms.  

Holding your wrist with one hand, the other hovers above your scraped, bloody palm. A golden light emits from his hand, casting a warm glow over your own. Ah, so this guy is a magic wielder. While it isn’t uncommon for people to practice magic, you yourself have never taken an interest in it. Magic can be a finnicky force to deal with, and one who cannot rein in its power may be subjected to a world full of hurt.

With a sigh, you keep your emotions under control and allow this stranger to continue his treatment. For one, this guy is healing you for free, and secondly, he appears as though he can easily throw you through the stone wall with little effort.

“There,” he says once he’s finished, gingerly retracting his hands and flashing you a tiny smile. “It’s all better now, see?”

Staring down at your hands, you flex them into fists, noticing how whatever tension that was in them had disappeared along with the scrapes. Magic can truly be a wonderous thing, but in the wrong hands… Well, things don’t turn out as pretty.

“I don’t get it,” you say, sidestepping the stranger and planting yourself on the pile of dirty hay strewn about the floor, “why is a healer in a dungeon, of all places?”

At your question, the stranger visibly perks up. He follows your movements, getting onto the floor and sitting across from you. “I guess a proper introduction is needed, huh?” he says, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. “My name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya. It’s a pleasure!”

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you snap. “I asked you why you’re here, not who you are.”

At that, Izuku huffs and physically deflates. “You remind me a lot of Kacchan…”

“By the gods, do you know how to answer a simple question? You know what, don’t even answer that-“

“The king is dead,” Izuku says, cutting you off. His large eyes don’t hold their friendly glow anymore, but rather one of determination and anger. “He was killed last night.”

You blink rapidly at him, your mind throwing itself in for a loop. Wait, wait, the king is dead? How is that even possible? The king isn’t a weakling, and you’ve heard stories of him being a powerful fire sorcerer. But now that you think about it, it would explain the change in guards, the lack of people filling the once busy docks and streets…

You inhale sharply. “How?” you ask, voice small.

“Forces from Nialliv intruded the country last night and took Dinton Keep by force. People were…” Izuku stops, wets his lips. “People are gone,” he finally forces out. “The king is dead, the prince is nowhere to be seen, and all of Ainamoryp is going to lose hope.” Wringing his hands, his gaze drops. “I was here when the intrusion happened. I was fighting off enemy soldiers with all my might, but I couldn’t save the city. People are dead because I didn’t work hard enough.”

“And then you were captured,” you say. “But why not killed?”

“They found out I was a healer – well, I specialize in herbology, but the point still stands. They had men and women on their side who needed medical attention, and I was simply another pair of hands to them,” Izuku answers dryly. “They threw me in here once everybody was treated.”

“Then why’d you help them? They’re the enemy, you fool. You wanna know what I would’ve done? Slit every single last one of their throats.” Shaking your head, you lean back against the wall and laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “When you have the opportunity to fuck your opponent over, you take it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Izuku snaps, clenching his fists in his lap. “I can’t stand seeing others hurt. I’m a healer, for gods’ sakes. Not everyone is some filthy, selfish pirate like you.”

Snapping your attention back to him, you send him a steely glare.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku hastily says, reaching up and smacking himself on the forehead, “I didn’t mean that-“

“You said what you said,” you interject. “And you know what? You’re right. I’m so fucking filthy and selfish that I’m the captain of The Pearl Lady. I bathe in blood and gold, you pathetic little twat. And I like it. So, do us both a favor, shut your damn trap, and leave me the hell alone.”

Izuku audibly gulps, his hands falling limp in his lap. You almost want to laugh at him; whenever somebody hears of your infamous title, their reactions are all the same. Despite the stigma towards pirates, you’re still pretty damn powerful, and your crew voted you as captain for a reason. Turning away from Izuku, you settle onto your side, willing for either sleep to take over or for Izuku to magically disappear.

Your quartermaster was right – you should’ve lifted anchor and docked somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

[artificialqueens]

On The Ground (Rosénali) - Moonshot

A/N: So… Guess who is back after a year of not writing fics? Yours truly! What can I say? Rosénali is that powerful of a ship. As always, I hope eveyone enjoys this fic. Feel free to let me know what you think… Who knows, there might be a follow up to this little fluff in the future! Little side note: this is a lesbian au where most of the s13/s12 girls appearing are cis-female, however Mik is still a trans man in the fic.

Summary: The diner girl!Denali x street singer!Rosé AU based on Blackpink’s Rosé’s solo music that nobody asked for!

ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/30267687

Denali stared at the round clock above the entrance of the diner.

4:57 PM. 

Three more minutes until her shift was over.

Three more minutes until the girl who had been a fixed character in her dreams would come from around the corner, set up her guitar, greet the passersby before starting her set for the evening like she did every Wednesday.

“So, gorge, are you going to ask the champagne girl out today, or are you just going to keep on creepily staring at her from afar?”, her coworker, Kade - or as everyone called him, Mik - appeared next to her with an empty tray.

“Her name is Rosé, not champagne girl!”, Denali rebutted, “and also, for the record, I don’t just… stare. I just happen to like appreciating her set without bothering her! It’s not like she was flirting with me that one time”.

“Did I just hear our Nali denying her crush on that pink-haired singer, again?”, Olivia, who was busy running the cash register, chimed in.

“Girl, I think we should start betting against her and maybe we’ll make more money than what they can pay us here!”, Mik joked as he washed some of the dishes in the sink.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes, ignoring her two best friends and focusing on the performer’s much-anticipated arrival.

Denali didn’t believe in love at first sight but after the first time Rosé and her guitar had shown up on the other side of the road from Tamisha’s Diner, she couldn’t think about anything else. 

There was just something about the other girl that had the Alaskan girl enamored.

The first - and so far only - time she had talked to Rosé was out of necessity as the other girl and who she assumed were her two best friends - the diner girls had dubbed them ‘Pastel Powerpuff girls’ - had decided to dine in just as Denali’s shift at the register had started.

“Hi! Did you enjoy our diner?”, the skater had put on her best smile, not quite able to meet the gaze of the taller girl as she typed out the receipt.

“Oh, sure, the skating gig is cute, the food’s great, and the service… isn’t too bad either,” Denali could see from the corner of her eye the smirk on the pink-haired girl.

“Rosie! Quit flirting with every cute girl that breathes and hurry up or Jan and I are leaving you here, the Uber is going to be here in 2 minutes!”, the blue-haired girl went on with the other girl in the friend group while ‘Rosie’ rolled her eyes at them.

“Sorry about Lagoona, she has the tact of an elephant on rollerskates,” the taller girl joked.

“O-Oh, no problem. So, your total is 20,04$, will you be paying in cash or card? Also, are you splitting the bill?”

“Since dumb and dumber over there already left, I’ll just pay everything with my card,” she replied taking out her purse and taking out her credit card, “here you go, angel”.

Denali tried her best not to blush at the sudden pet name, maintaining her on-the-clock persona as she brought out the card reader. She quickly finished up the operation and handed the pink-haired girl her card back with the receipt, “I just need a quick signature here and you’re free to go to your friends”.

‘Rosie’ scribbled down her signature - she learned her actual name was Rosé, classy yet slightly worrying - and left a tip for her. 

A 10$ tip for her.

“Gorge, she left you a 10$ tip, she was basically asking for your hand in marriage”, Mik reminded her, his eyes darting around the half-empty diner. 

He nodded his head to his left where Denali saw another one of her co-workers sharing a milkshake with her girlfriend, giggling like teenagers, “I’m just saying. If Utica managed to end up dating that self-proclaimed ebony enchantress over there, you got a chance with wine girl”, he ended with his trademark L.A vocal fry.

Denali knew Mik had a point, but as she was about to reply, she heard the familiar sound of a guitar starting a new song. Her eyes glanced back at the clock.

5:14 PM

Damn, she had missed the beginning of the set.

The Alaskan girl didn’t lose any more time as she clocked out, skates still on her feet as she zoomed out of the diner.

“Aaaaand she’s gone!”, Olivia commented, turning her head to Mik, “Do you think this time is the good one?”

“Well, if she doesn’t finally go after her, I might as well go after her myself!”

Denali reached the usual crowd that had already formed around Rosé, trying her best to blend in and not be seen by the singer while still getting a good view of the set.

“Well, aren’t you guys a lovely crowd!”, the pink-haired singer smiled as she got ready for the next song, “I’ve got one last song for today and this is going to be the first time I’ll be performing it, so, don’t hate it too much!”, she chuckled as she checked her guitar before turning her head back to the mic stand, “This is On The Ground, I’m Rosé and I hope you’ve enjoyed the set! Feel free to drop your tips in the guitar case!”

Denali couldn’t take her eyes off Rosé when she heard the guitar’s first chord paired with the honey-like vocals.

My life’s been magic seems fantastic

I used to have a hole

in the wall with a mattress

It’s funny when you want it

Suddenly you have it

You find out that your gold’s just plastic

The black-haired girl quickly pulled out her phone, opened her voice memo app, and hit record. She wanted to treasure the magic Rosé’s voice brought. 

What she failed to notice while she was so into the song was a pair of hazel eyes settling on her as the song reached its climax.

A couple of days later, Denali had just finished with her teaching job at the local ice rink when she spotted Olivia on the railings. 

“The suspicious lack of a certain pink-haired girl makes me think that you still haven’t asked her out” she heard the younger girl say as she skated her way to her.

“You’ll never let it go, won’t you, Liv?”

“Not when I see that you like her and, from what I’ve seen, she is at least interested in you. Mik tried to ask her out yesterday after your shift was over,” the other girl replied.

Denali furrowed her brows, “Wait, he was serious about asking her out? I thought he was just joking!”

“If you don’t act on your cute pink crush, you can’t expect everyone else to stop for you,” Olivia reasoned, “if it’s of any help, Mik did say that, and I quote ‘she didn’t want a piece of this fine ass’”, she finished, air quoting their co-worker.

“To be honest, the dude’s barely got an ass compared to me,” Denali muttered, but her best friend managed to catch it.

“Well, as Symone said, you do have a fat ass,” Olivia commented, causing both of them to laugh out loud.

She continued, “Point still stands though, you gotta do something or you might just end up regretting not doing anything about it”.

The dark-haired girl sighed, “I know, I’m just… scared to get hurt because she seems so cool and unreachable, and I’m just so… me?”, she confessed, resting her arms on the rails.

“Give it a chance, Nali,” Olivia replied, laying her hand on the skater’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, “And just in case, if she fucks you over, we’ll just unleash Kandy on her!”, she added, making Denali chuckle.

“Girl, if she knew you said that…”

“She would do absolutely nothing because she’s too busy chasing after that Joey guy”, she didn’t miss a beat with her reply, giving her a knowing look, “Almost forgot to ask, are you coming later to the club with the others?”

Denali shook her head, “No, sorry. I don’t feel like clubbing today, I’ll just skate a bit more and then go home to watch some Netflix”.

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, “You do you, girl. But think about what I said, okay?”

She gave her best friend a small smile, “Thanks, Liv. See you at work?”

The younger girl nodded and left Denali to her thought as she exited the room. The black-haired skater turned her head back to the rink, noticing that only a few people were left on the ice. 

She took a deep breath, putting her earbuds back in and looking through her phone to decide on what song to use for her last routine of the day. Her eyes fell on the voice memo app, immediately reminding herself of the recording she had taken just a few days prior. She hadn’t even listened to it since she had recorded it.

It wasn’t a clean recording, she could hear the sounds of the city and the people around her, but she closed her eyes and focused on Rosé’s voice, letting it guide her. 

The music fully took her over as she performed her usual stunts.

I’m way up in the clouds

And they say I’ve made it now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the ground

She found herself in the center of the rink, the bridge of the song was blasting in her ears. She smiled to herself as she started to spin, gradually picking up speed while Rosé’s high notes were all she could focus on.

Just drove by your house

So far from you now

But I figured it out

Everything I need is on the

Everything I need is on the ground

The recording stopped abruptly, she remembered how she had to bolt away, almost missing her bus home. 

Denali could hear her heavy breathing, suddenly aware again that she wasn’t alone. But she had made up her mind.

She was going to talk to Rosé the following Wednesday. 

That Wednesday the diner was busier than usual, giving Denali barely a moment to think, let alone realize she was missing Rosé’s set outside.

She glanced at the clock.

5:26 PM

Shit.

She turned her head and looked outside the diner’s big windows and saw that the pink-haired girl was starting to gather her things.

“Miss Iman just left, go to her! We’ll cover for you and we are not letting you get back in unless you got a date!”, Olivia said quietly enough for just her to hear.

Denali couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. She grabbed some of the tips that she had made before she bolted outside, faintly hearing the cheering of her friends.

As she reached Rosé on the other side of the road, the singer’s back was facing her, she didn’t seem to have noticed Denali yet.

The black-haired girl took a deep breath, just like she had done on the ice rink, and let the tips fall into the still open guitar case.

The noise of falling change was what made Rosé turn around, a surprised look on her face as she registered Denali’s face.

“Denali?”

Gosh, she could hear the other girl say her name all day.

Wait.

“How do you know my name?”, Denali asked slightly confused.

Rosé didn’t reply but simply pointed at the waitress’s chest.

Oh, right. The nameplate on her uniform.

“That and also I tend to remember a pretty face when I see one,” she added, now her attention fully on the shorter girl.

“Oh, yeah, right”, she fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing where to look, “Uhm, I just wanted to say that you have a really beautiful voice. You can consider me your first fan when you make it big”.

Rosé smiled at her and Denali couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile she had. 

The singer turned back to her stuff, shuffling things around and leaving the brunette to her thoughts. She wanted to ask the taller girl out but felt all her courage leave her body.

Way to go, Nali.

“Well, Uhm, I think I should-”, she started but she was stopped by the pink-haired girl, who had finished packing everything up.

“Here, this is for you”.

It was a jewel case cd, a picture of Rosé in a very 80s inspired attire on the cover with pink marker writing across the front.

‘To Denali

My first (and hopefully not last) fan

     Rosé xo’    

  It was signed with a small rose doodle next to Rosé’s name and, much to Denali’s surprise, a phone number along with the phrase ‘put it to good use’.

She looked up to find the other girl staring at her, her guitar case strapped on her back. She gave her a wink and started walking towards the subway.

Denali stood there for what felt like forever as she watched Rosé disappear in between the crowd of people roaming the streets. 

She looked back down at the cd, committing the number to memory. She turned around to look at the back, her eyes were drawn to the tracklist. 

She smiled when she saw On The Ground. 

Finally, she didn’t have to listen to a shitty phone recording to enjoy it. 

“Wait, what? You had recorded it all secretly and shady, mama?”

Rosé’s laugh filled the room as Denali tried to hide her face on the other girl’s bare chest.

“You’re an ass! I just wanted to use it for one of my skating routines”, she muttered, causing her girlfriend to laugh even harder.

“I find it cute that I’m not even famous and my music has already been pirated!” she commented, “I’m already halfway there to stardom, baby girl,” she added, kissing the top of Denali’s head.

The shorter girl groaned as she hid the increasing blush on her cheeks, rolling her body so that she was on top of the pink-haired girl.

“Well, miss Rosé, is it pirating if it was for personal pleasure only?”, Denali teased, running her hands upwards on the naked skin, slowly lowering herself until her face was inches away from her girlfriend’s.

She felt Rosé’s hands take a firm hold of her behind, “Oh angel, I’ll show you personal pleasure,” the singer replied, eliminating the little space left between their lips as Denali brought her hands to cup the older girl’s face.

Rethinking about those lyrics Rosé had written months prior, Denali knew she was right, she did have everything she needed on the ground.

It was to be right there with Rosé.

[haberdashing]

Go To The Mirror, Boy!

Post-MAG 200, Martin has an unexpected encounter while going through his daily routine.

on AO3

It hadn't been all that hard for Martin to find a job in this new world, really, even in the middle of London, even without any paperwork to his name. It wasn't the first time he'd had to seek out jobs that didn't ask too many questions, after all, jobs that mostly just wanted warm bodies that did as they were told and paid in cash. They looked at him a little funny, sure, and Martin could imagine any number of reasons why, but he knew better than to pry about the details.

He was starting to get into a routine now. For the first few months he'd brought food from the flat that he was beginning to tentatively call home because it was cheaper than the alternative, but now he'd started eating out on Mondays (as a way to make the start of the work week less painful) and Fridays (as a reward for making it through the week) at some of the cheaper restaurants near his current job site.

Today was a Friday, and on today's lunch break he had decided to check out a little café that had caught his eye a few weeks back, an unassuming hole in the wall that offered a little of everything and didn't charge a fortune for it, going off of the menu out front.

The workers all gave him a warm smile as he entered, and one of them even waved at him--were they all really that friendly, he wondered, or just that desperate for customers? Probably the latter, Martin figured from his own experience working in food service, but it was hard to know for sure.

He looked at the menu and the food on display for a long moment before deciding on a ready-made slice of vegetarian pizza and getting a cup of ice water to go with it, and all throughout the transaction the cashier and the other workers behind the counter kept up with those wide smiles. Honestly, it was to the point where Martin was getting a bit nervous, starting to remember how often in his past a smile had concealed something far worse...

Then, as the cashier handed over his food, they said in a conversational tone, "Boss let you out a few minutes early today, huh? Must be nice."

"Wh-"

Martin didn't have time to finish his thought, though, because right at that moment the bell on the café's door rang out, and in walked... well, in walked himself.

It wasn't a perfect mirror image, truth be told. The man walking up to the counter was missing the scar on his neck, still had hair that was a bright and untainted red (and noticeably shorter than Martin kept it these days to boot), his skin was a bit less pale and his shoulders a bit more slouched... but there was no mistaking that the man walking up to the counter looked uncannily like him, as if they were twins.

Martin knew the reality of the situation, though. Honestly, being twins would be a lot easier to explain than the truth.

Martin took a seat at a table off to the side and began to eat, though he kept glancing at his doppelganger as the man ordered--also getting a slice of vegetable pizza and a cup of ice water, as it happened. Martin wasn't sure if meeting him was a good idea, though the expression on his face (and that of several of the workers) made it clear that he'd noticed the connection, so he figured he would leave the decision up to his other self to make.

The man that looked almost exactly like him didn't hesitate to claim the seat across from him, or to speak up once he'd gotten himself settled.

"...I don't suppose you've heard any weird family rumors about being switched at birth?" The voice was the same as his own, too, and though the man sounded awfully unsure of himself, it was hard to know whether that was a personality trait or just a side effect of the strange situation he'd found himself in.

Martin laughed a little as he shook his head. "Can't say that I have, no. You?"

"No dice." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "D'you mind getting to know each other a bit, in case people end up getting us confused down the line or something?"

"Fine by me. I work a few blocks from here, have for some months now. The name's Martin Blackwood."

His other self let out a surprised exhale, and Martin had to stifle the laugh that started to bubble up in response. "You're joking."

"Don't tell me. Same name, too?"

"Right in one. First and last. What are the odds?"

The odds weren’t that bad, really. Martin should have figured that there would probably be another him out there somewhere in London, working the same sort of menial jobs... but he didn't think sharing that information, getting into how he was from an alternate dimension and had probably helped unleash cosmic horrors into this in one, was his best move here. Instead, Martin just shook his head again and said, "That's wild."

"You're telling me."

The two ate in silence for a moment before Martin worked up the courage to ask his other self a question that had been on his mind since they first locked eyes on one another.

"I wonder if, if we've got anything else in common, like work history, or mutual friends... You wouldn't happen to know a, a Jonathan Sims, would you?"

The other Martin gulped down a bite of pizza, his eyes bulging out. "Jonathan Sims?"

"Yeah, that's the one, is, is that a yes?"

His other self's eyes narrowed, though there was no real fire to their stare. "How do you know my prick of a neighbor?"

"It's... it's a long story, really. So he's your neighbor, then?" A hint of shaky laughter sneaked its way into Martin's voice as he spoke. Part of him wanted to refute that Jon--this world's Jon--was a prick, but honestly... honestly, that wasn't a point he was willing to argue, even if the man had ended up growing on him quite a lot over the years.

"He is, and he keeps sending me these passive-aggressive noise complaints! First he threatened to send an army of cats after me if I didn't stop my dog from barking--I still don't know if that was meant as some sort of bizarre joke or what--and then he offered me harmonica lessons, of all things, but only if I stop playing loudly enough he can hear it through the walls! What's his deal?"

Martin had never gotten a dog, though he had longed to have one of his own all his life, and while he'd picked up a cheap, dusty harmonica at a thrift store once on a whim, he'd never actually worked up the nerve to try playing the thing. Little differences there, facts he quietly filed away for future reference... but that wasn't the most important thing now, was it?

"I don't know if I can explain his whole deal in the course of one lunch break, but..." Martin couldn't help but break out into a grin. "I really think you should take him up on those harmonica lessons."

[trillian-anders]

true love

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: fluff && smut, bucky being a cheeky little shit and soft boy

word count: 2.7k

description: stripper au; bucky is a tease and honestly just such a gooey romantic. just a little snapshot. 

A strip club before hours. Inside you’d find the dancers stretching, practicing new routines and a loop of the same song over and over again until they were satisfied or being forced to move onto something else. The servers are wiping down tables, setting up for bachelorette parties and straightening the chairs around the main stage. The host was cleaning the mirrors and the front door with Windex, knowing that they would just be covered with prints from hands and fingers an hour into the night.

The bar was being stocked, backup bottles. Fruit was being cut and sangria being prepped. Gallons of it. The clientele loved sangria. The cocktail of the night, special for the bride to be prepped for the bachelorette party, paid for in advance by the bottle. A sugar bomb of midori sour and vodka, cherries and club soda. Neon green and toxic, it made you gag just mixing it together.

It was the same thing every night. Another bachelorette party, another batch mixed drink, another stack of ones ready to be switched out for bigger bills the clients needed to break in order to stuff those dollar bills in the g-string of one of the many handsome performers that would take the stage tonight.

A destination strip club under the same corporation that owned Magic Mike, just on the east coast. It would be busy. But you and the other three bartenders were ready, the money was good here. Too good for you to ever consider leaving. And since the clientele was made in its entirety women and gay men, you felt safe working there. No sleazy guy on his sixth bud lite wanting to grab your ass as you cleaned up after his spilled beer. Granted some of the clients were still hellish, but you’d take not getting groped over being sexually harassed by bar patrons any day.

The lights would drop low soon, music pumping through the speakers as the DJ finishes setting up his booth. The endless grind from 8pm to 3am that would leave you ready for some diner food and bed.

“Boys!” You call, “What do you want?” Allowed a start of work drink, you called to the men standing on the stage.

“Anything you wanna give me sugar.” You glare at the first man to respond, his cheeky grin knowing how much you hated it when he called you sugar, how patronizing.

“Okay, everyone but Bucky,” You laugh, “What do you want?” The man in question slipping off the stage to walk over and help distribute shots.

“Why are you always so mean to me?” Pouting and arms crossed on the bar. You roll your eyes pouring the requests of green tea shots across the board. And an extra-large one for you and your favorite performer.

“Why are you always so annoying?” A rebuttal. But he loved it. He always does. Your shot glass clinking against his, tapping on the bar top and shot back in two.

“I love you.” He hums, stealing a kiss. The tip of his tongue brushing your bottom lip softly before pulling away and setting his shot glass in yours.

“I love you too.” A shared grin. “Have fun tonight.”

“Oh I will.” He’s cheeky, but it’s a part of him that you found so endearing.

A story you’re sure you’d tell the grandkids, how you met him in the first place. Back when you first started working here. He’d already been performing for a while. Back when you were waiting tables and having to deal with the sloppy drunk clients without a buffer of service bar in between.

Truly romantic how he’d been grinding himself against a woman in a bridal sash and giving you the same cheeky grin that he gives you now. You watched him grip himself through the silk thong and tripped and spilled your tray over a table and all the clients sitting there. An order to go get some air and you cried in the alley behind the building thinking that you were going to get fired and when his set was finished he came looking for you.

“They’re not going to fire you,” He soothed, pulling you into his arms, “You’re gonna be just fine.” You choked out nasty sobs into his chest, the thin zip hoodie he was wearing doing nothing to disguise the firm bare flesh underneath, you maybe pretended to have the need to be held a little longer than you actually did.

That incident was something he carefully held over your head to this day, a funny jab, especially after a night of seeing stars and loud moans. The paint chipped and wall worn where the headboard slammed into it. He wouldn’t paint over it as a matter of pride. A story of his sexual prowess and ability to bend you in half and make you cum so hard that you blackout or cry split on his dick.

He’d convinced you to go back into the club after you calmed down, he bought you a drink after the shift had ended, and then ate you out on his couch after you’d had pancakes at the diner below his apartment. And you’d been in love ever since.

That sick, ooey-gooey, no you hang up kind of love.

“You guys are so gross.” Nat bumped her hip against yours, grabbing the remaining shot glasses and sitting them in the dishwasher. You laugh.

The night began with body paint and blacklights. A steady pump of bass as each performer took the stage, they made their rounds around the room. Back curtains closing for private dances. The bar was full and service bar was popping, the tickets endless. The tip jar stuffed full. A good night. As bachelorette parties often were. They would take up a nice little section, the rest of the walk-ins and birthday parties, etc. taking up the rest of the space.

You could feel his eyes on you, the little games he liked to play at work. He knew you would look at him. The way he danced on stage, sinking down to let someone stick a dollar on his hip. The way he grabbed himself to the squeals of women.

The fucking tease, tugging his lip and meeting your eye. A playful smirk. Watching you shake a drink.

The first time he played this game was the day after he made you cum on his tongue, then his fingers, then his cock. Twice. As you wait tables, he would give you that little smirk, the grind of his hips, a brush against you as you walked around him with your tray. A playful tug on your skirt.

It would end with his back on the wood floor of his apartment, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise while you rode yourself to orgasm. Knees red and sore. And continue after eating a snack on his kitchen floor, your back now on the linoleum and your knees pressed to your chest while you dug your fingernails into his biceps and down his back. Something hastily fixed with concealer for his next performance.

Your friends outside of work didn’t quite understand how you could deal. “How could you be okay with him grinding himself over other people all night?” But you knew one thing more than anything else,

Bucky Barnes was such a simp.

He fucking loved you. And you knew it. He would never let you forget it. Bucky Barnes was the most affectionate, needy, clingy, I would die for you and all you have to do is ask kind of guy. He was the kind of guy to tell you that he missed you when you just went to the store. The kind of guy that would hop in the shower with you just because he wanted to wash your hair.

“I’m not worried.” You would laugh, “Not in the slightest.” And you knew you didn’t have to be. If the way he would hop up on your bar and tug on your hair mid dance was anything to say, him stuffing bills into your bra while you let a girl do a body shot out of his belly button. You didn’t care as much as those dollars and groping hands on his thick thighs you loved to ride would be paying your rent later.

These clients may be groping him now, but later on it’s your thighs that his head will be between.

It’s their money that will be sitting on your living room floor while both of you unwrinkled the freshly washed money. Their money you would use to buy groceries and pay for your portion of the family vacation you were going on in a few months with the Barnes clan.

The shift ends and you’re left cleaning up. With three other pairs of hands it’s quick work, but burning the ice takes a minute, long enough for Bucky to already be sitting down in front of the bar and sorting your tips out for you, sipping on an after shift drink the two of you were sharing.

“We going to Norma’s?” As the other men sunk down behind the bar, a few waving their goodbyes on their way out the door.

“Sam.” Bucky looked at his friend, “We go to Norma’s every night and every night you ask if we are going.”

“It’s because he likes that waitress.” Nat grinned, flipping the dishwasher on to run the bar mats. A glare from Sam,

“I love that waitress.” The bumbling idiot fawned over her and always tipped her $50 on his $8 patty melt. A shared laugh,

“You’ve asked her out, how many times now?” Steve, thankful for the leftover sangria in front of him, took a sip.

“Just like four, five maybe.” Bucky lifted the pint glass, salt lining the rim and a few granules left on his bottom lip. “This margarita is good sweetheart.” A recipe you found online, something new you’d wanted to try. You hum, taking a sip and nodding. “She doesn’t like you.” Directed at Sam. “You need to stop making her job so difficult, you’re a creep.”

“Am I a creep?” Sam looks between you and Nat. The two of you sharing a look and nodding.

“No one wants to get hit on while they’re working.” You laugh, “That’s all.” He huffs, leaning against the back of the bar stool.

“You guys got any of that neon shit left?” The last little bit of the bachelorette slosh at the bottom of the Cambro. Poured in a glass for him with an apologetic smile.

“I already burned the ice.” He muscled it down.

Bucky’s hand in your back pocket with you tucked into his side you entered the familiar diner and slipped into your usual booth, a playful squeeze to your ass before you sunk down next to each other. Sam, Nat, and Steve across.

His hand settles on your thigh as the waitress Sam was in love with brought over two pitchers of water and glasses, more to make her job easier because these boys were thirsty at the end of the night after performing for hours on end.

A minute later she’d return with a couple sodas and take the order. Sam looking dutifully down at his phone and trying to avoid her eyes.

“You can act like a normal person.” You laugh, our leg going across Bucky’s thigh. “You’re acting like even more of a weirdo.”

“Just relax.” Nat’s hand smoothed over Sam’s arm and he lets out a deep breath. “Don’t be weird.” Easier said than done, he took the fact that you told him not to flirt with her as erasing his whole personality.

“You’ve ruined him.” Steve sipped his water, “The both of you.” A pout to stern Dad-Steve, and he rolled his eyes with a smirk, leaning against the booth and throwing an arm over the back. “He’ll never be able to perform again.”

“Fuck all of you.” Sam glared as peals of laughter broke out at the table. A shift as you felt Bucky’s fingers play with the hem of your shorts. Dipping under a little bit. Your hand slips down and grabs his, pulling his hand away with a playful glare.

“Stop.” Whispered between you as Sam pretended to cry and Nat seemed about done with it.

“I wanna play.” A kiss on your lips. You shake your head and roll your eyes, directing your attention back to your friends.

“Later.”

Later would find him on his back lips red bitten and swollen from kissing as you yank his jeans down his legs, leaving him in just his briefs, the hard outline of his cock pressing against them. Your shorts and panties tugged down your legs, crawling over him to hover over his face. His arms wrapping around your thighs and bringing you down to his mouth.

The grind of your hips on his tongue and the rough stubble burning your thighs. Those moans vibrating against your clit, panting moans coming from your mouth as you grip the headboard and find the friction your need to cum. Working out your aftershocks on his tongue.

A shift of position would find your back against the mattress, your legs over his arms and hooked into his elbows, the blunt head of his cock circling your entrance with the teasing roll of his hips. His mouth against yours, sucking on your tongue and tugging your bottom lip between his teeth.

He starts off slow. A gasp into his mouth as he bottoms out, the tip of him brushing your cervix before he pulls almost all the way out, playing with short and fast thrusts against your g-spot. This was his major source of pride, having you drooling and stupid with lust under him, eyes rolling and nails digging into his back, clawing at his biceps, twisted in the sheets by your head while he rolls one of your nipples on his tongue.

The headboard slamming as you gush around his cock, the signal he needs to start thrusting in deeper to chase his own pleasure. Leaning back onto his heels and pressing your legs together, wrapping his arm around them and laying a kiss to your ankle. His red mouth panting as his hips slapped against yours. Your fingers dipping between your bodies to slap against your clit a couple times, the pleasure being too much. He pushes your hand out of the way, hand laying over your mons and thumb pressing against your clit, moving in tight circles.

“So fucking good for me baby.” A pant against your calf. “One more.” A groan, “Just one more.” You sob from the over-sensitivity as he brought you to one more orgasm, the towel laid out on the bed being put to good use as you squirt on his cock. His hips not relenting until you feel him cum, your legs shaking on his shoulders.

A kiss to your ankles. His hands massaging your legs as you come down. He lays himself on top of you, shifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he meets your lips once, twice, soft, “I love you.” And then with his head on your chest. You reason in that moment, and in every moment, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Finding the club was the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You’re just so handsome.” Your hand on your fist, resting your elbow on the table, looking at him in admiration.

He grins around the lip of his coffee cup and softly massages your foot that was in his lap. The morning found you in the same diner as the night previous, enjoying what would be lunch for other people, but breakfast for the two of you.

“You’re just so beautiful.” His hand meeting yours on the table, a soft squeeze. “I love you.” Bringing his hand to your lips,

“I love you too.”

[yoshichao]

the Smashers and their Host - Chapter ??? Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary:  You’re an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You’ve been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[hi a year ago i was writing a chapter about characters getting sick but then a pandemic happened, making this no longer as fun to write. as a result i’m not going to be posting this one for awhile... but i’m going to share the beginning portion of it anyways. hope you enjoy?]

"Room service!" you call out, peeking into the room with a friendly smile and a tray in your hands. Upon your arrival, Marth sits up in his bed and tries to offer a smile in return... but it is visibly weak, marred by puffy eyes and a flushed face.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise." The Altean prince's voice sounds different from what you're used to. It sounds like he has a stuffed nose... which he does, of course. "If anyone was to be bringing me soup, I would have expected it to be Peach."

You step fully into the room, nudging the door shut behind you with your hip before making your way over to the bed where the prince lies. "It was Peach's idea to make soup for everyone," you confirm, "but after we started delivering it to people, I think the full brunt of the illness hit her too and I told her to go lay down."

Upon discovering that over half the Smashers residing in your mansion had come down with a cold, you took it upon yourself to be a good host and play a part in helping everyone make a full recovery. Of course, having lived alone and illness-free for god-knows-how-long, you were a bit at a loss at what to do... and thankfully Peach was all-too-happy to lend a hand. You recall she seemed tired from the beginning but did her very best to hide it, and an hour and a cauldron of hot soup later, the exhaustion seemed to hit the princess all at once. It took some doing, but you eventually managed to convince her that you and the rest of the team could take it from there. She (and Samus, who was rooming with her while mansion repairs were still being done) was one of the first people you delivered to, and her warm, grateful smile was enough to convince you that you could do this. You can trek across the mansion for hours to deliver supplies to forty or so different people all day.

Even with your handy "shortcuts", it's more draining than you thought.

"Oh dear." Marth chuckles weakly at your explanation. "Thinking about it... for as long as we've been in Smash together, I don't think I've ever seen her fall ill before... I suppose I didn't even imagine it happening to her."

You have a feeling that Peach has gotten sick in the past - she is just very good at hiding it and powering through it. You're certain she would have continued doing that this time as well had you not convinced her otherwise. However, instead of saying any of this, you simply shrug while placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Well, she is a princess. You can't have royalty looking all unkempt and snotty - that wouldn't be right at all."

Marth needs a moment before he realizes… you are making a jab at him. The prince is flustered for a moment before he lets out a laugh, which you respond in turn with a cheeky grin.

“Do I look that bad?”

He is visibly unwell, but you feel inclined to soften the blow to his vanity. “Nah, I’m just teasing. Anything else you need before I go?” You can’t help but glance around Marth’s room under the guise of checking if anything in particular is missing. You respect your guests’ privacy, so you haven’t been in many of their rooms after the move-in - including Marth’s. His room is fairly plain and orderly - the only thing that really screams “Marth” in here is the mannequin that is adorned with his familiar Smash garb. Said mannequin also holds his sword, Falchion. You suppose storing an outfit with armour on it in this fashion is easier than trying to keep it in the closet or in a drawer. Though considering you don’t see any other articles of clothing lying about, perhaps the closet is just full?

...How many clothes does this guy have?

You’re curious now, but decide not to pry.

“Thank you, but I should be fine,” Marth replies, bringing your attention back to him. “You’ve done enough already. Merely visiting me was plenty - you’ve certainly been a sight for sore eyes.”

For a moment, you’re flustered… but then you remember this man is currently sick in bed. His thoughts are probably a bit jumbled and unfiltered. And really, who wouldn’t feel better knowing there was someone bringing them soup? Beauty comes from kindness and within, et cetera et cetera. All these excuses and more fill your head as you effortlessly wave away Marth’s silly words - you, a sight?! Ha ha! Why, isn’t that saying often used platonically as well? Yes? Maybe? You are drawing a blank.

You’re so lost in denial that you forget to respond aloud. Marth seems to take your silence and (unbeknownst to you) goofy smile the wrong(?) way and starts stammering out an apology, possibly growing even more embarrassed than you are.

“I-I didn’t mean… What I meant by that was… Well, it’s not that I didn’t mean it, but I mean, I find you… quite… um…”

“If you want a sight, next time you need something I’ll be sure to send in the cutest maid we have on staff,” you joke, easily shifting the conversation to more comfortable territory. Marth relaxes at the topic shift and chuckles lightly, still looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’ll never live that moment down, will I?”

“Nope!” Your first embarrassing encounter with any of the Smashers has been so diluted by increasingly hectic and bizarre moments that you find it more funny than embarrassing these days. Well, you say “these days” like it wasn’t just a couple weeks ago that that happened… So much has happened since then that it feels like it has almost been two whole years! Really, it feels like the tournament should have started by now. Crazy how time works like that, huh? Ha ha.

Anyways.

“Anyways,” you say aloud, not sure where that oddly guilty train of thought came from. It was almost like someone was trying to speak through you to express their feelings. But that’s ridiculous! Best not to think about it anymore. “I’ve got more soup deliveries to make, so if you need anything, just…”

Oh. Oh wait you don’t have a system in place for this, do you? And you’re pretty sure most of the Smashers don’t have cell phones… Gah, you knew you should have implemented an internal phone line! Maybe you can ask Master Hand to sneak it in there while doing mansion renovations for future needs. If you do it, you’d have to do it in every single room one by one, which sounds exhausting. You already have a lot on your plate today!

“Don’t worry,” Marth says, “it’s only a cold. If I need anything, I have enough strength to get it myself.”

You open your mouth to protest but… actually, he has a point. It’s not like anyone seems to be sick with the flu or anything. And most of the Smashers are adults - they are all perfectly capable of getting up and retrieving anything they may need or want. Well, R.I.P. to anyone staying on the top floor because you still don’t have an elevator, but… they can at least leave a message on the door or something. Whatever.

This is already proving to be a very good learning experience at how unsuitable your mansion is in its current state for hosting this many people. You’ll have enough experience and knowledge by the end of this that you could run a rental business in your realm if you wanted.

“Well, if anything changes and you start having trouble, just leave a note outside the door,” you decide definitively. Going door-to-door to check on people would be tiring (and you’d also risk disturbing people who are sleeping) - but taking a walk through the halls every couple hours to check for notes or whatever? Easy. Even your shortcut-less partners could manage that.

Speaking of your partners, you should really be getting a move on.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marth replies, wordlessly giving you the go ahead to skedaddle on outta here. “Thank you again for this.”

And he gives you such a kind and warm smile despite his ailment that you are practically stumbling out of the door, unable to figure out why it feels like there are butterflies inside you.

...Helping people out is good. That’s all.

Shaking away the strange feelings this encounter brought, you pop yourself back into the kitchen, where you are instantly greeted with the smell of hot soup. The room is warm thanks to the literal cauldron y’all made a day’s worth of soup in with Peach’s help, which remains on perpetual heat. There are only two Smashers in the room right now: femme Robin, who is using a laddle to scoop the soup into bowls and prepare the trays for delivery, and R.O.B., who is just on his way out with a tray balanced on his metallic arms. He stops when he sees you appear from nothingness, staring silently at you for a moment before turning his head back to a neutral position and rolling out of the room. Shrugging off the encounter, you approach Robin and the table of food trays.

“A couple more down - how many are left?” You spot the stack of trays that haven’t been prepared yet, each with a Smasher’s name stickied onto them. “Oh. That’s how many…”

“You work a lot faster than the boys do,” Robin chuckles, her voice notably different-sounding than usual. You’re pretty sure she’s sick too, but unlike Peach, she hasn’t been overwhelmed by it yet and waves away any concerns you’ve thrown her way. “R.O.B. can only carry one order at a time, and the Pikmin keep spilling or dropping things… or eating it. Shulk is… well, I think the stairs are too much for him.”

“That’s understandable,” you chuckle. Yeah, your team is not the greatest for this job. But you’re still thankful for the help. “You are giving him orders for people on the lower floors though, right?”

Robin gives you A Look before gesturing to the soup and the pile of crackers and bread… among other world-specific foods that are apparently good to eat when sick. “Hey, I’m busy putting everything together here! I don’t have time to tell everyone where to go! Just pick up a tray and go, that’s what I’ve been saying.”

Oh geez, not even you’re completely familiar with the rooms that the Smashers chose for themselves. You can imagine Shulk having to search every floor just to find the name he’s been looking for is on the top… Thankfully Peach managed to round up any and all roommate scenarios before leaving to rest, or else this could be even more hectic.

“Fair enough,” you relent, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the others’ hardships. It is admittedly funny to think about, but you intend to work hard enough so no one tires themselves out at what would otherwise be an endless task. You’re hoping that after this first round, you’ll all have a break when you only have to deal with specific orders… until dinner time, of course. Then this chaos will begin again.

“Ugh, and no one has even delivered food to my poor, sweet Lucy yet!” Robin groans dramatically, hand to her head like she’s acting in a movie. “Here I am, selflessly toiling away for the sake of everyone else, while my only daughter continues to suffer! Oh, won’t somebody deliver this soup to her in my stead?”

“Uh… Yeah, sure, I could do that. Or if you’d want I could stay here while you--”

“Oh you will?!” Robin cuts you off before you can finish, grinning as she scoops up the tray with Lucina’s name taped onto it and forces it into your arms. “You’re a lifesaver! A knight in shining armour! I’m sure she will be SO happy to know someone as sweet as you is looking out for her…”

With an awkward (but amused) hum, you accept the tray and adjust it so you’ll be able to grab a couple more. Before you can start browsing the selection though, Robin starts coughing - first soft, but then she’s leaning over and hacking into her arm. Uh oh. “Robin, why don’t you go lie down? I think the rest of us can take care of things from here.”

“No no, I’m fine. Really,” she says, considerably less bombastic than before as she manages a smile. You can tell that it’s forced. “Someone has to prepare all this food and look after the kitchen!”

She’s… not exaggerating. Olimar’s Pikmin tend to sample the selection any time they’re in here to pick up another delivery. And then there was the one time Kirby came in today…

...Best not to think about that nightmare.

“Well… maybe you can at least take a break?” you suggest, not wanting her condition to get any worse via pushing herself too hard. You all may need the help, but… you’re sure you can manage! “There aren’t too many trays left to prepare--” Ten isn’t much, right? How much work could it possibly be to put food on a tray? “--and we could just have Shulk or R.O.B. watch the kitchen.” You’d volunteer yourself, but like Robin said, you kind of are the most efficient person on hand right now. Even Palutena has this cold - there’s no one with teleportation powers well enough to lend a hand.

Robin puts a hand to her face, clearly considering your offer. You notice how tired she looks now that she’s not overcompensating her energy to hide it. “Oh, but…”

“You could bring a tray with you,” you tempt. “Go lie down, eat, maybe read or watch a movie? Then maybe in an hour if you feel alright you can come back…?”

The tactician is silent, envisioning the possibilities you are proposing. Finally, she nods and steals a random tray, ripping off the name and sticking it on one of the empty ones. “Alright, you got me. I’m convinced. Say hi to Lucy for me, okay?!”

With a cheeky grin, she leaves the room with food in tow. Briefly you wonder if she had been looking for an excuse to go sit down for a while now…

After Robin is gone, you start browsing the trays so you can deliver more than one order in a single trip. Should you try for a bunch on the same floor as Lucina, or should you grab some for higher floors instead so your partners can catch a break? Just as you think you’ve made a decision, a certain Monado Boy enters the room with an empty food trolley.

“I ran into Robin on the way here,” Shulk says in lieu of a greeting. He looks tired, but devoid of any cold symptoms that everyone else seems to have. “She said she was taking a break but seemed rather… excited about it. I don’t suppose that means we’re down another member?”

“I guess we’ll find out if she comes back or not,” you chuckle. You’re pretty sure Robin is a fairly reliable person but… she can be rather sneaky about her true intentions. “Either way, I think we’ll be fine! We can do this!”

Your positivity is infectious; Shulk returns the smile, albeit weaker than yours. While you’re certain he’s probably just tired from running around so much to help people, you can’t help but ask him again:

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick too or anything?”

Shulk shakes his head. “I told you before, I don’t seem to have it. Really, I don’t feel sick at all.”

When you asked him earlier, he told you that he had a weird history of never getting sick at the same time as his friends. He just never seemed to catch the same bugs as them. His explanation for it was as good as yours - which was no explanation, because he doesn’t know how it happens either. Just luck and coincidence, probably. When you try to imagine Smashers with strong immune systems, Shulk would have never been at the top of the list. He just… he looks so frail! But you can’t fight the facts: he’s one of the only human Smashers who is still perfectly healthy right now.

“How about you?” Shulk asks, returning the question. “You haven’t started feeling sick, right?”

He must be worried that you are going to ditch him too. “Nope! Like I said earlier: I don’t get sick. Like, at all.” You honestly can’t remember the last time you had gotten sick. Certainly not since you “moved into” this world, which was… well, it’s been awhile! Assumedly, it’s just one of the many perks of who you are and the realm you live in. Regardless, it’s been long enough that you’re convinced that “virus immunity” is one of your many undefined abilities.

Unfortunately for you, “not being a clumsy fool” is not one of your cool superpowers.

“Oh no!” You let down your guard for just a moment and accidentally let the trays in your hands tip, dumping all the food and utensils onto the ground. Man, you’ve been doing so good today! Shulk helps you clean it up, but a certain issue remains.

"Ugh, what if specific foods were on those?" you bemoan aloud. "I can't remember what came from each tray…" And you don't know anyone's tastes well enough to remake them. Though you suppose you could just leave the soup plain… put a bit of everything on the side…

"Who were they for?"

"Lucina, Yoshi, and Villager."

"In that case, I think…" Shulk picks up a blue-and-white bag among the mess. "...this is for Villager."

This makes perfect sense. "Now for Yoshi… probably all the fruit?”

Shulk ponders for a second, then nods. This also makes perfect sense. The two of you put all the bananas, berries, and peppers onto Yoshi’s tray.

“That just leaves the soup for Lucina!” You grin and rush over to the still-warm soup pot and fill a new bowl. “That was easier than I thought.” You are pretty sure you didn’t make any mistakes whatsoever. Except… wait a minute.

“Didn’t I deliver this earlier?” At your query, Shulk glances over to the particular tray you’re pointing at. It’s labelled for Peach and Samus, but you’re certain that this was one of the first deliveries you made!

...Wasn’t it?

“Um.” Shulk seems just as puzzled as you were. “Honestly, I’m not sure…”

You try to reach further back into your memory, but it seems to get further and further the more you try. Today’s events have been a blur of chaos and confusion. “...I guess I’ll just do it again??” It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember doing it, if the tray is here then that means you have to deliver it! You pick up the tray and put it on your trolley, then start loading the trolley up with more and more trays until it’s full.

“Oops, I almost forgot…” You turn and look at Shulk, who is also loading up a trolley. “Shulk, can you take Lucina’s? Robin asked me to, but I’m out of space.”

The two of them seem like good friends anyways, you’re sure Lucina will be more happy to see Shulk than to see you.

“Sure thing.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start pushing your food trolley out of the room. As soon as you’ve exited the kitchen, you warp to the second floor of the mansion. Static dances on your skin from the instant transmission, but you ignore it as you approach Peach’s room.

[hello again its me, this is the end of the preview. there wasn’t much to it and it ends on such a Nothing note but i hope you liked it regardless. one day this will end up in the fic, but not anytime soon i think lol. i hope you have a good day/night.]

[nessabear05]

A Day To Remember, a Nea x Yui Oneshot

#2k21BVryKnd

#SilverRescueTeam

#SRT

This is a commission collab I did with my friend Fizzie! Basically, we came up with the idea that we give each other characters and a third or first-person POV to go off of, and we write a story just based on those. She posted hers a day or so ago, so go check it out and give it some love!

Fizzie’s Story: http://aminoapps.com/p/u8pxte

Keep in mind…she doesn’t know the plot ;) But I decided with the number of characters she gave me, I would do an AU where they just have a girl’s day! She gave me Nea, Yui, Laurie, Claudette, and Meg to work with! Hope you enjoy girl!

Also uh....had to add a little side ship of your OTP since I know how much you like Quendette :)

Word Count: 1,929

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The weather was perfect today. The sun was shining, no clouds to be seen...it was just a great day to get out and do something. And that’s exactly what this group of friends was doing. But they weren’t going out just as a last-minute thing, this was all planned out months in advance. And it was going to happen no matter the conditions.

Why so dead set on going out? Well, today was an extremely special day for two girls, in particular, those girls being Nea and Yui. The two had been dating for...well what seemed like forever. But they had been dating for around four years maybe? Ever since the beginning of college. And well...within the next couple of days, they were going to get married. And who else would be a part of their wedding if not their group of friends they had been with basically since they were children?

Now, things weren’t always great for this group of girls, but honestly, it always worked out in the end. And today would hopefully be no different. The five of them were just supposed to go out and get their nails done, then go to lunch afterward. And it was all supposed to go according to plan, but you know, nothing could ever go perfect, especially not with this group.

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It had all started this morning, and can you guess who the first one to screw up was? If you guessed Nea, you would be correct. The girl had forgotten to set her alarm the previous night, and Yui had gone to spend the night with some of her old friends from Japan that had flown down to America for the wedding of their friend. They had stayed at the hotel, but they weren’t coming with them to get their nails done today. Since it was just going to be the two bridal parties together.

And as anyone could have guessed, Yui was not that happy to find out that Nea had forgotten an alarm on a pretty special day. But, Nea had apologized profusely as she ran around the house quickly getting changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, all while their three friends Laurie, Meg, and Claudette giggled at the couple’s antics. The lack of Nea being prepared did not make them late though, so that was a little bit of a bonus to the shitty beginning of the day.

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When they arrived at the nail salon, everyone was no doubt, excited. Nea was talking with Meg and Claudette as they walked in, trying to decide on a matching color. Since the two were her bridesmaids, she wanted to make sure she picked out something they all liked. In the end, they had decided on a pretty light pink color. Since Nea’s dress was white, sticking with the traditional way of things. Well, as traditional as you could get with a lesbian wedding that is. The pink would match really well with the bright white gown.

Yui on the other hand was supposed to wear a white kimono, sticking with her traditional Japanese ways. She had a pink and white floral uchikake for the reception afterward, something her grandmother had worn at her own wedding, a garment Yui absolutely adored ever since she was a child. Now….she would get to marry the love of her life in it.

Laurie was her bridesmaid, being closer to the older woman than Nea’s two other friends. And they had both decided on a beige color for their nails, thinking it would look good with the white and the pink. Which, funny enough, were the colors for the decorations the two women had decided to be their main decor of the ceremony.

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As they walked inside the salon, there weren’t a lot of people there, maybe like….two others? Since it was still pretty early, but since they were getting both nails and feet done, they didn’t want to be there super late in the day when more people would start popping up. Common decency at its finest.

They were lead to sit down by a worker after picking out a polish from the walls, deciding to get acrylics for their hands with gel polish instead of normal polish, so it would stick on longer. And...quite a few of them had short nails, mostly because of their jobs. Yui was a mechanic since she always loved bikes and cars, things like that. Nea was a painter, but not a normal one. She got paid to do graffiti art on bridges and such, something to make the town more lively.

Meg was a semi-professional athlete. She wasn’t too well known, but she made a pretty good amount of money. Laurie was a childcare worker, working at a school and her nails broke easily around young children, she had come to learn that the hard way. And Claudette was a doctor, and she didn’t want to accidentally be poking people with her nails all too often through the gloves she wore. So needless to say, they didn’t get to have nice long nails like some girls a lot of the time and wanted to make sure they stayed on for the amount of time they could have them.

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They were sat down in the chairs to get their toes done first, one of the workers bringing over five glasses of champagne for them, one for each girl. And since they were all over twenty-one, they accepted it gratefully. Claudette wasn’t much of a drinker, but she would make an exception for this. It was a pretty special day after all, and she had taken off work for the next two days for the wedding.

Honestly, most of them had forgotten what it was like to just...be pampered like they were. It was honestly something they weren’t able to do often, being adults and such now with jobs to worry about. So it was relaxing while they just chatted, laughed, drank, and got their nails done. They did have a little incident where Meg almost kicked the nail stylist because the red-head was very much ticklish, but it didn’t seem to phase the person working on her. Only waving it off with a chuckle and saying it happens all the time.

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They were there probably around….three and a half hours? Mostly because despite the early time of day, a lot of people seemed to come in quickly, and the girls had to wait to get their hands done. But, nonetheless, it was worth the wait, and the five females were very happy with how everything turned out.

Though they didn’t condone drinking and driving, Claudette didn’t really like the champagne, and only ended up drinking two or so sips before she couldn’t do it anymore, finding the taste too strong without a chaser. And Nea was more than willing to finish it off for the smaller girl.

This also meant Claudette was now their driver for going off to lunch. So, they all piled into Laurie’s car, Laurie in the front with Claudette while the other three sat in the back, Nea and Yui sitting beside each other holding hands while Meg stared out the window, asking where they were going for the thousandth time since they left the salon. And the answer was the same each time. It was some little small-town restaurant that Claudette’s boyfriend, Quentin, owned. So not only would they get a discount, but he made pretty awesome food.

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It didn’t take long to get there, the place only slightly packed for the rush hour of lunchtime. And they quickly got out of the car, heading inside while chatting, obviously having to tease Claudette about coming to the place her boyfriend worked at.

As they walked inside, they spotted the curly-haired brunette behind the diner immediately. He had on his usual bright smile, his smile only growing bigger when he saw the five walk in, but it was definitely aimed towards Claudette.

“Hey, guys! Welcome in and have a seat wherever you want. I trust you guys to not take any unneeded space,” he said, more concentrated on the plates of food he was currently trying to carry. Quentin had changed a lot since high school. He wasn’t as shy as he used to be, and he had grown a lot taller almost six feet, and his hair had grown out a little longer. Needless to say, Claudette made a really good choice when she decided to start dating the nerdy kid.

The five took a seat at a booth, Meg, Laurie, and Claudette on one side with Nea and Yui on the other sitting beside each other. They chatted as they waited patiently for Quentin to come over to take their order, the boy handing off the plates of food to his co-worker, and ex-girlfriend Nancy. They had ended off on good terms, Quentin finding out he was into Claudette. And Nancy was totally fine with that, considering she and Quentin had been friends since childhood.

When he did come over, he let his customer service facade drop, his smile still there but seeming just a little less fake. He leaned down to press a quick kiss against Claudette’s cheek, causing the girl to giggle quietly and her friends to coo at her, “Alright….I’m guessing you all want the usual? Tea for you babe, water for Laurie, Sprite for Meg, iced tea for Yui, and a coke for Nea?” he asked, earning nods and smiles from the five girls. He wrote it down and walked off quickly, not before giving a quick congratulations to Yui and Nea. He hadn’t had much time to see them running his diner. One that his friend Steve had said he should open and most of his friends had pressured him into it. It was one of the best decisions of his life if he was entirely honest.

━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━

They sat and chatted for an hour or so, eating the food that was paid for by Quentin, despite the objections of everyone at the table. But, the brunette was kind that way...even if he was a little more than annoyed when he saw the tip left for him by the five women. Since the day was over, Claudette was going to drive everyone home with Laurie’s car, and Quen would pick her up when he was done with work in a couple more hours.

Nea and Yui were the first to be dropped off since their house was the closest, the engaged couple giving hugs and promises of seeing them tomorrow bright and early to go to where their wedding ceremony was supposed to be held. And after the goodbye’s, waved as they watched their three friends drive off down the road.

Nea turned to her smaller fiance, a small smile on her face as she slipped her arms around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss against her forehead, “I ever tell you how much I love you?” she asked with a small tilt of her head, and Yui could only giggle at Nea’s antics.

“You say it all the time darling....but I guess there’s nothing wrong with hearing it again..” she told her as she leaned up, arms wrapping around her shoulders to kiss her properly, lips pressed firmly against Nea’s. If this is what she was getting for the rest of her life, well, then she got pretty damn lucky.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company - Changes

Drake and Brad go camping overnight while Lucy is away, and they both remember times past.

Word Count 3626

A/N No warnings, just fluff and very mild angst. 

9 Under Canvas

‘So, Lucy’s gone for the day’ Brad said as he bit into his toast. ‘What shall we do?’ Drake stopped shovelling oatmeal into his mouth.

‘You don’t have any official business?’

‘Well no, the doctor said I’d to take it easy after yesterday. No signing papers, no telephone conferences. Luckily there’s not a lot on and the council can take up the slack.’ He poured coffee for both of them. ‘That’s the advantage of handing more power over to the people’

‘Yeah well, don’t forget the ball next week. Lucy wants us both to go.’ Brad smiled ruefully.

‘Of course, the old houses will enjoy that. They miss all the pomp and circumstance, the endless round of balls and tea parties and ceremonies. Charity events are fine, but folk’s pockets are only so deep’

‘Says the man with a palace in the capitol, a manor out in the sticks and another one with a huge apple orchard’

‘Low blow, my friend. You know plans are in force to turn Applewood into a folk museum, and Valtoria belongs to Lucy. The Palace is a national treasure and will be open to the public once we’ve worked out the security aspects. I still want to hold official Council meetings there until the government buildings are ready.’

‘Sorry, just making a point. You know I never liked all the fancy stuff. I’d be happy just with a cabin in the woods.’

‘You know my family has been accountable for the prosperity of the country for decades. Letting go of that kind of responsibility doesn’t happen overnight. Change has to happen at a manageable pace.’ Brad looked at him sharply. ‘Don’t you think I’d be happy with that cabin too? I know the whole country will be thrilled to have a new heir and I’m not abolishing the Monarchy, but he or she won’t have such a heavy burden as I had when I was crowned.’ Drake snorted.

‘Hey, you need a lot of practice to be able to last a week in a cabin without me.’

‘It’s not long since we were out there’ Brad said, neatly stacking their dirty plates on the trolley to go back to the kitchen. ‘No food, we ate what we caught…we didn’t sleep under the stars, though.’

‘Yeah, and the tiddlers you caught wouldn’t keep a mouse alive’ he grinned. Brad scoffed.

‘Practice makes perfect. We could go down to the river to fish, take bivvy bags with us, come back in the morning for when Lucy gets back’ Drake remembered that trip to the cabin only too well, as he’d broken down under the pressure of waiting for Brad to remember Lucy on his own, and the two men had become intimate. He wasn’t sure if he felt fear or desire for that happening again without their wife around.

’You really should get together with Hana’ Drake remarked ‘She’ll be busy with the twins soon, but you should meet up before the Ball, see if it triggers anything. She’s become somewhat of a nanny substitute, so she’ll probably come help when our own little tiddler makes an appearance.’ Brad frowned.

‘Stop trying to change the subject. Are you in or not?’ Drake sighed. He could just picture Brad in pristine plus fours and waxed jacket wading into the river to retrieve his catch and falling in.

‘I’m in’

------

An hour or so later the SUV drove away from the river bank, leaving the two men to set up their gear. This time Drake had opted for a tent rather than the relative luxury of the cabin. Just like their last trip they planned to eat what they caught, but had brought a few luxuries to make up for having only canvas to sleep under. Drake sent Brad off to look for firewood while he scouted out a good spot on the bank to fish from.

Before long they were sitting waiting for a bite. Drake had engineered for them to be far enough apart for him to keep an eye on Brad, but too far to talk. The time before they had sat in a boat on the lake, and it had been difficult not to talk to each other. He wanted to be quiet, and thought that would be good for Brad too. Enough time to talk later as they prepared, cooked and ate their catch, and the evening and night under the stars stretched before them.

Brad’s rod was brand new, top of the line whereas Drake used his father’s old gear, put into store some twenty years ago but still serviceable. He’d stumbled across it one day when he was moving his own gear out of his boyhood room in the tower at the Palace and gone down to the cellars to put it in storage with some things his mother – and as he’d then realised, his father – had left there. It was well used but Jackson had put it away carefully and in perfect order, and he had taken it down to the creek alone and sat in silence remembering what he could of him.

‘That’s it, son. Nice and slow. Bring it in carefully, you don’t want it getting too agitated and escaping, or snagging the line’ His father gently guided his hand on the reel and helped him turn it slowly and smoothly. The fish wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small fry either. Finally it came out flopping and twitching onto the bank, glassy eyes staring as it gasped for its watery breath.

‘Look Pa, I did it!’ he cried eagerly, not quite sure what to do despite having sat quietly and watched him before. It was different now it was his prize, and his heart beat wildly with excitement and pride.

‘Good job, son. Now ease it off the hook – careful, make sure it goes in the catch net, don’t let it go. Normally I’d let one this size back, but you caught it, so we’ll eat it. Next time you can bring it in on your own’ They had gone on for his Pa to catch bigger ones, and true to his word they had cooked his modest catch later, before taking the rest back to his mother.

‘No s’mores this time, son. We’ll save that for another day when Savvy’s with us. Mom has apple cobbler for dessert – Prince Brad’s joining us for dinner while the King takes Leo to meet his new tutor.’

‘Can Brad come fishing with us next time, Pa?’ Drake ask as he trotted beside him on the way back to the Palace. Jackson reached down and mussed his hair.

‘Sure thing son, if the King okays it’

But that day had never come, and Jackson’s belongings had been thrown out or put into storage by his grieving widow. The two boys had each lost a parent in quick succession, and that common experience had thrown them together more and more. When Constantine questioned Bianca’s right to stay on with her children, Brad defended him and fought for them to stay, and when she fled to the States he had stood firm and enlisted Bastien’s help to plead his case. Until Drake left for college they hadn’t spent more than a few days apart, the only exception being when the Royal Family went on State visits. Sometimes Brad stayed behind, as Leo was Crown Prince and heir to the throne.

Drake’s escape to the States had been short lived due to the assassination attempt that had followed Leo’s refusal of his role in the succession. When Brad had married Lucy, he had slunk away to lick his wounds, and he had to say that time of desolation came second only to the loss of his father. He had lost his best friend and the woman he loved, and Brad’s solution of the making the Cordonian marriage legal again had saved his sanity and made him whole again.

Not that life wasn’t complicated now, he thought ruefully. But he was taking it one step at a time, and so far things weren’t so bad. Lucy was the shining light in his and Brad’s life and he couldn’t picture a future without her.

He looked upstream to Brad, who appeared to be talking to himself as he sat waiting for the line to twitch. It was good timing, as the line started to vibrate. Drake left his line and made his way swiftly to his friend’s side.

‘I got a bite!’ Brad said excitedly ‘Look, Drake!’ He shook his head. He’d been exactly the same on the lake. Every time he reacted like it was his very first fish, reacting with childlike delight. Calmly Drake stood behind him, and Brad leaned back into him a little. He reached around…

‘That’s it, Brad. Nice and slow. Bring it in carefully, you don’t want it getting too agitated and escaping, or snagging the line’ He gently guided his hand on the reel and helped him turn it slowly and smoothly, and as the line got shorter the fish broke the surface, wriggling and thrashing. It dangled in the air as together they swung it in over dry land and into the keep net, where Drake gently took the hook out. It was a good size, not too small and not too big. Brad grinned at him triumphantly and Drake shook his head, laughing.

‘You’re something, Brad’ he chuckled, his heart swelling with joy to see his friend so happy and carefree. They carried on through the afternoon before putting their tackle away and preparing the fish to cook. Brad was a little clumsy at the messy prep but he persevered and Drake let him be. Soon they were enjoying the rewards of their labour as daylight waned.

‘How do you think Lucy will manage the pregnancy?’ Brad asked ‘I know she insisted she still wanted – you know, to be intimate, but will that change?’ Drake shrugged, putting his empty plate down.

‘I have no idea. I suppose every pregnancy’s different, but she’s always been very - playful’

‘It can’t be easy keeping two men happy’ Brad mused ‘How has she managed so far? My memory’s not good enough just yet’

‘Well, we had been keeping each other satisfied when she’s away or sick…’

‘Funny, I can’t work out when I started to have feelings for you. I pretty much pushed them down’ Brad mused, and Drake blinked in surprise.

‘You mean – before Lucy?’ he asked incredulously ‘Before I joined the marriage?’ Brad looked up, the firelight flickering, eyes glittering.

‘When I look back and I try to be honest, I suppose I always envied you at least’

‘Me?’ Drake was amazed at his friend’s confession. ‘You’re a prince for fuck’s sake, why would you envy me?’

‘You had no obligations – no lessons in diplomacy, protocol or dancing. I wasn’t expected to be King, but Father always erred on the side of caution. I wonder if he realised Leo would never buckle down, but he was competitive, didn’t like to be outdone by his baby brother.’ He poked a stick into the fire, stirring up the embers ‘I used to sit in those long boring lessons about how to sweet talk diplomats and make trade agreements and think about you outside, or in the stables or down by the lake.’

‘I had school, Brad. I had to look after Savvy. Life wasn’t a bowl of cherries’ he said shortly ‘Bas did his best, but he worked full time, and Connie wasn’t that helpful at providing relief childcare’ Brad looked through the flames at him, a hint of sorrow on his face.

‘I’m sorry Drake, I didn’t realise.’

‘Yes, well. I suppose I thought you were enjoying all your royal privileges, so maybe we’re even’ They sat in silence for a while, but what Brad had said niggled away at him.

‘Is there any more you’d like to share?’ Brad sucked his breath in and moved closer to the fire. Shadows wavered, shortening and lengthening with the flames.

‘I’m still trying to work it out. I always felt – comforted – I suppose, when you were around. I wonder what happened when Lucy came along.’

‘Perhaps she fulfilled my role, replaced me.’ he answered. ‘I have to tell you, it hurt like hell when you chose each other. You told me you’d still have time for me, but I felt like I was intruding. I loved both of you in different ways and in the end I left. I hit the bottle, hard. It was Bastien who found me and picked up the pieces, then Lucy came to me with your – proposition’

‘Damn that accident’ Brad cursed ‘I was hurrying to get back, or so they told me. If Iwaited a few minutes I could have had a driver bring me back. I may have fallen asleep at the wheel – and so close to the manor. How could I have been so stupid?’

‘Brad, what happened, happened. There’s no point beating yourself up. Just accept where you are and let things happen naturally.’ Drake reached down to get his rucksack, rummaging inside and bringing out a plastic food container. ‘I thought we could take ourselves back to our childhood’ He said, opening it up and holding it out for Brad to see the contents. He stared incredulously for a moment, then broke into a broad grin.

‘Smores? You brought the ingredients for smores?’

‘I certainly did, my friend. Hopefully it will remind us of more carefree days’ Brad moved around to sit closer to Drake,  who handed him a stick. The two friends worked in silence, placing the crackers and chocolate ready as they carefully toasted the marshmallows. Their skill was evenly matched and Brad needed no prompting to get the confection perfectly toasted before assembling the whole thing. He sucked his sticky fingers before squeezing the sweet treat just so, the marshmallow and chocolate merging together between the crackers without overflowing or dripping.

‘Mmm these are so good’ he mumbled through his mouthful ‘I’d forgotten. Remember that time we took Livvy out camping?’ Drake chuckled.

‘I sure do. Bas had to trail us, make sure we didn’t get eaten by wild animals or fall off a cliff. She hated how sweet and sticky the smores were. She caught and skinned a rabbit instead, and spit roasted it over the fire’

‘So she did. How is she? Should I know anything that would be embarrassing to have forgotten?’ Drake shrugged.

‘She’s as tough as ever. The only detail I can think about are rumours that she’s having a fling with her driver’  

‘She always did have an eye for good looking staff, but I can’t see her settling down with anyone. Knowing her it will be a brief affair.’ Drake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Oh I don’t know, it’s been over a year now.’ Brad raised his eyebrows, getting out a crisp clean square of linen to wipe the sticky residue of their feat.

‘Interesting. I should catch up with her at the next council meeting. We go back a long way and I’d like to know how life is really treating her. She never was one for wearing her heart on her sleeve’ He laughed ‘Though come to think of it, that term is kind of appropriate for a fierce warrior like her’ Drake nodded in agreement.

‘More smores, your majesty?’ he asked, picking the box up.

‘No, I think one’s enough. Don’t want to OD after such a long time without them’ They fell silent for a while as the stars started to come out in the clear ink black sky.

‘I think I’ll sleep outside’ Drake said ‘It’s a warm night’

‘Have you ever taken Lucy out camping?’ Brad asked. He shook his head.

‘No, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think she likes her comforts to be honest – can you see her crawling into a tent to sleep?’

‘Ha, not really. She’s not fond of bugs either’

‘It might be a good opportunity to snuggle up – y’know, keep her safe’

‘I’m so glad I can remember how we met’ Brad smiled fondly. ‘All this is a bit like trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together without the picture’

‘We, you got a few edge pieces and a corner’ Drake grinned ‘Now I think I’ll get my gear and settle down if that’s okay with you’ Brad smiled.

‘Of course. I’ll just sit and watch the fire for a bit. Do we need to keep it going?’

‘We don’t have enough for the whole night, so it’s up to you. You can feed it or leave it, whatever suits you’

‘Will I disturb you?’

‘Nah, I think I can tell you from a wild animal’ Brad laughed in reply.

‘Well thank goodness for that, though I can’t remember any dangerous beasts roaming the wood around here’

‘You never know. Remember Maxwell’s secret zoo?’ Brad nodded as Drake set out his mat and unrolled his sleeping bag.

‘Bertrand went ballistic when he found out. How he’d managed to get a live mink I’ve no idea. Luckily it was rehomed, and didn’t add to the Cordonian wildlife gene pool’

‘Are you sleeping out?’ Drake asked.

‘No, I think I prefer the tent. With you out here to guard me I’ll sleep like a baby’

‘That’s a term we might have to rethink in a few months’ Drake pointed out. He wriggled into his bag, balling up his rucksack as a pillow and lay on his back looking up at the stars. He was lulled by the crackling of the fire, a gentle breeze picking up every now and again and rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. The smell of the earth and the campfire smoke, a faint tinkle of running water from the nearby river all combined to make his eyelids grow heavy. He could hear Brad moving around from time to time, and drifted gently off to sleep.

--------

As Drake’s eyes closed and his breathing grew steady, Brad stared into the fire, triggering a memory of a beach fire, the shouting and laughing of friends, the swoosh of waves on sand. Lucy’s face appeared in his mind’s eye and he remembered her scent.

‘It’s my secret spot, so I’m trusting you’

‘I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust’ The others had managed to start a fire and were searching for more driftwood, leaving him alone with her. ‘So what should we do?’

‘Jump in the ocean!’ her smile disarmed him and her sense of fun shone out.

‘Won’t we get soaking wet?’ As the words left his mouth he instantly felt like a killjoy. Too timid to let go, always the buttoned up Prince, now heir to the throne.

‘You’re not afraid of a little water are you?’ He looked out at the black water, moonlight dancing across the shallow waves, then gawped as she kicked off her shoes and set off at a run.

‘Wait up!’ He plucked up courage, determined to meet her challenge, taking off his shoes and socks and hurriedly rolling up his pants, rushing to catch up. The water was icy.

‘Cold!’ he spluttered, his senses coming into sharp focus with the stimulation.

‘But worth it, right?’ She spun around, setting off ripples that playfully splashed her legs and his. Something in him woke, bubbling and surging like the waves, sparking waves of joy and freedom and undreamt of possibilities. A broad smile spread across his face.

‘I’ve never felt more alive!’

The memories continued to play in his head – warming up by the fire, revealing his identity to her, the drive to the dockside, the boat trip to the Statue of Liberty, his sense of wonderment at her playful and generous nature, her fearlessness. At the point of leaving the Big Apple his memory faltered. What had come after that remained a mystery. But perhaps soon he would find out.

Looking over at Drake he felt himself grow sleepy and crawled into the tent, taking his shoes off at the entrance. It was just a three man tent, nowhere near tall enough to stand up in. Drake had taught him that unless it was really warm weather it was better to sleep in the day’s clothes if they were clean enough, in order not to lose too much body heat. He could change in the morning – perhaps he would take a dip in the river, cold though it would undoubtedly be.

He unrolled his sleeping bag and slid in, pulling the top up around his head. The airbed was deep and comfortable, unlike the thin mat Drake preferred for the firm surface and protection from rough surfaces and sharp stones. He had often teased Brad’s liking for the comfort of an airbed.

‘Princess and the pea, Brad – Princess and the pea’ he would chide with a shake of his head. He sometimes deliberately hid an object underneath his mattress and would gleefully reveal it in the morning if he complained of an uncomfortable night. He took it in good humour, grounded by being treated like a normal human being instead of the pampered prince he was. He grinned to himself, thinking also of Max, who would no doubt say he looked like a caterpillar or a cocoon. He would zip himself up too, and crawl around the tent until Drake yelled at him to quit it or he got too tangled up to move any further.

He turned on his side and curled up. Safe with his childhood friend outside and with happy memories to comfort him, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

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